Hue – It’s Two Syllables and Not a Color

Hue was the destination. Let’s get to the pronunciation. Penny thought it took me a very long time to get it right! It is not like the English word for color. It should have one of those little things over the “e”, but I don’t have that on my computer. The nuances of the pronunciations vary according to the region of the country, but “Who A” will be understood!

Spanning both sides of the Perfume River, the Imperial City of Hue is one of the most popular destinations in Vietnam. It is well known for its numerous 19th century ruins, royal tombs and of course a market. We checked in to our hotel (2-3 stars are more than adequate) and had enough time and energy to wander through the market. After the solitude of My Son, the rush hour traffic of two-wheelers (motorized and not) was at times overwhelming!









Dong Bo Market was busy and it had something for everyone: inside booths and outside stalls had produce, spices and a particularly large selection of seafood. Unfortunately, there were way too many flies for my liking. There were many Kodak moments, nonetheless.














As we headed out to dinner, the heavens opened up: thunder, lightening and a deluge of rain, coinciding with a momentary loss of electricity. Did I mention that Hue has the distinction of being one of the rainiest cities (about 120” each year) in Vietnam? This was our first rain.

By the morning the temperatures were in the 80’s and significantly less humid for the moment. Our first stop was the Imperial Citadel, a 6 square mile walled fort that dominates the city. Construction of the citadel was begun in 1804 and it served as Vietnam's capital until around 1945. This moated area includes the Thai Ho Palace and Forbidden Purple City, the former home of the royal family. The first thing you'll see on approaching it is Cot Co, the big flag tower.



The main entrance, through the Noon Gate, is so named because the sun, representing the emperor, is at its highest at noon. Facing south, the gate is also associated with prosperity. (I need to mention here that I became a millionaire in Vietnam – more about that later.) The Palace is the most important of the structures as this is where the emperor received important Vietnamese dignitaries and foreign diplomats.



The Noon Gate is behind us in this snap. Only the Emperor could use the central doorway, nobles used the side doors and mounted horsemen used arched doorways further to the side. The gate, constructed in 1833, is built in a U-shape to symbolize open arms for guests and incorporates repeated uses of the number 5 and 9 -- the luckiest numbers. 100 columns support the upper portion of the building.
I was fascinated by the decorative use of colored china and porcelain in the construction of all the buildings. The big drum is a magnet for tourist’s fingers!















There were a few busloads of school children visiting today and it appeared that this was the setting for their class picture.











I had to laugh when I remember my own grade school class pictures being taken on the stage of the auditorium.

The main palace inside, the Thai Hoa Palace, is ornately decorated in red lacquer and gold.



Further in, there are the halls of the mandarins on either end - military mandarins on one side and civil on the other. These halls were where the mandarins dressed in their ceremonial robes for royal functions.

Much of the interior was destroyed during the 1968 Tet offensive when the North Vietnamese held the fort for 26 days before being driven out by American forces. The damage inflicted to the architecture is still being repaired, but the Citadel may never be fully restored.

The moat is well stocked with carp; they are especially large from being fed by many tourists. There is a tale from Vietnamese folklore about a carp that wanted to become a dragon. The carp worked so hard everyday that it eventually became a dragon. Teachers and parents use this story to encourage their children to work hard at school so that they can become whatever they want to be.









The Thai Binh Lau (Royal Library) stands in a garden with a small pond and a large bonsai.




Beyond there were pavilions used by concubines.









Walking to the back of the citadel there was little to see. The theme of the dragon is very visible in the design of this pond as well as on many of the steps. The dragon symbolizes power and has long been associated with the emperors.



On the return, we turned down a side path to The Temple.














Outside, there are nine urns, cast at the request of Emperor Minh Mang in 1836, with nine different names symbolizing the Nguyen dynasty.


















On each of the urns is a finely carved collection of the 17 traditional Vietnamese patterns like stars, rivers, mountains, seas an ocean, vehicles, forestry and sea products. The patterns on these urns constitute a real encyclopedia on the country. This precious cultural heritage is incredibly well preserved and reflects the exquisite talent of Hue bronze casting artisans.

The are many exits from the Citadel and some are more decorative than others. This one was one of my favorites.












On the left bank of the Perfume River set high on Ha Khe hill is a Buddhist temple that dates to the turn of the 17th century.
















