Final Thoughts – sjp

Traveling for 45 days is kind of a long time. In 45 days you can explore a lot of new places. You can experience a variety of new things. You can meet a whole bunch of new people. You can catch up with some of those people you don’t see enough when you’re at home. And you most definitely come to realize how much you miss what you have left behind.

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting coming into this trip. I don’t think I was necessarily looking to get anything in particular out of it, it just seemed like a cool thing to do and a great opportunity to see some new places. So by those rather “low bar” goals, the trip has been a complete success. Actually, I think by most measures it has been a great trip. Even with a few less than ideal experiences along the way we have come through with smiles on our faces and a lot of great memories.

A couple of smaller things that made a difference:

• Running in the mornings in northern Lao and central Vietnam
  • While I’m not even close to my glory days of easy 12 mile runs, getting a mile or two off the beaten track into some of the areas surrounding the towns where we were staying was great
  • In one Lao village a group of old women waved and laughed as I ran out past them, and then looked completely bewildered when 5 minutes or so I ran back in the other direction (while my Lao is not very good, I’m pretty sure I made out the phrase for “crazy white man”)
• Taking pictures along the way
  • While there is always a risk of missing the experience because you’re busy messing with your camera, I found it forced me to look at things a little differently
  • Besides great as memories are, it’s nice to flip through pictures every now and then
• Meeting up with people along the way
  • HBS crew in Singapore, Jen in Cambodia & Hong Kong, Anne’s dad in Ho Chi Minh City
  • The local perspective was always appreciated
  • It was also good to introduce a new personality into the trip dynamic for a short while
• Writing the blog
  • A few people were worried we would “waste” too much time writing all this, but in retrospect I would have to conclude that was not the case at all
  • To be fair, we have spent a lot of time on this, maybe more due to our “rambling” writing style rather than sheer volume of content but nonetheless
  • I have found that writing all this has helped me synthesize and refine my thoughts about some of our experiences, plus barring the collapse of this whole internet fad we have a pretty great record of our expereince
  • It has also been nice keeping all of you up to date on our movements. The comments and emails you have sent responding to various things we have written have been great. And besides, now we don’t have to tell the same stories over and over again …
• Traveling with a good friend (okay this is officially the sappy part of the blog)
  • I’m not sure I would have wanted to do this trip alone. I know a lot of people travel by themselves and have a great time, but I don’t think that’s really something I’m interested in.
  • Through all the places we went it was great to have a familiar presence with some shared history and understanding
  • At the same time it was good to have a slightly different perspective as we reflected on the various things we saw
  • And to address the comments some made before we left, Mike and I survived this trip relatively unscathed… to be sure a few minor frustrations along the way, but we were never at each others’ throats ready to make it a solo expedition from that point on

 

Tourism

After 5 weeks in Southeast Asia, we felt it was high time to mention something that has pervaded our trip, but hasn’t yet been discussed: sex tourism. In every single country we’ve visited, we’ve seen dirty, old, gross-looking white men with very young, beautiful Asian girls. Some look so young that we have to tell ourselves that these girls must be the mens’ nieces or daughters from the wives they met during the Vietnam War; it’s just too abhorent to think otherwise. It’s a despicable practice, and it’s incredibly sad that this represents one of the best ways for these girls to make better lives for themselves — whether it’s a steady, relatively big paycheck or a chance to “fall in love” and find a rich westerner to take care of them, these girls make a better living than most who lack education.

Although it’s hard to catch these people in the act, here’s one sketchy guy with his girl:

Then it struck us: we have a sex tourist in our midst, too: older white person taking advantage of hot Asian ass and meeting up for trysts in exotic locales. It’s morally reprehensible.

-mike

 

One last stop

For those of you who haven’t experienced it, the approach into the Hong Kong airport on a clear day is one of the most impressive I have ever seen. It may not be the (in)famous approach through the city to the old airport (now closed), but the views of the islands, the mountains, and the city itself is stunning as you bank into the new airport.

The approach to the old airport (clearly not one of our pictures):

At various points over the last week we had played with several ideas about where to stay upon arriving in Hong Kong – use more Sheraton points, stay at Mike’s former manager’s apartment, someone even told us that the YMCA was cheap and outfitted like a fancy hotel. So as per usual when faced with too many options our indecisive natures roared to the forefront and we made no decision. Instead we exercised the ultimate backup and showed up at Jen’s super fancy hotel (since her time with us in Cambodia, my sister has been in Hong Kong for work). Feeling quite comfortable in Jen’s hotel room, Mike and I decided to stay… I’m not sure if we were actually invited or whether we invited ourselves, but either way we made ourselves at home.

Parked in front of the hotel - red for Mike, black for Jen, and yellow for me:

We tried to catch the hotel changing the elevator mats, but they were too sneaky for us:

In the “same, same, but different,” post we mentioned the knock-off merchandise pervasive in Asian markets. Most of the stuff you find isn’t very good and doesn’t actually bear much of a resemblance to the original… but if you know the right people, you can arrange meetings to see some things that are quite good and do bear a striking resemblance to the real thing. We, of course, want nothing to do with such shady undertakings and would have no part of it. But hypothetically speaking, had we been interested, and if someone we know who spends a good amount of time in this neck of the woods had known such a person, we could have arranged such a meeting, could have been very impressed with the quality of the goods offered, and could have made a purchase or two.

The city of Hong Kong is split in half – the Kowloon side and the island side. Each night the buildings in the city put on an elaborate light show, so after picking up one of Jen’s colleagues at another hotel, we wandered along the Kowloon side river bank enjoying the spectacle. A short ferry ride took us over to the island side, and then a tram ride up to the Peak for dinner.

View from the peak:

After dinner we headed to Lan Kwai Fong, home of Hong Kong’s bar/club scene. The highlight of the evening was the Filipino cover-band (same, same, but Filipino?) playing at a bar called Insomnia. Perfect impressions of Shakira and Cranberries, and very impressive renditions of Green Day, Fugees, and much more had the whole club going crazy – and led Mike to commit to booking them for his wedding (pending the approval of the future Mrs of course).

Cover band at Insomnia:

Matt (Jen’s colleague), Jen, and me on the street after the band:

Just in case you were wondering where Jen got that ice cream:

After ice cream I headed home and the rest of the crew partied the night away…

We knew that we couldn’t end our trip without at least one more set of temples/statues; so on Sunday Jen, Mike, and I headed to Lantau Island to see the “Big Buddha” (that’s really what it’s called…okay, well technically it’s the Tian Tan Buddha, but it is referred to everywhere as the Big Buddha). While it was only constructed 1993, it was still pretty impressive sitting at the top of a mountain looking out over the water (you might start picking up on the fact that Hong Kong has lots of mountains and water).

