Closing Out on a Great Trip

Hard to believe that this excursion is almost over, but I’m in Siem Reap, Cambodia, with one day of exploring left before the big bird home. It’s been a gratifying trip, with everyone on the tour of the same mind, enjoying the company and experiencing some remarkable new adventures. Just today, we visited a local elementary school that happens to float like a barge to various locations (depending on water levels of the immense Tonle Sap Lake). The adorable kids don’t mind, as most of them are river people, whose parents inhabit floating fishing villages that similarly move about with the season. We journeyed there on ox cart (recommendation: don’t get too close to the front of the cart and/or the back of the ox), and on the way paid a visit to the home of the driver, whose family lives in a one-room structure high on stilts. As it is said here: it isn’t a question of if the waters will rise; it’s when. His little sister entertained us by proudly reading repeatedly out of her English language primer. We then took a boat ride for about 90 minutes, motoring through various floating villages that function much like their dryer counterparts on land: convenience store/boats, church/boats, even a floating bar/boat populate these dense towns on water, each village composed of many small fishing boats occupied by large families.

BUT FIRST, THE MEKONG DELTA
Before leaving Saigon for the short flight to Siem Reap, we spent a day cruising the Mekong Delta. This is really a scenic treasure, reminding me of thick jungle rivers in the South Pacific. Fishing villages are everywhere. We traveled by motorboat for part of the trip, and then transferred to sampans, propelled by a male oarsman in the back and a female oarsman up front. (I’m guessing the correct term should be “oarsperson.”) We glided through narrow canals with thick vegetation growing over us on both sides, then stopped at a bee farm and, of all things, a coconut candy factory. This is a photo of me with a new friend; quite a hugger on the first date. As lush as the growth is in this huge estuary, it’s odd that there is very little birdsong, and few birds to be seen. In other parts of the world, they would dominate. But here, damage from Agent Orange and other defoliants still affect not only the third generation of post-war babies, but also the wildlife. It’s estimated that it will be many years before the balance of nature is restored.

ON TO CAMBODIA
Siem Reap is a small town with three traffic lights, but lots of nightlife. Tourists are here from everywhere to marvel at the Angkor temples a few miles outside of the city. At its height between 800 and 1200 AD, this was the seat of power for Southeast Asia, with city populations in the millions. It’s estimated that the Ta Proh temple complex, pictured here with its photogenic ruins strangled by the roots of giant banyan trees, owned more than 3,000 villages and was maintained by 80,000 attendants. This was one powerful king. We got an early morning start to take in as much as we could, and after five hours had exhausted most of the minor complex areas. Such beautiful art work, intricately carved in sandstone. All of this was undiscovered until the French started cutting back the jungle here around the turn of the last century. Then it all became overgrown again, as Cambodia entered its dark period under the Khmer Rouge (one-third of Cambodia’s population was exterminated during this period, including everyone in the country who possessed anything above an elementary school education). Only about 15 years ago, with the demise of Pol Pot, was Angkor reopened to the world.

A MAJOR TRAVEL MOMENT
How to describe the experience of Angkor Wat? This is the main event, the single largest religious monument in the world. It translates to “The City That Is A Temple.” A moat about 600 feet wide surrounds a rectangular temple large enough to accommodate three of the Vatican’s St. Peter’s basilicas. When dedicated in the mid-twelfth C., it’s five soaring towers shaped like lotus buds, and 2,000 feet of surrounding bas-relief panels, were gilded to reflect the sunlight. It still looks golden, as we spent the afternoon there into the sunset. This is one of those “ya gotta be there” experiences that rank with the Sphinx and Petra.

GETTING HOME
After another day here tomorrow in Siem Reap, looking over a silk farm and visiting the Killing Fields execution site, we head back to the States. Bangkok airport is just beginning to be freed of its protesters, so we’ve all booked alternative flights via Saigon to Narita Tokyo airport and our original connections to various U.S. cities. I suppose the most enduring memory I’ll take back from this trip is the universal generosity and hospitality extended by all the local folk I’ve had the pleasure to meet. No matter what the political persuasion, everyone has been gracious and welcoming. This is a part of the world that seems genuinely relaxed and easygoing, and I hope I have the opportunity to pay another visit.

For now, the journal is closed.

Busy, Bustling Saigon

Flying into Tan Son Nhat Airport (formerly Airbase) on Thanksgiving Day underlines the ambivalence you experience in Ho Chi Minh City, unofficially and yet still called Saigon. This is the largest population center in Vietnam, with some eight million occupying its sprawling metro area and suburbs. Motorbikes are more prevalent here than in Hanoi, by a large factor; its main thoroughfares exhibit rush hour columns of traffic most of the day and night, with motorbikes often six or eight abreast in each direction. Crossing a downtown street, often without the aid of a traffic light, is a study in blind faith. The immovable object (me) marches forward as the irresistible forces circumvent a collision. No one stops. Even at the occasional traffic light, riders time their deceleration to when they think the light will change, so as to avoid a complete stop.

