When in Hanoi, there are two things you must do. One of them is visit the Ho Chi Minh Musuem. It’s pretty freakin’ crazy. The first floor is all photographs of “Uncle Ho” here and there with various farmers or peasants or babies with plenty of reading material alongside.

The man himself

The second floor is more like an art exhibit/experience than a museum. Plenty of socialist idealism and discussions of how Vietnam was to be the savior and bearer of peace for the whole world. A weird but definitely interesting experience.

Replica of his house

Volcano spewing Vietnamese ideals... seriously

Nuclear explosion with flashing anti-American images.....feels a little uncomfortable

With enough anti-American sentiment under our belt, compliments of Uncle Ho’s Museum, we hit the traditional water puppet show this evening. Tickets are incredibly cheap, from 40,000-60,000 dong (that’s roughly US$2-3) and the show lasts one hour. It’s a pretty entertaining little show with the live traditional music that accompanies the puppets.

Puppet boat

Dancing water puppets

The puppetiers

A market in Hanoi is a unique place. Like a whirling planet of activity all happening within the confines of a thimble. The aisles are so cramped that a single person can barely squeeze through, and just imagine what happens when someone stops to look at something in one of those tiny aisle shops.

The eye of the storm

Inside a large dingy building the market buzzes with life from inhumanly early til late in evening, selling everything from hair scrunchies, wristwatches and dust masks to funny Asian hats (they are all about the hat here), shoes, and luggage. Amazingly we didn’t buy a single thing because most of what is being peddled here is junk. Occasionally there is something decent quality but more often than not, even the cheap junk is overpriced and looks as if it might fall apart if you look at it the wrong way.

In the market

Still it was an interesting place to get into and certainly a good place to get in with the people of Hanoi since there were exactly 2 foreigners present (um, that would be us). We got some funny looks and some funny prices too and eventually made our way out through the jam packed aisles and over the ankle deep garbage littering the floor from all the packaging. Stepping back outside into the streets made us realize the market was just a shrunken version of Hanoi. Same trash, noise, buzz of activity, same close quarters, self-centered people, just less mopeds.

At 6:30am, we pulled into Hanoi. Well, more like 25km outside Hanoi city. It was still dark and we were still kind of asleep when we shared a taxi with someone to downtown to try to find a place to sleep for the night. At least we were getting any early start!

Streets of Hanoi

We got a “cheap room” the manager called it, for $6 with wifi, hot shower, and TV—whoa now! Granted, it was pretty shabby and there was definitely someone else’s hair in the sheets and the door doesn’t actually close and but hey, it’s the penthouse suite! Stair-access only, up 7 floors. A good view right? Hanoi isn’t really a place for “good views.” It is hazy and overcast from sun up to sun down. Not to mention that it is freakin’ cold here! What happened to all those people who said, “Oh yeah, Hanoi is sweltering hot this time of year.”?!

Street cat

Anyway, our first day in Vietnam. What a surprise! It is not like any other Asian country we have been to. It’s not western but heavily western influenced, with a large side of Socialist art and propaganda covering the city. A weird mixture to be sure but not at all unpleasant. The parks are not as sterile and concrete as China’s are; the people don’t stare as much, they don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk unexpectedly like a lot of other Asian countries, but they still walk incredibly slow and take up the entire sidewalk (well, where one exists) and act generally unfriendly and rude on the streets according to western manners.

Hanoi traffic

We are not saying they are rude or even unfriendly but they are not very giving when it comes to sharing space, smiling or even looking somewhat approachable, and they certainly don’t “see” other people as they are moving through the streets. A typical self-oriented Asian culture. But they are nice enough to talk to, service in restaurants is very good, not like in Lao where if they see you looking straight at them they will literally leap into some hiding spot and wait until you are either (a) not looking anymore, or (b) you are so hungry that you have to leave the restaurant to find somewhere else to eat before you croak.

Lindsey in the cafe

Traffic here in Hanoi is absolutely insane. Lanes do not exist and traffic signs and lights are so rare that you would be hard pressed to find even one of either. Mopeds outnumber cars, buses, pedestrians and the brave folks on bicycles by the hundreds. It is a free-for-all when it comes to driving. Anywhere is game and the sidewalks are strictly for parking mopeds. Horn honking is extraordinarily loud and overused and if you are one of the unfortunate fools walking around Hanoi, you had better be very brave and very predictable. Otherwise you will likely end up with your spine lying in a big twisted knot on the ground as you go by, all compliments of 85 mopeds whizzing by willy nilly. And for crossing the infamously huge intersections of Hanoi, really it is best to just go for it. Traffic will indeed part for you. One very important thing to know: never ever cross in front of a bus (mini or full size) or a taxi. They will actually go out of their way to run over you. Bus drivers are universally maniacal because they are dealing with stupid people all day long and that makes anyone angry and a bit crazed.

