When meeting random strangers results in delicious papaya

February 22

So, remember Chu Chen? I might not have mentioned him by name before, but he was the gentleman Miki and I met on our first day in Hanoi. The one with the sister who owned the organic farm? Well, after days of trying to read his chicken scratch, we finally figured out his email using a series of guess and check methods and some basic logic and reasoning. And then he responded. I was so excited when Miki told me that I literally jumped up and down.  It was certainly more the thrill of the chase, because the night before we were supposed to meet his sister, delirious from the humid hostel room, I dreamt that Chu Chen’s sister was a kidnapper and my dad had to come save us a la Liam Neeson in Taken. This is why it’s important to stay in an air-conditioned room.

I won’t say it’s my last day because I’m in denial that it’s my last day, but it’s my last day. I could easily stay and explore more of this beautiful country, but the very job that gave me the money to go on this trip is calling me back. Sigh. Regardless, today was both fascinating and extremely weird. The weird part being that Miki and I knew neither Chu Chen nor his sister and were being invited to have lunch on her organic farm like we were old friends. The fascinating part came as a result of a delicious lunch of veggies grown right down the field and chicken plucked straight from the coop. The stunning view from the farmhouse didn’t hurt either.

We began the adventure in a produce delivery truck with an employee who didn’t speak a word of English. We knew we were going to Alice, Chu Chen’s sister’s house, but we didn’t know much else.  The driver dropped us off at a massage parlor for a good twenty minutes – that was pretty strange – and by the time I ran out to grab a smoothie, she had returned. We pulled into a gated community and drove right up to Alice’s house – a beautiful home that contrasted drastically with the homes we’d seen thus far in Chiang Mai. After a few awkward introductions, and me mistaking the king and queen of Thailand for Alice and her husband, we climbed into the back of a pickup truck (again) with the two sons of the most stereotypical British man I have ever met. Peter was incredibly rude, grouchy and had awful teeth and even worse B.O. His sons were just as awkward as their father, though they had a bit of a more of a positive temperament, and Miki and I brought up anything and everything to fill the awkward silences.

The farm itself was picturesque with hazy mountains in the distance and acres upon acres of macadamia nut trees, coffee plants and skinny papaya trees. Peter took us out on a tour (I’m still unclear what his role is on the farms), showing us the different macadamia nut plants (green and brown) and explaining to us how they are harvested. You actually don’t pick the nuts directly from the tree, you wait for the tree to drop them and then collect them from the ground. Miki and I collected a few and later smashed them with a hammer on the concrete outside our hostel resulting in a pretty humorous spectacle of nut fragments flying everywhere.

After examining the macadamia nut trees, we hiked uphill and picked a couple of papaya. I don’t particularly like papaya, but they were absolutely delicious and I gorged myself on them for dessert. During lunch, Peter proceeded to complain about everything in America (though he had never been there himself) and whined about how in the suburbs you have to grow grass instead of being able to plant potatoes in your front yard. Boo hoo. He proceeded to scold me for not making my own yogurt and for buying apples in the off season. What a gem.

After lunch, Alice showed us the dorm-style rooms she has upstairs for young foreigners who are looking to volunteer. Miki was hoping to help out on the farm, but since the high season isn’t until July, Alice told her there wouldn’t be much for her to do if she stayed. If anyone is looking to be a farming laborer for a week, let me know. I can get you in touch with Alice; she’d love to have you harvest macadamia nuts for her!

We said our goodbyes and thanked Chu Chen and Alice for their generosity – after all we were total strangers. Then, Peter, his wife and their two sons drove us back to our hostel (not before stopping to fix their coffee maker, which Peter proceeded to complain about when the maintenance guy said he couldn’t fix the leaky filter), and we spent the afternoon lounging in the lobby – I wrote a few blog posts while Miki chatted with a some of the random guys who were also staying at our hostel. As a final hurrah, we decided to get Thai massages. I opted for a hot-pouch massage (similar to a hot stone massage), and Miki got a full-body Thai massage. I’d never been massaged before, so getting a Thai massage was like going down a black diamond on your first day of skiing. Instead of being rubbed, I was poked and prodded with knees and elbows. At one point, my masseuse had actually climbed on top of me so she could really dig her elbow into my shoulder blade. It wasn’t horrible because at the end they pressed hot pouches of herbs onto my back and I felt like I was getting a dozen mini hugs.

For dinner, we found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the woman behind the stove cooked our curries in a wok the size of a car tire. The food was delicious, and the meal cost less than $2. We toasted to our adventure and drank to being great travel companions. I’ll miss Thailand, Laos and Vietnam, but most of all I’ll miss traveling with Miki. She was a great trooper, putting up with all the activities I wanted to do, letting me wear her down and laughing at my ridiculous jokes. Saying goodbye to her was certainly the hardest part of my journey home, even harder than the 13 hour flight back to New York.

Until next time Southeast Asia, can’t wait to return.

-A

Elephant Day

It’s Elephant Day! Yay! I couldn’t have been more excited if today were my wedding, bat mitzvah and birthday all rolled into one. One of the things I requested back in the early planning stages of our trip was to go to Chiang Mai specifically to see (and play with) the elephants there. Apparently, riding elephants is bad for them. My guess is that this refers to the wooden carriages that are often strapped to the poor fellas, so we chose a no-riding elephant camp to make sure the elephants would be having as much fun as we were.  We got picked up at 8:30 in the morning. It was the two of us and another girl named Whitney who was coincidentally from Troy. She had been living in Australia for the past year, working in retail at NorthFace, and enjoying her time in a magical-sounding beach town. She was very sweet and we chatted about our adventures as we the tuk-tuk twisted and turned along the mountain roads.

Finally, we arrived. It was pretty insane to see the elephants up close – there were three of them Ma-Noi and her baby Pim and Ma-Di. They were all females, like most of the elephants in these types of camps. This is because males can get aggressive and territorial, so it’s better not to let the tourists run loose with them. Even the females towered over us, though. Their legs were bigger than my torso and their trunks were essentially giant fingers that could snake around anything.  Immediately, we called them over waving sugar canes and bananas as bait. Elephants eat an average of 400 pounds a day. Yes, 400 pounds. And here I am thinking Jews love to eat. I guess that makes elephants the Jews of the animal kingdom because they spent 90% of the time we were there eating in some way or another. They were smart, too. After a couple of years nursing, the babies are sent to school together where they are trained in basic commands such as go, turn around and stay. They are also taught tricks like spraying water out of their trunks, giving giant sloppy kisses (that felt like a wet vacuum was sucking my cheek) and bowing with their trunk lifted high. The elephants were basically giant dogs – and they were rewarded the same way – with treats. After emptying our bag of bananas and sugar cane, we joined the elephants on a trek through the jungle. What was nice about this specific elephant camp, compared to the others we passed on the way, was the fact that the elephants had lots of natural space to roam – just like they would if they were wild. Beyond the old rice field where they lived, there was a river and just beyond that a jungle where they could roam and find bamboo leaves to snack on. Trekking with the elephants was a treat, and we quickly learned their temperaments (Ma-Di was bit of trouble-maker where Ma-Noi was more obedient). Since Pim was only a year and half (but still taller than me), she was still nursing. But she was hardly attached to her mom, instead fawning over one of the guys who worked on the farm. Whenever he growled, which is the noise the mama elephant makes to call her babies, Pim would amble over happily, wrapping her trunk around his arm to play with him or pulling him up to chase her. It was adorable.

Lunch was one of the best meals I’ve had all trip. Veggies and chicken in red curry with rice and yellow curry with chicken and potatoes. And for dessert, fresh pineapple and watermelon. The guys who were in charge of the elephants were all from local villages, which is where a lot of these elephants come from. Since they are born and raised in captivity, it’s impossible for them to be let out into the jungle because they rely so much on humans for food. Wild elephants are quite territorial, so it’s dangerous to get too close to them. Thankfully, these not-so-little guys were very sweet and happy (especially considering how much sugar cane they could eat!). 

