The Longest Day

And... we're up. It was 4am when the alarm sounded in room 212 of the Canadian Hotel 281. Things were gathered and attempts to polish appearances were made, but lets face it, 4 am is early, I don't care when you go to bed. By 4:40 we were in a taxi, successfully checked out and on our way to the airport. It was raining lightly, but we were bound for a far off land, so that didn't matter much. The airport was simply a formality since we were on a domestic flight, and soon we were aboard a Boeing and pointed toward the Northern coastal city of Hai Phong. The flight left at 6 o'clock and touched down just before 8. The airport at Hai Phong was just a wee municipal job and we walked across the tarmac to the terminal upon arrival. We located our bags and began to ponder our next steps. Our only real plans to that point were to find a way to Cat Ba Island in Ha Long Bay. I knew that tour boats left from a port at Ha Long city, about 45 minutes or an hour from Hai Phong by taxi. So we hopped in a car outside the airport, though we were still reluctant to commit to the ride, and as we made our way toward the local department type store to get a couple things, I bartered over the price of the trip and milked the driver for some information regarding buses to Ha Long City as well. While I sat with the taxi waiting for everyone to return from inside the store I established a deal with him to take us to Ha Long that seemed to satisfy everyone. So off we went, 4 of us and the driver, and I slept most of the way.

When we arrived in Ha Long City a tiring/entertaining/beatuiful/frustrating/interesting chain of events was set off. This part of the country is the most visited, most tourist laden and most open to shady business dealings. Since I'd decided not to book a Ha Long Bay Tour boat ahead of time, we were pretty much clueless as to how we were getting out on the bay and also, to Cat Ba Island. I knew, through some internet research, that boats could easily be arranged for day tours, leaving from a dock in Ha Long. As our taxi rolled along into town, we passed what looked like the dock we should be getting out at and continued into the small downtown area. Eventually our driver stopped in front of a local hotel and of course we were to get out there, probably take a room and book a boat through them as well, because they offered all the services, oh and they were pals with our driver, so naturally we should go there. Anyway, we told the driver to turn around and take us back to the dock we'd seen. He did so, reluctantly, and as we rode we noticed one of the hotel fellas trailing us on his motorbike. When we got to the dock, sure enough this dude was there beside us, walking next to me across the parking lot and hawkin' his boat services. At first we were pretty defensive and standoffish, but after a while we thought, hey, this is what we came here for, we need a boat, and this guy's offering one, why not find out some more. So we talked details, and eventually worked out a deal. We were to get an afternoon tour on the bay, with lunch, some swimming, a cave walk or two, and be dropped off at Cat Ba in late afternoon. It was going to cost us 12 dollars each if my memory serves me right, and it sounded ok. We saw the boat, it looked fine, and we were assured that we would be the only ones aboard, no group crap. So we had a ride in place and it was time to get things organized. The boat guys needed to go to the market to get our food for lunch, I had to go to the ATM, (by this point we'd realized that Dad had forgotten his debit card somewhere in Saigon..) and we had to get general Ha Long Bay access tickets. It didn't take long to do everything a soon we were sitting aboard the vessel in a slight misty rain while the captain and crew of 3 attempted to wiggle it out of the log jam that was the harbour area. A few minutes later we were sailing free and on our way, so far so good.

The weather remained dull for most of the day, which was unfortunate because the beauty of Ha Long Bay was immediately apparent, and blue skies would have accentuated it that much more. We were feeling good, we had also arranged for some Bia Hoi (fresh beer, vietnamese specialty brew) to be bought and brought along, and even though there wasn't nearly enough, our glasses weren't dry at that moment. So we plugged along, cruising among the limestone karsts and atop the emerald coloured water and I was thinking we'd done ok so far. After a while we pulled into port at one of the bigger karsts, this one could have been called an island probably, and discovered that it was one of the caving spots. We walked up some stairs and into one of the biggest and most open caves I've ever seen. The floor of it had been "renovated" in a sense, there was a man made path and coloured lights were set up in many places. Despite the work done on the floor, the roof and walls of the cave were still natural and incredible. It was almost 40 ft high in some places, and the erosion patterns were stunning. When we came out the at the other end of the path our boat was waiting at another dock below. We didn't waste any time in the drizzle and got back aboard and set off again.

