North Side Love

Hanoi

In the northern part of Vietnam on the Red River some 100km west of the coastline is the nation's capital Hanoi. It is a large sprawling city with many tall buildings but none that close to fitting my definition of a skyscraper. I arrived late at night. Public transportation by then had stopped and there was the one option of hiring a taxi. Hanoi's airport, like that of many a city in the world, is a large distance from the center of town so it took 45 minutes to arrive at my place of accommodation. The May De Ville Backpacker's Hostel, as it was aptly named, was in the Old Quarter where most of the French occupants had taken up residence in town during the days of Indochina, France's former colony in South East Asia.

Ho Chi Minh and Vietnamese Flag

When day came around the Old Quarter did not seem very old, nor was there much French influence. It was just one street after another characterized by narrow alleyways, ground level shops and restaurants, and far too many motorbikes cutting across intersections bereft of traffic lights. The more I saw of the area the less I liked of it. First of all were the touts. They offered me rides on the motorbikes or in their taxis, and others tried to sell me shoddy goods, fried bread or fruit. This was to expected in the touristy Old Quarter. However, I was rather put off by the aggressive tactics these would be salesmen used. They often walked alongside you shoving things in your face and quoting prices. Or in the case of fruit vendors, they gave you baskets to hold. It made for a good photo op, but afterwards they'd expect you to buy something. And not a single minute passed without someone asking "Where you from?" As if those magic words would lead to a conversation and potential sale.

Old Quarter at Night

New Year's Display

Fruit Vendor

Ubiquitous Motorbikes

Other complaints I had with Hanoi were the pollution and weather. The air was thick from the exhaust fumes of the motorbikes and not once did the sky clear, not even when the sun appeared as a yellow white blotch behind the depressing layer of smog and ugliness that loomed above the buildings. This also made it colder than it should have been. In the south of Vietnam the weather is warm year round but the north experiences real winters with low temperatures and high humidity. I quickly learned that moisture in the air makes cold weather feel colder, much the same way it heats up hot weather. So what I thought would be a warm tropical get away from Japan turned out to be anything but.

Church

Busy, busy

My next quip was the lack of heritage in Hanoi. Aside from a few temples the sights are not much to look at. The one and only place of interest, I felt, was Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum. It is a big block of solemn, grey concrete that looks markedly authoritative, and within its thick is a glass case that has the preserved body of Ho Chi Minh. Anyone who is willing to wait in line can enter free of charge and shuffle around the case while eyeing what looks to be a sleeping old man. When it was my turn, eight guards armed with AK-47s made sure that the body lie undisturbed. I almost wanted to laugh at the of seriousness of the situation. Ho Chi Minh, knowing very well what had become of Lenin's corpse, wanted to be cremated. Yet there he was in a red lit room on display so that people--dozens at a time--could stare at him in silence. As I exited the room I wondered wether it really was the man himself or just some wax dummy. The same thoughts had crossed my mind at Mao Zedong's Mausoleum some four months before in Beijing. Must the communists always preserve the bodies of their dead leaders? I find it rather morse, not tom mention far from revering. Why if it were me in Ho Chi Minh's place, I would look down from heaven and cringe in humiliation.

Mausoleum

Next it was on to Hanoi's single world heritage site, a citadel that served as the home of former rulers. As far as world heritage sites go it was rather pitiful and few tourists bothered to visit the place. Walking up to the front gate I recalled how an online site said Thang Long citadel was gifted world heritage status by UNESCO during Hanoi's 1000th anniversary two years ago. A pity really, considering that so many other places I've seen are much more worthy of such status (and the tourist money said designation brings with it).

Thang Long Citadel Tower

Buddhist Offerings

Hanoi Backstreet

Buddhist Temple

Ha Long Bay

Where the citadel failed to impress, Ha Long Bay blew my mind. The island strewn waters of the bay were an emerald green that teetered listlessly with tourist filled boats made to look like junks. Every which way the sheer rock mounds jutted upwards and slanted inward at abrupt angles as if they were giant icebergs drawn out of the the sea. The boat I was on carved slowly through the limestone giants and further we moved from the coast the more numerous they became.

