Adventure Vietnam: 1 Week In
Saigon, Vietnam- We landed in Ho Chi Minh City last Tuesday after flying for a total travel time of approximately 12 light years. Between our exhaustion from such a long trip, the relief of finding our baggage, visas verified, and the time adjustment, we were lucky enough to have had a fine young man offer us a ride to wherever we wished. After Char had the wherewithall to ask whether this guy was actually a taxi driver did he suddenly pull a plastic “Taxi” sign out of his glove compartment and stick it on the roof of his white sedan. Thoroughly convinced, we rode on our way to our hotel at 2am local time with fingers crossed that we’d live to see it.
Waking a few hours later to the sound of Ti Chi in the park across the street, we stumbled to the restaurant for our complimentary breakfast. On a terrace overlooking Southern Saigon, we enjoyed Vietnam’s version of a breakfast buffet. We indulged in dragonfruit, fresh juices, and an assortment of French pastries. Not to mention the “I think it’s boiled” bacon, stale “fresh rolls”, and cucumber soup. After breakfast we set out on our mission to get cash to pay for the hotel room only to find that 9 out of 10 ATMs in Asia seemingly don’t accept our cash cards. We were able to negotiate the labrynth of international banking phone numbers to solve our dilemma. We were then free to explore the hustle and bustle of a real, live Asian metropolis.
Fun Fact 1:
- - 1 in 2 people in Saigon own/ride a moto, which is basically a scooter of death.
- The first rule of driving in Vietnam is that there are no rules to driving in Vietnam.
- The above two fun facts make it difficult to cross the street without running like a girl.
Tourists
So we quickly learned that in addition to navigating the roadways, we had to get used to dealing with the indigenous population. You think Girl Scouts won’t take no for an answer? Try to keep that dorky “hey how are ya” American face when you’re confronted with opportunities to buy the same four books, “Good Morning Vietnam” shirts, and fishing net hammocks every two seconds. During the first bit of our assimilation into negotiating culture, we made an exception for a “cyclo” ride around Central Saigon with two authentic Vietnamese men. In between moments of stark terror when riding the wrong way on packed city streets, we had the chance to see a few museums, Notre Dame Cathedral (apparently there’s another one), the war crimes museum (awkward), and a lacquer painting factory. If anything, we got some good pictures and funny moments, plus it got us familiarized with the pace of these crazy people’s lives.
On Day 3 we went to the Cu Chi tunnels, where we were reeducated from the get-go with a video about “Uncle Ho” and all of his constructive projects through the years. Nice guy that Uncle Ho. We toured the tunnels, and saw some other stuff, but the most notable thing was getting to shoot an m60 machinegun. Both Char and I did, and while we didn’t get pictures, we did get video, so standby for that.
For Day 4 we booked a day trip to the Me Kong Delta region of Southern Vietnam. Not too far from Saigon, the Delta is huge, sprawling something like 12,000 square km. Again, to spare us the time, just the highlights. We boarded a couple of boats for a tour of the region visiting four islands, all with different productions. We saw coconut candy and craft production, exotic fruit orchards, rice paper making (delicious, really), and a bee farm. All of this punctuated by an animated Viet man, cucumber/fish soup lunch, and a ride on an extremely haggard mule cart. The trip ended with a sampan (kayak thing) ride back to the main boat, the bus, then the city. Fun, fun and lots of pictures.
So the next day we purchased an open bus ticket North to Hanoi. Basically we will make several stops on our journey upcountry in this order: Dalat, Nha Trang, Hoi An, Hue, and then Hanoi. We got the tickets pretty cheap and we figured it would be a great way to stop for a few days at each place and get to see more of the country. We left Saigon in the early morning, set to arrive in Dalat at around 3:30. We now understand why the tickets we bought were so cheap. The partially gravel road to Dalat winds up mountain roads about 8 feet wide, snakes around narrowcurves, and teeters on the edge of sheer cliffs. While the scenery was beautiful at times, we found ourselves staring at the oncoming traffic before us, wondering if the bus driver was all there or not.
Fun Fact 1.2: Understanding The Language of The Road:
- - One Honk: can mean anything from “hey buddy, nice shirt”, to “I’m right here, just to let you know”.
- Two Honks: means “I’m about to pass you and risk not only your life, but mine and all twenty of my passengers”.
