Xin Chao & Cam On: Part II

Hi, friends. And family. Hi, mom. 

We’re trying to make quicker work of these newsletters in the hope they go out more often. It should make each a less daunting read, and, selfishly, allow us to hear from you more often.

Below is our last half month in Vietnam. Two weeks of beaches and haggling in the south gave way to jungles, caves, and rice paddies in the north. We rode motorcycles and trains, sat in hot springs with 85 year old naked Vietnamese ladies and abided by street lights that were, apparently, purely ornamental.

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Keep saying hi. It makes us feel closer to home. 

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Where we’ve been: Vietnam
How long we’ve been here: 1 month
New words:  “Oi gioi oi dep qua”: Oh my god, that’s beautiful. 
“Di nao”: Let’s get out of here. 
“Ahn Bop dep chai”: Our cook Bop is a handsome man.
Where we’re headed next: Italy
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April 30th, and the streets, alleys and doorways on the outskirts of Hanoi are draped in national flags. It’s Independence Day, celebrating the end of what the country calls “The American War,” and we’ve come to a quiet village to escape the hustle and hassle of Hanoi. 

Our reward is a simple landscape with one place to eat. 

As we walk into the restaurant that evening, the arrival of two blonde Americans turns a table of 20 bustling Vietnamese into a tableau. 

Blinks and coughs. Darting eyes. A look of confusion from one woman at the end of the table. 

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. 

A few minutes pass. We order food using a homemade cheat sheet. The waiter is being patient. 

Eventually, a gentle-looking man from the long table can’t help himself. He comes over and looks at us. The words start coming out quickly and abruptly, but the sentiment feels significant, and after a few long-winded sentences in Vietnamese, he touches his hand to his chest and points to the table. He’s brought over a cold beer. He pops it open and hands it to Meredith. 

A gift. We turn to the table of 20 and they all raise their glasses. 

A half hour later, we’re 5-7 shots deep in floor-varnish-strength rice wine with a group of older men, I’m on a microphone singing Vietnamese karaoke in English, and the head of the long table is ordering an enormous fish from the menu and motioning it over to us.

The everyday of Vietnam wasn’t always easy. The heat can be exhausting. The lack of space, the language barrier, the need to be vigilant weighed on us. 

But then it’s Independence Day, a day that could be heavy with residual distrust, and it’s not. You’re drinking rice wine, and ripping the microphone out of a kind man’s hands so you can butcher one of his country’s anthems. 

We walked home late that night in the dark. 
Mere: “How cool was that?
Pete: “Amazing. I wonder what that first guy was saying to us.” 
More walking. 
“Just that he’s happy to have us in his country.” 
Walking. 
“You speak Vietnamese?” 
“I could just feel it.” 

Very true.
— 

Even amidst the great moments, there’s a layered strangeness to Vietnam.

A trip to the “Hanoi Hilton” that imprisoned Senator McCain and other American POW’s during the war, for example, is a frustrating lesson in Vietnamese propaganda. Owning property as a working class Vietnamese - our motorcycle guide Ta told us - involves paying off everyone, top to bottom. The half-finished construction projects littering the country’s skyline are skeletons of the many money laundering schemes of government officials.

But the air of optimism among the everyday Vietnamese is palpable. Everyone is eager for what’s to come. Tomorrow will be better than today, and today was better than yesterday, and yesterday wasn’t bad. 

It makes you think whatever Vietnam you leave behind won’t be the same you come back to.  

____

We had this incredible guide in Ke Bang National Park named Dzung (pronounced “Yewn”) who took us on a long trek through Hang Son Doong, the largest cave in the world. Every day for 5 days straight, any unfamiliar English word spoken in our group he’d look up on his phone and try using in a sentence. 

His reading and writing skills were textbook, so Dzung reveled in knowing the weirder stuff. Catchphrases and colloquialisms. Expressions he could find in popular YouTube videos. 

At one point, backed by the largest cave echo in the world and responding to someone who needed medical ointment, Dzung shouted, “Women be shoppin’!” 

“Shoppin… 
shoppin… 
shoppin… 
shoppin…” 

He learned how to whip. And nene. He had me film him climbing a tree because he thought I’d want to show it to friends later. A selfie of Mere and me became 3% Meredith, 4% Pete and 93% Dzung. Meanwhile, he hadn’t had a day off in two months and didn’t seem to care. 

Energy, energy, energy.

—

Our last morning in Vietnam, Meredith and I went out for a nuclear-grade Vietnamese coffee in Hanoi’s Old Quarter. We sat on tiny stools melting into the sidewalk. In the same instant that we were complimenting Vietnam’s enterprising style, a man poked me in the arm and spoke in lightning fast Vietnamese. He pointed to a small cart of belts he was selling.

I actually needed a belt. After a bargain of frowns and whimpers, he wrapped raw leather around my waist. Out came a kit of tools; the notching of holes in the strap; adjusting the length; reattaching the buckle; putting it back around my waist.