The next part of the day is where things went a bit downhill. We sailed along a bit more, taking in the bay, and I went up to the small cockpit area to ask the capitano about lunch and he pointed ahead to a small raft type thing and said we'd be stopping for lunch. The raft turned out to be a little floating fish market, and we alighted there and were encouraged to choose from their selection. So we went ahead and chose a fish, some squid and crab for lunch. Not having seen the food that was purchased for us at the market, and not being told otherwise we thought this was part of our ticket price, having discussed eating seafood before we even left the dock. As the haul was loaded aboard our craft, the owner of the market proceeded to write up a bill for our provisions. It was a ridiculous amount, more ridiculous than any overcharge attempt I've seen anywhere, and I actually laughed in his face. We soon realized that this was not part of what we'd paid for, and what ensued was a lenghthy "conversation" or at least as much of a conversation as my vietnamese skills would allow, as none of our hosts spoke english. We squabbled over the fact that we weren't told that we'd have to pay for this stuff, the fact that they tried to charge enough to feed, clothe, and entertain them for 6 months and the fact that the way they'd gone about the whole procedure was underhanded and low. Eventually we ended up giving them a less than a quarter of their original price and got the hell outta there. Later we realized that we should've just parked ourselves on their dock and said there's no way were giving you anything, but hey, monday morning quarterbacks right. So now we had more food than any family of four could possibly eat and we were back on our way. The boat crew, who were now viewed as "real pieces of shit"(to be read in a mark klages tone)because they were clearly in cahoots with the fish farm dudes, actually cooked it up nicely and it was a good feed. Of course they reeped the benefits of all of our leftovers at the end.

Around 4 o'clock or thereabouts, we were dropped off at another dock and told that this was Cat Ba Island. Now I knew that the island had a town on it, and I knew the town was small, but there was nothing in sight at this place. It was still drizzling and there also didn't seem to be any form of transport available at this place. Our goal was to get to Cat Ba town, which we were told was 30km away, at the other end of the island (confirmed by a giant map outside the lone building in sight, a visitors office which was closed) We disembarked the boat and were immediately being pestered by motorbike drivers, the only option for transportation it appeared. The idea of a 30k ride in the rain wasn't relished by anyone, but at this point we just needed to relax and get somewhere where we knew we'd be staying for more than a few hours. So we worked out a price and off we went. Just around a bend in the road was a few small houses, apparently all belonging to guys that operate motorbikes from that dock, and those of us who didn't have ponchos already stopped here and obliging wives brought us rain gear, and a couple of the drivers donned helmets. The drive turned out to be ok, the rain was deflected by the person on the front of the bike and the road led through the heart of Cat Ba Island, which was spectacular. Jessie said it looked like Jurassic Park, the Lonely Planet book also says that, and not having seen the movie I took their word for it. When we arrived in town we got slightly seperated, Mom and Jessie's drivers pulled the usual stunt and took them to their buddy's hotel and Dad and I were searching for an ATM as were were out of cash again after the fish farm fiasco. While we were searching for a bank we luckily happened upon a fella standing outside a hotel on a corner in the small town. He spoke ok english and told us where we could get money and also said he owned the hotel we were in front of. He seemed very friendly and after finding Mom and Jess, getting some cash and paying the motorbike boys we ended up checking into his place and getting two fine rooms on the third floor overlooking the idyllic little harbour of Cat Ba town. Finally we had somewhere to settle a bit. The hotelier's name was Tuyen, and staying with him turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip. We took it fairly easy that night, Tuyen got us some more Bia Hoi for the balcony and we purused his day tour options, as we wanted to spend the next day on the bay as well, hoping for better weather, and an overall better experience than we'd had this day. It was good to be in Cat Ba, and good to be in the care of a guy who understood the concept of repeat business and word of mouth, unlike so many of his countymen, who go for as much as they can the first time around throw congneality to the wind.