The Tian Tan “Big Buddha” (the world’s tallest outdoor seated bronze Buddha):

Monastery next to the Big Buddha:

Having checked the sightseeing/culture box for the day, we headed back to the city and settled in for an evening of wandering the streets/markets and going to see Superman Returns at a local mall.

Nathan Road:

Late night scene outside the movie theater/mall:

As Monday rolled around, Jen headed off to China with one of her vendors to visit a “wash house.” (We wanted to go with her to see what a Chinese factory was really like, but ran into that whole visa issue…even though they are the same country…sort of…) Limited to more ordinary tourist fare, Mike and I jumped on a bus across the island to Stanley Market. Having wandered around the market for a while and spent the rest of the day hanging out and relaxing.

Hong Kong has really become  the first step in our “decompression” from our 45-day Asian experience. Just as the decidedly Western feel of Singapore helped ease us into the the trip, Hong Kong’s vibe is helping to transition us out. And just as well since tomorrow we fly to Tokyo for a quick stopover before heading home on Wednesday. 

-sjp

 

H to the Izzo

I’m definitely not cool enough to quote Jay-Z or anything, but since this post catalogs our adventures in the 4th & 5th places in a row whose names begin with “H” (after Ho Chi Minh City, Hoi An, and Hue), this song popped into my head.

Anyway: here’s Hanoi and Halong Bay (H to the izza, n to the izzoi and h to the izza, l to the izzong, respectively).  Next is Hong Kong.  That’s a lot of H’s.

Lonely Planet had another couple scams for us to read about as we flew into Hanoi, and lucky for us, we got to experience one right off the bat.  We took the Vietnam Airlines mini bus into the city, which is about an hour away, paying a whoppng $4 (vs. $13 for a taxi).  We were talking to a Dutch couple and discovered that we were all headed to the same guest house, one which LP had recommended as an “Author’s Choice.”  After dropping most other people off in various locations around the Old Quarter – you know, because a minibus can’t go anywhere without being packed full of people — the bus stopped at the guest house we wanted.  A man greeted the bus and told us that the place we wanted was fully booked and that we should go to another hotel nearby.  The minibus proceeded to take us there as I was trying to locate us on the map.  I realized we were not on the right street and in fact were nowhere near the guest house at which we were trying to stay.  I told everyone that we were being scammed, just as LP had told us we would be, so we got out and took a taxi to the place we really wanted to go.  (I felt like a very savvy traveler at this point. An old hand. Can’t fool me!)

The guest house ended up being a bit too expensive for our tastes, so we ended up heading back to where we had been before because we’d met a guy that had a guest house that looked good in pictures and was a third of the price.  He even paid for the taxi.  We got the room: it was a bit dingy, but it had A/C, 2 beds, and a bathtub (not because we’re taking a lot of baths, but because bathtubs are very useful for not getting water all over the bathroom when one showers).  We then headed out to book our tour to Halong Bay.  Our hostel also happened to be a tour agency, and our friend who convinced us to come to his guest house told us about his particular tour, which could do an overnight trip for $35.  He said that since it was so late in the day, we really ought to book the tour.  He told us that we could sign up with him and then cancel later if we booked with someone else, “No problem.”  So we signed up “pending confirmation.”

We then proceeded to Kangaroo Cafe, where we booked a nicer tour for $55.  We did a little sightseeing around Hanoi, but our hearts weren’t really into it, since we’d been doing city sightseeing non-stop since Phnom Penh.  After meandering back to our hostel, we looked for our guy so we could cancel the trip, but he was nowhere to be found, so we took a nap.  When we woke up, we sought him out, and he told us it was too late to cancel the trip, and we would have to pay a cancellation charge.  Since Vietnamese law requires guest houses to obtain guests’ passports, we had very little leverage, but we pissed and moaned as much as we could.  We got the cancellation charge down to $6 total, but were still a bit ticked off and in general not feeling very tolerant of the grunginess of the place, as well as being a bit on edge from the noise and crowds of the narrow streets in the Old Quarter.  We consoled ourselves by agreeing to get pizza for dinner. (Maybe we were just cranky after our naps.)

That night, we went to the Water Puppets theater, which was quite cool.  There were about 20 mini-acts that depicted typical scenes from Vietnamese life, mythology, and history, all done in front of a pagoda with a large pool of water in front.  The puppets danced across the water while their reflections shimmered and shined.  The kids watching it were jubilant, and we had a great time.  These pictures don’t do it justice:

After that, we went to get some decent pizza and pretty bad wine.  It was good enough for me, though.

Next morning, we got up and changed hostels.  This immediately improved our moods, as the new place was cleaner and had much better air-con.  We zoomed off to Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum complex, somewhat re-energized and ready to do more serious sightseeing.

Although I didn’t get it on camera, there’s a huge line snaking around the Mausoleum to view Ho, and the majority of visitors are Vietnamese.  (Ninety-eight percent of the visitors in the whole complex were Vietnamese — pretty much the one touristy thing we did that didn’t involve a majority of western tourists.) Ho is on display in a glass case for 9 months of the year; the other three months he is in Russia undergoing “repairs.”  No cameras inside, but here’s the outside of the mausoleum, from the back:

Next we saw Ho’s House on Stilts, which is designed to be similar to the traditional stilt housing of Vietnamese farmers, which represents Ho’s commitment to simplicity and living for the people.

We stopped by the Ho Chi Minh Museum, as well, which is pretty surreal, and is both a tribute to Ho and a somewhat abstract-impressionist take on Vietnamese Revolutionary history and the ideals of peace, liberty, fraternity, and equality — presented in a much more Communist than French-revolutionary way, of course.

Afterwards, we went to have lunch at a restaurant called KOTO, which is a training ground for street kids to gain experience and credibility so they can start new lives for themselves.  (There are actually a good number of similar outfits throughout Vietnam — at least 2 similar restaurants in Saigon, and lots of crafts workshops all over the place.)  The food was good, but I’m pretty sure the pork dish I ate had something to do with another day of intestinal angst.

Lunch over, we went across the street to the Temple of Literature, a thousand-year-old complex of grassy courtyards and temples/pagodas that was originally dedicated to Confucius and honors “men of literary accomplishment.”  Here’s one of the gate entrances to a courtyard:

We decided to treat ourselves to massages after having so much unbroken sightseeing.  We took motos to get to the hotel:

Lonely Planet mentioned that massage parlors in Hanoi had been severely limited over concern of naughty “extra services” being performed.  LP said that the place we were going was a great place to get a legitimate massage at the going rate of $7/hour.  Turns out they were wrong.  The massages cost $6/hour, were mediocre at best, and were in fact quite friendly, with plenty of “extra services” being offered.  Obviously, these services were refused, but it was still a bit unsettling.

