October 26: Pummelled and Ground

After 4 days in and around Bangkok, I was ready for a lower key Thailand and found it in Chiang Mai, the country's second largest city but only a fraction the size of Bangkok, located about 480 miles northwest of the capital.

The terrain here reminded me of the Shenandoah Mountains, with verdant green hills and small mountains surrounding the city, which is home to under 200,000 in the city proper but over 1.5 million tourists every year.  They, like me, are attracted by the cooler temperatures and abundant outdoor activities in the area from hiking to white water rafting to zip lining to rock climbing as well as cooking classes, massage classes and a plethora of Buddhist temples (over 300).

While the King's image seemed to predominate in Bangkok, it is the Buddhist religion that seems to have sway in this area with its many wats and large numbers of monks, who can be seen throughout the city in their orange robes.  Monks are given very special treatment in Thailand, from being placed at the head of every line to receiving respectful wai's from passersby.  Thailand in general seems a very religious place in a modest but pervasive way.  Many homes have small wooden or bamboo houses for the spirits of past eras to dwell in; offerings of flowers, food, incense and even plastic bottles of water are left for them so that they remain content.  These may not be particularly Buddhist in origin but are found everywhere.

Almost everyone I met preferred Chiang Mai to Bangkok for its accessibility, slower pace, cooler temps and less artificial approach.  It was also surprising to me how many farang were here - I met people from Italy, Croatia, South Africa, Australia, Canada, the Phillipines, China, Japan, the UK, Ireland and France.  All of them wanted to know about the election and all hoped Obama would win.  I told them it would be very close and that I was not sure he would.

Up until now, I had always regarded Portland or maybe Seattle as the coffee capital;  Chiang Mai gives them a run for their money.  Thailand is increasing coffee production rapidly (as is Vietnam) and a lot of the coffee seems to stay in-country.  Every block has multiple small coffee shops offering not only the usual array of hot drinks but, given the weather, an assortment of iced coffee drinks that are totally addictive (and more fattening than my usual black coffee!)

The other notable thing about Chiang Mai is that you cannot walk more than a few feet without running into a massage spa offering foot massage, Thai massage (a sort of pummeling and stretching), oil massages, scalp and facial massages, among others (which I will not go into).  Quite a few also had tanks of small fish that like to eat the dead skin on your feet, cleaning them pretty thoroughly (if a little disgustingly).  A two-hour Thai massage will set you back all of $12.  You could easily spend the day cycling through a caffeine high and a mellow state of massage heaven; lots of visitors seem to be doing just that, interspersed with visiting temples and enjoying terrific food.

My hotel was located a short walk from the best known night market, Anusaran, which is quiet during the day.  Starting around six, though, hundreds of vendors began putting out their wares, ranging from silk goods to wood handicrafts to t-shirts to clothing of all sorts.  Indian tailors literally grab you to insist that you need a new custom-made suit, available in just 24 hours.  Scores of tourists loll in lazy boy chairs and on platform beds being massaged in the very warm, humid air.  I could not get enough of the incredible seafood offered at the market; crabs, lobsters, mussels, oysters, squid and assorted whole fish are prepared any way you would like - with green or red curry, massaman curry, black bean sauce, etc.

The first day I spent mostly visiting temples and, unfortunately, managed to leave any device that could take a photograph.  The second day I took a cooking course; unlike most, it started at the market where we picked up most of the necessary ingredients.  Then we hopped a local train to a nearby farming village, where we rode bikes to the home where our group would cook the assorted meals offered.  Each of us made five courses; I picked ones I liked, figuring that I would be most likely to try them at home: hot and sour shrimp soup, pad thai (of course), beef salad, massaman chicken curry and sticky rice with mango.