Figurehead on boat

Junk Cruise

After a few hours we arrived at a large grouping of islands. A speed boat ferried us to the largest of them which had an enormous cave. Various chambers twisted in and around stalagmites, some as massive as a house, while fixed lights illuminated the uneven surfaces with bright green, yellow and blue. From above, gaps in the cave ceiling let in natural light, casting long shadows across the earthen ground. I had toured similar caves in Japan, but this one trumped them all. In fact the only cave I have seen that is more impressive is Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico which I went to as a boy.

Grouping of Islands

Opposite View

Limestone Cave

With one natural treasure out of the way the day was still far from over. We returned to our boat and made for another island. All around us were similar junks. Vendors on smaller boats intercepted tourists wherever they could. The decks of the junks were to high for them to conduct their business so they targeted the ferry boats and kayaks some of the more adventurous tourists had rented. I was content looking down at the crowded waters and snapping photos with my Nikon camera. It was late in the day and the sea had turned black save for a shimmering gold column that followed the sinking sun westward. In the distance, the many islands of Ha Long Bay became shadows, the furthest of them taking on the lightest shades of earthen green. Together they formed a breathtaking patchwork of depth and color.

Adventurous Kayaker

Maverick Pilot

Our final stop that day was a sandy island. On a warm summer day it would have been a paradise, but on the day We arrived it was cold and windy. Still, I forced myself to wade into the water. Freezing waves lashed at my dry flesh and dead corals bit at my bare feet. Undeterred I dipped down beneath my head and paddled around frantically in the hopes of warming my body. Dead ahead, in the center of the island, was a lush green hill topped by a wooden lookout tower. That seemed to be where most the tourists headed, though below on the shore a group of tourists wearing the same soccer jersey kicked around a ball. One of them misplaced a pass and the ball rolled to where it met the water. I turned away to take in the surrounding crown of islands. For a moment I forgot about the cold. I was too caught up in the beauty of it all and could have treaded the water of Ha Long Bay until my body gave out from fatigue.

Windy Beach at Sunset

Lonely Boat

The day did not end as so. I returned to the junk and because it was the night of December 25th we had a bit of a celebration. Actually, it was a typical seafood meal followed by champagne, sparklers and a slice of Christmas cake. I hardly touched the servings of nasty squid bits, crab cakes, sautéed clams and boiled prawns. The beers I had brought from the mainland provided all the nutritional sustenance I required. I inn fact had it in mind to drink myself in a stupor. Unfortunately, the other passengers were largely family types and turned in early for the night. That left only Dan, myself and a young Australian. Between the three of us there was not enough momentum to keep the party going.

Christmas Spirit

Local Beer

The next day we went to a lagoon. The tour was in a small boat operated by oar. Our rower was a young Vietnamese woman bundled up with a puffy coat, gloves and knit cap. She worked the oars with a level of steadiness that can only come with the experience of prolonged routine. And so it was that we entered the lagoon through a tunnel that bypassed a giant rock wall. On the interior side, grey, long limbed macaques hopped along the island cliffs. The rowers tossed bananas, drawing them close to the water. Our boat was a ways out which did not stop our rower from flinging the yellow bait. The first banana entered a crack in the wall and was quickly lost in the shadows. I snickered thinking she had a woman's aim, but to my surprise a monkey slipped into the crack like a big hairy spider, fished the banana from the water, and emerged triumphant with the fruit in mouth. It did not take long for the larger monkeys to hoard up all the food, after which they gorged their red faces in the bright morning sun while a few feet away the smaller ones looked on with envy.

Rower

Island Rock Wall

Watching all this I was very pleased with the visit. Twice designated a world heritage site by UNESCO (once as a cultural one and later as a natural one) Ha Long Bay was truly deserving of the status.

The American War

The Vietnam War stands out as a black spot in recent American history. It was a failed campaign that firmly divided two countries. In Vietnam it was the Communists of the north pitted against the American backed government in the south. Meanwhile, on the home front, marchers and protestors made it very clear how they felt about the war. The social unrest created a climate of disorder and upheaval, and the US government relented by withdrawing troops in what would be America's first definitive military loss. After the Communists took control Vietnam was at last an independent country. This period in Vietnamese history is known as the American War and it was the final chapter in the nation's long fight for freedom.

