Friday Night in Bangkok

Last night was a strange Bangkok night.

We took the bus to Khao San, a road famous throughout south-east Asia for its Vegas-esque, neo-hippie-backpacker-hobo vibe. It's full of bars, hostels, markets, ping-pong shows, dreadlocks, pirated software (Adobe CS3 for less than $20!), fake I.D.s and southern rock music. The prostitutes don't run openly but they're not hard to find.
Needless to say, it's an interesting street.

We drank some beers in the evening while it rained, then walked into the street again. I had just finished negotiating to buy a tazer when two clear-eyed young travelers approached us.

"Are you going to Cambodia?" they asked.

It seemed like a scam, but why would two clean, young, western kids rip us off?

"Yes, we are, actually," we responded.

They had just returned from Cambodia and had leftover currency they couldn't exchange. They wanted to give it to us. We offered to trade for Thai Baht but they insisted on giving it to us. They weren't sure exactly how much money it was; they just wanted to give it away. We took the money and chatted a bit. They're from Sweden and they liked Angkor Wat.

We counted the money this morning--it's more than $90 USD!

After our Swedish encounter we visited the Internets and walked back to the street. There, in the rain, we saw two familiar faces. Lo and behold, we nearly bumped into Paul and Caterina, an Irish couple we met at a ticket office in Beijing then again on a sidewalk in Hanoi.

We have happened across this couple randomly three times now in three different countries. Third time's the charm, right? This time, we decided to get to know them, so all four of us sat down for more beer and travel stories.

We had a lovely time with them and said our goodbyes.

We wanted to take a public bus back to our hostel in Siam Square. I asked several people which bus to take--it was definitely bus 2, 511, 47 or 29. Hmmm. We eventually started bargaining with two tuk-tuk drivers and a taxi driver. The discussion was not about money but about how much the driver had been drinking. He wouldn't let me smell his breath (or at least I couldn't properly communicate with Thai and miming that I wanted to smell his breath. Try it--it's not easy.) We eventually conceded and went with him.

We drove a few blocks when he pulled to the curb. We thought he might be scamming us. No, he was just looking for his eyeglasses--they were on the floorboard beneath Bonnie's feet.

No big deal, right? Prescription glasses or sobriety--both equally irrelevant for driving at night. Luckily, everything turned out fine with him and we headed back to our hotel.

As we approached the door to our place, a taxi driver rose up from a nap in his driver's seat. He was wearing a plastic bag over his head and gingerly tapped his fingers against the window for our attention. He gave us a sleepy smile and settled back into position as we politely refused. Guess that's his tactic for getting foreigners in his cab late at night?

What connects these unusual events? Nothin but being in Bangkok on a Friday night.

Adventures in Chinglish, Part III

We're in the market for a tailor here in Bangkok. I asked the desk lady at our hostel for a recommendation and she gave me a map with an advertisement for her favorite shop: C.T Chinese Tailor.

It states:

SAWASDEE KRAAB LADY AND GENTLEMAN

ON BEHALF OF C.T. CHINESE TAILOR MANAGEMENT WE WOULD LIKE TO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO WELCOME YOU TO THAILAND. THE LAND OF GOLDEN SMILES: AND WISHING YOU A PLEASANT VISITING. THIS MAP IS IMPLEMENTED FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE EXPECTATIONS NEEDED. THE MAJOR SUBSTANCES IN BANGKOK ARE DESCRIBED E.G. AREAS, TELEPHONES AND STREETS ETC.

C.T. CHINESE TAILOR IS AN OUTSTANDING TAILOR AND DRESSMAKER SERVER. OUR PROFESSIONAL EXPEREIENCE IS OVERE 20 YEARS. OUR PHILOSOPHY PASS-WORD IS TO EMPHASIZE OUR COUSTOMERS'SATISFACTION. RELIABLE AND VALUATIONS. WE ARE LOCATED RIGHT IN THE CENTER OF TOWN WHERE YOU CAN FIND US ON THIS MAP, IN OUR PROPERTY ITSELF IS AVAILABLED OF THE MOST PROVIDED FACLITIES E.G. MATTERIALS, MODELS; AND OUR HOSPITALITY TEAM.