Mopeds in Hanoi

So our stroll around the neighborhood to see what was around turned into a several hours long trek through madness and getting-lost-ness because every shop, hotel, and tour agency in Hanoi is named exactly the same thing. Same signs too. All in all, Hanoi is a a crazy place with relatively little to see and do but a place that you just can’t miss. It’s the city itself that is the draw. First order of business, get a bloody map.

With some early morning negotiation powers we arranged a visa pick up, a stop at the concrete monster called Victory Gate, and then back to where we started for 30,000 Kip/pp. Of course we had to insist that we would only take 5 minutes at the embassy and 10 minutes at Victory Gate, which we did at both places. We scurried up the 7 stories of Victory Gate and back down in record time, much to our tuk tuk driver’s pleasure. Easy money for him, power sightseeing for us.

Victory gate

Unfortunately, today was a hurry up and wait kind of day. We had to get the visas before the embassy closed for the day and then had to wait for our night bus at 7PM to Phonsavan. The bus was, as expected of any Lao bus, utterly miserable and suicide-inducing.

View across Vientiane

In fact we stopped in the middle of the night to install a DVD player so we could listen to the sweet tunes of Lao music the rest of the night. By the time we arrived in Phonsavan we were clawing at the windows. Glad to get to Phonsavan is an understatement.

Two travel days right in a row. Yuck! We just can’t seem to sit still! On the way from Muang Sing to Luang Nam Tha, we were stuffed into an 11 passenger van that was actually transporting 16 passengers. Saben’s seat was a fold down metal bar and Lin’s was some random part of the van behind the front reclined-passenger seat, facing the other 15 passengers.

Girl waiting at the bus stop

With one of many unscheduled stops on the 2 hour journey, the driver bought 2 chickens from a sizable pile of other dead birds and animals. One of the other passengers bought a dead leopard cat for its fur. A nice looking fur but a little limp. The poachers obviously wouldn’t let us take any photos but pretty neat just the same.

Lao Laap, fried chicken

In Nam Tha, we dropped the bags in yet another guest house and get some lunch. Next day was a shitty 10 hour day filled with the sounds of Lao music videos. A full, un-ending 10 hours of suicide inducing behavior in futile attempts to just make it stop. If you have never seen a Lao music video, think of the worst 1980s American music video you can recall. Then multiply the lameness of it by 288, add some Lao lyrics, and perpetual slow motion. There, now you’ve got a Lao music video! They all look like something a 6th grader would put together sometime in early 1991. It’s honestly beyond painful. If the bus had been going fast enough, we would have happily thrown ourselves from the windows in hopes of the tires smashing us to bits. Instead, we arrived fully in tact at Luang Prabang well after dark. We ate dinner at a tent in the market. It was a chicken sandwich with lots of flies crawling all over. Tasty.

After a soggy breakfast of foul-tasting eggs, we walked to the market. This time of year there isn’t much to it—a few clothing and household good vendors, a few fruit sellers, and a couple of random-pieces-of-meat salesmen.

Not much in the market

In lieu of a costly tour, we decided to rent a motorbike and just drive ourselves around the area and see what we might come across. Just across from the market are two motorbike places that seem to sell, repair and rent all in one location. No one speaks English but they always have a calculator handy to tell you prices.

Up through the mountains

After overpaying for the rental and quite possibly also the gasoline at the filling station, we were off. A bit unsteady and a little jerky but still, we were off! The motorbikes available to rent are neither full on motorcycles nor regular mopeds. Instead they are manual shifting clutchless contraptions that take a bit of getting used to.

Us on our bumpy steed

We sped out of town and back toward Luang Nam Tha with frozen tears streaming across our faces and shivering violently. Despite the very hot sunshine yesterday when we arrived, this morning we woke up to a foggy very cold pants-and-sweaters morning. We expected it to warm up as the day went on but that never happened. We had the winding mountain road mostly to ourselves; there is so little traffic in Laos and that only consists of a few motorbikes and even fewer local buses. We sped by sprawling watermelon fields and farmers re-cutting the hill terraces in preparation for springtime planting. There were young children walking along the dirt roads who shouted “saibadee!” (hello) as we passed and the older kids and parents going in or out of the fields. Sugar cane, rubber trees, early corn, and melons cover the countryside. The mountains make for challenging work but the people use the land however they can.