The Vietnamese were traditionally a very resilient people. For much of their early history the Chinese dominated them, but once they broke free they staved off foreign invasion for over a millennium. The Chinese and Mongols from the north failed to permanently occupy the country as did the Khmers and Siamese from the west. However, where these Asian powers were unable to succeed, the French did. The French subdued Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos in the 1880-1890's and made the three countries into the colony of Indochina. Their focus was on the Vietnam region where they created plantations of coffee, sugar and tobacco. Concerned only with profit, the colonists exploited the local people and cruelly persecuted those who resisted. This lead to a strong anti-French sentiment and open rebellion.

World War II came and went. Following the occupation of southeast Asia by Japan and the colonial concessions made by England and Holland, the French lost much of their strength in the region. Local rebels lead by Ho Chi Minh complicated matters by fighting them at every turn from the cover of the mountains and jungle. The rebels slowly gained ground and in 1954 Ho Chi Minh's forces cornered a host of France's military strength at Dien Bien Phu. The Vietnamese emerged victorious and were then able to negotiate the independence of northern Vietnam. As for the south it was to be lead by a democratically elected government, but due to American intervention this never came to pass. The Americans instead backed the dictator Ngo Dinh Diem. Diem's rule was one of fear and corruption, and it set the stage for his assassination in 1964. The south then fell into chaos as control shifted from one military leader to another. While all this was happening the communists gained growing support among the peasant class. Their message was clear, the wanted reunification.

A Dead Diem

After the failing of the Bay of Pigs invasion in Cuba US president Lyndon B. Johnson decided to take a hard line approach against communist expansion in southeast Asia. He used the Gulf of Tonkin Incident to deploy troops and thus began the Vietnam War. Within months the US began began bombing campaigns in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos and used ground forces to seek and destroy communist insurgents.

Escalation to War

From Ho Chi Minh's point of view South Vietnam was nothing more than a puppet state of a foreign imperial power. He was determined to liberate his people from foreign influence at any cost, but he never lived to see his dream realized. Ho Chi Minh died in 1969 long before the Fall of Saigon in 1975. At that point the US government abandoned their former supporters to a grim fate, and after 115 years of conflict Vietnam was once again united as one.

Evacuation of Saigon

In modern day Hanoi there is not much left to remind people of the war. A war museum is in the city, but Dan and I did not have the opportunity to visit. We opted instead to go to the Hanoi Hilton or the Hao Lo Prison as it is officially known. The prison was constructed by the French during the colonial era to jail and torture insurgents. But during the Vietnam war it was downed American pilots who they kept there. While touring the site (which is now a museum) one would think the POWs were treated wonderfully. Enlarged photographs on the wall show them playing basketball and pingpong. And when the war ended their release was celebrated with flowers and much fanfare. But the truth is the Vietnamese subjected them to miserable conditions and tortured the POWs until they denounced the US' military action in the region.

Old Prison Scene

Outside Corridor

One former prisoner of the Hanoi Hotel was Republican presidential nominee John McCain. In 1967 missile fire shot down his A-4E Skyhawk and ground forces subsequently caught and imprisoned the pilot. A famous picture was taken of him while a group of Vietnamese pulled him from the lake he landed in. It is on display in the museum along with McCain's flight suit and helmet. McCain spent part of his five and a half years as a POW at the Hanoi Hotel. During that time he endured great physical and psychological torture. However, the ugly experience did not stop him from returning to Hanoi and the Hao Lo Prison decades later as a diplomatic envoy. Pictures of that visit are also on display at the museum.

McCain Taken Prisoner

Sapa Valley

When visiting the North of Vietnam there are three places to see. The first is Hanoi. The second is Ha Long Bay, and the last is Sapa Valley. Located near the Chinese border, Sapa is a eight hour train ride from Hanoi. Dan and I first rode an overnight express to the frontier town of Lao Cai. A shuttle bus took us the final leg of the journey and after an hour of cutting along a twist mountain road we arrived in Sapa Town. The weather was freezing due to the altitude. I later learned that in winter it sometimes snows in the area which is very unusual for a place so close to the equator.

Sapa Town

Church

Market Stand

Local Folk

Our hotel was a two star run of the mill tourist lodge. Outside the lobby a group of girls greeted us. They were local Hmong villagers and spoke surprisingly good English. I was on immediate guard thinking they wanted to sell us something. However, they only made small talk and left saying they had school.

