Chuc Mung Nam Moi!
When we realized we’d be in Vietnam smack dab during the middle of Tet, the Vietnamese New Year, I got a little concerned. Posters on forums warned the cities would be empty, hotels and restaurants would be closed, and everyone would be celebrating at home with their families. But just like our travels during Changwon in South Korea and Diwali in India, these dire predictions are way overblown. We had no trouble getting around during Tet. In fact, there were more buses available. While some restaurants were closed for the days before and after Tet, plenty of others were available. Hotels were open in the Mekong Delta and Saigon. About the only drawback was that the Floating Markets were closed on Tet itself, which unfortunately was the only day we had available to take a tour of the Delta. This meant no one was on the river and since most of the tour was on the big open industrial river instead of the quaint backwaters, our tour was so boring I actually fell asleep.
Any drawbacks were overshadowed by the feeling that we were experiencing a little taste of Vietnamese culture we wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise. Anticipation and excitement hung heavy in the air. From our first day in the country, we could tell a major celebration was just around the corner. Across all of the Delta towns, people zoomed by on scooters with armfuls of flowers or lucky kumquat trees towering in their baskets. Every home and business (and sometimes even parked cars) had an elaborate feast for the spirits set out front. In Vietnam, the spirits must be a little feisty, because we saw just as many cans of beer and packs of cigarettes as we did piles of fruit and traditional dishes. The smell of incense permeated the air, and red lanterns and flowers adorned shops and homes. In honor of Tet, we learned the phrase Chuc Mung Nam Moi! and used it often. We were greeted with either confused looks, making us think we were probably saying it wrong as we often do when we attempt phrases in different languages, or smiles followed by a hearty Chuc Mung Nam Moi in return. We celebrated Tet Eve in Can Tho by watching fireworks amongst a sea of teenagers and scooters. I really think we were two of twenty people over thirty and two of five white people. The fireworks were an elaborate display. Most were met with oohs and aahs or snickers and fake enthusiasm (the latter from a group of smartass teenagers nearby). The sheer number of people gave us our first taste of the raw energy that permeates the country.
When we got to Saigon, we found the main streets ablaze with lights and flowers in full celebration. We stumbled upon a parade in honor of Tet and posed by enormous light creations like the Vietnamese. In the streets surrounding our hotel, we watched people burn fake money in the street in the hopes of getting rich in the new year. I do suspect that Saigon was a bit toned down in the days after Tet. Each day we noticed increasing traffic and people infiltrate the city, and shops that were closed began to open. But we were able to see and do everything we wanted to see and do, and even a toned down Saigon is still an exciting Saigon.
So if your travel plans put you in a country during a major holiday, definitely embrace the opportunity!
Newly purchased flowers in Ha Tien
Scooter madness waiting for the fireworks on Tet Eve in Can Tho
It was on Tet Eve that I first figured out why squat toilets don't bother the Vietnamese.
Uncle Ho looking over the crowd during the fireworks in Can Tho
Lucky Kumquat tree in Saigon
Offerings in Ha Tien
Lights in the streets of Saigon
Yellow flowered tree in Saigon's post office
Burning money on the streets of Saigon
Vietnam: Introduction.
Vietnam. Yet another name of a destination that is synonymous with a thing instead of the place. Out of all of the Southeast Asian countries we visited, Vietnam was the most unique. Going from Thailand to Laos to Cambodia revealed subtle differences, but other than the glaring disparity of socioeconomics the similarities stood out the most. In Vietnam, we noticed the differences right away.
Vietnam is a country that moves FAST. Upon arrival, we, and our backpacks, were whisked from the Cambodia/Vietnam border into the town of Ha Tien on the back of motorbikes (even though we thought we had booked a bus for the whole way and had decided we weren’t going to ride on motorbike taxis, which turned out to be a ludicrous thought if you want to get anywhere in Vietnam). And that’s pretty much how the next month went. You find yourself swept along with Vietnam’s swift current, distracted by the constant happenings that Vietnam presents on a daily basis, until suddenly you’d been there a month and Vietnam’s constant background hum had built itself up into a roaring crescendo without you noticing.
