I'm home safely in the United States, but it wasn't easy, and for awhile, I wasn't sure if immigration wanted to let me return.
I knew the flights, themselves, wouldn't be a picnic. The actual flying time was 25 hours, but with layovers, I was on the road more than 30. That's the price one pays for a 10,000 mile journey, so I'm not complaining.
While flying home, I anticipated a lengthy encounter with immigration and that's exactly what I got. It makes sense. After all, I was gone almost two months wandering around Southeast Asia, an area known for drug production.
My first glimpse of what was in store for me back in America started in Hanoi, when the airline wanted to know how long I'd stay in Bangkok and to prove I had a return ticket. When I left Bangkok, the woman at the check-in desk frowned as she looked at my passport. She then asked me to write out my home address, which I assume was meant to test me because I think she had the information on her monitor.
The real fun occurred in Chicago. The airport has a new computer system designed to speed up the immigration process. A passenger scans his passport and, if everything checks out, moves into an expedited line. When I scanned my passport and printed my receipt, a large "x" covered my picture. I knew then there would be no speedy line for me.
The clerk in passport control asked me a host of questions. She seemed particularly intrigued by why I had spent so much time in Southeast Asia and covered so much ground.
After finishing the friendly interrogation, I moved over to customs. Normally, I'm waved through without any questions or even a glance at my backpack. Not this time.
I was sent alone to an area with a table and an interrogator. He was excellent. Had I been hiding something I'm sure he would have tripped me up. He would have made Perry Mason proud.
The gentleman seemed to purposely want to be confrontational and rattle me because he asked a series of rapid-fire questions in an annoyed manner like he didn't believe a word I was saying and couldn't stand to be in my presence - "What's your job?" ... "What do you teach?" ... "What's the name of your school?" ... "Why did you travel for so long with just a backpack? You've got to have more luggage." ... "Why would you want to go to Southeast Asia?" ... "What did you think of Vietnam?"
Of course, he asked me multiple times if I was carrying drugs. At one point, I said I didn't use drugs, to which he replied, "That doesn't mean you aren't transporting them."
Throughout the interview, he asked questions more than once in a different way. At one point, he studied my passport and asked me where I had obtained my Vietnamese visa. The information was printed on the visa, but I think he wanted to see if I could recall the information.
"So you paid $100 for the visa?" he asked in an offhand manner, to which I replied, "No, I paid $60." I'm sure he knew how much I paid but, again, wanted to rattle me.
Then, he asked me to tell him some places I'd visited in Thailand. I listed several and said I then crossed over into Laos.
He cut me off. "You took that two-day party boat." Actually, I did take a two-day boat down the Mekong River to Luang Prabang, but I disagreed with his characterization of the ride.
"It wasn't a party boat," I said. "It was much too hot to be drinking on the river."
That annoyed him a little bit. "Plenty of young people get loaded," he said. I wasn't going to argue because he held my fate in his hands.
After what seemed like 20 minutes of questions, he opened my pack. I expected him to methodically check everything, but he just pulled out a couple of items and entered some information into a computer. I guess the real test was the interview.
Even though the experience was a bit intimidating, I wasn't at all annoyed. Had the situation been reversed, I might have done the same thing with a backpacker who spent almost two months in Southeast Asia.
I cleared customs, but I wasn't done yet with the intense scrutiny. Next, I had to go through the check point to take my remaining flight from Chicago to Atlanta. The agent scanned my bag. Afterward, another agent walked up and, in a very polite manner, asked if the bag belonged to me.
I said yes. "Something doesn't look right," he said.
The agent examined my pack and pulled out several items, including four masks I'd bought. "We'd like to rescan your bag and scan the masks separately."
Again, I wasn't at all offended and thanked him for his vigilance. "Most people complain," he said. "It's nice to get a compliment." I'm all for anything that makes flying safer.
The rescan seemed to satisfy their concerns, but the agent performed one final test. He swabbed two of my masks with some kind of strip and ran the strips through a machine. I'm not sure if he was checking for bomb residue or drug residue, but I passed the test.
There's nothing I'd rather do than travel, but I must admit I get a thrill out of the return trip, knowing that I'll be arriving in a familiar place where I understand the culture, the legal system, and can call someone if I have a problem.
The flight landed late in Atlanta at almost 1 a.m., but my Uncle Ben and Aunt Cinda were waiting outside the terminal with smiles on their faces. Aside from the familial connection, they are two of my favorite people in the world because they are extremely interesting, generous, and great hosts.
When I finally dropped my exhausted body into the back seat, Cinda handed me a goodie bag with water and snacks. She'd thought of everything. For the first time in nearly two months, I could completely let my guard down and allow someone else to take over.
Now, I'm back in Dalton and my trip has officially ended. It was a great summer. There were lots of high points and only one low - my getting sick toward the end of my time in Cambodia. At one point as my fever continued to rise, I seriously considered skipping Vietnam and heading back to Bangkok for treatment. Fortunately, it didn't come to that because I thoroughly enjoyed my two plus weeks in Vietnam.
People have already asked me what was my favorite country. I'd have to put Cambodia and Vietnam on about the same level. The people in Cambodia are some of the friendliest, most welcoming I've ever met, especially considering the hardships they've endured over the last 60 years, but the Vietnamese are also quite friendly, and it's hard to beat the food and scenery.
Even though I've got to head back to work, I hope that my blog might inspire someone to check out a foreign locale. I promise you won't be disappointed. As I often tell people, if a traveler encounters good things, like witnessing the sunrise at Angkor Wat, or hardships, like losing a passport for several hours, it still provides some entertaining stories.
Thanks for all of your e-mails and good wishes during my almost two-month journey. A few kind words go a long way when a traveler is thousands of miles from home.
It's nice to be back.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Tense Moments in Bangkok - July 22, 2013
Everything had gone so smoothly on my trip, until yesterday.
Earlier in the day, I had a bad omen with my passport. When checking in for my flight from Hanoi to Bangkok, something about my passport bothered the clerk, so much so that she called over a supervisor.
Afterward, the clerk asked me how long I planned to spend in Thailand and then wanted to see proof I had purchased a return flight to America. Hmm.....When I showed her my flight confirmation, she was satisfied and printed my boarding pass.
The one hour, twenty minute flight was great. If you ever have a chance to take Qatar, do it. The plane was spacious, the attendants well trained and professional, and even though it was such a short flight, we still got fed.
Immigration in Bangkok was a breeze and soon I was checking into a hotel. As in my countries, the receptionist asked to make a copy of my passport. I set it on the counter. While she was filling out some paper work, an American man and his wife walked up and began talking to me. A few minutes later they left for dinner.
After paying for the room, I asked for my passport back. The woman said, "You never gave it to me."Fear welled up inside me.
Most of the year my passport sits in a drawer collecting dust, but when I'm abroad, it's my most important possession. No passport meant no flight home.
The receptionist said she felt the American accidentally picked it up because, at the time, he was also checking in and put his valuables in a safety deposit box. She just didn't seem overly concerned, which made me angrier and angrier. "Something like a passport disappearing off the counter can't happen," I said.
She did a cursory search around the desk and said she was sorry, which set me off even more, especially since she insinuated it was my fault for talking to the American, even though I had set the passport on her desk, trusting I'd get it back.
For about an hour, I sat and waited for the American to return from dinner. Visions of spending days filing police reports and begging the American embassy to issue me a temporary passport filled my head.
While enduring the tense hour, a man walked up to me, who said he travels to Bangkok often. He wished me luck, but he said scams are common in the city and that my passport was probably gone.
That didn't help, and it infuriated me off even more that the attendant still didn't seem overly concerned. I had to take a walk.
When I returned, she held up my passport, saying the American had accidentally put it into the safety deposit box, not realizing his mistake. I felt like jumping for joy. This morning, I ran into him, and he said, actually, she had put the passports into the box.
I apologized to the clerk for getting upset, and she finally acknowledged she had made a mistake not immediately securing my passport.
I'm always so careful with my passport. I learned a valuable lesson that I never should let my guard down with such an important document, even if the hotel clerk is three feet away.
With the relief of getting my passport returned, my spirits were high, meaning I had a terrific final night. Central Bangkok reminds me a lot of Times Square back in the 1980s - bright lights, excitement, great food, people from all over the world, and a lot of seedy characters and illicit activities. Let me put it to you this way. Today, two different prostitutes at 7 a.m. were already pestering me to pay for their services.
Tonight, around 3 a.m., I begin my flight home. I'll let you know when I return to America. As always, I'll be in touch, but it might be a couple of days because of the jet lag.
Earlier in the day, I had a bad omen with my passport. When checking in for my flight from Hanoi to Bangkok, something about my passport bothered the clerk, so much so that she called over a supervisor.
Afterward, the clerk asked me how long I planned to spend in Thailand and then wanted to see proof I had purchased a return flight to America. Hmm.....When I showed her my flight confirmation, she was satisfied and printed my boarding pass.
The one hour, twenty minute flight was great. If you ever have a chance to take Qatar, do it. The plane was spacious, the attendants well trained and professional, and even though it was such a short flight, we still got fed.
Immigration in Bangkok was a breeze and soon I was checking into a hotel. As in my countries, the receptionist asked to make a copy of my passport. I set it on the counter. While she was filling out some paper work, an American man and his wife walked up and began talking to me. A few minutes later they left for dinner.
After paying for the room, I asked for my passport back. The woman said, "You never gave it to me."Fear welled up inside me.
Most of the year my passport sits in a drawer collecting dust, but when I'm abroad, it's my most important possession. No passport meant no flight home.
The receptionist said she felt the American accidentally picked it up because, at the time, he was also checking in and put his valuables in a safety deposit box. She just didn't seem overly concerned, which made me angrier and angrier. "Something like a passport disappearing off the counter can't happen," I said.
She did a cursory search around the desk and said she was sorry, which set me off even more, especially since she insinuated it was my fault for talking to the American, even though I had set the passport on her desk, trusting I'd get it back.
For about an hour, I sat and waited for the American to return from dinner. Visions of spending days filing police reports and begging the American embassy to issue me a temporary passport filled my head.
While enduring the tense hour, a man walked up to me, who said he travels to Bangkok often. He wished me luck, but he said scams are common in the city and that my passport was probably gone.
