Vietnam, Part 1

Rain and darkness greeted us in Vinh (pronounced “Wing”).  This was the first substantial amount of rain on our trip to date and the forecast promised plenty more.  The bus ride had left our bodies sore from the incessant twisting and turning of the mountainous roads and we were happy to decline the aggressive offers from the cab drivers.  We started walking down the street towards the bus station.  Along our walk, we were invited to join a group of friends eating snails and drinking local beer from a keg.  We happily obliged and shared a tiny seat at a tiny table using toothpicks to coax tiny snails from their tiny shells.  Our ability to speak and understand Vietnamese was still in its infancy and we relied on the international language of facial expressions and gesturing.  Vietnam was welcoming us with open arms. 

The train station was a 20 minute walk down the rainy sidewalks.  We declined several motorcycle taxi rides, which seemed like a soggy proposition in the drizzling rain.  Bus and train stations are easily distinguished by the ring of vendors aggressively selling snacks and refreshments.  After avoiding the sales pitches, we secured our tickets for the train ride to Hue (pronounced “Way”).  The train was departing just 20 minutes after we got our tickets, canceling any dinner plans.  Road weary and hungry, we reluctantly climbed onto the train.  

The platform had been full of university students returning home from a week of classes and our train was just as crowded.  Our seats were constructed of wooden slats and we sat two wide facing another bench that seated two passengers.  This resulted in half of the train car facing opposite to the direction of travel.  Along the wall of the car was a tiny table about the size of a sheet of paper and provided a valuable asset for catching some sleep later in the trip.  The first hour or two was fun and exiting as we sat and talked with the university students.  Once they had grown weary for struggling though speaking english to us, we were left with occasionally smiling politely as our eyes met.  After two or three stops, only the long distance travelers remained on the train and everyone was jockeying for a comfortable location to try and sleep.  A man of 70 (or older) curled his petite frame up on the hard bench, a woman with her two children slept on a mat provided by the train’s staff and another man had cleverly rigged a hammock between two benches and looked the most comfortable by far.  

Our slumber would be intermittently interrupted by a strange sound, shaking of the train, a stop at some unknown coastal town or just the inherent stiffness supplied by the wooden bench.  Earlier, I had asked the conductor to wake us once we had reached our stop and, luckily, he followed through.  We stumbled off the train and into the inky black night of rainy Hue.  We found ourselves in an unknown city with no accommodations, disoriented, groggy and extremely uncomfortable at 3:00 am.  Our taxi driver took us to a hotel where the night attendant was sleeping in the lobby.  Looking as tired as we felt, he showed us to our room and we slipped into a slumber that only a long travel day can offer.  Phonsovan, Laos to Hue, Vietnam was truly, a marathon day of traveling.

Hue, Vietnam was once the capital of the ancient Ngyuen Empire.  Several dynasties ruled the kingdom from this port town and built impressive monuments that testified to the richness of the land.  Arguably the most grand structure is located in the city of Hue.  The Citadel is a walled city ringed by a moat 100 feet wide.  Bridges allow access across the moat and through a gate.  The Citadel is surrounded by a 20 foot tall and 30 foot wide brick wall. An entire city can be found inside the citadel.  Clothing stores, restaurants, karaoke clubs and all other typical stores are all within the ancient city.  Deeper inside the wall is the Imperial City.  A second moat and a second wall restrict access to the royal grounds.  Entrance is permitted only through the West gate.  Three gates are under the pavilion guarding the entrance.  There is one large arched door with two smaller doorways on either side.  As is typical with the tombs we would later visit, the center door is only to be crossed by the emperor. 

Nearly 40 years of war have left much of the historical sites in Vietnam damaged, neglected or completely destroyed.  This was very much the case with the Imperial City.  The royal palace had been completely destroyed and nothing but a foundation remained.  This is also true with the gate that stretched in front of the wall that designates the royal family’s living quarters, known as the Purple City.  Crumbling walls, foundations of buildings filled the majority of the Purple City.  Only remnant structures remained: a covered walkway, the theatre, a reading room and library.  We observed some construction that looked like it was aiming at rebuilding the historical structures using traditional techniques standards. The Imperial City was a shadow of its former glory, representing the losses suffered between World War 2 and the end of the American War (referred to in the USA as the Vietnam War).