"That was friendly of them," I said to Dan.

After a meager breakfast a local guide took us on a circuit tour of some nearby villages. We ascended the contours of the mountainous terrain and came to a low lying valley filled with rice terraces. The last harvest of the year had long since finished. Mud and weeds filed and the paddies. Still, the shape and lines of raised earth made for a beautiful view. As I walked along I quickly realized how touristy the area was. Every 100m was a shop with the locals selling their wares. They had colorful caps, ponchos, wall scrolls, dolls and all manner of trinkets. Shop owners called out from their wooden shacks to any tourist that passed by. Meanwhile, children carrying baskets on their back attempted to sell their own goods. "You buy from me," they said. Ignoring them, our guide explained the the children should be at school studying.

"By buying from them you only make more this behavior," she added.

"I see," I said with a solemn nod of the head.

Beginning the Hike

Shops and the Trail

Hmong Family

Traditional Dance

Drum and Mill

It took several hours for us to finish the circuit. By the end of it I was so tired of touts that I wanted to hid in the hotel for the remainder of the day but as soon as we walked up to the entrance the girls from before were there armed with their local wares and a hell bent attitude to empty our wallets of whatever money we had.

"You buy this for your girlfriend," one said while showing me a leather bracelet.

I shook my head in refusal. "I'm sorry. I don't have a girlfriend."

"Make a new girlfriend. Then you can give to her."

That was damn persistent of her I thought. "I'll think about it," I said.

"No. Why think? Buy now."

"I don't know. I need time. Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe means no. Buy now."

Dan was getting the same treatment from another pair of the girls. The group corralled us against one another, jockeyed for position, and prodded their goods forward from every direction. "You buy from me. You buy from me."

"Let's get out of here," I said to Dan.

"Yeah."

We broke free of the circle, nearly bowling the girls over and made for the lobby. To our relief they did not enter after us. The girls merely waited at the entrance. I glanced over one last time and one of them beckoned for me to come back over. The way she flapped her hand face down, it was as if she thought me a dog.

Seemingly Innocent Local Girls

After lunch we had the afternoon free to explore Sapa Town. We surveyed the outside of the hotel from an overhead window and not a girl was in sight. That gave us the opportunity to rent motorbikes and head west along the national highway. 15km out was a waterfall. Two km further was a second one called the Golden Stream Love Waterfall. We saw both and headed back. The sun had already sunk behind the mountains and the warmth of day was sucked from our bodies by the cold winds that blasted our face and hands. I was gritting my teeth and cursing between bends in the road. I had all but forgotten about the girls as we pulled in to town, and yet there they were when we returned to the hotel.

"You buy from me," they said.

"No, not now," I said.

"Why not? We talk to you. We let you take picture. We friends. And you say no."

"Fine," said Dan, pointing to a purple embroidered shoulder pouch. "How much?"

"150,000 dong."

I quickly calculated that the price in American dollars was seven dollars.

Dan haggled her down to half the amount and forked over the cash. That sent the remaining girls into a frenzy and they attacked me with renewed aggression. 

"Your friend buy. Now your turn," one said. "No, you buy from me," interrupted another.

The problem was I did not want anything they had, at least not until one of them produced a large black wall scroll made of white, red and back cloth. I pictured it on my apartment wall, and figured it would make a nice addition to my humble yet growing collection of foreign art pieces.

After some haggling I got it for half the first price. But the girls were not done with us. There were four of them and they wanted us to buy from each and every one of them. In the end I had to spend another three dollars on a bandana and Dan settled for a bracelet. And just like that the girls were nice and cheery again.

Over the next two days we hiked deeper into Sapa Valley to some of the remoter villages in the region. Everywhere we went came the touts. Since I had already bought more goods than I needed I gave the new touts a cold and resound "no" at every pass. Other tourists relented, and I heard goods quoted at lower prices than those given in Sapa Town. Oh, well I thought. It was only a difference of a dollar or two.

Haggling the Tourists

In spite of all the hassle I was rather charmed by the Hmong people and their way of life. They lived among their rice terraces in wooden houses. The homes had thatched roofs or in most cases the sturdier protection of corrugated metal. Livestock appeared at random and wandered the fields freely. The biggest were the water buffaloes, and the most plentiful were the chickens--the skinny feral type with large colorful plumage. As we hiked along the landscape between villages shifted to wooded hillsides. The terrain was inaccessible save for narrow trails, and very once in a while I would see a water buffalo or goat grazing in the shadows among the tree trunks.

