anythings

Next Stop is Vietnam

My heart rate increases as the plane lands in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam’s largest city, formerly called Saigon. And I can’t help but wonder how the U.S. soldiers’ hearts must have pounded years ago when the United States was at war with the North Vietnamese. But those years are long past. My wife Mare and I have no tour group waiting for us and only trek with trustworthy guidebooks. I’ve learned at least one thing from world travel — ignorance breeds fear. Reading travel books and magazines not only prepares us for what to expect, but eases unwarranted fears.
Over two million scooter riders fill the crowded streets, nearly colliding with one another, but road rage is rare. To show displeasure in public is to “lose face” in this culture. Smiles replace anger and patience conquers tantrums. I see hardly anyone over the age of 40, and everyone is busy working, eating, and or selling wares. It’s lunchtime at the convivial Ben Thanh Market, and the scent of fish head soup fogs with the humidity. Catfish wiggle for their lives in an inch of water on the lids of steel drums, while countless eels slither below them in vats of muddy water. Shrimp swim in buckets, while ivory squids flare on tin sheets covering the tops of jars of entangled snakes. We feast on shrimp, ground into paste and wrapped around sugar cane, with a side of asparagus soup. Later, we savor a tasty seafood pot full of squid and crab.After maneuvering our way through the sea of scooters to a local Travel Agency, we agree upon a sightseeing strategy. We begin with a two-day tour of the Mekong Delta, the region in Southeast Vietnam where the Mekong River empties into the sea through a network of tributaries. We decide to include an overnight stay in Can Tho, the largest and most developed city in the Mekong Delta. Then we will fly north to Hanoi, spend the night before arranging a tour to the mountain town of Sapa, followed by a two-day boat trip of Halong Bay. Any journey to Vietnam wouldn’t be complete without some relaxing time on the beach. So we choose to spend our last few days at Nha Trang on the South China Sea. For now, we pile into a van with travelers from Australia, New Zealand, France and Korea. “We’ll reach the Mekong Delta in about three hours,” Mr. No, the guide says.We drive due south and after passing many rice fields, we eventually board a small motorboat as Mr. No describes the way of life in the Mekong Delta. While visiting the crowded, floating market of the Delta town Cai Be, I sink my teeth into freshly cut pineapple still attached to the stem like an ice cream cone. Surrounded by hundreds of boats, many serving as homes gently colliding with each other, our boat breaks free and explores the jungle-lined canals. Floating hyacinths and lotus flowers drift in the low tide as we pass under single-log monkey bridges. Eventually spending the night in Can Tho, I talk with a group of Australian Bikers, “The Vets of Foreign Conflicts.” “I’ve always liked this place,” a tattooed biker says, “But it’s a lot better to see the friendly side of everybody.” After lunch the next day, Mr. No drives us back north to Ho Chi Minh City, where we board a plane for the two-hour flight to Vietnam’s capital city of Hanoi. Once there, we book tours to both Sapa and the Halong Bay. (Four days of tours, including transportation, lodging and most meals, cost about 3,200,000 dong or US$ 200) That evening, we board the train and sleep soundly on the 10-hour, overnight ride to the misty, northwest mountain town of Sapa. Arriving at the train station in Lao Cai, we switch the train for a crowded van. The vehicle travels up muddy roads twisting around the mountains on the way to Sapa (elevation: 5,400 feet or 1,650 meters). About 36,000 people live in Sapa, which is also the coldest place in the country. Tien, a friendly, young guide greets us at the bus stop and leads us to our modest room. Within minutes, we’re hiking in the soggy jungle, occasionally separated by foggy hills layered with infinite rice paddies. We meet the H’mong minority people during a village funeral. The purple dye in their garments permeates their skin.“The entire village drinks homemade rice wine for four days before the burial,” Tien says. “Then they carry the casket to the top of a mountain, drop it into a pre-dug hole, and run like crazy back to the village in fear of the body chasing them. Hopefully, the body is still in the hole the next day when they fill it.” That evening, Mare and I dine on venison and wild boar in Sapa and sleep the following night on the 10-hour train ride back to Hanoi. I sip some of the best coffee in the world next to Hoan Kiem Lake, located in the center of this clean town of many lakes, where thousands of locals exercise with everything from badminton to Tai Chi.