David and Karen Journey – DNKJOURNEY

David and Karen said goodbye to Carl and Julie and went further north, near the Thai-Burma border for some additional mountain trekking, but we used horses instead.  The very north is primarily agricultural, tea plantations.  We stayed at a farm stay which was right in the middle of the plantation.  The view out of our window was fantastic – so much so, we were compelled to share it.

We made arrangement to go horseback riding and should have been suspicious when we were the only two people signed up.  But no, common sense is lost when adventures are calling.  The adventure probably started when we noticed there were no reins, just a clothes line tied to ONE side, so things like commands were a joke.  The fact that the stirrups were tied with a big knot (more clothes line) the knot could rub into your shin easier that way and leave bruises.

Off we go, first one way then the other, stopping to eat grass, then running like the dickens because the guide had a large stick.  Remember there is only one rein, so if you pull (trying to stop the horse), you only drive yourself back to the other side of the road.  Four hours later, we took less than six pictures, because we could not arrange the animal to be still for more than 10 seconds.  But it was pretty; you just have to take our word for it.

We only saw one tribal lady, in town, who was laughing at us trying to control our trusty steeds.  Sometimes adventures just turn out that way.

We did try and plan some festivals during the trip.  We succeeded with the Thailand Flower Festival which is a big deal for the country.  Think the rose bowl parade, but you get to be just inches away, and the floats are made from the flowers that grow here.  Each tribe, from the different parts of the country come and highlight the flowers from their region and of course their traditional costumes.

We could fill the page with a hundred pictures, 3 hours of snapping and all the colors beckoned the shutter bug in all of us.  Severe editing only permits a quality sampling.  It was fun, and a festival atmosphere extended into the evening with traditional dance, and music on a large stage.  Sort of like a concert in the park.  All in all, a lovely way to sample a unique cultural event.

I can remember a long, long time ago, reading a book, filled with exotic places and pictures, and saw these women wear brass rings on their necks, and their name was Karen!  How exciting.   From that day I have wanted to meet the Karen people.  Mission accomplished.

The weight of the brass rings on the woman’s neck pushes down the collar bone and upper ribs, such that, the collar bone is part of the neck.  The neck ring adornment begins when a girl is 5 or 6 years old.  The extra long neck is considered a sign of great beauty and wealth, designed to attract a better husband.  This tribe migrated to Thailand approx 10 years ago, and is Burmese refugees.  Along with the long neck, there is also the big eared Karen, who stretches their ear lobe with large rings.

Chiang Mai, the largest town in Northern Thailand is the launch point for a huge variety of physical activities.  So let’s go . . .   Our Littleton friends, Julie and Carl (from the Bangkok fame) met us in Chiang Mai.   During a one day tour, we were able to go elephant riding, hike to a waterfall and finally on a raft trip down the Mae Tang river.  It was so much fun.  One of the guides explained that instead of saying Oh My God!! Thailand being a Buddhist nation, use the phrase Oh My Buddha!    OMB for short.    My government self naturally goes:  Office of Management and Budget – Oh my Buddha – no!

The other interesting thing to note is David says crap.  That’s right; you heard it here, CRAP.  Of course, Karen says Ca, so what’s the difference.  If you remember from Laos we explained Sa Wad Dee is hello or welcome.  The same word is used in Thailand but a male uses crap (really spelled krap) at the end of the phrase, and female uses ca.  Hello crap, . . . has a nice ring to it.

Karen zips through the trees having a blast while David stays on terra firma, saying he is afraid of heights.

What is it about elephants that is so charming?  Is it because they are big and gangly, or because they eat using their nose, or perhaps because they have a wonderful smile.   Not sure why, but I think they are grand, and in this trip I got to drive one. You think I jest, but how do you make an elephant go?  You tickle his ears with your toe.  It is rule number one in the elephant drivers handbook.  I tried to pinch her ear but it was not nearly as effective, she just stopped to eat greenery on the side of the trail.

Laos is the land of a million elephants, though their numbers have dwindled down to 2,500 hundred or so.  The book says an estimated thousand still roam free in the jungle.  Today, mostly used for the heavy work of hoisting tourists around, and the lumber industry has moved to machinery.