Rice Terraces

School and Corn

Hmong Woman

Ducks

Kitchen

At one point our guide took us to a large waterfall. The water in winter time was nothing more than a trickle so it was possible to cross at the top. I paused to look over the edge. Smooth rocks descended at a sharp angle with a few ridges jutting out along the way. I wondered if a person could survive the fall.

"Oh yeah, someone already fell," said my guide after I asked her what she thought. "Four months ago. A crazy man from France."

"My God. He died?"

"No. But he break a leg and arm and he get a crack in the head. I don't think he can walk no more."

"I suppose he was lucky."

"No. Not lucky. He fell. And his girlfriend so angry. She complain at him. But all France people complain. Complain about weather, about food and complain about hotel and staff." The guide's wrinkled nose curled up before she continued. "I don't like to have tour with many France people. They make trouble."

I had to laugh at how candid she was. The old woman could get away with just about any remark based on her age alone. "Ha, very funny eh?" she smiled through yellow teeth. "You Americans are same. Not complain so much but very crazy. Always loud and drinking. And don't listen."

That got yet another laugh. "I agree. But there must be good tourists."

"Sure. Australians and Canada people. Very nice. Most people are nice. Only France and Americans are crazy. And Israel people. I don't like them also. They never give good tip."

I
 had to reflect on her words a bit. As much as people are against it, there is some truth to stereotypes. Our guide knew what she was talking about. Tourists had been visiting Sapa for 25 years, and she had spent half that time conducting tours. I'll never forget her colorful insight.

Overlooking the Waterfall

Vientiane

Vientiane is the capital of Laos and a city that few people know. It is not large, developed, graced by enormous monuments nor burdened with towering buildings, multilane expressways or fancy mega malls. It is by most standards a quaint town that sits on the Mekong river across from Thailand. That said, it took me only ten minutes to decide that I liked Vientiane more than Hanoi.

When Dan and I arrived midday, the sun shone bright and the a warm wind blew in from the north. Our hostel was in the center of town a short taxi ride from the airport. The street was a little touristy but a far cry from what the Old Quarter in Hanoi had been. Not a single tout appeared, and the traffic never became congested. Simply put, the city was very laid back.

Because there was not much to do in Vientiane the highlight of our stay was a bicycle trip along the Mekong river. A third friend, Thomas, had joined us. We headed east and the road took us away from the city center to the rural outer lying area. The people lived largely in wooded huts many of which were on stilts. Palm trees with sagging fronds leaned over the road, and the unpaved strip wove at length near the river and sometimes cut a little inland. We went as far as we could go. The road ended at the gate of a private residence. So we found another larger one. That lead us to a local market. The thick air was rife with the stench of fish and produce. Stands were jammed tight. Some proprietors drank tea talked with their neighbors. Other watched TV or slept. Dan bought a ball point pen from a young woman who could not speak English. She quoted prices on her calculator. The pen cost him a quarter.

Cycling Along the River

Market

Schoolgirls

Rice Containers for Sale

On the way back to the city we rode by a school. The children were outside playing on a dirt lot that sat between their school buildings and an adjacent Buddhist temple. We entered through the temple gate and they immediately took notice of us. We waved and they smiled back. "Sabidee," I said. It is Laotian for hello and sadly the only local word I learned. Dan and I took a few pictures. After that we stopped only once more to have a beer while overlooking the Mekong river in the shade of palm trees. The owner of the shop where we bought the Beerlao insisted we return the empty bottles once finished. They might have been a little colder, but the taste was still good in the warm breeze. Down below the calm water moved lazily, and across the river in Thailand a few colorful houses dotted the river bank.

Vientiane did have have a few sights to visit. We could get around easily enough on foot, or for a dollar each take a tuk-tuk to our destination. The biggest draw was the Pha That Luang stupa. The gold edifice stood tall against the cloudless sky. I pulled out a bill from my pocket and saw that it was printed on Laotian money, a symbol of the country. We sat at length on a bench. To the right a few stalls lined the walkway between temples. Tourists strolled out onto the open plaza. Occasionally, a monk in a saffron and yellow robe appeared among them and went about his business seemingly oblivious to everyone else.

