Have we been 'Bangkoked'?

Last night we paid three times the listed price for our hotel. Why? Because yesterday marked the anniversary of the end of the Vietnam war and beginning of a 36 year stretch of peace. I'm not certain but this might be the longest stretch of peace that Vietnam has ever had. We were told that things were going to get crazy. It sounded like something worth sticking around for..so we did.
Lots of people did show up for this 'festival', but other than a stage with several performances involving props like baskets and sticks, we could not, for the life of us find any other festivities. It appears that during HUGE festivals the Vietnamese people just mill around. Our confusion was so great that we had to take extreme measures to investigate. We started tailing people. What better way to figure put what draws locals to the streets than to pick up a mark at the parking garage and follow them around? This proved unsuccessful for two reasons. 1. I am the worst detective in history. I keep getting too close, making eye contact, bumping into my target. Not to mention I do not even remotely 'blend in'. 2. We got bored because all our mark was doing was milling.
Things did not get crazy. The streets emptied out by 1030. On our walk back to the hotel we started thinking about the brilliant scam in Bangkok that opperates by taking advantage of tourist ignorance by telling them it's a special day, a holiday worth sticking around for...every day. It is possible that the festival was a typical Saturday night. We may never know. That's the real art in scamming. Trick people so masterfully that they are left to marvel at your skill instead of grumbling at the slight.

Everything I Do...I Do It For You....

Our road trip through the Highlands is coming to a close. Miraculously the motorcycle still runs great. About halfway to DeLat the road turned to garbage. There were pot holes big enough to swallow us both and sections of sharp crushed rock that had the bike sliding all over the place. We bumped into some 'Easy Riders' two days ago, after surviving a particularly harrowing stretch of road. These are a very popular form of transport for tourists..the Easy Riders are motorcyclists in Vietnam that rent out there services to drive you on the back of their bikes through the highlands for 50-75 dollars a day. Our bike rental costs us 7 dollars a day. Surprisingly few tourists try this trip on their own. It could be in part, due to the apparent conspiracy to hide all useful maps from outsiders. We took wrong turns almost 50 percent of the time. Thankfully it's easy to discover your error when you end up in someone's back yard. Anyway, we bumped into a group of about ten Easy Riders with their charges holding on behind them. They offered to show us a shortcut the rest of the way to DeLat, so we happily followed. That night we were thrilled to have taken them up on the offer...when they invited us to join them at a karaoke bar. We experienced the true Vietnam karaoke scene. I goes something like this:
You walk up to one of the thousand buildings with the word 'Karaoke' painted on the side of it, climb six flights of stairs and end up in a tiny room with no windows. Inside this room is a wrap-around couch, surround sound, cases of beer, snacks, and two microphones. We crowded into this space with about ten Easy Rider guys and four of their tourist employers. They were all three sheets to the wind. It got loud fast. Nathan and I realized weeks ago that fitting into Vietnam was all about losing inhibitions...so we sang like our lives depended on it. If I do say so myself, my duet with a Vietnamese man singing 'Everything I do, I do it for you' was a real crowd pleaser.

For those of you who might be interested in this kind of trip, in this area of Vietnam, I can recommend a great guy (and charismatic, English speaking) Easy Rider.  His name is Bruce Lee, and his family's house is right next door to the Blue Star Hotel in Nha Trang.  His email is  boy_single902008@yahoo.com  ( though he is now happily married..I suggested he change the email but for now this is the best way to reach him )  He is also a talented karaoke singer..which is worth a little extra per day, in my opinion :)

Coffee Capital of Vietnam!

