I arrived in Hoi An early New Year’s morning, operating off about 2 hours of sleep. I had thought riding an overnight bus was genius since it allowed me to use sleeping hours as travel hours. Unfortunately I barely slept at all, which took me completely by surprise. In the very recent past I’ve slept sitting upright on a motorcycle, I’ve slept in a hammock next to chickens and pigs. I have slept on virtually every bus, train and plane I have been on in the last 6 months – but I could not sleep lying down on this bus. Instead I spent most of the night shifting around in my “bed”, New Year’s texting, and staring off into the dark, being vaguely reflective in honor of New Year’s. I had a pretty fantastic second half of 2012 – exploring and seeing the world the way I had always dreamt of seeing it. And I was ringing in 2013 literally en route to my next destination. Setting goals and making New Year’s resolutions felt out of place, but I knew lurking somewhere in my future…… I would be back home thinking about my priorities and where I want to take my life. Maybe it was that last thought that finally put me to sleep…..

I rolled off the bus at the station, and checked into the hotel that my Easy Rider guide booked for me. For $15 a night I had a huge room in a basic but brand new hotel, with a balcony, king size bed, and jet stream bathtub. Way to go Mr. Water!! I ate breakfast, showered, slept, read and didn’t leave my room until the next day.

At least in all that time I managed to read up on my latest location. Hoi An is a small city off the coast of central Vietnam. At one time it was the most important trading ports on the South China Sea, but in
the late 18th century the river mouth silted up, and another nearby city took over as the main port. Hoi An was left quiet and alone for the next 200 years (leaving most of the buildings and city layout
 untouched), until it was “rediscovered” as a tourist destination, and named an UNESCO world heritage site.

I spent the next couple days eating, reading, and wandering around the town. The food was outrageously good!!! When I wasn’t eating I shopped and roamed the streets on either side of the river. The buildings in Old Town are all below 3 stories, painted gold and beautifully weathered with age. If it weren’t 
for all the tourists, made-to-order tailors and souvenir shops, you could almost imagine you’d gone back in time. My favorite was just after sunset when all the lamps were lit, and the streets were still busy with people. I read that on the 14th of every lunar month there is a full moon festival where the old town is only accessible by foot, electric lights are cut off, the streets are lit by lamps and people send paper lanterns floating down the river for luck. It sounded incredible, but I missed it!

My last day in Hoi An I went on yet another bicycle tour. I really can’t help myself at this point. It’s the most fun way to explore outside the cities, while also getting exercise. (Which is important because my clothes barely fit anymore.) The tour took us on an hour ferry ride to some islands outside of Hoi An.
 We spent the morning riding on dirt roads in between rice paddies, and going from island to island via bamboo bridges.

We stopped for lunch at the owner of the tour company’s grandmother’s house. While we were there we watched her weaving sleeping mats. (Note the slight red around the older lady’s mouth in the pic below? From chewing betel nut/leaf).

We saw how round boats were made, and our guide explained how they came about. She said that during the French occupation they charged taxes on boats, so in order to avoid paying tax the Vietnamese invented these boats that they could pass off as baskets. (I haven’t been able to confirm this
 online, but it sounded credible).

A lady “planting” rice, and a guy fixing some kind of tractor to prep the fields for planting.

I left the next day to catch a flight back to Ho Chi Minh City. One of the Australians I met in Mui Ne (Chuong) was there visiting with friends and family, and he invited me to come hang out until I flew home two weeks later. Sounded good to me!! Hopping from town to town had lost its appeal, and I loved Saigon when I was there before. Now I had the opportunity to experience it with someone who could speak Vietnamese, and knew their way around!

I can honestly say that in the following 2 weeks I didn’t visit one tourist site. What I did a lot of was eat!! Chuong introduced me to every kind of Vietnamese fruit imaginable – mangosteens, rambutans, milk fruit, jackfruit, sapodilla. We got egg sandwiches from street carts for breakfast, and I got Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk every chance I could. We met up a couple times with the South Africans who were in town for a couple of days before flying home. (The fabulous couple from Mui Ne).

We alternated between hanging out with Chuong’s cousin, and his friend, who showed us two very different versions of Saigon. His cousin was born and raised in Vietnam, and he brought us to places that appealed more to Vietnamese than to Westerners in some ways. He was married with two kids, but got a free pass away from the family to spend quality time with Chuong while he was in town. He brought us out for dinner a couple nights, and had us over to his house for his daughter’s birthday. They served mountains of fresh boiled crayfish and crabs.

He brought us to a night club that was unreal. There was probably as many staff as there were customers. Security, waiters – there was even a man whose sole job seemed to be to add more ice to our cups. The music was…..let’s say classic (a couple of years old), and blaring. There was also “classic” lighting going with lasers. It was ah-mazing!!

He even invited us to the wedding of his work colleague’s sister. Apparently weddings are more of a social event than an intimate affair, and it’s not that unusual to bring a couple guests. (As long as you have enough class to leave an envelope with a monetary gift for the newlyweds). We drove an hour or two out of the city, to the home of the couple where the reception was being held. As we walked up they were waiting to greet us at the entrance. I don’t know what they said, but they seemed happy to welcome complete strangers to their reception. We sat down at a big round table, were served course after course of home cooked food. Plastic bottles of rice wine were in constant circulation. The bride and groom and their family came by to take pictures, and thank us for coming. I have no idea what the average Vietnamese wedding was like – but this one was a party! The guests were taking turns singing at the mic, and they put their heart into it! The men were boozing and dancing. Talk about a change of pace – you can barely get a guy on the dance floor at an American wedding, but here the dance floor was man’s territory. The older guy below was king of the karaoke. And also a master rice wine maker.
His friend Jason on the other hand grew up in Saigon, but lived in Australia for several years. He was young, cool and single, and showed us the hip international side of Saigon. We went to see him DJ one night, and hung out with the “downtown” crowd. He gave me shopping suggestions for where to find gifts that people would actually want to keep. He brought us to the best hole in the wall seafood restaurant, the all you can eat oyster nights, the best Indian, and he invited us for brunch with his friends. My last night in Saigon we went to dinner, played darts, and finished in the wee hours with some more amazing seafood from a street cafe.

So my last two weeks of travel – I stayed in one place. I had no place I wanted to visit, no flight or bus to catch, no new neighborhood to learn. I unpacked my bag and relaxed. I had an incredible time just hanging out with a great new friend, who shared his friends and family with me. The time went by too fast, and it seemed like all of a sudden I was at the airport again. This time to fly back to the US. It didn’t seem real. I was sad to leave, but it also felt like I was just hopping on my next flight to somewhere – not ending my 7 months of travel. It didn’t feel that long ago that I was just starting out with all this time ahead of me, excited and curious about what I would find. I didn’t really know how to feel…..

Will write some deep thoughts later!

I met my Easy Rider guide in front of the hotel in the morning. As I mentioned, the idea behind Easy Riders is to see a less touristy side of Vietnam, and to see it from the back of a motorcycle. To see the countryside, stop at roadside stands and restaurants, visit waterfalls and farms. The whole concept is flexible – there is no minimum group size, or set departure date, and you can tailor your trip however you want. You can ride on the back of your guide’s bike, or on your own bike following behind; do a day trip, or use it as a mode of transportation between destinations.

During my time in Vietnam so far I’ve pretty much only visited places that are geared towards tourists. On the one hand it makes traveling easier since people speak at least a little English. But on the other hand, your perception of the culture becomes so filtered, it ends up nowhere near reality. A balance of both would be ideal, but can be hard to find….. Which brings me to my 2 day Easy Rider trip. It seemed like a great way to get that kind of balance, experience a less watered down version of Vietnam AND get from Mui Ne, inland to Dalat (all while avoiding yet another bus ride).

Back to my trip – after some small talk, my guide Mr. Water covered my bags with plastic, and strapped them to the back of the bike seat. Which left a space less than a foot between him and my bags for me to sit. It was a little awkward at first (squeezed right up behind him with my legs wrapped around) but I told myself he does this all the time, and has probably had younger and cuter than me, so I got over it.

