Pho, Swastikis, and Other Photos: Southeast Vietam Coast.

One of our daily Vietnamese coffee happinesses. The coffee is served as its working its way through a mini filter; the white at the bottom is the sweetened condensed milk. Mix and pour into the waiting ice.

Bicycle in Paradise.

A very classic (cheap) breakfast here. We sit ourselves behind the little stall of dishes and hope for the best. Lady Elise had gestured that we'd like soup, and this is the soup Mrs. Stall brought us.

The charming and wonderful dragon-fruits.

Pho bo! Noodle soup with beef. The most ubiquitous dish here, available for all three meals. The highpoint of eating this is planting it full of the fresh herbs (basil, culantro, mint, unidentified things...) on the table.

Arnica Montana, all happy and pillowy, growing here as a ground cover. (for Linda-Mom)

After a number of days in small towns, with little more than a Dusty Things Store, shopping for snacks at a SUPER MARKET (with lighting so you can see what you're buying, organization, and prices listed) was indeed a pleasure. And to think grocery stores had once been completely taken for granted.....

Along the ocean in the wind; it's amazing there's anything left of those flags at all.

Graveyard Swastikis! How truly weird. In addition to being adopted and nullified by the Nazis, swastikis are also a symbol of Ausperity in Asian cultures.

A replishing road-side stop for cold coconut water and green tea. The hair-style of this tree, combined with this ubiquitous red furniture, is a very classic moment here.

Heavy Sweating People

 Today our riding was almost surreal; the day came in two distinct pieces.


The first piece was a morning ride by the ocean, the winds refreshing but not a deterrent, more bright bougainvillea flowering, stretching sands to admire: the choir was singing that old-time favorite, "Bicycle In Paradise." 
See those looming red hulks dotted in green in the distance? Those are the sandy hills....




Our road led us up away from the ocean, and into this extraordinarily barren, strange land of sand:

Red sandy soil, wizened scrubby plants, viscious wind, blasting heat. We were in Arizona; we were in the Australian outback; we were in sub-saharan Africa.

This was the most desolated 20 kilometers I've ever bicycled in my life. Here, in Vietnam, the 14th most populated country! The wind ripped and whipped us, due to the lack of trees, so strong that some unidentified component on my bicycle was whistling.

We climbed a steady, yet unsatisfyingly imperceptable hill, for approximately 7 weeks through this eerie land. Maybe all of one motorbike passed us; just the scrubby trees and the wind and the baking sun. Keeping to even 13 kph was a struggle and I was becoming stoic and single-minded, sweat dripping from both eyebrows at regular intervals. We pulled over in a rare piece of shade under a rare tree for a break and, out of curiosity, I stood on the road in the sun holding our Always-Check-A-Fever-Because-Just-In-Case Thermometer.

It read 33.6. Which is 92 degrees F. Wowh.

I opened one of my saved electrolyte packets from Thailand.

The packet said: "Suitable for the whole family during your good time such as playing sports. Plcnic, travelling, and heavy sweating people."

I was certainly a Heavy Sweating Person.

Then we eventually, amazingly, reached the top of this hill and taxied and launched and flew down the other side, the view spread out like a picnic (er, Plcnic), the wind and speed refreshing. I hit 57 kph on this descent, probably thanks in part to the weighty (and mystically powered) dragonfruit I was lugging. At the end we were delivered, with little introduction, into a bustling town. What a contrast to be among such human activity after desolation.

And so there we ate Pho.

Russians in Bikinis

Ripping ocean breeze, buffeted water, long stretch of sand. We are in the coastal town of Phan Thiet today!

There are Russians in bikinis here. And the Vietnamese swim in all their clothes. The Russians have considerably more surface area, though, and for some of them it comes in impressive folds.

****************

Today was one of those rides that elicited from us grateful cries of "wowh!" and exclamations of "this is why we're doing this!" We had country roads, decent pavement surfaces, few trucks, and coastal views. This celebrated riding, after Cambodia with barreling honking trucks, coughing dust, and stagnant air. Here the air is all fresh and breezy.

Quite breezy. Windy, in fact. We are biking into the nostrils of the wind beast and this is very tiring, especially an ocean wind of power. Pedaling into wind is so wasteful; you work extra hard but don't go any farther. But the wind is the only complaint: really, Lay-DEE Elise and I are delighted to be here.

Bicycling in Vietnam? What is this like? What do we see?