Daily at dawn, saffron clad monks pad barefoot through the streets while pious townsfolk place tiny balls of sticky rice in their begging bowls.  It’s a quiet meditative ceremony through which monks demonstrate their vows of poverty and humility while lay Buddhists gain spiritual merit by the act of respectful giving.

In line with our amazing good luck, a few hundred monks passed daily directly in front of our guesthouse, and these wonderful towns women were our neighbors.  We would greet each other as we passed,with hands prayerfully folded together near your adam’s apple, bow, and say sah-ba-dee . . .   Welcome.

Laos may become my most favorite country in the world.  Certainly, it is a top pick.

This is the capitol of Laos, and very quiet indeed.  The entire Capitol stretches 20 blocks long and 3 blocks wide along the Mekong River.  We thought it may be nice to catch an original language movie . . .  There is only one movie screen in the city.  Not one theatre with multiple screens but one screen, and the movie was Thai.

There is not much to do here, so we decided to take a few days off, Karen got a good book, David got a good bike.  Massages are $5 per hour which is a decadent way to spend and afternoon (or three) and we enjoyed our days off rested for the next adventure.

Welcome to the year of the Dragon ! !  Very auspicious.  Bangkok, one of the leading cities to celebrate Chinese New Year, certainly parties in a big way.  We were invited into a hotel by a fellow traveler and the view from the sky bar was tremendous.  All Chinatown and the skyline/river where laid out below you.  New Year’s morning, we had reservations for the lion dance and New Year’s brunch at the Shangri-La, it was perfect.  Lion Dancing outside the front lobby followed by the best brunch I have ever had in my whole life and another afternoon in China town – you couldn’t ask for a better adventure.  And the best part was we did not get lost.  Well, maybe a little lost, but at least we got lost together.

When people travel they have touring or they have adventure . . .  when do you have both?, when your friends from home join you.  Carl and Julie, our friends from Littleton, joined us for the Bangkok portion of the trip.  We took in all the tourist sights: Buddha, palaces, river ferries and shopping.  It was so hot, over 90 degrees and high humidity besides.  It was refreshing to have another couple to bounce off ideas or adventures.  We all decided to go to the weekend market together; it can only be described as 5,000 booths within a 10 acre site and many thousands of people from all cultures.  If one person left the group, just to look around the corner, it is impossible to find your way back again.  We each got lost from each other.  Four people, over 10 acres, each standing still, hoping to run into each other or just have another walk by.  What are the chances?  ZERO!   It took 5 hours; we each had train passes and one by one found our way back to our hotel.  Every time we left the hotel thereafter, the staff giggled and would remind us to “hold hands”.

We were all at the Royal Palace, and this fellow came up to us and said the palace was closed for lunch but he could bring us to a nearby Wat and have us back in plenty of time to see the royal palace before it closed.  Fortunately, we had just read the short write up in our Lonely Planet book, and it the palace was open till 3 and no reference to lunch.  Then I happened to look behind the man and the sign read, “Beware, do not trust wily strangers”.  We said no to his opportunity.  In the airport line, we ran into another couple who “bit” and they said they were hijacked to the other end of the city and never made it to the royal palace at all.  The royal palace is sided in colored glass, blue, gold, rich royal colors.

We leave Cambodia for Thailand.

Benteay Srei, is carved out of pink sandstone and is considered a jewel in the crown of the complex.  Certainly in person, as in pictures, you could see the art style involves much more complex carving which is found in India.   It was built by two Hindu priests to honor Shiva, but finished by a Buddhist king who was inclusive and finally brought peace to the region.  That makes it an important monument, and I am glad it is still there.  We bicycled the complex on the second day and enjoyed the slower pace . . . . Dave chatting it up with this cute little girl, or waiting as a herd of water buffalo crossed the road, and most importantly, stopping off at Swenson’s Ice Cream for a little treat.

This has been a pretty intense history lesson, there has to be a national geographic documentary that fills in my gaps, the complex certainly deserves the exposure.