We set off, and after not too long were in the country side headed away from the beach. As we got further into the country it was nothing but roads, farm fields and mountains. Hours went by just watching what was flying by as we drove. Kids walking to school in their uniforms of blue pants, white button down shirt and red tie. Restaurants on the side of the road, with hammocks just in case you need a nap (completely normal). Small houses, mostly with flat roofs and a veggie garden or paved area out front (instead of a yard). Lemon grass and cassava root drying on the side of the road.

People driving by with their bikes overloaded with anything you can think of.

Guys driving tractor-like things.

We stopped a couple of times – for lunch, to visit a market, stretch our legs. By late afternoon I was completely zoned out with drooping eyelids on the back of Mr. Water’s bike. I had been battling to stay awake, when out of nowhere my helmet bounced off the back of Mr. Water’s helmet. He shouted “Are you sleeping??”. “No!!!” I shouted back, kind of incredulous. Then I thought about it…..I must have dozed for a second, and my head must’ve dropped forward. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”.

By the time we got to Dalat the temperature had dropped 15+ degrees. We drove through the city, rode up to our hotel just before dark and arrived at about the same time as another Easy Rider duo. The hotel manager greeted our guides with familiarity and respect. And come to think of it, so had every restaurant and stop along the way. What I began to realize is that while the Easy Rider trips are off the usual tourist circuit, they have created their own “beaten path” of restaurants and hotels they all stop at the pre-set trips. Which kind of burst my bubble about having a unique experience. But having the built in network of other people to socialize with on the road helped make up for it.

We showered (separately), and went to dinner where I learned two important things. 1) Mr. Water taught me the Vietnamese toast “Mot, Hai, Ba – Vo!”, which as I understand it means “1, 2, 3 – in!”. As in – “in the mouth” I guess… 2) Vietnamese men really like to drink. They don’t seem to have any issues with public intoxication. (Note that I only said men. The ladies don’t drink much, if at all. Same thing goes for smoking.)

Throughout the day Mr. Water periodically gave me the hard sell to get me to extend my ride by a couple of days. He said I’d be able to see a lot more of the countryside and listed off the various places we could stop. He suggested a 4 day 3 night trip to Nha Trang, then I could catch an overnight bus from Nha Trang headed north to Hoi An. Hmmm….. A couple extra days of people watching and driving around the countryside did sound more appealing than site-seeing in another touristy city.

By the next morning I made up my mind to extend. Mr. Water placed some calls, and in under an hour booked our accommodation for the next 2 nights, booked my bus from Nha Trang, and reserved a hotel room and pick up for me in Hoi An. Impressive.

The next two days went pretty much like the first – long stretches of riding broken up by visits to some restaurant, or plantation. We stopped for some locally grown “weasel coffee”. They feed the weasel coffee beans, he poops them out, the beans are roasted, and then someone makes coffee out of it. It was just okay.

Visited a small silk factory.

Stopped at several street markets where Mr. Water would wait by the bike, and send me off to wander around while he chain smoked. At one market I came back to Mr. Water, followed by this guy. He talked to Mr. Water in Vietnamese, and next thing I knew Mr. Water was instructing me to go have a drink with him. The guy held my hand as we walked past all the locals watching and giggling. He didn’t speak any English, so we sat there for a while, drank our drinks, looked around – until Mr. Water drove up and said it was time to leave. But before he let me leave, my date turned his cheek to me and pointed. Huh. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, jumped on the bike, and drove off.

Visited this guy’s house. He has a couple huge pythons and scorpions, and he’ll let you hold them for a fee. Wonder how he came up with this idea?

Ate a lot. Mr. Water claimed his goal was to have me gain 10 kilos. I tried weasel and deer, but my favorite was regular old BBQ pork, rice vermicelli, and fish sauce. Pic from dinner one night with another Easy Rider duo. You can’t tell, but the shrimp had been skewered alive, and their legs were still moving on the grill.

Stopped for some boiled corn on the side of the road.

Helped some local ladies chop and strip sugar cane. I felt a little awkward, and the ladies seemed confused, but Mr. Water thought it was hysterical. After some thought, he may not have really expected me to do it….. (pardon the helmet hair)

Couple more pics from the road

We drove into Nha Trang late afternoon New Year’s Eve. Mr. Water and I said our goodbyes, and I wandered around for 3 hours killing time before my overnight bus left. Nha Trang was similar to Mui Ne in the sense that it was a tourist city on the beach, but it was much more crowded with people and high rise buildings than Mui Ne. I was only there for a couple of hours, so it’s probably not fair to have an opinion, but based on what I saw I didn’t regret my decision to skip it.

I boarded my overnight sleeper bus at about 7pm. My first sleeper bus of my trip, and where I would be ringing in the New Year, since it was New Year’s Eve. It was odd, but perfectly fine. Instead of seats there are 3 rows of narrow bunk beds – one row along each window, and another row down the center aisle. I fit in there pretty comfortably, and was able to stretch out, but anyone taller than 5′ 5″ would have to bend their legs. And if you’re even modestly overweight you’re out of luck because, you just won’t fit. I had hoped to sleep the whole 12 hour ride, and arrive at the end well rested, ready to enjoy my day. That was wishful thinking.

I got to the tiny airport the next afternoon with an hour and a half to spare. There are only a couple of gates at the airport, so you aren’t even allowed through security until it’s almost time to board your flight. As I waited I strategized about how I would make it from Saigon to Mui Ne. Scenario 1 – by some miracle I manage to make it back to my hotel in the 30 minutes after my flight lands, before my bus pick up leaves. Scenario 2 – I miss the pick up, grab my backpack from the hotel, and race to the bus station, still able to catch the bus before it leaves. Scenario 3 – I catch the next bus 5 hours later, and don’t arrive in Mui Ne until 1 in the morning. I don’t like this last scenario, but at least I have options. All I can do is keep my fingers crossed and wait….

Luckily my flight landed 10 minutes early, and I sprang to my feet ready to make a run for the door. One of those people, that thinks if they get out 1 minute earlier it will make a difference. But in my case it actually could. With only my carry-on, I ran from the plane and grabbed the first taxi. I checked the time every couple of minutes, willed my taxi driver to bully his way through the motorcycles, and called ahead to the hotel to ask them to have my backpack ready and stall the bus pick up. I arrived only 5 minutes late – to be given the news that the pick up had left. I asked if I could go to the bus station on my own and still catch the bus. No luck. Defeated, I plopped down on a couch to wait. One phone call and some Vietnamese conversation later, someone came out with my bag, hurried me towards the door, and said the bus would stop for me on the way out of town. Run, run, run Amazing Race style…. and I caught it after all – Mui Ne bound!

Mui Ne is a beach town on the South Coast of Vietnam, and is one of the most well known kitesurfing destinations in the world. I was looking forward to settling in for 9 days of kitesurfing lessons. I was determined to be up and running on my own by the time I left. I arrived to my hotel after dark, checked into my 6 person dorm, went next door for dinner and drinks with one of my new roommates, and then called it an early night so I would be well rested for my first lesson in the morning.

The pros about staying in a dorm: 1) it’s cheap ($12 a night, helping to offset the expense of kiting lessons). 2) it’s an easy way to meet people when traveling alone. 3) an extension of #2 – it’s a great opportunity to swap travel tips.

The cons about staying in a dorm: 1) virtually no privacy. 2) shared bathrooms. 3) contending with roommates sleep schedules. 4) not being able to really unpack due to shared living space. 5) no control over the temperature in the room (resulting in me sleeping with 2 towels tucked around me for a blanket).

After my first night in the dorms, I stopped at the front desk to visit with the owners, and inquired if a private room was available. It was fate – a booking had just cancelled leaving an open room that had my name all over it. I compromised with myself, and decided on the private room for the first half of my stay, and the dorm for the second half. My roommates were nice and all, but if given a choice I’m going for privacy.

With that sorted I went to the kite school for my first lesson. I spoke with the owners and my instructor about my previous lessons, and where I left off. I don’t know if it was listening to the German instructor in Otres Beach yelling for 2 days straight, the several month gap since my previously unsuccessful kiting attempts, or the sheer number of kites in the water in Mui Ne – but I had gotten nervous. We decided to start off with the basics again, and build my confidence from there. Back to setting up, controlling the kite, and body dragging in the water for a couple of days.