We walked back to our guest house after this, walking by the main lake in the center of town:

And by a temple in the middle of the lake:

That night, we took a “get out of Asia free” card and went to see MI:III (pro “miih,” for anyone who watches The Colbert Report).  I don’t know if it was a manifestation of homesickness for the US, some latent Tom Cruise idolatry, or the ferocious air conditioning and real-sugar Coca-Cola, but we both thought it was really quite good.  Afterwards, we had dinner at the Opera Club, and hit the sack.

The next morning, we got up bright and early to start our Halong Bay tour.  The Bay is about 3 hours outside Hanoi, and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (though its recent over-development of tourism venues probably means it will not receive the designation again this year when UNESCO returns).  It’s just a beautiful place, with limestone islands jutting out of the water, many of which are speckled with caves, etc.  We originally added this to our itinerary on Alexandra’s recommendation, but subsequently heard from many others that this was a most excellent thing to do.  We agree.  It was definitely nice to get away from seeing temples and museums and to have a chance to relax, read, swim, and meet new people.

We had a good group, too.  We met 2 just-minted MBAs from Ross (Michigan) B-School, another top-10 program, one of whom was a summer associate at McKinsey last summer and knew a lot of people I knew, but who is heading to BCG in the fall.  There was a Dutch couple who taught us a strange card game at which I ended up being really good (or lucky).  There were a couple Aussies, some Quebecois, etc.  All were very nice.  It was fun to get to know them over drinks and to hear about the various places they’ve been.  I had macho-type fun with the Dutch guy (Birdman), the Aussie (Jason), the MBA (hm, don’t remember his name) daring each other to do flips and dives from high up on the boat. 

Here’s our boat from the outside:

Inside:

Cool shots of boats we passed:

Pagoda on top of one of the islands:

Beautiful!

Simon the freelance photographer:

We first stopped at one of the biggest caves in the bay, complete with artificial lighting for the tourists:

A view of the water from the cave:

Me doing a front flip from up high (nobody else attempted this — what a stud I am!):

Me doing a back flip:

Not Simon or I doing a jump, but it was a cool photo:

Sunset:

Back in Hanoi, we went to our hostel, which told us that our rooms were not ready and to come back in 2 hours (7:30 p.m.).  So went to get Bia Hoi, which translates to “fresh beer,” at a local hang out and met a cool 22-yr-old Vietnamese guy who’s studying economics.  He’d been studying English for only 6 months, but speaks about as well as I speak Spanish.  Amazing. We got a decent dinner after that, then returned to our hostel, at about 9 p.m., and our rooms still weren’t ready.  A bit peeved, we returned to our Bia Hoi place to get a few more brews.  The real attraction of the beer is its taste — wait, I mean the price.  $0.125 per 8oz glass.  After four hours of drinks, our bill was $1.13.  It also appeared to be a good place to meet people, and meet people we did — a group of 13 Canadian juniors/seniors in college who were doing a trimester abroad in SE Asia.  We hung out and talked with them till the “fun police” came to shut everything down a little after midnight, then we headed back to our hostel, which had its gates closed and locked.  After banging for a while, they let us it.  Fortunately, our room was ready.

Also, the Canadians happened to be from Vancouver, where I’ll be in early August.  They gave me the beta on what to do, and one of them told me the Starbucks store she works at; she promised to make me some kind of valencia orange java mochmachino (Zoolander reference, I think; “mochmachino” isn’t a typo, I don’t think) if I came to visit.

Oh, and before I forget, I just need to mention that crossing the street in Hanoi is like Frogger.  Go slowly, watch for oncoming bikes, step forward and back, and eventually you’ll either be hit or you’ll end up on the other side.  Here’s Simon playing the game, crossing from the Hanoi lake to the water puppet theater:

Which is remarkably similar to the layout of the highway in the real game:

-mike

 

same, same, but different

“There’s an old saying in America — I know it’s in Southeast Asia, probably in America— that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.”
 
The thing that really got us in trouble in Bangkok was that we were actually thinking about buying suits. Before leaving the States several people had told us about a town in Vietnam called Hoi An. Just south of Denang in central Vietnam, Hoi An is renown for being a beautiful old town (left un-scarred by the wars) and a mecca for cheap, high quality tailor shops. So, as I said, having heard about Hoi An we came to Asia planning to get a couple of suits made in Hoi An. As it turns out, our various “friends” in Bangkok convinced us that it was a much better place to get suits made and (as those of you following along at home know) we fell for it. By the time we arrived in Hoi An my suits had arrived at my parents house in the States. Initial verdict – the two suits are wearable, the tux a complete write-off. Surveying the scene in Hoi An we were sceptical, but open to the possibility that there could be a chance to, at a reasonable price, replace the tux and maybe even pick up another item or two at a bargain price. Then we started looking around and were rapidly reminded of the above paraphrased words of our fearless leader. To be fair to the tailors of Hoi An, they seemed to be on par with, if not slightly above, what we had seen in Bangkok… but it just wasn’t quite what we were used to. Maybe this makes us picky, maybe it makes us snobs… but whatever the case, we came to the conclusion that if you really want a good quality suit made, it is going to have to involve an old Italian man running his hand up your inseam.
 
Throughout our trip to Southeast Asia we have been repeatedly confronted by the phrase “same, same.” This is the calling card of the masses of vendors on the street selling knock-off merchandise. Our first real experience with this was in Bangkok where we joined in buying a couple of pairs of “puma” shoes. The second we put on the shoes, we realized the meaning of the second part of the phrase “but different.” While the shoes looked the same, it took one step to convince you that the soles/padding weren’t quite the same, nor the rest of the construction. And so this idea of “same, same, but different” characterizes so much of the junk that is peddled to tourists across SE Asia (to the point that it is emblazoned on a t-shirt that at least 1/3 of the tourists seem to buy), including it would seem the custom made suits. (One other application of the “same same, but different” concept we saw was in reference to me and Mike. Almost half of the local people we spoke with were convinced that Mike and I were brothers. On several occasions when we assured them we weren’t, they looked back and forth between us, laughed, and called out “same same, but different.”)

Same, same, but better?…the travel agent? me? who knows:

 
Beyond the omnipresent (and largely indistinguishable) tailor shops, Hoi An is a delightful town.