That didn't help, and it infuriated me off even more that the attendant still didn't seem overly concerned. I had to take a walk.
When I returned, she held up my passport, saying the American had accidentally put it into the safety deposit box, not realizing his mistake. I felt like jumping for joy. This morning, I ran into him, and he said, actually, she had put the passports into the box.
I apologized to the clerk for getting upset, and she finally acknowledged she had made a mistake not immediately securing my passport.
I'm always so careful with my passport. I learned a valuable lesson that I never should let my guard down with such an important document, even if the hotel clerk is three feet away.
With the relief of getting my passport returned, my spirits were high, meaning I had a terrific final night. Central Bangkok reminds me a lot of Times Square back in the 1980s - bright lights, excitement, great food, people from all over the world, and a lot of seedy characters and illicit activities. Let me put it to you this way. Today, two different prostitutes at 7 a.m. were already pestering me to pay for their services.
Tonight, around 3 a.m., I begin my flight home. I'll let you know when I return to America. As always, I'll be in touch, but it might be a couple of days because of the jet lag.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
A Slice of Paradise - Ha Long Bay, Vietnam - July 20, 2013
Many times the claims of travel writers never seem to measure up to reality, but I can say without any exaggeration that Ha Long Bay is stunning. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.
The bay is surrounded by jagged, limestone cliffs rising hundreds of feet into the air. That's impressive enough, but even within the water itself, limestone islands jut up from the depths, towering overhead. Sailing through the bay is like navigating a rocky obstacle course.
It's so beautiful that it's easier to overlook some of the plastic and other garbage floating in the water. The ecology movement apparently has not yet arrived in Vietnam. It's too bad. Hey, I try to write the truth.
I visited the UNESCO Word Heritage Site on a three-day, two night, all inclusive tour. Normally, that's not my style; however, my time in Southeast Asia is growing short and it seemed to be the best way to get there. I must admit it was relaxing having someone handle all the logistics.
The first day 16 of us from seven different countries boarded a junk boat, a wooden vessel popular throughout China and Vietnam, a boat you've probably seen in the movies. Initially, we sailed to a cave, which obviously made me happy. Afterward, we kayaked and finished off the day swimming alongside the boat. That night, we slept aboard the craft. It wasn't the Ritz but quite comfortable.
The next day our group went ashore to Cat Ba Island, where we toured a national park and hiked up a mountain to take in the view. That afternoon we checked into a hotel, and I spent the rest of the day checking out three beaches with my new French friends - Thierry, an environmentalist; Julie, a fair trade worker; and Matthieu, a physics/math teacher. We bonded immediately. As I've said before, I normally don't feel lonely on the road, especially with such fascinating people backpacking around the world.
The tour was definitely one of the highlights of my seven weeks here.
On the way back, I got some more insights into the perceptions of some tourists about Vietnam. During the bus trip to Hanoi, a young German guy turned around and said he felt that Vietnamese people were unfriendly.
Normally, I would have let it slide, but I feel just the opposite after having spent two weeks here and wanted to delve into his comment. I began by respectfully asking if he'd ever visited a market to buy fruit or try a meal......"No," he responded. Then, I asked him if he'd tried to reach out and communicate with anyone he'd passed. Again, "no," he said. At this point I said, "Maybe, that's your problem."
I'm sad he'll go home feeling Vietnamese are unfriendly. For the next few minutes, Matthieu and I discussed how much we'd enjoyed meeting the Vietnamese, hoping the German guy was listening. Actually, the experience made me reflect on how many times I've had a negative perception of strangers, probably because of what I brought to the interaction.
I'm now back in Hanoi and have run out of real estate. China lies less than 200 miles to the north. The Gulf of Tonkin is to the east, and Laos borders Vietnam to the west. I've got two choices - take a 40-hour bus ride across Vietnam and Laos back to Bangkok or take a two-hour flight. Really, I've got one option. There's no way I'm spending that much time on a bus, especially after having already done an overnight train and three overnight buses.
So, tomorrow, I'm flying to Bangkok and the next day home. Throughout my trip, I've been pushing forward, trusting that everything would work out. I assumed I'd find an inexpensive flight back to Bangkok. A few days ago, I searched on the internet and went to a few travel agents.
Everyone kept pushing Vietnam Air, but I knew I could find something better. Finally, an agent said she could get me a good deal on an airline she'd never heard of before. It turned out to be Qatar, a middle-eastern carrier known as one of the best in the world for customer service. I smiled and told her I'd go ahead and take a chance on the cheap one. If it's anything like Etihad, I'm in for a great experience.
So, tomorrow, I'm flying to Bangkok and the next day coming home. It's hard to believe my journey is coming to an end. I've had a terrific time, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Plus, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone.
That's it from Hanoi. I'm tired and have a long day ahead of me. As always, I'll be in touch, but it might be a couple of days.
The bay is surrounded by jagged, limestone cliffs rising hundreds of feet into the air. That's impressive enough, but even within the water itself, limestone islands jut up from the depths, towering overhead. Sailing through the bay is like navigating a rocky obstacle course.
It's so beautiful that it's easier to overlook some of the plastic and other garbage floating in the water. The ecology movement apparently has not yet arrived in Vietnam. It's too bad. Hey, I try to write the truth.
I visited the UNESCO Word Heritage Site on a three-day, two night, all inclusive tour. Normally, that's not my style; however, my time in Southeast Asia is growing short and it seemed to be the best way to get there. I must admit it was relaxing having someone handle all the logistics.
The first day 16 of us from seven different countries boarded a junk boat, a wooden vessel popular throughout China and Vietnam, a boat you've probably seen in the movies. Initially, we sailed to a cave, which obviously made me happy. Afterward, we kayaked and finished off the day swimming alongside the boat. That night, we slept aboard the craft. It wasn't the Ritz but quite comfortable.
The next day our group went ashore to Cat Ba Island, where we toured a national park and hiked up a mountain to take in the view. That afternoon we checked into a hotel, and I spent the rest of the day checking out three beaches with my new French friends - Thierry, an environmentalist; Julie, a fair trade worker; and Matthieu, a physics/math teacher. We bonded immediately. As I've said before, I normally don't feel lonely on the road, especially with such fascinating people backpacking around the world.
The tour was definitely one of the highlights of my seven weeks here.
On the way back, I got some more insights into the perceptions of some tourists about Vietnam. During the bus trip to Hanoi, a young German guy turned around and said he felt that Vietnamese people were unfriendly.
Normally, I would have let it slide, but I feel just the opposite after having spent two weeks here and wanted to delve into his comment. I began by respectfully asking if he'd ever visited a market to buy fruit or try a meal......"No," he responded. Then, I asked him if he'd tried to reach out and communicate with anyone he'd passed. Again, "no," he said. At this point I said, "Maybe, that's your problem."
I'm sad he'll go home feeling Vietnamese are unfriendly. For the next few minutes, Matthieu and I discussed how much we'd enjoyed meeting the Vietnamese, hoping the German guy was listening. Actually, the experience made me reflect on how many times I've had a negative perception of strangers, probably because of what I brought to the interaction.
I'm now back in Hanoi and have run out of real estate. China lies less than 200 miles to the north. The Gulf of Tonkin is to the east, and Laos borders Vietnam to the west. I've got two choices - take a 40-hour bus ride across Vietnam and Laos back to Bangkok or take a two-hour flight. Really, I've got one option. There's no way I'm spending that much time on a bus, especially after having already done an overnight train and three overnight buses.
So, tomorrow, I'm flying to Bangkok and the next day home. Throughout my trip, I've been pushing forward, trusting that everything would work out. I assumed I'd find an inexpensive flight back to Bangkok. A few days ago, I searched on the internet and went to a few travel agents.
Everyone kept pushing Vietnam Air, but I knew I could find something better. Finally, an agent said she could get me a good deal on an airline she'd never heard of before. It turned out to be Qatar, a middle-eastern carrier known as one of the best in the world for customer service. I smiled and told her I'd go ahead and take a chance on the cheap one. If it's anything like Etihad, I'm in for a great experience.
So, tomorrow, I'm flying to Bangkok and the next day coming home. It's hard to believe my journey is coming to an end. I've had a terrific time, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Plus, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone.
That's it from Hanoi. I'm tired and have a long day ahead of me. As always, I'll be in touch, but it might be a couple of days.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Hanoi Hilton - July 17, 2013
Hoa Lo prison has had a long, infamous history. The French built the facility in the late 1800s - incarcerating, torturing, and executing Vietnamese up until the time Vietnam gained its independence. The museum went to great lengths to document the harsh treatment the French inflicted on the Vietnamese.
During the Vietnam War, shot-down U.S. fighter pilots were also imprisoned there. That's when the prison earned the nickname, the "Hanoi Hilton."
According to the exhibit,the POWs received "decent and humane treatment." The exhibit indicated, "During the war, the national economy was difficult but the Vietnamese government had created the best living conditions to U.S. pilots for they had a stable life during the temporary detention period." The exhibit went on to say that the living conditions for the prisoners was often better than that of the Vietnamese.
The museum in the former prison even displayed photos of prisoners playing chess, billiards, basketball, watching movies,and celebrating Christmas.
However, American POWs tell a much different story, saying they endured extremely harsh conditions, including regular beatings and torture. Senator John McCain, the ex-presidential candidate, spent 6 years at the "Hanoi Hilton," after being shot down in 1967. His flight suit is on display.
Currently, I am a guest of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam and feel it's best to refrain from comment about the discrepancies. I'll leave that to my readers and to historians to decide.
Unfortunately, much of the prison was torn down to make way for a hotel and shopping complex.
After touring the site, I had a chance to stroll around the city. Even though Hanoi is a modern metropolis jammed with people and traffic, the central historical district is quite scenic, with its narrow, winding streets and structures from hundreds of years ago.
I've enjoyed unwinding the last two days. Tomorrow, I will head about three hours east toward Halong Bay, where I'll do an overnight cruise and then spend an additional night on Cat Ba Island. I've heard its a stunning spot, a bay surrounded by jagged limestone cliffs. It feels like a great, relaxing way to cap off my 7-week trip. By the way, Halong Bay is off the Gulf of Tonkin, which certainly got a lot of press in the Vietnam War.
I continue to have positive interactions with the locals. This morning, I walked into a soup place on the street. Basically, it was a woman cooking the concoction in a big pot on the sidewalk. It wasn't hard to decide because there was just one option - soup.
