My first visitor

While I was traveling around the world several friends from home threatened to join me along the way. No one did, of course. I did have a friend from home contact me out of the clear blue and join me in Thailand, which turned out to be the worst 10-day stretch of the trip.

I had my first visitor from home here in Saigon just before Tet. Kellda wasn't here to visit me. She's Vietnamese and was here to visit family. It was just a happy coincidence that we happened to be in the same city at the same time.

She and her husband Duane joined me for dinner. Duane has visited the country several times with her, so it was fun sharing three very different perceptions of the country.


Kellda and I worked together, so I also got some good gossip from my former workplace. I hopped on a bus to Cambodia the next morning. They headed to the Mekong Delta to visit her family. Now we're all back out our respective workplaces. It was fun while it lasted.

Chúc mừng năm mới!

Happy Chinese New Year! I went to Cambodia during the holiday to get away from the craziness of Saigon. Since I returned I have been working non-stop.

It's true.

After 2-plus years of goofing off I am now overworked! As a result of too much play in Cambodia and too much work in Vietnam I have been sick as a dog for the past few days. I think my body just conked out. Tomorrow I don't work at all so I plan to sleep, read and watch movies all day. I hope to catch up on the blog this week too.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to work. No, really. I mean it.

The End of Indolence

I have a job.

Thank you for your condolences.

I signed a 12-month contract to teach English at one of the biggest language schools in Saigon.

http://www.vus-etsc.edu.vn/?page=app_news&lang=en

The pay rate is good. I'll be teaching all my classes at the same building, rather than having to shuttle back and forth across town between different campuses. (In a city with 10 million people, 6 million motorbikes and a medieval public transportation system, this is a big deal. Note to self: Next time work in a city with a subway.)

I'm not thrilled about going back to work but I think this is a good gig. I will be working mostly nights and weekends, by choice as it turns out. This will keep my days free so I can pick up sweet substitute gigs at the international schools, tutor or maybe even do some freelance writing. I've met some people who may be able to help me get my name back in print.

I wasn't sure I was going to continue the blog now that I'm settling down. I am grateful for the emails I've received from folks back home asking me to keep writing. The subject matter will change, of course. I wish I could continue it in the "another day, another country" mode. Now it will be more of a "fish out of water" story as I dive into teaching and the life of an expat.

When I'm traveling I always have my camera with me. I honestly can't remember the last time I used it, though. I'll make a point to carry it to get some shots of Saigon city life. The size, the traffic, the pollution -- it's all a bit overwhelming to a country boy like me. I must admit, I'm not crazy about the place, but it's the right place for me to be for the near future.

A sad day

I went to work yesterday.

I resigned from my last job on December 31, 2007, so it's been more than two years since I had to get up and go to work.

I know it's childish, but I wish I never had to work again. I've been living in a fantasy world for the past 18 months and I don't want it to end. I haven't actually found a job, though. I was full-day substitute at an international school on the outskirts of Saigon.

There are basically three places where someone like me can hope to teach. I did my teaching practice in a public school. Working conditions there were chaotic, like in a city school in the US. The big difference here is that kids, while rambunctious and chatty, are generally respectful of teachers. Public school jobs are easy to get but don't pay as well.

Language centers are the best bet for a new teacher like me. These are private, modern facilities where students pay to learn English. Pay is usually better and -- for me this is a big "and" -- they're air-conditioned.

Both public schools and language centers pay by the hour, literally by the amount of hours taught. If you are on campus for six hours but you only teach two hours, you get paid for two hours.

Where you want to end up is at an international school. These are usually fairly impressive campuses where rich local students go to school with children of foreigners. Teachers are paid extremely well.

Because families pay out the wazoo to send their kids to these schools the standards for teachers are high. It's something to work towards. You pay your dues in the public schools and language centers and hope to get your foot in the door at an international school.

My foot is in the door.

Miss Kim, the woman who runs the travel desk at my hotel, put me in touch with a fellow American named Gabriel, who has been teaching in Vietnam for five years. Without even meeting me, Gabriel arranged for me to visit his school and meet the principal. They asked me if I would be willing to substitute as needed.

Heck yes!

I had six classes, but the teachers provided lessons and material. All I needed to do is get through the day without the kids burning the building down. Mission accomplished!