Indistinguishable tailor shops:

Situated along the Thu Bon river, the town has a great waterfront with restaurants, cafes, and craft shops. Behind the waterfront there are a couple of streets with more cafes, shops (including tailors of course) and assorted historical buildings, meeting halls, and temples. While we were somewhat underwhelmed by the “historical sites” we had a great two days wandering around the town and the nearby beach.

Hoi An sunset:

Hoi An street (as seen from the highly-recommended but less-than-exciting ceramics museum):

Heading to the beach:

Sunset beach walking:

One of the highlights of our stay was dinner at “Cafe des Amis.” The restaurant on the riverside doesn’t have a menu, but rather Mr. Kim (the proprietor) prepares whatever strikes his fancy on any given day. In addition to the high quality of his cooking, his enthusiasm for his establishment was great. He proudly told us that Michael Cain had eaten there 10 days in a row while filming “The Quite American.”

Lonely Planet effect (left recommended in Lonely Planet, right two restaurants not recommended and have only their owners sitting out front):

 
As we moved from Hoi An to Hue (the ancient capital of Vietnam) we went from the color of Mr. Kim’s establishment to an equally energetic locale in the form of “Cafe on Thu Wheels.” Madame Thu (the proprietor) bounced around the cafe, teasing customers (for example Mike’s lack of girlfriend being due to his “broken banana”), and generally trying to keep herself and the assembled masses amused. Outside of Thu’s cafe we spent some time wandered over to the Citadel which housed the remnants of the ancient palaces (as with so many other things in Vietnam, the complex had been devastated by the various wars in the last century … mostly the French in this instance). Despite the destruction which resulted in a few too many descriptions reading “this is where X, Y, Z building used to stand,” the Citadel complex was quite impressive and made for a good afternoon of wandering around. For those of you who remember all the way back to the KL post, we added to our collection of “tallest flagpoles” seeing Vietnam’s tallest which stands next to the Citadel.

Vietnam’s tallest flagpole:

 
Parfume river in Hue:

At the citadel in Hue:

While neither fun filled nor action packed, our couple of days in Hoi An and Hue were rather enjoyable and quite relaxing. It was a good change from the bustle of HCMC and a great chance to see a little bit of the quieter life in Vietnam. A quieter life that I’m sure will disappear once we arrive in Hanoi.
 
-sjp

 

Ho Chi Minh City

Heading out into HCMC to explore for the first time, we were a little wary. Lonely Planet has several pages devoted to explaining the scams, dangers, and annoyances that one encounters in Vietnam, principally in HCMC. We left our good cameras and sunglasses at the hostel, since the moto bandits in the city are apparently world-renowned. Plus, the traffic is asolutely crazy, so we didn’t want anything to break (besides our bones) if a moto driver confronted us at high speeds while we were trying to cross the street. Here’s one of only a few intersections where the motos line up at a stop light — most of the time, there are no traffic signals!:

Our first stop was the War Remnants Museum, formerly called “The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government.”

It’s the most popular attraction in HCMC, drawing hundreds of thousands of tourists a year. It’s a little disconcerting to hear the Vietnam War called the American War the first few times and to hear about the medals awarded for killing Americans (the “American Killer Hero Award), but it certainly provides a different perspective. The most impactful section for me was the gallery of war photographs taken primarily by western photographers. They document in graphic detail the atrocity that is war, focusing mostly on the “Northern Liberation Front” Army as the heroes and the Americans as perpetrators of heinous war crimes.

This site has a good sample of the photos we saw. Some of the images (and worse) of the victims of Agent Orange were so graphic, I couldn’t look for longer than it took to recognize what it was I was viewing.

Although I don’t want to make this into a political statement, there was one comment in the guest book that stood out: “Great museum! You should use this as the blueprint for the one that gets built in Baghdad.” In terms of the horrors committed by both sides in an armed conflict, there are clear parallels between Vietnam and Iraq — or indeed, any war. I’ll leave it to you to decide if there are or are not others. SJP and I had some good debates about it.

That night, we had a good dinner while we watched the squid carts go by:

The next day, we took a day trip to the Cu Chi Tunnels, a 75-mile long network of underground passageways 40 km from Saigon and extremely close to an American Air Force Base, in which the Viet Cong could hide and from which they could attack “secure” American positions.

Before we got there, though, we stopped by the main temple of the Cao Dai religion. We drove about 2 hours out of our way to get there, stayed for an hour to witness a mass that was kind of interesting (mostly it just involved people chanting), and left. The religion was officially established in 1926, and the temple, after having been destroyed during the “American War” was rebuilt in the 70′s/80′s. I don’t mean to be offensive, but this is my cynical take on the religion: “I know! Let’s combine Confucianism and Taoism, which are different but perhaps not incompatible, with Hinduism and Buddhism, the latter being a reaction to the former, bake at 350 for 30 minutes, frost with Catholicism, and sprinkle on Victor Hugo as a patron saint for good measure!” You can imagine that neither Simon nor I was terribly impressed. Here’s a picture of the temple anyway:

OK, so then we got to Cu Chi. First stop was a documentary of the NLF fighters getting awards for blowing up American tanks and setting up booby traps. Then our guide showed us a fox hole, and hopped in. It was smaller in width than my hips. That little lump in front is a disguised airhole:

Then we got a demonstration of all the different types of booby traps that were used. Here’s our guide showing us a sort of trap door on steroids:

Next we got an opportunity to fire guns for about $1.60 per bullet. We both chose an M16.

Here’s Simon missing the target, because his right eye can’t focus and it’s impossible to target using your left eye when you’re a righty:

Here’s me missiong the target, with no good excuse (though I might be more disturbed if I turned out to be a good shot…):

By the way, these guns are LOUD. The ear muffs they gave us were worthless, especially with the guy shooting a machine gun 10 ft away. Oh well, the permanent hearing loss was worth it…

After the target shooting raised our testosterone levels, we headed into the tunnels themselves. The first 20m section is enlarged for tourists, the second 20m is slighty smaller, and the final 30m is original VC size. Simon bowed out after the first 20m, while I stuck it out through the whole thing. There was only one spot where I had to get on toes and elbows, while the 3 girls that also came appeared to be able to do the squat-and-shuffle throughout. It was a bit claustrophibic, but mostly it was very hot. More than 100m, and I’d be cooked. Especially if I’d been carrying guns and supplies.

Here’s a photo from inside the actual-size part of the tunnel:

Here’s me emerging from the end of the section:

All in all, the tunnels and surrounding environs were quite impressive. The foxholes, the booby traps, the smokeless kitchens, etc., helped make the things that our troops faced really come to life. Politics aside, I can’t even begin to imagine what it was really like to be there. It’s especially weird to hear the Cu Chi positions and offenses/defenses spoken of with such reverence.