When I sat down on one of the plastic stools, she smiled. I don't think she gets many customers who are tourists. After she served me, she hovered around, waiting to see my reaction. Actually, it was some of the best soup I've had on my trip. She smiled from ear to ear when I rubbed my belly, indicating my satisfaction.
Later, a man sat down and ate with me. When I told him I was American, he smiled, shook my hand, and we spent several minutes working on his English. Still,I can't find any of that anti-American sentiment some tourists complain about.
It's time to close. I'm getting tired. As always, I'll be in touch.
During the Vietnam War, shot-down U.S. fighter pilots were also imprisoned there. That's when the prison earned the nickname, the "Hanoi Hilton."
According to the exhibit,the POWs received "decent and humane treatment." The exhibit indicated, "During the war, the national economy was difficult but the Vietnamese government had created the best living conditions to U.S. pilots for they had a stable life during the temporary detention period." The exhibit went on to say that the living conditions for the prisoners was often better than that of the Vietnamese.
The museum in the former prison even displayed photos of prisoners playing chess, billiards, basketball, watching movies,and celebrating Christmas.
However, American POWs tell a much different story, saying they endured extremely harsh conditions, including regular beatings and torture. Senator John McCain, the ex-presidential candidate, spent 6 years at the "Hanoi Hilton," after being shot down in 1967. His flight suit is on display.
Currently, I am a guest of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam and feel it's best to refrain from comment about the discrepancies. I'll leave that to my readers and to historians to decide.
Unfortunately, much of the prison was torn down to make way for a hotel and shopping complex.
After touring the site, I had a chance to stroll around the city. Even though Hanoi is a modern metropolis jammed with people and traffic, the central historical district is quite scenic, with its narrow, winding streets and structures from hundreds of years ago.
I've enjoyed unwinding the last two days. Tomorrow, I will head about three hours east toward Halong Bay, where I'll do an overnight cruise and then spend an additional night on Cat Ba Island. I've heard its a stunning spot, a bay surrounded by jagged limestone cliffs. It feels like a great, relaxing way to cap off my 7-week trip. By the way, Halong Bay is off the Gulf of Tonkin, which certainly got a lot of press in the Vietnam War.
I continue to have positive interactions with the locals. This morning, I walked into a soup place on the street. Basically, it was a woman cooking the concoction in a big pot on the sidewalk. It wasn't hard to decide because there was just one option - soup.
When I sat down on one of the plastic stools, she smiled. I don't think she gets many customers who are tourists. After she served me, she hovered around, waiting to see my reaction. Actually, it was some of the best soup I've had on my trip. She smiled from ear to ear when I rubbed my belly, indicating my satisfaction.
Later, a man sat down and ate with me. When I told him I was American, he smiled, shook my hand, and we spent several minutes working on his English. Still,I can't find any of that anti-American sentiment some tourists complain about.
It's time to close. I'm getting tired. As always, I'll be in touch.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
The Road Winds to Hanoi - July 17, 2013
After a 14-hour bus ride, I made it to Hanoi. I slept a little bit on the journey, but it was rough. Hey, it's all part of the process. As I've said before, overseas travel is many things - eye opening, enriching, satisfying, exciting, and sometimes, relaxing, but often, it is also draining. Still, there's nothing I'd rather do with my free time.
Over the last few weeks, I've heard several travelers say they don't like Vietnam, especially the North, because the tourists claim they don't feel welcome. I feel just the opposite. The Vietnamese have been quite friendly, and at times, very playful.
Maybe, the issue is that the Vietnamese are a little shy with their English or maybe, by nature, Vietnamese are more reserved with strangers. Again, that is why I enjoy traveling alone because I think I am less intimidating.
In particular, I've heard tourists say people in Hanoi can be a bit cold, especially toward Americans. Keep in mind America fought against the North in the war. I attribute the idea of coldness to something else.
Hanoi is the capital of the Vietnam. A few days ago, I spoke at length with a Vietnamese woman who said that some people in Hanoi maintain the attitude that they are more sophisticated than those from the countryside. I've certainly experienced such an attitude when I lived in New York City. To some, New York is the center of the universe and the epicenter is Manhattan.
At the same time, New Yorkers are always in a hurry. The pace of life is hectic, and New Yorkers aren't necessarily the type that are going to say "hello" to everyone who passes. There's just not time.
Within 20 minutes of arriving in Hanoi, I felt the same kind of New York vibe. The people aren't unfriendly, rude, or anti-American, they just live in a city of millions with a hectic pace of life. Still, I've already had some great conversations and felt very welcome. It just takes a little more effort and time to make a connection.
I don't doubt tourists have had some negative experiences in Hanoi, but I've also talked to dozens of people in the United States over the years who would prefer New York City to vanish from the face of the earth because of their negative perceptions of the place.
Last night, I talked with an older Vietnamese woman for over an hour. I brought up the topic of the war. She had a refreshing outlook. She said the war was in the past and that many Vietnamese, including those in the North, prefer to look toward the future.
Today, I plan to take a look around the city and visit the infamous "Hanoi Hilton," the place where American POWs were imprisoned and tortured.
Tomorrow, I hope to get to Halong Bay.
That's it. I am getting hungry for my morning soup after a restful night of sleep. I found a great hotel and decided to splurge. Normally, I spent around $6 dollars a night for a room. Last night, I paid the princely sum of $11.
As always, I'll be in touch.
Over the last few weeks, I've heard several travelers say they don't like Vietnam, especially the North, because the tourists claim they don't feel welcome. I feel just the opposite. The Vietnamese have been quite friendly, and at times, very playful.
Maybe, the issue is that the Vietnamese are a little shy with their English or maybe, by nature, Vietnamese are more reserved with strangers. Again, that is why I enjoy traveling alone because I think I am less intimidating.
In particular, I've heard tourists say people in Hanoi can be a bit cold, especially toward Americans. Keep in mind America fought against the North in the war. I attribute the idea of coldness to something else.
Hanoi is the capital of the Vietnam. A few days ago, I spoke at length with a Vietnamese woman who said that some people in Hanoi maintain the attitude that they are more sophisticated than those from the countryside. I've certainly experienced such an attitude when I lived in New York City. To some, New York is the center of the universe and the epicenter is Manhattan.
At the same time, New Yorkers are always in a hurry. The pace of life is hectic, and New Yorkers aren't necessarily the type that are going to say "hello" to everyone who passes. There's just not time.
Within 20 minutes of arriving in Hanoi, I felt the same kind of New York vibe. The people aren't unfriendly, rude, or anti-American, they just live in a city of millions with a hectic pace of life. Still, I've already had some great conversations and felt very welcome. It just takes a little more effort and time to make a connection.
I don't doubt tourists have had some negative experiences in Hanoi, but I've also talked to dozens of people in the United States over the years who would prefer New York City to vanish from the face of the earth because of their negative perceptions of the place.
Last night, I talked with an older Vietnamese woman for over an hour. I brought up the topic of the war. She had a refreshing outlook. She said the war was in the past and that many Vietnamese, including those in the North, prefer to look toward the future.
Today, I plan to take a look around the city and visit the infamous "Hanoi Hilton," the place where American POWs were imprisoned and tortured.
Tomorrow, I hope to get to Halong Bay.
That's it. I am getting hungry for my morning soup after a restful night of sleep. I found a great hotel and decided to splurge. Normally, I spent around $6 dollars a night for a room. Last night, I paid the princely sum of $11.
As always, I'll be in touch.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
A Return to the South China Sea - Hue, Vietnam - July 15, 2013
Beaches aren't my top travel destination, but in Vietnam, they're always close at hand, so yesterday I returned to the South China Sea for an afternoon of body surfing.
I met up with my American friends, Allie and Brent. She's a nurse. He's in a Blues band. They are a delightful couple. I first met them in Laos. A month later I ran into them on a bus in Vietnam. Imagine the odds. I was sad to see them leave yesterday, but we're going to try to get together one last time in Hanoi.
Because so much of Vietnam lies on the coast, it would be impossible for all the beaches to be full. Yesterday, the beach near Hue was practically empty. All we could see for miles were a few beach huts and large waves crashing against the golden sand. Great day!
I got to the beach with my favorite mode of transport - a Mary Poppins bicycle. Along the 7-mile route, I peddled my way through rice fields and a fishing village, listening to a chorus of "hellos" as I passed. If I had a dollar for every time someone said "hello" to me, especially kids, I'd have the cost of my vacation covered.
I think they are being friendly, and I think many Vietnamese want to practice their English. I'm happy to help, and it gives me a chance to interact and learn more about the culture.
I've been surprised by the playfulness of some Vietnamese. This morning, I returned to a local place for breakfast, a place I'd eaten yesterday. Like all of Southeast Asia, soup is the morning delicacy.
During the meal, the woman cooking on the sidewalk walked over to me and said, "You are handsome man. You and me, O.K.?" It was all in good fun. She's married and probably 20 years older than me, but I enjoyed the banter.
Often, I'm asked at home and here in Southeast Asia why I travel alone. This morning's encounter is a prime reason why. If I'm alone, I'm forced to reach out to others, and they feel more comfortable approaching me. If I'm traveling in a pack, it intimidates many people, especially those who are shy. I think it's the best way to immerse oneself in a foreign culture.
This is my third day in Hue. It's big enough that there's a lot going on but not unmanageable, and it still has a small town feel.
This afternoon, I'm heading to Hanoi via my last overnight bus ride, a 14-hour marathon. Really, the overnight sleeper buses aren't bad. Each passenger sits in a small compartment with an inclined seat that can almost be reclined flat. My legs are a little long, but I'm able to get some sleep. I'll take it over a plane any day.
Before I close, I wanted to throw in a couple of asides that I keep forgetting to include.
First, I am surprised by the modest dress of people throughout Southeast Asia. Even though it is steaming some days, men generally wear long pants and women remain covered up. Apparently, the people don't appreciate foreigners who reveal too much skin.
In Laos, at Vang Vieng, the place where I rode tubes down the river, the community actually posted several signs asking men not to go bare chested and women not to wear bikini tops because it offends Laotians. For the most part, tourists complied.
Throughout my trip, I've asked tourism people where most travelers originate. In Laos and Cambodia, I was told the majority of visitors are from Korea. In Vietnam, no one seems to know.