Some people find Vietnam difficult to travel through, saying that it’s noisy, that it’s hectic, that the people are conniving and trying to scam you. If Vietnam was difficult while we were traveling, we didn’t notice – we were too distracted by Vietnam’s zany atmosphere – but at the end of the month when we’d landed in our last destination, Hanoi, we realized that we were exhausted. Exhausted from listening to Vietnam’s constant soundtrack of beeps, revs, chatter, and invitations to buy something; exhausted from saying no over and over and over; exhausted from the constant obstacle course of trying to walk down the street past the street vendors and scooters crowding out the sidewalks and constant traffic crowding out the streets.
Despite being a socialist country, everything resembles capitalism to the max, meaning everyone’s trying to make a dong or two in any way they know how, which does tend to keep you on your toes a bit. But no one ever tried to scam us. The only signs of communism are the giant towering statutes of Uncle Ho in every town, the cicles depicted on flags on many streets, the censoring of information by the government (the nerve of the commies to block Facebook!), and the extreme one-sided views presented in government owned museums. Otherwise, everyone’s try to sell everyone else something, whether it’s food, souvenirs, tours, or transport. Vietnam’s at once old-fashioned and modern, with street vendors selling the same pho they’ve sold for years on the corner outside a trendy coffee shop selling iced coffees (with condensed milk, of course). Women actually wear the iconic conical hats while carrying double baskets of flowers or fruit over their shoulders in the cities or while tending to rice in the fields, but at the same time, Vietnam is filled to the brim with young people donning trendy Asian hair cuts, tightly cut stonewash jeans, and name brand attire, with the women in heels.
Coming from Cambodia, Vietnam’s development was a bit of a shock. Wi-fi came standard in most budget hotel rooms, along with hot water, a/c, (relatively) comfortable beds, mini-fridges, and satellite television. We stopped asking if the shower had hot water after two separate hotel clerks gave us looks that translated as yes, duh. I’ve heard it’s a remnant of the war, but Vietnam’s thoroughfares between cities are actual highways. In some ways, Vietnam reminded us of Japan. I expected both countries to be very rural, but there’s just not enough room in either. So Vietnam’s rice paddies butt up against industrial factories and cities, with every inch of space used for something. While Japan’s quiet order tones down the effect of the crowds, Vietnam’s chaos amplifies the effect of having people everywhere, all moving in different directions. In that respect, Vietnam reminded us of India. There’s life in every direction to watch at all times. Everyone’s love of the horn thrust us right back into memories (nightmares?) of the Indian streets.
If you added up the word I used most frequently in Vietnam, the winner would be no by a landslide. No I don’t want to take a tour, no I don’t want to buy your fruit, no I don’t want to take your picture (because I know you’ll ask for money), no I don’t want something tailored, no I don’t want to stay at your hotel, no I don’t want to buy a silk scarf, no I don’t want a cyclo ride, no, no, no, no. Unfortunately, someone taught the Vietnamese how to say, Hello, you buy something? in English instead of, oh I don’t know, Hello, how are you? Would you like to come look around my shop? or even Would you like to buy something, please?
Compared to the sunny disposition of most Thais or even the Cambodians, who sure don’t shy away from asking you if you want to buy something, the Vietnamese sales presentations could use a tune-up. Especially in touristy cities like Hoi An, all you hear when walking down the street is vendor after vendor shouting at you, You buy something? Hello, you buy something? Ma’am, buy something! No one’s original. We alternated between a polite no thank you and pretending we were deaf, but sometimes the Vietnamese can get feisty if you don’t want to buy their product or service. In Saigon, we sat at sidewalk tables drinking a beer, which, in retrospect, I’d highly advise against, because there’s a constant stream of street hawkers propositioning you to buy their wares. (Although come to think of it, going inside offers you no respite; Vietnamese shop owners aren’t bothered by other vendors coming in to pester you there, either). I watched a sassy little girl, no more than ten, get into an argument with her little brother for selling in her territory. Shortly thereafter, I saw her giving the hard sell to three Westerners sitting next to us. Unlike the Cambodian children, who give you a sob story as a sales tactic, this little girl punched one of the guys in the arm after he told her no, he didn’t want to buy her gum. We never got punched by minors, but we walked into a Saigon market and walked back out after being physically grabbed and pulled if we didn’t stop and look at every market stall.