MOREOVER WE ARE AVAILABLED FOR COMPLEMENTARY TRANSPORTATIONS FROM YOUR PLACE TO US ON ROUND TRIP BASIS. PLEASE GIVE US YOUR CALL FOR PICK UP OR DISCUSSION ABOUT YOUR NEW SUITE REQUIREMENT PLEASE FIND OUR TELEPHONE NUMBER HEREIN THE MAP.

SINCERELY YOURS,
THE MANAGEMENT.

Well, now that I know their "philosphy pass-word" includes "reliable and valuations" I might give them my call.

(Editor's note: Adventures in Chinglish aims for light-hearted amusement over language. It does not mean to disparage Chinese English-speakers. We respect their effort to communicate in a second language and we recognize that we sound ridiculous whenever we try to communicate outside of English. We're all just having a laugh together.)

Photographs

All three of our ardent readers have asked where our photos are. The few I've made have been sitting quietly on a hard drive. Honestly, I haven't been much of a photographer on this trip.

Our friend David told me before we left, "You can live it or you can shoot it. You can't do both." Very true. I've been living this honeymoon and enjoying travels with Bonnie, not working for photographs.

Forgive me, then, for taking so long to post images. Forgive me also for the mediocre quality of the images. I've basically made a few travel-snaps, nothing more.

I've posted two separate galleries on flikr.com. The images haven't been cropped, color-corrected or toned at all. Neither are they in any order.

Enjoy:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/oldoutsider/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/oldoutsider2/

Night Trains

We made it to Bangkok just fine this morning. There's loads to say about this bustling city, we're only outlining some thoughts on the night train for now.

We took buses everywhere but Thailand and China, but we got healthy doses of train travel in both places.

Night Train Contrasts:

1. In Thailand, cold bottled water is available for sale in the train. Boiling water is available in Chinese trains, but not if you don't have a container suitable for it!

2. As soon as we boarded, dinner and breakfast were offered to us at our seats in the Thai train. We'd stocked up on food for the ride because in China, that's how it's done. No meals at the seats there unless you're awake when a lady happens by with fried vegetables and rice.

3. Boisterous French neighbors were a brand new addition to our Asian train travels. The most riotous (and rotund) couple kept half the car up trying to fit into the their pull-out beds. They were delightful.

4. Last night, everyone had curtains around their beds! What a difference this would have made in China, where the stares never wane.

5. The Thai train was devoid of pop junk music or tv!

6. There was no set bedtime on the Thai train and each compartment was equipped with a reading light. On the Chinese train, everyone dutifully goes to bed at the designated time.

So, again, we experienced luxurious Thailand! Not to say China's devoid of luxury, you've just got to work harder for it. And when you find it there, by God, you know you've earned it!

Good-Bye Chiang Mai

Our Chiang Mai stint is ending. We leave on a night train for Bangkok in two hours. Both of us are eager to see the difference between the Chinese and Thai train experience. I'm sure we'll fill tell you the endless details.

We've made a comfortable routine here: yoga classes, lots of papaya salad (kind of like cole slaw at home, but spicier), dental work, eyeglass appointments, moped rides, massages, mountain hikes and even kickboxing fights.

Yoga classes abound in this city. We found an instructer that worked for both of us. He's a British fellow with crazy eyes and huge teeth that almost impair his speech. But the guy's a great teacher-- encouraging and brutal enough for both of us. And eccentric as hell. For instance, he rolls his r's in English and Hindi and lectures us on his yogic beliefs as we're in a backbend with sweat soaking our mats. Jim hates for me to use the term "power yoga" for the practice we've studied, but isn't that what fast-forward yoga in a sauna is? The class was hard even for Jim, which lets me know it's on the edge. We dreaded going every session. They lasted 2.5 hours with no breaks and he prodded and bossed the whole time. If he thought you could stretch further, he'd climb on you and press you into position. Students would moan and wimper but he kept pushing. He described his style as somewhat stern and military.

It was great fun, I suppose, but I'm glad that crazy Britt's not pushing me into down-dog no more.

Also, I've needed a dental procedure done for nearly five years, so I figured Thailand would be the place to do it. In case you haven't heard, health care here is top-notch and less than half the cost of home. So, if you've only got catastrophe insurance like me, this is the place to get your teeth cleaned. Although it was kind of awful to get an injection in the gums with people speaking a foriegn language over your dentist chair, the experience was good overall. They gave me a brand new smile at a third of the cost.