We began this morning pedaling out of town, stopping at the little market spilling into the road. I bought a bunch of miniature bananas (about 40 cents) from a display on a cloth on the pavement. Even this short transaction drew a crowd of market women who apparently thought I was just hilarious; they laughed as I refused a plastic bag for the bananas (gah there's enough plastic around here already) and giggled while I fumbled through a wad of dong to draw out 8,000.

(I've seen dong come in notes as small as 500 and as big as 500,000. So yeah, I can bust out of ATMs now, loaded with half a million. Ha. Although keeping track of the number of zeros sends me for a ride: I recently handed over 300,000 when I was buying snacks for 30,000. But dear observant Elise caught this and saved my zeros.)

In the morning we pass small school children in uniforms (red neck ties all Socialist) bicycling, wearing colorful cartoon-painted backpacks. We ourselves were passed by buses traveling between towns. Local buses did not exist in Cambodia (too hard to keep organized and on time, and nobody was riding them), so it's refreshing to see them here. In the bright morning light a man walked a large contented cow with a shoulder hump out into a field. A few sharp mountain peaks stood in the distance. Men sat in groups at road-side cafes, sitting in those ever-present red plastic chairs, smoking and drinking coffee.

In fact, it seems like most of the establishments we pass are coffee shops. In Thailand, restaurants were ubiquitous and effortless to find, but in Vietnam it seems like nobody eats, instead just caffeinating and smoking. We have to really concentrate to find a proper restaurant, if we wanted something other than Pho or Banh Mi stalls. (Pho = beef soup with fresh herbs, Banh Mi = baguette sandwich with egg or pate and soy sauce and fresh vegetables).

Mid-morning we bicycle ourselves into Dragon-fruit Land. What a sight! Dragon-fruit has the happy distinction of being a large fleshy tropical fish; the things are bright pink with green-tipped "fins." When cut in half, inside is white flesh with small dark seeds. They taste like watermelon with a buttery texture and a hint of banana-floral. Amazing. The plants that grow them are also a hoot: they are a cactus, but look like they have dreadlocks. Remarkable plants and fruit stretched for kilometer after kilometer. We stopped at an enticing pyramid display and bought four to relish.

And then we rattled down a little side road where fishing boats--red Vietnam flag flapping from the masts--congregated in the seas. Smaller boats, perfectly circular--like a floating soup bowl--were paddled adeptly (how to paddle a boat without an obvious bow!?) by browned men. Elise and I sat on the sand, eating a Dragon-fruit, admiring the chiseled rocks, the teal waters, the fishing boats. "It's these moments where you absolutely feel like you're in National Geographic," observed Elise.

Back at pedaling, we pass platforms all covered in shiny fish bodies, drying in the sun. Bougainvillea plants were so roaringly pink and growing enthusiastically, there were like a firework frozen in mid-air. Exquisitely tended resorts lined the beaches, with names like Peaceful Resort and Ocean Dunes; on my budget I would not ever stay in one, but they were certainly gorgeous to admire.

I've really been enjoying how tended things are in Vietnam. Elise and I gaped when we saw a small boy stop and get off his bicycle when he dropped a piece of trash. Granted, that doesn't mean this place is spotless: by no means comparing with the USA, but it is spotless compared with Cambodia.

We pedaled and gazed contentedly at the sea and were cooled by the wind. Dreamy, dreamy riding. A bicycle in paradise. 

On Lighting, plastic and fire-safe.

(Hello from the coastal town of La Gi, after a 100 k ride today!

The internet connection is slow as a slug and I have some logistical research I need to do; but I shall write a short thing anyway.)

You know how in the USA we have those plastic candles with little lightbulbs in them, rather than real flames, sometimes used to decorate around Christmas or in old houses trying to be quaint? 

Well, I'm sitting here in a grungy internet cafe in the small Vietnamese town of La Gi, and there is a shrine on the wall to--I'm assuming--the ancestors of the proprietor's, or maybe a great national leader. And there are those similar little glowing lightbulbs.

At the ends of plastic sticks of incense.
Only in Southeast Asia.

"Wow" Must Be Fun to Say: Day 1 riding in Vietnam

"Wow" I said. I was indeed happy to have found a jug of filtered water to fill up with. It was at the side of a vender of white buns and a group of smiling men lazed about it. They were quite interested in us foreign bicyclers; "wowh" they repeated after me. While I eagerly filled my water bottle, Mr. Bun handed Lady Elise and I two bags of the soft little things. "Wow!" I said again.

"Wowh" they all repeated, laughing all pleased amongst themselves.

We handed Mr. Bun money for the water and buns but he refused. Oh, so involuntary, there I go: "wow!", I said a third time. "Wowh!" they all went again.