Author's note: Sorry this one took so long, I was under the weather for 3 days this week and our internet connection has gone for a dump as well. I hope the next one won't take as long. Adam

The Departure

After a mid-morning wake up we slothed our way down to Tom's Restaurant on the seafront below my house. It's a good place for western breakfasts and the location is superb. After eggs and what not, we poked around town a bit more this day, going back to the beach of course, and also finalizing and paying for the flights we had booked for early the next morning.



The weather was good again this day. Before Mom, Dad and Jess arrived I had been a tad fearful that they would be showing up just as the wet season was welcoming itself to town. The fear wasn't realized in Vung Tau though and the weather was highly cooperative while they were here.



This day was pretty laid back, our only commitment was to be at the ferry dock to catch a boat at 2:30, which we did with ease, despite developing a healthy sweat from the 1/4 mile walk from my house to the dock. So by 4pm we were back in Saigon, and found ourselves checking in for a night at the "Canadian Hotel 281". This place is by no means overly 'canadian" in it's layout, design, or functionality, but the rooms were tidy, comfortable and included an in-room computer with internet, a/c, two double beds, cable tv and western style bathrooms, for the price of 35 bucks. This is far beyond my typical budget, but hey, it was on Dad's dime, hehe. So we dumped our bags and wandered into the streets of Saigon's district 1. It was about 5 in the afternoon and the streets were humming with activity, mostly motorbikes of course. This was the first time that the visitors had been treated to the sight of the Saigon traffic melee, having only seen the city from a taxi in the dark two nights before. We were on our way to Ben Thanh, the biggest market in District 1, but by far not the biggest in the city, when the rains came. Luckily we were happening past what would be considered a convenience store back home and settled under the store front awning at a small plastic table, with smaller plastic chairs. All of these places and their neighbours sell bottled beer and that worked just fine for us. In fact even if a place doesn't stock beer, they'll tell you "no problem" when you request it, and then go next door, buy the beer, and charge you what equates to 6 cents more than you would have paid had you been next door yourself, all the while smiling because they've just raked in a tidy profit in doing this. We sat for close to an hour, and had a couple bottles of Saigon Green before the rain let up enough to continue our walk. We made it to the market just as the main part was closing for the night, and we were able to witness the spectacular event that is all of the vendors stuffing their vast amounts of wares into bags and boxes, only to robotically unstuff them all the next morning at some ludicrous hour and spread them across the entirity of their tiny stalls once again. Truly magical. We did pick up a couple things, shirts, and a pair of "super size" (by asian standards) sandals for Dad.

We ate dinner that night at a place recommended by my boss Sarah. It was a vietnamese barbeque joint called "Bo Tung Xeo" and it was quite a spot. The layout is sort of like a big open cafeteria, and the air is thick with smoke throughout, for you see, a vietnamese barbeque restaurant serves plates of raw meat, accompanied by a clay pot, filled with burning coles and topped with a steel grill for you to do your own roastin'. So across the entire place an inumerable amount of table top kitchens were smoldering away and pumping out a delectable aroma. We dined on suckling pig, beef and crocodile meat, and it was tasty indeed. After dinner we walked down the street a block or so, silently letting everyone know where we'd just been through scent alone before hopping in a taxi, no doubt offending the driver, or perhaps making him ravenously hungry, and heading back to the Canadian for the night. The next day was to begin early and be one of the longest of the trip, and after a half-hearted attempt to meet up with my buddy for a drink which didn't work out, we were all dozin' soundly. Wake up was to come at 4am. Ngu ngon! (good night!)

