Different tribes meet

 Wednesday November 8th

First and only full day of a “2 night 3 day” cruise on Stellar of the seas. They pack a lot into a short period of time. There isn’t a lot of down time. My butt is a little chapped from all the ass kissing. Some I feel is genuine and some I feel is the product. One thing for sure, Vietnam hospitality services live and (I assume) die, by online ratings. Today was the second time that I have been asked to be sure to leave a review on booking.com or TripAdvisor and mention them by name. Once in Hanoi and today on a beach in Ha Long bay. Well at least they aren’t stuffing a calculator with suggested tip in my face.

Last night’s sleep was about as perfect as could be. For a solid seven I don’t remember a thing . Woke at 5am and just coasted until six. Sunrise was pretty spectacular. The only thing to mar the perfection is that there was no freshly brewed coffee available. The only coffee on hand was the Starbucks instant that I had brought. Around 6:30 the breakfast bar opened and I did get that dark black liquid medicine. The last cruise on the Mekong, was well served in the meals department. This cruise make them look like C rations, well maybe not that bad, but certainly MREs. Breakfast was the usual, a plantation of fruit, a bakery of breads, a ranch of meats, a coop of eggs, and an orchard of juices, plus a plethora of Asian fare that I just glanced at.

I had a sufficient breakfast, omelet, a croissant and some juice … plus a liter of coffee . Chatted with a few people and mostly just hung around. I did get together with a couple who I thought were my age, and were a decade younger. Whoopsie ! But boomers gotta boom and I figured they would know etiquette as far as how much to tip the staff. They were as clueless as I was. They sent a text to their travel agent to find out. It came out to about the same ballpark as I had expected.

They were one nighters, and left close to 10am and it felt like I had the boat to myself for a few hours

before the new one and two night people arrived.

It wasn’t even eleven when my assigned custodian pretty much demanded I eat some of the brunch because it was going to be The Oregon Trail until the next time food was served, and she didn’t want a icon appear above my head “Theresa died of dysentery “.

Somewhere in the afternoon I stepped out of my cabin and met a crew member who told me it was time to go. Uhh.. okay .. I thought it was optional and I got the impression it was not optional. The program read, high speed boat tour of Ha Long bay, bike ride and village tour and beach swimming. There was no “or” in there or “and” it was all or nothing. Might as well accept the ‘all’.

At the rear of the boat, I guess I should say stern, there was already a tender that was from The Elite of the Seas, a sister ship to this one. I had looked at both these boats online and liked the deck plan better on this boat. The Elite and odd first floor configuration that blocks the veranda on two of the first deck cabins and I wanted to make sure I didn’t get that cabin and I knew I wouldn’t on this vessel. The baker’s dozen of The Tribe of Elite, thought that they were slumming it to be forced to pick up the flotsam of Team Stellar. What they didn’t realize is that the prices for both boats are virtually identical plus or minus a mixed drink.

There was the one woman who had a little too much work done. Her skin was tighter and Ringo Star’s drum heads. Her eye brows were almost at the top of her head, and nothing above her eyebrows moved. Whoever had done her work did a good job, but there was still that little horizontal incision scar behind her ear. Her surgeon should have gone along the back of her ear and not the way he (she?) did. I will take my photographs and make subtle color enhancements and crop out some unwanted aspects of the photo, but nothing that screams HDR ! With colors and vibrancy that are obviously un-natural. Why someone would do that to their face is beyond me. One win for Team Stellar.

Second win for Team Stellar — no against Tribe Elite is that our boat does laugh more and as a rule has more fun. Maybe a stick in your butt, Tribe Elite hinders your sense of humor .

The ‘Speed Boat tour’ was just moving from one location to another. No narration or anything except engine noise and passing rocks and greenery. With the bow of the tender against concrete we were told on exiting that we had two options. Either a bike ride to the village or a giant electric golf cart to the same village. The boat wrangler said the bike ride was ‘Some up, some down’. I rode my bike almost every day this past five months this should be a snap. We were ushered quickly past the great knobby tired multi grared mountain bikes and were lead to some one gear bikes that were new when I was in high school. Well, I could have dreamed of a geared bike I guess. Maybe it will be like the brochure of a flat bucolic ride through the country side.

