Next Stop, Laos?

Our sleeper bus to Dien Bien Phu, just under 40 km from the border of Laos, turned out to be one of the best sleeping experiences either of us has had while being transported somewhere. The double seats were long enough for my 6'1" frame to fully stretch out and so it was that with bleary but rested eyes we found ourselves pulling into DBP just before dawn. The city itself doesn't have a whole lot going on. For foreigners, it is mostly either a stopover point as the last city before the border crossing or a history buff bookmark as the site of the final battle with the French in the first Indochina war. After checking into a guesthouse for the evening, we spent the day exploring the quiet streets and searching for two things: food, and a place to exchange some Vietnamese Dong into Laos Kip.

Search number one was the money. You would think that banks at a border town listing exchange services complete with rates would exchange the local currency for the neighboring one. And you would be wrong. Not one but six different banks denied us the service ("We only exchange money into Dong") and three of them suggested we try the gold shop at the main roundabout intersection. "Sure," he said, in whatever mixed language understanding we could conjure, "hold on". We waited a bit while he shuffled through piles and stacks (literally) of money, taking in the fact that his gold jewelry shop was, in the back, outfitted with a complete dentist office setup and some sort of office. One stop shopping? He returned saying no can do and then showed us why: in his wallet a stack of US dollars, none of which would work to break our change as all he had was hundred dollar bills. So it goes.

Search number two, to soothe our disheartened souls, was to find some lunch. Fresh from the street food extravaganza in Hanoi, we headed for the market; a tidier, cleaner, and more open air affair than most, but still complete with piles of eggs in sawdust on a tarp, little mountains of chilies and limes and garlic, buckets of eels and other swimming critters, and, of course, food vendors. We spent maybe fifteen seconds looking at the sign for Pho Ga/Bo/Other (Vietnamese noodle soup with Chicken/Beef/etc.) before a youngish (maybe 25...maybe 35...?) woman with a huge smile came running (actually running) over to usher us to her booth. You have to just follow your gut in these situations sometimes and after trying to question whether it was possible to get Pho Vegetable/tofu with mixed results we decided to just go for it. WIN.

What we got not only ended up being one of, if not THE best bowls of Pho, with fresh tofu from the market and a language free conversation of smiles and laughter throughout, but also a lesson in Vietnamese. We're not sure if the dialect is really as different as they made it seem or if we're really just that bad at getting the nuances of speaking with tonal up and down languages, but they got a kick out of trying to teach us and we (mostly) figured out how to order the soup we were after. Five hours later, we were back for another round and before we could pay we saw our new friend run off, hop on her motorbike waving and smiling, and then return some ten minutes later with her three year old daughter in tow. This time it was our turn to try to coax some words out, as mother prodded shy (and chocolate lollipop preoccupied) daughter to say hello and try out her few English words.

What I haven't mentioned yet is Laos. In the few weeks leading up to our arrival there we'd been doing research on a route, learning key language phrases, and trying to get an actual idea of whether or not we could obtain visas at the border. Search the internet and you'll find enough yes and no reports about this particular border crossing to make it thoroughly impossible to feel sure. Could we have gotten it at the Laos embassy in Hanoi? Yup. Did we? Nope. Mark it up to our being to excited by what was in front of our noses, but we just didn't do it. To add to that, in pushing our time in Hanoi and Vietnam back, we were cutting into the time we had allotted for Laos. I wrote before about maintaining a flexible schedule but when it comes to major plane ticket purchases, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet - something we did, capping our time in Southeast Asia with a flight out of Bangkok on January 26. Bus tickets in hand, we went to bed ready to board the 5am minibus across the border (or at least to it, were we to find no visas available). At 4:15 the next morning, our alarm called us back from sleep and right into an executive meeting where we chose to follow our guts once more.

No Laos.