The Update

Howdy Partners, I was off to a roaring start and then fell into a writing funk there for a while due to the consistent waves that keep rolling into Vung Tau. As it is at the moment, When I'm not working I'm surfing basically. Anywho, I'm back at it now and intend to give you some tasty details about the trip.

To follow up on the last post, later on that second night we infact met Brandon for dinner at a place down the street from my house called Plein Sud. It's run by a french fella and his ex-wife, although he is there far more than she, she having established other business pursuits in the recent past, namely a bar and a burger restaurant. At the time of our visit I was a touch on the nervous side as I had been talking to her briefly at the disco the week prior, and had invited her out for a drink. The nervousness stemmed from the fact that I hadn't called her to follow through with it as of yet. While we ate pizza and drank chilean wine I talked with her for a moment and nothing terrible came of it, I actually ended up seeing her on the ferry when we were coming back to Vung Tau from the north at which point we chatted for the full hour and a half ride. Back to the night at hand. After dinner we headed to my friend Giao's bar and small restaurant. Giao is a lady of 27, a good english speaker and a long standing friend of myself, and a few other teachers. She runs a booming seafood "restaurant" and empty bar situated nicely next to all of the other bars in town, and is open late, servicing a few drunken white folk and more drunken locals, sometimes until sunrise. We made our way there, had some drinks and played some pool. Since we had already eaten we were in no position to indulge in Giao's lovely cuisine, but Alex never shies away from a plate of the delicious mi xao bo (fried noodles and beef). The night wasn't too raucus, we made it home in good time, and upon departure I managed to find myself another prospective date, in the form of the divine little bartendress at Giao's. Good times.

The Initiation

After what would best be described as a a hot night's sleep, we all awoke relatively late, myself the latest obviously, because that's what I do. And we started to wander around the house. eventually congregating at a communal point and it was agreed that breakfast was in order.

This is the point in the story where the initiation begins. You see, no honest person can say they've properly visited Vung Tau until they've coaxed some type of motorized, two wheeled vehicle down one of the city's flower lined boulevards, bobbing and weaving one's way through what is often perceived as a morass of denizens atop similar steeds, simultaneously prodding and hurrying their way from A to B. Well, I was and am still now, quite used to this extraordinary experience having been around a while, but for the other pilot in our group, namely Dad, things were a bit more.. adrenaline provoking, shall we say? It began with lovely smoke show, courtesy of the tailpipe of my bike, which had been stagnant a while and needed to be run. What followed was a slow tour through town out to what is called Back Beach, where we were going to eat lunch. Aside from some small shifting issues, and the fact that my "big bike," which Mom and Dad were riding, is merely a 125 cc chinese built circus bike which doesn't quite provide the umph or seating space to escort two grown people comfortably, the ride lacked any major drama. We soon found ourselves seated seaside at a small restaurant, smiling with glee at having accomplished our first journey across town. Lunch was typical Vietnamese cuisine, stir fry, as it's known in the west for Mom and Jessie, and baked fish with steamed rice for Dad and I. All was delicious as I knew it would be, having previously visited this establishment, and we ambled across the street to the beach for a stroll. The beach was empty and the water, hot and blue. We walked a while up the beach and then turned back toward where the bikes were parked. At this point a sense inside us was triggered and it seemed to be known collectively that it was time for a cocktail. We hastened to the Beach Club, not far down the road and bellied up to the bar. It was indeed a fine day for relaxing.

Earlier that week, before everyone arrived, I had gone to a local airline office and booked us tickets to northern Vietnam, where we would be going in a couple days time. What I forgot was that the flights were booked for Thursday morning at 6:30 or so, and as we sipped beers at the bar, I was thinking they were Wednesday. This would mean that we'd be leaving for Saigon that day, which was Tuesday, and the tickets were not yet paid for and picked up. Needless to say, it was hindering our ability to fully relax, and maybe even worrying us a bit. Eventually I realized that I was in fact mistaken and we weren't leaving Vung Tau until the following afternoon, and it felt as though a free day had been injected into our holiday. A weight was lifted from our shoulders and we could finally give the beer and the beach the attention it deserved.