I was terrified, but I had a great time. The kids were well-behaved, the staff was incredibly welcoming and supportive. I made it very clear that I would be happy to pinch hit in the future. This is the school's website. Check out the facilities! Check out the pool!

http://vietnam.acgedu.com/

I really needed this experience. It reminded me of why I wanted to work in Vietnam. You can make a comfortable living and save money working as a teacher here. Gabriel and I stopped by his house. He has a house, an actual free-standing house, with a maid. He dresses well and has a brand-new motorcycle. He's living extremely well, but he's not even certified. He's almost finished earning a teaching certification. Then he'll get bumped into the next pay bracket.

Now I know what I'm working towards.

That's the good news.

I've been submitting resumes at language centers, especially who have advertised online that they need teachers. I want to exhaust that avenue before I apply at public schools. I haven't heard from any of them. Not a peep. It could be that my resume isn't very good or that they want people with more experience.

Or it could be that this is a really lousy time to look for a job. A classmate of mine, who's been teaching in Saigon for years, said this time of year schools are gearing down for Tet. That's the lunar new year celebration, by far the biggest holiday of the year in these parts. Most of the country completely shuts down for at least a week, even two, as most people travel home to spend the week with their families.

Even schools that are open during Tet have a drastically reduced schedule. Tet starts on Valentine's Day. I may have to take a job, any job, to get me through Tet, and then start looking again after.

However, I may not be quite done with traveling yet. My visa is almost expired. I could apply for an extension, but, without going into details, it would probably make more sense to leave the country and apply for a new visa. I may have to spend a few days in Bangkok or Phnom Penh. Wouldn't that be awful...

I'd like to thank the Academy

Here I am receiving my TEFL certificate from Diem, the primary instructor for the class. On the board is the location of the post-class gathering. They decided to ... play laser tag? Yeah, it was a young bunch.

Here is the whole happy class. These photos came from Steven, the guy in black in the back row holding his certificate above his head. I took my camera with me but left the memory card in my laptop...


Here I am sitting between Nhi (left) and Nghiem (right), the course administrators. There's a bit of forced perspective going on here. I'm scrunched down between them so you can't tell that I weigh significantly more than the two of them combined!


Afterwards we walked around the corner for a big buffet lunch. The place is so big that the boys who replenish the buffet dishes scoot around on roller skates. I felt a little tug on my heartstrings when I saw the name of the place: Dìn Ký. The dog I had when I was a boy was named Dinky.


Here I am trying a local dish for the first time. Mmm ... snails.

Home sweet home

Tomorrow I receive my certification. I am officially qualified to teach English. Now let's see if I can actually teach!

I spent quite a bit of time finding a hotel in which to stay while I was taking the class. When traveling I usually don't care much where I stay. If I'm only staying for a night or two all I want is a bed and a shower.

I needed a place for a month. I also needed a place where I would feel comfortable, someplace I could do homework and get a good night's sleep. I spent quite a bit of time looking at places. I must have looked at 25 hotels. The one I settled on is the first one with a white sign, the one which has what appears to be an unfortunate name for a hotel.


But this is southern Vietnam, where Dung is pronounced 'yoom'. In the north it's pronounced 'zoom'. It's the name of the owner and also the name of one of the girls who works for her. Two other girls work there, Nhi and Thao. They're all very sweet and helpful. I have felt very much at home.

I was surprised at how many people have asked me about my living arrangements. Here are a couple pix of the room.



The room is quite large. Two beds, a wardrobe, a desk, a refigerator, A/C, cable TV and hot water.

Cost: $300. Per month.

Heck, when I find a job I might actually live in the hotel! If I rent an apartment I'll have to furnish it, pay utilities and find someplace to use the internet. Now all that is included in the cost.

My room also has a balcony overlooking the alley.


At the far end is the hotel where I stayed on my previous visits to Vietnam. I was perfectly happy there for a night or two. Little did I know all I had to do was walk down the alley to find a cleaner, bigger and nicer room for the same price!

My hotel is almost on the corner of Pham Ngu Lao Street, which gives the neighborhood gets its name.


Across the street is a big park. It doesn't look like much here but walk a little further to the left and it's quite nice, with walkways winding around gardens and ponds. In the morning it's packed, as are most city parks in Vietnam, with people walking, playing badminton or doing aerobics.