We were both looking forward to exploring this little country that we've heard nothing (truly, nothing) bad about so on the one hand it was kind of a bummer to let go of the idea that it would be a part of this particular trip. On the other hand - it just didn't seem right. It felt too short, it felt too rushed, it felt like we were cutting off Vietnam despite loving it...so we let it go, reminding ourselves, again, that A) there was never a chance this one trip was going to take us everywhere we want to go B) we can always come back and C) our trip means our rules and within that, there is no right or wrong. There is no "seeing the wrong thing" or "missing out", even when only judged by our own standards. There is only doing what we can and want to do and enjoying whatever that ends up being - something that has, repeatedly, been a harder to grasp reality than idea.

New bus tickets acquired, we got to spend a second day in DBP, making our way up the 359 steps to Victory Monument (where we were serenaded by two competing karaoke singers), enjoy another delicious bowl of pho and arrange ourselves a cheap last minute flight from Hanoi back to Bangkok the day our Vietnam visa expired.

Boarding another pre-dawn minibus in the freezing cold bound for Son La - a town known for its tea industry - the next morning, we were accompanied by a couple ladies in traditional outfits who gave up their breakfast out the window while sacks of rice came and went from the center aisle. Our stopover here served as part of our slow crawl back towards Hanoi, less a retreat and more a taste of what a future return trip (in warmer weather, or at least with our warmer clothes) might look like: a visit to the mountains of Sapa, further exploration of the fields that produced the oolong and green teas we were lucky enough to sample, and some of the local dairy pastures of Moc Chau. A couple extra days in Hanoi finished off what was left of our Vietnam Visas, afforded us a couple more tastes of the streets, and left our brains feeling more in sync with the locations and surroundings of our bodies - at ease with our decisions and excited for the trip when Laos, at last, pulls us across its border.

Food Porn: Hanoi

...as Eli said. The food! What graze-friendly gloriousness Hanoi invited us into. Strolling around, following our noses - and sometimes just following the basket that dangled off the shoulder of a speedy woman ahead of us in the crowd. We accepted the invitation, the challenge, with a good dose of excitement, and (if only at first) empty bellies. Having spent a few weeks in Vietnam before hitting the streets of Hanoi definitely helped us, both linguistically and digestively. Certain dishes were not without their surprises or mystery ingredients, but we were lucky to have mostly delicious, even if not the most attractive, experiences. We would first like to extend a big thank you to stickyrice.typepad.com. This exhaustively thorough blog introduced us to the complex Hanoi street food scene, inspired our boldly attempting mysterious eats, diminished the trepidation that often accompanies ordering and diligently identified things via both descriptions and locations of all kinds of finds. As for what really stood out, or quickly became a near-daily necessity, we made a selection of savory vs. sweet below - complete with notes about flavor, ingredients, surroundings, adventures or a combination thereof. Since neither of us eat too much meat, the savory side is likely an example of the simpler (yet still oh-so-satisfying) fare available. No fried tarantulas this time, just straightforward goodness enjoyed on minuscule plastic stool beside a swarm of motos and pedestrians.

SAVORY

Chao: A rice based soup, generally cooked into a downright gruel minus all of the bad notions that word conjures up. In traditional Chinese medicine, and culture, it is known as a congee and in Thailand it is johk. Served up from very early in the morning through early afternoon, it is topped with fried shallots, some green onion snippings (always cutting with scissors, these ladies are so reasonable and crafty), a dose of soft cruton, powdered pepper and chili, and whatever base meat or veg you choose. Most places specialize in one or two, such as trai (finely chopped oyster), ga (chicken) or more rarely rau (chopped vegetables). Our first chao trai feast treated us to a surprise, the flavor was so mild and lovely that we thought it was merely herbs and rice. We also met a lovely young woman from the Boston area who is working in the central highlands for a few more months, so good conversation accompanied our simple bowls. Eli was so hooked on this version that he kept an eye out for the same woman on each walk outside.

Pho: Best enjoyed for breakfast, this rice noodle soup was an old favorite in Boston, but was elevated to near transcendental experiences with the right combination of shredded vegetables, tofu, hearty lime slices, chopped herbs and fresh chili flakes. Our Hanoi go to was a small place called Coffee12 (we never figured out if that was the address or amount of hours open or what) that had lots of locals, sweet women working there and a clean, clean broth. A cleansing ritual and the right amount of warming for the brisk mornings.