We spent yesterday making our way on a motorcycle to Paradise, a beautiful spot on DocLet beach on a peninsula with something against signage. We drove around salt flats praying we wouldn't be reduced to sleeping in a salty ditch for much of the afternoon. It was worth the hassle. Our beach bungalo came wih three meals of local food a day and turquoise bath water ocean waves. I have checked off the South China Sea on my list of skinny dipped bodies of water.. And we're ready to continue inland!
Today we will ride to Buon Ma Thuot, the coffee capital of Vietnam, to sample some of the finest butter roasted beans available. There are a series of large waterfalls in the area and Vietnam's largest nature reserve a couple of hours from that. So far, a great bike trip!
Minus.. the French guy at dinner last night telling a table full of guests that capitalism has reduced us to the equivalent of Egyptian slaves putting up pyramids. I was tempted to make the argument that aliens built the pyramids, but his earlier comments about contagious neroses had me worried for my safety.

The Ol' Fourth Floor Trick

This is a brilliant move by receptionists to get hotel guests. They tell you that the only room they have for you to look at, and take, is on the fourth floor. You therefore have to trudge up a miserable staircase with your life strapped to your back to look at the accommodations to decide.. But by the time you reach the top you are so tired you'd accept a rug on the floor as long as it meant getting to put down your bags.

We have decided on another motorcycle trip. We will depart Nha Trang this morning and head for the central highlands on the Ho Chi Min highway. We are going to hit the town of DaLat on the loop and end back here in Nha Trang. With our current pace we realized yesterday that another Vietnam visa extension will be required. Once you're in Vietnam it's incredibly easy to stay.

Time for breakfast, and to brave the crowds of people hawking their wares on the street.
'Hey man! Hey lady! Buy something.' I'm considering starting a business here... These vendors could really benefit from a couple classes 'How to sell crap to tourists' , 'What not to scream at people you are trying to swindle' , 'Why you probably shouldn't treat tourists like gigantic babies with diapers full of cash, even though they are'.
There is a need for classes like these. Something to consider for a retirement job maybe.

Cyclo Killer...Qu'est-ce que c'est?

We decided on an afternoon train from Quy Nhon to Nha Trang once we'd had our fill of the city.  The train left at 1645 and so we grabbed our bags around 1500 to leave us plenty of time to either walk to the train station or get a lift on a moto.  The first two moto drivers refused to give us a fair price so we started walking.  With a two mile walk ahead of us, and each of us carrying 50 lbs of pack on our backs we were motivated to find another couple of moto drivers to haggle with. 
Instead, an 89 pound man, who had an expression I first confused with drunkeness and later understood as desperation appraoched us.  He had been eavesdropping on our bargaining session with the two moto guys and agreed to take us where we wanted to go for the price we had offered the others.  He was dressed in a short sleeve button down shirt, trucker hat and had straggly hair down to his shoulders.  He had a reassuring smile that immediately put us both at ease. 
And...then we saw how small his cyclo was.  The cyclo is an adapted bicycle with what could be likened to a medieval wheelchair strapped to the front of it.  We gave him four raised eyebrows, indicating we needed some clarification on what it was he was offering.  Both of us?  Both bags?  At the same time?  Where?  He helped us arrange oursevlves and our packs on his cyclo and then hopped on the back.  Nathan was basically sitting on me, and I was hunched over with my chest resting on my knees.  We were an absolute spectacle. 
Things went down hill..unfortunately not literally.  He started to peddle.  Our first thirty feet of movement across 6 lanes of traffic happened over the course of approximately two minutes.  Nathan's groans persisted the entire time.  He, to no avail, insisted that we get off and walk because walking was surely faster.  To me it seemed like disembarking might come across as an insult to this tiny man's ability to do his job.  Finally, we picked up some speed as the cyclo-hero swung his entire body side to side using all of his weight to rotate the pedals. 
We were laughed at and heckled te entire ride.  Nothing makes you feel like a worthless slug quite like listening to the labored breathing of a man killing himself to haul your 100 lbs of baggage and 260 lbs of lazy flesh across town.  This was by far the most guilt filled, embarrassing experience I can remember.  (In recent history)  When the cyclo finally pulled over to let us out, we paid the poor man his $1.50.  He took it with a sigh of relief.  As he stood on wobbly legs gasping for breath, dripping sweat, we didn't have the heart to ask him where the heck we were- because it wasn't the train station.  We smiled and thanked him profusely.  Walking the mile to get ourselves where we had originally intended seemed like the least we could do as penance for having almost killed a man.