Later that afternoon I explored Mui Ne in the light of day. The Main Street in town runs parallel to the beach with low rise hotels, restaurants and bars on either side. I walked down the street to the right of my hotel for about half an hour, past the street side tables selling souvenirs made in China, eventually getting to an area with outdoor seafood restaurants. Then turned around and walked back past my hotel in the other direction. There was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, that was becoming more and more apparent as I walked in this direction. Meaty men with barrel chests in short-shorts, strutting down the street smoking cigarettes. Skinny ladies with padded bras and high heels, sashaying down the street smoking cigarettes. Everywhere signs, menus and conversation in Russian. Almost everyone was Russian!! Or should I say formerly-known-as Russian…..? Mui Ne must be like Mecca for them.

The next couple of days I read, went to the school for my kite lessons, visited my guy at the fruit stand on the way back, went for massages, and tried to find some decent food. I don’t know if it’s because they cater the food here to tourists, but it’s virtually flavorless. The one thing I did learn, is what to do with that little dish of salt, pepper and fresh lime that comes with almost every meal. For the two weeks prior I had been taking a pinch of the salt/pepper and sprinkling it over my dish, and then squeezing the lime on top. Wrong!! You’re supposed to squeeze the lime juice into the little dish, mix it with the salt and pepper, and then dip your seafood/meat into it.

That weekend a friend I had met in Saigon on the bus back from the Cu Chi tunnels came to spend a couple of days. He has managed to realize the dream of working while traveling – translating documents to Spanish online from where ever he is. I spent the next couple of days with kite lessons in the morning, and then meeting up with him in the afternoon to hang out and explore some more.

The rest of my time in Mui Ne went by in a blur. I went to the school every day – sometimes I had lessons, sometimes I just hung out and watched – waiting for the wind/wave conditions to be right for me. It can be mesmerizing watching the good kiters as they skim along the water, get lifted high into the air, spin, switch directions. They make it look effortless, and I guess once you get to that level it is – but underneath it they must be hyper aware. Aware of the direction and strength of the wind, what size kite to use, where the other kiters are, how much pressure and where to put it on their boards, how fast to dip and weave their kites, always thinking ahead to the next minor move; details, details and more details. It’s amazing. Between the hotel that I stayed in, and the kite school I ended up talking with people from all over the world. England, Singapore, Australia, South Africa, Lithuania, France, Philadelphia, Denmark, Switzerland. I mostly hung out with a group of Aussies (one being a 14 year old guy who was also taking lessons, and who was at about the same level as me, despite the 20+ year age difference), and a South African couple. The husband was a devastatingly handsome land baron, and the wife was a former ballerina. A glamorous couple for sure – despite the fact that he had a potty mouth, and she spent half her time shaking her head and apologizing for him. The husband and one of the Aussie guys were like brothers-from-another-mother, and ripped on each other like teen age boys to the entertainment of whoever else happened to be around.

I spent Christmas Eve at a dinner organized through the hotel in a cozy little restaurant crammed with extra tables, spilling out into the sidewalk. The hotel owner dressed as Santa, one of the guests sang, a lone Irish guy posed as a priest and gave us a drunken blessing.

Christmas Day was spent at a dinner organized through the kite school. No pics, but a couple of sober people fell off their plastic chairs.

My last scheduled day of lessons I was finally out in the water alone with my instructor watching from the beach. My task was to get up on my board and kite solo from where I started on the beach, to the finishing spot at the other end, with my instructor watching from the shore. First attempt – got up on the board, stayed up for a bit, then fell. I lost my board in the fall and had to body drag with the kite trying to back to my board. I body dragged back and forth, back and forth, trying to spot my board in between the waves – until next thing I knew I was at the finishing spot, and had to go back to shore, shamed, without my board. My instructor went to retrieve it, and we went back to the beginning to start again. Got out, got up…. fell down. But at least I was able to retrieve my board this time!! Got up again, fell down again. Then there I was again, at the finishing point – unable to retrieve my board again!! And so went my last day of lessons until I ran out of time. Epic fail!! Looks like after a combined 7 days of lessons across 3 continents, this kiting challenge will follow me home. More salt in my wounds – I found out my 14 year old Aussie competition was able to get up and ride on his own. Grrr……

My last night I met up with a friend of a friend who was living in Vietnam for a while. We had never met before, but after a few emails back and forth, made plans to meet for a drink. A bit like a blind date. I visited with her and her friends for a while, thinking what a small world it is these days when almost anywhere you go there will be someone you know through someone!

The next morning I would be leaving for an overnight Easy Rider trip inland to Dalat. The Easy Rider concept started years ago, as a way to see a less touristy side of the country. Basically you ride on the back of your motorcycle driver/guide’s bike between destinations, with your bag strapped down behind you, driving through the countryside, and stopping along the way. With that in mind I tried to lighten my load, and purged clothes, sunscreen, padded bike shorts – trying unsuccessfully to get down to one bag. Sorry driver, it’ll be me plus my two bags.

After 4 short days in Saigon I was headed back to the beach – the Con Dao Islands. By this point being on the move every couple of days for months (with a few exceptions) was beginning to lose its appeal. On the one hand there is so much I want to see, but on the other hand it would be really nice to unpack my backpack for a while, have some familiar faces to talk with and not think about where I’m going next, transportation, and accommodation. Tough life right? At least I would have 6 days in Con Dao.

The Con Dao Islands are a chain of 15 islands off the South East coast of Vietnam, and held military prisons during the French and American wars. The prisons were notoriously brutal with tiny caged cells, and a reputation for torture. Due to the isolation and nature of what went on there, the islands were left largely unspoiled with 80% left as protected areas containing forests, coral reefs, and marine life (including sea turtles and dugongs). I had read that it would be expensive since everything had to be shipped in, and that service and accommodation standards were low for the price. It has only recently started to catch on as an international tourist destination, which of course made me more curious….

The only way to get there is to fly, or take a 12 hour ferry from Vung Tau. I opted for the flight. I left in the afternoon, and was joined by one of the girls that had been staying in my dorm. To be honest I was surprised when she said she wanted to come. She had seemed a bit stand offish, and had a habit of making faces at me when I spoke. I found out later she had a hard time understanding what I was saying. (Me? She had a hard time understanding me?!) She said it sounded like I was speaking with gum in my mouth. But she wanted to go diving, so I guess she was willing to get over it.

I left my big backpack at the hostel, and brought only my carry-on as we ran to catch the bus to the airport. At check in there was a bit of a mishap involving some of my toiletry items being too large to carry on. My friend agreed to put them in the bag she was checking, but in hindsight I wish she hadn’t. She spent the next hour and a half having a near panic attack about what kind of illegal, dangerous items I had made her responsible for in my toiletry bag. Ugh.

That evening my travel partner and I separated, and I checked into my room on the beach. I fell asleep to the sound of waves outside my door again. I missed that.

I woke up the next morning and went for a walk to explore the town. I walked along the waterfront, and took in the beach, mountains, and fishing boats. I spotted a round boat for the first time. It is essentially a large basket floating on top of the water, propelled by the driver waving an oar around in the water in front of the boat. How this was invented was beyond me!

I walked through the town, to the park office just outside of town to ask about hikes. My first impressions as I walked around – the natural parts were beautiful, but the town was…..sleepy? There were some hotels, restaurants, a couple of local shops, a small market, a park. Not to mention clean paved streets, intersections and cars. A strange contrast of developed and undeveloped. Even though the infrastructure was there, there really didn’t seem to be that many people, and not much to do. It almost had a feeling of a semi sterile ghost town. Maybe it was because of the grey weather, maybe it was the time of year. People tend to visit Con Dao when the conditions for diving are better (March to September), or to see the sea turtles nesting/hatching (May to November).

For lack of anything better to do I spent the rest of the day at my hotel reading. The girl I came with from Saigon stopped by after her dive, and we made plans to go for a hike together the next day. We left early the next morning, picked up lunch along the way, and set out into the forest. The hike was steep, and we came across all kinds of critters along the way – birds, giant spiders, crabs, something that looked like a millipede, huge geckos, black squirrels. By the time we reached the empty park station at the top of the mountain we were breathless. We followed the trail around the building and were greeted by a couple of curious monkeys. We clutched our lunches protectively as they hopefully eyed us and our bags. One by one more monkeys appeared, forming an eerie monkey posse inching closer and closer. I laughed and stared, but we weren’t about to share our food so we picked up the pace and kept walking. As we continued our hike to the beach on the other side of the island, the trail became less and less clear. How we managed to stay on it I’m not quite sure, but I’ll give my travel partner the credit.