Banh Gio Nong: We originally tried this because I recognized it from a stickyrice post. A sticky rice square patty is lightly stuffed with mung (yellow) bean paste and a small bit of pork belly. It is found crisping on a large metal platter over a wood burning fire, or perhaps a clay stove housed in a basket, and served in a banana leaf with a dash of fish sauce and/or hot sauce (get both!). Our first one was ordered from a small corner set-up; we walked down the street testing, then savoring it, and promptly did a u-turn to get a second one. We spent the rest of our time in Hanoi casually seeking a better one, but it remains the champion.

Banh Trung Cut: These almost raw looking steamed buns with filling are common and dirt cheap - a stellar snack, or meal, if you aren't wheat-free (ugh!). If you feel adventurous with the stuffings (we were only mildly so), you can order them off the back of bicycles - just listen for some random seeming hooting message and look for e bike with the big aluminum bucket in the back, steam billowing behind. Our go to, the Trung Cut comes with mushrooms, herbs, a hard-boiled quail egg and minimal amount of pork inside.

Bun Dau Mam Tom: A great example of trusting your own eyes (is that...it looks like...perfectly fluffy, fried tofu?), as well as able to eat fresh leafy herbs on the street and not contract something horrible, much to the chagrin of so many travel warnings. A simple plate of fried tofu, cool vermicelli, fresh herbs (purple/Thai basil, mint, shiso and something mildly sweet) and a shrimp paste dipping sauce. The latter part is an acquired earthy taste, and the strength depends on the maker, but it is necessary to complete the flavor walk that your mouth takes. A little extra mint, less sauce or extra sauce on the tofu followed with a shooter of basil - the dish shifts and melds, and the old woman who served it to you is endlessly entertained. Plus, it is nice to have something other than a one pot, or one hand, dish.

SWEET

Banh Troi Tau: The pairing of all that is holy and wonderful, according to me. A laughably hideous bowl of utter perfection. Hot ginger infused syrup (not super sweet and the stronger ginger the better) with two rice flour dumplings suspended in it. At two averagely good shops there was always one with a black sesame paste filling and one with mung bean paste. Decent - and I will always choose the former as the last to be eaten. However, one magical place exists - open only after 3:30pm, a vacant door and stoop before, specializing in this and two other bowls of dessert only. It materializes with an air of mystery and utility, and locals literally stake the place out, either waiting upon every stool or trolling on motos, necks craned. This establishment serves one dumpling full of shredded coconut and one with the black sesame paste. Also, after tasting their ginger broth, the rest just tasted like sugar syrup. OMG. I spied a sad frozen version of this in a Bangkok store, but dare not spoil the taste memory. Should anyone know of a good place for this stateside, please-oh-please do tell.

Chuoi Nep Nuong: What a concoction! Whoever invented this one gets two gold stars and number two on the list of "Best Desserts of WonderWander's Hanoi" - a niche list if ever there was one, but don't think that means it's meaningless. Take one banana (the small, super flavorful kind, if possible), wrap in sticky rice and grill. Cut into a cup (with scissors, natch), drench in a warm tapioca/sweet coconut milk mixture, and sprinkle a few crushed peanuts to garnish. Delicious and practically even good for you, what with all that banana and all. Probably just as awesome with some cinnamon on top and a little vanilla ice cream underneath.

Che Con Ong: Definitely not a favorite, but it gets a mention because it could likely save your life. Were you to be stranded somewhere in heavy snows, with shelter but no food...this could last for a week or two, keeping you sustained until help arrived. A sticky rice patty drowned with ginger infused browned sugar syrup (not quite caramel flavor, but a good substitute word), served cooled and covered in a few crushed peanuts. We consider it the Vietnamese GORP, but not as addictive.

