MI Time - 2:47AM
Local Vietnam time: 1:47PM
Date: Saturday 21-Jun-08
Location: In a local cafe in Can Tho Vietnam overlooking crowded street
Ladies with bamboo hats sell mini-bananas, motorcycles zooming by...epiphany, women do whatever men do. They ride motos and row canoes down the river, which is more than I can say for Honduras where the culture was very machista and women only stayed at home. Culture here also seems to be very non confrontational. I remember wandering the Chicago airport before departure and commenting to Steve, "this is the busiest I've ever seen it in the airport." There were business men in suits rushing here and there, women in high heels, clickety clickety click, familes scurrying with childern, long lines for starbucks coffee. Everything and everyone humble-jumbled together formed a large rock band of noise. In contrast, landing in the Vietnamese airport waiting for baggage and in the long immigration lines, I felt the need to whisper to Steve as if I was in the library. Vietnamese tend to be more soft-spoken. I don't see a lot public display of affection (hugging kissing, holding hands). Unfortuantely, the habit of carelessly tossing garbage out of bus windows or non-chalantely onto the street while walking is a commonality I've seen in all our travels, including Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Honduras, Nicaragua, and here in Vietnam as well. Even our boat guide this morning tossed his empty cigarette box into the Mekong river. Smoking! It pains me to see young men 14, 15,16 years of age smoking. Another custom that I've noticed is that a large percentage of Vietnamese men smoke or chew. I wonder when and why that custom was started.
Each day we are awakened by the concert featuring the motos and the alarm clock. This morning a rooster awkwardly joined in. We went downstairs at 5:30AM, the hotel lobby door was already open and a thin small-framed man greeted us with a smile and shy chuckle. He waved his hand as a greeting. We darted single file through the motos and bicycle traffic (not many cars) and followed him into a quaint coffee shop. "Blah blah blah...Cafey?"
"Cafey...yes" I replied with a smile. The little man disappeared and left us sipping iced coffee (belive me, you wouldn't want it hot here). Five minutes later, our tour boat guy returned with a bunch of finger sized bananas. "Banana?" he announced. I looked up banana in my phrase book. "Choo-ea" I stated proudly. Our communication was limited. To break the awkward silence, I had him read me the numbers in Vietnamese from my phrase book, and I repeated them over and over. "We go" he stated suddenly. We followed him out of the cafe and to the boat dock.
MI Time- 10:00AM
Local Vietnamese time - 9:00PM
Date: June 22nd 2008
Location: droopy eyed and in our hotel in Can Tho
So I'm not going to last long, but I wanted to gift you a beautiful snapshot of the floating market. Our guide steered the boat from the back using the motor most of the time and sometimes just the paddle. We went downstream for about an hour and all of a sudden...canoe...canoe...another canoe, canoes everywhere. Our guide parked us right in the middle of the canoe chaos. We bought some green dragon fruits (big red pink fruits with green spikes and white inside with tiny black seeds). The taste resembles a kiwi. Another wooden canoe pulled up beside us. A little Asian man (all Asian/Vietnamese men seem to be really short and small framed) was swimming in sodas and buckets of ice in his canoe. He held up a plastic cup already filled up with ice and motioned for us to pick a beverage. "Cafe!" I stated. He nodded his head and filled our cups with espresso/coffee and milk. In the middle of the floating market we were sipping iced lattes for 30 cents each. Canoes were filled with cabbages, carrots, dragon fruits, onions, garlic, even bathroom supplies and clothing. Imagine going to the supermarket and every isle's products packed into a Canoe!
sábado, 21 de junio de 2008
jueves, 19 de junio de 2008
Bicycling to Ben Tre
Michigan time: 9:40AM
Local Vietnam time: 8:40PM
Date: 19-June-08
Location: Ben Tre coffee bar
6:00AM, our little watch alarm welcomed us to day 2 in Vietnam.
"Why so early?" you may ask.
If we had any hope of actually surviving our ride to the Ho Chi Minh bus station to write/tell about it, we had to leave early to avoid traffic. Unfortunately, the alarm did not sing solo. It sang in harmony with the buzz of the motorcycles. With an angered belly and anxiety on my shoulders, nervous about the ride, we left by 6:20AM and hugged the right lane as much as we could. Then after about 5 min, I found myself behind a slow lady biking with her child in front. I looked over my left shoulder and I saw a slight break. I swerved around her in slow movements, curving like a snake around her, giving the mopeds time to move around me. We swam like little minnows in a school of fish. Remarkably, we all glided and curved to a unified rythm. I caught on and slowly passed an older man a bicycle. Then I realized that the knot in my stomach was untied. I began to enjoy the ride. Really, there were few cars. NOTE: anything and everything can be transported on a bicycle or moped. Even mirrors and bed mattresses! You think you need a truck to move your bed. Well, apparently not. I wish I could have taken a photo of the matress with a cart, but I was too busy being a minnow in a school of fish.
It felt good to take off my helmet. We only biked 3.5 miles from the hotel to the bus station, but it was a 3.5 miles I will never forget. Fortunately, we were lucky with the bus. We just repeated My Tho (our destination) and through pointing we were directed the correct bus. They tossed our bikes on top. We cringed when they flipped on top as if they were bean-bags. We were the only white people on the bus. We were nearly the last ones to board the bus. I love it when it works out that way! No wait! However, we did stop every 20 minutes to load on wall tiles. I felt sorry for the bus driver. It must be really stressfull avoiding all the mopeds. He constantly honked and moved at a medium/steady pace to keep movement predictable. With each minute, the mopeds seemed to mulitply. More and more people were awake and heading to factories to work. By 8:30, traffic was very hectic and chaotic.