Fifteen minutes

We arrived safely in Quy Nhon. Our bus had empty seats and everything. We spent most of the morning walking around looking for a bakery/cafe in our lonely planet only to discover that it no longer exists. Our room is on the 5th floor of a hotel over looking the beach and costs a whopping 8$ a night. Hard to pass up staying a few days to enjoy totally deserted beaches.

I have been gawked at non-stop for the last month. It happens more in Vietnam than anywhere else we've been. This might be because there aren't really tourists in a lot of the places we visit, but whatever the reason.. I can't seem to blend in as well as Nathan. I decided on our fruitless walk this morning that if I could magically transport myself anywhere in the world for just fifteen minutes this is where I would go:
To a grocery store in Augusta Maine. I would walk the isles, completely invisible, indistinguishable from every other shopper. Prices would be marked on every item and I would walk up and down isles appreciating the system. No one would care about me, point at my hair or my skin, children would not treat me like a famous character from their favorite cartoon. I would be blissfully anonymous for a beautiful fifteen minutes.
Yeah, the attention is getting to me.

Heading South

Our time in Hoi An has come to a close..We will be catching an over priced bus south to Quy Nhon in a few minutes.  This is a beach town that we are told is less frequented by tourists than some of the others.  I'm looking forward to some time on the beach.  I forgot to ask if our bus ticket was for actual seats on the bus.  You'd think I would have learned by now.  It reminds me of a quote from 'The Alchemist', which I just finished reading. 
"If it happens once, it is unlikely to ever happen again.  But, if it happens twice, it will surely happen a third time."
So, if we end up on the floor for the next seven hours in a smelly bus, I'll be ready for our third attempt at a bus trip.

In a town with more than 500 tailors we were both (me more so than Nathan) convinced to get something tailor made for ourselves.  We both got jackets, silk lined for about 35 dollars.  We also took an early morning organized tour to the Cham ruins in My Son.  Its the Angkor Wat of Vietnam.  We got up at 430 in the morning and woke up our wake up call, who was sleeping under the reception desk.  He let us out and a man on a moped drove up to the hotel.  He told both Nathan and myself to get onto his bike behind
him.  It was a tight fit.  He drove us a couple hundred yards, which I'm quite
certain we would have more comfortably walked, and dropped us at the tour guide office. 
When we got to the ruins the gate was closed because the people who sell the tickets were
running about an hour and a half late.  We waited until they showed up to enter the
ruins.  It was pretty impressive, and worth getting up so early to avoid the crowds.
We walked around for about an hour, the whole time I kept very close track of my watch to make sure we didn't miss our ride back to town. I thought the loop trail was a couple hundred meters so gave us about ten minutes to walk back to the bus. Turned out, as we were strolling back towards our pick up point that Nathan had heard the loop was closer to 3 kilometers. Panic! We ran the remainder of the loop and arrived covered in sweat to a bus full of respectably timely tourists waiting in the bus for stragglers.

Wish us luck with a day of bus rides and taxi drivers!

The sales pitch that fails

We were walking to the park in Hue yesterday when one of the gazillion men with a moped ready to sweep any tourist to any destination for 'real cheap' yelled out to me.
"Get on my bike! Where you go? I take you there."
I responded like I always respond. I told him that I liked walking and that I enjoyed the exercise. At this point his salesmanship failed him.
"You look heavy, it's too hard to walk. You should sit. Walking for you looks difficult."
Even though I was certain he understood about 1.5 percent of my reply I couldn't help but respond to his unwitting dig.
"Listen pal, you try eating noodles and bread three times a day as a Caucasian woman. I may have put on a few pounds but I assure you my legs can still support my weight."
These interactions give Nathan a chuckle. It's a good thing my curly hair is a hit, the compliments I rake in about my hair make up for the missteps.