Once we (elephants included) had finished stuffing ourselves, it was time to get muddy at what the trainers called the "elephant spa," which was basically a giant pit of mud at the bottom of the rice patty. The elephants loved the mud, getting down to ground while we scrubbed them with brushes and gravely mud. In case you were wondering, an elephant fart is louder than a megaphone siren. They really enjoyed farting in the mud, particularly whenever you got close to them. Then they would roll around, giddy with the fact that they just grossed you out. See, elephants and humans are not so different after all. All the while, the trainers were slinging more mud at us than at the elephants themselves. Knowing that they contained elephant farts wasn't too comforting, but seeing how happy the babies were rolling around in the mud made being covered in mud and elephant farts worth it. After the mud, it was bath time. This was baby Pim's favorite part. She spent 90% of the time completely submerged in water, her little trunk sticking out like a periscope. Another disgusting scenario that made me reluctant to join in on the fun was the amount of turds the elephants churned out. The trainers would haul them into the woods with their hands like they were nothing but soccer balls (which they equated to in size). You just couldn't think about it. Instead, we focused on how sweet the elephants were and got occasionally sprayed with water from their trunks. 

The bathing concluded and the elephants wandered back to the rice fields to find some more sugar cane, while we moved upriver to rinse off a little bit better. The amount of sand and dirt in my bathing suit turned my striped bikini into a slight-brown tinged striped bikini. We dried off by laying out on the rocks that rose from the river, and then headed back to the pavilion where we had eaten lunch. Another round of feeding, was followed by another photo op and a quick rinse-off in the showers. Pretty soon it was time to say goodbye to our new friends. It may have seemed that it was far harder for us to say goodbye, but I like to think the elephants were crying on the inside and that their flapping ears were actually them waving goodbye to us. 

I must have been pretty exhausted because I fell asleep on the narrow benches in the back of the tuk-tuk and slept pretty much the entire way back. I did end up with a crick in my neck, though. We coordinated with Whitney and decided to meet up a couple hours later to head to the infamous Chiang Mai Sunday Night Market. The night market was like the Saturday market, but three times as large with that many more people. I felt like I was waiting on a crowded subway platform and no matter where I moved, there were people far too close to me. We learned our lesson from last night and got food first, Pad Thai, of course and some fried bananas that were delicious. We ended up standing and eating because all the rickety little chairs were taken. Right near the big ole pile of trash. Classic, Southeast Asia. Afterwards, we wandered the night market. I headed to six different elephant pants stands, sadly realizing there was no negotiating these pants below the displayed price. In the end, they were less than three dollars each, but it's the principle of it all. There really wasn't much else in the night market that I felt were worthy of my bot - lots of tchotchkes, cheaply made clothing and crafts that were likely made in China.

We finally reached the end of the night market, and celebrated our achievement with smoothies (at this point, we were pros at asking for dairy free smoothies for Mik. I was OK with dairy, later learning that the creamy deliciousness of my smoothie was from the condensed milk that Asians love to add to their fruit drinks.) Heading back to our hostel, some of the vendors were already starting to close up shop. We said goodbye to Whitney, wished her luck on her travels and parted ways. Considering I started my day with elephants and ended with elephant (pants), I'd say it was one for the books.

Becoming Chiang Mai Experts

February 19 & 20

All we wanted was Pad Thai. Good, real authentic Pad Thai. That was the first thing we asked the receptionist at the hostel. "Where is the best Pad Thai in Chiang Mai?" We had spent a good portion of our trip hearing the phrase "Thailand has the best food" and we were very eager to start our culinary journey, even if it was only for four days. 

We dropped our bags and enjoyed the AC for a few minutes before heading off to find some Pad Thai and book our elephant excursion. The receptionist directed us to a group of street carts that served all kinds of spicy, Thai goodies. Sadly, we couldn't find Pad Thai, so Miki got a noodle soup dish and I settled with a Thai Basil Chicken dish was just OK. It's suprising how large Chiang Mai is. We didn't realize until we actually walked around, but it was a full blown city. For some reason, I imagined a quaint, artsy village with elephant treks, cooking classes and massages. After a bit of ATM drama that resulted in me spending nearly an hour on the phone trying to convince Chase Bank that I was, indeed, Alyssa Adler (Rookie Mistake #2 Part B), we booked our elephant tours, wandered around in search of ice cream (no such luck) and headed back to the hostel. 

Our first full day in Thailand began with a ride in a tuk-tuk into the mountains. It was hardly as rustic as I imagined it would be, as we climbed higher and higher. We made conversation with a food-obsessed couple from Brooklyn who recommended a Thai restaurant called Pok Pok. Have any of you ever been? According to the girl, the chef does not respond to desperate tweets asking for restaurant recommendations in Thailand, in case you were wondering. Arriving at Doi Suthep was like visiting the Thai version of the Western Wall. Packed with tourists, surrounded by stalls that sold over-priced Western food and souvenirs, we maneuvered the best we could, climbing the many steps to the top and dodging worn-out tourists.

The legend of Doi Suthep involves a white elephant, of course, and a monk named Sumanathera who obtained a Buddha relic that had magical powers. When he went to the king, however, the relic didn't seem to have any abnormal characteristics, so the king rejected it. The monk then traveled to northern Thailand, where the relic broke in two. The smaller half was kept in a temple called Suandok, and the larger piece was strapped to the back of a white elephant and released into the jungle. The elephant climbed up to Doi Suthep, stopped, trumpeted three times and then died. This was seen as an omen, and thus, the temple of Doi Suthep was built. 

True to the story, there were relics of elephants all over the temple grounds. To Buddhists, this is one of the holiest sites in all of Thailand. Many people were there to worship, walking around the pagoda three times carrying flowers which would later be placed on one of the many altars in the temple. Miki and I wandered, taking in the lovely colors and watching the Buddhist rituals with curiosity. Known for beautiful views of Chiang Mai, we were disappointed to find a thick fog covering the city, so we headed back to the tuk-tuk to visit another temple a little ways down the mountain, Wat Pha Lat. This Wat was much less crowded. In fact there was almost no one else there. It was peaceful and beautiful, surrounded completely by jungle and constructed in a more modest fashion. There, we met another novice monk who was originally from Laos, but had spent the last seven years at a temple in Thailand. He explained to us that an important Dahli (Buddhist rabbi) was in town to host a "meeting." Many monks had traveled from around the region to see him. In fact, there were two monks on our flight from Luang Prebang likely traveling to Chiang Mai for that reason. He wanted a picture with us, so we obliged and then asked for a picture with him. We wrote our names down for him so he could find us on Facebook. Like many monks,  he wanted to practice his English. Miki already has a Facebook buddy whom she met at Big Brother Mouse, so she's s practically an expert at practicing English with monks. If you're ever in Laos or Thailand and visit a Buddhist temple, don't be shy about talking to the monks! They love meeting foreigners and practicing their English. Don't worry, I thought they were silent monks when I first got here,too 

After exploring the beautiful grounds of Wat Pha Lat we realized we were stuck. Since this was not as hot of a tourist destination, there were no tuk-tuks around. We contemplated walking down the mountain, or at least trying to flag one like true New Yorkers, when we spotted a tuk-tuk. The driver told us he was chartering a family for the day, but if it was OK with them, he would drive us back to the city. The family, who were French, obliged and we all climbed into the back of the truck. What was supposed to take maybe a half-hour, ended up taking an hour and a half as we drove all around Chiang Mai. Miki and I were fairly certain the driver didn't know where he was going and the French family knew just as little. Fortunately, they were very nice and had three kids who whined just like American kids. Of course, it was the middle one who complained the most. He didn't speak English, but after having experience with two younger brothers (who were so whiny, sometimes my parents called them Weinstein and Weinstein, Attorneys at Law), I felt like I understood him perfectly. 

We were starving by the time we finally got dropped off in the old city (yes, there are old cities outside of Jerusalem). Stumbling into a vegetarian restaurant we feasted for $3 and enjoyed the fans whirring overhead. Like I said, Chiang Mai is hot and muggy, so any chance you get to cool down, you take it. We spent the afternoon roaming the streets of the old city and heading over to the Saturday night market. If there's one thing Chiang Mai is known for besides elephants and cooking classes, it's the night market. It's a Thai version of the Shuk HaCarmel in Tel Aviv - it sells crap you never thought you needed, but very well may want. We did a complete lap, deciding what food we would come back to when we were hungry and eyeballing the elephant pants. Finally, we decided we couldn't wait any longer and, even though we weren't totally hungry, we reentered the market to get food. This time, the market was packed. Like full on can't-move-Times-Square-times-a-zillion-packed. I used my New York shouldering and elbowing skills and got us to the right food carts. We opted for a portion of Tofu Pad Thai to share, an egg roll, some french fries for Miki and some fried squid and chicken for me. Plus, the obligated smoothie, of course. Exhausted and desperate for some cool air, we hauled our goodies all the way back to the hostel where we sat in the lobby and ate while the random hostel boys chatted with us and watched The Interview on the big screen TV. 