I've been asked a lot what I'll do for food here. There's no need for me to even think about cooking. I love the food here. Even though I'm staying in the tourist district, which is by definition more expensive, I can get a get a bowl of phổ or bún for 25,000, about $1.50. There is nothing I could buy and cook that cheaply. And it's good!

When you get away from tourists and into the neighborhood it's even cheaper. One of my instructors told me in his neighborhood there's a sidewalk restaurant near his house where he can get meat, rice, veg and soup for 6,000 dong. Which means he can eat three meals a day for exactly one dollar.

I've also felt at home in Saigon because I have a few friends here. Several months ago I took a night "sleeper" bus to Nha Trang, the big beach town in Vietnam. Next to me on the bus was a gorgeous local woman. My first attempts at conversation went nowhere but we ended up talking for hours. She got off in Mui Ne, but we kept in touch.


Thanh is on the left. She's a fashion designer and is working on a graduate degree, so I haven't seen much of her since my return because she's so busy. She introduced me to Thu, who I see quite often. She works in a hotel around the corner from mine so she knows where to find everything. She's been a big help and a good friend.

Thu took me to see "The Hangover" here. I had seen it already, but I thought it would be interesting to see which jokes translated and which didn't. And what the heck, she paid! There were parts where the crowd laughed uproariously and other jokes which didn't get a laugh at all.

The proverbial accident waiting to happen

One of the signature sights of Saigon are the crazy nests of electrical wires. Just around the corner from my hotel is a big intersection with a tourist bar on the corner. Here a utility worker flirts with death about a dozen different ways. Note the ladder he climbed. Better yet, look where he's standing!

Stay classy, Saigon

Tomorrow I start my last week of TEFL class. By Friday I will be certified to teach. After months of thinking about it, planning it and doing it, now the fun will really start. I'll start job hunting.

I'm still pondering whether to work in Saigon, or to go someplace less hectic in Vietnam. I'm also still considering Phnom Penh. Much to think about.

Last week one of the girls in my class celebrated her birthday. Hope turned 21. I was certainly happy for her, but I couldn't help but dwell for just a moment on the fact that she's half my age. Sigh... And she's not even the youngest one in the class!



The school was nice enough to buy her a birthday cake. Here she is cutting it as Diem, the primary course instructor, looks on. Diem is wearing the traditional Vietnamese áo dài.

Rosie is the girl taking the photo. Alice is in white behind her. They're both British. They're also the two best teachers in the class. It's a pleasure watching them teach lessons. Sitting next to Rosie is Thu, a Vietnamese woman from Hanoi who already works as a teacher.

One of the odd quirks of teaching abroad is that locals have a harder time landing jobs than foreigners. Schools and students expect a white person to teach English. Thu is going to teach English and then move to Australia to earn a doctorate degree. Smart cookie.

In the corner are Nhi and Nghiem (in black), the two course administrators. Nghiem goes by Nina because her name is so difficult for English speakers to pronounce. She has her own business helping foreigners arrange paperwork like visas, work permits, and the like. She is also working towards a degree in finance at an international school.

She has two jobs where she speaks English and goes to a school where English is the primary language. She said in all seriousness that she speaks English now better than she speaks Vietnamese! A Vietnamese woman living in Vietnam! She also said she dreams in English.

Store-bought birthday cakes in the US taste like styrofoam. This cake was delicious. We demolished it.


(I have no idea of why this photo insists on getting uploaded at a 90 degree angle.)

I usually go to lunch with two guys from class to a food stall in a local market. There we get rice, veg, soup, one meat (fish, pork, chicken, etc.) and iced green tea for 21,000 dong, or about $1.17. I love Vietnam.

A bunch of my classmates have made habit of going to a British-themed restaurant around the corner for lunch. I usually avoid such places, in any country. They're always expensive and the local interpretations of foreign fare can be quite ... creative. I generally eat local food. If I crave Western food I'll get a pizza. I've been able to find edible pizza just about everywhere I've been.

I was pleasantly surprised by this place. It was packed at lunch but, much to my surprise, we were the only foreigners there.



At the suggestion of one of my classmates I took a chance and ordered a bacon cheeseburger with fries. It was awesome, the first really good burger I've had outside the US. Not only was it good, it was reasonably priced: 50,000 dong, or about $2.75. We're all drinking the ubiquitous iced green tea, trà đá.

