Xin Chao & Câm On
Hi friends. And family. Hi, mom.
In the weeks since we last checked in, we’ve found ourselves moving in strange ways. Three countries, two time zones, five airports, a tuk tuk, three water taxis, the Reunification Express, two rental scooters and a pair of hotel shuttles.
We’ve also founding ourselves hearing from more of you, which continues to be great.
“WHAT ARE YOU EATING?” is a consistent reply. So… voila! A culinary section, below.
And, from my Uncle Steven in Connecticut:
“I don’t always know who’s writing, but make sure the female perspective is included. It’s often very different from us men.”
Indeed.
Because it can be unclear at times, these missives are the collective work of both Pete and Meredith. Pete tends to do the writing, and Meredith tends to curate the photography and interject with thoughts, inclusions and ideas.
So behold, our third entry. Extra attention paid to the balance of perspectives, and more mention of food, because FOOD.
Please keep the thoughts coming. We love you guys.
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Where we were: Nepal, Thailand
Where we are now: Vietnam
How long we’ll be here: 1 month
Hello: Xin chao (ting-chow)
Thank you: Câm on (come awn)
Bonus word: “YO!”, Vietnamese for “Cheers!”
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A week into our trek through the Himalayas, we were 13,000 feet in the air, buried in snow, and heading out in near dark to reach vaunted Annapurna Base Camp around dawn. As the sun started to break over a sea of white, we heard little else but the sound of labored breathing, the crunch of footsteps, and the soft padding of —
Is that a dog?
It was a dog.
14,000 feet up and unaccompanied, it seemed. Somehow this canine Bear Grylls had followed us up the final stretch of our ascent, deep into the reaches of the Annapurna Circuit, and decided to escort the group the last five or so hundred meters to Annapurna Base Camp. Where the dog came from is unclear. But there he was. Hiking alone through this vast winter desert, to a tiny hut in the shadow of the world’s tallest mountains.
One of the many charms of the Himalayas is the impossibility of capturing them with a camera. There are postcards and calendars and t-shirts all over the country promising to let you take them home, but your best shot at that is to just stop hiking and stare for awhile.
I love staring. Meredith gives me gas for it, and I understand it makes the queasy uncomfortable, but how can you not? People are fascinating and weird. They’re asking for it. And with the Himalayas, when you’ve thrown up, fallen down, wheezed and tossed out what once were perfectly good underwear just to see them up close, you stare.
A brief moment to acknowledge a gift we received.
To Pete’s brother Doug and his girlfriend Hayley, who flew to Asia for the first time in their lives, almost hit a cow on their way into Kathmandu, battled the haze and smog and masala tea, rallied, puddle jumped into a giant mountain range, got haircuts from wild Nepali barbers, hiked for 11 days, slept in avalanches, got eaten by leeches and spent an extra night in China on their way home: HOW AWESOME WAS THAT?
We said it before and we’ll say it again - having friends and family spend their time off with us is a gift that beats any object we can buy in any store on this earth. Pete’s not a crier, but it makes him unspeakably happy that his brother came all the way across the world to spend some time together. We won’t ever forget it. Thanks, Buzz. Thanks, Hayley.
People often said before we left, “Try to be present as much as possible on this trip.”
When we’re home, mindfulness is challenged by the potency of cell phones and work, the melding of one day into the next that is both Northern California climate and the inherent repetition of jobs we know.
Abroad, for some reason, our efforts to be mindful have been pleasantly mindless.
We’re not really sure why. It could be that visits from friends and family create moments we can mark and appreciate often. Maybe it’s that every room we wake up in is one we’ve never slept in before and probably won’t sleep in again. It could be that we haven’t stopped recognizing how lucky we are to be able to do this, and saying that to each other.
Regardless, one of the more consistent things we experience is a focus on the day that sits in front of us.
Earlier tonight, we were haggling with a street vendor for two candles we wanted to light for our moms in Hoi An. Hoi An is this ancient little town covered in lanterns halfway up the J of Vietnam’s back, and for a few bucks, a woman will row you down the river and let you cast a candle into the water. It's romantic.
And here we were, screaming at her.
“300,000 DONG!” “THAT'S SIX TIMES THE PRICE! TAKE US BACK!” “OKAY, OKAY, 200,000!” "NO, TOO MUCH!" Eventually, we agreed on a number and the screaming subsided and we were holding candles quietly for our mothers while this woman rowed.
We were silent for a beat and then Mere said, “Well, that sucked, but this is nice.” And it was.
It's easy to confuse “being present” with recognizing only the beauty in the world, but maybe it’s also about seeing when things are hard and then recognizing when they’ve gotten a little easier.