Path through the country

The entire day we spent driving around Muang Sing and passed through several villages. Though we would have likely been warmly welcomed, we chose not to stop into any of the villages and disrupt the farm work and other daily chores going on. We received countless odd looks, a few waves and hellos but surprisingly, no one found us odd enough to stare at. The people we passed seemed to notice us about as much as anything else that might pass through their sightline in a given day, despite the fact that there are so few foreigners in Laos and certainly fewer out in the countryside. We didn’t pass any others all day, only locals but our guess is that the tours offered in town are meant to allow outsiders a look at traditional Lao life within certain willing villages who can profit from the exchange when tourists buy trinkets or fruit inside the village.

Girl selling trinkets by the road

The villages themselves are all small, each one consisting of something like 50-60 people (but that is only an estimate based on what we saw). There are plenty of kids out here and even as young as 6-7 they are often working in the fields alongside their parents and relatives. The villages themselves are large dirt compounds with grey and brown houses, usually set up on 9-10 foot high stilts. The houses are made of wood and palms sometimes as well. Hens and their cheeping chicks, fat pigs and piglets, an odd goat here or there, babies, and plenty of dogs can all be seen running around the compounds all day long. Everything is so dusty here and coated in a thin brown film. The villagers don’t smile much but they don’t seem unfriendly, maybe just more curious than unwelcoming. Most are busy working on chores and projects—taking care of the pantless babies dawdling around, chopping up bamboo, drying meat, or even weaving. Only the very old wear traditional dress but the rest wear a mixture of clothing. The girls and women tend to wear the Lao wrap skirt, richly embroidered on black fabric, and a “well-loved” t-shirt. Today being so cold, most everyone is wearing toboggans or hats of some kind and jackets that look like what most people in western countries would cast off for Goodwill. Maybe they are but they are getting another life and keeping these people warm today.

View through the valley

So while we saw some villages, we saw a more honest view. The mixture of tradition and western elements comes out of necessity and it is what it is. We have decided not to take a tour just for an hour of hiking to see a few birds and wild pigs and then go to the villages where the people don full traditional attire and peddle their “handmade” (let’s be honest, much of that stuff is brought in from China and only some of it is actually made by hand) wares at exorbitant prices to tourists. We had so much fun just driving around today, for being able to transport ourselves for the first time since we rented a car in Greece, and for being able to see so much more than the tour can provide. We highly recommend renting a motorbike and seeing some of Laos by yourself. The roads are really terrible and can be quite dangerous in places but there is little to no traffic and you can take your time as need be. You will have a great time and get a glimpse of what village life in Laos is really like.

We made it out alive! Now we’re in the most fabulous place we could possibly be after such a long tiring last several months. A true vacation spot: Thailand! It is so beautiful, so organized, so clean, the people are so happy and friendly, and everything is so bright and colorful. Even our plane here was nicely decorated with saffron, fuschia, and deep purple seats with smiling Thai ladies in traditional dresses. Fantastic!

The view down Koh San road

Although we have officially survived India, it sent us with a parting gift of the typical Indian variety. So even though we didn’t get to go out and see much of anything, we are both extremely happy to be here.

To do a bit of last minute souvenir shopping we headed off to Pondy Bazzar and found a few neat things. The market is not a touristy place since it caters more to locals than foreigners. You can find street stalls lining the road in front of stores selling endless kinds of sari fabric, household wares, a supermarket or two, and so on.

Fortune teller bird in the market

The market stalls sell things like flowers, shoes, clothing, toys, and handbags. Quite a wide range of goods but if you are looking for a more typical tourist market, Chennai is kind of a tough bet since there is little to attract tourists here to begin with.

Lunch on a leaf

The next day was spent in a less traditional kind of cultural experience: going to the movies! It’s an odd thing to realize that cultures behave differently when they watch movies in cinemas. First of all, here they have intermissions. No kidding. It’s either because the local population can not sit through a 2 hour movie without getting up for a bathroom and popcorn break, or it’s a clever marketing tatic to make people go for a snack run. Why they can’t just get whatever they want before the movie and then avoid the anti-climactic intermission that inevitably stops during a very crucial action packed moment is really just beyond us.

