Entries about beach

Ah, here I am again, being force fed terrible Asian pop music as the headphone jack on this computer does not work. Oh, now the guy at the desk is singing along. Do the Vietnamese think foreigners love their renditions of love songs sang by teens who are in desperate need of a bang trimming? I'll never know. I do know that this is going to be a terrible post because not only do they force every one to listen to their favorite songs, they force it at the highest level. Subwoofers in my ear. What? You want to hear an example of the teenage love songs that bring me to my knees (and not in a fit of passion either)? Okay, you asked for it.

OH MY GOD. HE IS REPEATING THE SONG. Please. Stop. Singing. Ah, the treble...the treble is so terrible. I apologize for how bad this post is going to be. I can't even hear myself think.

So where did I leave off? Oh yes, in Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as everyone but the city's officials call it. When we arrived in Saigon, we liked it. It's a nice city. The traffic is terrible with scooters and taxis and people buzzing about like worker drones in a bee hive. But it's still (relatively) clean and well laid-out. It's hot and slightly smelly, but still nice. Or so we thought.

Our first night there, we got in a cab. Our hotel receptionist had warned us before leaving, "Be very careful if you are taking a taxi. Just be VERY CAREFUL." It was a little nervewracking. She didn't care to explain what to be wary of, just to be wary. Err? So we got into the cab we thought the hotel had called. After about one kilometer, we noticed the meter was high, okay incredibly higher, and ticking higher and higher with every block. It was a rigged meter. Obviously, most people would say something like stop, we can get out here. But it was our first night in Saigon! We were lost, confused, maybe even a little hurt by this scammery. We didn't get out of the cab until the meter reached over 200,000 VND ($10). It should have been a $2 ride at the MOST. We kept asking, "That's a lot of dong. Is your meter broken?" And he kept pointing and yelling "METER! METER!" I just kept saying, "Wow, that is very expensive. Lots of dong." And then he started yelling in Vietnamese and shouting, "METER." If you've never been shouted at by someone speaking Vietnamese, let me tell you -- it is not pleasant. We should have paid the $2 and left, but hey, we are new to this scam business. So we paid the inflated fare and pouted. We had been had. Turns out, there are fake taxis that copy the logos of the reputable companies. If you're in Vietnam, watch out for the fake cabs. Only take Ma Linh and Vina Sun. And make sure the logos are not copies. Also check for the drivers' IDs and rates on the cab's dash. At that moment, it was like a giant banner was rolled out, "WELCOME TO VIETNAM SAM AND AVERY! HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAAAY." It was just a sampling of things to come.

So here's the deal: All throughout our travels, we were warned by other travellers about Vietnam. They told us about the scams, the rip-offs, the negative attitude toward travellers. Remember the French dude in Bangkok -- "They (the VN) treat you like dogs!" So we thought we were prepared for it. Nope, two months in SE Asia did not give us the knowledge to travel through Vietnam without being ripped off.

Anyway, we couldn't find the restaurant. So we negotiated with a motorbike driver, who asked me if I "had baby inside" of me, to take us to a second place. Uh? Motorbike drivers have no tact. I knew that dress made me look fat. He brought us to the wrong place, asked for 20,000 more dong to take us to the right place then wouldn't give us our change. I was lucky to have enough in small bills to pay him his stupid 30,000 VND.

After those experiences, we walked. We walked all over sweaty, humid Saigon, feeling more than a bit slighted by the transportation system there. We went to the War Remnants Museum, which was both sad and interesting. What I know of the Vietnam war I learned through American movies, a couple books and my father. So it was interesting to learn about the war through the stories of survivors, photos and artifacts. The Agent Orange exhibit was disturbing. Babies are still being born with birth defects. I had no idea the destruction of the chemicals were so recent. I nearly cried during that exhibit. They spare no gorey details in the photos, which they shouldn't. We also visited The Reunification Palace and an art museum. Both interesting.

(He is still singing.)