We stopped at a beach full of washed up coral, and then continued on to Ong Dung Bay. We assessed the rocky beach and debated going for a swim. My mind was made up when it started to rain – if I was going to get wet anyway, I might as well be in the ocean. My partner was not interested. She said she didn’t like to swim in rocky areas where you couldn’t see the bottom because you could step on something and cut your foot. I stared blankly. We hiked all this way, it was hot – I was going in the water. With her words in mind I walked cautiously over the rocks, and then swam out, lazing in the warm ocean. Looking back towards the island the view was stunning! I immediately wished I had my camera, and swam back to get it. I teetered along the rocks as I walked back to shore, and waved to my friend smiling. Then….sh-t!! Searing pain shot through my heel as I lost my balance and fell forward. With tears in my eyes I continued hobbling along until I could lift my foot out to inspect. I cringed when I could finally lift it above water to see the blood pouring from a gash that went from the bottom of my heel up along the side. Damn it. She was right. I walked back grumpy, borrowed some antiseptic, wrapped my foot in tissue and painfully put my sneakers back on for the walk back to town. At least she had the good grace to be sympathetic and not to say “I told you so”.

The next 4 days were uneventful. I laid on the beach, read, visited the restaurants. The menus were pages and pages long, but when I tried to order I began to understand the reputation for questionable service. On average out of all my meals, at least two of the items I tried to order were not available. One time my hotel restaurant just said they were closed entirely, and wouldn’t reopen until the following day. As I left to find another restaurant my waiter/friend came to bring me back, and said they would serve me. Except 3/4 of the dishes I tried to order were unavailable. I really couldn’t do anything but laugh, and eat whatever he could pull together for me.

I had hoped to go on a snorkeling boat trip, but they didn’t go out while I was there due to poor visibility. On my last day I finally rented a bike, and rode around the island. I wish I had done it sooner!! I was able to take in more of the island, the coast was overwhelming, and it was good to get some exercise (even with my injured foot). The ride was hilly which was a bit of a challenge since my bike didn’t have gears, and the brakes were dangerously close to bare. No problem – I rode the flat, and part way up the hills. When my legs tired out I took in the view as I walked the rest of the way up the hills, and then part way down so I didn’t burn the brakes out. I think I ended up walking almost as much as I rode!

I left the next day a little anxious about my day of travel. I would be flying back to Saigon, and catching a bus to Mui Ne. The anxiety part came in because my flight was pushed back by 5 hours, leaving me with just a half an hour to get from the airport to the bus. Once again Con Dao was providing an exercise in patience and flexibility! It’s a beautiful place if you can maintain your sense of humor, and don’t mind spending some quality alone time….

Vietnam travel curse broken! An entirely uneventful bus ride to Saigon. I arrived at my guest house down a narrow, bustling alley in Pham Ngu Lao. The neighborhood is backpacker central in Saigon with guest house after mini hotel after guest house down the alleys and main streets. Travel offices, restaurants, people walking around selling lottery tickets, sunglasses and lighters. After 3 weeks in beaches and smaller towns, city energy felt exciting again. I walked around for a while that evening, and oriented myself in my new neighborhood.

The next day I decided to spend visiting the Cholon area (China Town). Now that I had my appetite back, I was looking forward to trying some of the street food, and stopped for lunch at one of the make-shift restaurants in my alley. I chose one of the typical outdoor “cafes” with a little stove, and child size plastic tables and chairs. I played it safe with an order of fresh spring rolls, and then bought a couple of cookies for the bus ride from another lady selling homemade pastries. The cookies were…..strange. One had a faint garlic taste.

The last stop on the bus was Cholon, and I turned around for a while with my street map open trying to figure out where I was, and how to get to the Binh Tay market. Turns out it was only 3 blocks away.

The market was crazy! Similar to the markets in Cambodia, but much bigger. A two story building with an open courtyard in the center. Stands were set up according to product category with sections for food, silk flowers, shoes, household supplies, beauty products, and half of the proprietors asleep on the job. Lots and lots of dried seafood. I never knew there could be so many varieties of dried shrimp.

From there I walked around visiting a couple of pagodas. Trying to find the pagodas turned out to be more interesting than the pagodas themselves. Timing traffic to dodge the motos as you cross the street, the random things along the way, the conversation of gestures and pointing when trying to ask people for directions. I had heard that people were more reserved in Vietnam, but almost everyone I saw along the way would smile back or laugh at me. There was so much going on!

Kids making a game of throwing 1 shoe each:

Once you find the pagodas, you just wander around watching people pray, light incense (always in big bunches or 3s), leave offerings – and then leave when you’re bored, or after the incense smoke starts to make your eyes water.

Then the bus back to my neighborhood, and a stop for pho on the way home. Delicious AND entertaining. Throw in a little of this leaf, some sprouts, some of this mystery sauce from the squeeze bottle, some lime, and continuing to change it up as you eat.

The next day I went on a day trip to the Cu Chi tunnels. It was a 2 hour drive to the tunnels, but the tour guide talked a mile a minute the whole way. He answered a couple of things I’d been wondering about.
– “What do Vietnamese people think of Americans”? He said mostly the young people have the attitude that the war was in the past, and they just want to live a happy life. There is still some tension for some of the older generation since they remember the war (particularly in the North).
– “Why do some of the men have really long pinky nails”? Vietnamese like things to be a certain way, and are superstitious. They believe that if the top of your pinky reaches the first knuckle of the neighboring finger it’s good luck. How do you fix it if you fall short? Grow your pinky nail long to make up the distance.
– “Why do some men have a couple of random long hairs growing out of their clean shaven faces”? Good luck. Particularly if growing out of a great big mole.

We finally got to the Cu Chi tunnels. Interesting to walk around and hear about how people lived, hunched over in these tunnels for years. How they solved the problems you may not think about – cooking, going to the bathroom, private “romantic” couple time. The movie intro when we first got there got a little uncomfortable as it talked about citizens being given “American Killer” awards after the Vietnam war. I tried to look inconspicuous. Awkward….

We walked through one of the tunnels that was left at its original size, and even I was feeling a little claustrophobic. All 5 foot 4 inches of me could barely fit squat-walking through there. I couldn’t help but imagine how rank it must have gotten with the heat and moisture in the rainy season.

When I got back from the trip, I met a couple of new girls in my dorm, and the four of us went out for dinner at a market that night. I went for drinks with one of the girls at this bar that would have fit in perfectly in the West Village, NYC, with antique cabinets, a beautiful old bar, and a deer head mounted on the wall. From there we went to a swanky rooftop bar with delicious overpriced drinks, and an incredible view of the city. To put into perspective – the price of the drinks was more than the average Vietnamese person makes in a day.

My last day in Saigon I went with a couple of my roommates to visit the War Remnants Museum. I struggled with this one a bit. Obviously it was presented from the Vietnamese perspective, and America was the evil invader. Which there was truth to. I was embarrassed and ashamed of some facts – the use of chemical weapons (particularly agent orange), and how they destroyed the lives of multiple generations with severe deformities and mental disabilities. The indiscriminate attacks on entire villages, wiping out literally everything and everyone. On the other hand, I was really disappointed by what was left out. The fact that it in some ways it was also a civil war, with Vietnamese killing and torturing other Vietnamese. The millions imprisoned and sent to re-education camps after the fall of Saigon. The hundreds of thousands of boat people that fled the country not sure if they would survive, but figured they had a better shot than if they stayed in Vietnam. I was left feeling emotional, but like only a half history was represented. That it could have been a much more powerful experience if it was a thorough, honest examination of a terrible history from all sides.

After that, I went to the mall. Yes, that’s right – I spent my last evening in Saigon in the mall. I really needed was some new T shirts and tank tops….

There’s so much going on in the city, and a different photo op every 5 minutes. Notice the guy asleep across the top of his motorcycle? They nap in that position all the time!