Thien Mu Pagoda, a seven-storey pagoda is one of the oldest and most beautiful of the religious buildings in the country. Located between a river and a pine forest, the pagoda is deeply rooted in local legend. As the story goes, an old woman once appeared on the hill and said that a Lord would come and build a Buddhist pagoda for the country's prosperity. Hearing of this, Lord Nguyen Hoang ordered the construction of the pagoda of the "Heavenly Lady" (Thien Mu).

The pagoda was renovated in 1665. A stele was erected on the back of a marble tortoise in 1715.













There is a special sort of "shrine" here to one of the former monks of the temple. At one end of a carport is an old rusty sky blue Austin on blocks.



It was in this car that the monk, Thich Quang Duc took himself to his self-immolation in a busy Saigon intersection in 1963. He was protesting against the persecution of Buddhists by South Vietnam's administration. Photos of his self-immolation were circulated widely around the world and brought attention to the policies of the Diem regime.

Behind the tower, the main sanctuary is situated at the back of a pleasant courtyard. In addition to the monks’ quarters, there are rooms for the novices, whom were walking about the courtyard when we were there.















Phung found a great lunch spot and it was almost like being in cooking school, only we were not cooking.















I photographed most of the shrines that were omnipresent.









After lunch we bicycled (hold on to the handlebars tightly) through the city to the home of a royal descendant. I thought this little oasis in the city was called the Temple of the Princess, but it might be a figment of my imagination. Within the walls of this estate was a feng shui designed sanctuary.

















This delightful man, a bit self-serving, is connected to the royal family by marriage. We had a guided tour of the garden and then the house. His historical artifacts and memorabilia are extensive and he had stories about each piece.

Our brains were overloaded with new knowledge and it was time to tend to our bodies. Penny, Jenny and Caroline had decided early on that a massage in each city was reasonable. We found an establishment that appeared legitimate and we went in.










We started laughing when we were handed the smallest of towels to wrap ourselves in. Communication was a bit problematic, but eventually we were given towels large enough to cover-up.

This was my first experience of having a very petite Asian woman jump up onto the massage table with me. Quite an experience – enough said!

And the adventure continues as we explore the Perfume River…

Going to Heaven – Really?

We were heading north into Central Vietnam and opted for an early departure to avoid some of the heat and the crowds of tourists who descend upon My Son. From Hoi An north to the former DMZ, the central part of the country is rich in historical sights and has a comparable amount of natural beauty.

If one thought that the Chinese shaped Vietnam until the French moved in, My (pronounced me) Son is the evidence that there was Indian influence as well. The kingdom of Champa flourished from the 2nd to the 15th century; the remains of the kingdom are mainly found at My Son. At its pinnacle, Champa controlled the entire central coast of what would later become Vietnam. The Chams, Hinduised through their trading contacts with India, functioned as a so-called confederation of five states that were named after regions of India. One in particular is Amaravati (Quang Nam).

At the beginning of the 10th century Champa was under military and political pressure, and lost ground during each decade moving forward. By the late 1400’s, Champa was essentially a “broken” country. It wasn’t until the 1800’s under the reign of Minh Mang, that the Vietnamese were victorious in taking the area as well as the southern Cambodian areas of the Mekong Delta and Prey Nokor (later named Saigon).

Although Champa disappeared, the Cham people did not. While the kingdom was enveloped by the Vietnamese, some of the Cham remained in their former homeland and others fled to neighboring Cambodia. Today, the “Eastern Cham” are divided between the Mekong Delta in the south and the central coast. They are Muslim and Hindu respectively. The “Western Cham” in Cambodia adopted Islam centuries ago. The legacy of the Champa, both religious and artistic, has survived in this area.

The ancient Cham ruins at My Son provide a journey back in time. The rust colored ruins covered in a leafy sea of myrtle and green vegetation are all that remain of the religious capital of Amaravati, the greatest of the Cham states. Built in the 4th century, the Kingdom remained fully occupied for 1000 years. This makes it the longest occupied of all the major monuments of Southeast Asia. The backdrop of Cat’s Tooth Mountain (God Mountain) was planned. It served as a religious and intellectual center where Champa kings were crowned and buried.

















The Cham worshipped a dual cosmology, honoring both male and female deities.