Chi Ma Phu: A practical dessert, should you be interested in the healing qualities if black sesame and something not super dessert-like, as we westerners know it. It is a mildly sweetened ground black sesame soup, served in small doses - and particularly good at the aforementioned magic hole-in-the-wall. What we liked most was the simplicity, almost an after dinner tonic dessert.

Banh Da Ke: A semi-sweet snack off the back of a bicycle - yes, please. One big, round, crispy rice cracker is covered in a smear of mung bean paste and sprinkled with what we think was crumbled, cooked egg yolk (but we really aren't sure) and sugar. It is important to use what Vietnamese you have to communicate only a little shake of sugar - otherwise, you will feel your enamel eroding with every bite. When light on the sugar, however, this is a great light snack that is not too savory and not super sweet. Almost a mild yellow bean hummus of sorts, surrounded by lightweight crunch and held within a square of yesterday's news.

You may realize by now (really, how could you not?) that our food experiences are integral to our place-making, be it that we are somewhere for only several days or a few months. Thankfully, though it might sometimes seem otherwise, our documentary process isn't a straight shot from the table or street to the digital realm. The tried and true, and far less obtrusive, in-between is a small and scribbled notebook with various lists of dishes, drinks or ingredients to hold on to. It is divided by country and contains the proper terms, ingredients, or sometimes simply the location of where we tried a specific bite. Beyond being helpful for our writing here, we have found that it has become a trigger unto itself - as we review certain details, or sometimes flip back to the start of the trip, new things emerge. Effectively, we are retracing our steps, solidifying the experience as memory - or redrafting it more thoroughly. What we look forward to most is doing this again, creating new recipes inspired by these notes perhaps - and thus, new smell/taste/life memories to go along with them.

Hurray For Hanoi!

For the most part, this adventure has been pretty well served by the idea of flexibility. Only a couple times have we been misled and, without necessarily regretting anything, wished to have a couple more days here or a couple less days there. Cat Ba Island, with its laid back quiet beauty, had us wondering if going for any more than a couple days to the melee we'd heard Hanoi to be would end up just more overwhelming, hectic and challenging than our kayak relaxed brains could handle. Wrong!

Well...sort of wrong. Hanoi IS a melee. It is a heaving mass of people and goods, motos and cars, foreigners, locals and everything in between all moving in every and any direction at once. But inside all of this beautiful madness, we arrived on Dec. 28th to find a city that nestles itself right in the crack between some of the other wonderful places we've been lucky enough to explore in Southeast Asia. It's the grit (metaphorically and literally) and anything goes opportunity of Kathmandu but with a little more of the development - smooth roads, good ice cream, etc. - of, say, Bangkok or Chiang Mai. By the end of day one we were aleady re-evaluating our thoughts of leaving before New Year's Eve.

(Before I get going too much, I have to preface with the fact that everything we did in this city was surrounded on either side by food. Amazing, exciting, exhilarating food adventures [with nary a large insect in sight!]. I'm not even going to start about it here, though, as anything less than a full post dedicated exclusively would miss the mark entirely. Stay tuned.)

After being whisked off to a hotel on the back of a motorbike, we spent the remaining days of the year wandering the supremely walkable Old Quarter. From as far north as Westlake to as far south as the French Quarter, several markets, endless back streets and side alleys and more museums than we've been to since Europe (three) filled in the times between sleeping and eating. Two of the museums - something that, I think many people would agree, is a little easy to burn out on - ended up being surprisingly worthwhile.

First stop was the Vietnam Fine Arts Museum - a collection of pieces that other art museums around the world will no longer borrow from due to the fact that the pieces within aren't verifiably original. Strange. Reason being is that years of corruption in the state run museum meant originals were sold off without much in the way of record-keeping, copies (though quite good ones) taking their place. It's strangely fitting to wander slack jawed in awe at some of the beautiful woodcut prints and silk paintings while questioning the authenticity and, getting a little meta, questioning what that even means in the context of art. For the admission price of just under one US dollar each, it was easily the best art museum to cost ratio I've ever experienced, save for the free nights at the MFA in Boston.