It wasn’t. When you see one of those little triangle signs with a black diamond on it with a number and a percentage , you know you are in for a climb. There were two of those on this ride. I would have done fine if I could have dropped a gear, but I had to admit defeat and I needed to dismount and walk the bike up the hill. Then I had to gingerly ride the brakes on the way down, because those old time tire squeezing brakes have no stopping power like disc brakes. The flat parts were very flat and it was a nice to effortlessly cruise the countryside —— except for my clueless compatriots. They had no concept of bike etiquette , maybe etiquette in general. A “On your left” or a bell or something that would have gone a long way and maybe a ear wax cleaning would have helped when I said “On your left”.

The village tour was less than climatic. For me the high point was the ‘fish massage’ where you sit at the edge of a small pond and drape your feet into the pond and the little teeny fish swim up and nibble at your limbs, eating any dead skin that they find. I and everyone couldn’t help to keep from laughing. It was such an unexpected experience. It tingled like teeny electric shocks but not in a bad way. Just tingles. I really liked it, couldn’t do it for very long, but it was  pleasant. We had this available for us in Washington state for a short period of time , but the health department shut it down because it was unsanitary. I guess boiling the fish after each customer didn’t work so well.

We got the how to grind rice demonstration, and the buffalo viewing. Those adventuresome of us tried the snake wine (not I) and it promised virility and male heirs to the men who  partook.

Then a rewind of the bike ride back to the tender. We had pulled away from the pier and the deck hand did a head count and we were one short. Of course, it was a member of Tribe Elite and pals with Ms. Plastic Fantastic. We pulled back to the dock and the deckhand was sent on a search and recovery mission and was successful. She flounced on board without even a look of apology or chagrin, she just expected us to await her appearance. The twat !

The beach was sandy. The water was warm and unexpectedly the beer was free (well included, if not exactly free)

Then back at the boat for some down time before dinner on the deck.

Wow ! Wow ! I just figured out that the cruise manager was saying to me. There is a German couple who I have been mooching cigarettes from are going to the same place tomorrow as I am and they are going by private car and offered me a ride with them instead of taking the bus that I had planned. Wow !! I can not believe their generosity. Of course I declined ——— NOT !

World Heritage Kayaking

 Tuesday November 7th

Free advice. Either do not look in the toilet bowl and if you do, do not Google what you saw. Pancreatic cancer. Peptic ulcer. A different sort of cancer. I should have stayed away from Google and just accepted it was left over from yesterday’s adventure. As the adage goes, “When you hear hoof beats, think of horses and not zebras”. If it persists I’ll look into zebras tomorrow.

The cruise ship had arranged to pick me up at 8:30 and were right on time. A very plush 5 person limo van for a 2 hour ride to Ha Long Bay. The driver made one stop to pick up a couple at another hotel. A nice young couple from San Diego. She a pediatric nurse and he does something, but I wasn’t clear on exactly what it was.It involved a lot of international traveling and so he probably works for the C.I.A. We had a nice chat most of the trip, I liked them quite a bit.

The van dropped us at he correct dock and names taken, credit card scanned and lanyard issued identifying which of the 400 vessels on the bay were yours. It was a zoo, an organized zoo, but my brain went into overload. I only had to endure this craziness for about 30 minutes before we, the red tag adorned were ushered onto the tender to be whisked to our boat 35 minutes away.

Then entire crew was on the fantail to welcome us aboard and we were whisked up to the third floor for a multi course lunch. I mean a sit down appetizer to soup to main and desert all with a presentation that makes most high end restaurants look like McDonald’s. After lunch we were escorted to our rooms, with just enough time to wash up and sigh before it was time to go do the first activity. Back on the tender and off to the cave exploration. There were two options one in a bamboo scow rowed by a local man or a nice kayak through the same area. The local man did not row the kayak for you. I don’t think a single member of the passengers went for the bamboo boat, we all took the kayak choice.

The kayak was missing a rudder so a little more work than I was used to, and besides there were hazards. Other kayaks and bamboo boats, all vying for the same small cove. We all paddled toward a dark spot which was booked as a cave. One of the other kayakers said it was more a tunnel than a cave. The ceiling was so low that if you weren’t paying attention you could get a face full of stalactite or a mild concussion. It was about 100 feet long and then into another protected cove. We all paddled around a little and then headed back through the same cave as before and it had lost it’s mystique by then.

Back to the dock and the tender and the ship where it was hurry up to catch the sun lower behind the islands. As we all sipped on a cocktail or two or three.

By now the tribes had been sorted and the new conversations were repeated exactly word for word as had been recited to a previous group. Each member of the group, intently listening to the other group,but not hearing a syllable because they needed to tell their own more interesting or important life’s history.