Here are two of my efforts (curry on the left and soup on the right; both nose-running, eye-watering, where's the water spicy hot!):

The next day I decided to go zip-lining, which my son Chris and I had enjoyed in Costa Rica.  Basically you are strapped in a harness and hooked to a wire that you ride along between high platforms attached to trees.  Perfectly safe while still pretty thrilling.  This was the largest such setup I've heard of, with 33 lines to traverse and two places where you rappel down to a different level.  This all occurs in a dense tropical forest complete with gibbons, birds of every kind and amazing flowers.  I have a couple of fun movies that I'll try to download (current wifi too slow); for now, you'll have to be satisfied (hah) with my mug.

That will be it for Chiang Mai - a great place that I will definitely return to for trekking, coffee, cheap food and great massages.

October 22

Bangkok: Rolling on the River

After 4 days in Bangkok, I am eager to move on.  My sense is that there is a lot more Thailand out there than this huge, bustling capital city.  As is true of many places, the real Thailand is especially hidden from view where there are large numbers of tourists; so much is structured for the farang - caucasian westerners like myself - a somewhat artificial Thailand exists separate and apart from the daily lives of residents.

I began my first full day in Bangkok at the Grand Palace (traditional home of the King) and adjacent way (temple), Wat Phra Kaew, both built after Bangkok became capital in the 18th century following the fall of the nation's historic capital, Ayutthaya, in a war with the Burmese.  Under a blistering sun (which bore down all my days here), I joined throngs of tourists from around the world in viewing the watt's extraordinary beauties.  The workmanship and fantastic design of the temple buildings was breathtaking, particularly the central chapel, where the famous Emerald Buddha sits.  No pictures are allowed of the magnificent chapel interior and Buddha, which sits on a multi-tiered dais that is itself an sumptuous piece of art.  The walls surrounding the Buddha are painted with scenes from the lives of Thailand's kings while the front wall depicts the life of Buddha.  I do not think I have seen a more beautiful interior space, including that of the Sistine Chapel.  The grounds offer many other delights to the eye, large and small.  The 19^th Century Grand Palace is also impressive, although the current King no longer lives there.  Guards stand at attention in front, much as they do at Buckingham Palace although it is a hell of a lot hotter in Bangkok.

This shot seems characteristic of all Thai temples, if perhaps grander . . .

The Grand Palace:

 The Temple grounds; the first is the entrance to the Temple of the Emerald Buddha.

 Bangkok is a massive place whose 8 million residents seem to be in constant motion, making for some epic traffic jams but, fortunately, it has a pretty good transit system of elevated rail, lots of buses and a river where water taxies and ferries are frequent.  For some reason, I elected to stay on the river in an old part of the City but not close to the “downtown” area nor well-served by transit alternatives.  Fortunately, taxies are cheap (although drivers can be unscrupulous) and “tuk-tuks” – open air three wheel taxis that are noisy (making the epynomous tuk tuk sound).

The contrast between Thailand and Vietnam was stark.  Much of the Bangkok area would be familiar to Americans with freeways, strip malls, big box stores and even a factory outlet center.  The standard of living in Thailand is significantly higher than in Vietnam, where even the major cities lack modern facilities and the streets are overrun with scooters, vendors and people working.  The airport in Hanoi is utilitarian at best; at the new gigantic airport in Bangkok, I encountered a first for me – fresh orchids in the immaculate men’s room.

Having perhaps over-relied on TripAdvisor, I seemed to have landed in backpacker land; the area near my hotel (near what is known as Khaeo Son Road) is a warren of small streets lined with tiny hostels and inns, bars, restaurants, massage parlors, street food vendors and an array of tourist goods.   A couple of sweaty hours wandering the area proved to be enough for me but it clearly is a place where the young and restless were happy to sleep, eat and party while planning their next trek.

The King of Thailand remains a revered figure in this country both de facto and de jure;  criticism of the King can lead to jail time.  Photographs and monuments to the King, and Queen, are everywhere on streets, buildings, and  almost all public places.  The Thai people seem to genuinely like the current king but he is in his 80’s and his playboy son enjoys far less respect.  Some Thais told me that they think the monarchy could fall if the son is named king on his father’s death, although they would accept the Prince’s son much as Prince William seems to have a lot of support relative to his father, Prince Charles.