Another Chiang Mai event for us was the arrival of our friend, Ben. He's a classmate of Jim's who's finishing up his master's project with a photo of a Thai pimp. His subject matter is the seven deadly sins. Great fun, huh? He came to Chiang Mai over the weekend and it was great fun to explore "amazing Thailand" with him. We took him to a Muay Thai (kickboxing) fight with us on Friday night. Talk about county fairs, man, this was it. Great ringside food, music, and fun. Some of those fighters couldn't have been over fifteen. The style of fighting was kick boxing. Not too bloody or dirty. Really, the most interesting event of the fight was the dance beforehand, which was completely dependent on the musicians in the corner. The music consisted of two drums and a strange oboe-like reed instrument that only played in harmonic/melodic scales. The music orchestrated the fight. They'd speed up the rhythm and the fighters would get more aggresive. And the spicy cole slaw there was the best in Chiang Mai.

We also went hiking on Jim's favorite mountain in the world with Ben. It's called Doi Suthep and lies west of Chiang Mai and has a golden temple on top. We hiked to two waterfalls and a beautifully huge fig tree. The insects and foliage in the jungle are quite different from anything I've ever seen. Some seed pods on the ground were as big as my arm. We had great fun doing that, too. Yeah, the hike was great, but since Ben was with us, we got to rent an extra motorbike and I got to drive. Talk about fun. A moped on the left side of the road all the way up a curvy mountain road built by a monk. Amazing Thailand!!

You can check out Ben's photography of our time together and many other things at:
www.portlandmonk.blogspot.com

You can visit our wacky Britt yogi at:

www.cmyogasala.com

So, we leave on a night train to Bangkok in two hours. We extended our trip until the beginning of October, so we're hoping to have enough time to visit Cambodia before we leave. Goodbye, lovely languid Chiang Mai!

Arkansas

I am very thankful for my Arkansas upbringing when I travel.

First off, people I meet on international travels usually know Arkansas because of Bill Clinton. His name always brings a smile to the conversation, no matter what the reason. He seems to be well-liked overseas. I'm always glad for a positive connection with local folks and little ole Arkansas.

Also, wicked Asian bathrooms would be intolerable if I hadn't periodically dealt with truck stops in West Memphis as a girl. Or septic tanks at my Daddy's log cabin. Or a pile or rotting cow carcasses at my Papa's farm. (Let's let bygones be bygones on that one.)

If I step in animal shit on the road while turning down a tuk tuk driver and dodging a tractor, I think, "What in hell would I do if I hadn't grown up in Arkansas?".

Here's a nod to city folk who lack rural sensibility and venture out here to Asia anyway.
I salute you.

Sweet Ivan

At night, food stalls line a lot of streets in Chiang Mai and they're lit up just like a county fair. All kinds of things are sold at those stalls--gelatinous green desserts, roasted chicken, shish kebabs, sweet soy milk, french fries, beer, and a million other treats. All this mixed with diesel fumes and moped whines and dirt takes me straight back to the White County Fair.
It's fair time back home, isn't it?

The White County Fair is an event of mythical proportions in my memory. My dear grandfather (Sweet Ivan) was president of the fair board in our county, so the fair was a family event for me. What could top the rodeos, horse shows, funnel cakes, merchant exhibits, exotic carnies, nauseating rides and demolition derbies of a county fair?
If you know of something, I challenge you: leave me a comment.
(It can't include a Johnny Cash or Dolly Parton performance at a county fair.)

Chiang Mai till I Die

I haven't written about Chiang Mai since we arrived. The city's so nice, I have trouble organizing my thoughts on it. My three readers might notice this.

It's very easy to be a foreigner in this town. Most everybody is happy to do business or try to converse with me. Thailand naturally offers a lot to the tourist.

Good food and great massage have long histories here. Massage parlors are on nearly every block. Now, this is the real deal here--no surprise "happy ending" massages in Chiang Mai. (I've heard the deliberate ones are pretty easy to find.) That being said, the variety of massages offered is astounding. I've seen some advertised as four-hour ordeals with hot oil and flowers and little Thai women walking on top of people. Nearly every parlor offers hot herb compresses and facials, hand and shoulder massages, feet massages, full body massage, aromatherapy body treatments and a million other luxuries. They're cheap, too! We're talking 3 dollars for an hour.

