7:30 and Vinh Boa was a thing of the past. Valuable lesson learned, make sure to end up in a place where adequate lodging exists. Another lesson, if signs indicate your destination and the road is good, stay on it. Using my GPS where a bicycle route is not available, chances are the route will lead you away from the small village roads onto the primary roads. What are a few extra mile? GPS was full of you-know-what once again. Using my paper map and compass, I turned off onto a small road and made my way through one village after another, somewhat apprehensive as to where I was actually
headed. Sudden out of nowhere, one of the laden down motorbikes passerbys came up parallel to me and started speaking Vietnamese, motioning with her hand. We both stopped, out of a large cucumber bag, she pulled out several and stuffed them in my bar bag. Motioning that she feed me lunch I followed her for several miles down tiny roads flank by rice fields. She stopped periodically to make sure I was alright. We arrived at a small hamlet and around the corner was her very humble abode, I mean a small stone and stucco, thatched roof house that was what I thought was for livestock. Along the way she had stopped at local market stands to buy varies food items. Everyone seemed to know her. From the looks of the people, who gave me big smiles, this woman was relating to how she had found this lost American and was rescuing him. Not more than a few minutes after my arrival, the neighbors arrived, all fascinated as to who I was. Thank gog for my translation app, at least I could communicate other than using my hands. The woman gave me her name but it was so strange I couldn’t pronounce it, not could I remember it. Looking like she was in her early twenties, I learned she was forty-two with a twenty year old son. In fact, she was a farmer. Her parents were deceased and I got the feeling I was her future husband. Just so she knew, I told her I was sixty-nine. It didn’t faze her. Thinking she could communicate better, she stood about a foot away and intently jabbered at me. After about forty-five minutes, out of no where came lunch. Rice, processed meat, something I didn’t recognize and some spinach-cucumber soup. She raced off on her motorbike and returned with two cans of coca-cola. Encouraging me to eat, she kept filling up my small bowl and showing how to eat it, with chopsticks of course. We sat in dark room with the open door light shining in where we ate. We sat on these very low plastic chairs. On the Wall was a buddist alter with her parents’s and grandparents’ framed pictures. After I could eat no more, we talked as best we could and I told her I had a long way to ride and had to go. She Packed more gear onto her bike which was already a mountain of stuff and led me back to the proper route. She stopped at a very basic vegetable stand where her umbrella stood with fruit laid out just off the ground, so typical of all the farmer stands. She pointed the way just ahead. I coukdn’t thank her enough. Taking her hand I thanked her profusely. Her hands where very rough. Off I pedals, somewhat dazed about what had just happened. How could I return this kindness and generosity. She indicated how her roof leaked, Perhaps, I should come back someday and put on a new roof. It was so surreal and made a strong impression which I will never forget.
For the next three hours I rolled along, at one point passing what I believe is the furniture manufacturing center of Vietnam. A huge garish gold and red stretch of fifty foot building sold handmade wooden furniture. As I continued, there was shop after shop building amazingly ornately carved tables, chairs, statues of horses and Buddhas. There were buildings with huge logs and slabs of wood three feet wide. Mahogany or something close; obviously the forests are being stripped of these giants. Their market was probably China and USA. All day long trucks with shipping containers pass. Vietnam has become a big export country. Construction of bridges, roads and manufacturing buildings are everywhere. Let me not forgot the communist banners professing the virtues of the state and Uncle Ho. The Vietnamese red flag with a large yellow start flies everywhere.
Finally after thirty-five miles I arrived in the heart of Vinh Binh, a good size city crammed with stores with large garish neon signs. After cruising the main and side streets I found a coffee cafe, part of a four star hotel. On the internet, I located a decent hotel around the corner which did the trick. The owner even provided me with a hose to wash off the build up of mud an grim in my bike. With the misty rain and road construction mud, I was covered from the knees down. After locking my bike up in a safe in door spot, the hotel help brought my gear up to my room. What a day, I asleep by 7:30. Sleep glorious sleep.