Pha That Luang Temple

Temple Grounds

Temple Walls

Riding in a Tuk-tuk

Night Market

In the past I had travelled to Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore. But or the first time I felt I was seeing the real Southeast Asia. As one traveler put it, Laos is what Thailand was 20 years ago before tourism changed everything. The next six days would make me a believer that I was indeed somewhere special.

Sunset on Mekong

Luang Prabang

Train lines are scarce in Laos. And until recently the rivers were the easiest way to travel around. Now there are the highways. However, they are winding snakelike things that lack width and pavement in many areas. The 300km road from Vientiane to the city of Luang Prabang thus took 10 hours to transverse. We opted for a night bus. I endured the passage of time in a state of constant half sleep and was awake enough to know that the bus stopped every two hours because a problem with the air-conditioning. Water dripped from the vents and the staff tried to seal them with plastic bags. They had at least given us a meal of fried rice and chicken in a styrofoam clam-like container to ease the passage of time. It would become my breakfast.

The city of Luang Prabang is one of the larger towns in Laos after the capital. But that's not saying much. It has a historic center on a peninsula like strip of land located at the confluence of two rivers. Most tourists who visit the city never venture beyond this area. Throughout the town Buddhist temples rise up from behind walls about every other block and many of the street houses retain a French style of architecture.

Luang Prabang from Above

We had only just arrived when we joined a tour on the Mekong river. Our narrow blue boat shot upstream for over an hour taking us to a pair of sacred caves. Inside, hundreds of little Buddha statues lined the cave walls. In the inner depths of the second cave we needed a flashlight to see the statues. After that we returned to Luang Prabang and rushed to take a minivan to Kuang Si, a series of waterfalls outside of town. The nature park doubled as a black bear preserve. I was surprised to find that these animals lived in Laos, though they are now endangered throughout the country. As for the waterfall it had several stages. The first stage was a wide aqua marine pool that had enough depth to support a rope swing. Tourists lined up for the chance to plunge into the cool flowing water. A few even jumped directly off the top of the waterfall. The trail paralleled the river upward and the pools of water became shallower with staircase like drops. And at the end was the largest waterfall that came crashing down from a height of 40m. The scenery was stunning but we couldn't stay there for long because our minivan driver gave us a time by which we had to return.

Mekong River

In Our Boat

Inside Cave

Black Bears

Kuang Si Waterfall

No Swimming Here

Back in town we enjoyed a fine meal with fried spring rolls, sticky rice, roasted chicken and grilled Mekong fish. For someone who does not like seafood I was blown away by the delectable taste of the tender white fish meat. I must say most the food I had in Laos was pleasing to the palate. Aside from grilled fish, the spicy papaya salad with ground peanuts stood out as a favorite.

Laotian Cuisine

For the second day we rented bicycles and cycled south along the national highway. The road ascended the mountains at a steady incline, and in time we came to another waterfall. Unlike Kuang Si, this waterfall was little more than trickle, but it was in an isolated area. A path paralleled the water and in many places roots had dislodged the stones underfoot. We truly were in the jungle and the hike made for a mini adventure. We kept saying that the setting reminded us of an Indiana Jones movie.

Traditional Dress

Jungle

Posing with Local Boys

Luang Prabang had to be the best part of the entire trip. Not that anything spectacular occurred. It had more to do with the feel of the town. The laid back atmosphere, beautiful scenery, warm weather and quaint look of the shops and buildings made Luang Prabang the perfect getaway from what I am normally accustomed to. I might have been content to spend a week there. And I think it would be best to go with a woman. I saw many couples and they appeared enthralled with the place, as if they were enjoying a second honeymoon. But who knows what will become of the town. An increasing number of tourists arrive every year and I imagine the influence they impart steals a little more of the local magic.

Coming Out of the Jungle

Buddhism

Laos is a predominantly Buddhist country and has been so for centuries. Even when the communist dictatorship of the Pathet Lao took control in the 1970's the religion was able to continue largely uninterrupted. Rather than put themselves at odds with the religiously devout people, the government sought to align the ideas of Buddhism with those of the regime, as if to justify its authority. This is different from other countries like Mongolia and Cambodia where the ruling factions at one time another worked to systematically eliminate Buddhist monks and temples.