After the Grand Palace I met up with Moo, a friend of a Thai friend in NYC (thanks, Ning!), who gave me a bit of a tour of Bangkok (or BKK as they all refer to it) before driving me back to my hotel.  The next day I was off to see the floating markets, where boats on canals serve an array of mouth-watering delights to visitors to an area of canals south of Bangkok.  Touristy but fun, with hundreds of boats with visitors vying with food boats for very limited space on the narrow canals.  You can see me on a bridge overlooking the action.

Later I took in a show at the Rose Garden (which no longer has many shows), which was an attempt to introduce various elements  of Thai culture from dance to music to a village wedding to muay thai (Thai boxing).  Kind of a hokie tourist thing with broad humor and an excruciating version of “It’s a Small World” played by musicians on traditional Thai instruments, which seemed perpetually out of tune to Western ears.  

My guide dropped me off downtown, where I had (of course) a massage at the Health Land massage emporium, which was as large as a hotel with scores of locals and some tourists waiting for an array of treatments.

On Sunday, Moo drove me Ayuttuya, the old capital located about 50 miles northwest of Bangkok and waited patiently while I visited a number of ancient wats there.  These are mostly ruins now, although there are still a number of active temples, accounting for the many orange-robed monks.  Under the sweltering sun, I wandered about the old wats, marveling at the ruins of what must have been an amazing number of beautiful temples, as some of these shots suggest.  Perhaps the iconic image of Ayuttuya is shown in the last one, the head of a Buddha, now lodged in the base of a tree surrounded by roots that have grown around it.

In this old wat, visitors purchased small pieces of gold leaf to place on a small buddha statue as a symbol of respect. 

This last shot shows the only piece of script and carving that I could find; the rest was stripped by the Burmese who cruelly wrecked the temples after capturing the capital.

After a pleasant, very Thai lunch at a riverside restaurant before heading back to Bangkok, Moo gave me a quick tour of the Sunday market, where seemingly all 8 million Bangkok residents were trying to park and buy goods.  It was really great to have someone who could explain how things work in this metropolis.

Chang Mail to be posted soon!

October 18

Sapa-Fanispan-Hanoi: Some Tough Mudder

Before doing some actual research, I had little idea that Vietnam, particularly in the north, is a real hiking destination.  The center for trekking, as hiking is called here, is in Sapa, about 100 miles northwest of Hanoi.

Given the roads, most travelers elect to take an overnight train from Hanoi, which allows at least the potential for sleep and saves one night’s hotel expense.   After my hectic departure from Hanoi, I arrived in Lao Chi, which sits on the Chinese border, for transfer by taxi to Sapa.  Sleeping on the train was a bit spotty but I was eager to get started.  Thankfully I would have a night at a hotel in Sapa to recover.

My guide, Khahn (pronounced “kiin”) took me on a tour of nearby villages nestled in a valley bordered on all sides by sloping terraces of rice paddies.  The rice had recently been harvested and water buffalo grazed the remaining stems as some light rain and mist kept much of the valley shrouded from view.  Unfortunately, the weather was not conducive to photography, so no shots of this unique scene.  This area of Vietnam has a substantial number of ethnic minorities (there are 55 in Vietnam), including Hmong, Gao and others.  The Hmong live much as they did in the centuries they have been in these hills after migrating from Mongolia.  Most are farmers but many also work on handicrafts from a wide assortment of woven goods to silver and bronze jewelry.