Saturday, March 9, 2019
Friday, March 8, 2019
East is west, West is east, you can’t get there from here
Pushed off just after 8:00 from Hai Phong. Getting out of the city down the narrow roads jammed with people selling vegetables, meat, fish, flowers, you name it, was interesting. Motor bikes and cars weaving their way through in both directions with horns blaring. It was an intense scene loaded with about as much local color as you can get. Once out of the crush of humanity, I though I was headed south in the right direction. Wrong! My intent was to head south west away from the coast. Instead I deadend at Do Son and had a maddening time figuring my way out. With no internet and a misty rain blocking out the sun, I used my compass. One deadend ended up repeating itself. Finally at in a small estuary neighborhood where a few newly built upscale houses stood, a couple with WiFi was able to getting me headed in the right direction. Over a narrow levy road boarded by the estuary and rice fields, I wove my way back to where I was supposed to be headed. Through one town after another and muddy roads from construction I rolled. At one intersection I came across an open front restaurant. Pushing 1:00, the fuel tank needed filling. A young couple who could actually speak some English cooked me a stir fly with chicken soup; it was the best meal I had had Hanoi. I am not starving by any stretch but the food is far from what I used to. Forget silverware, chopsticks exclusively with an oddly shaped spoon for decanting food from one large bowl to a smaller one for holding close to your mouth for eating. I am learning. The young husband, the chef, insisted on having a picture of us both. The people here see me coming and are very friendly, especially the grammar school kids who love to say “hello” with me enthusiastically responding in kind, they love it.
Back on the road, my ride went through the rice paddies with bikers and motorbikes buzzing by carrying just about everything. One gruesome scene was that of a pig being held down, squealing horribly as a man killed it. Not a pleasant scene and no one batted an eye. At long last I arrive in Vinh Boa, a bustling city with horns blaring and chaotic traffic. Like yesterday, I pulled over at a coffee cafe to find a place to stay. The internet had zippo and with the help of the owner, with the help of my translation app, he guided me to about the only hotel in the city. One woman on motorbike led me to the place after riding back and forth past a jumble of signs. Modern but a small hotel, the room could have been cleaner but I wasn’t about to try for another place given my trying day of over fifty-five miles (a net gain from Hai Phong of twenty-five miles). A real adventure through the countryside with the misty rain at first and mud which followed. A large lunch saved me from having to forage for dinner and sleep came fast. A dog, no doubt chained up outside barked all night and the roosters tuned up around 3:00. Thank god for my air mattress, the mattresses two nights running have been one step above concrete. Onward south with a better idea of what to expect.
Back on the road, my ride went through the rice paddies with bikers and motorbikes buzzing by carrying just about everything. One gruesome scene was that of a pig being held down, squealing horribly as a man killed it. Not a pleasant scene and no one batted an eye. At long last I arrive in Vinh Boa, a bustling city with horns blaring and chaotic traffic. Like yesterday, I pulled over at a coffee cafe to find a place to stay. The internet had zippo and with the help of the owner, with the help of my translation app, he guided me to about the only hotel in the city. One woman on motorbike led me to the place after riding back and forth past a jumble of signs. Modern but a small hotel, the room could have been cleaner but I wasn’t about to try for another place given my trying day of over fifty-five miles (a net gain from Hai Phong of twenty-five miles). A real adventure through the countryside with the misty rain at first and mud which followed. A large lunch saved me from having to forage for dinner and sleep came fast. A dog, no doubt chained up outside barked all night and the roosters tuned up around 3:00. Thank god for my air mattress, the mattresses two nights running have been one step above concrete. Onward south with a better idea of what to expect.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
First real day of riding, destination Hai Phong
Starting at 6:30 Hai rode with me out of town showing me the way. Pointing out the way due east, we exchanged manly hugs and parted ways. Great guy, he was so giving of his time. Despite the language barrier, he knew enough English combined with our mutual interests and experiences for us to hit it off together. At one point I let him know I was opposed to the Vietnam war. He seemed to accept it as if he already knew.