Dinner disappointed me. I was hoping for fine dining like lunch instead it was an outdoor BBQ buffet. If I had wanted to stand in line to get my supper I would have stayed at the hotel and waited for breakfast. It was a nice buffet, but it still reminded me of any number of mess halls I’ve experienced.

Dinner is done and so am I.

 

Killing time in Sapa

 Monday November 6

I had a 1:30pm bus ride back to Hanoi arranged and it was a must, because the next day was a 8:30am pick-up for the cruise. I could not miss the bus. And of course that was the day that my body decided to rebel against everything I had eaten for the previous month. Gingerly I went to breakfast and then back to the room, and then felt pretty good and thought that maybe a facial would be nice.

Every block there must be more massage parlors than there are restaurants, and there are a lot of restaurants. Leg massage. Foot massage. Back massage. Probably ear massage. Facial, not a one. About the same time I ran out of possibility’s was time that my tummy said it was time to head back to the room. Oh, dear lord how am I ever going to last 7 hours plus on a public bus and I forgot my Astronaut Diapers back in the states.

The god’s must have smiled on me, because life wasn’t 100 percent, but it was without incident. My berth on the bus was an upper one. I was jealous of not having one on the way to Sapa, I should haven’t been. After I climbed and struggled to get up there, I decided I was not getting down again until we got back to Hanoi.

I stepped off the bus after being chastised by the driver if it was my stop of not. (It wasn’t) and reaped the whirlwind. A storm had come into Hanoi and the wind was blowing so hard I was afraid I was going to end up on Oz.

Back at the hotel I was greeted like a long lost sister. Given a very nice room and had dinner.

The day could have been worse.

Dude ! Where's my tram ?

 Sunday November 5 2023

Breakfast was the normal feeding of the Locusts. Everyone in a hurry to get something before someone else might get it (I’ve never seen anything run out). I found an isolated two person table and dropped my book on it, claiming it as mine and went off in search of coffee and Orange juice. I returned with my bounty and an Asian man was sitting at my table and had moved my book aside so he could have that particular seat. I’m surprised there aren’t more mass shootings in the hotel dining rooms in Asia.

After breakfast I went back to the center square, passed the motorcycle ride offers and being followed by the short local women trying to sell me something. They each had a little of everything, scarf, purse, coin purse, hand made jewelry if a tourist has ever bought one they had one on hand to sell. They weren’t pushy, just persistent. Kind of nipping at your heels as you walked until finally realizing the my first ‘no’ was an actual no.

I wanted to take the tram to the top of the mountain and the guidebook said on weekends the lines are awful, so I thought getting up and going early would make this endurable. Maybe a map would have helped. I got to the church and saw this big yellow sign over the street and started heading towards it. The sign lead me to another and this one was straight up the side of a mountain. I started up passing the (generally) women selling trinkets and nuts. Boy ! The people who want to ride this cable car really have to be in shape. At last I reached the ticket office, by now I had sweated through my t-shirt and was dripping. I gave the guy my $3 and got through the turnstile. To find …. more steps. Ok, onward, ever onward. Finally I can see the flat area where the station must be. NOT ! It was a little shop. More up and finally I decide to take a look at what exactly was on the guide/map the man at the ticket office gave me.

Seems I found a nice mountain side garden and not a damn cable car or tram. Good golly. I was so bummed out. I wandered a bit but my heart wasn’t in it. So back down the steps and back to town. How dare they write their signs in Vietnamese.

I guess plan ‘B’ is in order. Cat Cat village in a valley that is south of town. I explored town for a while before stopping to talk to a taxi driver to get me a ride to the village . A deal was struck and off we went. Down the hill by my hotel, down and around my hotel to the lower entrance and maybe 100 yards further there was a road block of vehicles and road construction. That is where the taxi ride came to an end, the driver would not even attempt to go over the dirt even though many other vehicles were. The driver pointed at the road ahead and said “Cat Cat”. I had negotiated a several mile trip and this was basically a ride back to my hotel. Of course the price was set and I honored it.

At least the walk was downhill, but SUVs, 9 passenger vans, motorcycles all vied for a chance to run me over as I walked down the hill to the valley floor. I didn’t figure how I’d get back up, but that was for later to figure out. Down, down into the the valley of Cat.