And the food's just fabulous. It's delicious to begin with, but always served with a cacophony of spices: sugar, salt, pepper, red pepper sauce, green pepper sauce, and dry red pepper. Some of the spice containers take up the entire table. We've been able to eat cheap and well every day and there's still several hundred restaurants we want to try.

Little laundry places, hair and nail shops, alteration places, coffee shops, book stores and Seven Elevens are all over the place.

The Thai people are kind and laid back. They remind me a lot of people from the South. The streets are full of tableaus that remind me of summer birthday parties or fish fries back in Arkansas. The women gab at every passer-by while teenage boys fly past on motorcycles and men work together on engines. And the people are quick to smile or share a laugh. Mangy dogs weave in and out and between everything and everybody all the while.

You know, one drawback is the pedestrian situation in Chiang Mai. Much like the States, many streets just don't have sidewalks. You're either walking in the front of somebody's shop or in the street with a million mopeds and couple thousand diesel trucks and three wheelers too. But, Jim's former co-workers let us borrow a scooter he used to ride. He's the driver; I'm on the back watching the city swirl by. It's great fun.
Don't worry; we wear helmets.

By the way, Jim and I usually work together on posts, but I'm solo on this. Feels a little odd. Everybody needs an editor, right?

Limbo

We got stuck at the border between Vietnam and Laos. We were anxious from the get-go: we didn't have onward bus tickets once we crossed, we'd heard of trouble here from other foriegners, and we had to get our Laos visas at the crossing.

We started early, with enough money in U.S. dollars to pay for both our visas. We walked to the border, exited Vietnam effortlessly, and crossed into the no-man's-land (around half a mile) between Vietnam and Laos. The visa official on the Lao side was still at home so we waited for him to arrive. When he showed, he filled a page of our passport with stamps and scribblings and asked for the fee--$80 U.S. dollars. This was a bit higher than we expected but no big deal. We had two $100 bills and about $50 in smaller bills.

This is where the trouble starts.

The official wouldn't take our money because it wasn't new. Ben Franklin's face was smudged on both bills. He said Lao banks wouldn't accept the bills so he wouldn't either.

So, we were stamped out of Vietnam and Laos wouldn't let us in.

The official was an ass. He seemed to enjoy our misfortune, chuckling condescendingly to himself and saying officially, "We only take cash." We had cash--cold, hard American cash that would stand up in any establishment most anywhere in the world! He smugly suggested we go back to Vietnam and try to exchange for Vietnamese Dong. How would we do that, however, when our visas were already stamped? And where would we change money in a small town on Sunday?

We decided that Bonnie should stay at the Laos border while I fanagled back into Vietnam. I eventually explained my situation to the Vietnamese several border officials--we have money trouble, my wife at Laos border, I go back to Bao San hotel. They took my passport and told me to return in less than an hour.

I had no local currencies, only the U.S. Dollars, so I walked the 1.5 mile to the hotel and explained the situation to Lynn, the English-speaking employee we met the night before. She was great and had helped us several times. Lynn said the bill was, indeed, old. And the banks were closed since it was Sunday. But she knew some "gold sellers" who might help us.

She returned thirty minutes later. A "gold seller" took the bill at 14,100 Dong-$1.00 USD rather than the standard 16,000-1. We lost more than $12 in the exchange but it saved our ass. I paid Lynn nearly $5.00 (in Vietnamese Dong) for rescuing us, so $17.00 of our $100 was gone. I spent another dollar on a motorbike to the border. That left us about $83.00 USD (in Dong) to pay the $80.00 visa fee.

When I returned to Laos the official said we needed to pay an $8.50 USD fee for paying in Dong and not USD. Bonnie had a $5.00 USD bill and we paid the rest in Vietnamese Dong (and maybe a bit of Laotian Kip). He stamped our passports and we walked through.

While I was trapsing between countries, Bonnie stayed at the same border post with the same smug officials for nearly two hours. The locals with broad hats and face-masks milling about for Dong-Kip money exchanges and contraband commerce stared shamelessly. But a spunky old Vietnemese woman took Bonnie under her wing and gave her some food and companionship.