The city center of Saigon is very much like Paris. A grand opera house, ornate city hall, monuments, statuary, multi-storied buildings with new and seasoned upscale hotels, and many lights that embrace the modern or classically French architecture and flood the fountains and city parks. American brand names join the international companies displaying their wares in attractive downtown shops. Although the name of Ho Chi Minh (“Uncle Ho”) pops up everywhere, this city is as far removed from its communist center as is imaginable. Streets are crowded at all hours into the night, with revelers of all ages, even children. The parks are well lit, vendors are everywhere and capitalistic enterprise is booming.

THE LOCAL PERSPECTIVE
The entire tour group celebrated our Thanksgiving dinner together with a meal that included traditional Pilgrim fare: spring rolls, stuffed sea bass and spicy shrimp over rice. (I’m certain the Pilgrim’s would have preferred this if they could have gotten it.) Earlier in the day, we spent a few hours at what this government calls its “War Remnants Museum.” That’s the post-1995 title, when the government began turning to the west in an effort to emulate its economy and encourage internal enlightenment and tourism. Prior to that, it was called the "American Imperialist War Crimes Museum." I think you can imagine the theme and tone. It is said, quite accurately, that history is written (or rewritten) by the victor. Here, there is no attempt to avoid bias. These people suffered brutally, first under the French and, after 1955, by an alliance led by our country in support of South Vietnam’s position in its civil war. This museum made no excuses, and depicted the horror of home turf warfare in its most graphic form. It was sobering for all of us, including the Vietnam veterans on this tour, and reminds us that in war there are no winners.

WITH THE COEDS
The previous day, we spent several hours on the campus of Dalat University, visiting with English-speaking students. It was an opportunity for them to practice their language skills and for us to ask some pointed questions about life, and career options, in Vietnam. Once again, I was surprised at the extent of free access to information allowed by this government. All the students use the internet for research, and are familiar with the media choices we enjoy in the west. Although fully indoctrinated to the party line (“We love Uncle Ho”), I was aware of none who spouted communist doctrine, or whose parents embraced party membership. All high school kids take a compulsory national exam at the conclusion of their final year, with the highest ranked kids then allowed to continue on to college, if affordable. Public college is only $250 a year; private school $400. But that paltry amount, plus room/board/books, is often unachievable to families whose annual income hovers at $1200 for city workers; far less for the majority of people who live on farms. Also, since girls prepare more efficiently, resulting in higher high school compulsory scores, for the past thirty years colleges in Vietnam have been skewed 2:1 in favor of female attendance. The professor who spent time with us, a Fullbright scholar who studied in the U.S., was candid about challenges facing their educational system and the concerns in academe about the future of education in Vietnam.





HIGH HOPES

Just what makes that little old ant

Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant

Everyone knows an ant, can’t

Move a rubber tree plant.





AN UNDERGROUND CITY FOR THE SKINNY
We took a trip today about 25 miles outside of Saigon to the town of Cu Chi to explore the remarkable network of tunnels built from the 1940’s through 1975, and used by the Viet Cong during the war. It’s an underground complex that runs for about 125 miles throughout the area, and once housed up to 12,000 fighters. We crawled through a few sections of the tunnel system, which must be navigated bent over so that your arms almost reach the floor (a lot easier for the shorter population here). VC mounted nighttime raids from these tunnels, escaping though camouflaged hatches that are unperceivable to the naked eye. The system is so large that it housed a surgical hospital and large meeting rooms and kitchens, functioning much like an underground village, with a portion of the system ironically located beneath a U.S. air base. Gen. Westmoreland was frustrated by his efforts to locate and destroy the complex. The Cu Chi Tunnels is worth looking up in Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cu_Chi_Tunnels .

BANGKOK IS REVOLTING
No, this is not a commentary on that lovely city. But it is a description of the political imbroglio that may prevent me from returning to fly back via the Bangkok airport to Tokyo and home next week. No problem being rerouted from our final stop in Cambodia through some other major airport, like Hong Kong. But what about the custom made suits awaiting final fitting in Bangkok? Hmm … stay tuned.

Next: Mekong Delta and on to Cambodia

On The Road Again

We’re on the move today from the coastal city of Nha Trang to the inland resort of Dalat, so with a few hours to kill on our motorbus I’ve pulled out the laptop for some bouncy observations. South Central Vietnam is gliding by, with the wavy shoreline of the South China Sea on my left and rows of rounded mountains receding into the dreamy distance on my right. I’ve enjoyed the bus portions of this travel, since the group is small in number (15 total), and we can all spread out with room to spare. It’s comfortable, air conditioned, and allows time to appreciate some serious people and water buffalo watching.