When our guide asked us where we’re from, we said, “America.” (Most people recognize “America” faster than “United States” or “USA,” so apologies to Canada and Central and South America for the shorthand.) Our guide immediately responded by saying, “Sorry,” which was funny, then saying that he hoped that all this was in the past and that we would continue to be friends in the future. We assured him that we agreed.

Together, the Cu Chi Tunnels and the War Remanants Museum were very powerful sights, especially having come from the Killing Fields of Cambodia. I think the Vietnamese miss a real opportunity to make a strong statement about both the Vietnam/American War and war in general by being so one-sided about the conflict, however. They walk the Party line too strongly, and miss the balance that’s required to create a real dialogue/debate.

Anyway.

After returning to HCMC, we got in touch with one of Simon’s colleague’s father’s and had dinner with him. SJP’s colleague, Anne, with whom he worked at one of his more fun projects, said that we should meet up with her father, who would be visiting Vietnam while we were there. He took us to a traditional Vietnamese restaurant (as indicated by the almost complete lack of westerners anywhere), where we had a dinner that definitely ranks in our top 2 for the trip.

Anne’s dad was awesome. Very funny, enthusiastic, and generally fun to talk to. (He told us that Anne gets mad at him for changing subjects so quickly, but he said that now that he’s retired, his goal is not to be focused. We think that’s a good thing.) He’s an MD, and is in Vietnam right now volunteering, offering his expertise in autism, as well as in telling hapless young Americans what to eat and visit.

Our dinner consisted of 6 courses and drinks, all for less than $15. He told us how to roll our rice paper and ensured that we put enough fish sauce on everything. He forced us to not let any food go to waste, then plied us with delicious desserts, all while regaling us with stories of his life before and after Vietnam, including some very proud stories of his children, especially of the amazing-at-cooking, best-french-speaking, going-to-Wharton daugher, Anne.

It was a great dinner, especially when he scolded me for running across the street (“they’ll hit you!”), and for holding on to Simon’s arm to make sure he wouldn’t run and get hit.

After that, we headed to a nearby bar where we met up with a guy named Chris, who is a friend of a friend of mine from high school (Nikki, for anyone who might happen to be reading that knows anything about this era of my life). We met him at an Irish pub/expat hangout (“O’Briens”), along with 5 of his friends from the Mekong Delta area. We headed over to one of the more happening places in HCMC where all the pretty people go, Q Bar, which turned out not to be so happening, so Chris hit on the Smirnoff girl and we called it a night.

Next day, we headed off to Hoi An…

-mike

 

Serves us right!

Lonely Planet doesn’t always know what’s best. Traveling from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City by boat is not, contrary to LP’s advice, a good idea.

Would you rather…
…take a four hour bus direct from PP to HCMC?; or,
…take a four hour boat ride on incredibly choppy waters through a rainstorm during the one time of the year that the river’s current is actually flowing backwards towards its source and then get on a minibus that is hotter and more packed than any other bus you’ve ever been on so that you can’t even sit straight because the width of the four shoulders in the back row is wider than the bus itself, all while there’s luggage under your feet so you can’t put your feet down and you’re traveling over roads that are even bumpier than those of Northern Lao for 6 hours without having had a chance to get more food or water between the boat and bus ride?

Tough one!

Once in HCMC, we at least had made friends with 2 Canadians and a Vietnamese local who pointed us in the right direction (free shuttle, rather than expensive taxi). It cost about $4 to get door-to-door service, but with the tales of moto-thieves pulling bags from your shoulders as you walk, we decided to splurge. When Simon and I had to push him down the road to get his van jumped, we wanted to see if we could get a rebate… We fortunately found a nice hostel with air con, private bath, and 2 beds for $10 at 11pm, and settled in for our first good night of sleep since arriving in Angkor, when we consistently got up between 4 and 6 a.m.

Now, off to explore Ho Chi Minh!

-mike

 

Cambodia’s darker moments

Fully recharged by the awesome Angkor temples and a few afternoons by the pool, the Ramblingmen +1 headed to Phnom Penh.

After our bus rides in Lao, the ride was an absolute delight. Our “VIP bus” was a coach with individual seats, which all had plenty of padding, leg room, and even reclined a little bit. In this luxury the 4.5 hours passed in no time at all.

We arrived in Phnom Penh a little on edge, having heard horror stories from the cities virtual lawlessness for the past few decades (a book Mike read described it as a city dominated by cheap guns, cheap drugs, and cheap women). As we stepped off the bus we were immediately confronted with an absolute onslaught of tuk-tuk drivers offering their services. They were by far the most aggressive group we had encountered to date. Mike, taking charge, pointed to one and we were on our way.

Our driver asked us how long we were in town (24 hours) and then proceeded to dictate our itinerary to us (for which he would be our driver). While perhaps a bit more forward than we generally like first dates to be… his plan sounded like a good one so we agreed.

In the afternoon he took us to the Royal Palace, which was not too far from our hotel. An impressive structure, reminiscent of the palace in Bangkok, we wandered around for a while and then it was on to dinner. The highlight of dinner was when all of a sudden all the lights surged and went out! A loud cheer went up from the assembled diners and assorted others…apparently this is not an all together uncommon phonomenon in Phnom Penh.

Having marveled at the splendor of Cambodia/Khmer’s early history while in Angkor, we spent the next morning being absolutely horrified and overwhelmed by its more recent history.

For a while late last year I was hanging out with a Cambodian-American, she had told me bits and pieces about her parents fleeing Cambodia for Arizona. One of the most striking thing about her stories was the fact that as hard as she was trying to convince her mother to come back on a trip, her mother absolutely refused. At the time I had some sense (based on my superficial knowledge of what had happened) of why she might not want to come back, but having seen what we saw that morning I have a much better understanding of how it could be almost unthinkable for someone to come back after going through such horror.

Our day began at Tuol Sleng, the primary prison and interrogation center of S-21 (Khmer Rouge security service). There were several variations on the translation of Tuol Sleng, but a generally accepted one was “the poison hill.” The building started its life as a high school, but was converted by the Khmer Rouge into a symbol of terror and unthinkable cruelty. Classrooms were retrofitted into prison cells and play ground equipment modified into torture devices.

One of the most striking elements was the exhibit of photographs and biographies of the inmates. While our understanding of the complexities of the conflict was somewhat limited, we were struck by the fact that the victims ranged from clear enemies of the regime, to peasants, to intellectuals, to members of the regime itself. The only pattern that emerged from the mix of victims was that no one was safe from the whims and wrath of those in control.