My Son represented the male God king – evidenced by the sacred Cat’s Tooth Mountain and Bhadresvarain ( Bhad abbreviated for king; esvara abbreviated for Lord Shiva). My Son was the creation of its own cosmos: Cat’s Tooth Mountain, an earthly linga, as the symbolic link between heaven and earth and a nearby river representing female fertility.































The temples of the Champa follow one basic design. They represent the Hindu abode of God and face the rising sun in the east; there is normally a Shivalinga at the center of the sanctum sanctorum; and they are usually three stories high and were a simple interior.



























The ornaments were attached after construction and then “fired” from the heat of a wood fire that burned around the structure for days. The outer walls of brick and sandstone were carved with amazing detail after construction.

During the height of the Champa kingdom, only a handful of attendants would have lived at My Son. When we arrived at the ruins, we were early enough to enjoy the solitude and beauty. It was easy to imagine these ancient structures decorated with colorful flags and energized with the humming of the monks’ incantations. You can feel the mysticism of the Gods of a bygone era.

Sadly, the last vestiges of the Champa Kingdom are in a significant state of disrepair.


















The temples sustained major damage during the American War. The Viet Cong used My Son as a key base, which forced US bombing of the site leaving about 20 of the original 70 structures intact. Bomb craters next to some of the temples are clearly visible. A major restoration project is underway. There is one riddle regarding the construction of the buildings that hasn’t been solved. How were the Chams able to build brick structures without cement or glue?

The site is often compared with some of the other great Indian influenced archaeological sites of SE Asia including Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Ayuthaya in Thailand. Apparently not as grand as what you would find in either of these countries, it is a major contribution to Vietnam's history. In 1999 it was named a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Caroline, Jenny’s French friend from her high school days as an exchange student in France, has spent quite a bit of time in Viet Nam over the past ten years. She has raised money for schools in rural villages.
















A building project was currently underway and we all wanted to see the school and children. It was off the beaten path, to say the least, but well worth the detour.



We were warmly greeted and the children loved having their pictures taken.














The new addition would more than double the size of the current schoolhouse. Noontime dismissal was interesting, as bikes seem to me the major mode of transportation.


And the bikes were loaded!

The drive to Hue, our ultimate destination, is said to be the most scenic in all of Vietnam. The road, of course, is narrow and climbs at a steep grade along the coast. The 12 mile drive (just a bit different from the one in Newport, RI) was complete with switchbacks, hairpin turns, waterfalls and dense vegetation on the mountainside and breathtaking views of the bowl-shaped Bay of DaNang on the other. Amid the beauty of this vista, ironically, is a leper colony.



We climbed through many curves for close to an hour. Although a bit hazy at the crest of the Hai Van Pass, we lucked out with the weather. Hai Van means "Sea Clouds”, but the clouds would not ruin our day! It was a Kodak moment we couldn’t resist.

Let me go back to the title of the blog –“ Going to Heaven – Really?” As often as our guide Phung mentioned our route for the day, I always heard “heaven”, which at many points made sense, knowing that the road climbed to an elevation of over 1200 feet. It was only after doing a map check enroute, that I realized we would go through the Hai Van (not Heaven) Pass. Duh… So to answer that question – No, not really heaven, but glorious nonetheless!


Although not able to capture the “big picture” in my “snaps” the wide-angle view from the crest of the pass, captures both North and South Vietnam. Hai Van pass forms an imaginary boundary between the two.













There are remnants of the fortifications built by the French and later used by the South Vietnamese and the Americans. We had to stop here. Out of nowhere came a small group of souvenir sellers. One of the women was close on Jenny’s heels as she climbed this rock.










She was the most aggressive (still talking to us as the van door was closing on her basket) we encountered during the whole trip.
















It was all downhill from here. The hairpin turns seemed sharper, but the valleys, rice fields and lagoons were beautiful to see.



We stopped for lunch at the village of Lang Co. The restaurant sits on a peninsula, which separates a shallow lagoon from the sea.













Dining on the porch, we indulged in what felt like a decadent lunch of grilled calamari and tamarind crab (which is much too much work for me).
















Our server facilitated getting the crab meat out!



The remainder of the drive had small hills but more magnificent vistas. It was hard not to stop but there were only so many Kodak moment pit stops to make. As we got closer to Hue, the panoramic vistas gave way to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was wonderful to savor the beauty of this day.