Interestingly, in India where Buddhism came from, less than 10 percent of the people practice it. The sects of the religion vary based on what sutras are given importance and how they are interpreted.

In Laos the predominant form is Theravada Buddhism, the same as Thailand (which accounts for the strong resemblance between the temples found in both countries). Moreover, practicing monks wear saffron and yellow colored robes that make them easy to identify. As part of their religious education the majority of Buddhist males in Laos join a monastic group and spend a year or more living at a temple. During this period they abandon nearly all worldly possessions and depend on alms and donations to survive. Other practitioners of the faith readily give these to both improve their karma and express devoutness to a greater cause.

Buddha and Worshipers

Meditative View

Sleeping Buddha

Golden Stupa

Luang Prabang, as inundated as it is with temples, has many monks. They walk the streets every morning to collect their much needed alms. In recent years this has become a spectacle. Tourists run up to their faces and take snapshots, or hand them snacks and other unusual offerings. Due to the local economy's reliance on tourist money the monks are forced to endure the indignation without complaint or be replaced. As for Thomas, Dan and myself, we could not be bothered to wake up early to view said procession of monks. But we did encounter them elsewhere. All temples are open to the public and a tourist can walk right in to see the devout go about their daily business. At the temple next to our hostel we watched a group of youths cook sticky rice while another few dug up dirt to lay down some kind of cement foundation. One of the young monks said hello.

"How long you been a monk?" Dan asked him.

"Five months," he replied.

"And you live here in the temple?"

"Yes. Over there." The monk pointed to a wooden structure across the temple courtyard.

As far as I could tell he spoke good English which was not that common among the locals in Laos. "Where did you learn English?" I asked him.

"In Buddhist school. I like to study very much."

For whatever the reason, I next asked him if he liked being a monk. It was a stupid thing to say. He smiled shyly and I quickly changed the topic, telling him I was from America where monks are few and rare.

In Orange

Inside a Temple

Later, Dan, Thomas and I discussed the beauty of Buddhism. While some countries like South Korea, Singapore and Israel force their young men into military service, the Laotians opt for the peaceful, soul nourishing experience of monastic life. That's a good thing. Many men stay on for longer than a year and there are even those that never leave. Though the demanding path toward nirvana may not be for me I certainly respect those who take it.

Buddhist Temple

Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is a small town that sits halfway between Luang Prabang and Vientiane. A small river marks the western extreme of the town and beyond that are sheer rock mountains that create an awesome backdrop. Some years ago someone had it mind that this would be the perfect place for foreigners to go tubing because that is exactly what became of the town. And with the influx of tourists opened late night bars and drug dens that the local authorities turn a blind eye to, all for the sake of pulling in more tourist money. According to a few on-line guides I read, the police and property owners are all in cahoots, making Vang Vieng a tourist trap mired in corruption and decadence. I however, never got that impression.

Shortly after arriving by minivan, we took a tuk-tuk to where the tubing begins. It was a few kilometers upstream of the center of town, but because of the slow currents we were told it takes hours to travel back via the water. Moreover, there were bars and other attractions along the shore that slowed down tubers. Unfortunately for us, it was already too late to rent a tube. So we made due hanging out at one of the bars. A hundred or so young tourists were dancing around to top 40 hits that blasted forth from 2m speakers. Though I had never before been to those Spring Break parties in Cancun of Fort Lauderdale, I imagined this was what they were like. Not a single person was sober. Most everyone had obscenities scrawled in marker on their chests, arms, backs, or anywhere else their bathing suits failed to cover. There was one big table and a group of guys was using it to play beer pong. They seemed intent on pulling random women over to chug along.

I proceeded to buy a beer of my own. A second beer quickly followed and yet the scene remained overwhelming. I did not quite get into it until I climbed up a wooden tower and zip lined into the river. A cool plunge was all it took to attune me to the local vibe. So I drank more and danced, and could have done so for hours. The problem was I had not yet eaten that day. We found a western style eatery. I had chicken pizza, Thomas ate yellow curry, and Dan inhaled a cheese hamburger. Once we got our meal out of the way it was back to the bars.