Suddenly the bus attendant smiled at us and said, "My Tho!" She moved her arm in a straightforward motion. Then several of the passengers also smiled and pointed forward. I followed Steve off the bus carefully with all the packs. A man swiftly passed the bikes down to Steve.
"Obviously, we need to go straight." And straight we went.
Off the highway now, traffic was lighter and easier to navigate. We just followed the bicycle/moped traffic flow all the way to the water/river front and spotted the huge ferry ready to leave. We hopped on with no trouble-perfect timing! I guess the angels or buddha must be watching over us. Without planning, everything seemed to work out today. The 15min boat ride took us across the wide river (also carrying cars, trucks, and cargo). We pedaled about 11 miles to the town of Ben Tre. Our thirst glands were turned too high and we drank bottle after bottle of water. Along with some coconut covered peanuts for a snack. More pointing and smiling made the purchase complete. Really, people do not speak English. It is really strange when people speak to us or try to tell us prices in Vietnamese. We smile stupidly, we find ourselves and illiterate and mute. We now carry a pen and paper and motion for people to write the price for us. At least they use numerals.
At Ben Tre, at 12:30PM Vietnam time, we called it a day. Sweating buckets and drinking bottles of water under the overly vibrant sun, I happen to see the word "Hotel" mixed with all the Vietnamese jibberish. We enter and a petite woman seemed to understand that we wanted a room, so she showed us one: air conditioning, fridge, beautifully remodeled toilet and shower. She wrote 160,000 on a piece of paper ($10!) Great! We smiled at her and nodded yes. As soon as she shut the door we began shedding our wet sweaty clothes and jumped into the shower. We also dumped all the dirty clothes in the shower with us and washed them. Without breakfast, Steve began to roar with hunger and we walked towards the market. Being illiterate was harder than we had imagined.
In the market, we pointed to some of the hairy ball fruits we recognized from our time in Honduras. I pointed to a weird spikey red fruit that matched the guidebook description of the must-try dragon fruit that supposedly resembles that of a kiwi. I also spotted peanuts and pointed to a giant bag of them. Steve calmed his hungry with a licha (red hairy fruit) and I cracked into a peanut shell and not yum! It was squishy and soft inside. "What is wrong with these peanuts?" I exclaimed. Then it dawned on me...usually peanuts are roasted. These were raw peanuts. We sat down by some tables where people were eating and smiled. I recognized the word "Pho" for soup. When the lady aproached us, we both said "Pho". She stared at us blankly, I guess we didn't say it correctly. So we pointed to a bowl of soup somebody else had. I tried to say "An Chay" for vegetarian in Vietnamese to no success. A minute later, she returned with a beef noodle soup. We politely smiled and ate the noodles. They were strange, thick, and bright white in color and took the flavor a sweet onion. Still hungry, we head back inside the market, and there, lit up like a treasure, was a huge bag of cashews. We pointed and made a shape of a small bag. We also pointed to a box of raisins. We successfully celebrated our purcheses and devoured the biggest cashews you've ever seen!
It's getting late after 11pm local time and we're off to rest in preparation for tomorrow's bike ride.
Local Vietnam time: 8:40PM
Date: 19-June-08
Location: Ben Tre coffee bar
6:00AM, our little watch alarm welcomed us to day 2 in Vietnam.
"Why so early?" you may ask.
If we had any hope of actually surviving our ride to the Ho Chi Minh bus station to write/tell about it, we had to leave early to avoid traffic. Unfortunately, the alarm did not sing solo. It sang in harmony with the buzz of the motorcycles. With an angered belly and anxiety on my shoulders, nervous about the ride, we left by 6:20AM and hugged the right lane as much as we could. Then after about 5 min, I found myself behind a slow lady biking with her child in front. I looked over my left shoulder and I saw a slight break. I swerved around her in slow movements, curving like a snake around her, giving the mopeds time to move around me. We swam like little minnows in a school of fish. Remarkably, we all glided and curved to a unified rythm. I caught on and slowly passed an older man a bicycle. Then I realized that the knot in my stomach was untied. I began to enjoy the ride. Really, there were few cars. NOTE: anything and everything can be transported on a bicycle or moped. Even mirrors and bed mattresses! You think you need a truck to move your bed. Well, apparently not. I wish I could have taken a photo of the matress with a cart, but I was too busy being a minnow in a school of fish.
It felt good to take off my helmet. We only biked 3.5 miles from the hotel to the bus station, but it was a 3.5 miles I will never forget. Fortunately, we were lucky with the bus. We just repeated My Tho (our destination) and through pointing we were directed the correct bus. They tossed our bikes on top. We cringed when they flipped on top as if they were bean-bags. We were the only white people on the bus. We were nearly the last ones to board the bus. I love it when it works out that way! No wait! However, we did stop every 20 minutes to load on wall tiles. I felt sorry for the bus driver. It must be really stressfull avoiding all the mopeds. He constantly honked and moved at a medium/steady pace to keep movement predictable. With each minute, the mopeds seemed to mulitply. More and more people were awake and heading to factories to work. By 8:30, traffic was very hectic and chaotic.