Our classroom is close to the famous Ben Thanh Market. It's a real market for real Vietnamese people, but because of it's proximity to the tourist district you have to walk through a lot of stalls selling, well, crap before you get to the good stuff.

In the shade you can see a xích lô driver sleeping on the job. (It's usually written cyclo in English.)

It's a hell of a way to make a living, riding a clunky old bicycle contraption around in the tropical heat all day. Late at night they'll be lined up along the streets with tarps over them, the drivers asleep inside.

First day of school

Today I taught my first class. Part of the reason I'm taking the TEFL class is that it gives me time in front of students in a more or less controlled environment. For most of my training sessions there will be an instructor in the room with me. For our first teaching practice we worked in pairs.

I was incredibly nervous going in. I didn't know how well I would remember the lesson. I didn't know how smart or well-behaved the students would be. I didn't know if I'd like it. I didn't know if I'd be good at it.

The verdict is in.

It was a blast.

It was so much fun. I felt comfortable and relaxed. We taught a group of 30 generally well-behaved sixth-graders for 90 minutes. Our observer said he struggled with his evaluation because he couldn't think of many areas where there was room for improvement.

I found out that my fellow students thought I already was a teacher, which has to be a good sign. One of them said she thought I seemed "teacher-y", which probably isn't a word, but it's a nice compliment all the same!

Tomorrow I teach a lesson by myself. I'm happy to report that I'm really looking forward to it.

Hot for teaching

I finished my first week of TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language). So far, so good. I was, well, terrified isn't too strong a word to use how I felt the day before class started.

It could have been disastrous, 14 students from ages 18 to 56 from all over the world crammed into a tiny classroom in tropical heat. Luckily the air conditioning does a decent job and the students are all good people who take the class seriously.

The instructors are good for the most part. Andy is a British expat who has been teaching for years and loves it. With him you have to think before asking him a question because there's a good chance he will go off on a tangent for 20 minutes. Which is good. It's encouraging to see his enthusiasm.

Diem (pronounce yee-UHM, but as one syllable) speaks English with a pronounced Vietnamese accent but her grammar is absolutely perfect. She's a quite capable teacher.

Sa taught one lesson in "direct teaching". One of the primary philosophies behind the teaching methods we are learning is that only the target language is spoken in the classroom. If you have a class full of people who speak no English whatsoever you have to be able to teach them without using any Vietnamese.

To demonstrate the basic methods Sa taught us phrases in Thai without speaking any English (or Vietnamese). This was a particularly unnerving session, although it was encouraging to see that it can be done.

We've had two lessons in Vietnamese langauge, which I was looking forward to. Unfortunately these almost did more harm than good. The instructor, Mr. Vu, was atrocious. All you really need to know about Vu is that when students would make a mistake he would laugh.

I've spent several weeks in Vietnam and have tried to learn basic phrases and pronunciation rules. A few other students had also tried to learn some of the language on their own. We ended up coaching the other students. You know the teacher is bad when students are asking ME to help with their pronunciation!

The next day Andy asked us what we thought about Vu's methods. I was happy to learn everyone in the class was disappointed. Andy explained that Vu works for UNESCO, which happens to be the organization that the school rents the room from. So they're stuck with him. In the end, though, it was a good lesson in how not to teach a class.

Here are my classmates working on a project. You can see drawings we did for previous lessons taped to the walls.

I'm standing in the doorway to the classroom. The desks on the left are against the wall, which gives an idea of how cozy the room is. Behind me is the office.

These are the two camera shy course administrators, Nhi (left) and Nghiem (or Nina, on the right). We walk through the office to get to the classroom, which perhaps explains why the office is bigger!

This is the exercise we are working on.

This week we will observe one of our instructors teaching a lesson in a classroom. Later we will work in pairs to teach our first lesson in front of actual students. Yikes. My partner is Thu, the only Vietnamese student in my class. Yesss... She is confident in front of the class and has firm opinions on how to teach. I am more than willing to let her drive on my first trip in front of a class!

Schoolbus in the sky

I took a two-hour flight from Saigon to Hanoi on Jetstar, a budget airline that serves Southeast Asia. The seats are covered in vinyl and seemed to have been designed for hobbits. You get what you pay for.