After Koh Rong I overnighted in Sihanoukville, and hit the road again first thing in the morning. This time I had a relatively short bus ride with no Jackie Chan movies. Only Cambodian melodramatic music videos about doomed relationships. I was headed for Chi Phat, another eco-tourism project – this one in the Southern Cardamom Mountains. The Cardamom Mountains are mostly unexplored tropical rainforest, that are one of the few remaining homes to Asian Elephants, Indochinese Tigers, and other endangered species of bears, gibbons and crocodiles. This is another area where heavy logging, and poaching were threatening the environment. Locals were facing severe poverty, and were doing the best they could with the resources available to them. Unfortunately that meant robbing from their futures, as the rainforest and wildlife populations they were depending on were being depleted. The project started there about 5 years ago, and has become a model for, and the most successful of the ecotourism projects in Cambodia. And it deserves its reputation.

I called ahead to let them know I was coming, and a guy was waiting at the bus stop with a sign with my name on it. We boarded a small boat for the hour long ride to the village. As we set off there were barges and bull dozers, but as we went further on we left it all behind. Instead only small boats, canals through the exposed tree roots on the riverside, and small homes.

Once we stopped I walked into the village, past a couple of local restaurants, snack stands and shops. I couldn’t help being relieved by the complete lack of hawkers and usual souvenirs. The office and hub for all things project related is right in town, and has eating and lounging areas. I visited with some other people just coming back from a 3 day trek, and then was greeted by one of the English speaking ladies in charge. There are a couple different options for sleeping from home stay, to guest house, to ecolodge. I was staying in the ecolodge, but if I had chosen one of the other two options I would have been assigned lodging then. There are several families in the village that want to take part, so they make a point of equally rotating the visitors. With accommodation out of the way, I flipped through the book of available activities to choose how I would spend my time here. You could go out on a boat fishing or bird watching, you could go trekking or mountain biking, there were one day options or multi day camping options. I decided to join up with a German couple next to me, and we chose a one day hike to a waterfall. It all ran like clockwork.

From there, on to the eco-lodge. No romantic bungalow this time, just a very basic private room. Meet the fellow that found his way into my bathroom overnight.

The next morning I went for noodle breakfast at the office, packed my water and lunch, and left with the Germans and our guide for the trek. As we walked I noticed several of the houses had small signs in front welcoming tourists, and displaying their status as home stay. People were mostly friendly, and smiled or nodded as we passed. Some of the kids would wave and shout “hello-goodbye” as if it were one word. As we got away from the village the sun was relentless and I drank bottle after bottle of water. I had bought a sun hat like the Cambodians wear, with a wide brim and cape trailing down the back to cover my neck – and even that couldn’t protect me. We walked by 4 or 5 rickety bridges. My foot went right through one of them. With my catlike reflexes, and fear of heights I managed to save myself.

By the time we arrived it was midday, and I was drenched in sweat. That waterfall was the only thing that kept me going for the last 45 minutes, but it was worth it!

After a swim, lunch and catnap we headed back to the village. On the way we stopped to watch this lady. She was hard at work husking rice with a flat basket while everyone else in her family lazed in the shade. Then sampled some of her husbands rice wine before we continued on.

By mid afternoon I had finished all my waters, plus two extras the guide had brought. My hip sockets and lower back ached, and I definitely felt blisters on my feet. When we got back to the office I belatedly thought to ask how long this hike was. Oh, just 20 miles. No wonder my body felt battered. I had a coffee to keep me awake until dinner, and then promptly fell asleep sitting upright on the couch. I was in bed by 8:30 that night.

I only had 2 days left before my Cambodia visa expired, so I had to go back to Sihanoukville the next day. This time I took a ferry to the other side of the river, and then a moto to the bus stop.

In Sihanoukville I shared a tuk-tuk back with a couple of British girls, and a German doctor that had just arrived in Cambodia. He hadn’t planned much for his trip, and was hoping to meet people along the way to give him pointers, so he drilled me for suggestions. He stopped by to visit a little later, and we chatted for a while. Among the topics – the Federal Reserve. I don’t know what it is, but this was the second well educated foreigner I met in a week that was convinced that the Federal Reserve is a for-profit, private bank. After a debate involving Wikipedia and conspiracy theories, he wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t. This was followed by a very persistent offer of massage, and proposal to spend a beautiful night together. Did I mention there was no alcohol involved, and he was much older than me? Creeper. I was grateful for my room in a sterile hotel with security and good locks.

In the morning, another bus. This time to the border of Vietnam, into the Mekong Delta, and to the city of Can Tho. What was supposed to be a standard trip on two long distance buses, turned into 2 AC buses on the Cambodia side with a stop for coffee, then the border, then a van to a local bus without AC. I was going with it at this point. We drove past rice field after rice field. Some local ladies working the fields got on in a swarm, brought a laugh riot, then got off 15 minutes later. All was good until I started to have to go to the bathroom. Finally we stopped, and were ushered to another bus. I asked to used the bathroom with my guidebook translator, and got screamed at in Vietnamese, followed by violent gestures which I took to mean “Get your ass on the bus, we’re leaving now!!”. Again no AC, stopping every 15 minutes to pick up or drop off, no breaks, and this time people smoking out the windows. I sat at an angle the rest of the way to Can Tho to take pressure off my bladder. If it wasn’t for the fact that I sweat the whole time, I probably would have wet my pants. By the time we got there I had spent 12 hours in transit without food. The last 6 hours without AC or a bathroom break.

I finally got to my hotel and into private AC room. My room service order got lost, so I ended up having two bottles of 7-up for dinner. Turned out to be a blessing, because relaxed in the comfort of my room, I developed stomach issues. I hadn’t eaten anything all day – how was this possible?! Oh yeah, I had a coffee with ice at the border. I made it all the way through India without Delhi Belly, and I got hit in Vietnam.

Next day – mostly sick in my hotel room, with only short excursions around the neighborhood.

Can Tho is a small city, and there really isn’t much to see there. The primary reason to go is to use it as a jumping off point for exploring around the Mekong Delta, taking a boat tour, or visiting the floating markets. Since I only had one day left I chose the floating markets, and left bright and early the next morning (5:30). The markets get going at 6, and start to wrap up well before noon. On the way to our boat I asked my tour guide (a college student whose name I’m embarrassed to say I can’t remember) if we could get a take-away coffee. She was happy to, but made me wait at the corner so she didn’t get charged tourist prices. With coffee in hand we boarded our boat, and set off down the river.

Pic of our boat driver. Notice how covered up she is? It’s easily in the 90+ degrees here. That’s how a lot of the ladies dress. Often the only visible skin on their body is the sliver between their hat brims, and their surgical masks. They try to keep their skin as white as possible.

We drove past the larger floating market Cai Rang (which was supposed to have as many tourists as locals), and stopped for breakfast at a local floating cafe. My guide ordered us two bowls of noodle porridge. In addition to the noodles and porridge, it had what looked like beat colored tofu and calamari. After several bites I realized that neither was what I thought it was. I asked what the tofu like stuff was she said “Do you want that I tell you?”. Yeeessss….. It was congealed blood. The circular things? Intestines. Oh. Kay. I was not prepared for that. My stomach turned, but I tried my best to remain expressionless and keep eating. My stomach didn’t fully recover for the rest of the day.

After breakfast we went to the smaller floating market Phong Dien. My guide explained along the way that most of the boats only sell a couple of fruits or vegetables. The markets are packed tight with boats, and it can be hard to tell which one has the foods your looking for – so they advertise what they’re selling by tying examples on a stick and displaying it up in the air. There were pineapples, watermelon, bananas, tomatoes, green onions, coconuts, and more.

From there we stopped at a noodle making factory. They first make rice into giant pancakes, and then feed it through a slicer to cut them into noodles.

Floated through some small canals, then got out to walk by some rice fields and visit an orchard.

Couple things that came up along the way:

– Most of the boats have eyes painted on them like an animal.
– Most Vietnamese prefer fish as pets instead of cats or dogs. They think fish are elegant, and can be a sign of wealth since some can be quite expensive.
– Vietnamese women have no problems pattern mixing (as you can see in some of these pics)

I spent the remainder of my last day in Can Tho resting in my room, and trying to settle my stomach. Vietnam has not been easy on my digestive system so far.