Another ticket kiosk, with the words Cat Cat and I could swear ‘Tram’. I traded a couple bills for a ticket and went through another set of turnstiles. Down, down and more down. The down was lined with tourist shops and cafes.

At one cafe they had a platform overlooking the valley and I was staring into the distance looking at the scenery and heard a bird squawk. I looked 1/2 a step in front of me and there sat perched was an Eagle Hawk. I didn’t see that it was tethered to anything, just sitting on a flat area on the railing looking off into the distance. Except for the warning that I was about to invade his personal space, the bird had as much concern for me as it would if I was a mile away. This might have been worth the trek in itself.

More down and eventually I can to an end of the down. I had reached the bottom and no tram in sight.

What was here was a flat open area and some water wheels that didn’t seem to be doing any work other that just letting the passing water rotate them. They weren’t feeding water to anywhere, or turning gears to mill grain, they were just there to pose against the background. I walked along the planked walkway and one half of a couple stopped me and asked the usual tourist pleasantries, I don’t know what her husband/mate was doing but he was not in sight. I bid her adieu and after fifty foot further on there he was showing the his moon to the world. Dude ! I know there is a toilet 100 feet back in the village.

The other sight Cat Cat is known for is a waterfall, I started for it and realized it was more down and no tram . I didn’t want to see it that bad. If I want to see water fall, I have a shower in the room.

Near the waterwheels was where the motorbike trap was set, and I bit. Back up the road, past the construction and to my hotel’s door. Lesson learned? Probably not.

I stayed in the hotel for dinner. It was okay, some soup and a pork stir fry with a few too many little red fiery peppers. Off to Netflix and bed.

Seven hours on my back

 Saturday - November 4

A long day of not much to report.

6am out the door to catch the 6:30am bus for Sapa. Sapa a hill town in the north on the way to China. It is known for trekking through the terraced rice fields and having a cable car to the top of the tallest mountain in Indochina. Seven hours by bus and could probably save an hour by shared limo van. I don’t know the price difference, but I opted for the bus.

It was the strangest bus I have ever ridden. A sleeper bus. Instead of plush seats like a normal tourist but this was a long distance local bus. On one side of the aisle were two nearly lay flat positions, the other side had singles. The ‘seating’ was bunk bed style. With the lower at the actual floor level and upper at chest height. My berth was at the back of the bus on the floor. So down on my knees I crawled into my allotted space. It wasn’t too bad, certainly designed for shorter stature people but miles ahead of economy seating on Vietnam Air. There was a blanket and a bottle of water for each passenger. With a low diesel rumble we were off.

What can I say about a bus ride? Actually is wasn’t too bad. Long, and a little cramped, but manageable. A couple pee and, snack stops on the way and we got to Sapa in one piece.

My first impression was very similar to Shimla in India. A hill town that was popularized in the late 1800’s by the colonial powers as an escape from the summer heat and humidity of the capital. Delhi in India and Hanoi here. Both towns had a large flattened area as the main square including the stone Catholic Church. The main difference is that Sapa was French influence and Shimla was British. Meaning that when you cross the street you look left and not right (mostly). Off of the main square were streets like spokes on a wheel radiating out. There was no real rhyme or reason to their path, except they were probably following some goat path that was established before the French even heard of the place. Oh! Did I mention it was in the mountains? That means that except for the central square every other way is either steeply up or sometimes steeper down.

My hotel was about as far from the square as is possible and still be in the town proper. The taxi dropped me off and I entered the most austere reception area ever. I looked a “Where is the reception desk?” Question at the doorman and the words I thought I understood were ‘Fifteen’ and ‘one’ and he pointed to a bank of elevators. The main reception desk was on the first floor and the hotel was 18 floors high and kind of glued to the side of a cliff.

After one of the world’s most impersonal check in I went to my ‘City view’ room. The room itself was great, really great. The city view was a bare cliff face on the other side of the road I taxied in on and directly above the entrance. The elevators were a short 3 steps from my room door and each elevator arrival was announced with a almost subtle ‘ding’. Well at least it wasn’t next to the coke and ice machine, because there wasn’t one.

It was mid afternoon so I took a walk back up to the square and looked around, mostly to get a feel for the town, I’ll do tourist stuff tomorrow . I was surprised how tiring laying on a bed for seven plus hours made me. I decided on a sandwich and coke for dinner and then went back to my room and laid around some more. I watched a show that is part of my Sunday ritual back home and read a little before lights out before 10pm. I was still in the embrace of Jet-lag.