"Wow" must be fun to say. Those good old "w" sounds. Mr. Bun then added, "Vietnam goooood" all smiles. I pedaled away laughing and tingling from generosity and human interactions.

(this helps assuage the unhappy finding that someone stole the collapsible tire pump from my bicycle--bummer)

Today was our first day riding in Vietnam! We pedaled out of the city of Saigon, in the lahar of buzzing motorbikes, my personal space shrunken and quivering. "Map check!" we'd call back and forth to each other, lost in the seething mass of 4-lane roads, huge bridges, impassable traffic, and pull over for a breather and to find out that we couldn't tell where we were. We wanted out of this noisy busy expensive city.

The sun was a papaya-colored orb and we headed due east towards her; my whole being unclenched markedly once we found ourselves on the map (Nuoc Duy and Nghu Nai or some such--recognizing and remembering road names I struggle so much with!) and Were Going The Correct Direction.

We rode through a marshy area, full of wide roads and industry. The cars had a lane and the motor bikes (and us) had a little lane, divided off all separately with a cement thingy. We rode a ferry for 1000 (about 5 cents) to cross a large river. Vats of steaming pho (my inaugural pho for this trip) were our breakfast for a dollar each: we chop-sticked fresh herbs into the bottoms of the steaming bowls, assuaging ourselves this would sanitize the greens just in case. Fleshy rice noodles, bits of chewy beef, flecks of green onions and lemon grass, and little oilspills of chili oil. I was hungry and it was perfect.

Passing through a town, markets spilling onto the roads. Flowers decorated the spaces outside people's homes, and the medians of highways were pink with bougainvillea. All this tending was such a change from Cambodia all was trash and empty dirt.

Also we went probably a whole 2 hours without being honked at. Sing alleluia amen!

Then, inexplicably, the population thinned out and we found ourselves ensconced on an extraordinarily wide road, smoothly paved and delicious for our tires. Completely alone. It was almost eerie. We couldn't find ourselves on the map but we bicycled east, not even that concerned we were "lost", but instead relishing the space and the peace and the trees. What a remarkable contrast from this mornings claustrophobic riding experience.

Our expansive road then came to a dead end. Just like that. I had no idea what this road was for, all smooth and delicious. Were they planning some huge development project? A support road for a certain agricultural harvest season? We turned down a red dirt track to uncoil ourselves from this dead end, threaded through a path in a field of cassava, and voila! Back on pavement. Pavement with a cafe.

So Vietnamese coffee, percolated fresh on our little plastic red table, mixed with sweetened condensed milk, and over ice. Not that this pleasure could be heightened even more, except that I drunk it under a thatched shade roof, in a hammock.

A hammock.

All in all, about 90 kilometers today, glorying in the good pavement and spacious country riding. "Dreamy!" Lay-DEE Elise kept exclaiming, and I sang out "la!" in complete agreement. We end tonight in the small town of Cam My, continuing tomorrow east to the coast!

Wowh!

What a cake and other photos

Sunrise at Angkor Wat, the largest Hindu temple in the world (now Buddhist though). The moat around the temple I found absolutely enchanting.

This is that road from Battambang to Siem Reap that we avoided bicycling. The lack of, ahem, reasonable shoulders being one of the problems.

A "fish massage." Insert feet into tank of hungry fish, and they nibble the dead skin off your feet for you. I screeched and scriggled like a little child; absolutely ticklish and totally wonderful.

Once in Saigon, enamored with the tended plantings and green space, I gave my bicycle a little shower in one of the watering devices. Lay-DEE Elise caught my facial expression right in the midst of an ill-aimed spray....haha.

Durian for sale! A fruit the size of a small suitcase, it smells to some like stinky feet drizzled with sugar syrup. It is cut up into those golden palm-sized nuggets. High in energy and "good for you", I ate a few pieces but quickly reached my quota. 

Our bicycles parked right now, in our Saigon hotel. Observe the shoe rack (for removal before walking through the hotel) and the world map!

Just a sprinkle of Saigon's motorbicyclers and the chic high-rises. Haven't seen tall buildings in some time! I kept staring at them.

Hammock on wheels.

French bakery in Saigon. Woooo woo! I told you this city was schmancy.

Snacks & Hammocks: Welcome to Vietnam

Today we bid goodbye, Cambodia:

I was not sad to leave the dust and ever-present trash.