- Three Honks and one sustained, puckered honk: means that danger is imminent, and that you will likely need to do some laundry.
Dalat, Vietnam-Arriving in town, we were immediately prayed upon by a group of aging motorcyclists that call themselves the “EasyRiders”. Edgy. They literally followed us from the bus stop as we found a guesthouse to stay for a couple of nights. Once we were back on the street, the same three guys would cruise up next to us and insist that they could find us a better hotel at a better rate, and that they didn’t work for the hotel. They even offered to leave Char and our bags on the street while they took me away from town to have a look at the room. Talk about salesmen. For the fifth time at least, we declined their creepy offer and decided to keep walking and see the town. These guys would not take no for an answere and I was getting pretty tired of it. Char and I were in the middle of walking around getting the lay of the land when another sharp dressed EasyRider rode up and tried to break the ice. “What are you up to?” he asked. “Oh nothing,” I replied, “minding my own business.” My body language transcended cultural miscommunication boundaries and he rode off. We found a small place on the corner (they all are) that had big bowls of “Pho” our new favorite dish, and decided to call it a night.
Early the next morning we booked an adventure tour through a company called Phat Tire Ventures. They specialize in active outdoor tours. On a recommendation from one of many travel books we’ve acquired, we chose something called “canyoning” which is basically starting at the top of a mountainous river canyon and making our way down. For only $38, the two of us were accompanied by three guides and a driver. We were taken out of town in the surrounding mountains and after we received permission from the park manager, we hiked down to the beginning of our route. The plan was to cross the river and follow a trail on the other side through the jungle to our “training slope”. The hike alone almost killed us. Not counting the sounds of cicadas and other creatures making their presence known, the route down was chock full of slippery rocks, spiky plants, and only vines as our lifelines. Anyway, we made it to an area above it all and got acquainted with the equipment and procedures for absailing. Literally 4 minutes after that we had a trial by fire by rappelling down a sheer 20 meter face. Nerves were in full effect, but Char went first and did great, then I followed. SUCH A RUSH! Things get very real when you’re told to step on the edge of a cliff, face the hill, and lean back!
Continuing down the canyon, we crossed the river several more times, hiked up and down technical routes and faced a few more really challenging cliff rappels. To mix up the tension, we slid down a short whitewater “waterslide” section, then hiked to the top of a large waterfall. The guides dug out some baguettes, cheese, meat, veggies, and fruit, and we had lunch. Afterward, the lead guide, Ken, started preparing some more rigging while the other two hiked around the feature and below it, to get a good camera angle. Up top, Ken instructed us on the way to make it down killing ourselves, and what to do in case something went wrong. Without much ado, I volunteered to go first. After tying in to the safety line and the rappel line, I stepped into the rushing water near the edge of the waterfall and inched my way toward where I would drop in. As the power of that volume of water made itself known by its deafening roar, Ken gave me the all clear and that was it, it was all up to me now! I leaned back to get some tension in the line and started walking backward. Before the water was able to rush up over my head, I looked up at Ken one last time to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I lined up with a spot between two large currents of water and tucked myself through, easing my right hand on the line to control my descent. The water rushed around me and I had to look down to breath, but I focused on how my feet felt and kept walking down. Within 4 meters of the water below, I jumped, freed myself of the rope, and swam to safety. Crazy!
From below, I shot pictures of Charla as she followed the same line as I did. I was so impressed and proud of how she handled herself facing something like that. The pictures are proof!
Our day was not without tragedy. On the last waterfall descent of the route, known as the “washing machine”, one of Charla’s shoes didn’t make it. Torn from her foot’s grasp, the water’s power proved too great. We will miss you Lefty, RIP.
Nha Trang
We left Dalat this morning at 7:30 and had perhaps the bumpiest, swerviest 5 hours of my life. Todays bus driver was apparently blind and using a prosthetic right foot, because we were all over the place. There is no reason we should have survived the trip, but we did. And, those of you in the know, Char did just fine, thank you. She wore a motion sickness patch and instead, another passenger in front of us was the one who got sick…real sick.
We’re looking forward to relaxing on the beaches of Nha Trang for a few days. The priorities are few: rent bicycles, apply sunscreen, lay down on towel, drink fruity cocktails, and decide where to eat. Tough lives we know. Keep us in your prayers, we’ll find a way.