Once on my own, I stayed on the busy highway almost the whole way. The breakdown lane was huge but I was still vigilante. With each town there were frequent motorbikes going the opposing direction. Big tractor trailers load with containers were everywhere, obviously headed for Hai Phong Harbor. With the mix of these trucks and motorbikes, there was the constant blasting as air horns. I took no chances and stayed to the far right, giving myself a heathy safety buffer. As Hanoi receded the traffic thinned. In several areas I found side roads to get me away the traffic. One road led me to a long railroad bridge with narrow lanes for bikes on either side. The guard rail was high enough but the lane was planked in wooded planks which were warped to the point of making a smooth ride next to impossible. Combining this washboard surface with a three foot wide lane forced me to get off the seat while staying on the bike; one foot on the left peddle and the other leg pushing the bike along. Making matters worse, I started off in the oncoming traffic lane. After several motorbikes barely squeezed by, a guy got off his motorbike and helped me lifted the front of the bike high enough so we could turn it around. Getting to the other side left me a bit freaked out. Though the outer railings provided protection from falling off the bridge, the height of the bridge above the water played havoc with my fear of heights.
Along the way I got curious looks with occasional enthusiastic greetings from mostly the teenagers and grammar school kids. After five hours on the road and only a ten minute break to eat a few bananas (the small ones) and two muffins Hai had given me, I pulled off to have lunch at one of the numerous hole the Wall eateries. No one spoken English and the food displayed was totally alien to me, I managed to have the cook and assistant put together a meal of rice, sautéed bean sprouts and chicken and a soup broth with spinach and some strange meat ingredient. A guy poured me what appeared to be tea with ice which I had a sip of before I realized that was a no no. Ice is made of local water which may not be clean enough to safely drink. For all of a $1:50 I ate like a god. Forget the silverware, chop sticks are it. Back on the bike I rode another hour
and a half, finally rolling into Hai Phong. Another bustling city with the same crazy traffic as Hanoi. Finding an upscale coffee house, I checked in for coffee and a chocolate pastry. With a wifi connection, I found a Hotel just a mile down the road for under twenty dollars. Decent place by a park with a nicely walked in lake. The only hitch was my fourth floor room and no elevator. The heat-on-demand shower and rock hard mattress did not win at prizes. Praise Jesus I brought my inflatable mattress. With sixty-six miles on my odometer, a long nap helped revive me enough to Allow me to find some dinner, another culinary challenge.
Tomorrow I turn south and will ride exclusively on secondarily roads. Vietnam is very different from the western developed countries that I am accustomed to but I am catching on.
Once on my own, I stayed on the busy highway almost the whole way. The breakdown lane was huge but I was still vigilante. With each town there were frequent motorbikes going the opposing direction. Big tractor trailers load with containers were everywhere, obviously headed for Hai Phong Harbor. With the mix of these trucks and motorbikes, there was the constant blasting as air horns. I took no chances and stayed to the far right, giving myself a heathy safety buffer. As Hanoi receded the traffic thinned. In several areas I found side roads to get me away the traffic. One road led me to a long railroad bridge with narrow lanes for bikes on either side. The guard rail was high enough but the lane was planked in wooded planks which were warped to the point of making a smooth ride next to impossible. Combining this washboard surface with a three foot wide lane forced me to get off the seat while staying on the bike; one foot on the left peddle and the other leg pushing the bike along. Making matters worse, I started off in the oncoming traffic lane. After several motorbikes barely squeezed by, a guy got off his motorbike and helped me lifted the front of the bike high enough so we could turn it around. Getting to the other side left me a bit freaked out. Though the outer railings provided protection from falling off the bridge, the height of the bridge above the water played havoc with my fear of heights.