Speaking of tourism, I asked in Cambodia how many visitors came to the country last year. I was told 7 million, which if you think about it, isn't much. I'll bet most go to Ankhor. The same person told me that only 100,000 people visited the town of Battambang, where I saw the "killing caves."
Finally, malaria is supposedly for real in the region. It's not a problem in most tourist areas, but I read last week that one third of all people in Laos will contract the disease at some point in their lives.
That's about all I've got. I still need to pack. Next stop, Hanoi. As always, I'll be in touch.
I met up with my American friends, Allie and Brent. She's a nurse. He's in a Blues band. They are a delightful couple. I first met them in Laos. A month later I ran into them on a bus in Vietnam. Imagine the odds. I was sad to see them leave yesterday, but we're going to try to get together one last time in Hanoi.
Because so much of Vietnam lies on the coast, it would be impossible for all the beaches to be full. Yesterday, the beach near Hue was practically empty. All we could see for miles were a few beach huts and large waves crashing against the golden sand. Great day!
I got to the beach with my favorite mode of transport - a Mary Poppins bicycle. Along the 7-mile route, I peddled my way through rice fields and a fishing village, listening to a chorus of "hellos" as I passed. If I had a dollar for every time someone said "hello" to me, especially kids, I'd have the cost of my vacation covered.
I think they are being friendly, and I think many Vietnamese want to practice their English. I'm happy to help, and it gives me a chance to interact and learn more about the culture.
I've been surprised by the playfulness of some Vietnamese. This morning, I returned to a local place for breakfast, a place I'd eaten yesterday. Like all of Southeast Asia, soup is the morning delicacy.
During the meal, the woman cooking on the sidewalk walked over to me and said, "You are handsome man. You and me, O.K.?" It was all in good fun. She's married and probably 20 years older than me, but I enjoyed the banter.
Often, I'm asked at home and here in Southeast Asia why I travel alone. This morning's encounter is a prime reason why. If I'm alone, I'm forced to reach out to others, and they feel more comfortable approaching me. If I'm traveling in a pack, it intimidates many people, especially those who are shy. I think it's the best way to immerse oneself in a foreign culture.
This is my third day in Hue. It's big enough that there's a lot going on but not unmanageable, and it still has a small town feel.
This afternoon, I'm heading to Hanoi via my last overnight bus ride, a 14-hour marathon. Really, the overnight sleeper buses aren't bad. Each passenger sits in a small compartment with an inclined seat that can almost be reclined flat. My legs are a little long, but I'm able to get some sleep. I'll take it over a plane any day.
Before I close, I wanted to throw in a couple of asides that I keep forgetting to include.
First, I am surprised by the modest dress of people throughout Southeast Asia. Even though it is steaming some days, men generally wear long pants and women remain covered up. Apparently, the people don't appreciate foreigners who reveal too much skin.
In Laos, at Vang Vieng, the place where I rode tubes down the river, the community actually posted several signs asking men not to go bare chested and women not to wear bikini tops because it offends Laotians. For the most part, tourists complied.
Throughout my trip, I've asked tourism people where most travelers originate. In Laos and Cambodia, I was told the majority of visitors are from Korea. In Vietnam, no one seems to know.
Speaking of tourism, I asked in Cambodia how many visitors came to the country last year. I was told 7 million, which if you think about it, isn't much. I'll bet most go to Ankhor. The same person told me that only 100,000 people visited the town of Battambang, where I saw the "killing caves."
Finally, malaria is supposedly for real in the region. It's not a problem in most tourist areas, but I read last week that one third of all people in Laos will contract the disease at some point in their lives.
That's about all I've got. I still need to pack. Next stop, Hanoi. As always, I'll be in touch.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
A Visit to the DMZ - Hue, Vietnam - July 13,2013
Some of the heaviest and fiercest fighting of the Vietnam War occurred around the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the border that once separated North and South Vietnam.
"It was hell," according to Mr. Anh, who fought for South Vietnam/America. He said it was the last place a soldier wanted to be sent, and he said soldiers did everything possible to escape the horror, including staying drunk and high as much as possible to psyche themselves up for combat. Even though soldiers were given anti-malaria pills, Mr. Anh said most refused to take them, hoping to contract the disease to get out of the fight, if for only a few days.
Today, Mr. Anh acted as my guide on a tour of the region. He ought to know the area. Most soldiers served no more than 6 months at the DMZ, but Mr. Anh stayed here for 2 years because of his special skills as the chief scout. His job was so important that he said he was given a poison pill to swallow in case he were captured by the enemy.
Fighting raged all the time near the DMZ, but Mr. Anh said the worst happened at night. That's when up to 40,000 Viet Cong, hiding in Laos, only a 6-minute helicopter ride away, launched rocket attacks, while Viet Cong soldiers slipped across the border along the Ho Chi Minh trail, a network of bicycle paths built throughout the jungle to transport troops and supplies. I have no idea how the United States could have spotted the paths by air, especially at night.
The region was so crucial because of a major American supply route. The Viet Cong always wanted to disrupt it, and the other side needed to protect it.
The excellent day-long tour included a stop at the Vinh Moc tunnels, tunnels the Viet Cong used to transport supplies, meaning they were bigger than the ones I saw previously at Cu Chi, near Ho Chi Minh City, tunnels which were used for fighting. Today, we got to check out all three levels of the tunnels. They were quite impressive.
At times during the tour, Mr. Anh became overwhelmed with emotion, remembering his fallen friends. He said the only reason he's a guide is because he needs the money. After the war, the Communists imprisoned him and seized all his assets and his home, an action which he said played out all over South Vietnam after the war.
Growing up, I read so much about the war. It was something getting to actually visit a few of the major battle sites, places like Khe Sanh and Quang Tri. The battlefields are long gone, but it's not hard to imagine what happened there 40 years ago.
According to Mr. Anh, there's still a lot of bad blood between the North and South. I guess that makes sense. Back in college, I took a Shakespeare course in London. The final day of class the teacher said, "You Americans think World War II happened so long ago, but to us, it feels like it happened yesterday, since it was fought on our soil." I imagine some Vietnamese share the same sentiment.
The DMZ is located about two hours from Hue, which during the 1800s, was the capital of Vietnam at the time of the Nguyen Dynasty. The town itself is pleasant and contains an Imperial City, built on the same principles as the Forbidden Palace in Beijing.
I enjoyed touring it, but after Angkor Wat, everything else seems tame in comparison.
The day before, I spent the night in Hoi An, which 200 years ago was a prosperous port. Today, the town looks more like a Chinese village than a village in Vietnam. It really draws in the tourists.
By the way, for once, I was on the other side of the camera this morning. I was eating on the street when a woman wanted to take my picture. I guess she doesn't see many Americans eating in the local places. Of course, I had to ham it up.
Also, I continue to have people walk up to me on the street wanting to practice their English. I'm happy to help, so actually I'm not traveling. I'm teaching English. My friend, Joanie, is kind enough to do my taxes each year. I'm thinking of asking her if I can write off all my future trips, since they are really working trips. I already know what she'll say. "Mark, no!" Hey, it doesn't hurt to try.
It's hard to believe that my trip is winding down. I have only about a week left. In the next day or so, I'm headed farther north to Hanoi, and then, I'll probably wrap up my trip in Ha Long Bay.
Things are still going great. I would write more, but I am meeting a couple of Americans for dinner. Plus, I am about to throw this computer against the wall because I am having trouble trying to decipher some of the Vietnamese keys.
As always, I'll be in touch.
"It was hell," according to Mr. Anh, who fought for South Vietnam/America. He said it was the last place a soldier wanted to be sent, and he said soldiers did everything possible to escape the horror, including staying drunk and high as much as possible to psyche themselves up for combat. Even though soldiers were given anti-malaria pills, Mr. Anh said most refused to take them, hoping to contract the disease to get out of the fight, if for only a few days.
Today, Mr. Anh acted as my guide on a tour of the region. He ought to know the area. Most soldiers served no more than 6 months at the DMZ, but Mr. Anh stayed here for 2 years because of his special skills as the chief scout. His job was so important that he said he was given a poison pill to swallow in case he were captured by the enemy.
Fighting raged all the time near the DMZ, but Mr. Anh said the worst happened at night. That's when up to 40,000 Viet Cong, hiding in Laos, only a 6-minute helicopter ride away, launched rocket attacks, while Viet Cong soldiers slipped across the border along the Ho Chi Minh trail, a network of bicycle paths built throughout the jungle to transport troops and supplies. I have no idea how the United States could have spotted the paths by air, especially at night.
The region was so crucial because of a major American supply route. The Viet Cong always wanted to disrupt it, and the other side needed to protect it.
The excellent day-long tour included a stop at the Vinh Moc tunnels, tunnels the Viet Cong used to transport supplies, meaning they were bigger than the ones I saw previously at Cu Chi, near Ho Chi Minh City, tunnels which were used for fighting. Today, we got to check out all three levels of the tunnels. They were quite impressive.
At times during the tour, Mr. Anh became overwhelmed with emotion, remembering his fallen friends. He said the only reason he's a guide is because he needs the money. After the war, the Communists imprisoned him and seized all his assets and his home, an action which he said played out all over South Vietnam after the war.
Growing up, I read so much about the war. It was something getting to actually visit a few of the major battle sites, places like Khe Sanh and Quang Tri. The battlefields are long gone, but it's not hard to imagine what happened there 40 years ago.
According to Mr. Anh, there's still a lot of bad blood between the North and South. I guess that makes sense. Back in college, I took a Shakespeare course in London. The final day of class the teacher said, "You Americans think World War II happened so long ago, but to us, it feels like it happened yesterday, since it was fought on our soil." I imagine some Vietnamese share the same sentiment.
The DMZ is located about two hours from Hue, which during the 1800s, was the capital of Vietnam at the time of the Nguyen Dynasty. The town itself is pleasant and contains an Imperial City, built on the same principles as the Forbidden Palace in Beijing.
I enjoyed touring it, but after Angkor Wat, everything else seems tame in comparison.
The day before, I spent the night in Hoi An, which 200 years ago was a prosperous port. Today, the town looks more like a Chinese village than a village in Vietnam. It really draws in the tourists.