In addition, there is massive amounts of hooting and whistling and general chatter that goes on during the entire movie and even more titters and whistling (or meowing, like one weirdo was doing) during any kissing or overly affectionate scenes. Come on people, grow up! It’s a fact that Indian culture is very “conservative” but it’s making them all act like overly-hormonal 12 year olds and preoccupying their minds so they can not even function without something seeming sexually charged and therefore whistle- or hoot-worthy. Anyway, we got to see a couple of really great movies, Avatar and the new Twilight movie, in English no less!

After a heart pumping run on the beach this morning, we decided to toss things up with a breakfast of oatmeal with sliced bananas and fresh orange juice. Mmm! There is a huge fruit stand in town that sells everything from green beans and eggplants to fingerling bananas and melons. Everything just seems to taste better here in Goa!

Fishing boats in the morning

Maybe it is our extreme happiness and our reward for having gone through 2 months in northern India where the people are difficult (to put it nicely), the prices are outrageous, the food mediocre to inedible, and the streets are covered in at least 3 different kinds of poop.

It's still India... sort of

Yes, Goa is still India for sure but it is definitely different than the rest of the crazy country. The dreaded beach oglers are fairly limited and there are not as many domestic India tourists here to throw trash all over the beach or walk around pointing at you. People don’t even stare that much! Well, at some of the girls who think it’s okay to walk around town in a bikini top and a fluttery skirt that barely covers her bum. But the foreigner guys stare at her too. Anyway, we are loving every second here. The people are so much more laid back, so friendly and not at all in-your-face. Even the shop keepers are pretty chill.

Shops in Arambol

We had to run an errand this morning before we could get out in the sandy sun. We caught the local bus to a town called Shiolim which currently has the only ATM in the area. The bus was cheap, Rs. 10 each way if I remember correctly. (That’s about US$0.25). In total it took about an hour to get there, get some money and get back to Arambol. We were out enjoying the beach before we knew it and our tans can back us up. The sun is pretty harsh here and within just a few days of our skin actually seeing the sun (we have had to cover up for India to try to be as culturally sensitive to their conservative standards as possible). It’s nice to get some sun and there is no way to avoid taking a dip in the water that is always the perfect temperature.

Feeling itchy feet, we took a walk again but this time in the opposite direction from yesterday. Wow, what a fabulous discovery (well, it was a discovery for us anyway!)! The little beach that is hiding out in a rocky cove is, depending on which direction you are facing, incredibly lush and green or rocky and shimmering water. About 200 meters up from the shoreline is a large freshwater pool with beautiful greenery surrounding it to make an exotic, tropical looking escape. The beach itself is marvelous with the large black rocks jutting out from beneath the surface. The waves seemed a bit rough and although we didn’t swim here, it looked like it might drop off quickly since the beach slopes downward slightly and the waves being crashing in a bit hard.

Fresh water pool

There are several sun beds lining the small shoreline and there seems to be a wealth of fully clothed Indian men hanging about. Some were staring, some were touting sun beds or drugs, and others were doing who knows what. It’s hard to tell with that deliberate, rapid, and sometimes flailing walk so common among young Indian men. Anyway, it is an astoundingly gorgeous beach worth a visit while you are at Arambol.

Arambol Sunset

We hung out until sunset and watched the black crabs camoflauged against the black rocks scitter between the crevices. Once we made our way back to our favorite restaurant by our guest house, we enjoyed a fabulous Indian dinner: potato-paneer dosas with the obligatory ice cold Kingfisher beer. In case you’re wondering, a dosa is a big thin pancake about a foot long that is filled with goodness. Ours were potato and cheese (paneer is Indian cheese) but you can get just about anything in a dosa—chicken, masaala (spicy Indian sauce kinda like curry but not as thick), plain, etc. And the best part is that dinner cost under $2/pp including the beer which is always expensive (well, it’s just over a dollar itself but still that seems expensive here).

South Indian Dosa

Travel Tip:

To get to this beach (we’re not sure of the name), walk toward the rocky part of Arambol near all the beach restaurants. The closer you get to the big rocks you will see a set of stairs going up into a little “street” of souvenir shops and more restaurants. Walk left for 10-15 minutes through the many shops along the rocky path and you will run straight into the beach. If you want to sleep there, you can find accommodation in several basic beach huts as well as a restaurant right there or the many restaurants you will pass on the way.