Choo-choo Java

 November 3rd.

Same breakfast and morning routine as before, only slower. I opened Google maps and set my destination and started following the little blue arrow. By now I’m kind of getting a hang for how and where things are, certainly not ready to start a taxi service, but not so intimidated in going in new and different directions.

Train street was my destination. I wasn’t going to experience the actual full adrenaline filled exposure, but at least I could say I saw the street. Because of safety concerns the street was officially closed to the public, unless you had a personal invitation from a shopkeeper. Which meant, if you were willing to buy a cup of coffee, you got an invitation.

There was a small crowd of tourists and coffee hawkers at the rail crossing. One woman gave me a invitation and told me the train was coming soon. I knew that was hooey because Mr. Google said that today’s trains were at 7:00pm and 7:45pm. It was only about 11:25am and I didn’t think my bladder could endure eight hours of coffee. Though it really might make a difference with the jet lag.

So, ya, ya … train coming soon. I’ve had bigger lies told to me this trip. Lead on to a little stool and some coffee. —— Vietnam is (according to someone) the third largest coffee producer in the world. They might grow the heck out of it, but they sure don’t know how to make a decent cuppa’ Joe. —— So I sit on the little plastic stool with my knees hitting my chin and watch the world go by. Women standing in the tracks, with their hair flipped over their shoulder and just the right pose of phone held above forehead height, head cocked slightly to the side and big smile. Next stop instagram. “Yes my life is perfect, and your’s is not!”, pose. Then there are the couples where he is the male Annie Leibovitz directing her in just the perfect shaft of sunlight, before having her lay or sit on the rails. I was waiting for one of them to come out with the ropes tie them to the tracks, like a modern Simon Lagree.

Then there was movement, and not from posing. Tourists were shuffled off the tracks, little plastic stools were moved closer to buildings. Payment for coffee was demanded and a screech of a high pitched train whistle was heard. The gate lady wasn’t lying to me ! 11:45am and here comes the train. I attempt to stand  and the shop proprietor put her hand on my shoulder and made me sit. Well at least maybe when the train does hit me I’ll be in a ball configuration and will just roll instead of tumble. Then it was on top of me! Not at hundreds of miles an hour, but at a pretty good clip, maybe 25 mph. From my vantage point, of where I could actually reach out and touch the passing cars, 25 mph was more than enough. That was more exciting than crossing a Hanoi highway at rush hour.

The train passed. The instagramers and wannabe Vogue cover photographers faded in the wind and the little plastic stools moved back closer to the tracks and all was peaceful again. All that for a $2 cup of bad coffee.

Nothing of great consequence happened the remainder of the afternoon. I roamed around a bit and sweated some more. I did lay under the a/c in the room for a while relaxing. Not a 9 mile day, but still 5 miles was enough.

I checked out TripAdvisor for a good restaurant in the area and it pointed one eight or nine blocks away. A nice evening walk. When I turned the final corner the street was lined with restaurant after restaurant. It was right in the middle of Hanoi’s “Beer Street”. If you are a backpacker on a gap year, this is your milieu. Cheap eats and cheaper beer. Beer was cheaper than water. I decided to forget TripAdvisor’s recommendation and just wing it.

Similar to running a gauntlet, plastic laminated menus were shoved in my face followed by “Come. Sit”,

“Cheap Beer”, “Good food”, “Maybe later?” as I proceeded to worm my way past the menus and drunks. At the major crossroads of Beer street and some other street I found a plastic stool to my liking and ordered a beer and some food. I had to snake my way through the crowd to get to the location and still the occasional SUV would turn the corner and proceeded to. The vehicles were so close to to my table that the host put other plastic stools in front of my table to at least make a noise before my meal went from a sit down to a to-go. Motorcycles and people I expected, but not Isuzus.

The meal was surprisingly good for being served in a madhouse on a freeway. Maybe the beer buffered my expectations a little bit.

On my way back to the hotel I passed by the lake again and I have no idea what was going on. But the once jammed street was absolutely (4 or 5 lanes) car less. Filled with couples out for an evening stroll on a Friday evening. The city had closed off a major thoroughfare into a wide pedestrian mall. That was surprising and sweet.

Back to the hotel and the alarm set for 5am, for a 6:30 bus to Sapa.

Hanoi and the long walk

 Friday November 3rd 2023
Hanoi, Vietnam


I have sweated so much that my shirts show salt stains, and that is just the first half of the day.