Along the way I got curious looks with occasional enthusiastic greetings from mostly the teenagers and grammar school kids. After five hours on the road and only a ten minute break to eat a few bananas (the small ones) and two muffins Hai had given me, I pulled off to have lunch at one of the numerous hole the Wall eateries. No one spoken English and the food displayed was totally alien to me, I managed to have the cook and assistant put together a meal of rice, sautéed bean sprouts and chicken and a soup broth with spinach and some strange meat ingredient. A guy poured me what appeared to be tea with ice which I had a sip of before I realized that was a no no. Ice is made of local water which may not be clean enough to safely drink. For all of a $1:50 I ate like a god. Forget the silverware, chop sticks are it. Back on the bike I rode another hour
and a half, finally rolling into Hai Phong. Another bustling city with the same crazy traffic as Hanoi. Finding an upscale coffee house, I checked in for coffee and a chocolate pastry. With a wifi connection, I found a Hotel just a mile down the road for under twenty dollars. Decent place by a park with a nicely walked in lake. The only hitch was my fourth floor room and no elevator. The heat-on-demand shower and rock hard mattress did not win at prizes. Praise Jesus I brought my inflatable mattress. With sixty-six miles on my odometer, a long nap helped revive me enough to Allow me to find some dinner, another culinary challenge.
Tomorrow I turn south and will ride exclusively on secondarily roads. Vietnam is very different from the western developed countries that I am accustomed to but I am catching on.
Wednesday, March 6, 2019
Getting into the groove of things
A fitful night’s sleep had me up at 4:30. Whether it was anxiety, a rooster crowing at 3:45 or the street sweeper at 4:00, I was up for the day. Hai met me at 7:00 on the nose, whereupon we cycled off to see the out skirts of town. Being on my own bike with my eyeglass mirror made all the difference when it came to riding the streets with motorbikes streaking by in every direction. Over the Mekong Delta bridge and onto dirt patches in a tropical setting of banana and sugar cane, Hai brought me to a series of floating river houses where many of his friends lived. About as far from luxury as you can image, a real earthy bohemian life style. Mangy dogs, litter on the shoreline, cobbled together house boats and makeshift everything. One area was a men’s nudist vegetarian camp. Hai insisted I walk the narrow twenty foot planks to board several of the houses. Everyone had extensive gardens growing just about everything from sugar cane to bananas to corn.
Once back in the city, Hai took me to the Hanoi Hilton which he insisted me to see. He served forty years in the military, doing combat against the Chinese in Loas and along the Vietnam border with China. He was shot and wounded in the process. Hai is around 5’7” and in incredibly good shape, every muscle finely tuned, sixty years old and retired for four years. Next came a stop for a mid morning bowl of MY, pronounced Me, the same as I had with Dan yesterday. I am so fortunate to have made this connection; great guy, fun to be with and totally in the know about everything Vietnamese. From one unassuming little hole in the wall to another, he took me around through his world. No normal tourist would have experienced what I have. Two more stops followed, one to Hai’s favorite bicycle shop down a dark covered alley to adjust my squeaking brakes and two, the catholic cathedral built by the French. In three and a half hours, we covered a lot of territory, not to forget the insane traffic we wove through. Upon arrival back at my micro hotel, Wing Cafe, Tuyet was there to greet me. Hai, an amazing enthusiast guy, will be a great memory for me. It is difficult for me to express this experience. I am an definitely experiencing the inside track on what is happening in Old Hanoi. You have to be here to understand. Old verses new Hanoi is night and day. In the distance, I can see the high rises; apparently a new city devoid of the charm. Dan didn’t have much good to say about it.
With laundry to do, Tuyet walked with me to the local laundry, a small open front hole in the wall.
For a few dollars I had my clothes done for pickup 4:00. On our way back, I found Dan at his favorite corner cafe sketching away with his watercolors onto pages of an old book written in French. Everytime we meet, he turns to a new page and begins sketching an abstract of my face. He is so laid back but smart; our friendship is growing. At this open cafe, various friends of various nationalities, both gay and straight stop by to chat it up. Really fun!