We then found a bus across Laos to Savanakhet, on the Loa-Thai border. That evening, we ate dinner with two quirky British girls and watched the lights of Thailand glimmer across the Mekong River.

Hue to Chang Mai in 5 Days Flat

We've covered some ground since last we wrote. Although all three of our ardent readers have wondered if we got locked in an Asian prison since that last post, we simply arrived in Chiang Mai and got lazy. This town is a little like that.

And truth be told, we started having fun instead of kicking against the goads of low-budget South-East Asian travel.

But there's lots to tell!

Hue was where we left off. We spent a night there and planned to get out quickly the next day. Although it was smaller and quieter than Hanoi, it was littered with pushy touts at every corner! We couldn't walk two blocks without getting hassled for a motorbike ride, a shampoo or a tour of the DMZ (De-Militarized Zone). So, last Saturday, we took a five-hour local minibus to Lao Bao, the border town on the Vietnam side of the Laos-Vietnam border. We arrived in the afternoon and were told we'd need to wait till morning to cross.

Just as the locals in Hue warned, Lao Bao was a "sad", "small" town where the youth had nothing fun to do but cause trouble. It was a strange little place where we couldn't get straight answers and had to surrender our passports for the police to look over.

The next morning, we got stuck at the border (Check out the "Limbo" post) and eventually chanced to catch a five-hour bus to Savannaket, a town on the Laos-Thai border. We decided to stay there for a night, see a bit of Laos, and head for amazing Thailand in the morning. That night, we could see the lights of Thailand glimmering across the Mekong River. Almost there.

In the morning, we got a bus through the Laos exit border (no troubles!) and into Mukhadan, Thailand. Then we took a four-hour bus to Kahn Kaen. This was a very pleasant school bus ride with mostly Thai school girls. They loaded at the most interesting towns and houses. Upon arrival in the evening at Kahn Kaen, we bought tickets for a night bus to Chiang Mai!

Chiang Mai by morning!

And that's how we arrived in this beautiful green town. Early in the morning after a night bus after a school bus after two borders and a lot of Asian countryside.

China vs. Vietnam

Vietnam was a welcoming country that sharply contrasted our Chinese travels. In fact, we started a list of the differences we experienced in our short Vietnam visit:

Difference 1:

Ease of travel. Our challenge in China was navigating the system alone. In Vietnam, the challenge was escaping everyone who wanted to help us. We found tourist agencies everywhere. They have package deals on every bus, train and plane everyplace you'd want to go.

The agencies seemed legit and honest but we decided early to do things on our own. But nobody would give us information outside their own tour packages. "Where's the bus station?", we ask. "You don't need it, we'll book the bus for you," they respond. What a world away from the train stations of Beijing, no?

Difference 2:

Food. In China, there's a restaurant full of bored waitresses every couple blocks. Inside, we found good food, evenwith a Mandarin menu. We knew how to say "spicy tofu", "spinach or tomato and egg", "dumplings", "rice", or "soup". Now, who in the world could go wrong with that in China? Suffice to say, we ate well there. And the Chinese loved watching us do so.

Vietnam was a different story. The best things we found to eat were mock western foods--mostly of the breakfast type. Yes, the coffee was good and easy to find. But the food was not so. The local street food looked and smelled just plain bad. Very different from the Middle Kingdom.

Difference 3:

The businessmen in Vietnam weren't out-right assholes! Anybody who's spent time in China has heard the hollers and seen the drunken, red-faced, Chinese businessmen at their Bijou lunches. In Vietnam, we were floored to see a group of businessmen acting quite pleasant with one another and their waitresses. One night at a hotel in Lao Bao, Vietnamese businessmen packed the main restaurant to watch a football match between Vietnam and Qatar. We watched the game alongside them, making toasts and friends.

Difference 4:

Vietnam is more open and worldly than China. The TVs in Vietnam broadcast networks from America, France, Germany, China, Australia, etc. The Chinese mostly show a dozen versions of CCTV (the state-run television network), some Peking Opera, and soap operas set in the Ming Dynasty.

