Vietnam Top 10 (okay, 11)

Well, below are my top 10 memories of the trip, in no particular order. The country is just brimming with energy. We had an extraordinary adventure there. Here are some highlights...

Street hair cut

For 50K dong (less than $3), I got a hair cut. The barbers set up a chair right on the street, hang their mirror on the fence, and do their thing. He even used a straight razor to clean up the edges (after making a small show of pulling out a fresh blade). Very clean, detailed cut. And I could have bargained him down to 30K dong, too!

Bia hoi crawl

Our first night in the country, we moseyed down south of the main district into this area dense with these shops run right in the owners' garages and the sidewalk in front. In some cases, they'd be serving food. In other cases, they'd have beer and food. The beer was anywhere from 5000 - 24000 dong -- so cheap. And just so easy to just chill, eat, B.S., then peace out to the next establishment.

Taking the plunge in Halong

Limestone karsts shooting straight out of the water. When the tide is high, you paddle over in a sampan, grab onto the rock, climb as high as you dare, then leap out into the water.

Razor clams straight from the sand

We beached the kayaks at one seemingly random beach in Halong. While we wandered around, our guide squatted in the sand and started extracting these cigar shaped clams. 10 minutes upon our return to the boat we had a dozen of these delicacies ($15 a pair at Momofuku).

Kim Jong-il sends his regards to Hanoi

This was not a suggestion from Lonely Planet. Instead, I was reading the Entertainment section in the English language newspaper when I stumbled upon an article describing the "invitation-only" dance and song performance the Democratic People's Republic of Korea was regaling the city of Hanoi with. "Blood in the Water Dance Troupe" was the name. Lots of folk dances and singing. The female dancers involved lots of smooth, precise movements synchronized across the usually 8-10 women on stage. The men, by contrast, were basically clowns by comparison. Naturally, we couldn't understand the lyrics, but every so often, a "Kim Jong-il" or "Pyongyang" was audible. Afterwards, we passed by a Cuban diplomat on the way out. I wish we'd thrown him a "que pasa". It's not often you get to rub shoulders with Communist technocrats.

In a related taste test of Communism, we visited Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum. Communists, it seems, have a taxidermy penchant for their beloved leaders. Every year, for several months, they send HCM's body back to Moscow where the experts take care that he maintains his healthy glow for his visitors, of whom Glenn, PLo, T, and I joined. It's an imposing building. And there are stern warnings that there is no talking, flash photography, or sniggering enforced by even more severe looking soldiers with bayonets affixed.

[Cobra] Heart of Darkness

Yup, this is fairly self-explanatory. We picked two lucky cobras, they did a bit of a show w/ the cobra (kinda cruel, so just use your imagination), then served a whole meal of dishes prepared from the cobra. They didn't waste a part: we ate the heart, skin, skeleton (used in a rice wine), and of course the meat. Pretty tasty stuff.

Partaking of the French colonial experience at the Metropole

So this started out as an innocuous little affair. After a day bustling around the Hang district (Old Quarter where everything under the sun is sold), we happened to pass by the Metropole, a dignified hotel from back in the colonial days when Hanoi was the seat of French authority. We got lured in by air conditioning, the Louis Vuitton, and the prospect of high tea and a place to cool the heels. After browsing the shops, we stepped into the hotel lobby where we asked one of the staff if there was a place we could have a drink. We were dutifully shown to a table where we ordered tea and pastries. And a champagne. And a Graham Greene (gin, dry vermouth and cassis). One drink led to another and before we knew it, we had reservations at the French restaurant and rooms for the next two nights which meant switching hotels from the Hilton (yes -- one exists, but they cryptically call it the Hilton Hanoi Opera, presumably to disassociate it from the Hanoi Hilton -- this fools Google, at least). So for two nights, if we drank enough tea, we could almost imagine we were expats partaking of the fine pleasures of French civilization, comfortably out of the sweaty air old Indochina.

Bespoke in Saigon

They said the tailors were good, so first day in Saigon we hit Cao Vinh on Pasteur Street. When they said they could finish everything by the end of our vacation, we went to town. Pablo got two suits and a bunch of shirts. Glenn had like eight shirts. Annie got three shirts. T had two pants. And I had two pants and four shirts made. What was most surprising was how exhausting it was. Shopping can be tiring, but every time we left there, we were always in need of caffeine. Since we were building from scratch, we had to make every little decision -- the fabric, the shape of the collar, how it would fit, the french cuffs or regular, collar stays permanent, color of the thread lining the button holes, lining of the jacket, ... So different than just shopping which is just an exercising in eliminating choices. This is a creative effort.

Fun moment of the experience: when we got back from Hanoi for the last fitting, Glenn's shirts fit tight around the belly. The women asked "You drink too much beer in Hanoi!? We make more room."

Scootering in the peloton of a Saigon rush hour

The primary mode of transportation in Vietnam is the motor scooter. Millions of these hit the streets every day. At the end of the trip, after crossing the street dozens of times and have these weave around me and watching them slip smoothly around all other obstacles, I decided I had to see what it was like. The best way to describe it: like being part of a school of fish. When the light turns green, engines rev all around you and the whole biomass surges forward. But at varying speeds and certainly with different destinations, so everyone must take great care to adjust for bikes moving slower or turning or weaving around a pedestrian. There must be dozens of unspoken rules of the road, but it seemed as long as you moved at a predictable speed and direction, those around you would accommodate.

There's so much life going on: a family with the father driving, the mother behind him, the daughter behind her, and the little son standing on the platform b/w the father and the handlebars. Or a fellow on the way to the market w/ a dozen ducks. The few hours T and I motored around the city, getting lost in the process, was one of the best glimpses into everyday life. I suppose you can tell a lot about a people by the way it commutes.

Being a pedestrian is anything but

Well, as mentioned above, crossing the street was an adventure. Basically, to oncoming scooters, a pedestrian is a fixed object. What was really quite pleasing to watch is how seamlessly they flowed around a pedestrian, like water around a rock. So fluid. Provided that the pedestrian moved a predictable rate. Making eye contact helps. God help you if you try to jog or run across the street. Bikes have no idea what to do w/ you then. Not once, however, did I see anyone hit or even get close.

Street food - pho bo, ca phe, baguettes in newspaper

This really deserves its own post. In any case, early on in the trip, we discovered street food. So good. So much variety. So cheap. Another great glimpse of daily life.