IN THE AIR AGAIN
In addition to buses, we’ve also taken a number of commuter air flights on this trip, and flying Vietnam Airlines demonstrates what control a governmental monopoly can exert. Fully packed flights are efficiently loaded and unloaded, and as soon as the last person enters a plane, the doors are shut and we’re off. Must maintain that schedule. Don’t worry about everyone occupying his or her seat or seatbelt. Plenty of time for that during take-off. I don’t think the FAA has much jurisdiction here.

WELCOME AMERICANS
We just drove through yellow blockhouse gates that used to be the entrance to the American installation at Cam Rahn Bay. I remember how significant this area was during the war. Now the gates serve to frame the highway. (Yesterday, while meandering around the shopping streets of Nha Trang, we came across a parked, and well-maintained, green U.S. Army jeep captured or perhaps abandoned at the end of the war.) Throughout our time north of what used to be the Demilitarized Zone, I wondered what, if any, degree of animosity might be exhibited towards us American tourists. Surprisingly, there has been none at all. Quite the opposite. English-speaking Viets in what used to be North Vietnam are eager to converse, learn about America and express pleasure about the results of our recent election. Tourism is still not the major industry for Vietnam, but it will be.

COMMUNISM
Politics in Vietnam is decidedly Communism-Lite. Although freedom of expression and assembly do not exist, there is a strong capitalistic bent to the philosophy of this country, and its people have opportunities unlike anything I expected. This is not North Korea. Although the state-run newspapers deliver highly slanted propaganda and thrilling news updates (“Commerce Commissioner Praises Four-Year Coal Production Projections”), the people can access the internet and are exposed to western news, including CNN. Wolf Blitzer is alive and well in Vietnam. I’ve been able to view the NY Times and Washington Post websites daily. I’m told that some sites are blocked, but I haven’t experienced this. As more development occurs, the people are going to demand more freedom, much like what was experienced in the eastern bloc countries. Case in point: the just-departed Nha Trang is a booming resort town. Our hotel was very upscale; on either side of us construction was underway for new Sheraton and Crowne Plaza high-rise complexes. These waterfront properties remind me of Miami Beach in its early development. Foreign investment from every quarter infuses the economy of Vietnam.

GONE FISHIN’
Yesterday we spent most of the day on the water and within fishing islands near Nha Trang. In addition to motorized launches, we traveled in small, conical boats that look like saucer-baskets. They accommodated two passengers plus two rowers. I was happy to take over the rowing, and can report that most of us made it to our destinations without mishap. Walking the fishing islands was more treacherous. Water from recent rains cascaded down narrow streets, often at ankle-level. Heavily populated, the men live their lives either fishing or preparing nets for the next assault. Children are everywhere, smiling and waving. The women spend their time around the home drawing brackish well water and collected rainwater, when they can get it. It’s a simple existence that seems to satisfy everyone.

NOT WASTING AWAY
I’ll close with some observations about our dining experiences, which have been great. Some favorites: Viet staples, such as veggies sautéed in a garlic sauce (even available for breakfast over fried rice and thin noodles); many varieties of crustaceans served with matching varieties of spicy fish sauce; chicken prepared with pineapple and curry; sweet and sour duck with pear-apple slices; spring rolls with shrimp and tofu; and, different types of light fish battered and served under lemon sauce. Yum. Tonight we had coq au vin at a French restaurant. (The French, you may recall, occupied this country until the mid 1950’s, and built much of this area.) Some of the culinary items available, but rejected, have included: country fried rat; BBQ dog (breed undetermined); boiled chicken embryo and a delectable fruit seen here called a durian, which the Viets advertise as “smells like shit; tastes like heaven.” Someone from Madison Avenue needs to work with these guys.


Next: Into the hills of South Central Vietnam

Over the River and Through the Woods

As we make our way down Hwy 1, a coast highway here much like the coast highway in California, it’s easy to understand why Vietnam is the world’s second largest producer of rice, after Thailand. I never appreciated how labor-intensive it is to grow this crop, which is in such abundance at home. And there are some fifty different types of rice grown here, from among the 40,000 varieties worldwide. All of the landscape appears flooded, with rice crops dominating the scene. They produce seven crops for each farm parcel within a two-year period, and it’s backbreaking work.