Suddenly the bus attendant smiled at us and said, "My Tho!" She moved her arm in a straightforward motion. Then several of the passengers also smiled and pointed forward. I followed Steve off the bus carefully with all the packs. A man swiftly passed the bikes down to Steve.
"Obviously, we need to go straight." And straight we went.
Off the highway now, traffic was lighter and easier to navigate. We just followed the bicycle/moped traffic flow all the way to the water/river front and spotted the huge ferry ready to leave. We hopped on with no trouble-perfect timing! I guess the angels or buddha must be watching over us. Without planning, everything seemed to work out today. The 15min boat ride took us across the wide river (also carrying cars, trucks, and cargo). We pedaled about 11 miles to the town of Ben Tre. Our thirst glands were turned too high and we drank bottle after bottle of water. Along with some coconut covered peanuts for a snack. More pointing and smiling made the purchase complete. Really, people do not speak English. It is really strange when people speak to us or try to tell us prices in Vietnamese. We smile stupidly, we find ourselves and illiterate and mute. We now carry a pen and paper and motion for people to write the price for us. At least they use numerals.
At Ben Tre, at 12:30PM Vietnam time, we called it a day. Sweating buckets and drinking bottles of water under the overly vibrant sun, I happen to see the word "Hotel" mixed with all the Vietnamese jibberish. We enter and a petite woman seemed to understand that we wanted a room, so she showed us one: air conditioning, fridge, beautifully remodeled toilet and shower. She wrote 160,000 on a piece of paper ($10!) Great! We smiled at her and nodded yes. As soon as she shut the door we began shedding our wet sweaty clothes and jumped into the shower. We also dumped all the dirty clothes in the shower with us and washed them. Without breakfast, Steve began to roar with hunger and we walked towards the market. Being illiterate was harder than we had imagined.
In the market, we pointed to some of the hairy ball fruits we recognized from our time in Honduras. I pointed to a weird spikey red fruit that matched the guidebook description of the must-try dragon fruit that supposedly resembles that of a kiwi. I also spotted peanuts and pointed to a giant bag of them. Steve calmed his hungry with a licha (red hairy fruit) and I cracked into a peanut shell and not yum! It was squishy and soft inside. "What is wrong with these peanuts?" I exclaimed. Then it dawned on me...usually peanuts are roasted. These were raw peanuts. We sat down by some tables where people were eating and smiled. I recognized the word "Pho" for soup. When the lady aproached us, we both said "Pho". She stared at us blankly, I guess we didn't say it correctly. So we pointed to a bowl of soup somebody else had. I tried to say "An Chay" for vegetarian in Vietnamese to no success. A minute later, she returned with a beef noodle soup. We politely smiled and ate the noodles. They were strange, thick, and bright white in color and took the flavor a sweet onion. Still hungry, we head back inside the market, and there, lit up like a treasure, was a huge bag of cashews. We pointed and made a shape of a small bag. We also pointed to a box of raisins. We successfully celebrated our purcheses and devoured the biggest cashews you've ever seen!
It's getting late after 11pm local time and we're off to rest in preparation for tomorrow's bike ride.
Bicycling in Ho Chi Minh City
Day 2:
MI time: 11:20 a.m.
Local Vietnam Time: 10:20 p.m.
Date: August 18, 2008
After enjoying curry veggies and reice at our Indian Restaurant, we jumped into our internet cafe ready to send out our first blog. Well, almost ready anyway as soon as I am finished painting you a picture of today with my words as a paintbrush. If I could paint a picture of today it would be vibrant and chaotic with lots of colors.
We started our morning at seven a.m. The hotel (Ha Vy, $10 a night with fan) provided us with free breakfast. I really thought it would be rice with fish, but to my delightful surprise breakfast was a bread roll, strawberry jelly and peanut butter. Oh and coffee with sweet condensed milk. I only put a couple of drops in mine, but apparently, the same canned condensed milk we use for baking purposes is used for everyday coffee.
We both stared at the huge cardboard boxes in the hotel lobby. Steve's box had a huge cut in the side. On mine the metal mount on the tire was poking through the side of the box. What if our poor bikes did not survive the journey in good health? To our delight, ripping off all the tape revealed the same enjoyment as opening christmas presents: joy! Especially when we discovered how easy putting together the bicycles was. We even gave them a quick test run. The experience of riding my bicycle in Ho Chi Minh City for the first time is a memory that I will not forget. Steve had just tightened the seat and squeezed the front tire. "I think your bicycle is done," Steve said.
"Then I will give it a test run!" I stated.
"You're crazy, unless you wanna get killed you better be kidding me!"
"Actually, I am serious. I will just go to the corner and back."
