Friday, March 14, 2008
Coming soon...
Sapa, trekking with the Hmong hill tribes, Singpore Stopover round 2, and a slideshow of the remaining 532 photos! We know you can't wait.
Day 10: Hoi An - Marble Mountain - Danang- Hanoi - Sapa
Taxis, planes and trains. We rely on all of them to day to transport us from central to northern Vietnam.
As usual the day starts with coffee on An Huy's terrace. This is now Kari's favorite thing to do here. Once again, the daily parade of vendors making their way to market commences.
Herb's new favorite thing is noodles for breakfast. He indulges his daily noodle habit on last time at the stand across the street.
After breakfast, the tailors, two young women, from Bebe arrive right on schedule via motobike delivering Herb's new pair of shorts. He ordered them at 8pm last night. They fit perfect.
Kari takes time for one last tour through Hoi An's riverside market. Fish, seafood, an endless variety of herbs and greens, caged chickens, ducks, geese, vegetables, pots and pans, clothing, silk scarves, and tacky souvenirs. It's all here along with people, bicycles, and motobikes weaving their way through the crowd. All in search of the day's freshest bargain to pack home in their market basket or their suitcase.
The market is a beautiful place. On our first visits, we only saw the surface, the crowds, the ugly blue tarps covering make-shift market stands from the constant rain, and the endless hawkers calling "hello", "you buy something?". But now, after a few days, the place starts to work on you. Walking quietly, alone through the market, its true colors unfold in nooks and crannies where old Hoi An women in third-world-squat, chew on betel nuts, smoke cigs and chat with their neighbors. Excited crowds gather on the docks behind the market clammoring to buy fish from boats arriving with the days catch. Colors, textures, aromas, noises and flavors that make up Vietnam. When you take the time to immerse yourself in it completely, its charm is obvious.
It's time to leave Hoi An. We say our goodbyes and thank yous to the kind folks at An Huy Hotel. They've taken such good care of us with restaurant recommendations ("with no tourists"), charging our lame camera battery, and answering all our dumb questions about their lovely country. They run a great little hotel that I would recommend to anyone visiting Hoi An.
Our taxi driver arrives for the trip to Danang airport and our flight to Hanoi. He suggests making a brief stop at Marble Mountain "for a view". We soon learn that he did not mean a view of the mountains, but a visit to a marble factory -- of course. There is way too much marble in this factory alone to be coming out of the local mountains. They're just not that big. We've read that most of it is imported from China to supply the shops that line the streets surrounding Marble Mountain. But there is some marble carving going on and an impressive display of marble statues large and small including Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Buddha in his many forms, naked women, dragons and more. On the way out, we manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of the small but pretty Marble Mountains dotted with pagodas and tourists.
Upon arrival at Danang Airport, we find out our Vietnam Airlines flight is delayed for one hour. We pass the time in the small, stuffy airport drinking Tiger Beer and weird orange soda, watching people arriving and departing and old Abba videos on television (?).
When we finally take off it's a quick, one hour hop back to Hanoi.
We arrive back in Hanoi at rush hour. Although one could say it always seems like rush hour in Hanoi, late afternoon is even busier than normal. We taxi to the Army Hotel and drop bags. Our night train to Sapa leaves at 9:30pm. This leaves us with a few hours free time. Herb's on a mission to find a wine shop called Bacchus that he spied from the taxi as we were leaving Hanoi a few days ago. It's the only wine shop we've seen in the entire country. He wants that traditional train meal: a bottle of wine, bread and cheese. The elusive Bacchus turns out to be a wine bar which is closed. But we stumble upon a small charcuterie in the French Quarter where we manage to find French Bordeaux, bread and a bit of real cheese. Yes, real cheese! Gouda to be exact. Until now, the only cheese (can you call it that?) we've seen is La Vache Qui Rit (I think it's processed cheese spread). Like the sweetened condensed milk the Vietnamese use in their coffee, we can only guess that its popularity has a direct correlation to its shelf-life in a hot, tropical environment. Aha! That's why you always see La Vache Qui Rit in Asian markets at home. It must be the stuff Vietnamese taste memories are made of.
We duck into a cute little cafe for tea and a beer and engage the proprietor in a lively conversation about the United States and where we're from. Maps are drawn of New York, Chicago and Cleveland (in between by the big lake). Then the illustrated conversation turns to Texas and stick figures of cowboys. Very funny.
Evening falls and we taxi to the Hanoi train station. It's a circus. Herb loves it. He loves trains and train stations (more than Kari realized). Kari is just confused. Touts everywhere, a woman with a basket of bread on her head, kids selling postcards, porter services, and god-knows what else to dazed looking travelers trying to find their train. There are like 40 tracks. Locals and tourists are all rushing around. We can't find any information telling us where we should go. Herb just starts wandering. Somehow we manage to find our train -- track number 6, car number 11. There is some sort of electrical problem and cars are shuffled. Despite all that, we depart on time.
We travel in comfort in our 1st class soft sleeper. We paid for the extra berths so we have the sleeper to ourselves. As the train pulls slowly out of Hanoi, it crosses the Red River, and picks up its pace a bit as we pass by ramshackle houses, factories, glowing steel mills and other anonymous industrial buildings. A few sips of wine and the clickety clack of the train starts lolling us off to sleep. Not a great sleep but comfortable after we insert the earplugs.
