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The Reality
Older Entries
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Thu, 11 Oct 2007
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| The SIGHTS |
I know it’s a cliché, but they were simply
indescribable. I could never write down
everything we’ve seen or the thoughts that the
scenes evoke. But I’d like to mention a few,
and then try to get some photos up. From what
I’ve seen, the Vietnamese are smiling, polite,
gentle, industrious, hard-working people, who are
taking care of their livestock or farm, truck, or
boat, or small shop, as well as looking after
their children and extended family. (Unpaid
political comment: Can anyone possibly explain
why the USA deemed we should fight a war here??
New rule: Political leaders have to live in the
country and get to know the people before going
to war.) When you smile and wave, except for the
bewildered tribes in the most remote
mountaintops, they always brighten up. Often
they wave first. In the mountains and villages,
small children run to the edge of the road and
wave…the boys sometimes yelling, girls shyly
giggling. They like to try to give you a high-
five as you pass. Many women and girls wear dust
masks when riding a motorbike, but you can see
their smiling eyes when they recognize that
you’re a westerner, and wave. On more than one
occasion, we were offered tea (so strong and
bitter than we referred to it as “pig’s foot
tea”), or to have a drink of ruou (don’t go
there). Many times, a small child was carrying
his or her sibling on their back, to and from the
fields or tending giant water buffalo or cattle.
There is just so much work for them to do – men
and women and boys and girls alike – either
digging ditches, or breaking rocks, or gathering
bamboo or firewood, or harvesting rice, or
building a house or barn, or carrying anything
and everything on their motorbike on the way to
work. This includes hauling concrete, rakes and
shovels (sideways!), pulling logs, etc. There
were two men with a bamboo-and-steel band saw
sitting and sawing a big log – the long way – to
make planks. In the mountains, most of the men
dress in black, while the women have multi-
colored costumes – except they’re not really
costumes, but their everyday wear. What I call
the “blue tribe” dress in black pants and blue
tunics, and are the least animated and seemingly
most bewildered by outsiders, and not overly
animated or outwardly friendly. Their homes might
be bamboo stilt houses in the lower elevations,
or bamboo or wooden huts. As for the scenery,
there are magnificent, steeply-sided karst
(limestone) mountains in wave after wave. The
mountains and valleys are shrouded in mist,
giving soft light on even bright days. Often, we
were in the clouds or above the clouds, so the
valley below would be hidden by clouds. The rice
paddies are everywhere, varying in color from
deep green to golden, to brown after they’ve been
harvested. They are cut in along the mountains
and valleys in a myriad of shapes, since they
follow the contours of the land. In a few
instances, they completely circle small hills.
The hill people plant corn on slopes that are so
steep that I would find it hard to even stand
on. And they walk everywhere – up and down
mountains. There are big, wide, muddy rivers, as
well as swift-moving, clear mountain streams, and
too many cascades to count. Roads so steep that
you can only go up in first gear…and they may be
paved or dirt or mud or rock, or all of the
above. Many, many times the roads have been
wiped out by landslides or mudslides and they’re
just being cleared. On the resultant muddy
track, you can choose to ride in the muddy ruts,
down the center between the ruts, on the side
next to the mountain, or on the side next to the
cliff. Often the ruts are the best choice, but
you’re never quite sure how deep they are when
filled with water. After what seemed like
hundreds of ups and downs, on roads of all types,
we finished the ride last night in Lao Cai, on
the Chinese border in far northern Vietnam. A
hard-working amputee, along with his small
helper, cleaned and shined our muddy boots for
about $1.25 each. We then put the bikes on the
train, and four of us with all our stuff crammed
into a first class sleeping compartment for the
overnight ride back to Hanoi. The slow internet
connection here means it takes forever to upload
photographs, but of my 200-odd I’ll pick out the
best (assuming there are some) and post them over
the next few days.
Ride safely, Mike
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Posted 04:19
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| The SOUNDS and SMELLS |
We’re back in Hanoi at the Metropole, which is a
great contrast to the hotels we had up north. As
they say, it only costs about ten (or more) times
as much to go first class! It’s a nice place to
recover from the motorcycle trip. We had
acceptable hotels and restaurants throughout the
trip. A typical hotel bathroom just had the
shower head on the wall - so everything gets
wet. Even though they might not have been much
to look at, the hotels were a welcome sight at
the end of the day. And the “restaurants” were
very simple.