We saw the signs

 Here are a series of signs..by no means a complete collection of all of the colorful, strange and often confusing things we've found written in hotel rooms, tour boats, buses, streets and menus.  I didn't get a picture of our favorite..It was a sign on a boat we took from one island to another that read: 
1. Follow safety regulations. 
2. Do not move around in confusion.

Clearly the operator of that boat had us tourists pegged.  Sometimes things get pretty confusing, and when they do, we tend to walk around looking for answers.  We'd be much less of a bother if we just sat down until the confusion passed.


In the middle of a seemingly deserted island.  I guess knowing where to find the nearest salad is just as important as knowing where to find the nearest police station



No qualms about showing what might happen if you smoke.  Everyone smokes in South East Asia, and some of the packs show images even more offensive than this one. 

This sign was propped at the Laos/Vietnam boarder crossing.  I wanted to follow its instruction...but I HAD to go.

This soap tied up a lot of loose ends for me.  It always seemed like people could smell us coming, and this confirmed it.  The hotels provide these fragrant bars, which must be particularly easy for street vendors to detect.

As far as we can tell, this is a diploma from the Temple of Literature.  Pretty sweet..having your credentials carved into a turtle for all of eternity. Makes my piece of paper seem a little less impressive.

Apparently inside this National park the monkeys from the Wizard of Oz run the show. 

We were warned about this restaurant by a friend we met in Laos.  She was curious enough to ask about the 'Something' .  This is a method for local drug dealers to get the attention of tourists.



Our first Ferry ride had this sign posted on the bar.  I didn't realize Lady Boys were an actual problem until I saw this sign.  



Zithering Holy Man

Thought I would try my hand at uploading a video.  This was in a temple near Tam Coc National Park.  We rented a motorcycle to get out to it and were the only people within miles.  Not an easy place to get to.  But..there was a man inside who was excited to give us demonstrations of all of his instruments (this is the zither), and to test Nathan's guitar playing ability on a moon lute he had lying around.

On a totally unrelated topic:
I'm still slightly bitter about the bus tickets for floor space incident.  My irritation has cultivated a new appreciation for Vietnamese workers trying to scam the hotel systems that make a living scamming tourists.  Yesterday two very sweet and clearly hard working maids at our hotel covertly approached us at our door and asked if we would let them do our laundry under the table for the same price as the hotel charged..without telling the reception desk.  I belly laughed and knew immediately that these two women would be getting our business as well as a solid tip.  And so they did.

Sick as a dog..because I eat like a cat?

I picked up a book in Hanoi that had a list of 'dos' and 'don'ts' a couple of weeks ago.  It said that the Vietnamese people consider licking one's fingers after a good meal, or after eating a piece of fruit..or anytime really... bad form.  Its eating like a cat.  I laughed when I read this because I eat like a cat all the time.  I'm particularly feline when there is chocolate involved and it has melted.  The only logical way to eat melted chocolate is to lick it off of ones fingers.  Anyway, I believe I have learned the hard way why Vietnamese people don't do this. 
I'm not going to go into detail, but lets just say its a good thing you can buy a two week course of antibiotics (over the counter) for as little as five dollars. I'm on the mend finally, and Nathan has thus far avoided whatever I have. 

We are in Hue, a historically significant area of Vietnam for many reasons.  One of which is its proximity to the DMZ, about 70 km North.  We actually spent the day after our bus ride from hell in the DMZ area. 

That is Nathan's head you see at the bottom.  My sleeping area is empty above that.  People had to step on us to get to the bathroom.