I carefully veared to right out of the hotel lobby, hugging the right side of the road as much as I could while a parade of motos circled around me. I did exactly as I had read in the Lonely Planet Guide Book about "how to walk in Ho Chi Minh City." Go in a straight line without sudden movement so as others can easily go around you. Five minutes later, I arrived safely at the hotel and it was Steve's turn. After five minutes of cycling up and down the supposedly "low traffic" street in front of our hotel we were done biking for the day! We both felt funny from the 11 hour time change and overwhelmed with the constant motor bike parade. We spent all day walking and practicing how to cross the street! Crossing the street with a CONSTANT flow of mopeds reminds me of an ATARI game I used to play as a kid where the player was a chicken and had to cross the street. Each time you successfully crossed the street you would advance a level and the traffic would become more intense. So here I was in Ho Chi Minh City; a chicken locked into a video game crossing the street at the most advanced level. We stood there at the curbside waiting for a break in traffic. Five minutes passed. Still a steady flow of chaos. Then a local stepped beside us. She waited for maybe ten seconds and stepped into the street. We locked hands and became her ducklings, following her closely. I felt stuck in a beehive with ZZZ of the motors engulfing me. We kept a slow pace as they all zoomed around us. I sighed in relief. We had made it acrost our first street. My relief lasted only a block as we aproached another intersection. We acted as ducklings once again and follwed a local Vietnamese closely at a slow steady pace. Once, I looked to my right and saw a swarm of mopeds and froze! A mistake! BEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEEP! The moped swerved rapidly, avoiding me. Note to self: Never stop! Keeping a steady rhythm helps the moped drivers anticipate to veer slightly to the right or left to avoid me. Stopping throws them off. The next intersection, we were "big kids" and crossed the street all by ourselves! We held hands and just walked real slow, almost pretending NOT to see the traffic and we made it!
FIRST STOP: market. One of my teacher friends at Lincoln teaches a lot about Vietnam and requested that I send her some typical things. So my first interaction with locals besides with the taxi driver and at the hotel was at the market. We entered the huge cement structure and were welcomed by a myriad of clothes, bags, fruit, vegetables, meat, fish, oysters, rice, cashews, sandals--you name it! Peaople beckoned us to look and enter into their stalls. I felt overwhelmed. Steve and I walked in silence.
"Aren't you going to buy something for your friend?" Steve asked.
"I don't know how to!" I exclaimed, wide-eyed. We continued window shopping /wandering through the market two or three times until I had picked out in my mind exactly what I wanted to buy. Some really beautiful plates caught my attention. They reminded me vaguely of the plates they used in the Japanese restaurant in kalamazoo called Sushia. I also had in mind to buy some of the bamboo hats that all the local women were wearing. Wall hangings depicting typical scenery were also a must have.
"So yes, Steve," I stated, "These are the things I decided on. Now all we have to do is step out of the shy stage and actually buy them." We walked up to a lady and asked, "How much are the plates."
"duakuwanquozua!" She replied or something to that effect. Steve and I smiled blankly at her. Then we had a brighter idea. We walked up to her plates and pointed at them. She came to us with her calculator and typed the number 120,000. With 16,000 dong to a dollar, we figured the price to be under $10. We smiled at her, picked up her plates, and nodded yes. She uynderstood and packaged up the plates for us. Little by little with a series of pointing and smiling, we managed to purchase all of our items. On the tourist street, we became best buddies with the indian restaurants, and ate just like at our favorite restaurant in Kalamazoo called Saffron for under $5. We enjoyed rice, naan, curry and vegetables. And then a big boo boo. AFTER the spicy indian cuisine, I felt like something juicy and sweet. Anyone that knows me knows that I absolutely love grapes. So I found some in a supermarket.
"Teresa, maybe the grapes are not the greatest idea. The guidebook always says peel it, boil it, or loose it, " Steve Said
"No, no, Esteban, these grapes are fine. They are bagged and from a supermarket. I will even wash them with some of your distilled water."
Well, as it turns out Steve was right. No more grapes for me.
Lets just say it as sweet as possible. That evening I was up with the hershey squirts.
MI time: 11:20 a.m.
Local Vietnam Time: 10:20 p.m.
Date: August 18, 2008
After enjoying curry veggies and reice at our Indian Restaurant, we jumped into our internet cafe ready to send out our first blog. Well, almost ready anyway as soon as I am finished painting you a picture of today with my words as a paintbrush. If I could paint a picture of today it would be vibrant and chaotic with lots of colors.
We started our morning at seven a.m. The hotel (Ha Vy, $10 a night with fan) provided us with free breakfast. I really thought it would be rice with fish, but to my delightful surprise breakfast was a bread roll, strawberry jelly and peanut butter. Oh and coffee with sweet condensed milk. I only put a couple of drops in mine, but apparently, the same canned condensed milk we use for baking purposes is used for everyday coffee.
We both stared at the huge cardboard boxes in the hotel lobby. Steve's box had a huge cut in the side. On mine the metal mount on the tire was poking through the side of the box. What if our poor bikes did not survive the journey in good health? To our delight, ripping off all the tape revealed the same enjoyment as opening christmas presents: joy! Especially when we discovered how easy putting together the bicycles was. We even gave them a quick test run. The experience of riding my bicycle in Ho Chi Minh City for the first time is a memory that I will not forget. Steve had just tightened the seat and squeezed the front tire. "I think your bicycle is done," Steve said.
"Then I will give it a test run!" I stated.
"You're crazy, unless you wanna get killed you better be kidding me!"
"Actually, I am serious. I will just go to the corner and back."