TERRAIN
We’re completing two days in Hoi An, after a couple of days in the bustling city of Hue. Our hotel here overlooks the river, and this shot is from my balcony. This is the Vietnam I envisioned, full of jungles and wetlands, and it reminds me of the Vietnam represented in “Apocalypse Now.” Today we explored the ruins at My Son, a sanctuary of the Champa kingdom dating to the 2nd century. This was a Viet culture with a strong Hindu influence. The site is a collection of delicate masonry and red brick ruins, each building tightly constructed using no mortar. This culture fired each building itself, like giant individual kilns, resulting in extremely sturdy and lasting architecture. It was fun to make our way through the jungle passes, despite 100% humidity. This is also an area of the country that saw much action during the war. You can imagine the troops hacking their way through the rain-soaked vegetation and heat for weeks on end. As a stronghold for the Viet Cong, Agent Orange was used to defoliate much of this part of the country, and heavy bombing destroyed some of the major ruins.

THE WAY TO HUE
Our visit to Hue introduced us to the imperial capital of Vietnam during its golden age. The citadel of the city houses a huge area that has been restored within its moat-encircled complex. Here the king, his huge court, many concubines and a retinue of eunuchs and mandarins constituted the high court life of Vietnam. There was a strong influence exerted by China, apparent throughout Vietnam’s version of the Forbidden City. Eleven stone gates guard an enormous area of ornate, visually stunning imperial buildings. It took us half a day to make it through most of the highlights, and the detail in ceramic, mosaic and bronze was amazing. It is said that one of the kings in the Nguyen Dynasty accumulated 300 concubines. In order to satisfy this logistical, if not biological, challenge, he was known to service seven of his ladies each night. High marks for keeping peace in the family, although this probably accounted for a progressive royal limp.

ORDER IN THE RELIGIOUS ORDER
Yesterday, we were treated to a lunch at the Dong Thien Pagoda, a Buddhist nunnery near Hue. The nuns all have shaved heads, much like Buddhist monks, and were thoroughly delightful hosts. Many were in their 20’s or late teens, and some were able to converse in English. The meal was vegetarian, and delicious. Their dedication and devotion were palpable, and they enjoyed sharing information on their religion and ancient customs. Later that day, we visited the Duc Son Pagoda, an orphanage for about 200 kids that is supported by this tour company. We brought small gifts for the children, who were so eager to embrace us and converse in fractured English. They range in age from newborn to teen, and are under the care of another sect of Buddhist nuns. As our visit ended, they all serenaded us with children’s songs. Their lives are tough, but they are considered fortunate to be part of a life-saving enterprise.

MORE OBSERVATIONS
* City traffic may be wall-to-wall bikes, scooters and taxis, but when it comes to country traffic, add agricultural transit to the mix. On the back of pedaled or motorized bikes can be found any number of homegrown products, including live animals. Yesterday, we thought all the caged chickens riding behind a scooter driver were significant, until someone came zooming by escorting a live water buffalo on the back of his bike. Egrets are a particularly tasty treat, as this charming vendor demonstrates. They’re much more savory when served plucked, but what isn’t?

* Turnabout is fair play, as we later witnessed a young girl riding a water buffalo down the road. No great surprise here, until it was clear that she was riding the animal while standing barefoot on its back.

* The Perfume River wends its way through the city of Hue. It’s so named because it carries the distinctly pleasant aroma of cinnamon, which is farmed just upriver.

* Cinnamon is also one of many aromas available in incense. A couple of days ago, we stopped at a roadside market, and there was a five-year-old rolling incense sticks. She’s been proficient since she was four, and produces about a dozen flawless products in about a minute.

* Last night we took a cooking class on how to prepare an elegant Vietnamese dinner, which we then, rather bravely, served to ourselves. Spring rolls (not as easy to assemble as it looks) and fresh tuna steak baked in banana leaves were the highlights.

* Tonight we had a free evening, and our group of seven friends enjoyed a luxurious dinner at a resort in Hoi An. Rain poured in vertical sheets for about five minutes every half hour, as colored lanterns lit by small candles drifted down the Thu Bon River near our table.

Tomorrow, we move on with a flight from Danang to Nha Trang and Cam Ranh Bay, as we continue through central Vietnam.

Initial Thoughts on Vietnam

After almost a week in northern Vietnam, my impressions of this country are different from what I anticipated. Here’s a land still laboring under a yoke of communism, yet capitalism thrives more vibrantly than in many former east-bloc European countries. A walk through a downtown shopping mall in Hanoi features choices from most of the same big name, high-end fashion designers you find in Paris or Berlin. American brands also compete for the Vietnam Dong, and shops and department stores don’t lack for customers. Clearly, most are international tourists, but it’s also obvious that the ying/yang of capitalism/communism coexists under new definitions here.