Other pics from the boat ride:

I woke up early the next morning to catch a boat to Koh Rong Island. It’s about a two hour ride from Sihanoukville, and there are only a couple of boats a day (morning, and afternoon). I thought this was a good sign. If a place is difficult, fewer people will be willing to make the trip, and the ones that do are more adventurous. The adventurous part is essential, because while the island has near empty beaches and untouched forests – what they don’t have is high end accommodations. Except for the super luxe resort on a tiny neighboring island. At $1,500 a night that place was just over my budget. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of accommodation that price tag would get you?

Instead I took the normal people’s boat, to the normal people’s island. On the way I heard that they had shot a season of France’s version of Survivor there, which got me even more hopeful about finding a remote fantasy island. My imagination got the best of me as I sat on the bow of the boat, toasting in the sun and daydreaming about isolated tropical beaches. As we pulled into the dock I was a little worried. The area by the pier wasn’t quite what I had imagined. There were several little buildings one right next to the other on the shallow beach, with more under construction. What I later understood is that this is just a place to eat, sleep and socialize. The isolated beaches I was hoping for are just a boat ride or hike away. (Pic below from the rocking boat)

But for today I was sticking close to “home”. I unloaded my bag at my guest house, and went to a open air restaurant nearby to use the internet. I’ve developed a pretty consistent pattern – for every week of travel, I lose about a day to maintenance. Online bill pay, emails, researching transportation and hotels, updating my blog. Those days are bizarrely calming! I don’t have to be anywhere, or see anything, and they keep the time from passing in a blur.

(Did you notice I mentioned the word internet? On a mostly undeveloped island? They got it three months ago. Go figure.)

That night I settled in under my mosquito net, and once again fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing. The power cuts off over night so no more fan, but with a strategically placed gap between the walls and the ceiling you catch a nice ocean breeze. I woke up at one point groggy, and assumed it must be dawn with the light starting to stream in. I looked out the window, but no, no – it was just the moon and stars reflecting off the ocean. With no street lights, building lights, or any other kind of lights to detract, it was dream-like.

The next day I stopped at one of the spots on the main beach to ask about a boat trip around the island. A couple of other people had already inquired, so I tacked onto their trip, and the four of us set out about an hour later. The boat ride itself was kind of a comedy. Empty beer cans and bugs sloshing in the water beneath our feet, sleeping assistant, the smell of weed and sea air. The guy in charge explained that the boat they normally used was being repaired before the tourist peak, so they were using a different boat and driver. Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was a contact high, but I didn’t really mind – it was funny!

We rode around the back side of the island, and stopped to snorkel in front of Sok San Beach. That beach is breathtaking – blue-green water, 7 kilometers of white sand beach flanked by a small village on one end, bungalows on the other, and absolutely nothing in between. Unfortunately the visibility in the water wasn’t good so we hopped back in the boat, and went to the village for lunch. Note the small white boat in the pic? Made of styrofoam. Styrofoam does float after all…

We went for a walk through an inlet behind the village to a waterfall.

Then on to another tiny island just before sunset. The island’s only inhabitants are a couple of monks, and they watched us watching them for a couple minutes before we jumped into the water. Again the visibility was poor, and we didn’t have much time before the sunset, but you could tell it was full of life! Tons of shadowy fish, coral, and some other thing floating on top of the water with suckers on it. On a better day with clear water it would have been incredible.

I spent the next couple of days hanging out with whoever came along. A couple people from the boat ride, a Ukranian girl, a guy who was camping down the beach, a couple of girls who arrived while I was there, and decided to stay and work for a while in exchange for room and board. A lot of people do that here – on the way to somewhere, but extending their stay in a version of paradise. The island is not for the high maintenance traveller – no Starbucks, no nightclubs, no 24 hour power, there’s no avoiding bugs and dodgy toilets, and if you have a medical emergency you’re kind of screwed. That leaves only the type of people who don’t mind roughing it, and can’t believe how lucky they are to have found a place like this. There is a sense of camaraderie that goes along with that, and you find yourself talking to whoever is next to you.

I forgot to mention one of the first things I noticed when I got to the island! Mustaches. Lots and lots of mustaches. Thankfully this was explained by a sign at my go-to restaurant. “Mo-vember”. They were growing their ‘staches to raise money for the village clinic. My last day there was the end of Mo-vember, and they were having a party as a final fundraiser. Mustaches hanging everywhere, and those without a home-grown ‘stache had one painted on. Including the ladies….

I spent every second I could on the island the next day, and took the 4pm boat back to Sihanoukville. I had two hours to think about what I was leaving, and wondering if I would ever be able to see it the same way again. The island has been marked for major development. Resorts, casino, airport, golf course – the works. From the developers website “Koh Rong is a wilderness, and will be completely master planned”. I prefer the wild Koh Rong.

Thanksgiving!! I had a day full of share taxi travel from Sen Monorom to Phnom Penh, and then Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville. Quicker than the bus at least! Normally in the share taxis they sit 2 people in the front seat, and 4 in the back. Of a 4 door Camry. I happily paid double to have the front seat to myself.

I was headed for Otres Beach in Sihanoukville, which I heard was the nicest beach, and more laid back. I was looking forward to a nice $20 a night bungalow on the beach! The only potential hitch was that there aren’t as many sleeping options there, so I called a bunch during the drive to make sure I at least had somewhere for the first night. Booked, booked, booked. Uh oh. I resorted to my back up plan, and called the only more expensive place on the beach ($80 a night). Not only did they have an open bungalow, but they were also serving Thanksgiving Dinner!

By the time I arrived in Sihanoukville it was around 5. After 2 weeks watching Cambodians overload their motos, I felt no shame as I loaded myself and my bags onto the back of a tiny moto, and headed straight to Otres Beach. As we drove through Sihanoukville I was worried. I had heard it was a tourist trap, and it was. Multi-story hotels, Casino, traffic, sunburned people everywhere. We drove about 10 minutes before we got to Otres, and it was hard to believe it could be part of the same place. Just one dirt/sand street off the beach, stand alone bungalows, and 1-2 story restaurants and guest houses. Thank god. We drove through the small main area, past an empty white sand beach, and to an area further down the beach where there were a few more places. Mine was at the very end.

Wow! The property was not that big (only 10 bungalows), you really were away from the Sihanoukville madness, and on a near empty beach at that location. I checked out the hotel and my bungalow. Swimming pool! AC! Toiletries! Private enclosed outdoor shower off my bathroom! It wasn’t luxury by American standards, but after recently spending a night in a hammock next to livestock, it sure felt like it!!

Next stop – Thanksgiving Dinner. I walked to the restaurant area, and talked to the owner who was from Texas. With an accent! I was feeling right at home as I sat down beachside with a glass of wine and my plate of turkey, cranberry, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, salad (you have no idea how much I’ve missed salad). And for desert – pumpkin pie, and mango cobbler!! The mango cobbler was obscene. The only thing that kept me from eating the whole thing was the other 25+ people I was supposed to be sharing it with. Among those people – Americans, Italians, Swiss, French, British. And a man that looked like Jesus with long dark hair and a long beard. And eyeliner. And a flowy shirt with floral embroidery.

As much as I wanted to spend the next week right where I was, I couldn’t justify the price if there were cheaper options. The next morning I walked the half hour down the beach to the first area where most of the bungalows were, and started asking about availability. I settled on the nicest of the beach front private bungalows, which was owned by Italians. It had a shared bathroom, a mosquito net, and a fan for $12 a night. I went straight back to use the pool at my other place before I checked out, moved, and then spent the rest of the day on the beach.
Couple of things I should mention about Otres Beach – for starters, as I understand it most of the places there don’t own the land, and are leasing with the understanding that they may be kicked out if someone with big money comes in to develop. Thus the budget bungalows – nobody is going to invest too much in something they may lose. Second – the only water available either comes from wells, or is trucked in. This means that everyplace on the beach (except my $80 a night place) has sandy colored water in the showers and toilets. Third – none of the places are allowed to add toilets to their bungalows if they don’t already have them. So a bungalow with it’s own toilet is a treat! Fourth – it’s rapidly changing. There is building all over the place, and there’s a giant a new resort that looks close to completion at the start of the beach. But for now it is a laid back, budget friendly place with basic beach front bungalows. The type of place you can kick back and go shoeless for a couple of days. Which I did when someone stole my flip flops. I inherited a new pair a couple days later though, so it was fine.