And the adventure continues in Hue…

Viet Nam: Let’s Start at the Very Beginning

Can you hum that tune – the Do-Re-Mi Lyrics? There were many firsts as I boarded my flight to Tokyo and on to Ho Chi Minh City. The first was the adventure of getting to JF Kennedy Airport in New York on public transportation! The second, undoubtedly, was the longest flight I had ever taken and Ambien was in order for some uninterrupted sleep. It all worked perfectly!

Landing in Tan Son Nhat International Airport left me with a little knot in my stomach wondering if the “plan” would come together. My suitcase was on the carousel and I breathed my first sigh of relief. The second big sigh was completing the “visa on arrival” process.



I was engulfed in a sauna as I exited the airport. It was still amazingly hot and humid at midnight: 29 degrees centigrade (85 humid degrees!). There were hundreds of people with lots of luggage, not really luggage but boxes of stuff meeting people outside the airport. Scanning the crowd, looking for a perfect stranger, had to be the most anxiety producing moment! Finally, my name – in English! The third big sigh was the charmer! I found MY driver. Meet Duong.



My stay at the hotel was limited to a few hours of shuteye and a middle of the night (4 am) return to the airport for an early morning flight to DaNang. I vaguely remember closing my eyes!

Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon, is the largest city in the country. It was here that I had my introduction to electricity in Vietnam.



Energy conservation – the key has to be inserted in this wall-mounted outlet for the lights AND air conditioning to work. Brilliant, it is impossible to leave the lights or air on when you are not in the room. The overall management of electricity is another story – it really isn’t managed and these nests of electrical wires abound!









It was a quick flight and my guide, Phung, found me and we were on our way to Hoi Ann.









I had the Cliff notes tour of DaNang: the bunker remains of an American Army installation just south of the city, the beautiful and famous Marble Mountain, and miles of beautiful beaches. Given the state of the economy in the states, I was amazed at the amount of active construction. There were major resorts being built near the beaches, including two golf courses.

There are almost 20 miles of beach along this section of the country; between DaNang and Hoi Ann is China Beach. It is most well known of these beaches having earned its reputation as a favorite place for American soldiers on R & R during the war, on a dramatic TV show, by the same name, in the late 80’s into the 90’s.

Hoi Ann, my destination, is a seaport that was used by the Champa Kingdom from the 2nd to the 10th centuries. This trading port had been home to Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, Portuguese and French merchants at various times over the years. The efforts of each of the successive regimes to influence development are evidenced in the diverse architecture that remains today. Hoi An, spared the ravages of war, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

I found Penny, Jenny and Caroline having breakfast at a virtual oasis of tropical paradise near the Old City.








The Vuon Trau Family Resort was lush and serene, complete with hibiscus, frangipani, fishponds and singing (or talking) tropical birds in large bamboo cages. How cool is this to rendezvous with my friends on the other side of the planet? We had breakfast in the garden and I caught my breath briefly before we headed off to cooking school and a tour of the market.

Penny and Jenny are part of the Moosewood Collective in Ithaca, New York. They cook for a living. I knew that going to cooking school with them would be fun. Our destination was the Morning Glory Cooking School. Here’s an analogy - My Vy : Hoi An : : Stephen Starr : Philadelphia. Both have influenced and elevated the food scene in their respective cities by opening many successful restaurants.














Today, Ms Lu would be filling in for Ms Vy who is taking a maternity leave from the day-to-day business at the restaurant and cooking school. First stop was the market: Ms Lu pointed out the local produce, spices, noodles, rice crackers and seafood. Our young teacher had boundless energy and we were on the go weaving our way through the bustling stalls! I’m sure you know by now how much I enjoy taking photos in the market! As we were leaving, Ms Lu “confessed” that the woman who was cutting pineapple was her mother.

Back in the kitchen at the Morning Glory cooking school,



we donned our aprons and got to work. Ms Lu was a great teacher and our results looked almost like hers!
















We made spring rolls, learning the fine art of handling rice papers; crispy Vietnamese pancake with shrimp, mastering the frying of the crepe, green papaya salad and a barbeque grilled chicken (my absolute favorite) to die for!













We were on a tight schedule but wandered through the old city on the way back to our “piece of paradise”.



It was hot and the beach was calling.



We decided to get some exercise and pedal our way seeing the sights along the way. It was a relatively flat ride with beautiful scenery at each bend in the road. A slipping chain required mechanical assistance.













Swimming in the South China Sea – "delicious" is the adjective that my sister often uses to describe perfect water!