I carefully veared to right out of the hotel lobby, hugging the right side of the road as much as I could while a parade of motos circled around me. I did exactly as I had read in the Lonely Planet Guide Book about "how to walk in Ho Chi Minh City." Go in a straight line without sudden movement so as others can easily go around you. Five minutes later, I arrived safely at the hotel and it was Steve's turn. After five minutes of cycling up and down the supposedly "low traffic" street in front of our hotel we were done biking for the day! We both felt funny from the 11 hour time change and overwhelmed with the constant motor bike parade. We spent all day walking and practicing how to cross the street! Crossing the street with a CONSTANT flow of mopeds reminds me of an ATARI game I used to play as a kid where the player was a chicken and had to cross the street. Each time you successfully crossed the street you would advance a level and the traffic would become more intense. So here I was in Ho Chi Minh City; a chicken locked into a video game crossing the street at the most advanced level. We stood there at the curbside waiting for a break in traffic. Five minutes passed. Still a steady flow of chaos. Then a local stepped beside us. She waited for maybe ten seconds and stepped into the street. We locked hands and became her ducklings, following her closely. I felt stuck in a beehive with ZZZ of the motors engulfing me. We kept a slow pace as they all zoomed around us. I sighed in relief. We had made it acrost our first street. My relief lasted only a block as we aproached another intersection. We acted as ducklings once again and follwed a local Vietnamese closely at a slow steady pace. Once, I looked to my right and saw a swarm of mopeds and froze! A mistake! BEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEEP! The moped swerved rapidly, avoiding me. Note to self: Never stop! Keeping a steady rhythm helps the moped drivers anticipate to veer slightly to the right or left to avoid me. Stopping throws them off. The next intersection, we were "big kids" and crossed the street all by ourselves! We held hands and just walked real slow, almost pretending NOT to see the traffic and we made it!
FIRST STOP: market. One of my teacher friends at Lincoln teaches a lot about Vietnam and requested that I send her some typical things. So my first interaction with locals besides with the taxi driver and at the hotel was at the market. We entered the huge cement structure and were welcomed by a myriad of clothes, bags, fruit, vegetables, meat, fish, oysters, rice, cashews, sandals--you name it! Peaople beckoned us to look and enter into their stalls. I felt overwhelmed. Steve and I walked in silence.
"Aren't you going to buy something for your friend?" Steve asked.
"I don't know how to!" I exclaimed, wide-eyed. We continued window shopping /wandering through the market two or three times until I had picked out in my mind exactly what I wanted to buy. Some really beautiful plates caught my attention. They reminded me vaguely of the plates they used in the Japanese restaurant in kalamazoo called Sushia. I also had in mind to buy some of the bamboo hats that all the local women were wearing. Wall hangings depicting typical scenery were also a must have.
"So yes, Steve," I stated, "These are the things I decided on. Now all we have to do is step out of the shy stage and actually buy them." We walked up to a lady and asked, "How much are the plates."
"duakuwanquozua!" She replied or something to that effect. Steve and I smiled blankly at her. Then we had a brighter idea. We walked up to her plates and pointed at them. She came to us with her calculator and typed the number 120,000. With 16,000 dong to a dollar, we figured the price to be under $10. We smiled at her, picked up her plates, and nodded yes. She uynderstood and packaged up the plates for us. Little by little with a series of pointing and smiling, we managed to purchase all of our items. On the tourist street, we became best buddies with the indian restaurants, and ate just like at our favorite restaurant in Kalamazoo called Saffron for under $5. We enjoyed rice, naan, curry and vegetables. And then a big boo boo. AFTER the spicy indian cuisine, I felt like something juicy and sweet. Anyone that knows me knows that I absolutely love grapes. So I found some in a supermarket.
"Teresa, maybe the grapes are not the greatest idea. The guidebook always says peel it, boil it, or loose it, " Steve Said
"No, no, Esteban, these grapes are fine. They are bagged and from a supermarket. I will even wash them with some of your distilled water."
Well, as it turns out Steve was right. No more grapes for me.
Lets just say it as sweet as possible. That evening I was up with the hershey squirts.
Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City
MI time: 9:00 AM
Local Vietnam time: 8:00PM
Date: 16-Aug-08
Location: Indian restaurant, Ho Chi Minh overlooking crowded street with constant motorcycle traffic.
We survived aour 1st day here and really enjoyed exploring a new foreign place.
Dear reader, I left you with my thoughts snoozing and dazing off on the airplane between Tokyo and Ho Chi Minh. I'll take you now to the moment when the voice on the intercom woke me. "prepare for landing" followed by all the gibberish of Vietnamese that I could never untangle.
For the record, ANA airlines was like a "5 star hotel" with regard to their excellent service. Free wine every little while, coffee or green tea, on-demand movies, pillows and blankets, complimentary earphones, everything.
So we had a safe landing as I squeezed Steve's hand. I remember standing up initially with a wobble in my step from sitting so long. Next: a game of pacman like race through the maze of security, baggage claims, immigration, customs...it all was very smooth. One step at a time in conjunction with pointing and smiling the customs officer waved us through, no questions asked!
We were very happy to re-unite with our bicycles after having been very worried that they would be lost or damaged. We walked out of the airport at 11:30PM into a sea of smiling faces welcoming relatives and missed loved ones and a a white sign that read "Mr. Steven Ha Vy hotel." We waved at him in acknowledgement, he waved back and said "you waiting here I get car." After a while, I asked "where did he go?"
"I don't know" Steve replied.