Culturally, the people couldn’t be more pleasant and welcoming. Smiles and laughter are everywhere, and service is always tempered by Asian formalities that reinforce courtesy and hospitality. Here are some quick perceptions:

WELCOME TO MY HOUSE
Our tour group of 15 was divided into two bodies as we went to different private homes for a home-cooked dinner and conversation. As there are seven of us who are previous travel buddies, we enjoyed dinner together with a middle class couple and their married daughter. Our hosts knew no English (except “Thank you very much!”), but their daughter, a charming young woman of 27 who was educated in London, translated. The meal, of course, was marvelous not only in its delicate cuisine, but in the fact that the wife prepared this feast in a kitchen most of us would consider a functional closet. Their home, a narrow three-story structure embedded within the alleys and narrow streets of Hanoi, was beautifully appointed with dark teak furniture. That décor satisfied not only the living room, but also their bedrooms. No cushions, mattresses or pillows; all dark hardwood elaborately carved. Consider spending the night lying flat on that appealing, if somewhat painful, bedroom furniture. The husband was a retired teacher, but I got the impression from what was not said that he was involved with governmental hierarchy in the recent past and probably during “The American War.” One particularly charming moment occurred when we had our after-dinner tea in their living room area. All of us brought small gifts from the U.S., which we hoped would represent something about ourselves. I presented a copy of the Pacific Heights “Sentimental Journey” CD. When the wife realized what it was, and recognized my photos in the liner notes, she giggled and clapped her hands with glee. Four-part a cappella harmony is alive and well in Vietnam.

AFLOAT IN DREAMLAND
We spent two days and an overnight on a junk cruise in Halong Bay. This area is part of the Gulf of Tonkin, about two hours east of Hanoi. Picture thousands of velvety-green mountain islands poking out of a misty haze, their jagged profiles seeming to pop out of nowhere. The landscape is lush and ethereal, with the added charm of deep mountain caverns that we also explored. Ever-present were hundreds of Vietnamese fishermen, navigating their fishing boat-home sampans. Occasionally a dock/market would present itself, where in partitioned wooden sectors different species of fish, crab and lobster would be displayed. Here, shoppers from other boats simply dip their nets into a subdivision, extract the live swimmer of choice, place it all in a plastic bag and just row away. Our meals, of course, were prepared and served on our junk. No question that the seafood was fresh.

THOUGHTS ON THIS AND THAT
* Paved roads are well kept in the cities; not so in the countryside, where potholes assume a significance all their own. They dominate the landscape, and country folk refer to them as “elephant nests.” It reminded me of the speed bumps in Tanzania, which the natives call “sleeping policemen.”

* A W.C. is called a “Happy House,” although truth be told some of them could best be called a “Happy Hole.” Happily for me, most of our experiences have been with westernized flush toilets. I’m not only happy, but also cheerful.

* Rice paddies form quilt-like patterns throughout the country. In this part of Vietnam, there are a lot of lowland areas, hence much flooding, which is good for the rice farmer and the fisherman. One popular fishing tool is the electric rod, which simply zaps the life out of the fish. The trick is to not inadvertently zap the life out of the fisherman. You know how this works: water … electricity …

* As mentioned previously, scooters and buses crowd the roads. Our bus driver and driver’s assistant operate an up-to-date, fully insured vehicle. Commuter buses, however, each operate with two drivers, plus three on-hand mechanics. Buses are so old that it could take many hours to complete a routine journey due to breakdowns. The mechanics are part of the program, handling maintenance logistics and inevitable downtime. It comes with the territory.

* In Japan, many subway commuters would don medical facemasks so as not to spread any illness they may be experiencing. It’s considered good manners, and is seen quite often. In Vietnam, the women riding their motor scooters all wear facemasks, but not to curb contagion. Here, a light complexion is considered the most beautiful, and women therefore try to keep as much of their face out of the sun as possible. I will say, however, that this program seems to work, for the women here are singularly beautiful to behold.

Next: Hue, Emperors and Eunuchs

Into Hanoi

A quick flight from Bangkok took us to a rather modern airport that services the capital of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. Hanoi is all activity. Crowded shops specializing in every imaginable ware overflow onto narrow sidewalks. Wherever you look, people are in motion. Nowhere is this more apparent that in the roads themselves, where honking taxis compete for space with honking scooters, bell-ringing bicycles and cyclo-rickshaws. It’s shoulder-to-shoulder driving, with no one owning the right of way, least of all pedestrians. With few traffic lights and fewer crosswalks, one traverses a busy thoroughfare by simply charging forward, making no eye contact with those in motorized vehicles. Traffic flows around you as if you were a moving island. Somehow pedestrians seem to make it to the other side relatively unscathed. On our trip from the airport to our hotel, the van arrived at a roundabout fed by traffic from four directions. Suddenly, everything froze. Since no one owns the right of way, no driver would yield. People actually left their suddenly “parked” cars to debate the best resolution, while hundreds of cars and scooters continued to form long lines of gridlock down each of the four avenues. Eventually, a policeman arrived, exerted some communist authority, and we were on our way, shaking heads in amazement.