In addition to being relentless in their approach, the Vietnamese often are inquisitive, which does have the unfortunate side effect of making you suspicious of those who are being innocently friendly. As in India, everyone wants to know where you’re from and how long you’ve been here (to judge how much money you have and how much of a sucker you are). But in Vietnam, many people want to know everything else too so they can figure out what they can sell you. Every time we checked out from a hotel, they want to know where we were going next. Inquiring about the public bus schedule? Well, the hotel has a van you should use. In Hue, near the end of our time in Vietnam, I asked the clerk at the front desk of our hotel where I could find a corner market. She gave me directions to one down the street and then quizzed me on what I planned to buy. Whether she was trying to see if the hotel could sell me what I wanted or whether she was just being nosy, I don’t know, but I wanted to scream, it’s none of your business!
But as I mentioned at the beginning, our frustrations with Vietnam were gradual. Perhaps it was because nothing compares to India, perhaps it was because we were wise old travelers on month 11, perhaps it was because we traveled south to north (conventional wisdom saying that the north is more intense). Whatever it was, during our month in the country, we were busy turning Vietnam from an event into a place. We were eating the pho and bun and spring rolls like it was our job; stalking red dragonfruit in every market; celebrating Tet with Vietnamese teens; looking at the Vietnam War from another perspective; zipping through the countryside on the back of motorcycles; lounging at the beach; getting a custom wardrobe made; meeting sweet, helpful Vietnamese people; worrying about our boat sinking; and oogling everything happening all around us. Vietnam is fun, alive, and interesting; the best way is to dive in and be surrounded.
A woman selling bananas weaves through Hanoi's traffic.
Yes, those are all scooters! Traffic in Saigon during Tet festivities.
Women selling seafood to tourists on the beach in Nha Trang.
Lanterns for sale in Hoi An.
The waterways of the Mekong Delta.
Decor for Tet in Saigon.
Rice fields in the Central Highlands.
Friday night at a frozen yogurt shop in Saigon.
Delicious, delicious pho ga.
Our two favorite fruits in Vietnam - the sexy hot pink dragonfruits and the ruby red watermelons.
Shock and Awe in New Zealand
Warning: this post may be written slightly under the influence, so read at your own risk. When passing by the wine rack in the grocery store (I know – wine in a grocery store! Don’t have a heart attack Pennsylvanians!) I spied sauvignon blanc – New Zealand’s specialty and my favorite wine – and it somehow ended up in our cart. Then it somehow ended up empty. I know, I was shocked too. (Don’t worry, I had a helper). What else are you supposed to do when you’re sitting in your campervan at a city holiday park when its pouring outside?
Which brings us to shock number two. It’s cold here. And rainy. Think Ireland, but colder. Yeah, I know. There’s Cadbury eggs everywhere, but the leaves are changing on the trees. I’m very confused.
When we arrived, this was the first thing we saw when we got off the plane was sleeping bag after sleeping bag filled with cheapskates frugal people. But since we’re old and cranky and require a good night’s sleep, we sprung for a hotel. First we were in awe of the king sized soft bed, the number of pillows (two! Per person!!!), the bathtub, and the television speaker in the bathroom (for real). Then we were in shock over the price. Since we didn’t get in until after midnight and planned to pick our campervan up at 8:30 the next morning, we opted to stay near the airport at a hotel with a 24-hour shuttle. Which practically cost the equivalent the price of three days in Asia. Since we took a budget airline (Air Asia), we barely ate the whole day. And we couldn’t afford to eat at the hotel, that’s for sure. My request for a budget exception to eat a $3.00 cookie from the mini-bar was denied, and my hopes for breakfast before we picked up the campervan were quickly dashed when we realized a continental breakfast for two would cost $30 USD. Can you say price shock?