They’re generally small, narrow, crowded places
with picnic-type tables and small benches. The
kitchen typically has only a two-burner gas cook
top. Lots of places had small plastic stools or
chairs that would appear to have been made for
children if in the USA. I only had one collapse
on me! And they sure seemed hard after all day
in the saddle.
Always, you have to acknowledge finishing a
motorcycle trip and coming home safely. St
Columbanus, the patron saint of motorcyclists,
always looks after us. I guess he characterizes
cross-country bikers pretty well – impetuous,
head-strong, eager, passionate – potentially both
a source of power and cause of mistakes! We had
so many close calls – meaning blind curves with
motorbikes and trucks coming the other way,
overtaking a smelly diesel truck going up or down
the switchback mountain roads, passing trucks
going the same or opposite direction with no more
than a few inches of clearance (involuntarily
pulling in your elbows), climbing muddy and slick
rocky roads, falling over, and one near head-on
collision. We were passing through a village
when a motorbike towing another was coming toward
me. The one being pulled started drifting my way
(slingshot effect). I was as far to the right as
I could get and he just kept coming – I guess not
watching – wham! – hit my left side...luckily,
slight scrape and bruise on me, knocked off my
saddle bag, and crashed. He crashed, I didn't.
Since he was being towed, his "towtruck" dragged
him a short distance, but he was not injured
seriously. We
stopped to check on him, re-loaded, and continued
with thanks...again. So the "obstacles" include
not only the trucks and other motorbikes, but
people, horses, cattle, water buffalo, pigs,
chickens (two guys ran over a chicken on Day One -
the same chicken!), etc. “There’s a fine line
between livin’ it up and losing it
all…”
Since I couldn’t write each day, I’ll just
summarize some of the sights, sounds, and smells
of an unforgettable trip, but
words will never do justice to the experience.
It literally brings tears to your eyes to see the
beautiful, dramatic mountains and timeless
scenes, and interact with the gentle people of
such an isolated place.
First of all, the SMELLS. There’s usually smoke
in the air from charcoal fires or burning
wood/brush, so you encounter the smell of smoke
frequently. Cooking, whether over a small
charcoal brazier, or boiling pots, or woks, adds
to the mix. In the villages and markets, fresh
vegetables, including peppers and one memorable,
strong whiff of fresh coriander. Of course there
are barnyard smells because of the prevalence of
animals in the towns and villages and fields –
horses, cattle, water buffalo, chickens, pigs,
etc. In the mountains, there were the odors of
rain or mist, smoke, evergreens, and fast-running
streams. I should mention the local moonshine
here, but it could also fit under
”taste” or “sights” (which will become obvious).
It might be distilled from rice or corn, and is
clear UNLESS infused with powerful additives.
Aged in oak casks, I mean gasoline cans…or Pepsi
bottles, or any other kind of bottle they can put
their hands on. But it gets interesting when
they age it in jars with other things to add
flavor and power. Like 97 herbs and spices (the
Colonel’s recipe), or geckos, or poisonous
snakes, or goat genitalia. Color ranges from
clear to gold to amber to brown. Ummmm...nice,
with a delicate nose and smooth finish.
And the SOUNDS. I alluded to the bike horns, etc
in Hanoi a few days ago. I’ll replace the
borrowed videos on the home page with two that I
took here in Hanoi, one from the back of a
motorbike taxi, and one on a street corner.
During the day, there’s the constant beeping of
motorbikes, occasionally music over loudspeakers
(particularly early morning). However, you
really appreciate the sounds when out in the
countryside. The most annoying sound is the air
horns on trucks - loud and frequent, as they pass
too quickly through villages and down the
mountains. There are cicadas and crickets...the
first night out we were having dinner in an open-
sided, bamboo “stilthouse” next to our hotel in
the Ba Be National Park. Digby was telling us
about the snake restaurants in Hanoi where they
butcher and serve snakes (not for me for several
reasons). Naturally the discussion of snakes
continued, when suddently there was a buzz and
large whap!, causing everyone to jump about three
feet! It was just a big cicada that had flown in
and collided with someone’s chair, then continued
buzzing around. There are other simple pleasures
when riding in the mountains – stopping at the
top of a pass and killing the engines, then all
you hear are quiet, distant voices of workers in
the rice paddies below. Then the thump! of
bundles of rice stalks being beat on the side of
large, hand-made wooden tubs to separate the
grains. Or the tap tap tap of workers, sometimes
families, sitting beside the road hammering to
make small rocks from large rocks (“gravel” often
means fist-size rocks that are bone-jarring and
slick when wet). Sometimes the only sound is
that made by bells on the cattle and water
buffalo, added to the quiet, sing-song
exhortations of the boy or girl herding
them.