The temple complex here in northern Cambodia was built when it served as the seat of government between the 9th and 14th centuries.  Built under a succession of kings, the temples praised their gods (Hindu or Buddhist), served as a cremation location or commemorated a war victory.  Differing styles, materials and attention to detail would mark a stable time in a king’s reign.  The workmanship was also markedly different if the temple was built for a family member . . .  The king’s mother had a wonderful temple, but not nearly as elaborate as the one he dedicated to his wife . . . . smart king.  Whereas the five spire massive complex with the intricate carving galleries portraying their victories was a royal palace/administrative center.

Some were built for the people, Angkor Thom, the one with the faces, has 54 spires with the faces watching over from all perspective . . . . .  north, south, east and west. There were 54 provinces in the Khmer province at the time.

Near the end of the 14th century, the capital was fighting with Thailand, and the leadership moved from the northwest to the southeast near today’s Phnom Penh.  The jungle overtook the complex and it was rediscovered in the early 1900’s.  Restoration is ongoing everywhere.

We have been asked several times to join the photo groups of people we don’t even know.  The pattern is women from South Korea.  So now we are into it . . . . We get their pictures in a return and when we see each other in town, it is like a long lost family reunion. Between that and the peace sign you may hesitate posing with us, we will try to understand.

This is a world heritage site, and on our list of the wonders of the world.

The capital city of Cambodia is lovely and calm if it is compared to Vietnam.  The population of the whole country is twice the population of Saigon.  So things are cleaner and infrastructure easily supports the people.  The Khmer people are very proud of Angkor Wat, the temple complex is on their flag, and the national museum, holds the centuries of history that is the heart of their culture.  We like Cambodians very much, they ask if you are interested in a tuk or a restaurant but it is good natured rather than the more desperate tone of Vietnam.  The Royal Palace is spectacular, the iron work for the gates was just as beautiful.  We wander thru a pagoda and saw the area set up for a large event.  We found out that the monks had invited 100 families in to receive food baskets for the upcoming new year.  We asked if we come observe, it was a big deal . . . The mayor of Phnom Penh came and the “king of the monks” co hosted this celebration.  Each family got a sack of rice and what looked like soy sauce since this upcoming week is such a big celebration here.

In the evening we look for some cultural show, and we found this group of street kids who are recreating Khmer dance, a former Cambodian dancer returned after the Kkmer Rouge killed all educated people in the name of communism between 1975 and 1980.   Many artists and teachers died and as a result the arts have been just now recovering.   It was a good time.

As usual though, our best experience was out on the bikes, we were riding in the country side, stopped at a pagoda to rest.  This young man (with monk) said he was coming to pay alms and asked if we would like to join him . . .    The monk is his brother so his family brings food to the monastery daily.  We were later invited by that monk to tour their pagoda which was being repainted, the pictures tell the story of a Cambodian poem, at least that is what I think he said.  They were so welcoming and gracious, and we always feel like the best memories belong to these spontaneous situations the bicycling affords us to have.

 

Lots of our time here is spent on everyday life.  I thought about taking a minute and showing just those every day things that aren’t as splashy . . .   like our typical hotel room in a 3 star hotel not western hotel.  Breakfast is always included, and the buffet is multi national, so there’s is always rice, and soup for Asians, meat for Europeans and eggs for westerners.

The power poles and the telephone poles are amazing, I can’t imagine how they can figure out which belongs to who.  And the streets are only wide enough for two cars, so the sidewalks are used for parking. There is a real hierarchy, pedestrians give way to bikes, who give space for scooters, who move over for cars and buses.  All with lots of beeping, and in Cambodia add the tuk tuk to vehicle options.  At least both of us and our luggage fit in one.  We have begun using the peace sign in some of our pictures, so many Japanese and Koreans use the peace symbol it seems a part of our trip.

We try and take bike rides in the country side, who knows what you might find.  Surely it involves a ferry, and someone who speaks English that wants to practice speaking, and the cutest kids you ever saw . . . We proudly explain we have 5 grand kids it breaks the ice.  It also involves dirt roads, so after one muddy ride when we passed the water buffalo, (the water buffalo always mug for the camera) we found a car wash and gave the bikes a little bath.