The beach was great, complete with umbrellas and lounge chairs. We hung out for a while before continuing our loop on the back roads through small villages where the farmers grow herbs and greens.









They are the most beautifully manicured vegetable gardens. (Mr Bill was having fun as well.) This felt like full circle in reverse, as the herbs and greens in the fields were what we saw at the market this morning.

The owners of our bungalow invited all the guests to a “family” dinner in the garden courtyard. We were a cast of characters right out of a John Irving novel: Penny and Jenny, restaurant people from upstate NY; a retired Canadian couple who spend quite a bit of time in Vietnam volunteering their time to assist NGO’s, a Dutch family with 3 year old son, who were traveling with her mother and a friend; a young couple (university professors) from Utah with 10 year old son, my roommate, Caroline, French by birth currently living in Amsterdam who has traveled to Vietnam 20 time over the past 10 years, and me, the school nurse on an educational sabbatical from Philadelphia. Does Hotel New Hampshire sound familiar? It was interesting dinner conversation, but jet lag caught up with me and I turned in early when my eyelids would not stay open.

And the adventure continues (after a night of sleep in a real bed)…

Sapa: Mountain Peaks, Amazing Women, Fog and Rain

I heard the rain and thunder during the night and remember thinking, as I fell back to sleep, that maybe the storm would pass through the mountains and clear with the rising sun in the morning.

At daybreak it was obviously NOT to be. The hotel was shrouded in the grayness of low hanging storm clouds. The discussion at breakfast was “what to do?” It was telling that Penny, who never needs protection from the elements, had acquired an umbrella from the hotel staff.

Our planned destination was Cat Cat, a village about 2 miles to the south. The distance wasn’t the problem; the terrain was. It was a very steep and rocky trek. Add the rain and mud and it would be treacherous. Without a view, it was a no-brainer!






Phung decided that ponchos were in order if we were going to venture outside.


We headed out and for a brief moment, the clouds settled below the mountain peak – it was very cool.



We decided to go to the market and see the handicrafts of Red Dao.

The daytime market doesn’t compare to the folklore of the former Saturday evening market. As the story goes, Sapa was famous for its “love market”. This cultural highlight used to be the place for tribal locals to find a partner and get married.

Tradition has it that young Red Dao used to come to Sapa and sing songs to find their partners. Girls, hidden in the dark, would sing, play panpipes and mouth organs. When found by a boy - if they liked each other - they would disappear into the forest for three days. Some of them got married after that.

With the development of tourism, the real love market no longer takes place. There is a representative performance of the singing and rituals on Saturday evening in one of the community buildings.

Sapa would be considerably less colorful and interesting without the H’mong and Dao people, the largest ethnic groups in the region. The H’mong are more numerous and resourceful. Their villages may look primitive but most will have mobile phones and an email address to stay in touch. Traditionally, they were the poorest of the poor but have rapidly learned the spirit of free enterprise. Most of the Montagnards have no formal education but the arrival of foreigners/tourists has made them well aware of the value of money and many of the youngsters have picked up a basic level of English, French and a handful of other languages.

The incursion of tourism has forever changed the local tribes. Their simple lives: the cultures and languages, customs and clothing, with a backdrop of mountainous beauty are the attraction. The local women’s pursuit of tourists down Sapa’s main street, bartering over colorful clothing and souvenirs, can be an annoyance for those hoping to be left alone.

The rain really didn’t stop business in town. Umbrellas and ponchos were selling briskly and the Black Hmong women seemed to have matching umbrellas as they walked up the main street pursuing sales!



The market where the Red Dao were working was bustling. The billowing red headdresses of the Red Dao are visible all over town.





It is a surreal sight amid the accelerating development; that translates into hand embroidery and using cell phones simultaneously.









There were heavy negotiations over some handicrafts; photographs were involved. And there were some angry Red Dao as well. We made our purchases and continued through the remainder of the market to check out produce (greens galore, banana flowers, and bamboo) and poultry (chicken feet) among other items. There is always a Kodak moment to be found!



















As the rained slowed we decided to make our way to the waterfall. Thac Bac (Silver Waterfall), with a height of more than 325 feet, is one of the highest waterfalls in the country.















It was a loop track, steep and scenic, and there were stairs all the way. Phung, Jenny and I decided to climb and we left Caroline and Penny with the vendors by the barbeques I’d taken on the role of stair counting: 473 to the top and 488 coming down the other side.


