By the way, for once, I was on the other side of the camera this morning. I was eating on the street when a woman wanted to take my picture. I guess she doesn't see many Americans eating in the local places. Of course, I had to ham it up.
Also, I continue to have people walk up to me on the street wanting to practice their English. I'm happy to help, so actually I'm not traveling. I'm teaching English. My friend, Joanie, is kind enough to do my taxes each year. I'm thinking of asking her if I can write off all my future trips, since they are really working trips. I already know what she'll say. "Mark, no!" Hey, it doesn't hurt to try.
It's hard to believe that my trip is winding down. I have only about a week left. In the next day or so, I'm headed farther north to Hanoi, and then, I'll probably wrap up my trip in Ha Long Bay.
Things are still going great. I would write more, but I am meeting a couple of Americans for dinner. Plus, I am about to throw this computer against the wall because I am having trouble trying to decipher some of the Vietnamese keys.
As always, I'll be in touch.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
A Slice of Paradise - Mui Ne, Vietnam - July 10, 2013
There's nothing going on in Mui Ne, a fishing village 5 hours east of Ho Chi Minh City. There's no amusement parks, no go-carts, no mega Walmart. There's nothing to do but relax, enjoy the beach, and savor awesome seafood.
Until a few years ago, this area was poor, according to a Vietnamese woman I met yesterday, but now it's become popular with residents of Ho Chi Minh, as well as foreigners. Still, since it doesn't have some of the bells and whistles, more tourists go to another beach a few hours away.
Mui Ne is the kind of place I wish Florida could be - lots of beaches and a lot less kitch. There is only one road that runs the length of the 15 miles or so of beaches, a road dotted by small hotels, stores, restaurants, and that's about it.
The last couple of days I've been swimming in the South China Sea or Phan Thiet Bay, to be exact. This is definitely a fishing village. The water is full of boats. At night, it appears from the lights a couple of miles off shore that a new village has magically sprung up out of the water, but it's just the fishermen hoping to land food, some of which I've had the pleasure to sample.
A couple of nights ago, I tried shrimp, but these weren't the tiny ones I'm used to eating. The waitress brought out some of the largest beauties I've even seen, still with their heads attached. Mmmm......Because of the location, you'd expect the seafood to be fresh. It's so fresh, in fact, that a lot of it is housed in tanks, which allows customers to select their own critters. Last night, I tried the sea bass.
Another aspect of Mui Ne I can't believe is the prices. In Florida, tourists should expect to pay $100 plus a night for a room and $20 plus for an entry. The prices in Mui Ne are comparable to Ho Chi Minh City. The shrimp cost less than $3, and I washed it down with 50-cent beer. My room on the beach went for $8 a night, and it was far from being a dive with AC, cable TV, hot water, and marble floors. Welcome to Southeast Asia.
I stay almost entirely in guest houses. Hotels have dozens of rooms. A guest house might have eight or nine. Hotels have a large staff. A guest house is often run by a family who lives in the facility. The person who checks you in might also make up your bed and cook dinner for guests. Hotels are, for the most part, impersonal. At guest houses, you might be invited to dinner and get to sample centipede-infused moonshine.
Mui Ne is a welcome contrast to the hustle and bustle of Ho Chi Minh City, a city of millions, a city that continues to experience explosive growth. Still, I quite enjoyed it. Now that I can cross the street.
My initial impression of Vietnam, compared to Laos and Cambodia, is that the country is definitely more developed and much stronger economically. With the high-end stores I saw in Ho Chi Minh City - Versace, Rolex, Mercedes - I could have been in Paris. The hygiene is also much better. So far, though, Cambodians are still friendlier, which is not to say I don't feel welcome here. Finally, there is much more regulation here. Remember, the lax motorcycle helmet laws in Cambodia - a 75-cent fine? Here, a Vietnamese man told me if you get caught without a helmet the police confiscate your motorcycle until you pay a hefty fine.
My mom is extremely mellow with my traveling, but years ago she told me if I have stories that might cause her to worry to save them for later. Now that the demon has passed I thought I'd share this tale.
As you'll recall, I visited the "killing caves" a couple of days before leaving Cambodia. By the way, afterward, I saw the most amazing bat flight of my life. About 5:30 p.m., millions of bats began pouring out of a cave for their nightly search for food. I'm told there's a non-stop stream of bats for about 45 minutes.
After watching for a few minutes, we drove a couple of miles away and looked back. The army of bats undulated in a slithering motion across the sky, like a giant, black, flying snake. It reminded me of a swarm of locusts, all heading in unison in the same direction. I was amazed I could see the bats from so far away.
I digress.
On the way home, I felt a storm churning in my belly. It's a feeling all travelers dread. The question was not whether I'd be sick. The question was how long the storm would last and how long might it put me on my back.
In the middle of the night, the storm blew. Everything inside my gut wanted out, and there were only two exit routs, both of which were used with great frequency. By about 3 a.m., the storm finally subsided enough for me to get an hour or two of sleep.
After being bedridden in Nicaragua for almost a week, I'd learned my lesson with dehydration. The next morning I forced myself out of bed and labored to the store to buy three liters of water. Then, as I returned to my room, a thought crossed through my aching head, a thought that filled me with hope and put a smile on my face - I had one packet of powdered Gatorade left. My brother and sister-in-law did me such a favor by suggesting including it in my pack.
At first, I first I thought my illness was due to something I ate, but I also ran a fever and had a cough. I read over some of the common illnesses listed in my guidebook, but the closest thing I could come up with is the flu; however, I wouldn't have been able to get out of bed with the flu.
Oh, well. The next two or three days were rough, but I tried to get a lot of rest and drink a lot of water, so now I'm feeling much better and think I'm over it.
Getting sick overseas really sucks. Getting sick in Cambodia is even worse. From everything I've read, it's recommended that foreign travelers leave immediately, if seriously ill, and get to Bangkok, if humanly possible. Even the visitor's guide in Battambang indicated that tourists in an emergency should evacuate to Bangkok or Singapore. Had my situation been grave, Bangkok was less than an hour away.
I've witnessed firsthand some of the medical facilities in Cambodia. When I first arrived, I was walking through Kratie and saw several open-air clinics where people were receiving IVs. The floors were dirty. No workers were wearing gloves. The sheets weren't being changed when new patients arrived.
The journalist I met in Siem Reap told me the clinics are popular for people in the outlying areas who contract malaria and dengue fever. The journalist said he's seen the clinics run out of plastic IV bags and have to actually use bowls to administer IVs. He said I definitely wouldn't want to be hooked up to one.
I've been so lucky with my health traveling abroad the last three years. I guess I was due. That's all part of the price one my pay sometimes visiting foreign lands.
Still, my luck continues to hold with the weather. It's becoming a familiar story. Yesterday, a Vietnamese woman told me it rained non-stop last week for several days. I've experienced very little rain throughout my trip, even though this is the heart of monsoon season. I've probably come across less rain in Southeast Asia than I'd normally encounter in America.
I've written long enough. In a few hours, I'm heading north to the coastal city of Hoi An. As always, I'll be in touch.
Until a few years ago, this area was poor, according to a Vietnamese woman I met yesterday, but now it's become popular with residents of Ho Chi Minh, as well as foreigners. Still, since it doesn't have some of the bells and whistles, more tourists go to another beach a few hours away.
Mui Ne is the kind of place I wish Florida could be - lots of beaches and a lot less kitch. There is only one road that runs the length of the 15 miles or so of beaches, a road dotted by small hotels, stores, restaurants, and that's about it.
The last couple of days I've been swimming in the South China Sea or Phan Thiet Bay, to be exact. This is definitely a fishing village. The water is full of boats. At night, it appears from the lights a couple of miles off shore that a new village has magically sprung up out of the water, but it's just the fishermen hoping to land food, some of which I've had the pleasure to sample.
A couple of nights ago, I tried shrimp, but these weren't the tiny ones I'm used to eating. The waitress brought out some of the largest beauties I've even seen, still with their heads attached. Mmmm......Because of the location, you'd expect the seafood to be fresh. It's so fresh, in fact, that a lot of it is housed in tanks, which allows customers to select their own critters. Last night, I tried the sea bass.
Another aspect of Mui Ne I can't believe is the prices. In Florida, tourists should expect to pay $100 plus a night for a room and $20 plus for an entry. The prices in Mui Ne are comparable to Ho Chi Minh City. The shrimp cost less than $3, and I washed it down with 50-cent beer. My room on the beach went for $8 a night, and it was far from being a dive with AC, cable TV, hot water, and marble floors. Welcome to Southeast Asia.
I stay almost entirely in guest houses. Hotels have dozens of rooms. A guest house might have eight or nine. Hotels have a large staff. A guest house is often run by a family who lives in the facility. The person who checks you in might also make up your bed and cook dinner for guests. Hotels are, for the most part, impersonal. At guest houses, you might be invited to dinner and get to sample centipede-infused moonshine.
Mui Ne is a welcome contrast to the hustle and bustle of Ho Chi Minh City, a city of millions, a city that continues to experience explosive growth. Still, I quite enjoyed it. Now that I can cross the street.
My initial impression of Vietnam, compared to Laos and Cambodia, is that the country is definitely more developed and much stronger economically. With the high-end stores I saw in Ho Chi Minh City - Versace, Rolex, Mercedes - I could have been in Paris. The hygiene is also much better. So far, though, Cambodians are still friendlier, which is not to say I don't feel welcome here. Finally, there is much more regulation here. Remember, the lax motorcycle helmet laws in Cambodia - a 75-cent fine? Here, a Vietnamese man told me if you get caught without a helmet the police confiscate your motorcycle until you pay a hefty fine.
My mom is extremely mellow with my traveling, but years ago she told me if I have stories that might cause her to worry to save them for later. Now that the demon has passed I thought I'd share this tale.
As you'll recall, I visited the "killing caves" a couple of days before leaving Cambodia. By the way, afterward, I saw the most amazing bat flight of my life. About 5:30 p.m., millions of bats began pouring out of a cave for their nightly search for food. I'm told there's a non-stop stream of bats for about 45 minutes.
After watching for a few minutes, we drove a couple of miles away and looked back. The army of bats undulated in a slithering motion across the sky, like a giant, black, flying snake. It reminded me of a swarm of locusts, all heading in unison in the same direction. I was amazed I could see the bats from so far away.