A RICKSHAW TO HO
No elephants to be had here, but a cyclo-rickshaw was my means of conveyance to tour the French Quarter of Hanoi. These are solo-occupancy vehicles, propelled by a friendly peddler with strong leg muscles. No problem navigating the miasma of traffic, but after an hour of inhaling exhaust fumes, I was ready to wend my way forward on foot. We found our path to Ho Chi Minh Square, where the towering mausoleum to Vietnam’s late president resides. It looks exactly like Lenin’s mausoleum in Red Square and Mao’s mausoleum in Beijing. It is said that one additional monumental communist leader will have a copycat structure in Havana, when his time comes.


WET PUPPETS
Last night we partook in a traditional Vietnamese art form, Water Puppet Theater. Colorful marionettes cavorting in a water tank, and controlled from behind an upstage curtain by puppeteers in waist-high water, depict all the action. On one side of the stage is a live combo of various drums, string instruments and vocalists. Of course, it was all Greek to me, but each vignette told its own special story, to the delight of the audience. You kind of had to be there and, like Kabuki, one hour was sufficient.

LAKE MCCAIN AND THE HANOI HILTON
An interesting concrete monument commemorates the site where John McCain’s broken body was fished from a downtown lake the natives call Lake McCain. The monument, about 30 years old, mentions McCain by name, albeit in Vietnamese, and cites the heroism of those who saved the life of this enemy aggressor. (McCain was famous at the time of his capture because his father was then chief of naval operations for the war.) The Vietnam War is known here as The American War, for obvious reasons, and historical perspectives are similarly skewed. A visit to the Hanoi Hilton, the Hoa Lo prison complex where McCain and many other American flyers were incarcerated and tortured, was sobering. I can’t imagine how any of those brave individuals survived their ordeal, injuries notwithstanding.

SHOP TILL YOU DROP
Today, three of us decided to forego a scheduled tour into the countryside, and explore Hanoi on our own. We walked (and walked) for about six miles through the circuitous, heavily commercialized and oddly labeled streets of the Old Quarter and ended up at the Dong Xuan Market, the oldest and largest covered market in this part of the country. Vending stalls go on as far as the nearsighted can perceive, selling everything from meat and fish to household goods and an enormous array of clothing. Bargaining for a final price can be fun, particularly when you realize that 50,000 Vietnamese Dong computes to about $3. So spending hundreds of thousands of a currency can inflate one’s shopping ego, until you compute the real damage, which is like Monopoly money. I can easily afford a hotel on Park Place and a few houses on Boardwalk. Several times during this trip, both here and in Thailand, vendors would ask from whence I originate, and when learning of my nationality, raise a thumbs-up sign and shout “O-bam-AH!” Gotta love the enthusiasm. We lunched at a Vietnamese/French restaurant that was outstanding; I enjoyed tiger prawns in a pineapple sauce and sliced pork under a five-spice concoction. (Vietnam is Traif-Central.) I’ve really had a good time with the food thus far. Everything is fresh and savory. Tonight we all dine at private Vietnamese homes. I look forward to the cuisine and the political conversation by our communist hosts.

Land of “The King and I”

Here we are concluding a whirlwind three days in Bangkok. All the images I projected of elegant Thailand, principally perceptions from stage and screen, have been realized: the colors, the masses, the sounds, the aromas and, of course, the food. Once again, hospitality has been a highlight. Here a few others:

EATS
Did I mention the food? The cuisine is spicy and savory. Favorites include the large varieties of seafood (mostly fried), delectable veggies in oyster sauce and tons of stir-fried delicacies. Our group, which now numbers nine, has hit some terrific eateries, most of which offer local fare. Our tour guide has been helpful in introducing many of the goodies and happily most menus are available in English, which heightens our expectation and lowers the fear factor. Extreme cuisine, such as pickled cobra and smoked rat (no kidding), has been eschewed. I’m adventuresome, but not fool-hearty.


A WEEK TO BE IN BANGKOK
On the full moon of this particular month in the local calendar, residents of the kingdom celebrate a tradition called Loi Krathong. Everyone purchases circular floral arrangements that fit on top of slices of banana tree trunk. At the center are tall candles. This display is brought to the river or a canal (there are many in this city), and allowed to drift toward the sea. Picture thousands of these things flowing down the waterways, or sometimes aloft on balloons. The purpose is to let bad luck drift away, while also honoring one of the Buddhist deities. As it happens, another significant event is also occurring this week: the cremation of the king’s elder sister, a woman who passed away in February, and has been lying in state since. It takes that long for everyone in the kingdom to pay his respects. Today begins four days of mourning, with the cremation tomorrow. Then her ashes are placed in a gold urn and floated to the sea. (Lots of sea floating in this kingdom.) Consequently, the entire city of Bangkok has been decorated florally for this royal occasion (orchids are particularly popular), with huge billboard-sized photos of the princess on display in various stages of her 85 years.