From the prison we took a 30 minute ride out to Choeung Ek, one of the primary and most infamous Killing Fields. The mass graves were mostly excavated in the early 1980′s shortly after the overthrow of the Khmer Rouge regime. The current Choeung Ek site, is dominated by a Buddhist memorial for the victims. Towering about 100ft above the site the stupa is filled with the skulls of victims that were uncovered during the excavation. While Buddhist belief dictates that the soul is seperated from the body at death, the memorial was built with room on each level for air to circulate in case the souls had been trapped since they were denied proper funerals. The memorial is at the same time impressive, horrific, and slightly overwhelming.

Choeung Ek Memorial (with the site of a mass grave that contained the remains of 400 people under the covered structure in the foreground):

Interior of memorial, one of many “shelves”:

The ghastly nature of the memorial is reinforced by the excavated grave sites which surround it. The rectangular pits have since grown over with grass, but the signs next to them detailing the number of bodies found within ensures their horror is fully appreciated.

This morning was by far the most difficult we have had on the trip. While a lot of SE Asian history (as with most other places) was shaped by conflict, the proximity in time and sheer scale of the Khmer Rouge atrocities made this an all together nauseating experience.

-sjp

 

Angkor What? (apologies to the bar of the same name)

As I’m sure everyone would agree, this blog and our travellers were in desperate need of a female perspective…or at least one that they wouldn’t have to pay for. Luckily, I made it just in time and have been given the incredible honor of contributing as an honorary “rambling (wo)man”. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Simon’s sister and just happened to be in Hong Kong working during his prolonged South East Asian jaunt. Being the wonderful brother that he is, he was nice enough to invite me to join them for a leg of the trip. I only hope I can live up to the incredible standards Simon and Mike have set so far…

My journey began with a rather pleasant Cathay flight to Bangkok, followed by a not-quite-so-pleasant Bangkok Airways flight to Siem Reap on a cramped turbo-prop plane that I am convinced was older than I am. Seven hours after officially starting my vacation, I was deposited in Cambodia thankful to be alive and with my first mosquito bite. Less than two hours later the rambling men, themselves, arrived at our hotel and were warmly welcomed by ginger (pink) cocktails, assorted fruits and fish paste delicacies in their upgraded suite, and, of course, me. After a tearful reunion between Simon and me (just kidding – think of me as Simon but just a tiny bit friendlier…), we all had a quick dinner in the hotel before calling it an early night.

The next morning we piled into a tuk tuk (my first tuk tuk ride!!) at a leisurely 10am and headed into town to do some laundry, get money, and find Mike a Vietnam visa. [As a side note, apparently I was gravely mistaken in thinking that the $1 per shirt at the hotel was a reasonable price for laundry as the boys succeeded in negotiating $1.50/kilo downtown!] We accomplished our 3 tasks relatively easily and to our delight the ATMs spit out brand new US$!! (the preferred form of currency in Cambodia).

Simon and Mike had learned from one of Simon’s future HBS classmates that it was possible to buy cheap copies of guidebooks to Angkor Wat throughout Siem Reap (“bad for copyright; good for Cambodia”) so when the first eager salesperson approached us we questioned her about guides to the temples. She immediately directed us to an ATM and travel agent for the visa before running off to get the books that we were looking for. The price was $20 for 2 books and seemingly a good deal considering the combined publisher’s cost was well over $100. However, being the seasoned, cynical travelers that we are (re-read the Bangkok posts) we began our negotiations. When we reached a stalemate of $17 for the two books (we wanted $15), the girl suddenly had the “brilliant” idea of playing tic-tac-toe for the additional money. If Mike won, she would give us the 2 books for $15; if she won, we would pay $16.

While Simon and I almost immediately wrote off the money, Mike surprised us all by actually managing to win the third game after 2 draws!! Ecstatic about our victory, we started digging out our money, but here is where the story gets interesting. Somehow, and I have no idea why (I think it had something to do with Simon wanting photographic evidence of the negotiations), Mike started playing a 4th game. To make a long story short, the game ended in a tie, Simon got his picture, and I ended up paying $16 for the two books. Regardless, we all walked away incredibly impressed by the girl’s negotiating skills and just a little bit impressed by Mike’s tic-tac-toe skills. Who actually wins tic-tac-toe?

Mike Negotiating:

To answer my question (and I should note that we didn’t discover this until sometime later), the only people who win at tic-tac-toe are little children who haven’t quite grasped the concept of the game and ivy league grads being scammed by 13 year olds with little formal education. It turns out that the girl suggested the game as a way of confirming a deal would take place. Knowing that she could not win herself, she had actually let Mike win the 3^rd game in the hopes that by making him feel good about himself, she would walk away with the extra dollar anyway. To further impress upon you the skill with which our little teacher operated, we should also note that these exact same books were being sold for $4-5 at the temples so she had a guaranteed (big) profit either way.

Regardless, it was great entertainment for Simon and me (and now you); not so good, perhaps, for Mike’s ego…

That afternoon after a great lunch of Loc Lac and Amok, both Cambodian specialties, and a quick visit to the pool — after all I only had 6 days to become incredibly tan and well-rested — we decided to venture out to the temples.

Siem Reap is a city geared almost entirely towards supporting the 700-1000 year old Khmer temples known collectively as Angkor within its vicinity. During the 9^th-13^th
centuries, the Cambodian Empire occupied a territory stretching from modern day Burma (Myanmar) to Vietnam. Angkor as the capital had over 1 million inhabitants (20 times that of London at the time). Due to the size of the empire and the span of time Angkor was at the center, the temples reflect many competing cultural and religious influences. It was not unusual for the temples to actually be adapted for use as different religions took dominance; statues would be replaced and in some cases, carvings would be modified to represent incoming religions. A UNESCO world heritage site, Angkor has been described as “the perfect fusion of creative ambition and spiritual devotion,” and one certainly still feels a sense of significance to these creations centuries after they were deserted.

We followed the advice of the many tour books and our devoted tuk tuk driver and headed to Phnom Bakheng. Built during the 9th century and situated on top of a hill, it was rumored to offer the most spectacular sunset views of Angkor Wat (perhaps the most familiar of the temples within the area, not to mention the largest religious building in the world). Dedicated to Vishnu, Angkor Wat was built as miniature of the Hindu universe complete with Mount Miru, the home of the Gods, represented by towers in the center surrounded by concentric galleries representing mountain ranges, surrounded by a moat representing the oceans. Phnom Bahkeng is one of the few vantages where you can get an aerial view of the complex (save the brand new attraction of a hot air balloon that rises every 20 minutes above Angkor) and thus experience the complete effect. While the sunset itself proved to be rather disappointing (rainy season haze), the climb to the top of the hill surrounded by other tourists, monks and elephants before settling in with our cameras and cold beers at the top proved to be the perfect welcome into the world of Angkor.