I digress.
On the way home, I felt a storm churning in my belly. It's a feeling all travelers dread. The question was not whether I'd be sick. The question was how long the storm would last and how long might it put me on my back.
In the middle of the night, the storm blew. Everything inside my gut wanted out, and there were only two exit routs, both of which were used with great frequency. By about 3 a.m., the storm finally subsided enough for me to get an hour or two of sleep.
After being bedridden in Nicaragua for almost a week, I'd learned my lesson with dehydration. The next morning I forced myself out of bed and labored to the store to buy three liters of water. Then, as I returned to my room, a thought crossed through my aching head, a thought that filled me with hope and put a smile on my face - I had one packet of powdered Gatorade left. My brother and sister-in-law did me such a favor by suggesting including it in my pack.
At first, I first I thought my illness was due to something I ate, but I also ran a fever and had a cough. I read over some of the common illnesses listed in my guidebook, but the closest thing I could come up with is the flu; however, I wouldn't have been able to get out of bed with the flu.
Oh, well. The next two or three days were rough, but I tried to get a lot of rest and drink a lot of water, so now I'm feeling much better and think I'm over it.
Getting sick overseas really sucks. Getting sick in Cambodia is even worse. From everything I've read, it's recommended that foreign travelers leave immediately, if seriously ill, and get to Bangkok, if humanly possible. Even the visitor's guide in Battambang indicated that tourists in an emergency should evacuate to Bangkok or Singapore. Had my situation been grave, Bangkok was less than an hour away.
I've witnessed firsthand some of the medical facilities in Cambodia. When I first arrived, I was walking through Kratie and saw several open-air clinics where people were receiving IVs. The floors were dirty. No workers were wearing gloves. The sheets weren't being changed when new patients arrived.
The journalist I met in Siem Reap told me the clinics are popular for people in the outlying areas who contract malaria and dengue fever. The journalist said he's seen the clinics run out of plastic IV bags and have to actually use bowls to administer IVs. He said I definitely wouldn't want to be hooked up to one.
I've been so lucky with my health traveling abroad the last three years. I guess I was due. That's all part of the price one my pay sometimes visiting foreign lands.
Still, my luck continues to hold with the weather. It's becoming a familiar story. Yesterday, a Vietnamese woman told me it rained non-stop last week for several days. I've experienced very little rain throughout my trip, even though this is the heart of monsoon season. I've probably come across less rain in Southeast Asia than I'd normally encounter in America.
I've written long enough. In a few hours, I'm heading north to the coastal city of Hoi An. As always, I'll be in touch.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Vietnam Adventure Begins - Ho Chi Minh City - July 7, 2013
As you can see, the information I read about internet sites being blocked is incorrect, at least for my blog.
I am writing from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) from my guest house. Actually, it is a room for rent in a private family's house. They are very friendly but speak little to no English. Since I am on their computer, I will make this a quick entry.
I've heard mixed reviews about Vietnam, but so far, the people have been very welcoming. Just a couple of hours ago, a man stopped me on the street and asked me where I was from. I was expecting a sales pitch, but he was just being friendly.
When I told him I was from America, he shook my hand and said, "I am happy you are here." He wished me a safe journey and all the best. What a nice gesture.
This morning, I visited some of the extensive network of tunnels used by the Viet Con during the Vietnam War. After seeing them, it's much easier to understand how the United States had such a difficult time fighting and finding the enemy in the jungle. The tunnels are well hidden, booby trapped, and just large enough for Vietnamese people to squirm through them.Generally speaking, the Vietnamese are physically smaller than Americans, and American soldiers carried a lot more equipment, making it an arduous task penetrating the tunnels.
On the tour, I had an opportunity to squeeze through one of the hatches and glimpse at a tunnel. I don't know how I could have gotten through one. At the end of the tour, we were able to actually explore one of the tunnels, which has been widened for tourists. I'm a caver, and I still got extremely claustrophobic after a few yards. The tunnels are quite complex, having three levels. The lower levels were dug so deep that not even bombing could reach the soldiers.
It must have been a horrific battlefield.
The last couple of days I've also been checking out Ho Chi Minh City. It reminds me much more of a European city than one in Southeast Asia. I guess that is due to the French influence.
This afternoon, I had a little excitement. I am piecing the story together, after talking to a couple of the direct witnesses who were there at the beginning of the incident.
Apparently, two Korean girls were strolling on the street, one of whom had out an I-phone. I've read that motorcycle snatch and grap robberies are becoming a problem here. A motorcycle roared past, and the driver took the girl's phone. The girls and witnesses began screaming.
The driver made too sharp a turn and crashed, but immediately tried to get back on his motorcycle. It was too late for that.
Suddenly, bystanders ran from all directions and pounched on top of him, pinning him to the asphalt. I have a feeling that the crook might have taken a beating, if the police didn't also jump on top of the pile seconds later, cuff the robber, and drag him away to jail.
I've never seen so many people get involved so quickly. The Vietnamese don't fool around.
Yesterday, once again, I had no problems at the border, and once again, no one even searched my pack. The luck continues.
Tomorrow, I'm heading north to Mui Ne for a couple of days at the beach.
I'm hoping the internet access holds up. So, maybe, I really will be able to keep in touch.
I am writing from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) from my guest house. Actually, it is a room for rent in a private family's house. They are very friendly but speak little to no English. Since I am on their computer, I will make this a quick entry.
I've heard mixed reviews about Vietnam, but so far, the people have been very welcoming. Just a couple of hours ago, a man stopped me on the street and asked me where I was from. I was expecting a sales pitch, but he was just being friendly.
When I told him I was from America, he shook my hand and said, "I am happy you are here." He wished me a safe journey and all the best. What a nice gesture.
This morning, I visited some of the extensive network of tunnels used by the Viet Con during the Vietnam War. After seeing them, it's much easier to understand how the United States had such a difficult time fighting and finding the enemy in the jungle. The tunnels are well hidden, booby trapped, and just large enough for Vietnamese people to squirm through them.Generally speaking, the Vietnamese are physically smaller than Americans, and American soldiers carried a lot more equipment, making it an arduous task penetrating the tunnels.
On the tour, I had an opportunity to squeeze through one of the hatches and glimpse at a tunnel. I don't know how I could have gotten through one. At the end of the tour, we were able to actually explore one of the tunnels, which has been widened for tourists. I'm a caver, and I still got extremely claustrophobic after a few yards. The tunnels are quite complex, having three levels. The lower levels were dug so deep that not even bombing could reach the soldiers.
It must have been a horrific battlefield.
The last couple of days I've also been checking out Ho Chi Minh City. It reminds me much more of a European city than one in Southeast Asia. I guess that is due to the French influence.
This afternoon, I had a little excitement. I am piecing the story together, after talking to a couple of the direct witnesses who were there at the beginning of the incident.
Apparently, two Korean girls were strolling on the street, one of whom had out an I-phone. I've read that motorcycle snatch and grap robberies are becoming a problem here. A motorcycle roared past, and the driver took the girl's phone. The girls and witnesses began screaming.
The driver made too sharp a turn and crashed, but immediately tried to get back on his motorcycle. It was too late for that.
Suddenly, bystanders ran from all directions and pounched on top of him, pinning him to the asphalt. I have a feeling that the crook might have taken a beating, if the police didn't also jump on top of the pile seconds later, cuff the robber, and drag him away to jail.
I've never seen so many people get involved so quickly. The Vietnamese don't fool around.
Yesterday, once again, I had no problems at the border, and once again, no one even searched my pack. The luck continues.
Tomorrow, I'm heading north to Mui Ne for a couple of days at the beach.
I'm hoping the internet access holds up. So, maybe, I really will be able to keep in touch.
Friday, July 5, 2013
A Visit to the Killing Fields Memorial - July 5, 2013
I am back in Phnom Penh, the home of the most famous memorial to those who perished in the killing fields. In all, there were about 300 such places of torture and death throughout Cambodia.
Again, Pol Pot wanted to start over in Cambodia and return the country to an agrarian, classless society. In his mind, there was no need for technology or money or anything else but farming, which made any professional people obsolete and a potential threat to the state. The other day I read that more than 20,000 engineers were put to death across the country and essentially all architects, which has made it especially difficult for Cambodia to develop to this day.
By looking at the memorial, you'd never know an estimated 17,000 people died at the extermination camp. When Pol Pot finally lost power, the Cambodians ripped down all the structures, but there is still evidence of the pits used for mass graves. The memorial is quite well done. Visitors are able to listen to an audio presentation while walking through the grounds, which adds a lot to the understanding of what happened there.
At times, it was a bit overwhelming. Bone fragments still wash up during rainy season, and there are numerous skulls displayed in cases throughout the facility I think I'm ready to be done with the killing fields.
Getting to the killing fields was an adventure in itself. I negotiated with a motorcycle taxi to take me out to the grounds and bring me back. As I've mentioned before, I enjoy negotiating. It's all done in a friendly way, but tourists need to have a general idea of the price, or they could be quoted an exorbitant fee.
After completing the negotiations, I climbed on the back, and we were off, weaving through the heavy traffic of Phnom Penh. At times, I cringed, as we motored between rows of cars, but I kept telling myself, "He knows what he's doing."
There's a strange law in Cambodia. The driver must have a helmet, but no passengers are required to have one. I've seen some strange riding arrangements. Today, a woman was on the back of a motorcycle with three boxes in front of her, and her toddler riding on top of the boxes, clinging to the driver.
A week ago, I told you about the lack of regulation here. If a driver is caught without a helmet, the fine is the equivalent of 75 cents. Many drivers who can't afford a helmet just carry the money in their pockets to pay off any fine.
I've been debating about bringing it up,but it seems appropriate because the sex industry is an epidemic around the world, including Southeast Asia. In Thailand, it was especially apparent in Bangkok. It's also quite common in Phnom Penh.
Throughout my trip, people have been asking me if I want drugs or prostitutes. Last night, a guy said, "Mister, you want smoke?" Of course, I said, "No!" Then, he said, "You want pretty woman?" Again, I said,"No!" and was getting a little annoyed. Finally, when he asked, "Do you want a young boy?" I snapped, got up in his face, and yelled at him. That probably wasn't a smart thing to do, but it just happened.