The TV here has roughly 5-6 English speaking channels.  One shared by BBC and CNN, HBO and Fox movies, who show mostly older movies or movies with a conservative dress code, a channel which combines Discovery, National Geographic and Animal Channel and finally one that shows Dancing with the stars, American Idol, Hells Kitchen and is aptly called the Diva channel.  We are pretty comfortable, indeed.

The goal was to get out of town and have a good, long workout.  A good, long workout is an understatement.  We got thru town and the road narrowed to the equivalent of a wide sidewalk . . . Enough for two scooters to pass.  This is just what we are looking for, a series of small villages along the Mekong, and each school, or restaurant had chorus of HELLO, HELLO.  I don’t think they have many foreigners come through town.  we are in heaven and go farther and farther.  The path narrows to concrete tiles, more hellos, more kids going home for lunch, we keep going, passing quickly from cobbles to just dirt, and I have no idea how many kilometers we have gone but it has been a couple hours now. We are mountain biking now, on a rocky, washed out path . . . .   far ahead (of course) David stops, he is holding his pedal in his hand?   The threads inside the bike crank had stripped out with the stress of the pedal holding his weight, and the bumpy path.  We forgot that these were not dirt bikes.    No pedal = no way to get home, except walking.

We had seen some ferries, but had no idea were to find them, so we started walking.  David saw some rubber from a tire on the ground, he wrapped it around the pedal threads and shoved it into the crank and it would work for a little bit . . .  Every 1,000 yards it would fail and we would apply another piece of rubber and try and move on.   There are scooters passing us on the path, but with no language skills, we could not explain what we needed.  No one was blending, so they mostly looked at us with that “yep, you have a problem” look.

We tried to repair in the wide places in the path, this one place had a ramp leading to the water.   I walked down the ramp, hoping to hire a fisherman to bring us back to town via their long boat.  So I am on the pier waving, the fishermen are waving back.  HELLO. I thought this was so nice just a half hour ago.  But then I notice this boat is heading for me, they are coming, it’s the ferry. We ended up at the ferry stop at just the right minute.  What are the odds?  On the other side of the river there are roads!  So we clamber aboard like this was our plan all along, muttering about our luck. We continued our walk on the city side of the river looking for help repairing the crank arm and pedal.  One shop looked at it and took out the welder to attach the pedal to the crank arm.  Remember, the pedals have to be removed to get the bike in the suitcase, so no thank you and continued our search for a repair and a cold drink.

We walk till we find some main road, then down that road till we find a place that sells cold drinks. Our Vietnamese is as good as their English, so finally, I walk into the kitchen to look for the cold drinks, retrieving a couple of green teas.  Some one points to where we are on the tourist map, I was shocked how far we had gone–nearly off the map, literally.  The cafe owners were kind enough to call a taxi, and we were home in about 10 more minutes.

The break down is a showstopper for us.  How do you explain and get a custom bike repaired in a foreign country, ugh.  The work here is divided into guilds and like stores/services are concentrated in one street.  There is an electronic street (David’s favorite), plumbing street, flooring street, etc. We needed bicycle street. The hotel wrote on our map — shock, bicycle guild is two blocks away!  Away we go, at the first place, we mimed the pedal falling out of the crank.  They talked among themselves, dug through some boxes, and viola a crank, our pedals work in the threads, and they had a puller to accomplish a complete repair in less than 15 minutes.

So let’s recap:  Ferry 50 cents, drinks $2  (we were ripped off but what could we say), taxi $1.50, and bike repair $4.    breaking down in the Mekong delta . . .  Priceless.

We are in the Mekong, and one of the most colorful things to do here is the floating markets.  There, local people sell their produce to transfer it to larger ships.  There are lots of boats, produce and people, oh yes and tourists.  David and I were dockside in the early morning dark, shuttled into a small boat, and off for a 27 kilo river ride (hour and fifteen minutes) watching the sun come up. . .  Farmers head up river with their Long boat laden down with goods.  Tet New Year is Jan 23, which is Christmas and Family reunion time all at once and the tradition is to get new clothes for new year so extra money is needed/spent.