The bus stopped in Dong Ha, a town that was moved during the Vietnam War to make room for the American military base.  We got off the bus there and found a tour guide that spoke English fairly well to take us to the DMZ.  He was 18 when the Vietnam War was coming to a close, and had enlisted for the South.  The driver, and boss of our guide was a soldier who fought for the North.  It proved to be a very interesting dynamic.  Our guide Hoa explained that he and his family were moved by the Americans to a village that had been constructed for the people displaced by the military base.   He said the conditions were good, and that they felt safe and protected.  He pointed out in the military museum just across the river in what was Viet Cong territory a picture that had a caption that read "Southern villagers were moved to concentration camps by American soldiers"  He rolled his eyes and whispered, "propaganda".  He went on to explain that both the North and South used huge megaphones to spread such propaganda from one side of the river to the other.

Hoa, our guide was actually screaming "Communism is Good!" in this picture.

We visited Vinh Moc, which was a village of 400 people who lived under ground for over five years.  They dug about 2 kilometers of tunnels in 18 months.  We were able to explore some of the tunnels and go as deep as 23 meters underground.  Over 90 families lived in the tunnels and the living space alloted to each family was hard to believe.  The motto of this town was 'To be or not to be' , and they chose to be..which meant tunnels to avoid the chaos of the DMZ.

Bathroom on Board

When does one stop laughing and start crying? Tough question. We bought ourselves a heck of a deal on sleeper bus tickets this afternoon. Fourteen dollars for a ten to twelve hour ride with beds and a bathroom on board. I guess we made a rookie mistake when we assumed we were buying actual beds on this bus. We got on with a 'Good luck!' shouted at us from the crook who sold us these 'tickets' and the bus was moving before we realized every bed was taken and there were already three people sleeping on the floor. Some people may have chosen this moment to lose their cool.. Understandably, who wants to attempt to sleep without a blanket or pillow, on a bus floor that smells like a swamp, for ten hours. But hey, there's a bathroom on board! This wasn't the moment my despair took hold. No, I lasted about an hour. I started upbeat, laughing at the absolute absurdity of our situation.
Then, I began to feel the contents of my stomach make their way up my esophagus. I don't normally suffer from car sickness. But also, I don't usually pick low lying cramped bus floors to cuddle with the wet suffocating stench of feet, so I've never really.. I mean REALLY tested my level of susceptibility to car sickness. I'm writing this while propping myself against two metal poles to keep myself upright. When my throat tilts more than 6 ish degrees from vertical, things turn touch and go. Nathan is sleeping behind me. I can't help but stare. He's so lucky, so blissfully away from the man covered in sores, from the woman weeping for unknown reasons, from this God awful smell. I'm waiting for someone to give me a hard time about blocking the isle, or using an iPod (maybe he light is keeping them up?) but so far no fool has given me an outlet for my incredulity.
I'm so glad the man from the front waited until I was good and ill before emptying the contents of his bowels in the miniature toilet four feet to my left. But hey, there's a bathroom on board!
As I write this it is impossible for me to imagine things being better, but if you're reading it..they most likely are.

The Ol' Nickle and Dimer

We fell victim to a classic motorcycle rental trick yesterday.  I'm still wavering between infuriated and amused.  We rented a bike for the day, filled it up with gas, used it..and left about 2/3 a tank of gas for the next day.  We made it clear we would be renting again the next morning.
The next morning came, and we, as promised, rented the same bike.  It's gas tank was empty.  The manager actually siphoned out the remaining gas.  Usually Nathan lets tricks like this roll off his back, but this incident actually inspired him to raise a bit of a stink.  He walked back into the hotel and said 'Seriously?  Wheres the gas we put in the tank YESTERDAY?'
To the hotel managers credit, he pulled a classic tourist move on us..the TOURISTS!  He acted like he had no idea what we were talking about.
"Oh, you need gas?  The station is down the street and to the left."