Pretty much wiped from our day in the heat and clocking in almost ten miles worth of steps, I headed upstairs to write some blog posts and get showered. Instead, I ended up talking to another girl in our room - a German, of course - who had great taste in books and wanted to hear about our time in Laos. Before I knew it, Miki was back upstairs, it was almost midnight and time for bed. Because tomorrow was going to be a big day. Literally.

A Laos History Lesson

February 18

Between caves and muddy rice paddies, my coordination has certainly been put to the test. But if the past week and a half was full of tests, today was my final exam. In our quest to find something to do that didn't involve beer or balloons full of laughing gas, we discovered an off-the-beaten-path hike. Literally. The hike had no path - it was essentially a series of fallen rocks with a few ladders nailed in here and there. If you don't believe me, look at the above photos. It was less of a hike and more of a rock climb, but well worth the journey. I honestly couldn't tell you which I was more afraid of - falling on the sharp rocks or a snake coming out of the many rock crevices. Either way, the latter kept me going the entire way up, despite the heat. In the end, it wasn't even that far to the top - the terrain was what really made it tough - and we enjoyed another insane 360 degree view of Vang Vieng. Even the mountain seemed to celebrate our successful climb with a bamboo post and an orange flag fluttering in the wind at the top. We stayed up there for a while, enjoying the view and chatting with two girls who had gone to McGill. One was interested in event planning, so I told her to email me and I would put her in touch with some of my friends at the firm. They were at the beginning of their six month travels and balked at the idea that I was only in Southeast Asia for two weeks. It was a reaction I was becoming accustomed to - most people who journeyed out there with their backpacks stayed out there for a long period of time.

After the hike, we walked another kilometer towards another cave that was recommended to us. Miki's knee was bothering and I was thinking that one test of my coordination was good enough for today, so we decided to turn around and head back. We also wanted to be sure we had enough time to grab a smoothie at The Other Side before out 2 o'clock bus. Even still, the walk back was beautiful and peaceful. We walked through rice fields, past cows and through the woods. I felt so relaxed and let my mind wander - New York doesn't have enough trees and grass, so I inhaled as much fresh air as I possibly could.

After grabbing our smoothies, we headed back to the hostel to catch a van back to Luang Prebang. After the fiasco on the way here, I had very low expectations for the drive back, but it actually was extremely pleasant. Our driver sped through the mountains at a speed that made me actually fasten my seatbelt, but we made the journey in four hours and stopped twice at appropriate gas stations. The drive was beautiful as well - around every bend was another vista featuring rocky mountains, rolling green valleys and little huts fit snugly into the corners of rice fields.

Since we made such great timing, Miki and I had time to shower and relax before grabbing dinner. I wore my new elephant pants and we headed out to the night market where we had previously had an incredible all-you-can-fit-onto-one-plate vegetarian buffet dinner for $15 Kip (less than two dollars). In addition, we shared a whole grilled fish, fresh from the Mekong River and stuffed ourselves with one of my favorite meals of the trip. Another stroll through the night market to make sure we weren't missing out on any other fabulous purchases, and we headed back to our room for the night because tomorrow we catch a flight to Chiang Mai, Thailand.

I want to end this post with a bit of history. A sliver of a country tucked between Vietnam and Thailand, the tragic history of Laos is often forgotten. While waiting for our flight the next day, I spent a good amount of time reading the Wikipedia page on The Secret War, also known as the Laos Civil War. America had its finger in that pie the entire time, but since it was a covert operation involving training local H'mong tribes to fight a guerrilla war against North Vietnam and the communists, it is often overlooked. In fact, the US didn't openly acknowledge its involvement in The Secret War until the late 1990's. What began as an uprising against the French and the weak puppet government of the royal crown, quickly became a battle of factions. Local communist groups began to form and were greatly influenced by the North Vietnamese, a faction of neutralists (a middle ground between the communists and the Royal government) became too divided to become anything other than a splinter group, and a US-backed royal army was on the brink of collapse, leaning on the West like a crutch. Of course, the US's intentions weren't so pure - they used Laos as a playing piece in the Vietnam War and the larger Cold War against Russia and China. In fact, the US dropped more bombs on Plain of Jars, an archeological site that was utilized by the North Vietnamese as part of their guerrilla tactics, than they dropped in all of World War II. Today, there are still many unexploded bombs buried around Plain of Jars that the Lao government is working with the UN to have removed.  Everyone knows the Ho Chi Minh Trail ran along Lao's eastern border during the Vietnam War, but most people don't know how much the country suffered for something they had little control over. The North Vietnamese exercised so much power over Laos that, even with the US's help, there was no way the country was going to be democratic. In fact, during one battle, the Royal Army dropped their weapons and fled. Meanwhile, the CIA was training local H'mong people to fight the communists. The communists had plans to kill the H'mong people and seize their land. This, sadly, became an eventual reality that even a US/Thai evacuation by airplane couldn't stop. Once the US pulled out, realizing it was a war they would never win, the communists took full control, eventually seizing private property and committing a horrible genocide - one that is often overlooked - against the H'mong people as revenge for supporting the the West. Whoever managed to flee, ended up as refugees in neighboring Thailand and the US, who resettled around 200,000 of the H'mong people.

This history only skims the surface of what is a rich and largely unknown past. If you ever visit Laos, which I encourage you to do - it is beautiful and full of culture - be sure to take the time to read up on the country's brief history. It'll only enhance an already meaningful experience.

The One Where I Found a Friends Bar and Never Wanted to Leave

February 17

If Luang Prebang is a cultural hub, rich with Buddhist tradition, French architecture and artisanal charm, then Vang Vieng is its beautiful, washed-up little sister struggling to overcome an alcohol-and-drug-infused past. Depending on your predisposition, Vang Vieng is either your worst frat party come true or a particularly sloppy Thursday night at Skeeps. Even though this dusty city seems to have been established to fuel the alcoholic ventures of backpackers and other young foreigners, if you venture only a few kilometers out, the rocky cliff-like mountains and natural greenery almost make up for the booze fest going on downtown.

In the past decade, local officials have cracked down on tubers who would become belligerent at river-side bars, trip on acid and then accidentally drown. Only two bars are open at any given time, and the use of any kind of drug - even weed - results in strict consequences and fines. Looking for a more active experience, Miki and I opted for kayaking over tubing. Our late arrival the night before resulted in a late start that morning and only a half-day kayaking trip was available. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it was only the two of us and a guide who was quite the jokester and had an affinity for singing Bruno Mars (and by singing I mean repeating the two lines of the one song he actually knew). After a bumpy ride in a Tuk tuk (which is basically a glorified pickup truck with benches in the bed), we unloaded and began our journey downriver.  The weather couldn't have been more beautiful as we paddled down the Nam Song River at a relaxing pace. Miki insisted we were "professional kayakers" so we opted for a boat of our own and a ride down the "rapids," which were actually only a series of rocks that barely rippled the water. Through his broken English, we learned that our guide was twenty-two and was one of four. He primarily listened to Thai music, but enjoyed Sam Smith (we think that was the artist he was repeating to us).

We stopped at one of the two bars open on the river. You could tell how the river used to be a party place by the number of closed down river-side buildings with old Pepsi and Beerlao posters. At first, there was no one there except for a dozen of middle-aged Korean tourists getting drunk on beer and dancing awkwardly to Gangham Style. Eventually, though, some younger people arrived, making the age gap a little less obvious. Miki and I collectively had only brought $20,000 Kip (which is around $2.25) thinking we'd get one drink each. Turns out, the prices were a little higher than we anticipated, so we bought a large Beerlao to share (Beer #2 on this trip. Man, am I an animal or what?) As soon as we had our beer, the owner of the bar shoved two puppies into our hands. They were so adorable but clearly were terrified, shaking so uncontrollably that I put mine down on a ledge where he proceeded to poop. Yup. Literally scared the shit out of a puppy. Later, when I was sipping my beer and Miki was playing makeshift volleyball with some Croatians, a guy in a Spider-Man costume handed me another puppy while simultaneously trying to get me to play beer pong with him and asking if I had a boyfriend. When I told him I had no more money for beer, he walked away. So much for the romance we could have had. Instead, I fell in love with the little yellow ball of fur that slept in my lap and cuddled with me until it was time to go. While Puppy was napping, I met three nice Koreans who were on break from University. They loved the puppy, but didn't want to hold her, so instead opted to take selfies with me holding the puppy. Somewhere on the Internet are a series of photos of me looking slightly confused holding Puppy up like Rafiki holds Simba in The Lion King.