"I'm sure he will be back with his car in a minute" I said.
Across the road a small round faced man waved at us. "They're he is" we both exclaimed.
WE pushed one cart to cross the road and he helped us load the bikes into his car. "We are finally on our way and off the airplane!" I said happily. The man reached forward and set the meter.
"Where you go?" the man asked. Steve and I looked at each other confused. Didn't the man just have our hotel name on his sign?
"Which hotel you go?" the man repeated.
Then it dawned on us n. We had gotten into a taxi driver's car. We had confused the taxi driver with our hotel representative.
"Oh... Uh.... I'm sorry. so sorry..."Steve stated, "We are in the wrong car."
"So sorry," I repeated as we unloaded the bikes and boxes leaving the taxi driver confused. We looked up again and there was our real hotel representative holding the sign with his car near where we had been waiting before.
Our woes of being confused were soon put to rest. Our jolly driver who didn't know much English began singing every English love song that he had memorized: Yesterday by the Beatles, By the Rivers of Babelon... Then he pulled out a folded piece of paper from the glove compartment that read, "Song List."
"Together we sing song you like," he stated. So that was a moment to remember. Singing with our taxi driver while dodging motos and darting left and right through the light midnight traffic to our hotel.
"A lot of motos," I commented.
"No moto, no girlfriend," he stated with a laugh. Supposedly there are three million motorcycles in Ho Chi Minh City!
"With these many motos at night, I can only imagine how bad the traffic must be during the day," Steve commented.
"Much traffic. Be careful to crossing street."
"Thank you so much," I said, "How do you say thank you in Vietnamese?"
"Kham Urn!" he replied.
"Kham Urn," I spoke my first Vietnamese words of thank you.
Kham Urn--many thankyous to all of your emails and love that will give us the power and adrenaline to keep peddling!
Local Vietnam time: 8:00PM
Date: 16-Aug-08
Location: Indian restaurant, Ho Chi Minh overlooking crowded street with constant motorcycle traffic.
We survived aour 1st day here and really enjoyed exploring a new foreign place.
Dear reader, I left you with my thoughts snoozing and dazing off on the airplane between Tokyo and Ho Chi Minh. I'll take you now to the moment when the voice on the intercom woke me. "prepare for landing" followed by all the gibberish of Vietnamese that I could never untangle.
For the record, ANA airlines was like a "5 star hotel" with regard to their excellent service. Free wine every little while, coffee or green tea, on-demand movies, pillows and blankets, complimentary earphones, everything.
So we had a safe landing as I squeezed Steve's hand. I remember standing up initially with a wobble in my step from sitting so long. Next: a game of pacman like race through the maze of security, baggage claims, immigration, customs...it all was very smooth. One step at a time in conjunction with pointing and smiling the customs officer waved us through, no questions asked!
We were very happy to re-unite with our bicycles after having been very worried that they would be lost or damaged. We walked out of the airport at 11:30PM into a sea of smiling faces welcoming relatives and missed loved ones and a a white sign that read "Mr. Steven Ha Vy hotel." We waved at him in acknowledgement, he waved back and said "you waiting here I get car." After a while, I asked "where did he go?"
"I don't know" Steve replied.
"I'm sure he will be back with his car in a minute" I said.
Across the road a small round faced man waved at us. "They're he is" we both exclaimed.
WE pushed one cart to cross the road and he helped us load the bikes into his car. "We are finally on our way and off the airplane!" I said happily. The man reached forward and set the meter.
"Where you go?" the man asked. Steve and I looked at each other confused. Didn't the man just have our hotel name on his sign?
"Which hotel you go?" the man repeated.
Then it dawned on us n. We had gotten into a taxi driver's car. We had confused the taxi driver with our hotel representative.
"Oh... Uh.... I'm sorry. so sorry..."Steve stated, "We are in the wrong car."
"So sorry," I repeated as we unloaded the bikes and boxes leaving the taxi driver confused. We looked up again and there was our real hotel representative holding the sign with his car near where we had been waiting before.
Our woes of being confused were soon put to rest. Our jolly driver who didn't know much English began singing every English love song that he had memorized: Yesterday by the Beatles, By the Rivers of Babelon... Then he pulled out a folded piece of paper from the glove compartment that read, "Song List."
"Together we sing song you like," he stated. So that was a moment to remember. Singing with our taxi driver while dodging motos and darting left and right through the light midnight traffic to our hotel.
"A lot of motos," I commented.
"No moto, no girlfriend," he stated with a laugh. Supposedly there are three million motorcycles in Ho Chi Minh City!
"With these many motos at night, I can only imagine how bad the traffic must be during the day," Steve commented.
"Much traffic. Be careful to crossing street."
"Thank you so much," I said, "How do you say thank you in Vietnamese?"
"Kham Urn!" he replied.
"Kham Urn," I spoke my first Vietnamese words of thank you.
Kham Urn--many thankyous to all of your emails and love that will give us the power and adrenaline to keep peddling!
miércoles, 18 de junio de 2008
The never ending airplane journey
June 16th 2008
Michigan time: 06.29pm.
At 4:10 Am this morning, we awoke to the loud, beep beep beep of the alarm clock.