But this time I got so much more.

I generally don't write posts about the process of getting from point A from point B because stories about traveling by train or bus or plane all tend to run together. This, however, was something else entirely.

As I was waiting in line for my boarding pass a group of at least people got in line behind me. And beside me. And in front of me. I've discovered the idea of waiting in an orderly queue is a western phenomenon which hasn't yet caught on in other parts of the world. (Russians are the worst queue jumpers I've seen.)

I don't mean to cast aspersions on Vietnamese people, or the poor, or country folk, or anyone. It's just that this particular group of people was rather ... coarse. I don't think any of them had ever been on a plane before.

We started boarding 40 minutes late with no explanation -- am I still in America? -- and that's when the fun started. We took a bus from the gate to the plane, where stairs led to the front and rear doors of the plane. Boarding passes indicate which door to use.

What happened next was not queue jumping. It was a riot. The entire group rushed the flight attendants at the stairs. I was one of the few passengers who had my boarding pass handy and one of fewer passengers who was at the right entrance. There was a constant push and pull of people leaving the mob at one set of stairs and forcing their way into the mob at the other.

Passengers were moving up and down the aisles and switching seats as the bewildered flight attendants attempted to maintain control. I was in an aisle seat and ended up sitting next to three different men before the plane even started moving.

(Fun fact: Movie theaters in Vietnam have assigned seats!)

My (final) neighbor in the middle seat spent most of the trip shouting to his acquaintances throughout the plane, often while standing on his seat. He stopped occasionally to hock impressively revolting loogies into his barf bag. I noticed he wasn't wearing shoes, which wasn't so strange, since I often remove my shoes when flying. Keep that little detail in mind, though.

Jetstar charges for beverages and snacks. Flight attendants started serving from carts at each of the plane. Passengers rushed the carts, shouting and waving their arms like traders on the New York Stock Exchange.

This went on for approximately 87 hours. Or so it seemed. It was only two hours but it was a looooonnnngggg two hours. I spent much of the trip with a various assortment of asses in my face and lap as the passengers crowded the aisle trying to get to the snack cart. It called to mind scenes of refugee camps, when crowds storm UN vehicles delivering food.

Finally, we landed. The touchdown was soft enough but you would have thought we'd crashed into the side of a mountain from the shrieking. After we landed the pilot gave the obligatory "Please stay in your seats until ... " spiel but it was too late. Virtually everyone on the plane had already gotten out of their seats.

My expectorating neighbor and the woman next to him literally crawled over my lap to get into the aisle. Which was already full of people. I slid over to the window seat and didn't get up until the plane was almost empty.

As I was leaving baggage claim I saw my buddy from the middle seat ... still with no shoes. He did the entire trip barefoot.

I've been in three airports in Vietnam. They are all strict about checking baggage claim stickers on the boarding pass against those on your luggage. You can't leave the airport without showing a boarding pass. This was not common knowledge...

I gathered most of my fellow passengers had lost them or thrown them away. From the back of the mob I waved my boarding pass at the woman checking the baggage claim tags. She waved me forward through the chaos. Free at last!

I've had my share of funny-crazy travel stories. I rode a chicken bus in Nicaragua with a bicycle in the aisle next to me, trying (unsuccessfully) to dodge the handlebars for two hours. I got off the bus looking women had been touching me with ten-foot poles. On a local bus in Nepal a man boarded the bus and, seeing no empty seats, sat in my lap. (At which point I graciously offered my seat and stood.) And so on.

But I have never seen or even heard of anything like this. It was like flying on the set of the Jerry Springer Show. Again, I must stress that I do not feel these people were typically Vietnamese, typically poor, typically anything. If I had seen this in a movie I would have thought it a tasteless and ignorant caricature of non-Western culture.

It was so over-the-top crazy that even at the time it was hilarious. Besides, uneventful flights make for boring blog posts.

Saigon street scenes

The most famous backpacker ghettos are, well, exactly what you'd expect from the modern connotation of the word "ghetto". Dirty. Sleazy. Etc.

I rather like the Pham Ngu Lao section of Saigon, though. Sure, you have do deal with the occasional ladyboy prostitute riding alongside on you on a motorbike on the sidewalk trying to get you to purchase his/her ... services. (Not only is this is a true story, it's happened many times.) But on the whole it's cleaner and more low-key than, say, Khao San Road in Bangkok or Thamel in Kathmandu.