A big thing in Saigon's backpacker district is drinking ridiculously cheap beer (50 cents for a bottle) on the street. Yes, on the street. Foreigners pay to drink beerand sit on child-sized plastic stools in the sidewalks and streets. It's funny to see so many large Westerners nearly breaking the tiny hot pink and bright red stools beneath them. For a 1.50, I had some decent local beer and some great people watching. Best part? When the police drove up to make sure no one was sitting in the road. Of course, everyone was sitting in the road. So the husky Vietnamese shop owners began throwing the pink and red stools onto the sidewalk as the confused and slightly frightened tourists stared. I've never seen women of that size move so quickly. When the police left, everyone moved back into the streets. Too funny. I didn't get a great photo, so http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-photo/haz14/1/1261578939/more-street-drinking-it-s-the-vietnam-way.jpg/tpod.html) (< ERROR: the link title is too long!) is someone else's! Ha.

One morning in Saigon, I decided it was way too hot for sight-seeing. So I hauled Avery and I onto a local bus (ticket price: 25 cents) to the waterpark! For five bucks, we spent the afternoon going down slides, intimidating children, floating down the lazy river and whatnot. Good fun. We went down this slide with a Vietnamese guy, and I think my screams of horror/delight terrified him. Poor guy. That slide was the boooommbbb.

We went to the big market in Saigon as well. There, we were blown away by the prices. In Cambodia, vendors start at $3 for a t-shirt. We usually paid $1-2. In Vietnam, vendors start at $15 for a shirt that is only worth $2-3! It's ridiculous how much they go up. It takes about 10 minutes to negotiate them down, all the while they are trying to make you feel guilty. As one lady told Avery, "Just buy the shirt! We are tired and want to go hoooome!" :p I've just stopped buying things in Vietnam because the negotiation process is just so grueling. So everyone, you'll be getting your souvenirs from Laos!

A nice demonstration of weasel coffee in a Saigon market. Did I try it you ask?! MAIS BIEN SUR! It was okay. Kind of sweet.

After this photo was taken, we were forced to buy a coconut.

After the heat, scams and pollution (enough that my throat started to ache), we went north to Dalat in the central highlands of Vietnam. There we met up with two great guys from the Easy Riders, a motorcycle club that shows tourists around that part of Vietnam. But this is for another post, as there is so much to say. Avery will be writing that one.

After Dalat, we ended up in Nha Trang, the big tourist resort in Vietnam. It was full of Russians. So many that the restaurants print their menus in Russian! Avery got a sunburn; I got owned by a massive wave.

Then we got on a night bus to Hoi An.

Oooh the dreaded night bus. I had refused to take them in Vietnam, as I'm already terrified of the Vietnameses' driving practices during the day. I was sure I would never wake up from a night bus. NIGHT BUS STRAIGHT TO HEEELLL.

Okay, I exaggerate. We may not have departed in hell, but the bus ride was straight from the bowels of hell itself. I do not exaggerate here -- I will probably be needing chiropractic services in my old age from that ride. It was that bad. On these buses, you're forced to lie at a terribly awkward 45 degree angle on a foam pad. A human's back is not built for this. There are three rows of beds, stacked two high. There are no emergency exits; there are two doors, but one is blocked by luggage. Are you hyperventilating yet? No? I'll keep trying. So you and 29 other people have only one exit to all fight for if your bus driver: falls asleep during the 16 hour ride, goes off a cliff, runs into a tree, runs over a biker/pedestrian/chicken/cow/all of the above,etc. It's terrible. And the roads! I rode a country bus for nine years. Those roads were like gliding on ice compared to what my poor spine experienced during those 16 hours of lying in something akin to a coffin. I digress. It was terrible.

We arrived in Hoi An, slightly shaken and quite bruised but gloriously alive. Hoi An is a cute city in the middle of the Vietnam coast. It's so cute that UNESCO named it a world heritage sight! Other than get a suit made and see "the countryside," there isn't much to do. Well, after three days on a motorcycle, we were all countrysided out. So, we went shopping! I had a dress and a coat made. Avery had a suit made. He looked damn fine. Even the seamstress thought so, as she kept stroking his butt and saying, "These pants make your bum look so nice." Then the seamstress and I would high-five, and I'd be like yeaah, that's mine. Okay, not really. But she did say that, and I did smile and nod at her when she asked if I thought his "bum" looked good in those pants. She was like 8 1/2 months pregnant, so she could grab his butt all day for all I cared. Haha. Some quality work! We went to Kimmy's by the way, if you're reading this and wondering how long it will take for me to get to the point.