Let’s try to catch up a bit. Sunday, the Seattle Seahawks pulled a last minute win from the jaws of defeat. I missed that I was on a bus between home and the airport. The bus ride was totally forgettable and the hotel check in was the same.

I was really looking forward to eating at a nearby restaurant named 13 Coins. They were having some sort of big whoop-de-do and the kitchen was not serving meals because of a large group in the back room. Something I had never expected or experienced before. Of course I was welcome to sit in the bar and drink my dinner, but that didn’t sound very filling.

Back to the hotel and their restaurant’s offering was something that you would only eat if you had just been released from prison and had no way to leave the premises. Fortunately I did not have an ankle monitor.

Across the six lanes of traffic from the hotel and down the street a block or two was Sharp’s Roadhouse. I had eaten there once before with a less that stellar. Tonight’s visit lived down to my previous experience. I should have walked another block to Jack-In-The-Box. I got food and left. One of the things I detested about this joint was when it came time to pay, I handed the server a credit card and he had a hand held device where he swiped the card and then thrust the damn thing in my face with several pre-suggested tips to tap on.  This tipping has gotten out of hand. SeaTac city has a mandated minimum wage of $20 an hour and the server is still begging for additional wages from the customer?

Back to the hotel and up at the proper time to catch the proper plane at the proper location. I only made one wrong turn in the terminal so got to ride the transit train a few extra times

The flight from Seattle to Seoul was flight. There is nothing to say about it. It started at the right time and got to the right place about the right time. The meal was the worst I have ever had on an airplane, and we all know how airplane meals rank on the Michelin star level. The before landing snack was an egg and cheese burrito. The box was marked ‘Best By January 7th 2025’. Only nearly a year and a half from now. That left me questioning the quality of Delta Airlines.

In Seoul they had it down to a science. Scan your passport at a gate, if you are going in the right direction the gate parts, if not it points you in the correct direction. It really was slick. I did lose a less than one inch keychain knife to their security that I had completely forgotten about. Even if I had remembered it, I still might have left left it where it was. I mean, what could I do with it, carve my initials in the flight attendant?

The plane ride was barely endurable. Vietnam Airlines is not built for human taller than 5 feet five inches, especially after 11 hours on a previous flight. I fidgeted and fussed for 5 hours and finally was released from that cocoon at Hanoi.

Immigration with my e-visa was a snap. And soon I was in Vietnam. I changed a Benjamin to a bunch of Ho Chi Mins and stepped outside into the din and crush that is always immediately outside in most foreign airports. There I made my first mistake that I knew at that moment was a mistake and took the first taxi offered and the first price offered. He did get me to the right hotel, but for the price it should have been a stretch limousine and not a nine person van. I was really tired and hope to not make that mistake again in the future.

After a full 24 hours between beds I fell into on here in Hanoi, grateful that the trip had been no worse so far..

First full day in Hanoi, Wednesday November first. This was a get situated day, do a few errands and clean up my schedule for vacation time.

Jet lag was evident as is/was expected. Hopped in bed and immediately went to sleep. Then 5 hours later fully awake at 3am. This is after a true 24 hours between beds and not sleeping a wink. Finally at 6:30 I gave up and got ready to fact the day.

Breakfast was what you would expect from a tour bus hotel. That's not very much in the way I would consider breakfast. There was the egg/omelet station and some toast and a muffin. The rest of the menu was totally Asian. I like most Asian foods, but noodle soup for breakfast really doesn’t do it for me.

Of course the dining room was completely packed with full tables, and the empty ones laden with dishes awaiting to be cleared. My fellow Breakfast Club members were as accommodating to the rest of the club as one Jackal is to another. Hands reaching in between me and the food. Heaping plates forewarning of the coming famine. Each person with a lanyard with the name of their tour group emblazoned on it. They might have been leashed, but they certainly weren’t very well trained.

After breakfast and based on the bellman’s “Go that way” gesture I soon found a beautiful pristine lake in the middle of an very hectic city. Groups of people clustered lakeside flowing from onto Thai Chi pose to another. A silent dance symphony of movement. This was in total contrast to getting to the lakeside.