As usual the day starts with coffee on An Huy's terrace. This is now Kari's favorite thing to do here. Once again, the daily parade of vendors making their way to market commences.
Herb's new favorite thing is noodles for breakfast. He indulges his daily noodle habit on last time at the stand across the street.
After breakfast, the tailors, two young women, from Bebe arrive right on schedule via motobike delivering Herb's new pair of shorts. He ordered them at 8pm last night. They fit perfect.
Kari takes time for one last tour through Hoi An's riverside market. Fish, seafood, an endless variety of herbs and greens, caged chickens, ducks, geese, vegetables, pots and pans, clothing, silk scarves, and tacky souvenirs. It's all here along with people, bicycles, and motobikes weaving their way through the crowd. All in search of the day's freshest bargain to pack home in their market basket or their suitcase.
The market is a beautiful place. On our first visits, we only saw the surface, the crowds, the ugly blue tarps covering make-shift market stands from the constant rain, and the endless hawkers calling "hello", "you buy something?". But now, after a few days, the place starts to work on you. Walking quietly, alone through the market, its true colors unfold in nooks and crannies where old Hoi An women in third-world-squat, chew on betel nuts, smoke cigs and chat with their neighbors. Excited crowds gather on the docks behind the market clammoring to buy fish from boats arriving with the days catch. Colors, textures, aromas, noises and flavors that make up Vietnam. When you take the time to immerse yourself in it completely, its charm is obvious.
It's time to leave Hoi An. We say our goodbyes and thank yous to the kind folks at An Huy Hotel. They've taken such good care of us with restaurant recommendations ("with no tourists"), charging our lame camera battery, and answering all our dumb questions about their lovely country. They run a great little hotel that I would recommend to anyone visiting Hoi An.
Our taxi driver arrives for the trip to Danang airport and our flight to Hanoi. He suggests making a brief stop at Marble Mountain "for a view". We soon learn that he did not mean a view of the mountains, but a visit to a marble factory -- of course. There is way too much marble in this factory alone to be coming out of the local mountains. They're just not that big. We've read that most of it is imported from China to supply the shops that line the streets surrounding Marble Mountain. But there is some marble carving going on and an impressive display of marble statues large and small including Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Buddha in his many forms, naked women, dragons and more. On the way out, we manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of the small but pretty Marble Mountains dotted with pagodas and tourists.
Upon arrival at Danang Airport, we find out our Vietnam Airlines flight is delayed for one hour. We pass the time in the small, stuffy airport drinking Tiger Beer and weird orange soda, watching people arriving and departing and old Abba videos on television (?).
When we finally take off it's a quick, one hour hop back to Hanoi.
We arrive back in Hanoi at rush hour. Although one could say it always seems like rush hour in Hanoi, late afternoon is even busier than normal. We taxi to the Army Hotel and drop bags. Our night train to Sapa leaves at 9:30pm. This leaves us with a few hours free time. Herb's on a mission to find a wine shop called Bacchus that he spied from the taxi as we were leaving Hanoi a few days ago. It's the only wine shop we've seen in the entire country. He wants that traditional train meal: a bottle of wine, bread and cheese. The elusive Bacchus turns out to be a wine bar which is closed. But we stumble upon a small charcuterie in the French Quarter where we manage to find French Bordeaux, bread and a bit of real cheese. Yes, real cheese! Gouda to be exact. Until now, the only cheese (can you call it that?) we've seen is La Vache Qui Rit (I think it's processed cheese spread). Like the sweetened condensed milk the Vietnamese use in their coffee, we can only guess that its popularity has a direct correlation to its shelf-life in a hot, tropical environment. Aha! That's why you always see La Vache Qui Rit in Asian markets at home. It must be the stuff Vietnamese taste memories are made of.
We duck into a cute little cafe for tea and a beer and engage the proprietor in a lively conversation about the United States and where we're from. Maps are drawn of New York, Chicago and Cleveland (in between by the big lake). Then the illustrated conversation turns to Texas and stick figures of cowboys. Very funny.
Evening falls and we taxi to the Hanoi train station. It's a circus. Herb loves it. He loves trains and train stations (more than Kari realized). Kari is just confused. Touts everywhere, a woman with a basket of bread on her head, kids selling postcards, porter services, and god-knows what else to dazed looking travelers trying to find their train. There are like 40 tracks. Locals and tourists are all rushing around. We can't find any information telling us where we should go. Herb just starts wandering. Somehow we manage to find our train -- track number 6, car number 11. There is some sort of electrical problem and cars are shuffled. Despite all that, we depart on time.
We travel in comfort in our 1st class soft sleeper. We paid for the extra berths so we have the sleeper to ourselves. As the train pulls slowly out of Hanoi, it crosses the Red River, and picks up its pace a bit as we pass by ramshackle houses, factories, glowing steel mills and other anonymous industrial buildings. A few sips of wine and the clickety clack of the train starts lolling us off to sleep. Not a great sleep but comfortable after we insert the earplugs.
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