We finished off our first full Cambodian day with dinner in town before picking up our laundry and heading off to bed.

The next morning we were out the door of the hotel at 5:15am in order to experience another “must-do” Angkor experience – sunrise at Angkor Wat. Having learned little from our previous evening’s sunset experience, we were disappointed to discover that 1) the sun starts rising in Cambodia before 5am and 2) the same haze that ruined our spectacular sunset the night before was having its way with our sunrise. We did, however, learn a very important lesson about visiting packed tourist destinations — if you do exactly the opposite of what the guidebooks and tuk tuk drivers tell you to do, you can actually find yourself alone and undisturbed in some of the most amazing places

Being the incredibly intelligent people that we are, we quickly made the call to throw in the towel on the sunrise and actually headed into Angkor Wat temple itself. Sure enough, the masses of tour groups stayed outside and we found ourselves almost alone inside a 1000 year old temple, free to poke around and explore at will, including climbing up the steps to the top of “Mount Meru” or the inner tower.

It is hard to know where to begin when entering these temples as there is symbolism in everything from form to orientation to the intricate carvings and sculptures found everywhere. We decided to leave our first impressions as more general ones at Angkor, and after vowing to return during an afternoon (better light) we began our extremely timid descent off “Mount Meru”. One of the quirks found on all Angkor temples is that the steps are always very steep and very tiny. Either the Khmer had incredibly small feet or this was a very clever way of dissuading curious peasants from venturing up to the often private temples of the kings and high priests.

At 7am we found ourselves done with our first temple of the day and enjoying a breakfast of iced coffee and banana pancakes with honey. Being the only tourists sitting around, we also soon attracted the attention of the masses of children who wait at each temple selling everything from bottled water and food to guidebooks, krama (traditional headscarfs used for everything from keeping dust off to carrying babies), useless and trinkets and bracelets. During one particularly entertaining lunch break, we were even offered (jokingly of course) a baby for $1! Both Mike and Simon succumbed fairly early on to making small purchases – postcards and bracelets. My downfall would come later in the day when I was cornered by three children at the top of a temple and my resolve went spiraling downhill from there.

I do want to note as an aside that there were several instances when this obsessive capitalism was put aside in the interest of being merely hospitable. For example, during breakfast at a small food stall one morning, Mike somehow managed to slice his finger with a bread knife. Putting aside the question of how this happens (he claims something about a shoulder injury??), the family who ran the restaurant immediately sprung into action getting him napkins and then producing band-aids. Money was never discussed even though they could probably have held him to a pretty steep price as he sat bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

The overwhelming message was that while most of the people we ran into were trying to get as much money out of us as possible, the motivator for the vast majority was simply survival. The culture of begging and borderline extortion must be put into the perspective of Cambodia’s modern history (see next post) which was made even more evident by the sheer number of landmine victims we encountered every day.

Some of the the better sales pitches we got:

“Sir, you buy a star for your girlfriend?” addressed to Simon.
“My girlfriend doesn’t want a star” replied Simon.
“Why not? I a girl. I want star.”

(Simon did not end up buying a star)

———

One small girl, no more than 4-5 years old would approach tourists selling postcards
and proceeded to count to 10 while flipping through the cards in English, French, Spanish, German & Kmher. It was impossible not to be impressed!

———

“Lady, you buy a scarf from me?” addressed to me by one girl approx. 10-11 yrs.
“No thank you. I don’t want a scarf” I replied.
“Lady, what is your name?”
“Jennifer”
“Jennifer, I remember you. If you buy a scarf, you buy from me. I remember you”

(repeat conversation 4-5 times walking into a temple; 30-45 minutes elapse)

“Lady, Jennifer, Lady I remember you!! You buy from me. I remember you!!”
chorused by 10-15 girls as we walk out from the temple to the car.

(Pls see picture below for results of this conversation. On a completely unrelated
note, I happen to have 7 absolutely lovely Krama scarfs if anyone is interested…)

 

To try to sum up the experience in a couple of paragraphs could never do Angkor justice, but I have included some quick impressions and pictures of my two favorites below.

Ta Prohm – yes, its the temple from Tomb Raider; but more importantly, its one of the most beautiful and, dare I say it, most spiritual places I have ever been. Submerged deep within a forest, the trees become part of the ruins while the ruins seem to be growing with the trees. Walking around the temple, especially if you are lucky enough to find yourself alone as we did, you start to imagine life as it must have been and almost expect the ruins and trees to suddenly morph into a living and breathing city carrying on life around you.

Bayon –Built with hundreds of faces, this temple rivals Angkor Wat both in magnitude and as a prime sunset location. Seen in the afternoon sun, the shadows and light surrounding this temple quickly became a photographer’s dream.

By the end of our third day of temples, our world had become filled with Apsaras (celestial dancers to the Gods), Naga (5 headed serpants connected with fertililty and creation), Guardian Lions, and all manners of Gods and Warrior Kings. Again, I cannot begin to do justice to everything we saw in the space of this blog; all I can say is that if you ever have the opportunity to visit Angkor, do not pass it up!!

Highlights:

We also, of course managed to mix in some non-temple entertainment, giving me the chance to be the “bad influence” that younger siblings are supposed to be. Our days usually included at least an hour or two by the pool during the oppressive midday heat. Our evenings were spent eating and drinking at the many restaurants on “bar street” (did I mention that Siem Reap is set up to cater to tourists?), playing atrocious games of pool, and occasionally finding ourselves in real bars (one set up with beds! very trendy for northern Cambodia…). I must also admit that both Mike and Simon received far more attention than me — Mike from our very friendly, but slightly over-informative waiter at dinner one night (and no, the use of the word waiter is not some feminist objection to the word waitress…but you’re going to have to use your imaginations on this one as there are certain subjects I will not elaborate on while my parents are reading…); and Simon from an equally friendly and extremely intoxicated college professor who was in the midst of some sort of sabbatical involving somewhat questionable bars in Southeast Asia. All in all, I think we can be proud of both of them and I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised when we found ourselves at Siem Reap’s only gay bar the next night…

For those of you keeping score of how many World Cup games Simon and Mike actually managed to watch, the afore-mentioned evening also happened to be the France-Italy World Cup Finals (Mike’s waiter had a French flag painted on his cheek which made everything just that little bit worse…). While we did our best to stay up until 3 to watch the entire game, a combination of previous early mornings and the knowledge that our alarms were set to go off at 4:30 for attmept #2 at catching the sunrise, caused all of us to miss the now infamous Zidane penalty. I believe that Simon and Mike did manage to rally to watch the end of the game, but then again that could have been all talk as I had given up over an hour earlier.