Interesting scene: a chaotic jumble of boats, transfer of pineapples, bushels of potatoes, watermelons, bananas and God knows what else, people negotiating prices.   Breakfast or coffee vendors pull over to boats  offering to sell you something.

We cruised the markets for another hour or so, and were all the way home (you go faster in daylight) enjoying breakfast at our hotel by 9 a.m

Saigon was a transportation hub for us.  Some museums and churches but nothing that really captured our imagination.  Our one full day we spent on a tour of the Chu Chi Tunnels north of HCMC.

First the guide explained the difference between the two names.  Saigon was the capital  of south Vietnam before the Vietnam/American war.  When North Vietnam won they changed the name to Ho Chi Man City, but today, the center city or the “original” city is still called Saigon and the new growth and the official name is HCMC.  I think it is like sports stadiums.  Denver Broncos will always play at Mile High, no matter who owns the franchise rights and so it is in Vietnam.

The Chu Chi tunnels run over 250 km and were built by the north to be able to infiltrate into the south during the war.  they could hold over 8,000 people with eating, medical and strategic planning.  They let you crawl in, I got into the tunnel the width is just enough to slide your body down then you can choose to crawl foe a hundreds meters so you can experience how close the walls were and how hard it was to maneuver.   I got out of that opportunity.  The museum explained and had examples of some of the traps they used.  Interesting history, but a little goes a long way.

Back in Saigon that evening we found a circus tent erected in a park near our hotel, so what the heck . . . . The people were so strong and built so compact, they make amazing acrobats.  There, among all the other kids, we ate ice cream and clapped and cheered the show.   Then . . . so long Saigon.

It is against the law tourists to drive in Vietnam.  It is probably due to the lack of stop lights and absence of stop signs.   It really is a orchestrated chaos with pedestrian vs. scooter and cars and trucks thrown in.  A tourist killed an elderly person by motorbike and had to pay the family a two thousand dollar fine.  That’s all .

Anyhow, if you want to go somewhere beyond walking distance, you get a tour.    In this town we used a guild of motorcycle drivers who ferry tourists around on the back of their motorcycles.  Dave and Karen got local.  We told the drivers our interests in trekking and getting into the mountains.  We were driven on the back of motorcycles for an hour and visited Tiger Waterfalls prior to a trek.  As grey hairs they led us on a trek to visit a minority village.  After 3 hours of trekking uphill, we arrived at hill tribe village, the kind that only see tourists a couple of times a month (the guides explained, grey hairs are respectful to the elders, who are the only residents left behind each day).  The heart of the village which holds 100 people in 10 houses or so was completely empty.  Note the elderly woman cooking in her kitchen.  All 100 went into their fields to care for their crops. Harvesting or drying coffee beans or bringing them out of buyers.  The people are so hard working, making their farms perfect.

One of the crops grown is coffee.  There are several types of coffee beans but the one that is the most interesting is Weasel Coffee. ……“A civet (weasel) eats the berries (beans) for their fleshy pulp. In its stomach, proteolytic enzymes seep into the beans, making shorter peptides and more free amino acids. Passing through a civet’s intestines the beans are then defecated, keeping their shape. After gathering, thorough washing, sun drying, light roasting and brewing, these beans yield an aromatic coffee with much less bitterness, widely noted as the most expensive coffee in the world.” – Explanation taken from Wikipedia.  After learning it’s background we decided to  pass on this coffee blend.

 

This town was not on our list of stops, but it is the transport hub for this section of Vietnam and we came into town from Whale Island after the final bus.  If you are going to spend one night might as well spend two and have a look around.  From our perspective that means bikes.  Finding a local tourist map we planned a route which took us to the key spots, along some back roads, (of course getting lost and starting conversations with any friendly looking person) ending at the hot mud baths.  We spent a lovely afternoon getting muddy and then getting clean finally laying in the sun.  It is clear blue sky and 80 degrees today.  We are finally south enough for the warm and dry weather we had hoped for.