Traditional Vietnamese believe that the grave in which you are buried is your home for the afterlife.  Therefore, it is very important to be buried.  Simple graves have a hole in the middle of the grave that is filled with gravel.  Once a year, the family burns incense in the hole in hopes the spirit of the deceased will return and exit from the grave to join the family.  The royal graves are on a royal level.  One such grave we visited was surrounded by a 10 foot wall over a mile in length.  Inside the grounds are pavilions of worship as well as residences for the royal concubines, eunuchs and family members.  Elaborate gardens adorn the walkways between the structures.  The tombs themselves are within two more sets of walls and are only a symbol of the emperor’s final resting place.  The precise location of resting place remains a secret.  Tunnels originating from outside the tomb’s outer wall were constructed to the precise location inside the burial walls.  The workers were mentally disabled or blind so that they would not remember the exact location of the tomb, hence protecting the relics buried in the emperor’s underground palace.  The Vietnamese government does not permit any research regarding the location of the tomb out of respect for the traditional values of these ancient 
rulers.

The cold weather and long travel days began to catch up with Stacey.  After insisting she wasn’t getting sick, her body told other signs.  She ran a fever for two days and was unable to do much other than watch HBO in our comfortable hotel room.  I, however, could not escape the nagging reminder of the more recent history this area held… The Vietnam War.  

For most of my life, anytime the word “Vietnam” was used it was exclusively in relation to the civil war that America involved itself.  In order to get a grasp on the magnitude of the war I signed up for a tour to the demilitarized zone (DMZ), Vinh Moc and the U.S. military base, Khe Sahn.  

The van picked arrived at our hotel at 7 a.m. and we ran a circuit through Hue to pick up the other 13 travels that had booked the tour.  The DMZ lies about 60 miles to the North of Hue  along a road lined with rice patties, brushy forest and tiny little towns built on stilts.  Our van delivered us to our start of the tour in Dong Ha.  Our guide gave us a brief introduction to the tour and a rough timeline of the day to come.  We stopped first at an area where the Ho Chi Minh trail once passed.  The trees had succumbed to the proliferation of agent orange and the area consisted of a scrubby forest clawing back from eradication.  This location served as an important river crossing along the trail to support North Vietnamese troops in the South during the war.  

A couple quick shots of the area and we drove further up the valley to the Khe Sanh U.S. military base.  U.S. command knew that NVA soldiers in southern Vietnam must receive all their supplies by land from the North.  They constructed Khe Sanh as a forward operating base to disrupt this supply route and choke the southern NVA forces.  The terrain to the West (Laos) was mountainous and impassable, forcing the route to the Eastern slope of the mountain range.  Combined with US presence between the mountains and sea created a rock and a hard place for the NVA troops supply chain.  Khe Sanh saw the most action in 1968 when the NVA attacked with 3 divisions.  The base was supplied by cargo planes landing at first, then parachuting food and ammunition in once the fighting became to intense to land.  The base was held, with massive air support that flew aggressive bombing missions.  The US lost over 500 of the some 6,000 soldiers based at Khe Sanh, while estimates of NVA losses range from 7,000 to more than 15,000.

Very little remains of the original base.  A museum stands near the historic airfield that tells the story of Khe Sanh, written by the NVA perspective.  Visitors can walk through a handful of restored trenches and bunkers that American soldiers found shelter from NVA artillery.  Most of the structures were looted by locals after the US decommissioned the base, selling the metal for scrap or utilizing it in reconstructing their homes.  Coffee plantations now cover much of the former battlefields, restoring life to a once barren land littered with bomb craters.  Life appears to have returned to normal, however a visitor to this area can’t help but feel the lasting effects of the conflict that ended two generations ago.

 The war displaced thousands, if not millions of Vietnamese.  Those who weren’t fighting were often supporting either side through farming, ferrying supplies and providing intelligence on troop movements.  Many villages sought refuge from the aerial bombing underground, either in natural caves or manmade tunnels.  Vinh Moc tunnels lie on the Northern edge of the DMZ, along the coast of the South China Sea.  The tunnels took 18 months to build and reached a depth of over 60 feet, with three main levels.  The tunnels were built under the cover of thick bamboo and darkness, while the dirt was dumped into the sea to avoid detection from air reconiscence.  Villagers would stay in the tunnels for up to 5 days in alcoves designated for each family.  The tunnels were complete with a well, meeting hall and maternity ward in which 17 births occurred.  The Vinh Moc tunnels provide a testament to the strength, ingenuity and audacity of the Vietnamese people.

