Chad’s Blog

Every weekday for 18 months I’ve walked out of my office building and chatted with Thao who sells roses and gum. She’s possibly the best thirteen year old saleswoman I’ve ever met. It seemed fitting that we would part ways with a photo and one last bouquet of roses.

I’m sad to be leaving Ho Chi Minh City, mostly because I’ll miss the friends I’ve made and the people I work with. I’ll also miss the food. At the same time, I know new adventures await.

I’m used to frozen pre-packaged dinners coming in little cardboard trays and tasting like the cardboard they’re packaged in. In Vietnam, the alternative is a clay pot. I found it along side the freedom fries and meats on sticks that dominate the frozen food section An Phu Supermarket.

It was frozen, wrapped in plastic, and labelled with concise instructions to, “1) Thaw and 2) Cook.” The pot is, in fact, made of clay. It was filled with fish, lemongrass, and a broth for it all to simmer in. It weighed over a kilo and cost a shockingly low 27,000 dong ($1.50 US). It was an impulse buy that I couldn’t resist.

It took about fifteen minutes to cook on the stove top and was absolutely delicious. It’s by far the best frozen dinner I’ve ever had.

I only pulled out my camera twice while in Hoi An. Here’s the result of one of those occasions.

What do you think when you receive an email from a travel agent that says, “Thank you for booking with us. Your flight is fully booked?”

I think it’s reasonable to go to the airport expecting to get on a flight. That wasn’t exactly the case when we arrived at the airport on Friday afternoon.

Arriving at the airport we found out that the flight didn’t exist. After waiting two hours for the travel agent to return from lunch, she said, “Your flight was already full so I couldn’t book your tickets. Didn’t you get my email?”

Instead, I had a long conversation that led to tickets being purchased for the next flight to Danang. My bag contained a couple pair of surf shorts and some t-shirts for a short flight south to the beach. Danang is North to the cold rain.

Thankfully the nearby town of Hoi An is famous for its tailors that can turn out clothes for tourists overnight. I had two cheap long sleeve shirts ready for me at 8:00 a.m. Saturday so I could explore the city somewhat insulated.

Watching Chinese television dubbed over in Vietnamese must be pretty amusing if you speak Vietnamese. For the two English speaking Canadians in the airport boarding lounge, we had to invent the dialogue ourselves. Fortunately the over the top acting gave us plenty to work with.

This encouraging sign was on the inside of a gate to a tourist trap gift shop. Somehow we paid a premium price of an extra 200,000 to our driver to take the long scenic way home. I think this washroom break counted as our scenic stop.

I’m not sure what unsafe conditions exist outside the front gate, other than the possibility of entering another tourist trap.

This return trip to Halong Bay confirmed my memory that the scenery is beautiful. It was also interesting being there in the low season as the bay was much less crowded with tourist boats. The manager of our boat explained that the weather is actually best now, but most people come in Halong’s rainy or cold season because they include it as part of a larger trip of Southeast Asia and come during the dry season in the south.

One of the big sights in Halong Bay, beyond the islands themselves, is Surprise Cave. I really couldn’t figure out what the surprise was supposed to be.

Caves aside, the highlight for me was our short kayak trip.

In a secluded inlet, we watched this owl as intently as she watched us.

The Indochina Sails 2 is the only boat I’ve ever been on that has marble bathrooms. Not too shabby for a couple of rough looking backpackers.

It’s been a long time since I slept overnight on a train. I was actually looking forward to the prospect, but mildly fearful of exactly what “tourist class soft bed” might hold.

I actually slept quite well, especially on the way back from Sapa. I took our early arrival at the station as a chance to try some long exposures of our green and yellow carriages.

The ladies in the market were chatting among themselves when I started examining their wares. I was noticed a few minutes later and the swarming began.

I led the swarm around thoroughly examining what seemed like every indigo dyed Black Hmong blanket, pillow cover, and tunic in Sapa, all offered with the phrase, “You buy me.” Eventually I settled on one that caught my eye. It wasn’t until I walked away that I realized that my hands, into which had been thrust all those embroidered handicrafts, were bright purple with indigo dye.