I've been to Saigon four times and I always stay at the same place. It's on an alley street just off the main intersection. You can see the THANH sign on the right side of the street in the middle of the photo.



Also note how many motorbikes are parked on this little side street. The family that owns the hotel always remembers me, although I wonder if I'm not just getting the fake Southeast Asian smile. Ah, well, the price is right. Although I could do without the stairs.

Virtually every hotel I've seen in Vietnam is what we would consider a rowhome back in Baltimore, a narrow property in a block of identical properties. In the hotel in Saigon where I stay I can touch both walls in the stairwell.

They always put me in the same room. While it's undeniably sweet that they remember the exact room I stayed in, almost three months later, I haven't figured out a way to politely tell them (and allow them to "save face") that I would really rather not be on the top floor.

This is the view looking down the stairwell from my room.


Every time I return it's like doing the Everest Base Camp hike again! The ropes are a pully system they use to raise and lower linen, cleaning supplies, etc.

Just around the corner is an intersection of two major thoroughfares. Note how the traffic is moving in all four directions simultaneously. Also note the the name of the building in the background.


And I was worried about being an American in this part of the world...

One of the hardest things about traveling in this part of the world is dealing with children who are either selling or begging. There are women who walk around with baskets of household items like nail clippers, facial tissues, and so on in one arm, with an infant in the other. It's hard to say no to them.

It's even harder to say no when there is no mother, only a child of five or six with the basket of goods for sale.

Of course the scam here is obvious: No one buys anything. They just give money to the child. It's a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. If you don't give the child money she gets in trouble. If you give her money it encourages her parents to continue making her beg.

My admittedly hopeless method to save footing on the slippery moral slope is to give the children money if they will let me take their picture. You have to be one hardhearted bastard to say no to this face.



One of the typically Vietnamese experiences is to sit at one of the impromptu bar/restaurants that pop up on the sidewalks at night. Some offer food but some just offer "fresh beer" or bia hoi, draft beer. It tastes almost as good as dirty dishwater but it's 5,000 dong per glass, which means you can have four beers and get change back for a dollar.

Usually the stools are about eight inches high with a surface area about the size of a paperback book. (I am not exaggerating to make a point!) This particular stall serves a full menu of surprisingly good food and has actual chairs.



Notice that the chairs are actually two chairs tied together. Apparently chairs here aren't built to withstand fat tourist butts. The table here is quite high for a bia hoi stand. The cart to the right has snails and clams for sale in the bowls, and dried squid hanging from the top.

Cu Lao Cham

Just off shore from Hoi An, and within sight of Cau Dai beach, is Cu Lao Cham, or the Cham Islands. As the name suggests it is an island inhabited by people of the Cham ethnic group. There are eight islands, only one of which, Hon Lao, is populated. Basic tourist accomodations are available but most tourists visit the islands on a daytrip.

I expected the tour to be like Koh Phi Phi Ley in Thailand or Nha Trang in Vietnam: meaning beautiful terrain spoiled by thousands of tourists. I was happy to be proven wrong.

It takes about 25 minutes by speedboat to get to Hon Lao from Cau Dai beach. The group I was in was friendly and fun, which is good since we were stacked on the boat like cordwood. I should note that the crew insisted we wear lifejackets, which was reassuring, since I've been on tour boats that didn't even have them.


The first stop was the fishing village at Bai Huong, or Huong Beach. I would have preferred to go straight to the beach, but the brief tour of the town was enjoyable and our tour guide was surprisingly competent. This was a nice touch I hadn't seen before.


We stopped at a small visitor center where we learned about, among other things, land crabs. These migrate from all over the island to a common mating ground once a year, following the lunar cycle. No one understands how they know. They're friendly, too!


To get to the visitor center we had to walk through patches of drying rice.


Our boat is the small white spot in the top left corner. The village is visible in the distance. From there we walked through rice terraces where a farmer was tilling with help from a buffalo.


We went to a small temple where there was more rice drying in the courtyard.


This is a peek inside the temple. Note the red swastika on the small Buddha statue's chest.


The village has little tourist infrastructure. It's a working fishing village. Here are some locals weighing the day's catch of squid.