Dan and I hit the town again, scoping out numerous city haunts. We came upon one restaurant which would be our dinner spot later in the day. Through a maze of small streets and large boulevards, he took me to an area populated with expats where we stopped for a beer at s restaurant more in keeping with the European style setting. Stopping a several stores looking for whatever we needed including art books for painting and trying find a portable WiFi which Hai carried on his bike. I may have to revisit this city to absorb all its little subdivisions of cultures.
Back to the hotel and a chat with Tuyet and then a nap. Come 5:30 we had a charming dinner at the little restaurant we came across earlier. While eating, the skies burst opened up for the first time dumping a load of rain in a short period of time. Navigating our way back around the numerous puddles had me barefoot, saving my Teva sandals. In writing my blog, Peter, the gay guy downstairs dropped by for another visit. A piece of work, a flamer from South Africa with a good sense of humor. He teaches at a local school, I imagine for expats. Tomorrow starts early as Hai will meet me at 6:30 and lead me to the outskirts of town for my ride to HyPhong about one hundred Kilometers due east. I have a bit of anxiety about what to expect but I am confident the ride will be a fun adventure.
Once back in the city, Hai took me to the Hanoi Hilton which he insisted me to see. He served forty years in the military, doing combat against the Chinese in Loas and along the Vietnam border with China. He was shot and wounded in the process. Hai is around 5’7” and in incredibly good shape, every muscle finely tuned, sixty years old and retired for four years. Next came a stop for a mid morning bowl of MY, pronounced Me, the same as I had with Dan yesterday. I am so fortunate to have made this connection; great guy, fun to be with and totally in the know about everything Vietnamese. From one unassuming little hole in the wall to another, he took me around through his world. No normal tourist would have experienced what I have. Two more stops followed, one to Hai’s favorite bicycle shop down a dark covered alley to adjust my squeaking brakes and two, the catholic cathedral built by the French. In three and a half hours, we covered a lot of territory, not to forget the insane traffic we wove through. Upon arrival back at my micro hotel, Wing Cafe, Tuyet was there to greet me. Hai, an amazing enthusiast guy, will be a great memory for me. It is difficult for me to express this experience. I am an definitely experiencing the inside track on what is happening in Old Hanoi. You have to be here to understand. Old verses new Hanoi is night and day. In the distance, I can see the high rises; apparently a new city devoid of the charm. Dan didn’t have much good to say about it.
With laundry to do, Tuyet walked with me to the local laundry, a small open front hole in the wall.
For a few dollars I had my clothes done for pickup 4:00. On our way back, I found Dan at his favorite corner cafe sketching away with his watercolors onto pages of an old book written in French. Everytime we meet, he turns to a new page and begins sketching an abstract of my face. He is so laid back but smart; our friendship is growing. At this open cafe, various friends of various nationalities, both gay and straight stop by to chat it up. Really fun!
Dan and I hit the town again, scoping out numerous city haunts. We came upon one restaurant which would be our dinner spot later in the day. Through a maze of small streets and large boulevards, he took me to an area populated with expats where we stopped for a beer at s restaurant more in keeping with the European style setting. Stopping a several stores looking for whatever we needed including art books for painting and trying find a portable WiFi which Hai carried on his bike. I may have to revisit this city to absorb all its little subdivisions of cultures.
Back to the hotel and a chat with Tuyet and then a nap. Come 5:30 we had a charming dinner at the little restaurant we came across earlier. While eating, the skies burst opened up for the first time dumping a load of rain in a short period of time. Navigating our way back around the numerous puddles had me barefoot, saving my Teva sandals. In writing my blog, Peter, the gay guy downstairs dropped by for another visit. A piece of work, a flamer from South Africa with a good sense of humor. He teaches at a local school, I imagine for expats. Tomorrow starts early as Hai will meet me at 6:30 and lead me to the outskirts of town for my ride to HyPhong about one hundred Kilometers due east. I have a bit of anxiety about what to expect but I am confident the ride will be a fun adventure.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Trial by fire
Dealing with jet lag in a strange country makes the acclimation difficult. Fortunately, Dan Potter has given me a running head start in learning the ropes. Starting off around nine we rode into the center of old Hanoi. The motor bikes clogged the street by the thousands and the rules of the road are basic: hold on and use every bit of your wits. The locals seem totally oblivious to the constant danger of everyone passing each other in all directions. Hold your ground and don’t do anything sudden. You see an opening, take it and pray everyone is on the ball. Dan goes at a leisurely pace, laid back, cutting across traffic with only the slightest opening; no rear view mirror just his zen of willing the others to yield. I am alive to talk about it.