MEOW.

After Hoi An, I said NO MORE NIGHT BUSES AVERY. And we took the train to Hanoi. It was pretty expensive, but my claustrophobia has been so exacerbated by this trip. I don't even care if I have to pay $20 more to avoid having a panic attack.

The train is much more comfortable, unless you have noisy cabin mates...

My discussion of the train and the finer points of Vietnam are for another post. There is no heat our current location, the misty mountain of Sapa, and I can't feel my fingers anymore. Oy. This tropical weather has really made me into a cold-weather-fearing pansy.

Tomorrow, we take the night train to Hanoi then fly to Vientienne, the capital of Laos! How excited am I to go to Laos? Well, I am so excited that I called Laos Airlines today and said, "Get me out of here! Can I switch my flight date?!" And now we leave on the 15th. Caaan't wait. Why am I so excited to get to Laos? Well, you'll have to read the next post.

Ciao!

P.S. Can you believe we'll be back in less than a month?! Crazy.

P.P.S. Are you still reading? Your reward is a photo. I found the photos of stuck van in Cambodia. So good. Also, check out the views behind Avery. Ah, so pretty.

Like I mentioned in the last post, Sam and I had been really excited about spending some time in Railay. We'd read about it and watched a few YouTube videos that made it sound pretty low key and relaxed. I had envisioned a beach lined with rustic bungalows and hippies, backpackers and rock-climbers lounging around. It's our own fault for being misinformed and for coming in peak tourist season, but we were surprisingly disappointed by what we found in Railay instead. And we weren't the only ones taken by surprise, over the few days we spent there we saw plenty of backpackers running around wide-eyed, soaked in sweat and asking where the cheap bungalows could be found. (Sorry, man they're all full! I know! Bummer!)

Apparently, the whole area has become a choice destination for Europeans on holiday. And with that status comes over-development, inflated room rates and hordes of tourists with wailing children in tow. They have just as much right to enjoy those stunning beaches as anyone, but this wasn't the Railay we had been looking forward to. However, if you can manage to look past the crowds and get over the fact that you're spending half of your daily budget on accommodation, Railay really is a beautiful place with a lot to offer.

Rock Climbing

Our first night in Railay was a write-off. Both Sam and I were nursing headaches from not eating or drinking enough water during the bus trip and after a little nap we had the energy to search out some fried rice and that was about it for the night. The next day, feeling recharged and happy about having been able to move to a larger, better lit room (with windows and everything!) we were off to a much better start. I set out to find someone to teach me rock-climbing -- Railay is said to have some of the best climbing in the world, one of the major reasons I wanted to visit -- and by that afternoon I was headed to "1, 2, 3 Wall" with some laid back local guys from a shop called Real Rock.

At the wall I was introduced to my instructor, Len, who was busy belaying for one of two brothers from Pittsburgh who I was climbing with for the day. There really wasn't much instruction before I got started but I'm more of a learn-by-doing type of guy anyway so it suited me just fine. Len showed me how to tie in my harness properly and told me to have at it. I took a deep breath and scanned the rock in front of me while I chalked my hands up for the first time. This was supposed to be an easy climb and for not having done any real rock-climbing before I thought I pulled it off pretty gracefully. I found myself rushing through the first part, my adrenaline started pumping and I had a little bit of tunnel vision where all I was thinking about what getting up and getting back down as quickly as possible. It's an interesting feeling to be clinging to a rock with nothing keeping you off the ground except your own skills and a rope tied to a stranger on the ground below you. I slipped a couple of times but Len was always quick to stop my fall and shout suggestions on what my next move should be. As I became more confident in him and myself I was able to slow down, enjoy the feeling of raw physical activity and even turn around and take in the view a couple of times, which even from only 30-40 feet up was spectacular.

Our group spent the afternoon completing increasingly difficult climbs around that same rock. I was able to finish all of them but the last one. It was the longest and hardest climb of the day. I was exhausted just looking at it.