From there we took the boat to a reef where we could snorkel. Or snoke, as this boat says.


The water was surprisingly cool and refreshing but there wasn't much to see underwater. We went to a small restaurant where the food wasn't great, but it was plentiful.


We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the beach. Our restaurant was part of a small guest house. There was another small resort further down the beach. But we were the only people there! I've been on boat trips where the beach and the snorkel spots are packed with boats and tourists. We had the whole beach to ourselves. Bliss.

The only other boats there were a couple fishing boats. The mainland is visible in the background. Fishermen paint eyes on the front of the boat to help find fish.

Once more unto the beach

The first time I was in Hoi An I spent a day at Cau Dai beach. It's leisurely 20-minute bike ride from the town. The day was windy and overcast and downright chilly when I got on the beach. But the beach itself seemed quite nice. I wondered what it would look like on a clear, sunny day.

Now I know. It wasn't just hot and sunny. It was probably the hottest day I've ever spent on a beach. The sand scalded my feet even through my flip-flops. Even in the shade of a beach umbrella the heat was suffocating.

But the water was refreshingly cool, so I got in every 20 or 30 minutes or so to cool off. In Thailand, by way of comparison, the water is so warm that it doesn't cool you off. It's hard to tell where the air ends and the water begins.

One of the knocks against Vietnam is that, even though it's a beautiful country and easy to get around and the food is delicious and the people are wonderful, the beaches don't compare to Thailand.

I don't get it. I was hugely disappointed by the beaches in Thailand. The ones I visited were narrow, crowded and loud. It's impossible to relax while you're fending off a never-ending stream of beach vendors, 10 or 12 per minute at times.

The beaches in Vietnam are long, wide and relatively undeveloped, although that's changing quickly. Nowhere in Vietnam did I see anything like Hat Chaweng, the biggest beach on Koh Samui in Thailand.



I had plenty of time to check out the Vietnam coastline from the air this past week because I flew four times. Danang-Hanoi, Hanoi-Danang, Danang-Saigon, Saigon-Hanoi. Long story.

There are miles and miles of pristine beach with no commercial development whatsoever. The water isn't as clear as I've seen in other parts of SE Asia but aside from that I like the beaches in Vietnam much, much more than those in Thailand. I don't want to be too hasty in my appraisal, though. I think this warrants further research. I think I should spend a few more weeks beach-hopping before I submit an official opinion.

I've mentioned before how I think it's funny how overweight, pasty-skinned tourists suffer through the scorching mid-day heat in skimpy clothes while the locals do everything they can to avoid the sun. Women here will cover literally every inch of skin during the day: sunhat, mask, scarf, long sleeves, gloves, pants, socks and sandals. The only part they don't cover is their eyes.

The reason, as I understand it, and as with most things I "understand" I'm probably dead wrong, is due to a cultural belief that goes back literally thousands of years. Dark skin is traditionally a sign that the person farms or fishes or toils at some other "common" work in the sun all day. Lighter skin is a sign of wealth or refinement.

When locals go to the beach for fun they go in the morning or the evening, when the sun is low and the air is cooler. This makes a lot of sense, aside from the fact that these are the times when sharks feed.

This is a stretch of beach near my sunbed at mid-day.



This is almost the same shot near sunset, with the beach full of locals.



One way to pass the time is to watch the local fishermen working. These circular boats practically beg to have their photos taken.



Fishermen stand up as they row these with a single long paddle. This is a shot from Cham Island (which I'll cover in a separate post). Try this at home. I dare you. I think I'd be able to stay on a rodeo bull longer than I could stand up in one of these boats.



Later in the day they create just the right amount of shade for a man to play with his granddaughter on the beach.



I met a woman who lives in Saigon but was in Hoi An visiting family. She invited me to dinner at a beach a few miles up the road that I hadn't heard or read about. It was packed with people eating, swimming and relaxing on the beach. I did not see another tourist.

Tourists always pay more. I don't have a problem with that, as long as I don't think I'm getting fleeced. Even at inflated prices I pay much less than I would at home. We ordered two big grilled fish, picked the meat off and rolled it in rice paper with fresh greens. I'm sure there's a name for this but I don't know it. I was too stuffed to ask. We each had a soda. The entire meal cost about twice as much as the coffee I'm drinking as I write this!