Getting there, when crossing any street, much less the 5 marked, 8 actual lanes of traffic all late for some important meeting or possibly tooth flossing. The good advice I was given, before leaving home was step into the street and walk slowly forward. NEVER backward. The motorcycles will steer around you in you just keep walking. Cars? Trucks? You might want to not step in front of them and if you do you better not tarry. If you avoid getting a free ride on a windshield, and only get beeped at it was only a minor faux pas. I am not sure if the beep means “Watch the heck out!” Or “Darn it ! Missed another one !”. Now a long horn blow, means that the pregnant lady in the back seat must have had her baby in the car, and that is why they were in such a hurry.

I continued around the lake, getting the very occasional street vendor beckoning me to look and buy their wares and the pedicabs offering rides for “Very cheap”. I was on a mission, sorry no time to diddle daddle.

Phone store found, plan chosen, magic buttons pressed and I was again a member of society with Google maps, email and Facebook. All the essentials for most people in my circle of friends back in the US . Except here, WhatsApp is communication king and Grab is Uber with the added option of the back of a motorcycle.

I fired up Google maps, typed in the address of my next stop, a 10 minute walk to the company  that I will be sailing on Halong Bay with. The room (cabin?) I have booked is quite adequate for my needs, but there are two Executive cabins on each vessel that look other worldly. Their website designer did a great job for a 4th grader, but try and find sailing dates and room availability forget it. If you want to see pages and pages of smiling people doing happy things you are in the right place, but how to get to do them yourself it was a mystery to me. So the 10 minute walk took 15 but I found my destination, a huge plain concrete box with elevators. I walked in and was about to press the call button and some guy comes up to me and starts pestering me. He’s in some sort of uniform, so I get that he is security. I whip out my phone and show him the address of the company and Lost in Translation begins to play. He doesn’t read English, and I do not speak Vietnamese. He rolls into a 2 minute soliloquy about something I assume about ‘you don’t belong here, Lady’. I point at the email street address and owing at the building address and I think he gets it, but no elevator button pressing for me today.

I give up and refer to the email and see a phone number and call it. The nice lady at the other end said yes that is the correct office, for their banking operations, but not their business office, and she doesn’t offer that to me. I explain that I want to know if there are other sailings with the executive suite is available and she says she’ll look into it. I somehow felt that she was just saying the right sounding words to get me off the line. (She eventually did email me back to say that she could up sell me to a cabin on the same sailings, but no mention of the executive suite on other sailings)

I checked my next location of google maps and it was a 35 minute walk away. Well that turned into a hour and a half slough through areas not seen by a tourist eye this millennium. First I got on the wrong side of a major highway with no crossing. Then I found a warren of little streets that only had one way in and one way out, the same way I entered. Then I found the correct street. Mind you it is close to 90 degrees with matching humidity. Back home I drink a liter of water, and a while later about the same leaves. Here that same liter of water magically disappeares like a David Copperfield performance. So I look across the street and see that I am at the 800 block and I need to be in the 600 block. I don’t know if a block here is the same as a block back home, but there is no way a sidewalk block is the same. They are mazes. Hot boiling vats of oil, little stools with seated men and women eating, motorcycles completely blocking the side walk where you have to step into the street to get around these roadblocks. at last I see the 600 block, Frogger  across the street and can not find 605. I turn and look back across the street to see if maybe to odd numbers are over there. Nope, the 800 block is over  and the 600 block I want is where I passed a liter of water ago.

Back up the block to the right area and show a shop keeper the address and he does the ‘it’s just over  there’s motion. I end at the right address eventually and walk into a salon where a woman is getting her long tresses washed. This really doesn’t look like any bike manufacturing company to me. They look a question at me and I mime the pedals of a bike and I get a blank stare in return. The wet headed woman dials someone and hands me FaceTime with another someone. I explain what I want and get the same deer in the headlights expression. I Hang up. I do the bike mime again and nuttin’. Then epiphany strikes. Google translate. BIKE SHOP. Bike shop?!?!? Why didn’t you say that sooner!! Right down that alley! Ya! Right there !.

Needless to say, they were right but I still needed to call the company and the sales representative picked me up on his motorbike and rode me to the end of the alley, to a turn for a block, and then a U turn up a concrete ramp and into a large dark warehouse for another 1/2 a block to his company. Simple as that. Except they didn’t do what I was hoping they did. No rainy day windshield for this kid.

My fitness tracker said I had walked nearly 8 miles so was pooped, so I called a Grab car and the sales rep scootered me back to the hair salon.

I melted into the bed at my hotel until an appropriate dinner time and had a nice Cantonese meal before calling it a night. Apple Watch says 9.12 miles I think that’s enough for a day.