"Just go straight up!" Len offered. Soooo much easier said than done, but I gave it a go. I made it about 30-35 feet up, around 3/4 of the way to the top. At that point I was hanging on by two footholds deep enough for the tips of my shoes and a sliver of rock large enough to grip with three fingertips. From there with was a long stretch to the next decent hand hold. I gave it my best in four or five tries and then just hung there looking up at the last 10ft of the climb. My knees marked with the bruises and scrapes of an inexperienced climber and aching from neck to toe, I called it a day. Maybe on a new day I could make that last ten feet, but it definitely wasn't happening that afternoon.
I yelled to Len, "I'm dead."

Snorkeling

I would love to do some more rock climbing and there is plenty of it to be done in Railay, but we had limited time there and I was so sore the next day I didn't think it would have been worth my time to even attempt it. Instead, Sam and I had a lazy breakfast and strolled up to Diamond Cave -- a shallow limestone cave just a short walk from the beaches -- where we poked around for awhile before meeting up with a snorkeling tour that afternoon.

We hopped on a large longtail with about 15 other people and spent the rest of the day being carted to a handful of snorkeling spots around some of the smaller islands about an hour boat-ride from the mainland of Railay. The snorkeling was enjoyable everywhere we went despite poor visibility. We spotted quite a bit of wildlife including a lot of clown fish, banner fish, butterfly fish, grouper, barracuda, box fish and a bunch of other stuff I can't put a name to. There was also one moment when the schools of fish around us exploded in what I thought might be panic. They shot past us in a blur and I turned the direction they had come from hoping to see a shark. I kicked a few times in that direction and saw a large tail fin flash into my range of visibility and then disappear. I grabbed Sam, hoping to share a sighting with her since it's a goal of ours to see a shark, but whatever I saw was probably long gone by the time I looked back and we didn't have anymore close encounters .

That evening we headed to an island beach where we watched between two rock formations as the sun set on the horizon. In the waning light the sky and water were matching swirls of blues, purples and pinks. Overhead, a steady stream of massive fruit bats dotted the sky between the cliffs and the mainland. It was a surreal moment neither Sam or I could capture properly on film and could only stand and watch in awe. Pictures just can't do a scene like that justice.

Here are a couple anyway:

We ate a quick meal of spicy green curry on the beach and boarded the boat for our last stop. We approached a rock cliff that looked a lot like the others we'd coasted past throughout the day, but as the boat sliced nearer to the formation our wake began to roll out in shimmering blues and greens as it peeled away from the boat. The water there was full of a bioluminescent algae that lights up when the water is disturbed. When everyone was prepped and in the water, the boatman killed the lone light on the longtail and we were left in the shadow of the cliff. Here, shielded from the moonlight, the algae danced brilliantly with each kick or swing of an arm. We were suspended there in what our guide described as "stars above and stars below". I couldn't have said it better myself. We treaded water for about ten minutes there. Each of us thrashing around in the water, shrouded in our individual clouds of neon specks and enjoying the natural light show before climbing into the boat for the chilly ride back to shore.

Sam and I both enjoy they outdoors and the more nature-y things in SEA never seem to disappoint. In this case, Railay may not have been the laid-back retreat we had imagined, but it is undeniably beautiful. A couple of days spent clinging to a rock and snorkeling out among the many islands and cliffs away from the crowds was enough for Railay to redeem itself and leave us with a favorable opinion.

Ah, it's been too long! I promise to get better at writing regularly. I had forgotten how much I enjoy reading people's reactions to my writings. It's fun to get some feedback rather than spewing into journal pages. So thanks for the comments. I appreciate it.

So where to start? We've done so much since I last wrote in Koh Tao. Can you bare with me through a longer post? I know blogs are supposed to be quick and to the point because readers have such short attention spans. But, really...would you rather be entering data into spreadsheets or reading my long travel rants?

I struggle with balancing the lyrical prose I love so much with the straight itinerary that people want to hear. I'm not sure what's a happy medium. More guts, less flower? More description? I'll have to test this.

Empty Moon

We arrived on Koh Phangan, the site of the (in)famous Full Moon Party, on January 11 -- three days after the FMP. We weren't too disappointed by this. We actually planned it that way. Avery and I are feeling like curmudgeons these days. :p But we went to Haad Rin beach, site of the FMP, anyway.