When we finally ate for the first time, it was lunchtime. We found a pub with a semi-affordable lunch special of $9 USD and wandered in. We paused by the door, wondering if we should wait to be seated, then plopped ourselves down at an empty table when we didn’t see a hostess. When the waitress approached us, she looked very confused. Can I, help you? Oh, we weren’t sure if we should seat ourselves or wait… When she responded, oh that’s okay, in a high pitched voice we had our answer. Culture shock strikes again: we never would have just sat down at home, but there’s no such thing as hostesses in Asia. While things certainly operate on Asia time, eating isn’t one of them. You saunter in, sit at any table you want. If there’s a menu, it’s ten pages thick and generic and full of things the restaurant doesn’t even have. There’s no chance to read it; the waiter is hovering over you as soon as you sit down. This “express lunch” meal, by comparison, was downright leisurely, leaving me super antsy when the waitress cleaned every table instead of ringing our card at the “till,” until I realized that we’re supposed to take it to the till ourselves. Oops.
We spent our first night in our campervan last night, and even though it’s freezing outside, our heater and blanket keep us toasty. We rather like our new little home, and we’re looking forward to hitting the open road after we stock up on some warmer gear in Christchurch. Our attempts at mastering the New Zealand accent are in full swing already, but it’s a hard one. I have to keep calibrating by saying Bret and Jermaine, which seems to help. Sean seems to be devoting his time working in as many New Zealand-esque phrase he learned from the guidebook (an utter waste of money because the tourism industry gives away buckets of information for free) as he can in every sentence. He gets a particularly big kick of using the phrase brassed off, which, in turn, really brasses me off!
Farewell Asia, you mixed bag you.
Right now, we’re en route to New Zealand, riding high on our decision to extend the trip past its original year expiration date. We arrived in Asia on September 6; almost seven months ago. We’ve been in Southeast Asia alone for four months. To say we’re ready to move on is an understatement; rice, especially the ubiquitous fried variety, won’t be on our plates anytime soon. We’ll miss neither the wood-like mattresses nor the constant on and off again of shoes, and we really won’t miss the pay squat toilets that someone should have paid us to use or the soaking wet bathrooms with showers on top of the toilet and strange sewer gases seeping through the exposed pipes. It’s someone else’s turn to get eaten alive by the mosquitoes, to try (unsuccessfully) to drown out the screechingly loud music on buses stuffed to the gills, to shake their head at drunk, obnoxious backpackers who think they own the world. Please don’t kill my excitement by mentioning that New Zealand has sandflies, shared camp bathrooms, thin campervan mattresses, or anything else that’s less than perfect, because nahnahnahnah, I can’t hear you.
Despite my current good riddance attitude, Asia’s been good to us and I know it. It provided us with sweet, sweet Cambodian bananas, Malaysian mangoes, Thai pineapples, and Vietnamese dragonfruit and watermelons; tasty, tasty street food; cultures totally foreign; scores of friendly, kind people; almost constant sunshine in what otherwise would be a cold, snowy winter; turquoise waters and white sand beaches; exploration of the underwater world; a peek into an anything-goes lifestyle; and months of cheap, cheap affordable travel. And the habit of pronouncing words twice. Most of all, it has provided us daily fascination and entertainment. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, Asia tops itself, and that alone is reason to travel here.
So ends another chapter of the trip. I’ll catch you guys up on our Vietnamese travels (the Southeast Asian country the least likely to be voted same same, but different) and our five weeks in Thailand and Malaysia (which really could be summed up right now – we mostly sat our arses on the beach. The End.) I’m thinking about interspersing posts about the last two months with near real-time posts in New Zealand, but I hear internet access leaves a lot to be desired in New Zealand, so no promises other than it will all get done eventually. (See how this Type A has learned to relax?)
Good-bye, Asia, it’s been fun, but we’re dreaming of unpacking our bags for one whole glorious month, hitting the open road with our campervan, making homemade meals with goods from the farmer’s markets, eating wild boar pie (well, at least Sean is), filling a chilly box with sauvigon blanc and microbrews, and soaking in fabulous view after fabulous view. New Zealand, here we come.