Tuesday, we were up at the crack of dawn for the 4th morning in a row, and after buying some fresh baguettes and packaged spreadable cheese (very popular in Asia) we boarded our “luxury bus” and were on our way to Phnom Penh.

-Jen

 

What is Lao culture?

It’s rare that I find myself in a country where I grapple to define — or at least loosely describe — the people and places about which I’m learning. Usually, a country’s culture reveals itself after enough time immersed in it. While I wouldn’t want to have to accurately and comprehensively describe American or Argentinian culture (à la high a school social studies paper), I’m pretty sure I could come up with something broad to say in little time. Not so with Lao. (The official name of the country is Lao People’s Democratic Republic, or Lao PDR; it was the French that added the “s” to the name. Thus, I will attempt to never call it that again.) As Simon and I traveled the cities and countryside, I found I had a hard time figuring out what it meant to be Lao.

For millennia, Lao has been been under the almost constant influence of external powers. It has been dominated either militarily or ideologically (or both) by India/Indonesia, Thailand/Siam, China, Mongolia, Khmer/Angkor/Cambodia, Japan, and France. It has never been home to the capital city of any empire; instead, it seems to have served more as an outpost or buffer zone throughout its history.

Hinduism first made some inroads in the country a thousand years ago, but Buddhism had more success, sometime around the 16th and 17th centuries primarily in southern Lao.  As the importance of Buddhism grew, it still wasn’t until a century or two after its emergence that the best-known temples were built. (Spirit worship still dominates most of northern Lao, where temples are few and far between.)

I generally use a people’s creative works as a proxy to help me learn about their culture. This was hard in Lao. With no strong historical center of power, even the most majestic Lao temples are nothing compared to those at Angkor or the old European cathedrals. In Lao, they seem new — all that we saw were built after 1800, and most around 1900 — largely unadorned, and generally pretty unimpressive. This seems consistent with the fact that the people’s energy has had to be focused on growing its food and not on carving intricate apsaras; without a “great ruler” to redirect labor to these efforts, such works never manifested themselves. So, unlike in Angkor, Paris, or Athens there are no buildings that have become a source of national pride or prestige.

The one possible exception is the Royal Palace in Luang Prabang, which is also the country’s national museum. The palace was home to the line of kings that helped lead Lao to its ultimate independence — in the 1950′s. This is obviously very significant for the Lao people, but it gives very little insight to the Lao culture, since the palace is decorated with Life magazines from the 1940′s and ’50′s as well as other Western artifacts.

(Some would argue that Buddhism doesn’t teach extravagance, and in fact, runs contrary to the values of aseticism and delayed gratification. This may be true, but tell that to the Thais or Khmers who built some pretty impressive stuff.)

It’s hard to get much of a sense of the people from the other things they produce. Lao is an agragrian civilization with the majority of its people dedicated to subsistence farming (predominantly rice, but other crops as well). With families still barely squeaking by on their rice paddies and chicken coops, there is not much time for art or other pursuits.

Indeed, Lao exports almost none of its agricultural output (though investment from China is starting to change that). It is beginning to be recognized for its coffee, and it won’t be long before China taps its largely unexploited natural resources. Lao’s fastest-growing industry, however, is tourism, which only serves to complicate my ability to discern anything about their culture. When almost all our interactions with Lao people consisted in them trying to sell us tours or fine silks that they would never keep for themselves, it was hard to get a sense of what the people really do or think about in the time between planting rice and harvesting it.

We learned a lot from our guide on the 3-day trek around Luang Nam Tha that helped illuminate things. Families are very important in Lao, which makes sense given the need to utilize all available hands to get rice on the table. This is a challenge for many Lao families today as they move into a world with more opportunities. Some families keep their children at home because they need help, some parents work extra-hard to allow their children to stay in school. For Buddhists, families still send their young boys to wear the orange robes of the novices for about a year as they study to become monks. Our guide was not a Buddhist, but he told us about his beliefs, and on a basic level, it’s not so dissimilar from the Christian conception of heaven and hell.  (For them, if you’ve been good, you go into the sky; if you’re bad, you go into the ground where there’s fire.)

We also learned about how tough it is to make enough money to buy what you can’t grow. For the farmers of the tribes we visited, they can sell a metric ton of rice to China for $200. If each rice seed will grow to contain an average of 8 grains apiece, and each grain weighs about 25mg, that’s about 5,000 rice seeds required to grow a metric ton. (Imagine the people-power required to poke a hole in the ground and then plant a rice seed 20,000 times.) In the most efficient paddies in Lao, they can grow at most about 4 metric tons of rice per hectare, or per ~2.5 acres. (The US, the most efficient rice grower in the world, can grow between 5-9 tons per hectare).  In the mountains, where the hill tribes are forced to grow much of their rice, they can get about 10% of that yield. In short, they have to work really, really hard to make any money off rice — especially because they need most of it for their own consumption. They get something like $.20 for a dozen pineapples, and one particular crop, which is used for cooking and for making into wooden baskets/chairs, etc., requires an individual to sell 40 plants just to recover the cost of getting to and from the market.  One man we met can make a basket that he sells for $.30 in two days. You can see why the Lao people get very enthusiastic about selling cheap bracelets for tourists for $.50 — they make more money in 5 minutes than they can hope to make in a week.

The majority of Lao people live in tiny wooden shacks on stilts (so they can keep their chickens, firewood, and motos dry underneath), they keep their families close, they work hard in the fields most of the day, and they try to do something in addition that appeals to either tourists or Chinese agro-business. They eat good food, but it is usually combinations of rice, pork, chicken, eggplant, lemongrass, bamboo shoots, various greens, and spices (mint, basil, dill, garlic, cilantro, tamarind, ginger, and hot pepper) — all fried up and mixed together. (Western and Thai food pervades all menus, so it wasn’t till the trek that I figured out what Lao food was, exactly.)

In the end, I’m still not sure what to make of Lao culture. About all I can tell is that things are going to start changing fast here. Roads are being paved through villages, the Lao government is declaring national parks and moving indigenous peoples out of them, China is beginning to invest heavily, and more and more tourists are coming. Right now, they live very simple, uncomplicated, and hard lives, with very few possessions that they don’t use regularly. They are a friendly, curious people, and many are very enterprising. In 20 years, who knows what things will look like.

-mike

P.S. Apologies for the long, picture-less post!