The fish farmers in this area revere the whale, and belong to the whale cult.  If the fisherman spot wales around this cove (Whale Island is on the migration path every May.) it signals a good season.  Whales – plankton – fish.  Guess it makes sense.  If a whale is beached, and dies, the farmers honor the whale by bringing it on shore and burying it.   Then 3 – 5 years later the grave is dug up and the bones are transferred to a temple where they the fisherman can  pray for a good harvest.  There are two temples at this site, but there are more scattered around the island.

The real exciting part was how we got there.  The boat eased to a stop and tied onto  the end of a large wooden platform.  Sticks really – tied to a flotation device.   About 20 people in our group, along with us, noted the shore was 30 feet or so away.  Mmmm.

We climbed off our nice sturdy boat on onto this raft, then they detached the boat and we realized one end of the raft was attached to a rope the the other to a tree onshore.

A little muscle later the shore was a hop away and we began our hike to the temples.

We needed a vacation from our vacation.  A chance to stop, rest, and tuck in for New Years Eve.  We found ourselves in a bamboo bungalow 25 feet from the water’s edge.  “Our house” was the thatched roof directly in front of the blue canoe.  Dave would say in the middle of the night he thought the air conditioning was turning on only to realize the wind was blowing straight through the wide gaps around the doors and windows.  You could here the tides crashing against the sea wall in the night.  These were the views from the front garden, looking in and looking out. Very simple.

The place was filled with water toys, and snorkeling of course, this is a hotel managed marine reserve, they are rebuilding the reef and enhancing the conditions for the coral and fish.  So we sat, played scrabble, read books, took naps, ate three very French meals a day.  (Lots of bread).  This is a French resort so besides four Australians traveling together, we were the only English speakers there.

One day we say a barge moving a entire fish farm.  We had to giggle, talk about a mobile home . . .   new town same house has been our mantra, guess it is the same for Vietnamese fisherman.   Happy New Year ! ! !

 

If you are a fan of travel websites like I am, Hoi An is consistently voted as the place “I wish I spent more time” and now I understand why. It is beautiful there, and architecture that is a thousand years old. I read that both sides during he American war agreed to NOT bomb this place, so much history at risk. So today, we still visit the markets, temples, bridges and entire buildings built without nails as people have for hundreds of years in this ancient river city.

The best way to see things is (we know the answer). Jumped on the bikes and then boarded a local boat to the islands which comprise farming communities — no cars here, just scooters and bikes, small lanes and kids who run after you shouting “hello, hello, where are you from? ? ?” It was great, farmers tilling their rice fields or using the water buffalo to plow. We rode around the entire island and then left for China Beach. A popular R&R spot for American GI’s in the 60’s and 70’s, so much so, a TV series was made to dramatize their stories. Makes sense though, an area that no one bombs becomes a restful oasis. Today it is full of resorts, even though Dave and I are pedaling along doesn’t mean we don’t stop at a fine hotel for lunch.

Off for five days to an island off Nha Trang called Whale Island Resort), for some R&R and bring in the New Year.

This morning at 0530 we took a local bus from the Farm Stay near Phong Nha to Hoi An about 350 km or 210 miles.  The local bus was a 20 seat van where they squeeze 30.  The good, we were the first on the bus and last to get off.  The bad, 30 passengers with only 20 seats.  The 20 passenger van took us to Hue where we caught another city bus.  The instant our bags were off loaded from the van the locals took our bags and loaded them on the bus even before we decided that was going to be the transport to Hoi An.

Once arriving at the Hoi An bus terminal, the only mode of transportation to the hotel (about 10km) was by motorbike as a passenger.  We needed 3 motor bikes where the drivers tied our 4 suitcases to the back of one of the bikes.  We mounted the back of the other two and off we were.  We arrived at the hotel with luggage in tact.  Assembled the bikes and went on a tour of the city.  After the tour folks at the front desk of the hotel took turns riding the Bike Fridays.

Tomorrow tour Hoi An…….