Many Vietnamese speak a bit of English and French and they don't gawk at outsiders. We got by on our English the whole way through Vietnam after limping through China on limited Mandarin and the occasional English phrase. (Then again, America's nearly as bad as China on this one--both kingdoms share a broad monolingual weakness, although America's gaining a Spanish understanding [But that's Un-American, I hear.])

We were also warmly greeted everywhere, even as Americans. Barely a generation ago, America bombed the bejesus out of Hanoi and much of North Vietnam. Nobody gave us any trouble over it. (This may be different in rural Vietnam and in the South, we didn't visit there)China, it seems, holds a grudge longer--or at least more vocally. Many Chinese still openly hate Japan over the aggressions of the 1930s. At the Summer Palace in Beijing, which was sacked by French and British troops in the 1800s, two students asked me my home country. They were glad I wasn't from the offending countries, they said, because then they would "beat me with limbs" from a nearby tree.

-----------
It seems we're just bitching about China. Not so. We've met great people and fine institutions there. And our most memorable travels still begin in the Middle Kingdom.

So, Why's the Bus Cheaper, Again?

We traveled 14 hours from Hanoi to Hue last night in a clean, new sleeper bus. Three travel agents suggested the bus--cheaper and faster than the train. We visited the train station and confirmed that it was about 40% more expensive and two hours longer. It was the bus for us.

We asked the hostel guy why the bus was cheaper. He speculated on government inefficiency in the train system. We learned otherwise.

For starters, the shuttle from the hotel to the bus wasted an annoying hour--we could have walked or rode motorcycles easier. The big bus, when we finally arrived there, was new and fresh with three rows of double-decker bunks. They slanted so your feet slipped under someone else's head. Not a bad arrangement unless you're in the back row like Jim. Those beds were slanted more severely, shorter, and Jim was canned from the mid-thighs down.

They said the bus stopped once . It actually stopped five or six times to pick up passengers and cargo or visit truck stops. Around 3:00 a.m., it picked up five fellows who slept in the aisles.

The roads themselves added an element of adventure. Highway travel here is one continuous game of chicken. The road is marked for two lanes but a de facto third lane lies between where traffic passes head-to-head with opposing passing traffic. Several times, our driver lost the chicken game, resulting in quick brakes and dislodged luggage. Also, many miles of the roads are pocked, so the ride is like hours in a turbulent airplane.

Worse for Bonnie was the noise. Asians seem to have a penchant for loud music videos when they travel, mostly pop junk. Our bus played the same DVD repeatedly--a handful of songs in a show called "Paris by Night in Korea" which featured Vietnamese pop crooners performing for a Korean crowd. (I'm not sure where Paris fits in.) Bonnie's head lay not two feet from a speaker, so she got the brunt of it. And it was loud. She plugged her ears and tried to sleep but couldn't stop herself from mentally notating the music, as if she were transcribing in her sleep.

The music stopped at 11:00 p.m. but the dutiful driver started it again at 6:30 a.m. During short lulls, a neighbor kindly filled the gap with French tunes from his cell phone.

The journey was fun, however. There were three other foreign couples--blonde, quiet, germanic folk; bothered Brits; and a sexy, young French couple who periodically climbed into one another's bunks. Those French do have a way about them.

Like Schools of Fish

I had trouble finding a good excuse to leave Hanoi, but we departed last night for Hue. Chang Mai's where it's at for us, so we gotta press on. Hanoi was an interesting contrast to China and a good place to relax. We were worried about changing money and our ability to communicate, but most establishments take U.S. dollars and speak English. What a world away from Beijing!
As much as we thrive on the confusion in China, we have enjoyed the ease of traveling Vietnam so far.

The roads are narrow and busy in Hanoi. Beautiful women in conical hats selling bananas squat on the same block as French perfume stores and cafes. I saw the French influence all over the place. Jim and I took motorbikes to get around and it was great fun--the Arkansas four-wheeler ridin' kind of fun. Motorbikes rule the road in Hanoi and traffic at big intersections looks like schools of fish moving through water. For entertainment one night, we sat on a balcony of a restaurant watching an intersection with six directions of traffic merging and no traffic signs or lights. Bicycles, pedestrians, motorbikes, cars and buses moving in a constant stream.