We've heard a lot from people who don't like travel in Vietnam because they always feel like they're being swindled.  Its a fine balance of actually being swindled and pushing back just enough to dissuade some would be swindlers.  Its a balance that can be exhausting.  Just this afternoon three military men tried to charge us fiftey cents to park our motorcycle instead of the twenty five that was written on a sign about ten feet from them.  They said fifty cents and waited.  It was like we'd been practicing our synchronized slow head turn for weeks with how fluidly we both let our eyes rest on the sign reading twenty five cents..until they agreed to give us the right price.  Small victories.

And More Pictures!"

I've joined the masses and started doing ridiculous things on a motorcycle..like taking pictures of other people doing ridiculous things on a motorcycle

The moment of victory when the Hoan Kiem turtle was captured...by a couple hundred men

Onlookers to the turtle capture.  This picture shows the world as Nathan sees it in most of South East Asia...the tops of many heads

Safety first, thats what I always say

Nathan tried justifying his tendency to take pictures of birds by telling me they always add character to a scene.  On the whole, I dislike bird pictures imensely..but after capturing this moment I'm inclined to agree..if you zoom in, this red beauty is actually mid-doodle doo

Bia Dinh (huge) Temple that we found accidentally...500 stone statues, three giant bronze carvings of 50 tons, 160 acres

Inside one of the Bia Dinh buildings

Bia Dinh

There must have been a good reason for touching every statue...so I joined in.  If I had to trace my sore throat back to a single moment..this would be that moment.

You're not a local unless you wear a face mask at all times while on a motorcycle.  Nathan rolls his eyes every time I pull it out, but I swear its helping us blend in.

'Paved Main Road'

Pictures!

Our most recent caving adventure in Cuc Phuong National Park

You're never too young to get on the road in Vietnam

Boating on the MeKong

This bridge in Luang Prabang, Laos cost almost a dollar to cross

A waterfall just outside of Luang Prabang

Lookin' for gold on the Nam Ou River in Laos

These were kids from gold mining towns on the Nam Ou. 

Starting young

View from our boat on the Nam Ou

Nong Khiaw, Laos

View from hilltop in Dien Bien Phu, Vietnam

Underground tunnels on A1 Hill in Dien Bien Phu

Welsh Corgie, yum

Halong Bay

Halong

Sunset from our boat just off of Cat Ba Island

You guessed it, Halong..it was too pretty not to take a hundred pictures

Vietnamese kids crawling all over a US Airforce plane at the Military Museum in Hanoi

Tam Coc river trip (three caves)

Old man on his monochord zither, we found him in a temple and got an unexpected demonstration

Primitive Man (cave)

The Line Dance

I can count the number of times on one hand that we have waited in line since entering Vietnam. This is quite something. A system that works so well that lines rarely occur. Traffic is not the endless row of cars you might see during an American rush hour, even at it's worst in Vietnam things never stop moving. Granted, you frequently see mopeds topple or smack into the side of a car (just saw a man with a bag full of eggs have a head on collision...eggs all over the street)...anyway, it works. Only recently have I begun to understand the true ramifications of the 'movement at all cost' mentality. On the small scale things get ugly fast. When you are standing in line waiting to use the toilet in some dank cement cesspool and an elderly woman refuses to yield, to stagnate even for a second to respect the age old institution of line formation the system loses it's charm. This example is not hypothetical. Grandma rushed in behind me, elbowed me in he gut and unbuttoned her pants while standing inches from the stall already in use. Had I the Vietnamese vocabulary I might have asked 'How certain are you that you have to use that hole in the floor more than me?'
Or perhaps an observation on anatomical probability, 'Excuse me mam, your bladder has had years to stretch, I'm young and physiologically less capable of containing as much fluid as you.'
Alas, I was left slack jawed, turning purple with irritation, to contemplate how irrational it is.. how completely counter to the process of getting things done, to efficiency. She took her sweet time.
Nothing boils my blood faster than being tossed into a crowd of chattering women who have never seen the pee dance.
This painful memory resurfaced yesterday morning at the Hanoi train station. Nathan and I each chose a separate line in hopes that one of us would be better than the other at getting to the front. I felt my skin getting tingly as soon as the first gaggle of four young women snuck their way to the front. Nathan was having the same issues in his 'line'. Somehow after starting third he was sixth. Nothing makes you feel invisible quite like... being invisible. Was I invisible?
Self doubt will get you nowhere in the face of a Vietnamese ticket counter. I had a breakthrough when I let my irritation bubble to the surface. My hand shot to the counter in front of me, blocking the women to my left. The low growl that left my throat made the woman behind me laugh uncomfortably, then back away.
I had discovered the trick...as an outsider you have to sow the seed of doubt in the crowds around you. The doubt that makes them ask themselves 'is this Farang mentally stable?'
The truth is that you will never out elbow an elderly woman, never out sneak a teen girl with 20,000 Dong in her fist. It just isn't possible.