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Posted 03:15
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Mon, 08 Oct 2007
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| Starting Off |
I just noticed an internet cafe, for the first
time, while we're stopped to get the bikes worked
on. Although they're superbly simple and
reliable, we've put a lot of hard (read highway,
dirt, gravel, rocks, mud, up and down mountains)
miles on them. Hence, there are a few broken
bits, including my horn (an absolute necessity in
the towns and on blind curves) and front brake
lever. And saddle bags. I'll leave the details
for now and backtrack to Hanoi.
We geared up and were ready to leave Hanoi a few
days ago...while the whole country was feeling
Typhoon Lekima. While not as strong as they
might have been, there were high winds in the
center of the country and rain most places. So
we met at the bike shop and loaded everything up
and waited for the rain to abate. But it
didn't...so about 9:00AM it was time to either
leave town or cancel. Of course the logical
choice (!) was to go ahead and start the trip, so
we donned motorcycle jackets, rain pants, and
ponchos and started out the big door of the
garage into typhoonic (new word!) rain and about
1-2 feet of standing water. We thought it would
be OK as long as you didn't stop and put your
foot down. It did go OK for a few hundred yards,
except for the waves from trucks. Our leader was
not easy to spot, and he stopped a time or two to
see if we were behind him. That meant I had to
stop also. The first time, I stopped next to the
curb and put my right foot down. No problem.
The second time I drove over next to the curb and
promptly dropped into a hole - front and back
wheels. Naturally I had to put my feet down, so
water in the boots. Goretex-lined boots do a
great job of keeping water on the outside on the
outside, as well as keeping water on the inside
on the inside! There was no way to move the
bike, and a truck driver going the other way
stopped and helped me lift it out! Off we went
again. After a short distance we got out of the
high water in the industrial estate, and onto
Hanoi's streets and roads. Other than the rain
(and wet feet) it wasn't too bad. Traffic was
not a big deal.
We rode north for a couple of hours and
finally the rain turned to mist and then stopped
altogether. By then, everything was wet but it
all went OK. We made it as far as a small hotel
in Ba Be National Park. We had passed from the
plains into the mountains of northern Vietnam,
which is what the trip is all about. The people
of Vietnam are industrious, busy, friendly
(especially in the countryside), smiling,
waving.
It's time to go back to the bike shop so I'll
write about Ba Be Lake next time I get
access.
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Posted 20:46
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Tue, 02 Oct 2007
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| Flyin' and arrivin' |
We left Houston Saturday evening, had two dinners
(declined the third), two breakfasts, but only
one night, and arrived in Hanoi on Monday.
How does that work?? I'd be upset about losing a
day, but was just sitting on an airplane anyway.
Upgraded to 1st class from Houston to San
Francisco, then thankfully uncrowded economy
across the Pacific and on to Vietnam. The planes
were all on time, and baggage arrived with
passenger (unlike recent trips to Europe and
Africa) - how very convenient! Taking the "veep
car", aka VIP car aka Ford Mondeo from the
airport to the hotel was quicker and probably
cooler and still not too expensive - $30. The
driver honked continually, dodged motorbikes, and
promptly delivered us to the wrong hotel -- "no,
it's the Metropole, not the Sofitel Plaza". "Ah,
Metropo - no problem." He then drove all over
the Old Quarter looking for it. Rather than
get upset, it's best just to sit back and see the
sights. Eventually, he found the Metropole.
It's a beautiful French colonial hotel, built
around 1901, all dark wood and ceiling fans
and French bar and restaurant and nice smells.
Enough French flavor to really enjoy - mixed
with the helpful Vietnamese staff. After
checking in, lunch in the bar followed by
wandering around town.
Tuesday, it rained from mid-morning until early
afternoon (there's the small matter of a
typhoon off the coast but supposed to make
landfall in Vietnam). But the rain stopped and
allowed more wandering. The Vieux Carre (old
quarter) has lots of narrow streets, shops,
street vendors, and motorbikes. And more
motorbikes. But it's very interesting to see and
experience. Visited several galleries, small
restaurant for lunch, walking and walking. We'll
see how the typhoon affects motorbiking in the
mountains.
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Posted 10:40
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