After the bar, we paddled to some caves, which, frankly, I wasn't such a fan of. As you can imagine, someone with a predisposition for falling on flat land and who has trouble climbing down from top bunks shouldn't be trekking over rocks in the dark. Plus, that one beer was probably clouding my judgement. Either way, thanks to my headlamp, I made it out alive. Back in the kayaks, we paddled downriver to Vang Vieng, passing the Koreans for a quick selfie and splashing some lazy tubers (that was more our guide - he LOVED splashing, be it us or other random tourists trying to enjoy the lazy river). After kayaking and a quick late lunch/early dinner at an Israeli-reviewed dive (their falafel was not "metzuyan," in case you were wondering), we walked over to Earth Bar, a bar on the edge of the river made entirely of recycled materials. Had it not been for the mosquito who found me particularly tasty that evening, the sunset would have been divine. Miki and I sat in silence (aside from me slapping myself to get the mosquitoes to leave me alone), watching the sun dip behind the mountains.

Once the sky had darkened, we headed over to Sakura Bar - possibly the most popular bar in all of Southeast Asia based on the sheer number of Sakura Bar T-shirts I have seen everywhere. A friend of Miki's from year course worked there and we wanted to check it out and say hi. Oddly enough, the bar was full of middle-aged Koreans (apparently Vang Vieng is like Miami for Koreans) and only some backpackers (it was still pretty early, though). It was free whiskey shot hour and for 20,000 Kip (around $2.25) you could buy a balloon full of laughing gas to get high on.  I knew it was easy to get prescription drugs in Southeast Asia (no prescription needed), but this must have required some kind of dentist office robbery.

After Sakura Bar we wandered over to the one place I had been desperate to visit since we walked past it after kayaking - the Friends bar. Yes, there is a bar in Vang Vieng that only plays Friends. On a loop. From opening till closing. The mothership was essentially calling me home. All the booths in the front of the restaurants face the TVs and have cushions so you can really get comfy. I ordered some noodles, Miki got a killer dairy-free banana smoothie and that is how the two of us raged in Laos' most notorious party town.

Buddha and the bumpy road

February 16

Michigan's worst post-winter pothole-filled roads couldn't have prepared me for the journey from Luang Prebang to Vang Vieng. Whoever's in charge of Laos's roads makes the Michigan DOT look like the paradigm efficiency and effectiveness. It didn't help that the driver and three Lao men sitting in front of me stopped to pee off the side of the road every ten minutes for the first hour.  Despite this, however, our driver somehow managed to maneuver the potholes, sharp "S"-shaped curves and steep inclines with the casual grace of drag racer. By the time we reached Vang Vieng that night (after a thirty minute dinner break for the Lao men at 11 PM - we did not know this would be a part of our trip until they got out of the van and started eating noodle soup), it was well after midnight. And then we got lost.

It had been a long day of exploring the temples of Luang Prebang and enjoying the croissants and fruit drinks of the local cafes. Miki and I woke up, had our usually breakfast of greasy eggs and a baguette and headed out to explore the Wats of Luang Prebang. The problem with traveling on a budget is that you can't afford to have a tour guide walking you around the temples, explaining the symbolism of each gold-flecked Buddha and temple. Thanks to the digital age, Wikipedia has an abundance of answers to any and all of our questions and proved to be especially helpful when I wanted to know more about the history of Laos and The Secret War.

We started our temple trek with Mt. Phou Si at the very top of Luang Prebang. 326 steps up where a beautiful 360 degree view awaited us. The temples at the top of Phou Si were filled with the traditional Buddha relics covered in gold foil and alters decorated with orange and pink flowers. Further down the mountainside, a giant sleeping Buddha accompanied a "stop arguing" Buddha of equal size, and below him, my personal favorite, fat Buddha. Back on the streets of the city, we visited three more temples, each with more Buddha statues, slopped roofs and gold and red detail than the next. At my favorite temple, a mosaic of the tree of life decorated the backside of one wat , reminding me that different religions aren't so different from one-another after all. Eventually, we became templed-out and decided to take a seat at a local French cafe recommended to us by Miki's Lonely Planet book. The ice cream and croissants were delicious, but we stuck around after to do a bit more reading and blog writing.

Eventually, it was time to head back to the hostel for our pickup. What began as an innocent Tuk-Tuk ride to the bus station, quickly turned into an hour-long delay with some of the most sweet but uptight travel companions. After ensuring our bags were, indeed, strapped to the roof, we piled into the very hot van and started our journey to Vang Vieng. Six hours and five pit-stops later (including the thirty minute aforementioned dinner stop), we arrived at Vang Vieng. I practically kissed the ground when I got out of the van; I had never been more excited to fall asleep in a hostel bunkbed. Unfortunately, our journey took another hour as an unplanned detour to the wrong hostel was followed by confusing map directions. My first impression of Vang Vieng was not a good one - drunk foreigners overflowing into the streets outside a local bar, a bunch of street food merchants selling said drunk foreigners sandwiches and crepes. A tear-stained Dutch girl offered to give us directions to our hostel, but she was too drunk to remember which way to point us. I was exhausted, sweaty and sticky from a long day in the hot sun and an even longer night bouncing around in the backseat of a tourist van. Finally, a drunk Israeli named Yuval (or as his friends apparently called him, "River") came to our rescue. Leave it to the Israelis to hold their liquor the best. We found our hostel, I jumped into the shower (not after spending a good fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to turn the water on) and my head finally hit the pillow at 2:15, the latest I had gone to bed in a long time.

Hell yeah, we're tourists!

February 14 & 15

Luang Prebang taught us not to judge a city by the number of tourists who wander the night market nor the number of street vendors who speak English. Sometimes, touristy isn't such a bad thing, and though Laos has the most underdeveloped tourism industry of the three countries we visited, Luang Prebang had its own ubiquitous, touristy charm.

Our flight was very uneventful except for a blonde, Christian girl who insisted having a Jewish boyfriend was the best and if they ever broke up, she would definitely join JDate (or JewDate, as she called it). After landing in Laos and getting settled at our hostel, we headed out to explore the city. Set on seeing temples, we followed the sound of drums - a 4 o'clock ritual calling for alms - and peeked around taking a few discreet photos as the sun dipped behind the ornately carved temple. Walking a little further down the street, we found another temple, similar in layout and decor, and wandered in there as well. The number of temples in Luang Prebang is somewhere upwards of sixty and we realized we could spend days strolling in and out of the beautiful, peaceful plazas. So, we headed to a nearby hostel to book tours to the Buddha caves and the Kuong Si Waterfall, as well as a van to Vang Vieng for later in the week. The woman at the hostel recommended we go watch the sunset over the river, so we hurried over and sat on the levee just in time to watch the orange sun dip behind the pink and blue mountains. A beautiful sight, indeed. Our journey through the night markets of Southeast Asia began as I bartered for my first pair of elephant pants (I'm terrible at bartering, I might add. I always end up either feeling bad and backing down or getting very angry and embarrassing myself). Upon purchasing them, I was skeptical of their practicality, but after slipping them on that night, I became a believer. They are truly the most lightweight, comfortable pair of pants I have ever owned.

The following day began with an early morning - and a plate of greasy eggs and baguettes. It was foggy and cool when we arrived at the river to take a skinny, wooden "slow boat" to the Buddha caves (also called the Pak Ou Caves). The Buddha caves are a series of caves with Buddha relics scattered throughout . While the boat ride was lovely (and slightly freezing) the caves were nothing short of boring and mobbed with tourists trying to take pictures in the dark by pointing their flashlight at the Buddha statues and snapping a blurry picture without the flash. The view of the mountains from inside the caves, though,  was really nice, and I managed to take a few quality pictures. Even still, the caves were so mobbed with tourists, it was hard to appreciate the beauty and even harder to read the plaques explaining the hundred-year-old history.. On the way back, we stopped at a "whiskey village," which is basically a tourist term to describe a small village where Lao whiskey is made. They also had an interesting kind of rice wine that tasted like Manischevitz, which the Korean ladies on our boat loved.