The fate of those forced into prostitution is tragic enough, but what really pisses me off is looking at older Anglo men walking around with young Cambodian girls or boys or Anglo men being accompanied by young Thai girls or boys. It's obvious they aren't related, and the expression on the faces of those hiring the prostitutes says it all.
Before I sign off, I wanted to let you know this might be the end of my blog for the summer. Today, I read that Vietnam, like China, blocks a lot of internet sites, especially any sites referencing Vietnam in any context. So, this could be my last entry. I just didn't want anyone to be concerned if they don't hear from me for the next couple of weeks.
Tomorrow, I head to Vietnam.
I've enjoyed sharing the details of my journey. So, from now on, I may or may not be in touch.
Again, Pol Pot wanted to start over in Cambodia and return the country to an agrarian, classless society. In his mind, there was no need for technology or money or anything else but farming, which made any professional people obsolete and a potential threat to the state. The other day I read that more than 20,000 engineers were put to death across the country and essentially all architects, which has made it especially difficult for Cambodia to develop to this day.
By looking at the memorial, you'd never know an estimated 17,000 people died at the extermination camp. When Pol Pot finally lost power, the Cambodians ripped down all the structures, but there is still evidence of the pits used for mass graves. The memorial is quite well done. Visitors are able to listen to an audio presentation while walking through the grounds, which adds a lot to the understanding of what happened there.
At times, it was a bit overwhelming. Bone fragments still wash up during rainy season, and there are numerous skulls displayed in cases throughout the facility I think I'm ready to be done with the killing fields.
Getting to the killing fields was an adventure in itself. I negotiated with a motorcycle taxi to take me out to the grounds and bring me back. As I've mentioned before, I enjoy negotiating. It's all done in a friendly way, but tourists need to have a general idea of the price, or they could be quoted an exorbitant fee.
After completing the negotiations, I climbed on the back, and we were off, weaving through the heavy traffic of Phnom Penh. At times, I cringed, as we motored between rows of cars, but I kept telling myself, "He knows what he's doing."
There's a strange law in Cambodia. The driver must have a helmet, but no passengers are required to have one. I've seen some strange riding arrangements. Today, a woman was on the back of a motorcycle with three boxes in front of her, and her toddler riding on top of the boxes, clinging to the driver.
A week ago, I told you about the lack of regulation here. If a driver is caught without a helmet, the fine is the equivalent of 75 cents. Many drivers who can't afford a helmet just carry the money in their pockets to pay off any fine.
I've been debating about bringing it up,but it seems appropriate because the sex industry is an epidemic around the world, including Southeast Asia. In Thailand, it was especially apparent in Bangkok. It's also quite common in Phnom Penh.
Throughout my trip, people have been asking me if I want drugs or prostitutes. Last night, a guy said, "Mister, you want smoke?" Of course, I said, "No!" Then, he said, "You want pretty woman?" Again, I said,"No!" and was getting a little annoyed. Finally, when he asked, "Do you want a young boy?" I snapped, got up in his face, and yelled at him. That probably wasn't a smart thing to do, but it just happened.
The fate of those forced into prostitution is tragic enough, but what really pisses me off is looking at older Anglo men walking around with young Cambodian girls or boys or Anglo men being accompanied by young Thai girls or boys. It's obvious they aren't related, and the expression on the faces of those hiring the prostitutes says it all.
Before I sign off, I wanted to let you know this might be the end of my blog for the summer. Today, I read that Vietnam, like China, blocks a lot of internet sites, especially any sites referencing Vietnam in any context. So, this could be my last entry. I just didn't want anyone to be concerned if they don't hear from me for the next couple of weeks.
Tomorrow, I head to Vietnam.
I've enjoyed sharing the details of my journey. So, from now on, I may or may not be in touch.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
The Killing Cave - Battambang, Cambodia - July 4, 2013
The height of the Khmer empire occurred around the 12th century. When Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge seized power in 1975, the leader hoped to return Cambodia to its glorious past. Pol Pot attempted to achieve the goal by almost overnight transforming the country into an agrarian society and essentially restarting Cambodia from scratch. The leader outlawed medicine, modern technology, education, newspapers, and even money. Then, he emptied out the cities.
To maintain control, the Khmer Rouge split apart families and relied on widespread torture and executions. Since Pol Pot wanted only farmers, professional people were at the top of his hit list.
If we accept the conservative number of 1 million killed out of a population of 7 million, that means roughly 15 percent died. I did the math to put it into context in relation to the population of America, which is about 300 million. If 15 percent of our current population died, that would mean 45 million deaths.
The so called "killing fields" surround Phnom Penh, but the sites can also be found in other parts of Cambodia, including Battambang, which has a "killing cave."
According to my guide, Tong, the Khmer Rouge imprisoned people in a Buddhist temple, tortured and killed them, and then threw their bodies into a cave with a pit entrance. He said an estimated 10 to 20 thousand died.
There were a couple of smaller, adjacent caves also used for dumping bodies, one of which, at the permission of another guide, I explored, since I had my light. About 100 feet in, I stumbled across bones and shredded clothing. That ended my exploration. I love caves, but I had to respect the resting place of the death. When I told the guide what I found, he said something to the effect of "I should have warned you."
Earlier in the day, Tong took me though the countryside, where I experienced a transportation first. During this trip, I've ridden on planes, trains, buses, boats, ferries, tuk-tuks, the back of motorcycles, and ridden bicycles, but until yesterday, I'd never ridden a bamboo train. What is a bamboo train you ask?
Until 15 years ago, some outlying villages here had no roads, making it difficult for farmers to get their crops and livestock to market. However, there were railroad tracks, so farmers came up with the ingenious idea of devising a small bamboo car, which sits on top of a couple of sets of wheels that are placed on the rails. The device is powered by a small motorcycle engine.
If another freight train or bamboo train comes along the tracks, the bamboo train driver, with the assistance of one other person, lifts the contraption off the tracks, which takes only a couple of minutes. Then the other train passes.
Speaking of transportation, I believe I'm beginning to understand the seeming traffic chaos. Most of the intersections in Cambodia don't have traffic lights, so it's up to individuals to navigate their own paths. I liken it to a swarm of bees entering the hive. The mass of cars, buses, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians are all moving at once, but they don't run into one another.
The trick seems to be to find an opening in the swarm and occupy that spot, trusting that the swarm will work around you as you continue across the intersection.
My mistake in Phnom Penh, when I couldn't cross the street, was assuming that the swarm would stop. That doesn't happen. I should have just found my opening, walked a few steps into the street, and waited for additional openings to appear before me.
At first, it's a bit intimidating because vehicles might be crossing inches in front and back of you, but the swarm is paying attention. The worst mistake is seeing an initial opening and trying to run as quickly as possible across the entire street. Then the swarm has trouble reacting.
In Siem Reap, I rode my bicycle through heavy traffic and used the same strategy of finding an initial opening and starting across the intersection, assuming the bees wouldn't bump into me.It worked, or I was fortunate. I assume the locals realize I'm not from around here and give me a wide berth.
At times, bicycles can offer a huge advantage over cars. Outside a temple complex at Angkor, vehicle traffic was at a standstill, so I followed the lead of my bicyclist friends and peddled in between the cars. There were no honks, no harsh words or harsh glances, and within no time I was out of the log jam.
The difference between Southeast Asia and America is that motorcycles and bicycles seem to be an accepted part of the transportation landscape.
Yesterday, I saw the sites. The day before I took care of some business and strolled through the city. All of the countries I've visited this summer issue visas at the border, with the exception of Vietnam, which requires an advanced visa. I could have acquired one before my trip, but I didn't know when or even if I would cross into Vietnam, and the government needs an entry date.
Originally, I thought I'd have to get a visa in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, but to my delight, I discovered Battambang has a Vietnamese consulate just five minutes walking distance from my guest house. A visa can take up to five days. Again, luck was on my side because I applied for it at 3 in the afternoon and picked it up the next morning.
I've given some thought to heading south to the beach, but it's a 12-hour trip, and some gorgeous beaches are waiting in Vietnam, if I so chose to check one out. That means, today, I'm taking a short bus ride back to the capital, where I'll spend a day or two before heading east to Vietnam.
As always, I'll be in touch.
To maintain control, the Khmer Rouge split apart families and relied on widespread torture and executions. Since Pol Pot wanted only farmers, professional people were at the top of his hit list.
If we accept the conservative number of 1 million killed out of a population of 7 million, that means roughly 15 percent died. I did the math to put it into context in relation to the population of America, which is about 300 million. If 15 percent of our current population died, that would mean 45 million deaths.
The so called "killing fields" surround Phnom Penh, but the sites can also be found in other parts of Cambodia, including Battambang, which has a "killing cave."
According to my guide, Tong, the Khmer Rouge imprisoned people in a Buddhist temple, tortured and killed them, and then threw their bodies into a cave with a pit entrance. He said an estimated 10 to 20 thousand died.
There were a couple of smaller, adjacent caves also used for dumping bodies, one of which, at the permission of another guide, I explored, since I had my light. About 100 feet in, I stumbled across bones and shredded clothing. That ended my exploration. I love caves, but I had to respect the resting place of the death. When I told the guide what I found, he said something to the effect of "I should have warned you."
Earlier in the day, Tong took me though the countryside, where I experienced a transportation first. During this trip, I've ridden on planes, trains, buses, boats, ferries, tuk-tuks, the back of motorcycles, and ridden bicycles, but until yesterday, I'd never ridden a bamboo train. What is a bamboo train you ask?
Until 15 years ago, some outlying villages here had no roads, making it difficult for farmers to get their crops and livestock to market. However, there were railroad tracks, so farmers came up with the ingenious idea of devising a small bamboo car, which sits on top of a couple of sets of wheels that are placed on the rails. The device is powered by a small motorcycle engine.
If another freight train or bamboo train comes along the tracks, the bamboo train driver, with the assistance of one other person, lifts the contraption off the tracks, which takes only a couple of minutes. Then the other train passes.
Speaking of transportation, I believe I'm beginning to understand the seeming traffic chaos. Most of the intersections in Cambodia don't have traffic lights, so it's up to individuals to navigate their own paths. I liken it to a swarm of bees entering the hive. The mass of cars, buses, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians are all moving at once, but they don't run into one another.