At the main part of Otres Beach there’s always a few ladies walking the beach selling fruit and giving massages, pedicures etc. I got a manicure pedicure from a sassy girl (yes I know it’s not hygienic). It’s completely normal for one lady to be working, have her friend stop for a chat, and then start helping out while they’re talking. So I had my sassy lady doing my feet and another lady doing my hands. They also get a little territorial. Once you have a fruit lady, or massage lady they remember you. If you go to someone else you’re cheating on them.

That night I fell asleep to the sound of waves right outside my door. In the middle of the night (and every night while I was there) it down-poured. Which was not convenient for the shared bathroom. First thing in the morning I went to ask if there was a room available with a bathroom inside.

Later that morning I went to the bungalows next door to start kitesurfing lessons. There is one guy (IKO certified) giving lessons with a couple of kites, and a boat. Good thing about the boat – we had an off shore wind, which will take a beginner right out to sea with no way back since you don’t know how to go upwind. There were a couple of Australians who had started the day before, so they would go first in the morning while I rode in the boat, and then I would go in the afternoon. The boat by the way – the instructor and his buddy built themselves.

I watched the other guys, watched the instructor get angry and yell at them when they messed up, then his face morph from annoyance to patience as he said “it’s ok”. Over and over again. It rained in the afternoon – so no lesson for me.

Next day – back for my kitesurf lesson. The Aussies went in the morning/early afternoon, and got yelled at while I watched. Then the wind died completely. No lesson for me. Again. Nothing to do about it but get drinks at the bar, and play darts and connect four with the Aussies.

I was hoping to have a full week of lessons, and my days were slowly chipping away. At this rate I would only have time for 2 days worth. It’s hard to make any progress with one or two days of lessons at a time. Plus I didn’t want to be yelled. The next day I told the instructor I was out.

The days went too quickly! I relaxed on the beach, was entertained by the kids selling bracelets, visited with my beauty ladies, my fruit lady braided my hair everyday, saw the Jesus looking guy from Thanksgiving a couple of times.

Before I knew it, a week had gone by, and it was my last day in Otres Beach. That afternoon I sat at the bar for a while researching Vietnam. While flipping back and forth between my Ipad and Lonely Planet book, I noticed the guy sitting next to me doing the same thing. I asked if he was researching where he was going next, and he said no, he was working. With a Lonely Planet book? What was he working on? Updating one of the Lonely Planets. He was also one of the two writers of the Lonely Planet Cambodia. So much good info!! If only I met him 3 weeks ago!!

I ended up talking to the new owner of one of the neighboring places. She was from San Francisco, and had just bought the place and moved 6 weeks ago. She introduced me to her friend, who had lived in Otres Beach for 2 years, and also happened to be friends with the Lonely Planet guy. The tourists come and go, but these people had a small community. I listened to them talk about everybody’s business for a while, and then went up to the bar to settle my tab for the week. I wondered if maybe I should stay a couple of more days….? It was so relaxed here, my fruit lady did my hair everyday for free, and I had met a really cool group of people. But no, I had 3 days on a practically deserted island I was looking forward to. And then Jesus spoke to me. Long hair, beard and eyeliner Jesus! I was so excited, like he was a celebrity. I was so excited I only talked for a minute, and then ran off. Why? I don’t know.

Tomorrow – Koh Rong!

I left in the morning for Mondulkiri in the East. There is no train system in Cambodia, and there aren’t that many airports either, so most long distance travel involves a bus, taxi or share taxi. I was picked up at my hostel, and at the bus station by 5 am. Thank god for the enterprising Cambodian lady selling fruit and baguettes in front of the bus station that early. Who else is on the streets at that hour? Lady-boys apparently. Some still drunk British boy walked down the street looking for a “7-Eleven” (really?!?!), and came back arm in arm with a lady-boy. I was annoyed with him already, so seeing him clearly uncomfortable made me smile. Once on the bus we drove about 4 1/2 hours to Kompong Cham, got off and waited a couple hours for the transfer to the Sen Monorom bus. All in all – 12 hours in transit, 2 Jackie Chan movies.

I took a moto from the bus stop in Sen Monorom over a rickety wood plank bridge to my hotel. The hotel was an eco-lodge, so I expected it would be a little more rustic than your average hotel, but it was quite nice. It consisted of a restaurant/lounge area, and a bunch of bungalows sprinkled across the property. I had splurged and booked myself a “romantic bungalow”, with a built up platform for the bed, mosquito net, en suite bathroom with shower, and hot water (no that does not go without saying in Cambodia). The food was good, there was wifi in the common area. What more could a girl ask for?

The next morning I left for the first of three days with a local community based tourism project. The project is a partnership with Cambodia’s Forest Administration, the WWF and a minority Phnong village. The Phnong are the largest minority in Cambodia, speak their own language, have their own traditions, and practice animism. The community taking part in the project lives within a 988,400 acre protected forest (which has seen heavy logging and hunting). The project was created in an effort to preserve the forest, give the community a vested interest in its conservation, and a source of income. Sounded good to me!

For my first day I was signed up to go walking with elephants. I had visited an elephant rescue park in Thailand a couple of years ago, and spent the day feeding, walking and bathing elephants. Part of the day was also spent learning how the training, working and riding conditions can be very abusive. It was one of the most memorable things I’ve ever done, so I was really excited. Foolish of me for thinking this would be similar! We got to the village, and the guy from the project dropped me off with a couple of elephant mahoots, and two elephants with saddles on ready to be ridden. Noo noo noo!! I’m no expert, so I didn’t want to give a speech about why we shouldn’t ride – and who knows, they could have worked in a way that didn’t hurt them. I just said I preferred to walk.

One of the traditional houses in the town.

My view on the hike.

We stopped at a river while the elephants were sent off to eat, and then the mahoots gave them a bath.

By this point the English guy with his two Khmer speaking companions had kind of taken the lead since they could communicate with the mahoots, and they asked if we could head back early. On the way back it was even more muddy, and my flip flop broke – leaving me walking barefoot in the mud.

We ended back at the village early, the other guys left for their next stop, and I sat on a bench for 45 minutes waiting to be picked up. The villagers were going about their business around me, but no one was interacting with me. I was more than a little disappointed with my day, cranky with the guy from the project for leaving me without someone who could understand me, and sick of waiting. Finally a lady came out of the house across the street, and asked in English if I wanted to come over. Yes!!! I sat down at a table inside with two older guys (her father and grandfather) while she worked around us, with her baby in tow. After about 15 minutes of staring at me with giant saucer eyes, the baby then started crying every time he looked at me.

The men offered me beer (which I correctly expected I would be paying for), and cheers-ed me every 2 minutes. The older of the two men kept speaking to me in Phnong, and cracking everyone up. She translated as best she could, but she must not have translated everything because he spoke and laughed A LOT. I think he was having a little fun at my expense…. He asked how old I was? Was I married? Children? She translated for me, and Phnong conversation followed. Finally she said to me “He says why are you 25 and not married”. “35” I said, and “just not lucky I guess”. With family being so important in their culture, I figured it was easier to understand than saying I hadn’t met the right person yet. She told him and he acted concerned. She translated back for me “Would you marry a Cambodian guy?”. I responded with a grin “Is he offering to be my husband?” She translated back to him, and he almost fell of his chair laughing. Maybe laughing a little too hard – marrying me isn’t THAT funny. He said “No, but I may have a brother for you”. After two beers and some comedy I was in a much better mood when the guy from the project came to pick me up. I decided not to tell him about my previous disappointment – my unrealistic expectations were not his fault, and I ended up slightly buzzed and having a great time. As we were driving away the guy told me the grandfather was the chief of the village.

The next day I was back for round 2 with the project. This time I would be spending a couple of days hiking with one of the project’s English speaking villagers (Nara), and overnighting with one of the families. I left my big backpack with the lodge, brought only the essentials in a small bag, and was prepared with real shoes this time. We set off together for our 5 hour hike through the forest. The forest was thick with growth more like a jungle, and after about an hour carrying that bag I was reevaluating what I qualified as essential. We hiked to a waterfall, and ate lunch underneath.