What turned out to be one of my favorite afternoons of the entire trip, began with low expectations for the Kuong Si Waterfalls. I assumed they would be as touristy as the caves. I braced myself for disappointment and crowds of foreigners taking photos with their selfie sticks. But once we arrived at the waterfalls, the turquoise tranquillity was so spectacular that it was easy to ignore the crowds (which weren't even so terrible, to be honest). In total, there were five pools, each more incredible than the last. The final waterfall was about forty feet high and absolutely beautiful. No swimming allowed, but Miki and I climbed over the barrier fence to get a better photo. After a series of waterfall selfies, we were finally hot enough to to jump into the pools. We started at the first pool, which was the most mellow. Though there were a lot of people at the waterfall, few seemed interested in swimming, so we had the entire pool to ourselves. It took some coaxing, but Miki finally dunked her head and swam over to the waterfall with me. Because of the limestone, the water is a pure blue-green and the falls are cool and refreshing. It was truly a gem of a tourist spot, and I was so happy to be amongst my fellow foreigners.

On the van ride back, we chatted with a girl from Oregon who was traveling alone. She was between teaching jobs and told us about a classroom in downtown Luang Prebang where youngsters between the ages of seventeen and twenty four come to practice their English. Some were monks, some were local university students. Before I left for my trip, my aunt recommended a school that her and her husband visited where they spoke with monks in English. She didn't tell me the name, but I had spent all of the previous day asking the tour agents and hostel owners about a school where you could talk to monks. No one knew what I was talking about, but it turns out, this classroom, called Big Brother Mouse is the exact place she recommended to me. When we got back to town, Miki and I rushed over to Big Brother Mouse in our wet bathing suits, eager to be a part of this incredible experience.

We immediately broke off - I began speaking with a couple of monks who had excellent English and was later joined by another local high school kid whose English was fluent as well. Miki spoke with a few boys who had rocky English and spent her time going over confusing English terms, such as "there, their and they're", the spelling of certain words with silent letters, and past participles, a term we weren't even totally sure of ourselves. When my aunt mentioned she was incredibly inspired by these boys, she wasn't exaggerating. The two monks I talked to had lofty aspirations. One in particular, Ho, was in the process of applying to Vassar. He showed me a hand-written draft of his personal statement, and I was immediately impressed. His essay discussed frequent misconceptions about the Lao economy - he noted how tourism was growing and people were slowly aspiring towards better educations. He continued  by discussing his passion for economics and business and how being a monk has helped him gain the traction he has needed to make this happen. He asked me about Barak Obama, and told me how he practices his English by listening to the president's speeches on YouTube. "He's a good speaker," Ho said to me. "He's an inspiring speaker," I agreed, teaching him the new word, which he wrote down in his notebook. "Maybe you can add that to your personal statement," I suggested.

Ho and his friend briefly explained how the education in Laos was weak - but improving - and how you needed to pay to go to school. Healthcare, however, was free and provided by UNESCO, the organization that helps Laos preserve many of its temples and world heritage sites. He impressed me by asking about the presidential election - "who is the red faced man with the twisted mouth?" He asked. "He's always angry when compared to Hillary Clinton." I laughed at his description of Donald Trump. I asked what the voting age in Laos was - eighteen, they answered. When were elections? Ho opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it. We aren't allowed to talk about the government. Why? Because you're monks? I asked. No because Laos is communist. Of course, I realized, as if there wasn't a communist flag waving on every corner. We talked about soccer, football and basketball - the boys loved LeBron James, which led to us walking over to the large map of the country and me pointing out Miami, Cleveland and Detroit. I told them about one of my favorite podcasts, the TED Radio hour, after hearing that they loved to listen to TED talks. I asked them about their lives - they were both novice monks, who had been at their temples for ten years each. At the age of twenty, they would be able to become monks, but Ho was hoping to leave the temple before then to go to Vassar. I told him if he continued practicing his English, writing in his blog about being a monk (in my excitement I forgot to ask for the blog link!) and staying focused, I had no doubt he would succeed and add much diversity (another new word for him) to campus. Both of these boys lived far from their families and their villages, but knew that being monks would provide them with the best possible education. Considering Laos is one of the most corrupt countries in the world, contributing to a third of the population being below the poverty line, these boys were an ember of hope in the tragic ashes of Laos, which I learned more about later that week thanks to my digital tour guide, Wikipedia.

The only disappointment was the lack of girls at Big Brother Mouse. There was only one who spent most of her time sitting in the corner reading a middle-grade English book. I encouraged her to come chat with us, but she was very shy and her English was choppy. I guess it's expected for women in these countries to be afforded less opportunities than their male counterparts, but I can only hope that one day these girls will be able to receive the same level of education as the monks. Even though women can't become monks, they cannot and should not be held to the expectations of marriage and children, which I learned, many are. If anything, it made me appreciate the opportunities I've been given as an American. I was certain few of these girls even knew that there were well-educated women in positions of power out there in the world.

Vietnam Goodbyes

February 13

A two-part day, we began today with an early morning kayak excursion through Ha Long Bay and ended with a few scoops of overpriced ice cream along the lake in Hanoi. A perfect way to say goodbye to Vietnam. 

Josh and Jake woke up early to see the sunrise. Miki and I weren't convinced it was worth the 6 AM call time, but Jake dragged Josh for a whole eight minutes before the two realized they were the only young people on the sun deck, and decided to return to sleep. It wasn't as beautiful as the sunset, they reported to us over breakfast of fried pancakes and overcooked eggs (note: the cruise chef loves deep-friend things - spring rolls, fries, fried fish, and apparently fried pancakes). After breakfast, we headed out to kayak in pairs. We didn't have too much time, which was a shame, but it was beautiful and peaceful nonetheless. Even though the sea was crowded with tour boats, there was something very serene about the silence of the islands, the sun and the sea. I breathed in the fresh air and it reminded me of camp - kayaking through the Apostle Islands in Wisconsin. 

After kayaking, we packed up, turned in our keys and went up to the sundeck to relax and chat with our British and Irish friends - talking about everything from differentiating accents to socialized healthcare (they're all dietitians for the National Health Service, which is their government health agency and they were explaining to me why they disliked the UK's healthcare so much...another conversation for another blog post). I may have mentioned this yesterday, but none of them had been to the US and were all fascinated by our way of life. Sophie was heading to New York at the end of the month, so I gave her a few recommendations, and the conversations started rolling from there (Snipets: "Is everyone in LA beautiful and on a juice cleanse? What's Miami like?) Soon after, our cruise director called for all those who were doing a three-day-two-night trip to head to another boat. Maddie groaned, saying she'd have to find another group of cool people to hang out with for the rest of the trip. We all nodded in agreement, saying the feeling was mutual, but it was a pleasure getting to know them nonetheless. Being social and making new friends was certainly an achievement to be proud of.

I caught up on some blogging while the others headed down to watch a cooking demonstration, and after lunch, we journeyed back to Ha Long Bay City, and piled onto buses. Back to the tourist trap shop for a way-too-long pit stop, and finally, after three and a half hours, we arrived back in Hanoi. Miki and I went back to the hotel we booked the tour through to pick up our bags, and the owner was kind enough to offer us a room at discount. We told her we totally would have but had already booked at another hostel, and thanked her for her kindness and hospitality. We got situated at our new hostel, which was actually a dorm-style room at the top of a hotel, and caught up with the Internet and iMessage. Time got away from us quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to meet Josh and Jake for dinner. The four of us walked to the heart of the tourist market to find some mediocre and overpriced food (we all were hoping to get rid of our Vietnamese Dong). The experience was certainly worth it, as the area was packed with all walks of life, people squatting on those tiny stools again by the dozens, eating their hotpots and pho. Stores had opened their doors and were selling cheap souvenirs, and we realized that because of Tet, the city really had been shut down. 

We ended the night on the lake, stopping at the ice cream place I noticed the first day Miki and I explored the city. I was disappointed by the ice cream, but thoroughly enjoyed the company and the lake-side view. After saying goodbye to Josh and Jake and thanking them for the wonderful company and the many, many laughs, we headed back to our hostel to pack up and get ready for our time in Laos. 

Vietnam, my dear, you have been fascinating, eye opening and thoroughly lovely. I wish Vietnamese was an easier language to pick up, so I apologize for my brash English, but know that I find you beautiful and hope to return soon. If you're looking for an out-of-the-ordinary travel experience, I highly recommend Vietnam. It so much more than the Vietnam War, Pho and fake North Face products (looking at you, Belinky). It's a country full of generous (and sometimes pushy) people, gorgeous landscapes and countless adventures. 

Coming up next: an exciting and unpredictable journey to Laos. This is the country we know the least about, and we can't wait to get started!