GETTING AROUND
There are 12 million people in Bangkok, and most of them seem to be behind the wheel at the same time. They also drive on the wrong side of the road (from my perspective). Added to the funeral activities, and you’ve got Siamese Gridlock.


SIGHTS AND SOUNDS
In the past three days we’ve been to many Buddhist temple complexes, and viewed a number of multi-ton Buddha golden statues. My favorite is the Reclining Buddha at Wat Po. The king’s Grand Palace was just as advertised, with huge, spectacular buildings, gilded spires and crenellated walls. The blackboard that Anna used to teach all those Siamese kids is still on display, although the subjects of this kingdom have never been exposed to “The King and I” in any form, as any frivolous depiction of the king is strictly forbidden. In fact, the populace seriously venerates the monarch and his queen, even though the status of the royal family is solely as a figurehead today. The architectural influences in this city are not only Thai, but also Chinese and Cambodian. We did a tour of the extremely large Chinatown area, and noticed how orderly they maintain the chaos of thousands of shoppers. Although vendors sell their wares bazaar-fashioned in the open air, we agreed how clean everything was; food was exposed, but there wasn’t a fly in sight. How very different this was from the bazaars in the Middle East.



THE OLD HOMESTEAD AND TODAY’S SUMMER HOME
Before Bangkok was established as Siam’s capital in the late 18th Century, the king ruled from the city of Ayutthaya, about an hour and half out of Bangkok. The King of Siam was an absolute monarch, treated like a god (picture Yul Brynner’s attitude). Following an invasion by Burma, the capital fell to such disrepair that to be realized it had to be archaeologically excavated. So the buildings in this ancient city are not unlike Roman ruins, with most structures barely supporting their brick underpinnings. But the scope of its past grandeur is unchallenged. Conical burial monuments of brick remain, and reach to the sky. One can only imagine what these stunning buildings looked like before their corroded state. On the way to Ayutthaya, we stopped at the summer residence of the current King of Thailand (Siam became Thailand after WWII). I can report that the other half lives rather well.

OTHER ADVENTURES
When in Thailand, one is compelled to experience a deep-tissue massage, which is what we all did yesterday. After two hours of kneading, pounding, flexing and having this body walked over, I was ready to announce how much better I felt, whether true or not. Actually, it was very relaxing, even if I did feel like a chicken’s wishbone. The last few days have also seen us experience a variety of Thai transport media on land and sea, including elephant. Not as comfy as a camel, but the creature’s trunk was versatile enough to accept the mahout’s tip (and could probably compute the change if asked).

Time to pack for the next jaunt: a flight to Hanoi in the morning.

Sayonara To Tokyo

Three days of breezing around Tokyo have passed too quickly.  This is one terrific city, rivaling New York in its cosmopolitan, very upscale atmosphere.  It's very Times Square, with blazing colors and whirling activity, but everything is so clean and polite.  The populace is cheerful, if driven.  Work ethic is many notches above what we consider tolerable.  The folk seem to be focused, but courteous to the extreme.  On more that one occasion, someone came up to me on the street unsolicited, with an offer to help this tourist locate my destination.  Often the man or woman would not speak my language very well, but was most interested in communicating assistance to my satisfaction.  And each encounter would be finalized with a traditional deep bow.  Very different from other parts of the globe!

A FISH STORY

One memorable experience was a very early morning visit to the Tsukiji Fish Market.  It's said to be the largest in the world, and I won't debate it.  We walked endlessly through the wholesale and retail hangers of this vast emporium, and finally just gave up trying to see it all.  Thousands of merchants ply their very fresh wares, some in auction, most selling directly to eager buyers (who also number in the thousands).  Watching clever handlers slice thin layers of solidly frozen tuna, with large hatchets, was something to behold.  Had to have a fish lunch after that; we knew it was probably fresh.

VERY ANGRY THEATER

Kabuki has been a tradition for countless generations.  But to sit through several hours of heavy drama in an extremely foreign language, replete with many guttural grunts by the men playing men, squealing entreaties by the men playing women and the constant drone of a three string instrument requires much dedication.  Wisely, the marketers of this tradition offer one-hour slices of Kabuki, where the entire balcony can attend for just one of its many acts, thereby getting the flavor but not the indigestion.  I loved it.  Highly stylized and oddly moving, despite my total incomprehension of its dialogue.