Ladies, there really are a lot of those infamous Indian oglers here that we all dread. Be prepared for some to approach you for offers of drugs, shoulder massages, or even to rub in your sunscreen (that’s no joke). Another thing that we saw happen a lot and had happen to Lin was unaware photo-taking. We were standing by a big rock watching the crabs run around and some Indian man wearing only a T-shirt and flipflops (guessing there was a Speedo under there somewhere?) sneaks behind Lin and snaps a photo of her backside. She wasn’t even wearing a bathing suit but a loose knee length dress! Saben flipped out on the guy and yelled at him which caused the creep to scurry off and over the hill toward Arambol. Anyway, this sort of behavior happens at Arambol too but less frequently because there are fewer Indians on Arambol.

Chaotic India

One thing that can be very difficult to get used to is the constant questions by random strangers. You might be walking down a little street, sitting in the train station, eating lunch in a restaurant, in the bathroom, lying on the beach, or maybe standing in a non-line at the bank to get change. Then out of nowhere someone is three inches from your face launching into a nonstop Q and A of your life with such speed that the A part doesn’t finish before the next Q. At first this seems novel and quaint but after the twelfth person has asked you the same questions in the last five minutes while you are trying to eat your lunch, it gets a little irritating.

So what questions should you expect? Any and all. Most are harmless, some are laying the foundation to sell you something, some are gathering information that may be used against you later, and a few are solely used as a way to make wild and unfounded accusations about you, your country, and your way of life. Below is a list of examples, all of which we actually have been asked.

Mostly Harmless:
Q: What is your name?
Q: Which country? (to which they reply “very nice country” or “I have a brother there” unless you say Pakistan, which is fun)
Q: What is your job?
Q: How long in India?
Q: Do you like India?
Q: How much money do you make?

Laying the foundation:
Q: Which country? (to which they reply “very rich country”)
Q: Just arrive? (touting lodging, taxi or rickshaw)
Q: Where are you going? (rickshaw, shop, or lodging)
Q: I am studying English, can I practice with you? (Sometimes harmless but more often looking for a “donation” for their studies; middle class begging)
Q: How much money do you make? (or in other words “how much can I milk you for”)

Used against you:
Q: Where are you staying? (Can be harmless but better safe than sorry)
Q: Where are you going? (same as above)
Q: How long have you been in India (mostly harmless but often used to gauge how “green” you are, default answer 2-3 months)
Q: Is this your first time to India? (Same as above, answer is always no)
Q: What do you think of Indian people? (mostly harmless but used often to pick a verbal fight)

Unfounded and wild accusations (a small example):
Q: What country? A: America. Q: Why do you hate Muslims? A: Dumbfounded look… we don’t hate Muslims. Tens of thousands of Muslims live in America because they have religious freedoms that don’t exist in many other places. Q: Yes, but they are oppressed and not real Muslims. A: dumbfounded look….

Q: What country? A: America. Q: How many houses do you own? A: Ummm…. none. Q: Everyone in America has two houses. A: Ummm…. no

Q: What country? A: America. Q: Leans over to his friend and says, “They don’t have cars in America, they just fly everywhere.” A: Ummm… that’s not really true. We have a big country but most people enjoy driving. Most people own a car. Q: No… everyone flies in airplanes.

Q: Are you married? A: Yes (we always say yes, but it doesn’t always work) Q: You need to put up the hood on the rickshaw. A: Why? (Saben is about 10 inches too tall for the pedal rickshaw hood thing). Q: Because all foreigners are sex crazy and locals don’t want to see that. A: WHAT?! Q: All foreigners are sex crazy, all foreigners do is have sex so the police make you put up the hood if you are a foreigner. A: I think I’m getting out here. (We asked a police officer—turns out they have had a rash of bag snatching from pedal rickshaws and were trying to prevent an easy grab).

Most of these questions are harmless or at the most someone just trying to edge in to sell you something but always keep a weary eye and don’t be afraid to lie. We rarely give anyone the correct information because it’s of no use to them and has the possibility of harming us (Q: “What country?” A: “Sudan” Q: “very nice country” is one of our favorites). The benefit of a “white lie” is that you can safe guard your self, have a little fun but at the same time engage with the local population. Some of our favorite conversations from this trip have come from question bombardments. So find a balance between keeping yourself safe and at the same time enjoying the culture and people of India.