Almost all the of the Hmong dress in traditional garb, mostly black but the women also wear brightly colored  head scarves.  Hmong women still learn to make their own clothes at an early age.  A great many of the Hmong women and girls spend their days on the roads and in Sapa selling handicrafts, vegetables and clothing to both locals and tourists, often attaching themselves to visitors as they wander around the villages, hoping to make a sale.  Many are strikingly attractive but hard lives take their toll.  Quite a few elderly women are tiny and bent from carrying children and goods from village to market.  Living conditions in the villages are fairly primitive, although there is a local school and hospital.  Hmong families are unusually large, typically with 5-7 children and about 30% of Hmong children still do not go to school and are put to work making or selling goods or working on the farms.

Tough as things are for them, the Hmong – like most Vietnamese – are persistent and seemingly unimpressed by much of modernity.  In fact, throughout my stay, I found the Vietnamese to be hardworking but not driven as was the case in Hong Kong.  Most have been very friendly, helpful and unblemished by the ironic attitudes prevalent in the West.

After touring the villages, Khahn and I returned to Sapa for an early supper.  He took me to a local restaurant that he likes where the surroundings were quite modest but the food cheap and delicious (while I reimbursed him, Khahn told me to let him pay since they would charge me double, two-tier pricing being a common practice).  Two friends of his sat down nearby and, as we were finishing, invited me over to share a bottle of local homemade rice wine.  After filling my thimble-sized glass, we toasted and, as was the custom, shook hands.  Quite of few rounds of this ensued with everyone toasting each other but fortunately Khahn was able to politely extract us so that hiking the next day would be unimpaired.

Somewhat improved weather greeted me the next morning as you can see.

Off we headed by minibus to the start of the hike at Heaven’s Gate, accompanied by two Hmong friends of Khahn’s who would serve as porters and cooks.  Feeling a little sheepish at this luxury, I was nonetheless grateful not to have to carry all of my water, food and sleeping gear up the mountain.  Given the off and on rain, the path upward was mostly muddy, forcing us to skirt the edges much of the time to find rocks and bamboo sticks to step on.  Stepping in the this mud brought mud up to my ankles and threatened to take my shoes right off as I stepped forward.

The terrain was steep and the going very tough indeed; many places were essentially a scramble with tree roots and bamboo shoots as handholds.  Given the elevation (we started at over 7000 feet), I was pretty draggy by lunchtime with the hardest section yet to some.  The afternoon seemed endless with the mud, my fatigue and the intermittent rain.  At one point in the middle of a steep downhill section (never a happy sight when you know it just adds to the overall climb) we encountered a yellow speckled snake next to the path.  Not knowing if it was poisonous and not willing to risk it, the Hmong men dispatched the snake with rocks and bamboo sticks.  Don’t tell the Wildlife Federation.

Eventually, by late afternoon, we reached the park campground at about 9,500 feet where we would spend the night.  This was a humble place. There was bamboo hut covered with plastic materials and a wood floor, where we were able to pitch our tent, as well as two kitchen huts, which were, in a word, squalid – littered with plastic trash, thickly blackened pots and a dirt floor that had seen countless visitors.  Yet, the Hmong men meticulously cleaned all the cooking and eating utensils with boiling water and, after much chopping and cooking, produced a splendid meal of no less than six dishes from French fries to chicken, pork, eggs, beef and vegetables (my first exposure to eating morning glory leaves as a green – tasting a little like broccoli rabe).  The older man produced his own plastic jug of rice wine, which kept us warm as the temperature dropped steadily; it would reach about 35 overnight).

Sleeping was bit of a challenge and I tossed and turned, looking for a comfortable position on the thin mat we slept on.  The morning was a welcome, if foggy sight.  After a breakfast of delicious fried rice, we headed off a little after 6 for the summit of the mountain.  This involved a steep down section before  the final push upward, which left me breathless at times as we clambered up the foggy trail.  By 8:30, though, we were standing at the summit, the first from the campground to do so and were rewarded by the only clear views of the day since, as we began our descent, the fog rolled back in.  The sights were magnificent, rolling hills and mist-covered peaks in all directions with seemingly ancient valleys between them.  