The Not So Boozy Ha Long Bay Cruise

Friday, February 12

If there's anything that makes you appreciate the rock-hard mattresses of Vietnam's favorite hostels, it's sleeping on a set of chairs. That's how Miki and I spent the hours between 3 AM and 7 AM. After a quick six hours on the sleeper bus from Sapa, we hopped into an over-priced cab through the empty streets of Hanoi. The hotel we booked our Ha Long Bay cruise was closed, so the security guard, who was asleep in the dark lobby on a cot, let us in. We set up shop in the back of the hotel behind the kitchen, each using three chairs as a bed. I was certain I wouldn't be able to sleep, but after sitting in the dark for a minute, felt my eyelids droop. Before I knew it I was passed out on the hard chairs, only waking up after the security guard left for the night at 5 AM. I guess when you're that tired you'll sleep anywhere. After the kind hotel owners served Miki and I Lipton tea (the Vietnamese have a thing for Lipton tea) and bananas, Josh and his brother Jake arrived. It was great to see Josh - I think the last time we saw each other was graduation. I introduced them to Miki and the four of chatted for the next thirty minutes (because buses never leave on time in Vietnam). 

The three hour bus ride, broken up by a pit stop at a tourist trap that sold five dollar Pringles (that's expensive, you should know. You can get Pringles for a dollar here), we arrived at Ha Long Bay.  The islands themselves are a geographical phenomenon but the town on the shore is almost like a ghost town. It's kind of reminiscent of those stretches of resorts in Mexico with crisp white, brown shuttered hotels and many unfinished buildings due to a lack of funding. The difference between these empty resorts and the crammed city of Hanoi was astonishing. In the distance, the islands of Halong Bay rose like misshapen green teeth from the gums of the sea . We got off the bus and, naturally, had to wait another thirty minutes to board the cruise boat. Josh and Jake spent the half-hour trying to guess which junky booze cruise ship was ours. We knew not to go too cheap with the boats, so hoped ours wasn't as sketchy as some of these self titled "party boats" were. Thankfully, our middle-of-the-road ship was perfectly appropriate for its price, with rooms on the bottom floor, a dining room and four rooms on the second floor, and a sun deck on top with two more rooms. Since the kind folks at the hotel promised us an upper-deck room, Miki, Josh, Jake and I lucked out. The rooms were cramped and smelled musty, but were clean and had the nicest shower we'd seen thus far. In a cruel twist of fate, these lovely showers were also ice-cold. 

In all, the cruise was my favorite part of Vietnam so far. Not only is Ha Long Bay absolutely incredible (see above pictures), but we befriended four Brits, and an Irish girl. For someone who hates beer, I drank an entire beer - and thoroughly enjoyed it - that's how much fun I was having. I should note that the cruise crew loves upbeat club music. Even though our boat was incredibly mellow and one couple had their small children with them, our cruise staff still blasted the dance music. I haven't heard that much Avicii since Sammy pre games on football Saturdays. Josh and I made the best of it and pretended we were at Rick's. After a tasty lunch on the boat and some incredible views from the sun deck, we made our way, along with every other boat at sea, to an island where we climbed stairs like herded cattle to a series of extremely underwhelming caves. The limestone itself was beautiful and had grooves and ridges that made it look like art, but the caves were so packed with tourists and guides pointing out so called "faces" in the stone, that it was pretty tough to enjoy the beauty. Like anything that has been turned to a tourist Mecca, the caves were disappointing and the view mediocre compared to some of the spectacular vistas we would see later on the sun deck. We returned to the boat for some additional cruising and that's where the fun really started. Josh, Jake, Miki and I chatted with three girls - Sophie and Maddie from England and Charlene from Ireland who were traveling together for a few weeks. The had just arrived from Shanghai and were heading down to Ho Chi Minh City after spending a few days on the bay. They were fascinated by American culture (none of them having been to the country themselves) and we all laughed together over beers, enjoying each other's company thoroughly. Jake decided to be the token daredevil and jump off the sun deck roof when Timmy, our "cruise director" informed us we could swim for the next couple of hours. The sun was starting to set and it was getting chilly, so I initially opted out. What started off as Jake being gutsy, turned into a spectacle as Maddie and Sophie climbed over the banister to jump. Maddie chickened out and spent a good twenty minutes standing terrified while our fellow shipmates ogled and egged her on. Eventually, I decided to change into my swimsuit and try to coax a nervous Maddie to jump. It worked and she jumped in after me, though while I was mid-air I couldn't help thinking about the jellyfish I had seen earlier from my window. Thankfully, there were none hanging around our boat at that time. The best, however, was the sunset. Incredibly stunning with oranges and pinks that dipped behind the jagged islands of Ha Long Bay. 

Dinner and a freezing shower were followed by free beer (as a result of the mutiny, as Josh called it. The reason I titled this blog the not-so-boozy cruise: We were promised 40 L of beer when we all paid - this didn't happen, and our cruise director blamed it on the factory being closed for Tet (no one bought that). Long story short, they gave us each 2 free beers after dinner to compensate after a German complained and showed a picture of her itinerary. Can't keep the Germans from their beer!) drinking games I haven't played since freshman year of college and lots of chatting and getting to know each other. We all forced ourselves to stay up, even though, by eight PM, we were all wiped. At ten, we called it a night after a long conversation about fraternities and sororities where Jake gave a passionate rant about his distaste for fraternities (the Brits were so curious as they don't have such groups at their universities).. Tomorrow, after kayaking and lunch, it's back to Hanoi where Miki and I catch a Sunday morning flight to Laos! More on that tomorrow..

How not to get heckled (and other lessons from Sapa)

February 11

My obsession with rice paddies is growing, guys. It's a bit of a problem. I have so many rice paddy pictures on my phone, I'm not sure which to choose for today's blog post. These tiny pieces of flooded land are so intriguing to look at from afar, but today I got an up-close-and-personal look during our trek in Sapa. To start, let me remind you of the heckling ladies of the H'mong tribe. While we used our hostel to sign up for a trek, this doesn't stop the local ladies from following you the entire trek, sitting on the side of the road throughout lunch and then continuing to hike with you up and down the rice paddies in the afternoon. Our guide, however was only twenty-one and already had been married for four years and had two children. And here I am thinking some of my American friends got married young. She was, though, very sweet and explained to us that most children from her village don't go to school past secondary school (their middle school) because it's too far away in Sapa and too expensive. Her brother, she noted proudly, does go to high school in Sapa, and therefore has to live there too. Her other brother is home taking care of her ill father. We walked through the dusty villages, enjoying the spectacular views and stopping at a small artisan shop to learn how the locals weave the black and colored garb worn by the tribe members. She explained that in order to achieve a shiny look, the material must be pounded between stones, which Miki and I found to be very interesting. 

During lunch, we socialized with our neighbors, Ben and Shamani, who were both British, and had quit their jobs to travel Southeast Asia for six months. Ben, who was clearly a photographer, used to work for a photography magazine and Shamani was interested in fashion design. We all lamented how the arts take a backseat when it comes to being financially successful - the age old dilemma of the "starving artist." It makes sense, though, why so many people choose to travel Southeast Asia after quitting their jobs. Besides being cheap, it's an easy escape from reality - a place where Westerners are a minority and cutlery is traded in for chopsticks. Where Europe and Australia would be too close to reality, Southeast Asia (and perhaps South America as well) read like a surrealist's dream - a place that balances precariously between ancient preservation and modern innovation. 

The afternoon was far more interesting, in my opinion. We began almost immediately hiking on the actual rice paddies themselves. It was pretty muddy, and with my fantastic grace, I managed to slip - without falling - but still enough to make one of the village woman hold my hand and not let go, even when I tugged gently away. It was very sweet of her, but, to be honest, I knew if I fell (which was likely) she was coming with me, as she was most certainly under five feet. We continued our trek, hiking the ridges of the rice paddies and weaving in and out of bamboo forests. The ladies who were following us gave Miki and I these cute hearts made out of ferns and the views of the mountain side were truly breathtaking. The trek itself was a great way to see the valley and the paddies up close. Though I'm sure the weather is brutal, the high season is between July and September when the paddies are aglow with neon green and gold rice plants. Do yourself a favor and type in a quick Google search. Nice, huh? Even on the off season, I still found them to be intriguing without the beautiful colors. 