REAL TEMPURA

Last night's dinner was a feast.  We spent the entire evening at a tiny traditional restaurant that served only tempura, offered by one chef at the center of a very small room.  There must have been about a dozen small courses, each one exceeding the previous one in delicacy and taste.  I'll probably never experience anything fried so lightly or deliciously.  And, of course, spending the evening trying to communicate properly, and follow the customs required by restaurant patrons, was amusing and fun.

ENJOY THE CRUSH

A final word, before I rush on board my flight to Bangkok.  The subway in Tokyo is remarkably efficient, incredibly clean and, in rush hour, amazingly tight.  This is a photo of the actual protocol by subway attendants as we boarded a train this morning.  Final boarders are helped into the car by the sardine police, who literally push the mob into the doors.  Many new friends were immediately made.  I think I may be engaged.

Next stop: Thailand

Time Travel

I’m not entirely sure what time it is, or for that matter what day it is.  Yesterday, or rather two days ago if you believe in the International Date Line, I boarded a big bird from San Francisco to Tokyo and commenced a twelve-hour trip that chased the sun across the Pacific.  After 24 hours of sunlight, my body finally conceded that sleep was an imperative.  My brain, however, continues to try to reason with being 19 hours ahead of myself in a day known colloquially as tomorrow.

 

HOW TO KILL TWELVE HOURS

The flight moved along nicely, given the diversion of two feature films, one symphony, two crosswords, two meals (“vegan,” in honor my lactose intolerance, is a word derived from the Latin root meaning “tasteless concoction, in a bowl”), one book and lots of conversation with the guy sitting next to me, who hails from a provincial town called Monte Sereno, California.  Having no familiarity with any of my hyperactive family members who also reside in that locale, his credibility was limited.  But, as a frequent traveler to Bangkok, he did provide me with the name of the preferred establishment for custom-made business suits and shirts in that city.  If only I weren’t retired.  (What am I saying?!?  Bite my tongue; a neuron must have slipped its synapse due to jet lag.)

 

A GRAND PRINCE

At Narita Airport in Tokyo, I met my friends Kay and Ken Drews, from Reston, Virginia, who were fellow travelers in the Serengeti and Egypt trips.  We’ll be here in Tokyo for three nights, and then join four other friends from previous trips for the next leg to Bangkok.  There, we’ll begin our month of travel, comprising half of the touring group.  Kay wisely did some internet homework, and arranged for accommodations here at the Grand Prince Akasaka at a great discount.  This is a stunning five-star hotel that towers over Central Tokyo, and makes a listing in most of the tour books for its architectural originality.  Its lower levels meet in a convergence of marble and glass that serves as a reception area, teeming with smiling guest relations folk in matching red tailored jackets, none of whom seem to be over 25.  There are 10 restaurants (no kidding), including an observation deck.  I mention these mundane details to introduce a word regarding dining in any of the downtown hotel restaurants in Tokyo.  Don’t.  A hamburger runs about $35; the breakfast buffet $50.  It moves up from there.  But we have located a number of terrific restaurants off-campus that have an atmosphere of authenticity, great food and don’t necessarily require a second mortgage.

GUIDEBOOK IN HAND

Today we did some light sightseeing, beginning with a half-day guided tour of some of the city’s highlights.  We started at the Imperial Palace, a nice 250-acre estate that serves its two occupants handily.  We knocked at the moat, but the Emperor probably wasn’t at home.  We particularly enjoyed a view of the city from atop one of the newer skyscrapers on Roppongi Hill, and got the opportunity to appreciate the splendor of Tokyo Bay and the expanse of this sprawling collection of architecture, most constructed during the past 60 years. 

The other highlight was a tour of the Asakusa Kannon Temple, a large Buddhist shrine complex begun in 628.  My smiling face is seen through a haze of incense, blocking one of its magnificent buildings.  Later, we shopped through the Ginza section of town, crowded with upscale department stores and thousands of Sunday customers, and braved Tokyo’s tangle of a subway system.

Tomorrow: some of the parks, a museum or two and perhaps some Kabuki.  And just in case I don’t get another chance to get online before my Nov. 11 flight to Bangkok, here’s a toast to my darling sister and brother-in-law, Arl and Stu, on the occasion of their 35^th anniversary.  Some may have said it wouldn’t last, but I think them wrong!

Route of Planned Trip

Bangkok • Hanoi • Halong Bay • Hué • Hoi An • Nha Trang • Dalat • Ho Chi Minh City • Angkor Wat
November 7 - December 4



This journey takes me through parts of Southeast Asia: three days in Bangkok, 19 in Vietnam, and three in Angkor Wat and environs of Cambodia. I'll start the trip with four days in Tokyo, to break up the travel a bit and explore my aversion to raw fish. Stay tuned.