Vang Vieng River

Somehow we woke up early the next day and rented motorbikes. A nasty hangover ate at my insides as the bike's tires ground through potholes and gravel. About 2km outside of town the scenery turned to pure rural goodness. Dry rice paddies broke out from between the trees, and where there were fields we saw huts. And behind it all was a lengthy ridge of mountains that swallowed up the horizon. I enjoyed the views and breathed in the pleasant morning air. In spite of the strong headwind I never once felt cold.

Laotian Children

Riding Our Motorbikes

Laos Mountains

Cockfighting

Exploring a Cave

A side road caught our attention. It had a small white sign on a post read "Amazing Cave" and had an arrow pointing to the left. We turned off and followed the gravel strip through small villages. Children waved at us, women washed clothing in a shallow stream, and geese poked their heads up. We found the amazing cave at the foot of a large limestone mountain wall. At the entrance a pair of local men were training their roosters to fight. They had wrapped up their back claw with a cloth to prevent the animals from injuring one another, and the birds pecked with bright orange beaks while their wings flapped violently.

For a dollar a piece we got a flashlight and could enter the cave. A narrow opening formed the entry way. It lead into a natural corridor that wound about in tunnel like fashion. The only light to guide us was from the flashlights. We must have gone on for a kilometer when a shallow pond halted our passage. Dan aimed his light into the clear pool and a moment later said, "I'm going in." I went in after him, and once in the water, felt an urge to pee. I held it back. The cave was surprisingly pristine, and had I not know better I would have thought we were the first people to have ever entered it. I simply could not soil such natural beauty with my urine. Thomas thought otherwise. I became rather irked when he finished up.

We spent the remainder of the day on the river in our rented tubes. Beers in hand, we drifted with the slow current and stopped only to get more beer. If there happened to be a slide or zip line at the bar, we went on it. Some hilarity ensued. A drunken British tourist went down a 100m long water slide with a large beer can. Golden foam burst in his face and he dropped the can while plunging 10m downward from the end of the slide. On my run I hit the water at a bad angle and had half the wind knocked out of me. Luckily, the edge of the river was close enough that I could make it ashore without any help.

Tubing in Vang Vieng was a satisfying end to my winter vacation. I only wish it had been easier getting back. That nightmare return began with a 4 hour ride to Vientiane by minibus. Then it was a flight to Bangkok and another stop over in Shanghai before arriving at Nagoya. From there I had to catch the train for two hours to reach my town. Altogether, it took over a day. And the cold winter weather in Japan did not provide a friendly welcome.

Three Riders

Wayward Traveller

In the past three years I have travelled eight times to eleven countries. That amounts to tons of milage, hundreds of flight hours, months worth of vacation, and millions of spent yen. And it is still not enough to sate my wanderlust. In fact, the more I travel the more I want to see. Just this last trip I was talking with a woman who lived in Saipan. She did a good job selling the island's merits and now I'm thinking I should visit. It's only a four hour flight away. But between my commitment to studying and the state of my ever so stagnant bank account I am a bit hesitant to travel this spring. However, if I don't go I may never have another chance. Next summer I already decided to visit home, and after that who knows.

Well, I went ahead and did some research, you know, to narrow down my options for a possible tropical island trip. Hawaii and Okinawa I realized are too expensive. Fiji, Micronesia and New Caledonia are too far. Bali and the Thai islands are much to touristy. So that left Cebu in the Philippines, Saipan, the other Mariana Islands, Guam and Palau. And of those Palau and Cebu stood out as the clear winners. But because I already visited the Philippines, Palau should be my next destination. Blessed with a coral lagoon, barrier reef and WWII shipwrecks the small island nation is consistently ranked the world's top dive spot (along with Australia's Great Barrier Reef). It also boasts jungle hiking, a jellyfish lake and boat tours. But all that comes at a cost. A nine day trip with diving would set me back considerably. By going to Guam or Saipan instead I could probably save 500 dollars or so. Or I could keep my money and stay at home. But when would I again have the chance to dive these spots? With global warming there is more urgency than ever to see and experience these tropical islands before their ecosystems change for the worse. Moreover, I must fulfill the solemn oath I made to myself upon receiving my dive license: to use it at least once a year.

Coral Islands of Palau