Our first destination was to the corner open cafe where we had some expresso and watched the street fill with people carrying shallow baskets of fruit or whatever balanced on a horizontal wooden pole over their shoulders. The cone shaped cane hats you have seen so often in Chinese movie scenes. Motorbikes over ladened with five times what one would consider a reasonable load. Narrow buildings packed together of French, Chinese, and Vietnamese architecture line the narrow streets. The wiring overhead is a tangle of hundreds of wire going in every direction. Dan related to me what is done to fix a wiring problem, “just add another wire”. After coffee we had for hole in a wall restaurant where we sat on the on small plastic sidewalk stools and feasted on a delicious soup of noodles, spinach of some variety and thin slices of beef in a yellow broth. As we ate, only feet away, motorbikes, bicyclists and pedestrians clogged the narrow street. Next stop was to over sooks(sp) where whole blocks comprised hardware goods or whatever. I needed a wrench for my bike taken by the Chinese airport TSA security. Last stop was at a monstrous Russian built marble building repurposed for the arts, elderly, wherever. A friend of Dan’s, Zooie, played the guitar with another person a keyboard for a fifties and sixties women singing group, dressed in traditional dresses. Quite the event with everyone packed in a small classroom with excessively loud amplification.
Upon our return, I set to work assembling my bike with the help of a bicycle fanatic friend of Dan and Tuyet, the hotel owner. With Hai’s English poor at best and my Vietnamese none existent, we hit it off, seemingly unaware of our language barrier. The upstairs gay South African white guy, Peter, kept us entertained with his comments about how my curtains were much better in my room that in his room. Finally with the bike assembled, Hai and I worked out a route for me to take west to the coast then south. Apparently, route 1 is too congested with trucks and not a fun ride at all, dangerous in fact. Tomorrow we have a breakdown cruise around the outskirts of Hanoi starting at 7:00 follow by a 6:00 start the next day when I shove off for Ho Chi Ming/Saigon. The traffic is very light at this time of morning. Finally, a good nap helped ease the
jet lag. Ending the day, Dan and I walked a block to an Indian restaurant for diner. We ate like Gods for only $15. 225,000 dong equals about $10! Enough for tonight, up early tomorrow.
Our first destination was to the corner open cafe where we had some expresso and watched the street fill with people carrying shallow baskets of fruit or whatever balanced on a horizontal wooden pole over their shoulders. The cone shaped cane hats you have seen so often in Chinese movie scenes. Motorbikes over ladened with five times what one would consider a reasonable load. Narrow buildings packed together of French, Chinese, and Vietnamese architecture line the narrow streets. The wiring overhead is a tangle of hundreds of wire going in every direction. Dan related to me what is done to fix a wiring problem, “just add another wire”. After coffee we had for hole in a wall restaurant where we sat on the on small plastic sidewalk stools and feasted on a delicious soup of noodles, spinach of some variety and thin slices of beef in a yellow broth. As we ate, only feet away, motorbikes, bicyclists and pedestrians clogged the narrow street. Next stop was to over sooks(sp) where whole blocks comprised hardware goods or whatever. I needed a wrench for my bike taken by the Chinese airport TSA security. Last stop was at a monstrous Russian built marble building repurposed for the arts, elderly, wherever. A friend of Dan’s, Zooie, played the guitar with another person a keyboard for a fifties and sixties women singing group, dressed in traditional dresses. Quite the event with everyone packed in a small classroom with excessively loud amplification.