We exchanged dimly lit tunnels for sunlight and started back in our bus to Hue.  I heavily reflected on the impacts of the war and the pure struggle that many people here experienced, and continue to experience.  Having known nothing but war for so long, Vietnam appears to be finally recovering, both emotionally and economically from years of conflict.  Young and old alike have truly made us welcome in this ancient land.


Images from the market in Hue

Laosy

And, we’re back.  After nearly three weeks of being in the black, we’ve emerged relatively unscathed from Laos.  Our feelings about leaving Laos are identical to those when we arrived: excited and hopeful.  Garrett came down with what we are calling “the Mekong” and Stacey lost control on a zip line and smashed into a tree at 25 mph, suffering only some bruising.  Laos took a piece of our health, our time and definitely our pocketbook.  We don’t regret any of  choices we made during our visit to Laos rather, carry with us the memories of howling gibbons, the slow chug of the diesel motor down the Mekong River, enjoying Paris quality baked goods in Luang Prabang, and mostly, the great friends that seemed to serendipitously fall into our lives. 

Thailand was beginning to pull us deeper and deeper into her embrace.  There is no match to the kindness her people shared with us.  They were patient, funny, hospitable and tolerant of our ignorance about their cultures and customs.  We had become to get a little too comfortable there and decided we needed to start making moves towards our next destination.  This included a marathon of minivans and busses, backtracking much of the route we had already taken.  Mae Hong Son is just shy of the halfway point along the loop from Chiang Mai, Pai, Mae Hong Son, Mae Saring, Lampang and finally, back to Chiang Mai.  The route is very mountainous and requires the road to switchback and forth up and down impossibly steep mountains.  Mae Hong Son had provided a fulfilling cultural experience and our tolerance for an extra day of travel to complete the route was thin.  Laos was falling into our sights.

A 10 hour bus ride back to Chiang Mai and another 4 hours north to Chiang Rai and we were on the door step of the Golden Triangle and the tail end of our time in Thailand.  We found some accommodation in the city center and headed out for whatever culinary adventure we could find.  The night market was in full swing once we arrived.  Following our eyes, ears and nose we found what we were looking for.  The city had a square designated for food vendors, covered seating and a performance stage.  Following one of our travel principles, we patiently assessed the food situation and followed the lead of the locals (or, at least, who we presumed to be the locals).  A common theme among the food stalls was we have come to know as the “Hot Pot.”  This is a selection of raw meat and vegetables served with a pot of soup stock atop a brazier of hot coals.  The diner then selects which ingredient and to which quantity they would like to enjoy.  The cooking process takes 20 to 30 minutes, which allows for some time to enjoy light conversation, the stage performances, and some serious people watching.  Once the soup is ready, it is served into bowls to be shared.  This was so popular between the two of us, we returned the next night and each had our own hot pot.

Chiang Rai had two sights that we could not possible miss: The White Temple and The Black House.  Travel by scooter had become the norm at this point and we rented ours early to beat the tour busses to the White Temple.  The area had experienced an earth quake a few years earlier and the temple was badly damaged.  Repairs were underway to repaint the frescoes inside the temple and there was noticeable damage to the steeple atop the main structure.  The clouds were beginning to break and the temple was already busy by the time we arrived.  The temple was stark white with mirrors placed to accent the sculptures.  The highlight was the bridge leading from the sculptures depicting tormented souls into the temples.  The bridge was guarded by two looming figures holding swords and pointing towards the judged.  The walk across the bridge and towards the temple was a sight that is tough to describe, hopefully our pictures do it justice.

The Black House lies north of the city and we were back on our scooter to make the second stop.  We found our way down some alleys to national artist, Thawan Duchanee’s Black House.  (http://www.thawan-duchanee.com/index-eng.htm)  We were awestruck by the architecture, sculptures, painting and general landscaping.  Once again, I cannot find the words to capture the grandiose nature of his work and will rely on our photos.  

Our time traveling was beginning to wear on us and we decided to spend some time relaxing and decompressing at a nice, relaxing place to regain our composure.  Near the Black House and Chiang Rai University we found Naga Hill.  Complete with a salt water swimming pool, attentive staff and delicious restaurant. Three days flew by under the sweltering sun as we red books, swam and decompressed.

Laos awaited.  The staff at the Gibbon Experience had been slow to return our emails and we weren’t sure if ziplining was in our future or not.  The border crossing over the Mekong River was smooth and we found our way to the Gibbon Experience office.  We booked our tour for the next day and checked into our hotel for the night.  