My first instinctive thought was: "NO! I don't want to go to school!!" Usually, each morning we awake to the alarm clock, jump into our clothes, grab good old peanut butter jelly, toast, or yogurt and rush off to our jobs. I rush to my group of second grade monsters and Steve flies off to his customers that roar with fire about payments and loans in the call center. BUT NOT TODAY! Oh right, it is summer vacation. The day of our departure for our crazy South East Asia bike trip! The reality set in and ignited all my emotions at once: excitement, anxiety, the love of adventure, the fear of the unknown. A burst of adrenaline sent me hopping out of bed and to my feet. Laying in bed at midnight, I had went through my mind with a list of morning "to dos" and amazingly , they popped into my head immediately-- SSWW (shorts, sheet, wallet, and watch!) Everything was packed. It was really not that difficult when all we could take we HAD to carry for the entire trip on our bicycles. Gy came punctually to pick us up in her white van and by five a.m., we were rolling down a lonely Westnedge Ave. Usually bustling with traffic, the street was so empty it looked like a parking lot. The wee hours of driving to Chicago- O hare airport tip-toed away while we discussed everything from travel dreams, fears, and Hungarian music with Gy. We thank Gy for her love and positive energy to make the very first leg of our travel a fun and beautiful memory.
9:00 a.m. Kalamazoo time we pulled into the front of terminal one at O'hare airport. "What if they wouldn't accept our bicycles? Are they packaged ok with the cardboard boxes? How on earth are we going to fly 13 hours? It will be my longest flight ever. I felt anxiety and excitement, happiness all at once. Together all of these emotions compiled a recipe for a solution similar to an energy drink. We taped all our boxes closed while waiting in the check in line. A round-faced gentleman called us politely to the counter. An assistant taped our boxes again with airline tape with ANA written all over it. A dog to our right inside of a carrier/cage barked.
"It the dog yours too?" the man asked.
"No!" Steve grinned, "traveling with two bicycles is enough trouble."
"Do you live in Vietnam?"
"No! We live in the United States."
"We are going to a bicycle through Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand," I offered.
"Awesome!" the gentleman replied warmly. "Have you ever flown with ANA airlines before?"
"No!" I stated anxiously, "I am actually worried about the long thirteen hour flight."
"Oh, flying ANA is like a five star hotel!" he replied kindly.
We put each bicycle on the scale one at a time. With my bicycle, we had packed all the tools. My bicycle weighted 17 kilos. Just like that the boxes and bicycles were checked! We took a photograph with Gy. Checking in and passing through security was a breeze.
So the thirteen hour flight... Well, I HATE sitting. I I purposely slept only five hours of less each night on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. My dream wasw to sleep most of the thirteen hours out of pure exhaustion.
We had a couple of hours to wait in Chicago before boarding and of course there are Starbucks Coffee Shops popping out of every gateway and corner in the airport luring me with the aroma of freshly brewed espresso/mochas. Thanks to Kerri Grabiec's suggestion, I tried a double shot espresso on ice. So maybe it was that double shot of espresso or maybe it was just the adrenaline of traveling but after watching FIVE movies (Jumping, 27 dresses, Just for laughs, Bucket, and Vantage Point) I AM CURRENTLY STILL SITTING HERE AWAKE!! I'm excited for our landing in Ho Chi Minh City. Those first few minutes of becoming aquainted with a new place... How will it feel? I imagine there to be narrow streets with bikes, carts, cars, vendors crowding every block and corner. Of course, we will be landing at 11:00/midnight... So it might feel like a ghost city. We made reservations online with a hotel recommended by our lonely planet guidebook to also pick us up in a minivan. Although the airport is only 4 miles from the hotel and I would LOVE to walk/bike it especially after more than 18 hours of sitting, I don't know how safe it is in the neighborhood between the airport and the town center, so late at night.
Flight from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh city. Time: 10:40 AM Michigan time, 9:40PM Vietnam time. We only have about 1 hour to go. We have slept almost the entire journey from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh, eyelids are still heavy.
Ok, the internet is closing so I will have to drop you all there and write you later. We are here safe in Ho Chi Minh city enjoying new sites and wishing you all well in Michigan Love, T and Steve
Michigan time: 06.29pm.
At 4:10 Am this morning, we awoke to the loud, beep beep beep of the alarm clock.
My first instinctive thought was: "NO! I don't want to go to school!!" Usually, each morning we awake to the alarm clock, jump into our clothes, grab good old peanut butter jelly, toast, or yogurt and rush off to our jobs. I rush to my group of second grade monsters and Steve flies off to his customers that roar with fire about payments and loans in the call center. BUT NOT TODAY! Oh right, it is summer vacation. The day of our departure for our crazy South East Asia bike trip! The reality set in and ignited all my emotions at once: excitement, anxiety, the love of adventure, the fear of the unknown. A burst of adrenaline sent me hopping out of bed and to my feet. Laying in bed at midnight, I had went through my mind with a list of morning "to dos" and amazingly , they popped into my head immediately-- SSWW (shorts, sheet, wallet, and watch!) Everything was packed. It was really not that difficult when all we could take we HAD to carry for the entire trip on our bicycles. Gy came punctually to pick us up in her white van and by five a.m., we were rolling down a lonely Westnedge Ave. Usually bustling with traffic, the street was so empty it looked like a parking lot. The wee hours of driving to Chicago- O hare airport tip-toed away while we discussed everything from travel dreams, fears, and Hungarian music with Gy. We thank Gy for her love and positive energy to make the very first leg of our travel a fun and beautiful memory.