Kitty has the blues

Sleep hasn't come easy these last few nights. In the dark alley behind the hotel the wailing starts when the city quiets down. For those of you who have never heard a ferrel cat in heat.. consider yourself lucky. It's like listening to a night terror from inside of a night terror. Anyway, tonight the miserable screeching reminded me of an experience Nathan and I had in the market the other day. I've given Nathan a hard time on numerous occasions via blog so it's only fair I cop to an example of my cultural naïveté.
We were strolling through a market with lots of poultry for sale. There were small bamboo cages containing one duck and one cat lining the street. I mentioned to Nathan that I thought it was a nice touch that the owners of the ducks were kind enough to put a companion animal in their cages to keep them calm. He stopped walking, turned to me completely expressionless, and he waited. We stared at each other for about twenty five seconds. To Nathan's credit, he did not start laughing until I said 'Oh.'
It hadn't even occured to me that cat might go well with duck on he dinner table. Is it any wonder they sound like they're having night terrors when the streets get dark?

How Not To Meet Fellow Travelers

We were sitting at an adjacent table to a group of Australian travelers.  Nathan noticed a red ring on the shoulder of one of the girls.  We've seen the very same skin irritation very recently....when my mid-section was attacked by ringworm.  He asked me if he should go introduce himself and use his favorite ringworm joke.

"Hi, I'm Nathan.  (leans over and whispers to the stranger) There's a fungus among us."

Thankfully he agreed that introducing yourself and informing someone else that they have ringworm should probably not happen in the same sentence.

Tourist vs. Tortoise

We were making our way back to the hotel after a delicious lunch in Hanoi when we started seeing large crowds of people.  They were concentrated around the edges of the Hoan Kiem Lake.  This lake is the residence of a legendary genius turtle.  We 'know' the story of the turtle through a series of dreadfully confusing pictographs at a temple situated on an island on said lake.  There were no English translations of the story so we had to extrapolate.
Our best guess is that: according to legend this genius turtle teamed up with an 11th century Vietnamese general to kick some ass with a sword that it strapped to it's shell.  At some point in history the sword was stolen from this giant half-shell and caused some strife.  The turtle was a real thorn in the side of the Vietnamese people until they gave it back.  The lake's name in Vietnamese translates to 'Restored Sword Lake'. The Genius turtle may or may not have had an accomplice, a red horse that has a larger than life statue-tribute in the temple of the genius turtle. 

Anyway..this was the information we had before running into the crowds.  In the middle of the lake there were eight boats manned by what appeared to be military personnel, 20- 30 nearly naked men screaming and jumping into the water, and a man holding a megaphone wearing a three piece suit.   The boats were hovering around a net the size of a basketball court and there were 5-6 men swimming inside of it at any given time.  The man on the megaphone had me thinking sporting event until they started frantically wrestling big bundles of net while screaming orders. They were catching the 1000 year old turtle!