Man that lady was annoying.
Now here's a cute picture of her that makes us look like jerks.
A simple run-down of where we’ve been and what we’d tell you to do/not do there.
NEPAL
Annapurna Circuit
There are a thousand ways to hike the Annapurnas, and they’re all probably incredible. We stayed in little tea houses along the trail, ate with the porters and guides, chatted with people from all over the world, and hiked through every climate imaginable: rainy jungles and rhododendron groves and bamboo forests and icy glaciers. We couldn’t recommend it more highly.
Pokhara
Your launchpad for the Annapurnas is a hippie little town on a lake that’s filled with nice places to eat and buy organic paper postcards. A bit overhyped we would say, but we were also in and out of there and can only rave about the spa at Hotel Middle Path that eased 11 days of hiking from our shoulders.
THAILAND
Bangkok
A sprawling, modern mash of cultures, street stalls, high-rises, tourists, temples and tuk tuks. At one point we were visiting a holy buddhist monument on a sweltering day and found ourselves behind a college-age girl with a “I HEART LIQUOR - Miami, FL” trucker hat strapped to her bag. Before I could alert Meredith, a long bright line of little monks no older than 9 in flowing orange robes walked into the temple on a field trip. They knelt down, chanted loudly while the whole place stood silently, then got up together and left. It felt quintessential Bangkok.
As a gift, Mere bought me ringside tickets to a muay thai fight. Young men (too young, both Meredith and Meredith's mom would say) parade out in headgear and dance around the ring to strange, high-pitched music in an elaborate, pre-fight ceremony. I later found out that the instrument used to narrate the matches (the melody and rhythm of the band's music evolves to reflect the fight) was something called the Pee Chawaa, which I recommend looking up just to hear the sound of. It's incredible, and I'm 90% sure Lucas ripped it off for the bar scene on Tatooine in Star Wars.
The gentleman below in the blue shorts was knocked unconscious about 3 minutes after this photo was taken, prompting Meredith to tear up. "This is too violent." "But babe, it's a boxing match. What did you-" "They're just babies." We left shortly thereafter, but a big kiss to Meredith for treating me to something she hated.
VIETNAM
Ho Chi Minh
Industrial and loud, Ho Chi Minh City feels like the business-minded kid brother to Hanoi. Bank after bank, warehouse after warehouse, hotel after hotel. There are probably charming parts to it if you know the right people, but we had a beer at a thumping western bar, sweltered in the heat, went back to our windowless hotel room down an alley and decided it was time to move on.
Phu Quoc Island
A slice of Hawaii just off the coast of Vietnam and Cambodia. The developments are going up quickly and the airport is big enough to service New York, but for now, it’s 40% national park and otherwise quiet roads and little beach resorts. We stayed at a place called Salinda, which was lavish and extremely lovely. To save cash, we rented a scooter, buzzed around to cheap restaurants on stilts over the water, and ate at our new favorite spot on earth called Saigonese in the town of Duong Dong.
Hoi An
We’re currently in the ancient town of Hoi An still yelling at a boat lady. But honestly, this place is incredibly charming. It’s like Amsterdam meets New Orleans meets Vietnam, only smaller and with (mostly) just the good parts. People tend to come here to get things handmade by the array of tailors in town, but there are enough lanterns, bicycles and cool looking buildings to keep everyone happy.
For those interested in the tailoring: Mere got two cotton dresses, a skirt, a two-piece wedding outfit and two shirts custom made for just over $200. Pete got a full tux, a three-piece suit, a two-piece suit, three dress shirts, three silk ties and two pairs of custom leather shoes made for about $600.
NEXT UP
Our time in Vietnam lasts two more weeks.
In a few days we head into the Phong Nha jungle, close to the border of Laos, to hike with a group called Oxalis through the largest cave in the world: Son Doong. It was recommended to us by our friends Sha & Matt, who have been a treasure trove of great ideas and tips on how to pull all of this off. Apparently the cave is big enough to fly a 747 through the middle of it without clipping a wing, and long enough that we'll be hiking for 5 days without reaching the end.
From there, we meet up with Benna & Alex, two close friends from San Francisco, for a weeklong motorcycle trip with the old school Easy Riders through the mountains of northern Vietnam. Then it's Mere's 31st birthday in Hanoi, so we're working out whether she's going facial-massage-manicure or if she'll totally fly off the handle and go massage-manicure-facial.
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That’s it for now. If you’re still reading, you get a hug. Later. But you get a hug.
Please write. We miss you guys.
Mere & Pete