Denouement

Vietnam is an easy country to travel in, partly due to the wealth of transportation options, but mostly because of the shape of the country. Because it's long and skinny, visitors either travel from north to south (Hanoi to Saigon) or vice versa.

I did the south to north route, entering from Cambodia, starting in Saigon and heading north to Hanoi and ultimately to Sapa. Having gone all the way up, I'm now going back down. I decided to return to Hoi An, my favorite town in the whole wide world. The sunset shot above is just one reason why.

From here I may continue on to Saigon, or I may go back north again and see if I have better luck with the weather in Sapa. My visa for Vietnam expires on May 3, so I may stay here for a couple more weeks. Or I may go back to Cambodia. Or Laos. Ask me tomorrow.

I am totally winging it at this point. The trip is essentially over. I'm just trying to stretch it out as long as I can. Luckily I'm in a part of the world where it's easy to travel cheaply.

I don't expect to be posting as much since I'll probably be covering familiar ground. After the breakneck pace of the first half of the trip it's been nice to be able to take my time and relax a little.

Among the Hmong

The main reason tourists go to Sapa is to trek into the hills and visit the local villages of the ethnic minorities. The area around Sapa is populated mostly by Black Hmong and Red Dzao.

Homestays are a popular excursion. In theory this involves hiking to a village, staying with a local family and seeing their traditional way of life. In actuality it's usually a staged event, almost like a museum exhibit.

One couple I met was aghast to spend a night at a "traditional" homestay not with the family, but in a separate building nicer than their hotel back in town, complete with satellite TV and a refrigerator full of beer. They were led to believe they'd be roughing it, not basking in luxury.

It's possible to arrange the real thing. There are so many women wandering the streets of Sapa selling souvenirs that all you have to do is find one willing to work as a guide. It's not hard to find someone willing to guide you for around $10 per day. It beats carrying around a basket of pillowcases and shoulder bags and getting rejected by tourists all day.

I ended up not doing a trek to the hills because it rained every day I was there. But I did do one short hike to a village called Cat Cat, just outside Sapa. I did it on the one sunny day I had. The scenery was beautiful, but the village itself had the feel of a theme park attraction. Hiking the main path was as "authentic" as an exhibit at Epcot.

The first sign of trouble was the ticket booth. It didn't get me anything except the privilege of walking through the village. It was less than a dollar to get in, which would have been OK had I thought that the money went to the village. The ticket says Lao Cai Tourism Company so I would guess that somewhere in the neighborhood of zero-point-zero percent of the proceeds goes to the village.

A wide, evenly-paved path wound down the hill from the ticket booth, a path built solely for tourists. Because the valley is so steep I could clearly see dirt tracks going up and down the hills, but aside from the one I was on I couldn't see any other paved paths.

Which is not to say it isn't a working village. The path went past rice terraces where children played in the muddy water...


... and others that were being tilled by water buffalo.


In the foreground you can see a young girl working with an infant strapped to her back. Women work from sunup to sundown with babies on their backs. I never heard one of the children cry.

All along the path are huts selling the same souvenirs you can find in town, except that you can buy them straight from the source. I bought a small stone carving from this Hmong woman, working here as her cute little daughter watches. She didn't speak a word of English so I couldn't even manage to find out what her name is. But she does have a celphone.


At the bottom of the hill the path crossed a bridge where I passed a boy, perhaps eight years old, going off to work with his tools.


As I passed him I followed what I think is a good rule when traveling: Always smile at someone carrying an axe and a machete.

Just beneath the bridge was a waterfall where you can plainly see how much rain the area had been receiving in the muddy torrent.


Then it got a bit absurd. There were a couple brick buildings with concrete walkways. Inside one was a traditional arts center with a PA system blasting music into the hillside. It cost extra to go in. Again, I'm happy to contribute to the local economy -- I bought quite a few souvenirs -- but sorry, no, I'm not going to go along with the charade.

From there I decided to wander off the paved walkway and wander some of the dirt paths into the hills. This is the view looking back up at Sapa, with the paved walkway visible in the foreground.

Everywhere I looked were rice terraces built into the mountainside, the reflection off the water making them look like giant marble steps.



For tourists these hills provide a challenging day or two of hiking. The people here walk up and down these hills every day and farm these on these steep slopes. It may be a hard life, but I doubt they ever tire of the view.