There was a lot of hiking left, though, and after a few minutes of rest, we headed back down (and then up) to get back to the campground.  The down was less taxing but my knees were complaining and, after a few hours of this, my quads were too.  We had another lunch of noodle soup made fresh on the mountain and, after 8 hours of hiking, we arrived back at Heaven's Gate for the ride home - elated, exhausted and happy to be done.

A quick shower and a shared beer with local guides and then we took off for Lao Cai so I could catch the overnight train back to Hanoi.  This time I slept and practically had to be woken when we arrived.  Early arrival at the hotel allowed me to grab some more shut-eye before I stumbled through the crazy Hanoi traffic to see a few temples and get a well-deserved massage.  An early bed before leaving for Bangkok was a nice reward.

Despite its relative poverty and erratic development, Vietnam is a captivating place that I hope to return to, although perhaps for some less arduous exploration.

October 11

Halong Bay: Getting My Sea Legs

Today began with the traditional Vietnamese breakfast – pho – a noodle soup with beef and vegetables.  Pho is advertised everywhere and, while available for breakfast, is also eaten throughout the day.  Streetcorners also offer loaves of French bread and there are other signs of the long French occupation throughout Vietnam, including the architecture.

I was met at the hotel by my guide for the next few days, Duc, and the driver who would take us to Halong Bay, about 100 miles east of Hanoi.  Going this distance, given the roads and traffic, took about 4 hours, interrupted only by a stop at one of many handicraft centers.  This one featured a large room full of women, and some men, weaving paintings of local scenes with brightly colored threat.  Most were deaf and mute while others were disabled; money from sales goes to the facilities where they live.  Out back, men with power tools were carving limestone and other rocks into enormous sculptures depicting lions, wildlife, the Buddha and human figures of various sorts.  A surprising number of tourists buy these and have these shipped back to their homes for $200-300. 

After the long ride, we finally arrived at Halong Bay and transferred to our home for the next two days, the junk Phoenix, one of several hundred junks that ply the waters of this UN World Heritage site – perhaps the leading attraction in Vietnam.  Why even Mark Zuckerberg was here on his honeymoon.  After lunch on board, the Phoenix threaded its way in calm waters through some of the thousands of floating green islands that comprise this beautiful land and seascape.  Our junk (which is motorized; some have decorative sails) has about 22 rooms, each with separate bath and shower.

The afternoon’s sail brought us to a cove surrounded by steep small islands and populated by no less than 33 other junks that, like us, would berth at anchor overnight in the still waters prevalent here. 

From there, we transferred to a smaller launch to visit nearby caves that extend far into one of the larger islands.  The caves were successively larger with hanging formations like wax drippings.  Striking and slightly terrifiying, the caves were like an eerie horror film set, although our tour guide diverted us with attempts to see animals and faces in the rock.  One said to be like a turtle was worn smooth by the hands of passing visitors hoping to get luck.  Those who sought to emulate the turtle’s long life left money.  Duc told me that a turtle in the lake in Hanoi was 500 years old, dating to the time that the Vietnamese defeated the Chinese that then held it as a province.

After a quick change on the boat, we headed off to another island to hike up its steep hills to an outlook and followed by a swim.  The 360 degree views from the top were fine indeed, even with the humid haze that sheltered many islands from view.  The water was bathtub warm but still refreshing after the hike up to the top.  No, that's not a grimace.

Halong Bay draws visitors from all over the worId.  I sat at dinner with a couple from Canberra, Australia, another from Manila and another New Yorker, who (like the Zuckerbergs!) were on their honeymoon.  The food was terrific, from pumpkin soup to salads to a variety of fish dishes.  The two honeymooning couples on board were the excuse to enjoy heart-shaped chocolate cake.

Happily, throughout all of this I was spared the seasickness that has plagued on many earlier efforts on water – including a day sail up the Sir Francis Drake Channel in the Caribbean that was meant to be romantic and wound up with me hanging over the side.  My sons are lucky to have been born given that episode.