The trick seems to be to find an opening in the swarm and occupy that spot, trusting that the swarm will work around you as you continue across the intersection.
My mistake in Phnom Penh, when I couldn't cross the street, was assuming that the swarm would stop. That doesn't happen. I should have just found my opening, walked a few steps into the street, and waited for additional openings to appear before me.
At first, it's a bit intimidating because vehicles might be crossing inches in front and back of you, but the swarm is paying attention. The worst mistake is seeing an initial opening and trying to run as quickly as possible across the entire street. Then the swarm has trouble reacting.
In Siem Reap, I rode my bicycle through heavy traffic and used the same strategy of finding an initial opening and starting across the intersection, assuming the bees wouldn't bump into me.It worked, or I was fortunate. I assume the locals realize I'm not from around here and give me a wide berth.
At times, bicycles can offer a huge advantage over cars. Outside a temple complex at Angkor, vehicle traffic was at a standstill, so I followed the lead of my bicyclist friends and peddled in between the cars. There were no honks, no harsh words or harsh glances, and within no time I was out of the log jam.
The difference between Southeast Asia and America is that motorcycles and bicycles seem to be an accepted part of the transportation landscape.
Yesterday, I saw the sites. The day before I took care of some business and strolled through the city. All of the countries I've visited this summer issue visas at the border, with the exception of Vietnam, which requires an advanced visa. I could have acquired one before my trip, but I didn't know when or even if I would cross into Vietnam, and the government needs an entry date.
Originally, I thought I'd have to get a visa in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, but to my delight, I discovered Battambang has a Vietnamese consulate just five minutes walking distance from my guest house. A visa can take up to five days. Again, luck was on my side because I applied for it at 3 in the afternoon and picked it up the next morning.
I've given some thought to heading south to the beach, but it's a 12-hour trip, and some gorgeous beaches are waiting in Vietnam, if I so chose to check one out. That means, today, I'm taking a short bus ride back to the capital, where I'll spend a day or two before heading east to Vietnam.
As always, I'll be in touch.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Sunrise at Angkor Wat - July 1, 2013
Dawn was fast approaching, as I feverishly peddled my Mary Poppins-like bicycle, complete with a basket attached in front, trying to arrive at my destination before the sun appeared in the sky.
Finally, the main entrance was in sight. I'd make it in time. Success!
"Sir, where's your ticket?"
"No problem," I thought. "I've got it right here."
Then, to my horror, I noticed the corner of the ticket was torn. The agent didn't look pleased.
A conference with other agents and a supervisor ensued. "The serial number on the edge is missing," said the initial agent.
My spirits sank. I'd gotten up at 3:30 for nothing. I'd have to buy a new ticket, but the office wouldn't be open until after sunrise.
I dug deep into my pocket, hoping beyond hope, and then I felt it - the missing sliver of paper with the rest of the serial number, the tiny sliver of paper blocking me from my quest. I handed the scrap to the agent, who smiled, taped the corner into place, and I was off again into the darkness, sweat pouring off me.
Minutes later, I stopped, and there it was, the exterior of one of the most famous ancient structures in the world - Angkor Wat.
The temple complex at Angkor is spread out over miles, but this is the one everyone comes to see. Angkor Wat is the world's biggest religious monument. It was the heart of the Khmer empire that at one point spanned half of Southeast Asia.
I, along with 500 of my closest friends, walked into the temple grounds and took up our positions. Not even the incessant cries of "Mister, would you like to buy a bottle of ice cold water?" or "Miss, a pretty silk scarf for you?" could ruin the moment.
The sun peeked above the tree tops, illuminating the awe-inspiring temple. My early morning jaunt had been worth it.
Today, I wrapped up my two-day exploration of the complex. Yesterday, I spent about 8-hours peddling around in the 97-degree heat, which wasn't too bad. Actually, I've been extremely lucky with the weather. The week before I arrived it rained non-stop, causing widespread flooding. One of the reasons I came to Cambodia before Vietnam was because the monsoons pick up in July. I made a good choice.
The complex is quite impressive, but I also enjoyed just peddling around through the jungle, not knowing what I'd discover next - a mysterious temple, a pack of monkeys, a vendor hawking necklaces. "Buy one for your wife or your mother."
Although there's plenty of freedom to explore, the guide books claim it's best not to wander off well-used trails because landmines were planted on some outlying paths in the 1970s to keep the Khmer Rouge out of the complex. Most have now been removed, but still the books indicate it's best to be careful.
Personally, it sounded a bit over dramatic to me, until I met George, a photojournalist specializing in covering human rights and human rights abuses.
George said landmines are a huge problem across Cambodia, landmines planted over the years by foreign governments, by internal combatants, and even by farmers, trying to keep intruders off their land. Unfortunately, maps don't exist for many of the mines and flood waters can scatter the mines around.
"It's no joke when mommie tells her kids not to go beyond the fence," said George, who has photographed countless amputees maimed by the mines.
I feel extremely safe in Cambodia, but George says the country possesses a less than stellar track record regarding human rights. Recently, the long-time prime minister, who's running for re-election at the end of the month, was quoted as saying if anyone opposes his policies, that person "will be struck down by lightning," according to George.
The journalist went on to say that reporters, especially, need to be careful. In recent months, George said a writer was doing stories on illegal timber operations. Two weeks ago, George said the journalist was found in the back of a car chopped up into pieces.
I would encourage everyone to visit Cambodia. The people are some of the friendliest I've ever met. So far, Cambodia might be my favorite destination of the trip, but as I've written before, Cambodia isn't Disney Land.
By the way, George, who's English, said when he first arrived here he, too, expected a chilly reception because England has also meddled in Cambodian's internal affairs, most notably he said by helping to train leaders of the Khmer Rouge.
However, George has also been embraced by the Cambodians. His theory is that the country has had such a long history of foreign aggressors that it would be impossible to hold a grudge against so many people.He says Cambodians tend to forgive and forget.
It's been a great three days exploring Siem Reap, the city just outside Angkor, and touring the complex, itself. Tomorrow, I'm either headed west to Battambang or back to Phnom Penh, but time is now more of a consideration. My Buddhist friend in Thailand would say time every day is ticking down on my life. It's also ticking down on my trip.
I've now been on the road for a month and have only three weeks left. Hopefully, more adventures are waiting. As always, I'll be in touch.
Finally, the main entrance was in sight. I'd make it in time. Success!
"Sir, where's your ticket?"
"No problem," I thought. "I've got it right here."
Then, to my horror, I noticed the corner of the ticket was torn. The agent didn't look pleased.
A conference with other agents and a supervisor ensued. "The serial number on the edge is missing," said the initial agent.
My spirits sank. I'd gotten up at 3:30 for nothing. I'd have to buy a new ticket, but the office wouldn't be open until after sunrise.
I dug deep into my pocket, hoping beyond hope, and then I felt it - the missing sliver of paper with the rest of the serial number, the tiny sliver of paper blocking me from my quest. I handed the scrap to the agent, who smiled, taped the corner into place, and I was off again into the darkness, sweat pouring off me.
Minutes later, I stopped, and there it was, the exterior of one of the most famous ancient structures in the world - Angkor Wat.
The temple complex at Angkor is spread out over miles, but this is the one everyone comes to see. Angkor Wat is the world's biggest religious monument. It was the heart of the Khmer empire that at one point spanned half of Southeast Asia.
I, along with 500 of my closest friends, walked into the temple grounds and took up our positions. Not even the incessant cries of "Mister, would you like to buy a bottle of ice cold water?" or "Miss, a pretty silk scarf for you?" could ruin the moment.
The sun peeked above the tree tops, illuminating the awe-inspiring temple. My early morning jaunt had been worth it.
Today, I wrapped up my two-day exploration of the complex. Yesterday, I spent about 8-hours peddling around in the 97-degree heat, which wasn't too bad. Actually, I've been extremely lucky with the weather. The week before I arrived it rained non-stop, causing widespread flooding. One of the reasons I came to Cambodia before Vietnam was because the monsoons pick up in July. I made a good choice.
The complex is quite impressive, but I also enjoyed just peddling around through the jungle, not knowing what I'd discover next - a mysterious temple, a pack of monkeys, a vendor hawking necklaces. "Buy one for your wife or your mother."
Although there's plenty of freedom to explore, the guide books claim it's best not to wander off well-used trails because landmines were planted on some outlying paths in the 1970s to keep the Khmer Rouge out of the complex. Most have now been removed, but still the books indicate it's best to be careful.
Personally, it sounded a bit over dramatic to me, until I met George, a photojournalist specializing in covering human rights and human rights abuses.
George said landmines are a huge problem across Cambodia, landmines planted over the years by foreign governments, by internal combatants, and even by farmers, trying to keep intruders off their land. Unfortunately, maps don't exist for many of the mines and flood waters can scatter the mines around.
"It's no joke when mommie tells her kids not to go beyond the fence," said George, who has photographed countless amputees maimed by the mines.
I feel extremely safe in Cambodia, but George says the country possesses a less than stellar track record regarding human rights. Recently, the long-time prime minister, who's running for re-election at the end of the month, was quoted as saying if anyone opposes his policies, that person "will be struck down by lightning," according to George.
The journalist went on to say that reporters, especially, need to be careful. In recent months, George said a writer was doing stories on illegal timber operations. Two weeks ago, George said the journalist was found in the back of a car chopped up into pieces.
I would encourage everyone to visit Cambodia. The people are some of the friendliest I've ever met. So far, Cambodia might be my favorite destination of the trip, but as I've written before, Cambodia isn't Disney Land.
By the way, George, who's English, said when he first arrived here he, too, expected a chilly reception because England has also meddled in Cambodian's internal affairs, most notably he said by helping to train leaders of the Khmer Rouge.
However, George has also been embraced by the Cambodians. His theory is that the country has had such a long history of foreign aggressors that it would be impossible to hold a grudge against so many people.He says Cambodians tend to forgive and forget.
It's been a great three days exploring Siem Reap, the city just outside Angkor, and touring the complex, itself. Tomorrow, I'm either headed west to Battambang or back to Phnom Penh, but time is now more of a consideration. My Buddhist friend in Thailand would say time every day is ticking down on my life. It's also ticking down on my trip.
I've now been on the road for a month and have only three weeks left. Hopefully, more adventures are waiting. As always, I'll be in touch.
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