Next up was the Vietnamese Women's Museum; a truly beautiful collection displayed with the elegance and modern touches of something you might expect in Manhattan. Covering everything from women's domestic roles to wartime roles to some of the insanely intricate and fantastic fabrics of the minority tribes, it was another bargain at about USD $1.50.

As the first couple days whizzed by we realized we were subconsciously extending our stay further and further. By the 30th we knew we wouldn't be on a bus towards the Laos border until, unfortunately, Casey's birthday (January 4) so we decided to utilize the evening to celebrate a little early - avoiding the NYE crowds and prices in the process. Living on a pretty tight budget these past months has made the few meal splurges we've taken seem even more exciting and special and this one proved no different, despite the best efforts of a waitress who refused us the happy hour benefits and a group of six at the table over from us who thought watching youtube videos featuring lots of explosions and gunfire would be a fun way to spend the evening. We'll pretend they were fireworks in celebration of Casey's birthday and instead focus on the fact that, while it was fairly low-key, the food was delicious and the birthday sentiment was there. Even the cold weather checked in, catching us a bit off-guard as we had left our warmest layers in Bangkok, not really taking into consideration how much further north Hanoi is.

A few days later we went out for a birthday coffee at Cong Cafe - one of our better finds in the city - complete with gift unwrapping to make it seem like a real birthday before heading back to the hotel for our departure from this magnificent city. Two motos took us on the 20 minute drive through the most ridiculous and up close traffic I've ever been a part of to catch our overnight sleeper bus to Dien Bien Phu - the last stop town ten or so hours west of Hanoi on the way to the border. It's pretty hard to know which given place might strike one's fancy. I don't need to harp on the expectations idea again, but I can speak for us both when I say I couldn't be happier that we had the flexibility, this time, to stretch our time in Hanoi a little further. Pushing our schedule back a bit was all worth it for the smiles we received, the sights and smells we took in, and the food...oh, the food...

We Spied ...

After many roadside moments of awe shared with one another, we have compiled an unfinished list of Things We Have Seen on Motos (or Bicycles) for your enjoyment and imagination:

• impossible amounts of flowers, both fake and real
• a family of six, or three-four-five and any amount of babies squashed in between
• ten twenty-thirty foot metal poles • seventeen cases of beer
• four giant bags of rice, perhaps fifty pounders
• four large bags and two five-gallon buckets of sea-harvest (clams, mussels, shrimps)
• a four foot by eight foot painting, framed - with other smaller frames on opposite side, for balance
• three large pigs, slaughtered
• a goat, live
• baskets of chickens, live
• cardboard pallets of eggs, thirty-count, stacked four feet high
• a still-burning grill hosting sausages
• a grill in an attached sidecar with a small girl standing up still cooking at it - also sausages
• gravity defying stacks of: boxes, plastic bottles, baskets, balloons, new years decorations, people, ice blocks, mystery bags, or some combination thereof
• brooms, so many handmade brooms
• bras, underwear, socks - in massive stacks, swinging in the breeze, for sale of course
• one driver, alone, nothing else, strangely

A Very Cat Ba Christmas

The xe om ride to the Hue train station marked the beginning of a continuous twenty hour period of travel, in which we utilized six different modes of transportation. It's true - the overnight extravaganza from Hue to Cat Ba city took us by: moto --> 12 hour train --> taxi --> bus --> minibus --> speedboat --> minibus

We would have felt more like James Bond had we not endured half hour intervals of awaiting the train or bus here and there. Or perhaps if some paragliding or jumping off of a helicopter was involved. Alas, we made it to Cat Ba on Christmas eve, snagged simple accommodations with a fantastic view of the harbor and took in the overall quietness of the island. There is something about Cat Ba city, a friend recently mentioned, that feels like a small Florida beach town. It happens to be pock-marked by women selling strings of "pearls" and tiny shells shamed into the likeness of owls or similar oddities. There is the inevitable food mark up, and a small but pervasively growing skyline of bright, skinny and awkwardly tall guesthouses. However, there is also - everywhere outside the town itself - the beauty of the simple island and surrounding bays. While we were there, it seemed that half of the businesses were closed up for the chilly season and we couldn't have been happier with this. Happy low-key holidays to us.