We watched this scene unfold for over an hour.  Not once did we catch a glimpse of this turtle, or it's sword.  Once the giant bundle of net which may or may not have contained an aquatic creature was wrestled onto a boat it was rowed to another island on the lake where a crane was set up.  We assumed this might be a yearly moral building exercise for the Vietnamese government..'The Turtle Still Lives!'  Or possibly a groundhog's day-esque exercise where the weather or harvests depend on the turtle's ability to see its shadow,  but even when the bundle reached the crane we were left without a visual.  The roads were blocked off, police were keeping kids from acting up, it was a really big deal.  I suppose we could have asked someone then and there what was happening but trying to figure it out was helping pass the time.

The real story is that we may have witnessed the last living member of this particular species of giant tortoise (a shell of six feet in diameter) being hauled from a polluted lake for medical treatment for lesions and general poor health.  It is unknown whether this tortoise is a Rafetus swinhoei (in which case it is one of four remaining on the planet) or another closely related species with no other surviving members.
Another great afternoon.

The People You Meet

His name was Almos. A few days ago we stopped to get a bite to eat at a Pho stall on our way to Ho Chi Min's Mausoleum. Almos rolled up on a Honda Dream moped with his his white hair tinted a subtle shade of pink. He was a Hungarian man living and working in Hanoi. I guessed his age to be somewhere in the late sixties to early seventies. Nathan and I had just started slurping down our soups when Almos plopped down beside us. He was clearly there to meet a woman at the next table, thirty to forty years his junior, but was distracted by us. It became clear the woman he was meeting was his wife when he started barking orders at her to practice her English.
I don't know how Almos did it, but within 45 seconds he had Nathan talking sustainable energy and conservation techniques. It was at this moment that things took a turn towards twilight zone. Nathan used the expression 'low hanging fruit' to describe something and Almos nearly jumped out of his skin with excitement.
'Low hanging FRUIT! This is brilliant! I must remember this expression! LOW HANGING FRUIT!'
From his enthusiasm you might have thought Nathan had revealed the meaning of life. In exchange for his newly acquired nugget of language gold, Almos did something interesting. He pulled out what appeared to be a collage completed by a middle school student, photocopied in black and white. He had a stack of them, and handed both Nathan and I each a copy.
'What do you think of this!? Please give me your honest impressions.'
The image as best I can explain: two horses face to face, one had reins being held by a teen girl wearing a leather outfit, cowboy hat and a belly shirt that Almos must have thought in poor taste because he covered her mid-drift with black marker.
Naturally we were both at a loss for words. Silence lingered as we tried to figure out what was going on while also appearing to thoughtfully appreciate the 'art'.
I broke the silence. 'Almos, what is this... And why do you have dozens of copies in your bag?'
Thankfully my query was not taken as insulting. Almos went on to tell a long winded tale (twenty minutes at least) of a tortured artist named  'Cowboy' who looked just like the woman in the picture. He was trying to gather objective comments about the image to report back to the artist. It was unclear whether the artist in question knew of Almos's project, or for that matter..Almos.
'Also, you'd never guess it by looking at the picture, but the two horses are actually in love.' He finished.
We sat with Almos for almost two hours. He spent five minutes inexpertly blowing snot through a nose flute, then handed it over to Nathan insisting he give it a blow. I am certain the grimace of disgust at sharing nose mucus with Almos showed on both of our faces.. but Nathan was a good sport.
Almos gave us his wife's cell phone number and made us promise to call them and either come to their house or meet them out for dinner before leaving Hanoi. We left the restaurant with smiles and hand shakes.
Last night Nathan and I went out to dinner and while talking about recent adventures realized neither one of us had spoken a word about Almos to the other.
'Something was wrong with that guy.' Nathan offered.
We both had a good chuckle... We've met enough nut jobs that Almos almost missed the cut as a topic of conversation. I kept their phone number in my pocket..and we're still deciding whether or not to call them.  On some level it seems a good idea.  It would certainly make for an interesting and unpredictable evening.  The possible down side of being swindled in some way, or captured in a Hungarian man's basement might not be enough to dissuade either of us from digging a little deeper.
Will update.