We also visited the corpse of Ho Chi Minh and a museum about his life. Are we becoming tourists of communism? We had to ask ourselves this after realizing we've seen the bodies of Mao and now Ho Chi Minh. The only one left is Lenin. Maybe we'll go to Russia and Cuba next.

We also stopped by the Army museum in Hanoi, which was of great interest to both of us. We saw U.S. helicopters and airplanes, as well as wreckage from several downed planes. Surprisingly, most of the information matched what I've been taught about the Vietnam War in the states, but it was still interesting to see it from this side. (For instance, of course, they call it the American War.) We also visited the famed "Hanoi Hilton"-- a prison built and used by French until the Vietnamese used it for downed American pilots. Senator John McCain spent six years there. They have his flight suit on display. (We also, incidentally, had a coffee in the actual, trademarked Hanoi Hilton.)

Now we're in Hue, a more countrified city in Central Vietnam. We're trying to get to the Loas border and on to Thailand. Tourist agencies dot the blocks here, offering tourist buses. We want to do it like locals, however, saving a few dollars and learning more. We'll see what happens tomorrow.

Hanoi

For our last night in China, Bonnie and I found a great hotel in Nanning--cheap price, nice showers, friendly staff, no odd surprises, and a luxurious air. This reminded me of earlier Chinese hotel/dorm experiences.

Chinese hotel officials used to lock tenants in at night. Around 9:00 or 10:00, they would chain the doors shut and there it was. If you were in, you were stuck. If you were out, you were stuck.

In 2000, I lived in building #5 at Beijing University. Luckily, they didn't lock the front door, only the gates to the university and the gates to my building sector. So, if returned after 10:00, I just climbed a 12-foot wall and then a 10-foot wall to go to bed. Other folks weren't so lucky. I hosted a friend once who missed his curfew. I knew some foreigners who got locked into a hotel at night and raised a holy fury until they woke the whole building and got out. Bonnie knew a Japanese fellow who stayed up late drinking and then had to climb through a window to get into his building. He fell and broke a glass table, injuring his body and ruining his reputation.

Thankfully, things have changed. (Or maybe Bonnie and I are older now and go to bed before they lock us in.)

Last night, we arrived in Hanoi, Vietnam. Neither of us knows this city. We arrived by bus and the station was buzzing. We followed a tout to her hotel, which neither of us had ever done before. The place seemed legit, however, after we talked to some other foreigners. It all seemed to check out.

In Missouri, you're residence is your castle. No one enters without permission. In fact, they just passed a law that allows a person to shoot an intruder with repurcussion. If I remember correctly, this law applies to hotels also. Apparently, the rule is different in Vietnam.

Around 9:00, while I was in the bathtub, someone jiggled the lock and then started entering our room. I dashed from the tub to the door, blocked it and sounded an unhospitable warning. A young hotel clerk was on the other side. He was just bringing us the remote-control for our air-con. When he met an angry, wet, naked, cussing, white man on the other side, he shrank away in apologies.

Bonnie and I didn't know who else might visit us in the night, so we put furniture in front of the door.

All went well in the night. This morning, however, after Bonnie went downstairs for email, I started to bathe again. I heard a fumbling at the door and thought it was Bonnie. I hid behind the door for sport. When I jumped out--naked--it was an elderly cleaning lady.

Either the Vietnamese have different door etiquette or they just like to see me naked.

Besides our rough beginning, Hanoi has been a great place. Coffee abounds, as does a French sensibility. It reminder Bonnie of a mix between Mexico City and Paris-- sophisticated, cramped, a little dirty, and hectic.

We like it so far.

Down South

After 28 hours on a hard sleepin train, we arrived in Guilin. The train wasn't bad, but our bunk mates were. Jim had no problem with them, but their incessant smacking, belching, loud talking and snoring were a bit much for me. Especially since a magical grandma and other quiet females were just next door. But, really, all that's a different story for a girls- only blogspot.

Guilin is just what we wanted: a languid southern town surrounded by karst mountains. Jim and I had only seen mountains like this in picture books. We found a lovely and cheap hostel here then went straight to the bus station, thinking we'd find delays and runarounds. Not so. Just a friendly lady and loads of buses. We booked one for tomorrow morning then walked around the easy city and wished we'd stayed awhile.

Tomorrow to Nanning, closer to Vietnam. Maybe Vietnam by midnight? Maybe not.