The next day began with pho, of course, along with the dark, chocolaty coffee that seems prevalent here.  After a transfer to a smaller boat for the day, Duc and I headed off in our kayak’s for some touring; we went through caves filled with bats and luscious green coves where the blue water was often punctuated by schools of tiny jumping fish that flashed over the water in silver arcs.  Although I had kayaked before, it was never in such lush surroundings.  The equipment was not great, unfortunately, and the backless seating put a lot of strain on my core and legs to sit upright while paddling.  Stopping at a beautiful secluded beach, I was able to enjoy swimming in the warm clear waters and eventually got cajoled into the sport of jumping over the top of the boat.

After a short lunch on the boat and some maneuvering to a new location, we took off again, this time to visit a nearby floating village, where nearly 500 people live entirely on the water, fishing the waters for a wide array of fish, crabs, clams and oysters.  A high point was our stop at the local school, where the four classrooms sat calmly on the still waters.  The students were doing what all kids do at school, alternating between the usual class routines of reading to the class at the front of the room to fooling around during free time.  Ho Chi Minh’s portrait sat at the top of the blackboards; he remains a revered figure here, even as this country has changed to a far more open and commercial place than he might have contemplated.

Later we also stopped at oyster farms where they cultivate pearls and have a small factory (and, of course, a factory store!) where we were taken through the entire fascinating process. 

A few more shots of Halong, from a concrete boat where men fabricated metal items to a very young seaman in training to the glorious sunsets that were still fabulous even in the haze.

At dinner, I enjoyed talking with a honeymooning couple from San Sebastian, Spain, the principal city of the Basque country.  Like most Spaniards, they are worried about the persistent economic problems their country faces, including unemployment over 22%.  Two German women also sat with us; remarkably, they are embarking on two years in Hanoi teaching German as a second language (who knew!)  Happily for me, English is the common language today.

After another short kayak trip the next day, the junk returned to Halong Bay marina, where after a quick cooking class (spring rolls), we had a great lunch of our rolls, more fish and salad.  By noon, we were rolling back to Hanoi, stopping only for the obligatory tourist stand and to get a close-up view of the rice harvest that was underway on both sides of the road for much of the 100 mile route.  Rice remains the primary crop and form of sustenance in Vietnam.  The mechanization that has transformed agriculture in the West is largely absent here.  Farmers, mostly women, reap the rice with curved scythes, gathering them into bunches to be threshed.  This is often done at roadside, where the rice is then poured onto the highway surface to dry since there are few other flat dry places for the farmers to use.  Surprisingly little of the drying rice is disturbed by the passing traffic; once dry, the rice is put into repurposed plastic bags and taken to be processed into the white rice that is preferred here and is most of Asia. 

Vietnam has come far from the days when the entire country was at war.  It has a resilient people who are pragmatic but not the hard chargers I saw in Hong Kong.  Unlike China, where farmers are streaming into the cities, rural and coastal Vietnamese seem more rooted, although that may also reflect that there is less opportunity in the cities here.  Most are quite poor but also seem fairly content, with families staying close and continuing on as they have for generations.

Back in Hanoi, I reorganized my bags for the trip to the much cooler mountain regions and went to dinner at a highly popular restaurant, where I was seated with a Vietnamese family who graciously allowed me to sit with them in the crowded restaurant, which was in a large open courtyard, surrounded by numerous cooking stations for each of the various types of food offered.  Swarms of waiters ran from one station to another to place orders, collect prepared dishes and carry them off to waiting diners, shouting at cooks to be heard over the happy din of satisfied eaters.  As my bags were at the hotel waiting for transfer to the train station for my overnight train to Sapa, I grabbed a taxi thinking it would be faster than walking.  Wrong.  Saturday night in the Old Quarter of Hanoi is wall to wall couples on scooters, families out for the night and throngs of tourists.  And my driver got lost, making the ride to the train station after he finally found the hotel a white knuckle special.

I’ll be hiking for a few days so stay tuned.