Upon our return, I set to work assembling my bike with the help of a bicycle fanatic friend of Dan and Tuyet, the hotel owner. With Hai’s English poor at best and my Vietnamese none existent, we hit it off, seemingly unaware of our language barrier. The upstairs gay South African white guy, Peter, kept us entertained with his comments about how my curtains were much better in my room that in his room. Finally with the bike assembled, Hai and I worked out a route for me to take west to the coast then south. Apparently, route 1 is too congested with trucks and not a fun ride at all, dangerous in fact. Tomorrow we have a breakdown cruise around the outskirts of Hanoi starting at 7:00 follow by a 6:00 start the next day when I shove off for Ho Chi Ming/Saigon. The traffic is very light at this time of morning. Finally, a good nap helped ease the
jet lag. Ending the day, Dan and I walked a block to an Indian restaurant for diner. We ate like Gods for only $15. 225,000 dong equals about $10! Enough for tonight, up early tomorrow.
Monday, March 4, 2019
Into the heart of Hanoi
Sixteen hours in a plane is asking a lot; two movies, three documentaries, fitful hours of sleep next to a big ape encroaching into my space, three meals, snacks, music, reading, walking the isles, hang out in the back, stretching, and on and on. Such is the life of a long haul economy passenger. Stacking us horizontally might have been more humane. Landed at Guangzhou, China, suffered through two more security points and kept on my toes to follow their rules. Security everywhere with TV screens showing cartoon clips of terrorist situations. Nice modern airport but I did not get that warm fuzzy feeling. Burger King was front and present so I indulged myself with a somewhat healthy meal. Is that a contradiction in terms? My first and only encounter with the Chinese Yuan. After a four hour layover and a shave in the bathroom, I boarded for Hanoi onto a much smaller jet, four seats across. Flying over the red tile rooftops along our final descent into Hanoi , I could see a third world country awaited me. Landing at the Havana airport still takes the prize.
After shedding my turtleneck and longjohns, I waded into the mass of humanity in the central terminal. My bags made it and my visa and passport withstood the scrutinizing eye of the immigration official. Thanks to Dan Potter I had a running head start on what to expect. Lyft, Uber, and Grab were useless so I found a taxi van which charged me the anticipated rate into town, 550,000 Dong or $22. Dan FaceTimed me on the drive into Hanoi proper and later greeted me outside his funky micro hotel. Getting there required weaving through a maze of inner city narrow streets . He was outside at a curbside table where he sat me down for some local tea. The adventure was just beginning, finally out of my comfort zone, BRING IT ON! Motorbikes everywhere, people hawking there wares, this place is alive. On Dan’s insistence, I change into riding cloths and off we bicycled into the insane traffic to buy a burner phone.. He road slowly, and as if magic, wove his way through hordes of screaming motor bikes, truly an insane experience. Finally with the new phone in left pocket, we continued on to one of his favorite hole in the wall cafes which was totally charming. A local cold beer eased me into my new environment. Next came the local market to pick up some breakfast basics. Communication being one of my stumbling blocks, Dan got me going on the basics e.g.,thanks:Cam on; bathroom:WC or toilet in French. So much to learn and nothing like total immersion right out of the blocks, jet lag aside? Finally a rest in my third floor room and bath, (two rooms per floor, six floors). I lost consciousness for a good two hours and with a Herculean effort got myself vertical for an evening out having dinner at a local neighborhood restaurant. At Dan’s insistence, I tried several dishes, chopsticks included. He knows everything and everyone and threw me headfirst into it. At 22:00 hours, I was crispy around the edges and crumbled into bed. Now to assembly my bike and ease into the Hanoi scene. What a day!