Custom leather belt, 45 seconds flat. $7. 

This country is on fire.

—

It should no longer surprise us that the arrival of friends and family during our travels makes us as happy as it does. But then two of our pals from San Francisco, Benna and Alex, arrived in northern Vietnam and the joy and adventure ratcheted up another notch.

Disobeying our mothers and the sharp minds at Liberty Mutual Insurance, we strapped travel bags, ponchos, and our girlfriends to 150cc dirt bikes and headed out into the gridlock in Hanoi. Alex - who had never depressed a motorcycle clutch in his life - wheelie’d through his first stoplight and didn’t turn around until we were out in the countryside. 

What followed was nearly a week of tipping over bikes in banana tree-laden jungles, muddying up the undercarriages through creeks and floodplains, finding peace in sprawling fields of electric green rice paddies, getting chased by piglets in a mountain village, ferrying ourselves and our bikes over lakes, and riding through a 20km cloud that would put Karl the Fog to shame.

It was, in a word… bwwwaahaaaaaaaaheeeeehhhhhhbwwwwwwaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. 

MVP status goes to Alex, who learned to ride a motorcycle one minute and took it into an American Gladiators obstacle course the next. And to Benna for spearheading a week that will be seared into our memories like it was burned on there by a tailpipe. Thanks, friends.

—

PEOPLE
We meet great strangers, and they don’t always have a place in our anecdotes. 

NAKED LADY
Near the border of Laos, a natural hot spring along the river was filled with 85 year-old ladies bathing totally nude. Just like they do every day in the hot spring. They couldn’t have been more unfazed by our presence; they motioned for us to take our clothes off instead, and join them. 

Benna snapped this shot of an especially smiley bather after her ritual. The black on her teeth is a charred wood residue local people use, apparently, to preserve enamel. And to scare everyone to death. 

THREE SMOKES GUY

Another serendipitous run-in somewhere in the hills. He really, really liked the girls. Which we might have guessed, given his hat. When we thought about leaving after our ice creams were finished, he pulled out his 3-smokes-at-a-time trick to keep Mere and Benna around. 

VIPER MAN

Construction on the road had accidentally killed a viper and this guy couldn’t stop smiling about all the attention he was getting. Eventually, a passerby gave him a fistful of cash, put the snake in a plastic bag, shoved it under the seat of his scooter, and drove off. So awesome.

—

WHERE WE’VE BEEN

A brief rundown of our two weeks in central and northern Vietnam for interested parties.  

Da Nang to Dong Hoi

The “Reunification Express” is what officials call the train connecting north to south in Vietnam, though locals are quick to laugh at you for calling it anything other than just “the train.” However you say it, the stretch of railway we rode for 6 hours from Da Nang to Dong Hoi was breathtaking. All palm trees, farms and abandoned beaches along pristine central coastline. Hot food served on rolling carts. Reclining chairs. Big windows.

Phong Nha

Phong Nha village is the geographical center of the country and serves as home base for an abundance of jaw-dropping caves. There’s a river to kayak and swim, bike paths taking you through the countryside, and countless homestays to get a feel for Vietnamese life.

Ke Bang National Park / Son Doong Cave

Up there with the Himalayas for the most beautiful thing we’ve seen in our lives is Son Doong Cave. Miraculously, it was only discovered in 2009 by Adam Spillane and his team. A 5-day trek with Oxalis - the only operator allowed inside - is the most expensive thing we’ll do all year by a wide margin, but it’s unfathomably beautiful. To put the allure of Son Doong in perspective, fewer people have been inside it than have been on the summit of Mount Everest. And Adam, quite literally the first person inside the cave, was the caving expert assigned to our trip. So it’s still unspoiled. 

Hanoi

Exactly what you’d expect of the biggest city of a communist country during an economic boom. Lots of exhaust and scooters and government buildings and relentless movement. You might see a stray chicken next to a boutique hotel next to a conical hat-wearing 90 year old selling pineapple, and that’s about right. Most people get in and get out of Hanoi - its charms can be elusive - but the longer we wandered the cooler it became. 

Mountain Region (Sapa, Mù Cang Chải, etc.)

Rice paddies that belong in screensavers. Deep breaths of fragrant mountain air. Homestays in little villages where you eat with a family and sleep on mats on their floor. Go, go, go.

—

WHAT COMES NEXT

A good friend of Mere’s from New York - and a fellow Virginia Tech alum - Kate, is getting married in Lake Como, Italy, in a few days. At the start of our trip, when mentioning to her that getting to Italy from Southeast Asia would be tough, Kate's generous, thoughtful response only made us want to go more. So we found tickets to Milan when we emerged from the jungle a few weeks ago and jumped on a plane.   

We’ll be there for two weeks, then fly back across the world to Laos. Because that makes 0% sense. 

— 

The opening line of this issue read, “We’re trying to make quicker work of these newsletters.” 

Not all our dreams come true. 

We love you for still reading. Hugs from afar. 

Pete & Mere