As we walked in the jungly parts Nara stopped every couple of minutes to pick out leeches that got onto his sandled feet. I was a little better off with my sneakers, but they still got my ankles every once in a while. Leeches are a first for me. I always thought they were big, but these were like rice sized slugs. Once Nara figured out I wasn’t a legit bad-ass backpacker he started teasing me about what was in the forest. Every noise we heard, every time I had to go to the bathroom – he reminded me of the tigers, bears and snakes.

A couple more waterfalls we visited. 3 in total. Nara swinging from a vine in one.

We finally made it to where we would be spending the night – a simple one room home. There were a couple of ladies and about 5 children outside as we walked up. Nara tried to teach me some Phnong on the way, but it kept getting confused with my new Khmer words. I managed hello, and that was about it. We went inside and all looked around awkwardly for a minute before everyone went back to their chores, leaving me to take it all in.

Both ladies lived in the house which was one open room. About 1/5 of it was a cooking/food prep area, and 3 out of 4 walls had a platforms built out that were about 1 1/2 feet above ground. As the women worked they passed mothering duties back and forth, and I had a hard time figuring out whose children belonged to who. Two of the kids that fought constantly were the most entertaining. The 4 year old girl would have something, and the 2 year old girl would try to take it away, then have a temper tantrum. This would cause the 4 year old to run outside of the house to get away, then turn to me and put her finger over mouth to shush me so I didn’t tell where she went, and the 2 year old would run around the house with the craziest brattiest expression on her face. Over and over and over.

I went outside, played soccer with the 4 year old, and walked around a bit. They were the only house in the immediate area, although there were a couple more just out of eyesight. They had a garden, and several cows, pigs, chickens and dogs roaming around. Otherwise, that was it. Pretty simple. I asked Nara about the bathroom, and he said “Jungle. Tigers. Haha.”.

The father came home around sunset, and Nara and I shared dinner and a water bottle full of home-brew rice wine. The generator kicked on and the ladies continued working – they cut and boiled banana tree trunk for the pigs, cooked dinner for themselves, laid out their sleeping mats on the platforms, and cleaned the babies ears with a reed. The generator cut off about 8, and I zipped myself into my mosquito net hammock for the night. Another first for me.

I actually slept pretty well in my hammock that night. All 10 of us in the house, plus the dogs, chickens and pigs under the platforms. I’m not sure about the pigs – they at least sounded like they were under there.

Everyone was up and back to work at sunrise. Most everyone left before I remembered to take a picture, so I only got a picture of one of the ladies, and the uncooperative 2 year old.

On our hike back to the village Nara found two huge snails and stashed them in his bag for later. When we stopped for a swim in the river he caught a fish, and that went in the backpack as well. For the last two days I heard chainsaws in the distance which I thought was odd for a protected forest. As we walked that day we saw at least five chopped trees, and a bunch of guys with a trailer to haul away the logs. Logging may be illegal, but there is not much being done to stop it from what I saw.

Back at my lodge I jumped straight into the shower, and spent the next day and a half relaxing, and trying to figure out how to get directly from Sen Monorom to Sihanoukville. The answer is – you can’t. You have to take a bus/taxi to Phnom Penh first.

Mr. Ny picked me up Wednesday morning, we went to get my bike and hit the road. Just me and Mr. Ny for the next 3 days. Mr. Ny is in his early 20s, soft spoken, kind, a little shy, and on the petite side (making me look huge and clumsy). He’s been studying English for 3 months while he works full time as a mechanic for the tour company, and this was his first solo trip with a customer to Preah Vihear. I heard he was a little nervous (love him!!). We stumbled a couple of times with the language, but I couldn’t believe how well he spoke after such a short period of time!! Other things I learned about Mr. Ny: Before he was a mechanic he had been a Buddhist monk for several years. Becoming a monk is a rite of passage for Buddhist boys in Cambodia, but most only serve for several weeks or months, not years. Also, he has tattoos in Sanskrit on his arms, neck and chest (that I could see anyway). He explained they were to keep him safe. I later looked it up online, and it says they are believed to be magic and can ward off evil and hardship. They are done with bamboo or a metal rod by Buddhist monks or magic practitioners.

We drove about 5 hours that day, on dirt roads for a good portion of it. We drove by people carrying all kinds of things on their motos – big piles of grass, whole dead pigs strapped upside down across the back with their legs bouncing in the air, baskets of animals. Some people had started harvesting the rice, and all along the roadsides there were tarps laid out with rice drying on top of them.

We visited Beng Mealea Temple. This one had even more jungle growth left on and around it, and fewer visitors than the temples closer to Angkor Wat. We climbed off the pathways, over fallen temple pieces, and into the empty rooms inside. My pictures of this one didn’t come out that impressive, so unfortunately no photos to share!

We drove up to our hotel just outside of Koh Ker as the sun was setting. Driving on my own moto all day was awesome, but I was sunburned, needed a shower, and my butt was killing me.
The hotel had a kitchen, but no menu. I ordered what sounded like a chicken stir-fry type thing. Someone went out to buy the chicken, and dinner was served about 2 hours later. They basically chopped up the whole chicken (bones and all) into bite sized pieces, and flash fried it up with ginger and lemongrass (I think). I struggled trying to get the chicken off the bone on my plate, until I saw Mr. Ny just pop in a mouthful and spit out the bones. I struggled with that too. Mostly what I ate was mango and rice. After dinner and a Jackie Chan movie, I went to bed exhausted.

In the morning we ate breakfast, and I played with this thing for a bit. I don’t know what it is, but the family that owns the hotel had caught it, and were keeping it as a pet.

We spent a couple hours exploring Koh Ker. There was literally NO ONE there when we got there – not even the guys manning the ticket booth. The Khmer Rouge mined the area pretty heavily, and you see signs at every temple about the partner country that helped sponsor de-mining. According to the Lonely Planet says “1,382 mines, and 1,447,212 pieces of exploded and unexploded ordnance were removed”.

From Koh Ker we drove about another 5 hours, stopping to eat our packed lunch literally on the shoulder of road. I made a mental note for future ordering – pork or deer does not come with bone pieces. As we finished our meal I noticed Mr. Ny had set aside one of the to-go containers with a couple pieces of meat and some rice. He explained that there were a lot of ghosts in the area, and he was leaving it for them. I wished I could have asked him more – damn the language barrier!

We overnighted in Sra Em, watched some more Jackie Chan at breakfast, and then left for Preah Vihear. Prasat Preah Vihear is a mountain temple on the border of Thailand and Cambodia, and ownership has been a source of debate between the two since at least the early 1900s. There was military conflict on and off from 2008-2011, making it periodically off limits to tourists. That coupled with the fact that the area was a Khmer Rouge strong hold until 1998, was heavily mined and wasn’t easily accessible by road meant that a lot of tourists didn’t make it out there.

We drove our motos to the foot of the mountain, and paid guys with more powerful motos to take us up the rest of the way. There were soldiers everywhere, and Mr. Ny distributed two cartons of cigarettes to them as we walked toward the entrance to the temple. After he ran out one soldier came up, shrugged and said then he’d accept candy instead. Aside from the soldiers, there were only a handful of other tourists. Mr. Ny and I walked around, and he tried to tell me a little bit about the area. The temples were beautiful of course, but what really made them spectacular was the setting. You feel high above the rest of the world, and even the sky looked naturally photoshopped.

We had barely started when were stopped by tourist police who told Mr Ny that he couldn’t walk with me since he wasn’t an official guide, so I continued on my own. After not too long Mr. Ny popped back up again! He had mentioned to the tourist officer that I had lived in Siem Reap for a year and spoke Khmer well. Ahh – since that was the case the officer let him come back and join me discreetly. Clever Mr. Ny!

We hit a couple of downpours during the drive. Not funny driving in rainstorms. From the road.

We had gotten delayed with rain, and it was dark before we got near Siem Reap. Driving in the rain is no fun. Driving in the dark on a dirt road with no street lights, and no sunglasses to protect my eyes from dirt and bugs is miserable. We pulled over at a roadside stand owned by a family Mr. Ny knew, dropped off my bike, and he drove the rest of the way to my hostel.

As we said our goodbyes Mr. Ny gave me a giant genuine hug. He apologized for his English (no, no!!!), and gave me a Khmer/English phrasebook with his email address. I felt really sad!! Mr. Ny quietly won my heart. I was going to miss him!