Naturally, when we reached the end of the trek, near the waterfall, we ran into Israelis. They freaked out because Miki was wearing her Tamarack T-shirt and they noticed Hebrew on the shirt. Our first encounter with Israelis, and, I'm sure, not our last. Another thing that began when we reached the waterfall was the heckling. Oh yes, I had a feeling this was going to happen the minute the tiny old village woman grabbed my hand. "I help you, so you pay me," she said to me. "No," I stated sharply. "I won't." It went on like this for another ten minutes, along with her waving some bracelets and bags in my face. Eventually, I just ran away, leaving her and the other woman to haggle Miki (sorry, Mik!). She's much nicer than I was and I have the pictures to prove it. Once we hiked back up to the road, Miki decided she was going to buy a few bracelets. It was like a swarm of bees at a picnic, as all the women waved their fare in our faces. Miki kept swatting them away, focusing on the original woman she was looking to buy from, but they all kept returning, even after she had made he purchases. 

After our trek, we returned to the hostel and showered. We had already checked out of our room, so we were forced to hang out in the lobby of the building. That was where we met a two year old girl who knew English as well as any American toddler. She was so sweet, and her mom explained how the minute her daughter was born, she was determined to teach her English so that she would be practically native by the time she grew up. The woman was related to the kind ladies who owned our hostel, and she came and left with her daughter a few times. The girl was so adorable, passing out candy to us and pretending to skate like Peppa Pig, her favorite cartoon. Her mother went on to explain to us how hard it was for her to find English books in Vietnam. Amazon, she said, was very expensive with all the overseas shipping fees, and English books were few and far between in her country. I told her that what she was doing was important and that her daughter would thank her one. I suggested e-books and free online stories. This was the first of many times I realized how important books and reading are and how much the Western world takes this for granted. 

At that point in our trip, I was already sick of Pho. Miki wanted to give barbecue another shot, refusing to leave with the memory of chicken feet, so we headed to a barbecue on the other side of town. Except for the sweet potato, I wasn't such a fan. We steered clear of the meat this time, and the corn fritters tasted too sweet for my liking. Eventually, we return to the tourist street and I splurged on a pizza, which was either delicious on its own or tasty because I was desperate for anything made with cheese and sauce. Also, the restaurant had rave reviews from Israelis posted in the window, so of course I was convinced (see photo above). Finally, it was time catch the night bus. A long night is ahead of us, but I know it'll be worth it when I see Josh!

Coming up next: Stories from Ha Long Bay! Stay tuned - I swear I'm going to be better about posting. My blog's website sucks on mobile devices, but I'm going to schedule three posts that I've written now!

Stories from Sapa (Alternatively titled: Diary of an Uncoordinated Girl)

Feb 10 & 11

Editor's note: I'm going to cheat a little with this post and combine two days into one. It'll read much better since Tuesday was mostly a travel day. 

I have a new level of respect for the Vietnamese. They zip through the streets and along highways making it look like riding a motorbike is the easiest thing in the world. It's not. Especially on the crowded, lawless streets of Sapa where getting heckled by local tribal ladies is almost like a right of passage for any tourist. I gave up the prospect of motor biking through rice patties pretty quickly once I realized how truly uncoordinated I am when it comes to motorized vehicles. In fact, our entire trip to Sapa was a reminder of how ungraceful I am. No wonder all  those years at Annette and Company never came to anything. 

We started an early morning with a sleeper bus during the day time. I had heard so much about these mysterious sleeper buses - vehicles that simply must be illegal by US codes - but I was truly unprepared for the small-sized people they were manufactured to fit. I just barely fit into the cubby hole and, considering I have as much grace a an elephant, struggled to climb off the top bunk while the bus was moving. The road to Sapa could be rebranded and sold as the Road to Hana: Vietnam. In Maui, a very similar road - also narrow and winding - climbs up a mountain side to lead to the tourist destination of Hana. In Vietnam, the sleeper bus whizzed and whirred around corners, nearly taking out every motorbike in its path with a nasty blast of the horn. To be fair, the Vietnamese use the horn to announce their presence to vehicles in front of them, behind them and those not even close to them. 

I was so focused on not falling off the top bunk after each twisty turn that I hardly had a chance to notice how incredibly breathtaking Sapa was. Green mountains rose from the ground with jagged ridges outlined against the fog of the valley below. Stripes of rice paddies were combed into mountainsides and small villages and shacks dotted the landscape. It was incredible. We walked with our packs through town towards our hostel, receiving our fist heckling experience as soon as we stepped off the bus. For the women of the Black H'mong tribe, heckling is a culture necessity. An obligation, I suppose. To the average tourist it is incredibly annoying. Not only do they try to sell you trekking experiences as soon as you land in Sapa, but they will follow you for miles into town, repeating themselves like broken records until finally you tell them to go away because you're not interested. It took a while, and Miki, who has much more patience for these things than I do had to take the woman's number down, but she finally left us alone. Never again did I answer the "Hello! Where you from?" questions for the rest of my time in Sapa. Because I knew exactly what was going to be coming next. 

Once we arrived at our hostel and got situated (this hostel had a shower head literally in the bathroom), we headed out to find some street Pho and schedule our treks for the next day. We went back to the hostel to shower and organize ourselves, grabbed some dinner and turned in at the hostel at a decent hour.

The next day was when the adventures began. We had planned to rent a motorbike, with me as the designated driver, bike to two waterfalls and then in the afternoon head to this village Miki was told about by a friend. My inability to drive said motorbike, however, threw a wrench in everything, so the lady from the hostel recommended we grab a motorbike taxi from the nearby church. Miki, being the negotiating expert, got us a solid deal and before we knew it we were strapping on our helmets, and weaving through tourists and vans alike towards a mountainside road. Once I saw what I would have had to drive on, I was a relieved an "expert" was at the metaphorical wheel. After nervously gripping the handles of the bike for the first ten minutes, I began to relax and enjoy the exhilaration of riding through the mountains. I never thought I'd understand the appeal of a motorcycle until now. Though, driving down I-75 is hardly the same as exploring rural Vietnam, I imagine the freedom and wind evoke a similar rush. Our drivers dropped us off at the entrance of the waterfall park, and we hiked about an hour to a lovely waterfall in the middle of the woods. The view was scenic the entire time - mountains and green everywhere. You could even seen Fansipan, the highest mountain in Indochina in the distance. We both wanted to do a hike to its summit, but the trek was too long and we didn't have time. I'll be back to do that at some point in the near future. At the waterfall, we discovered the novelty of being American when a handful of Vietnamese tourists insisted on taking numerous pictures and selfies with us. It was kind of unbelievable, and I felt like a celebrity, but we went along with it, if for nothing else other than the fact that the girl was wearing heeled booties on a hike in the woods. 

Back on the bikes, we both were a little more used to the ride and took lots of photos and selfies along the way. The second waterfall was pretty underwhelming, but had a nice overlook. Truthfully, the best part was being on the bikes and we both wished that that part had been longer. Hopefully, next time, I'll be with someone a little more coordinated than myself who has no problem dodging Vietnamese children and tourists. Speaking of Vietnamese children, I was certainly hesitant to get on the back of this random driver's bike, but the sheer number of infants on motorbikes convinced me that I, a grown adult, could in fact ride on the back if these children who hardly had the ability to make a fist could do so. 

After lunch, we hiked to Cat Cat Village, a touristy spot that neither of us felt like paying for, especially since we had a trek planned for the next day. The walk down to the village was well worth it, though, and the views were spectacular, and the hike back up the mountain wasn't half as bad as we thought. Back to the hostel to rest and then in search of some dinner - which proved to be difficult because of the insane number of tourists crowding the streets. And these tourists weren't American or even Western. They were Vietnamese! I guess Sapa is like the Up North of Vietnam, and since it was Tet and most Vietnamese had a week-long vacation, the restaurants and street-side places were packed. We finally found somewhere to grab a quick fried rice and some pop, walked around the main square for a bit and headed back. We both lamented how Sapa didn't have hostels where it was easy to meet others our age. Our hostel was more like a hotel in that it had a lobby and no communal area. Plus, there weren't so many bars, so at night there wasn't much to do besides wander the streets and maybe grab some barbecue from the streets (which we did - Miki ended up eating chicken feet, while asking me where the meat was with every crunchy bite she took). 

Coming up next: trekking adventures through the mountainside and villages outside Sapa. 

Meeting Ho Chi Minh

Monday, February 8

Today, Miki and I experienced our first embalmed body. We didn’t realize it at the time, but Ho Chi Minh was embalmed in a plexiglass case like some kind of rare diamond in a jewelry store. The whole experience happened by accident, to be honest. We had no idea what a mausoleum was. We had no clue what line we were getting into. We had no idea where the red vinyl carpet would lead us. After the fact, I learned from a few others who’ve been around Hanoi that everyone’s first visit to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum is confusing and accidental.