Later that afternoon we found ourselves in the parking lot of ILA, where I work, having just negotiated two of the busiest streets in town at what was easily the busiest time of the day. Sweat wiped off our brows, we tried the doors of the airline office on the bottom floor of the building. Locked. No matter, we would get the tickets tomorrow. At this point we made our way back through town, stopping a few times to look for provisions, such as sandals and sunglasses, and then headed back to the beach club.

That night we dined at the finest place in town, an Italian restaurant on Front Beach known simply as "David". It's owner is a full blooded Italian called Marco, who hails from Florence. His food is some of the best I've tasted and he works ludicrous amounts to make sure of that. Each year he takes a month's holiday and goes home to Italy, every other day he's at the restaurant from open to close, making sure everything is spot on and he does a fine job of it. A short time and just under sixty bucks later, for sixty bucks is the price of fine dining for four people in these parts, lunch was 4 bucks, we made our way home for the night. The following day would be a lot of the same, back to beach club, and wandering about town. After all, Dad was ready for the SuperBike Gran Prix at that point! See you tomorrow!

The Arrival

After a memorable day in Saigon with my pal Lisa, Alex, and two of Alex's friends, a weary Alex and myself ventured to the airport where I would be seeing my family for the first time in 9 months. Obviously it would be Alex's first meeting with them. We made it to the airport in good time, early in fact, only to find out that their flight was going to be delayed in landing. We managed to pass time in the small video arcade near the arrival gate and in about an hour a stream of people were stepping self consciously into the fashion runway type area that the Saigon Airport arrivals area is. Of course, my guests were near the back of the pack, because the people you're waiting for are always some of the last out. In fact, I'm quite sure that the entire front half of the plane is reserved for solo travelers who intend to meet no one, and who keep no one waiting.

The original plan upon meeting was to find a place to stay the night in the city, but earlier that day I made an executive decision and decided that we'd take a taxi from the airport directly to Vung Tau, about 130 km away. This decision was based on a number of factors, but the two most important were as follows: I was tired and sick of the city, and Alex wanted to get back to VT as well and had missed the last boat that afternoon. So there we were, one big happy group piling into a taxi at about 11:30 pm, and off we went to VT.

The ride home wasn't too exciting as far as rides in Vietnam go, due to the time of night, but everyone got to hear the lovely bleat of the horn on more than one occasion, (the horn being a staple of every road journey in these parts) and I got to display some basic skills in tieng viet, otherwise known as vietnamese, thanks to our non-english speaking driver. We made it home around 2, awoke some noisy dogs on my street, had a couple beers next to the pool and called it a night. The family was bushed from flying as far as possible without starting to go home again, and myself, well I mentioned my memorable day in Saigon, but I didn't mention that it was spent at Dam Sen Water Park, as tiring a place as Saigon has to offer. Ngu Ngon (good night) everyone, see ya in the morning!

What's up everybody. Adam here. Long time no talk. How're ya doin'? This'll be the first in a long series of incredibly overdue blogs about the Stevens family follies in Vietnam. Some of you may be thinking, "weren't they there in May?" Well the answer is yes, indeed they were here in May, and indeed I've been quite busy since then! Ha! Well maybe that's not the case, but there have been a couple of things preventing me from getting down to business. First there was the matter of our semi-broken computer. For a month or so it refused to turn on, and the prospect of sitting for hours in a smoky online cafe didn't really thrill me too much. The second thing standing in my way was just that, the hours. I kept imagining how long it would take to write a story of that size and, combined with my penchant for procrastination, well, it just didn't get done. So consider this the briefest of introductions to a story that shall be unfolded for you over the next two weeks, one day for each day of the holiday. Also, a special thanks to my mom, who gave this lazy writer the idea to do this in installments. I hope you enjoy what's to come!