We had a snack of roasted sweet potatoes and eggs, rice stuffed in bamboo, and tea before heading on our way. Mr Bill was right there with us; on the grill, almost in the fire!

We drove to Ta Phin Village, home to Red Dao and about 6 miles from Sapa. Our arrival coincided with a few other larger vans with many more tourists. This allowed us to slip through most of the gauntlet of red headed women and children anxious to have a conversation and a sale with the tourists.



The scenario repeats itself at most of the villages: “Hello…what is your name? Where are you from? How old are you? How many children do you have?“ Most of the woman speak just enough of many languages to make an instant connection. More amazing is that these language skills are acquired from speaking with and making contacts with tourists.

I must say that there is always something to see in each village. I loved this young boy riding the water buffalo.



It felt as though spring was in the air. There were babies everywhere: humans,



ducks,









and pigs.










Ta Phin is one of the villages that offers overnight community-based tours. They have upgraded some of the facilities and offer an “up close and personal” experience of living amongst the minorities.

We stopped to see the ruins of an old church that was beautiful in its decay. The building had crumbled, but enough detail remained amid the moss to capture a by gone era.















Leaving Sapa, one might see stunning scenery on the passes were it not for the hovering clouds and fog. Intermittent clearing gave us snippets of the magnificent mountain peaks and vertical rice terraces.



I was sad to leave the mountains. There were still places to see and treks to make. It had been a pleasant relief to leave the hustle and bustle of the city.



Enroute to LaoCai, we stopped by the Sino-Vietnam border; it was the closest I would get to China on this Asian adventure!













We saw all that LaoCai had to offer (which really was not much) while we waited for a very delayed overnight train to Hanoi.



We settled into our “deluxe” sleeper cabin and realized that a later departure was advantageous, as we would have a later arrival (6:30am) in Hanoi. I was lulled to sleep in the rocking cabin.

And the adventure continues in Hanoi…

A Day of Trekking in SaPa

Vietnam is a country of ethnic minorities, with over 50 of them recognized by the Vietnamese government. The two largest groups are the Kinh (Viet) and the Hoa (Chinese), accounting for 86% of the population. The remaining ethnic minorities are known as the montagnards (mountain people), so named by the French.

The Hmong and the Zao are the largest groups in SaPa. Each of the groups has its own cultural heritage, lifestyle and language. Having settled in the mountains more than 5,000 years ago, the tribes still hold fast to custom and rituals. Historically, these groups have not been educated. The women, however, have been very industrious with embroidered clothing and handicrafts.

Located near the Chinese border in NW Vietnam. SaPa is often called as "the Tonkinese Alps". It is an incredibly picturesque village, not unlike any of the ski villages in the Alps. The big draw to the area is the trekking expeditions out to local villages and beyond. With the backdrop of the Fanxipan peak at over 10,000 feet, there is spectacular scenery everywhere; that is when the area is not shrouded in a low lying cloud or fog!

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as we headed down the paved road; but when we stopped at the top of the dirt turnoff, I should have realized the adventure would begin in earnest. We would leave the road for a steep descent over a dirt road toward the rice terraces. Enroute we pass a few houses, buffaloes, pigs,and of course the H'mong girls trying to sell us their goods.















Women and children selling a variety of souvenirs AND bamboo walking sticks greeted us. We debated amongst ourselves about a purchase, and then with a young boy about the cost of the bamboo pole. In the end, we each spent 5,000 VN dong (roughly 50 cents) for a touch of security and stability. As I write this sounds it sounds absolutely absurd, but in the moment, it was real!



The women and children are persistent in their sales approach. ”Hello, will you buy from me?” “What is your name?” “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” And the questions go on. Having learned the language from other tourists, they have the ability to bond with you on many levels. The chatter continues and at some point I realized that these women would be with us for the day! I did not know at the time how opportune that would be.



Yesterday we saw many of the terraced plantings from afar. They are a magnificent vista. It’s only when I got “up close and personal” that I realized that the terraces were all flooded with water. (Think mud!)



The rice fields are completely under water, which is refreshed continuously by the water flowing from the mountains. The water flows from one rice field to another via small canals until it reaches the river in the valley. The rice is planted three times each year with a 3-month growth cycle. The various shades of green that we have seen are month two in the growth cycle.