And said, Hello Saigon City, Vietnam:

This trash receptacle delighted me to the utmost, because a) it illustrates that trash receptacles EXIST in Vietnam, and b) someone took the time and energy to design this one to be especially pleasing. 

 

The beginning of this day and the end of this day have been incorrigibly noisy. Lay-DEE Elise and I woke this morning in the dusty hot city of Phnom Penh to the celebratory sounds of a wedding next door. At 5am. A wedding. Weddings in Cambodia are multi-day affairs set up under frilly pink tents with the women in their sparkly best and disconcertingly thick make-up, with music resounding across the streets. Guests come not for the ceremony (involving sundry rituals like holding swords and tying strings) but in-and-out for the next few days, mostly to eat and leave.

After our festive awakening, we rolled ourselves through the wet piles of anonymous trash in the market and found our bus, which would heft us through the unnecessary intensity of city riding and into the Vietnam city of Saigon. This bus was an "express luxury bus" and left only 12 minutes late, included a decidedly pleasant lack of endless spitting and smoking by the Bus Men, and provided us with little moist towelettes and a box each of baked goods. Simple happy pleasures.

Leaving Phnom Penh, we passed the Raksmay Drink Shop and Wall Paper Decoration (odd business combination, la?), the Do Do Internet, and the Willi Shop. On the 6 hour ride I read my guidebook about Vietnam History: the Le dynasty, the Tran dynasty, and then the Yawn, Dose, and Sleep dynasties. Then, reading about the American War in Vietnam I was appalled, saddened....and also amazed that I, as an American, could even come to Vietnam now, considering the horrors the US ravaged there. And everyone I've met so far, in this first day, has asked with curiosity where I'm from and then were all totally friendly.

Yes here we are, in Vietnam, in the city of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), the biggest city in southern Vietnam. And Lay-DEE Elise and I are wide-eyed, screeing, sighing happily, and pointing like small children. There are plantings here, in the margins of the roads: coiffed flowering trees, mowed greens. That people would take the time, the energy and resources, and organize themselves to create some beauty makes me feel more refreshed and lightened than I ever thought I could feel from something so simple. But after Cambodia, oh my: the contrast is astonishing. This city is inviting, chic, tidy. We passed through a market and I remarked to Elise, "let's just celebrate we're not walking through wads of trash right now." 

It is clean here, even in this sprawling traffic-choked city. Contrast this with Bangkok, similarly huge in Thailand, which was shrouded under visible smog. I stood outside the bus, like seeing color TV after black-and-white, and just looked at the air and sunlight. The whole lot was crisp. If I, for some inexplicable reason, began missing Cambodia, I could stand behind a bus exhaust pipe and feel back there again. Air cannot seem crisp until you've seen it dull and thick.

Our bus ride continued through the Mekong River Delta, a river as important as the Nile in southeast Asia. 55 million people make their livelihoods from her. Rice glowed green here; convincing me 'might still glow in the dark. In Vietnam the rice fields were cultivated with tractors, not bullocks.

The border crossing was uneventful, although we did have to put all our luggage through a scanner in the customs building. Although Mr. Scanner didn't even seem to be paying attention to his machine. The Welcome to Vietnam sign of fading paint and half-covered by exuberant vines confirmed we were done and gone from Cambodia. More promising than the Welcome Sign was driving past the legions of snack stands set up next to hammocks strung under roofs. Hammocks instead of chairs! I can't wait to tire myself from bicycling and avail myself of these.

..............

And the end of this day as I said was also noisy: I sit near the front desk of our hotel in Saigon writing this. Across the street is a blasting dark club; when the hotel door opens the music from the club floods in a deafening wave. This city is pulsating with blinking lights, pumping music, schmancy shopping, people dressed intimidatingly sharp, and palm-dripping traffic.

This also is in contrast to the city we just left, the capitol of Cambodia, with dusty people wearing pajamas tiredly pedaling creaking bicycles. There was, of course, commerce and growth and cell-phone billboards happening in Phnom Penh too, but not at all to this extent. I'm in Saigon, Vietnam but this could be Toronto. Except for all the motor bikes.

Swarms of them. Like wasps. Buzzing, diving, zooming. As a bicycler on these city roads I am at an absolute minority. Motor bikes zoom at me from the left, right, straight forwards wrong way in the lane. You cannot wait for a space in them to cross a street or turn left. You'd wait forever. They take up 3 lanes of traffic on the big roads. All you can do is take a deep breath and willingly release yourself into the swarm. The trick is to go steadily so the buggers can dodge and bend around you as you plunge forward.

At least they're not trucks.

I am eager to explore Vietnam!