Jet lag the next day November 2nd, hit again at 3am, but I nursed naps until 7am. I looked at my t-shirt from the day before and could white lines of salt ringing it.

 With business out of the way yesterday it was tourist time. There is a Hop-on — Hop-off double decker bus that goes to about 10 or 12 stops. I only wanted 2, but I’ll pick up a 4 hour pass just in case I decide to stop in at a pagoda or two.

It was a nice walk back to the lake and then to the north end of the lake where the bus started. It was pretty interesting seeing the city from the top of an open bus, after seeing so much of it from street shoe level.

Past pagodas and churches and other places I should see, but I did have a goal in mind. I hopped off at the Ho Che Minh Mausoleum, not that I wanted to see him lying in state, my destination was further on.

Dressed in t-shirt, shorts and sandals I started trucking west. At least I think it was west. Along the way there were offers of motorbike rides, and the vendor offering to rent me a skirt so I could enter the grounds. Like Jesus in the Vatican and Buddha and even God in Greece. Nobody likes shoulders or knees. I can see not liking some parts of the human body, but those are two universal pieces of anatomy and it’s not like it’s going to surprise God or Ho that I have them. Anyway I wasn’t worried about my knees because I had no intention of going there.

I started to get out of the area where people were stopping me on the street to hawk this or that, and I knew I was on the right path. I found the cousin to what I was looking for so decided to stop and see the B-52 museum. No, not a museum dedicated to the Bailey’s and Kaluha cocktail, but huge masses of aluminum and wires. They were full of heavy metal things full of explosives half the time and empty the other half. The museum consisted of kind of a jig saw puzzle of a B-52. None of the pieces seemed to match one another, but the completed puzzle did look like a very, very broken aircraft. I am assuming that several planes were pieced together to form this display.

I toured the museum and then went to sit and ponder over a bottle of water. The guy who ran the museum’s cafe didn’t speak a whit of English. I had to Google Translate “Bottle of water please” before he got the concept. That’s 2 for 2 for Google Translate.

I showed him on Google Maps where I wanted to go and he pointed just around the next corner.

I found it is a snap and was in for a letdown. The B-52 landing gear, that came to rest in the middle of a small lake was no more. Probably picked up and moved to the aluminum jigsaw puzzle a block away. The only thing I got there was a yappy drop kick dog that tried to bite me as I walked past.

Back past the rent-a-skirt people and the motorbike taxis only to find that my way back was now blockaded off. The entire complex was blocked off. Someone important was coming to visit, and I guess they didn’t like crowds. I went a-roving until I saw a big red topless bus stop for some fat people in shorts and cameras and decided to hang out there for a bit until the next big red bus came along.

Next stop for me was “Maison Centrale”. Google Translate says that is something like Center House. I actuality it was the central prison that the French built in the late 1800’s. Google Translate now 2 for 3. U.S. citizens of a certain age, might also know it as the “Hanoi Hilton” where U.S. downed fliers were housed during their stay from 1964 until 1973.

The tour seemed to be broken into 2 halves. The first half was about the French holding political prisoners there until 1954. Frankly the conditions were Hellish. The second half was about the U.S. POWs. There were photographs of them playing volleyball, decorating a Christmas tree, playing soccer and making Christmas dinner. Which only re-enforced for me the adage that ‘History is written by the winners’. Because that is not exactly how I remember former POWs describe it when they were reunited back in the USA.

Finding the red bus was easy this time and my 4 hours was about up so I headed back to the lake and then my hotel.

In the evening I had arranged through the hotel a food tour. The price included pick up at the hotel and 2 to 3 hours of local food from street side vendors. I forgot that this was Hanoi and pick-up did not necessarily mean four wheels. Yes, it was a motor scooter. F me ! Careening through the streets treating stop lights as suggestions and pedestrians as chaff we arrived at the meeting place. Six members of the human race from nearly as many locations and one Vietnamese lady off to find food. The tour was great fun. Six or seven stops each stop a different menu item. Most consisted of a rice paper shell that you filled with various meats and vegetables and then dipped in a sauce the was generally vinegar based where you added your own custom touches to it. Some of the dishes I could replicate at home, some I could if I was able to practice for 5 years. It was well worth the time and money and everyone waddled away at the end, with distended and happy tummy’s.

I opted to walk back to the hotel rather than risk invalidating my health insurance policy.

Bed was great until 3am, and then mostly good until the next morning.