I want to give you a clear visual on the non-terra firma! Yes, this meant that at different points I would be trekking across a stonewall that felt like a 4 inch balance beam!



Did I mention that I loved my bamboo walking stick? I was doing pretty well, not feeling confident, but managing and then this very rough hand took mine and kept me on the very narrow edge of the stonewall.



It was Girl Power all the way! So how do you thank these women for their guiding hands? Giving them a tip is not culturally acceptable, so purchasing some of their embroidered handicrafts is the best option. I have a new embroidered cummerbund!

As we continued on the trail, the footing was more secure and we walked through very small villages. More often than not, we were the only trekkers; that allowed us the quietude to really take in the environs.










The terraced landscape was a constant, the homes varied: some were in disrepair and others were well constructed.









Open fires (in the houses) for cooking and drying meat were common.





There were children everywhere, as the morning session of school had dismissed.










We heard music as we passed through a village and stopped in for a closer look. A young man was playing a keyboard, and it was pure gold to our ears.



Caroline took a turn on the “ivories” and this young man was intently watching and listening. We continued to listen, after bidding farewell, as our new friend resumed practicing and it sounded familiar. This young musician had mastered Caroline’s tune melody and replayed it was we left the church.


The river itself was low and we crossed a very rocky beach before coming upon another “toll bridge”.



This one was not as well maintained as the previous one, but nonetheless, there was a fee to cross. Because it felt like a tightrope, my hands were trembling too much for any photos - a "missed" kodak moment!

Back in town, we walked up hundreds of steps to the top of Dragon Jaw Mountain, which has a botanical garden and a small performing center. The fog had settled in and the view was the length of our arms. As the saying goes, “over here you would see….” (Caroline promised to send pictures of previous visits when the sun was shining!)



We saw an ethnic dance performance and I must admit that I had a laughing attack when a young man was “making music”, blowing into a leaf. On the return trip down the hundreds of steps, we stopped for an herbal bath and massage.











This wooden tub was filled with the hottest brown, herb infused water my little tootsies have ever touched. This is a picture of my massage girl, and the older woman who owns the place. The massages are inexpensive by US standards, and the technique differs as well. The first time this young girl hopped up onto the table with me I wasn’t quite sure what to do! (Breathe deeply…in and out…)

We made our way back to the village stopping for a snack at the corner. It is a very common sight for women to set up a small barbeque and cook kebabs of beef, lamb, small “unnamed” birds; roast eggs, chestnuts or sticky rice in bamboo. We pulled up stools and sat for a while.



Later that evening we headed out to sample a Vietnamese specialty, Hot Pot: a simmering metal pot of stock. While the hot pot is kept simmering, ingredients are placed into the pot and are cooked at the table.










Our hot pot included lots of leafy greens, mushrooms, tofu, and ginger. The cooked food is usually eaten with noodles and a dipping sauce. The greens that we had were wonderful!

With our stomachs full and my bed calling to me, the adventure continues….

The Fanxipan Express

I’ve been in Viet Nam for a week, taking in the sights and struggling with an enormous amount of history that I don’t think that I ever learned. I’ll get back to the sights of the first week later on. We left Hanoi last night on the overnight train, the Fanxipan Express, to Lao Cai, a small town on the China border. Hanoi was participating in a Save the Earth program and the lights were dimmed at 8:30pm. We were waiting by the railroad tracks; ready to board the train and it became apparent that there was a problem. Our car was missing. Wait long enough and magic happens: a car backs up and attaches itself to the train. We were good to go! There is nothing like riding in the caboose, with your fingers crossed, hoping that the mechanic hooked the last car up correctly!

I don’t know when I was last on an overnight train, if ever, but it was cozy and comfortable enough for a few hours sleep. Let me introduce my cabin mates. Penny Goldin is a childhood friend of mine; she and her friend, Jenny Wang are both members of the Moosewood collective in Ithaca, NY. Caroline Chauteau, a French woman living in Amsterdam, is a friend of Jenny’s dating back to a high school exchange program in France. Caroline has traveled often to Viet Nam and was the organizer of this great adventure. That is the cast of characters, in addition to our guide Phung (who was not sharing a cabin with us!)