9:00 a.m. Kalamazoo time we pulled into the front of terminal one at O'hare airport. "What if they wouldn't accept our bicycles? Are they packaged ok with the cardboard boxes? How on earth are we going to fly 13 hours? It will be my longest flight ever. I felt anxiety and excitement, happiness all at once. Together all of these emotions compiled a recipe for a solution similar to an energy drink. We taped all our boxes closed while waiting in the check in line. A round-faced gentleman called us politely to the counter. An assistant taped our boxes again with airline tape with ANA written all over it. A dog to our right inside of a carrier/cage barked.
"It the dog yours too?" the man asked.
"No!" Steve grinned, "traveling with two bicycles is enough trouble."
"Do you live in Vietnam?"
"No! We live in the United States."
"We are going to a bicycle through Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand," I offered.
"Awesome!" the gentleman replied warmly. "Have you ever flown with ANA airlines before?"
"No!" I stated anxiously, "I am actually worried about the long thirteen hour flight."
"Oh, flying ANA is like a five star hotel!" he replied kindly.
We put each bicycle on the scale one at a time. With my bicycle, we had packed all the tools. My bicycle weighted 17 kilos. Just like that the boxes and bicycles were checked! We took a photograph with Gy. Checking in and passing through security was a breeze.
So the thirteen hour flight... Well, I HATE sitting. I I purposely slept only five hours of less each night on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. My dream wasw to sleep most of the thirteen hours out of pure exhaustion.
We had a couple of hours to wait in Chicago before boarding and of course there are Starbucks Coffee Shops popping out of every gateway and corner in the airport luring me with the aroma of freshly brewed espresso/mochas. Thanks to Kerri Grabiec's suggestion, I tried a double shot espresso on ice. So maybe it was that double shot of espresso or maybe it was just the adrenaline of traveling but after watching FIVE movies (Jumping, 27 dresses, Just for laughs, Bucket, and Vantage Point) I AM CURRENTLY STILL SITTING HERE AWAKE!! I'm excited for our landing in Ho Chi Minh City. Those first few minutes of becoming aquainted with a new place... How will it feel? I imagine there to be narrow streets with bikes, carts, cars, vendors crowding every block and corner. Of course, we will be landing at 11:00/midnight... So it might feel like a ghost city. We made reservations online with a hotel recommended by our lonely planet guidebook to also pick us up in a minivan. Although the airport is only 4 miles from the hotel and I would LOVE to walk/bike it especially after more than 18 hours of sitting, I don't know how safe it is in the neighborhood between the airport and the town center, so late at night.
Flight from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh city. Time: 10:40 AM Michigan time, 9:40PM Vietnam time. We only have about 1 hour to go. We have slept almost the entire journey from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh, eyelids are still heavy.
Ok, the internet is closing so I will have to drop you all there and write you later. We are here safe in Ho Chi Minh city enjoying new sites and wishing you all well in Michigan Love, T and Steve
martes, 10 de junio de 2008
Dreaming and Drinking Coffee at Waterstreet Cafe
It all started as a dream. We yearn for adventure. We yearn for an escape from routine. We yearn to learn about the mystery of the world that seems so foreign. In the cold crisp months of December, we dreamed of biking across the United States. It would take four months to bike the entire United States... Or maybe we could bike Spain and Portugal... Or maybe we could forget the bike adventure, and travel to India. So many dreams. What about South East Asia? Could we bike it in the rainy season? We don't speak a lick of Vietnamese. Dreams of tropical places over cold wintery nights and coffee. Dreams that floated their way into reality and to a simple 'click' on the computer screen, purchasing plane tickets. Steve, what did you just do? "I spent 3800 dollars in one click."
So here we are again at our favorite coffee place, drinking coffee and it's hard to believe that in less than a week the familiarity of our lives will do a sommersault. Three more days of teaching my little second grade monsters. Three more days of phone calls at the bank. Then, I don't know what? I guess, we will both have to wait and see what the next journal entry brings... For now, we leave you with lots of love and wishes for a peaceful evening below a clear sky with a gentle early summer's breeze.
So here we are again at our favorite coffee place, drinking coffee and it's hard to believe that in less than a week the familiarity of our lives will do a sommersault. Three more days of teaching my little second grade monsters. Three more days of phone calls at the bank. Then, I don't know what? I guess, we will both have to wait and see what the next journal entry brings... For now, we leave you with lots of love and wishes for a peaceful evening below a clear sky with a gentle early summer's breeze.
lunes, 9 de junio de 2008
People are people
Where did we get the idea to bicycle in
…on a late night’s walk home from Waterstreet after drinking large mochas, I say to Steve, “You know, I haven’t been this nervous before about a trip. I am worried about biking all that way. I mean, really, we have no arrangements made or hotel reservations. Can I even ride my bicycle all that way? What if the people don’t like Americans?”
“We must remember,” Steve replies calmly, “People are people all over the world and most of them are good.”
During the cold dreary months of
“Yeah, and then we can cycle from
I read the book, “Miles to Nowhere,” about a couple from
“Let’s do it! Let’s cycle across the world!” I exclaim.
“Let’s not!” Steve replies.
After school, I begin researching bicycle tours around the world. I read journals from people that had bicycled through
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