For Christmas day itself, we decided to rent a moto and zip around the island, exploring, stopping for prettiness and enjoying the practically vehicle-free roads (a real gem of an oddity in Southeast Asia). We did exactly this, but it was intervals of zip inside of relaxing cruising, as the island itself is quite small and we would have been all done by noon had we zipped entirely. There are just a few roads that lead over to one port, past some caves and the national park, or along the coast. We made it to the north side of the island and parked the bike just in time to watch a young man's moto tip over under the weight of that mornings sea harvest. Thanks to Eli, he got it balanced again and was able to take off without anything collapsing. Since we didn't spy him on the road back, we assume all went reasonably well. The dock where that mini-drama unfolded was the point of a fairly picturesque and standard view of the magical bay from shore. Small basket boats with lacquered bottoms were rowed by little women in big hats, large boats lazily made their way somewhere, and the undulating hills of the islands in the distance faded gradually to a misty grey. Everything from the barnacles on the boat ramp to the silence was enthralling for more than a few moments.

On the ride home later in the day, we stopped at a stalactite cave where a ten year old boy was our guide, armed with two clunky torches and no fear of the dark. Pitch black, warm and filled with bats it was, well, a cave. Yet, still fun to romp around with a sweet little friend for ten minutes - and a real roadside attraction steal a little more than $2 for the two of us.

The views from every angle and shore are basically full of local fishermen (or fisherwomen, hosting small children in their boats), folks combing for crabs, oysters or mussels in the low-tides and various goodies drying out in the late afternoon sun. All accompanied by incredible quiet.

The next day was the real adventure treat we gave ourselves for the holiday. An all day excursion into Lan Ha bay, the morning and afternoon full of sea kayaking and lunch on the boat. Others in the group did the same or spent the day rock climbing, as this is the main place for that in Vietnam - in better weather you can even deep solo, which is to climb up a cliff and jump into the sea! Neither of us has ever sea kayaked, though it was fairly similar to a lake, as the bay itself is incredibly calm aside from the ripples created by the larger tour boats or liners sweeping by from time to time. We were set on exploring a cave, but were only able to find some coves. Not a problem, since the coves were possibly more interesting - the ecosystem inside was lush, host to tropical birds and protected from the lives and happenings outside the arches. Amazingly, there are many small floating houses and fishing set-ups throughout most of the bay and along the edge of the islands. Guard dogs, surprisingly, abound on these floating villages and hearing barking while floating mid-sea with nothing but water and sheer cliffs rising above you is mildly surreal. Equally so is the fact that these folks, mainly men, live and work out here for weeks or months at a time, as we gathered from our Vietnamese guide. To have the open space around you be a deep void of water must be a strange mix of freedom and half-imprisonment. At least, that is how I felt viewing it all.

Some chilly beach trips, relaxed town market excursions and a hotpot experience rounded our island adventuring out. As per the recommendation of the organization we went kayaking with, we got our hotpot on at Mr. Zoom's, an unassuming place under some tarps in a row of Com-Pho-Thit Cho (rice-pho-dog meat, no kidding) restaurants on a back street in town. A good sign of freshness is when your shrimp leaps off the table behind you and is found later under foot - which is exactly what happened to Eli. Luckily, a kind woman gave us a brief lesson on appropriate hot pot orderliness and behavior, or else we would have been a hot mess. (sorry, I couldn't resist)

Though we were tempted to stay a few more days and enjoy more of the pace, the ebb and flow, and quiet, we departed towards Hanoi a few days before the new year in hopes of wrangling a sense of the city prior to any wild celebrations. The same transportation hustle, minus the train, ferried us towards the capital with relative seamlessness. The complexities of reaching and leaving Cat Ba only add to its being a special place to spend some time, a reward at the end of the game and a token to keep close when things seem all too accessible.