After shedding my turtleneck and longjohns, I waded into the mass of humanity in the central terminal. My bags made it and my visa and passport withstood the scrutinizing eye of the immigration official. Thanks to Dan Potter I had a running head start on what to expect. Lyft, Uber, and Grab were useless so I found a taxi van which charged me the anticipated rate into town, 550,000 Dong or $22. Dan FaceTimed me on the drive into Hanoi proper and later greeted me outside his funky micro hotel. Getting there required weaving through a maze of inner city narrow streets . He was outside at a curbside table where he sat me down for some local tea. The adventure was just beginning, finally out of my comfort zone, BRING IT ON! Motorbikes everywhere, people hawking there wares, this place is alive. On Dan’s insistence, I change into riding cloths and off we bicycled into the insane traffic to buy a burner phone.. He road slowly, and as if magic, wove his way through hordes of screaming motor bikes, truly an insane experience. Finally with the new phone in left pocket, we continued on to one of his favorite hole in the wall cafes which was totally charming. A local cold beer eased me into my new environment. Next came the local market to pick up some breakfast basics. Communication being one of my stumbling blocks, Dan got me going on the basics e.g.,thanks:Cam on; bathroom:WC or toilet in French. So much to learn and nothing like total immersion right out of the blocks, jet lag aside? Finally a rest in my third floor room and bath, (two rooms per floor, six floors). I lost consciousness for a good two hours and with a Herculean effort got myself vertical for an evening out having dinner at a local neighborhood restaurant. At Dan’s insistence, I tried several dishes, chopsticks included. He knows everything and everyone and threw me headfirst into it. At 22:00 hours, I was crispy around the edges and crumbled into bed. Now to assembly my bike and ease into the Hanoi scene. What a day!
Saturday, March 2, 2019
All systems are GO for Vietnam
Arriving home from my Florida trip January 12, didn’t give me much turn around for my trip to Vietnam. Pay off the Florida bills and then work like a madman to generate enough funds to get away for five weeks to bicycle Vietnam. Rather than unpack, the panniers stayed out where I could wash and repack all the gear. As for the bike, the cracked rear rim and spokes were replaced along with new cables and bar tape. Had I ridden much further on my Florida trip, the creaking sound I kept hearing would have mushroomed into a catastrophic failure of the rear wheel. My thanks to Erik LaFramboise for finding the crack in the rim.
With bills paid forward and everything packed, my sister, Ellen, drove me down to the Greyhound station where I boarded a bus for NYC. Despite the snow, it arrived in the Big Apple on schedule. With bags in tow, I caught a Uber to my niece and husband’s apartment where five of us, Sarah, Andrew, Catherine and Chelsea and I went out for dinner after a few beers at their apartment. Brooklyn Heights has a nice feel to it and their view from the sixteenth floor included Lady Liberty and the Manhattan skyline. Not bad at all.
Another Uber to JFK/China Southern Airlines started the lengthy check in process that dragged out for over two hours. Wading through a sea of humanity along with dragging my mountain of luggage took its toll on me. The international terminal is a zoo with every species of human imaginable pact in like sardines. With a sixteen hour flight to Guangzhou, China looming large, I can see that my state of being will be somewhat altered for the worse when ultimately I arrive in Hanoi. Am I having fun yet?
With bills paid forward and everything packed, my sister, Ellen, drove me down to the Greyhound station where I boarded a bus for NYC. Despite the snow, it arrived in the Big Apple on schedule. With bags in tow, I caught a Uber to my niece and husband’s apartment where five of us, Sarah, Andrew, Catherine and Chelsea and I went out for dinner after a few beers at their apartment. Brooklyn Heights has a nice feel to it and their view from the sixteenth floor included Lady Liberty and the Manhattan skyline. Not bad at all.
Another Uber to JFK/China Southern Airlines started the lengthy check in process that dragged out for over two hours. Wading through a sea of humanity along with dragging my mountain of luggage took its toll on me. The international terminal is a zoo with every species of human imaginable pact in like sardines. With a sixteen hour flight to Guangzhou, China looming large, I can see that my state of being will be somewhat altered for the worse when ultimately I arrive in Hanoi. Am I having fun yet?
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