The train rocked and rolled and chugged along climbing to over 4000ft in elevation during the 8 hour ride. Our arrival in Lao Cai seemed to be the morning alarm for the town. It came alive. A quick breakfast at a local restaurant and we were on our way to the BacHa Market. Although only 40 km away, the drive to BacHa over winding narrow roads with many switchbacks, that climbed another 1000 vertical feet, would take almost 2 hours!




The market, as promised was large and colorful. The Flower Hmong people predominate, and they are friendly, photogenic and persistent saleswoman.







This weekly market is a major gathering place and meals are prepared in addition to everything (fruits, vegetables, spices, tobacco), and anything (tools, wooden yokes for the water buffalo, brooms, and animals). We did our part to support the local economy.



Before leaving town, we stopped at the Hmong Kings House.


Built by the French colonists and Chinese in 1920, it is a beautiful saffron colored building that would fit right in with the mansions in Newport, RI.

The terra cotta roof is very distinctive. The house is vacant at this time, but plans are to develop a hotel at the site.





We stopped at a Hmong village and the children were thrilled that Phung had treats for them. They love having their pictures taken. The Flower Hmong people are best known for the colorful dress they wear. At this home, the grandmother was eager to join in the photo-op.


















We trekked across the rice fields visiting the remote villages of the Black Yao, Nung and Phu La tribes on the way.









The manicured fields and vistas were breathtaking; the shades of green were endless.



We crossed this small bamboo toll bridge, which kept us out of the river and feet dry. The young woman who built the bridge has no problem charging for her efforts.


Did I mention that there are a lot of water buffalo? Mr Bill could not believe the size of this “patty” on the path. I have to admit that it was bigger that any bison deposits that I ever saw in Yellowstone!




At the water’s edge, we took a boat ride down the Chay River.



There were more beautiful vistas and an interesting industry of reclaiming sand from the water for construction.



We backtracked on the same winding road to La Cai and then up a similar winding to SaPa. There was a stark contrast in the dress of the people as we climbed toward SaPa: the Black Hmong, with black skirts and tops and Red Yao, with red triangle scarves covering the women’s heads made up the majority.

We checked into the Bamboo Sappa Hotel; the climb to our 5th floor rooms was worth the view alone!

Unfortunately, the clouds descended from the mountaintop before we were able to enjoy the sunset.

Tomorrow – more trekking and an adventure that continues…

Home Sweet Home

There is nothing better than having your bags roll off the carousel timely and in one piece; even better is when you get to the train station at the airport and the train that pulls up, is the direct train to Jenkintown. All good! Let me add to the list: sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow…and having hundreds of pictures to entertain myself if the memories start to fade. Those are the highlights.

The lowlight is the “back to reality” thing. Worse, however, is rejection. I was actually shocked when I learned that my services were NOT needed at Yellowstone National Park this summer. Adding insult to injury, the WXPN Humanitarian Mission to Cuba (of which I was scheduled to attend) had been cancelled. Bummer!

I wasn’t even settled in at home, and I was restless. I had spoken with a friend, Penny before I left for Israel and we talked about travel plans. She was surprised that I was staying less than 6 weeks in Israel (she thought it was 3 months), and I was a bit envious that she was planning a Viet Nam trip for 3 weeks at the end of March.

I called and floated the idea of joining her in Viet Nam and a plan was hatched. I was able to buy a ticket the next day, and with a flurry of emails and the help of her friend who planned the trip, I would obtain a “visa upon arrival” in Ho Chi Minh City, fly to Danang, and meet them in Hoi Ann.



It felt a bit hectic reorganizing, but there was one highlight that I perceived to be my good luck omen. It involves my little friend Mr Bill, who has been traveling with me for almost a year now. Last June, when I was packing the car for my annual pilgrimage to RI, Mr Bill had a photo op riding on my bike that was on the roof rack. When I got to RI, I absolutely could not find him. Of course I figured he had an “oh noooooo..” moment under the tires of an 18-wheeler on the PA or NJ Turnpike. And I mourned his passing. I eventually found a new Mr Bill. Long story short, as I was driving out of my driveway one day when I was home, there was a very dirty Mr Bill sitting on the fence. He’d been in the yard for almost a year. Very dirty, but no worse for wear, he had the opportunity to meet his brother. Mr Bill #1 is looking a bit like Pigpen from the Peanuts strip, but still as photogenic as ever.

I transitioned nicely in East Coast time and within 8 days of returning home I was packed for yet another chapter of the great adventure (with Mr Bill #2 in my bag).