We started the morning off by walking the silent streets of Hanoi. It was kind of unnerving considering just a mere eight hours before, the streets were packed with hundreds of thousands of people waiting for a firework show. Because of Tet, the Vietnamese New Year, people return home for the holiday so everything is silent. We both enjoyed crossing the street without feel like we were in a real-life game of Frogger and took in the architecture of the government buildings and consulates, occasionally running into a fellow tourist and nodding a hello. After a quick photo op at the Lenin statue, we headed to Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum. Considering how run down and tightly stacked the buildings in Hanoi are, the monuments, memorials and government buildings are immaculate and awe-inspiring. Off of a big stretch of road that you could call the 1600 Pennsylvania of Hanoi (except no traffic allowed), we came to the mausoleum - a large square building made of stone, surrounded by another stone wall, monitored by guards in white uniforms walking back and forth. We were instructed to fall into a single-file line - no stopping and no pictures. We figured we were being escorted closer to the building, but instead found ourselves being let into the building - just in time for the changing of the guards (exactly like Buckingham Palace, except without the black fuzzy hats). The red vinyl carpet we walked on led through the lobby - which frankly, I don’t even recall because I was so focused on the guards in white - then up a set of stairs and finally into this memorial room. The room was dark and dimly lit, and there Ho was. Shiny and embalmed. No talking. No picture-taking. Just a stroll through. No stopping either. A couple of people bowed to Ho with their hands pressed together as if they were doing the Buddhist version of Hail Mary. Four guards surrounded the giant plexiglassed Ho and the wooden slab he was mounted on. It was over before we knew it and we both stumbled outside, blinking with utter and total confusion. It was closer in likeness to the Western Wall than the Lincoln Memorial. Afterwards, we wandered the surrounding grounds and stopped into the Ho Chi Minh museum. Once again, the museum essentially worshiped Ho, giving little background or history. It was nothing like the historical museums one encounters in America or Europe. Full of symbolic sculptures and displays that were supposed to be representative of Ho’s prowess and resistance, the museum, like the mausoleum, read more like a place of worship. Endearingly called “Uncle Ho,” Ho Chi Minh’s ideals were glorified and his distasteful policies ignored. There was little substance to the narrative the museum was trying to tell, but it gave an interesting perspective into the way many Vietnamese viewed their leader and their country. Even though there are some total loons running for president, it’s reassuring that we can voice our frustrations with said loons publicly and comically. Because anyone who didn't worship Ho and his ideals was essentially erased from Vietnam’s public history.

Afterward, we stopped for a quick Wi-Fi break to book our plane tickets to Laos, where I got into a heated conversation with Capital One after they restricted my card even though I had warned them of my travels. It resulted in me shouting at a customer service rep in the middle of the palace plaza. Thankfully, the shouting helped, all was resolved, and Mik and I got a nice shot together in front of the palace.

I should preface lunch by saying in Hanoi, the best places to get authentic Vietnamese food - the places where the locals flock - are the sketchy, street-side marts with nothing more than a hot plate and some plastic mini stools so tiny in size, only a toddler can sit on them. Miraculously enough, however, the Vietnamese crouch at these tiny doll-sized tables eating their Pho and chatting with one another over beer (another thing to note - beer in Vietnam is literally cheaper than water. Cans of beer cost a little over 50 cents, bottles of water cost about a dollar). Miki and I opted for tables that we could actually sit at, ordering Pho and, in my case, loading it with spice. We began a lively conversation with the two folks sitting to our right - both Chinese - a gentleman who lived in Geneva and a lady from Hong Kong. When they mentioned Geneva,  naturally the conversation turned towards skiing. They both were well-travelled and when they heard we were going the Chiang Mai, got excited. The gentleman said he was traveling there shortly to visit his sister, who owned an organic farm that catered to the palace in Phuket. He told us we had to visit her farm and gave Miki his email so that she could get in touch with him after I left. He insisted on her staying there for a couple nights and I told her I’d head over there with her on my last day to see if the farm, was in fact, legit. The lady made me promise I’d visit China on my next trip, and we left exchanging emails.

We spent the afternoon scouring hotels and travel agencies for the best cruise deal for Ha Long Bay. We finally found a promising cruise and are planning to meet up with my friend Josh and his brother. Really looking forward to it!

As the sun went down, we wandered around the lake. The early morning quiet of Hanoi completely dissipated and in came the crowds of people dressed in their best suits and dresses taking pictures with their families and wandering the streets of Hanoi. Small children with balloons, young women with selfie sticks and more infants on motor bikes than I ever believed possible (this would later serve as the my reasoning for getting on the back of a motorbike myself). As people began to leave the city (the sheer number of motorbikes made it feel like we were in an episode of Sons of Anarchy), Miki and I found dinner at an excellent Indian restaurant and turned in early that night - me, incredibly jet-lagged and sleep deprived.

Tomorrow, we head to Sapa for a few days before returning to Hanoi and heading out to Ha Long Bay.

Phrase of the day: Chuc Mung Nam Moi means Happy New Year in Vietnamese!

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My Flight in Numbers

Sunday, February 7

Today wasn’t even a day, to be honest. In my 21 hour journey I completely lost track of time - it’s quite disorienting. This post is mostly to announce my reunion with Miki. But I also want to note the surreal feeling of being a minority. I really realized I was an outsider when they gave me a how-to-eat-a-Bibimbop pamphlet on the plane. 

After some confusion at the airport (including me being filmed during immigration for what I'm guessing is a pro-government commercial of sorts) we found each other, found our driver and headed to our hostel. Hanoi is unlike any other city I’ve ever seen before. Smoggy beyond belief with tightly cramped streets, and drivers that make NYC cabbies look like overly-cautious newly-licensed sixteen-year-olds. But incredible in its own right, I discovered, staring in awe at the fireworks the city put on in honor of the New Year. The streets swelled with thousands of people, and Miki and I took it all in - me stupidly wearing flip-flops in the dirty streets of Hanoi. Rookie mistake #1. I’m sure there will be many more of those. Also, as I flew from Seoul to Hanoi, the skies below in China sparkled with hundreds of thousands of firework shows in honor of the Lunar New Year. They flickered across the grid in reds and golds. A pretty warm welcome from Southeast Asia, I must say. 

The hard numbers:
# of travel hours: 21
# of movies watched 3
# of plane Bibimbops: sadly, only 1
# of hours of plane sleep: 2.5
# of out-the-window photos taken: 3
# of bunk beds in this room: 4
# of showers with no doors in this hostel: 2
# of times I’ve smiled since I got here: I don’t think I can count that high

Reunion under the Tet firework show

A Little Intro from JFK Airport

To begin this blog post, an important public service announcement: I finally got my Springsteen tickets. Great seats. Normal price.  Must be a good sign for the adventure that lays ahead.

If you've made it this far, you've probably either clicked the link on Facebook or sent me a money belt (Hi dad!). Either way, welcome! Oddly enough, I've never been the journal-writing type. I get too distracted and lazy. I know, I know, I'm the world's worst wanna-be writer. But, now that we're in the digital age, I've decided to record this adventure online. They say the internet never forgets, so I'm banking on that and the fact that I won't get any hand cramps writing this.

How this will work: I will try to write every day. By setting this overly-ambitious, borderline-impossible goal, I hope to absorb every memory I make into the written word. Whoever started the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" clearly loved to over-share on social media. Without words, most of us would forget the significance of that tree, or temple or dish of pho. Words bring photos to life and photos help words tell they're story. They're the perfect couple.  So, while I'm not going to Instagram our hostel or the taxi, I'll be sure to include some of my favorite visual snippets from our trip as well. While I will work to keep up with my writing-every-day expectations, I can't guarantee I'll have WiFi every day, so some days you may see double or triple posts. Whenever I get WiFi, I'll be sure to post the link on my Facebook profile, but feel free to check back here just in case.

This blog will also supplement my travel buddy Miki's (see above photo) email updates, though it will contain far fewer endearingly obvious typos. Feel free to comment below (especially with recommendations!), share with friends and family, and show those over the age of 65 how to find this on the internet. Thanks to everyone who made this possible! First stop Seoul: for some Hello Kitty gear, then off to Hanoi, Vietnam where I hear the Asian New Year is in full swing. Can't wait to immerse myself in an incredible culture and celebrate the Lunar New Year! Hope you enjoy my ramblings and notes.

-A