The Gibbon Experience started with a 50 mile ride into the mountains to a Hmong village.  A two mile hike into the rainforest and we were to the base camp.  After a quick introduction our gear was issued and we chose our respective tree houses.  The groups hiked further into the forest and we started on our first zip lines.  We clipped onto the lines and headed how the lines.  The afternoon was spent recovering from the hike and enjoying our new accommodations.  As the sun set, the jungle came alive with the sounds of animals and insects.  We sat and listened for hours to the music of the forest.

We awoke to the call of the gibbons, organizing for the day’s activities.  They called back and forth to each other in a building manner that ended with the gibbons screaming excitedly.  This was very special, as very few trips get to see the endangered species.  The rest of the day was spent taking the ziplines across the jungle.  We visited all of the 7 treehouses, each with their own unique designs, views and perks.  While heading down one of the lines, Stacey was coming in a little too fast.  She attempted to brake, but wasn’t slowing down fast enough to avoid hitting the tree at the end of the zipline.  She pulled herself to the platform and we assessed the extent of her injury.  After a 15 minute break, we decided it was just a bad bruise and she kept in good spirits the remainder of the day.  The second day was a short day of ziplining and a return hike down the mountain.  The return song theaw (a truck with benches in the bed and a pavilion over the top) was much smoother than the initial ride up.  After 3 action packed days, the slow boat down the Mekong awaited us.

Two days of the slow chug a lug droning from the diesel motor carried us through northwestern Laos.  This is absolutely the only way to travel from northern Thailand into north central Laos.  We shared the boat with a many travelers such as ourselves.  The trip consisted of two 8 hour days, staying in a small trading town, Pak Beng, along the way.  The abundance of time afforded us the opportunity to talk with other travelers and learn about places we were headed and some places we learned we would like to visit.  Talking with new people from new lands has inspired me to do more of the same when we return to the US, broadening my insights and knowledge about the world we live in.

Luang Prabang was were I came down with the Mekong sickness.  Two days were spent mostly in the hotel room and going out mainly for meals.  The French influence was evident in the architecture, language and culinary options.  Le Banneton bakery became our favorite dinning option in the city.  The quality of the croissants and baguettes was impeccable.  Another highlight was the coffee, easily the best in all of Laos.  The local food in Laos leaves a lot to be desired, so this had become a welcome oasis for us.

Our time in Luang Prabang began to feel a little forced.  We had applied and recieved our Vietnam visas and decided it was time to get out while the getting was good.  Some friends from the Gibbon Experience had gone south to Vang Vieng and we decided to head down there for some tubing, pizza and beers.  The weather was great and we had fun meeting up with some familiar faces.  The landscape was spotted with mountains rising from the river valley and made for some great sunsets.  We had our fill of pizza and fruit shakes and we took a 7 hour bus ride north to the city of Phonsovan.  

The people of Laos were unwillingly dragged into the Vietnam war.  Their country was used by Vietnamese troops to resupply troops to the south, utilizing the Ho Chi Minh Trail.  In an effort to disrupt this supply route, the US military ran a bombing mission in Laos every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day for 9 years.  More bombs were dropped on Laos during the Vietnam war than all of the bombs dropped during World War 2.  These missions were taking place in secret even though the US had signed a peace treaty in Geneva promising not to involve Laos in the Vietnam War.  Of all these bombs that were dropped, approximately 30% never exploded, littering the country with unexploded ordinances that pose a grave hazard for generations to come.  To learn more about the efforts to clean up these remnants of war, visit http://www.maginternational.org/ .

Phonsovan was a quick stop for us on our way to Vietnam.  The area has been a historically important trade route and is home to the enigmatic Plain of Jars.  These monoliths are carved from local rock and resemble a large jar.  It has been speculated that these were used in burial ceremonies and excavation of local sites has revealed evidence to support this theory.  The area was subjected to heavy bombardment in the Vietnam war (referred to as the Indochina war in Laos).  During the bombing, several of the jars were damaged and the 20 foot deep craters remain to this day as a testament to the military actions of the area.  

We were happy to move on to Vietnam and find some western creature comforts.  The bus ride took us through the mountainous passes between Phonsovan and the border.  Our bus lacked heat, but none of the migratory Vietnamese workers seemed to mind too much.  13 hours later we had arrived in Vinh, Vietnam with Hue just a short train ride away.

We apologize for the brevity of this post, as several factors contributed to us not posting the past 2 plus weeks.  We hope to have more entertaining and informative posts to come.