The beach is stunning. Meters of beautiful, white sand. The waves were moving nicely that day, so Avery and I did some body surfing. Good times. I think I'm beginning to tolerate the taste of saltwater. Just barely.

After the beach, we ate some food, watched a cam-copy of The Hangover 2 at the bar and just hang out. Really laid back. It was pretty dead in the town as the FMP partiers had left just days before.

We also had our first "bucket" there. The party buckets of Thailand are famous for their potency and often mysterious contents. Lots of stories of people "not drinking that much, I swear" then waking up in some strange place without their shoes or wallets. We bought ours from nice Thai ladies down the street from the beach. They have the buckets ready with a variety of ingredients. Someone can easily get a giant Johnnie Walker mixer for less than $15. Awesome. But we chose the Sangsom, mixed with Coke and Thai Red Bull. According to a slightly intoxicated bartender at Baan Thai, the Red Bull here is made by big pharma and is rumored to have amphetamines. Huh. Avery fell asleep after drinking a full bottle of the stuff though. Bad batch or are Americans immune to insane amounts of caffeine and whatnot?

Bad Times in Baan Thai

Then we headed NW to Baan Thai. Our (locally produced) guide book said BT had miles of uninterrupted white sandy beach. Breathtaking. Coconut plantations. You'll love it.

Actually, BT is the only place on KPN with lady (go-go) bars and has the dirtiest water of the island...but with spectacular views of Koh Samui!

The taxi from Haad Rin took us to a place called Pink's. We weren't really feeling the place though as we were the only ones in the restaurant area who did not smell of patchouli or have dreads. :p So we walked...in the head and humidity. For way too long. It was terrible. There were no sidewalks. With our packs on, we looked like angry, sweaty, lost turtles trying to avoid the scooters and Jeeps. It was embarrassing.

Finally, we got to a place called Phangan Beach Resort. It was a little overpriced (600 Baht), but it had a pool! And a private beach! AND HAMMOCKS! So we were sold. Well, they say it for a reason, looks can be deceiving.

So yeah, we check in. And it starts to sprinkle. Boo. But we were determined, but mostly bored. We decided to walk to Thong Sala, just "down the road" as Avery and I say way too often for it to be true. We walk past the notorious lady bars, which aren't that notorious really after one's been to Soi Cowboy in Bangkok. We walked past the fabled "Food Factory." We consulted our map at least 22 times. And then, just as we were about to reach the night market filled with all kinds of cheap goodies, the rain lets us have it. Just freaking pours all tropical typhoon style on us. So I wrote this:

On our way to the Saturday night market in Thong Sala, the tropical rain started. First, it was a sprinkle. And then all of the Thais pulled out their umbrellas. The street vendors began to cover their stalls. Then it poured. Heavy and fast, unlike rain I've ever seen before. This has been my first experience with getting caught in the tropical style rain. The kind characterized by the fat, wet drops that quickly soak through every layer of clothing, kissing your skin with a surprisingly warm wetness. It doesn't take long before one's whole body is dripping.

Now Avery and I sit under the tin shelter of some closed outdoor market. That stench I remember from Bangkok is drifting up from the concrete. Smells of urine mixed with the scents of the street vendors' wares and a hint of the tropical rain's sweetness. "I don't know if this is going to quit," Avery says.

Some wet, unhappy tourists walk by, cloaked in plastic ponchos. Despite the downpour, life goes on. Thais on scooters, squinting through the rain still ride the streets. Street vendors pull down plastic sheets and continue to sell their items: raw slabs of meat, noodles, sandwiches. Life goes on.

Except for the two lonely Americans, who are afraid of the tropical storms. We're still sitting on the curb, afraid to leave the relative safety and comfort provided by this overhang.

How long will we wait? There's no sign of it letting up.

• * Aw, thanks for letting me wax poetic there. I just finished Steinbeck's East of Eden, and the way he describes places BLOWS me away. Was hoping to channel some of that in the rain.

We eventually bought some very touristy plastic ponchos from the grocery store across the street from our hideout, got overcharged by a taxi and made it to our bungalow.

Then Avery and I were faced with a new situation: No TV, no Internet, it's raining...What the hell do we do now? Well, Boyscout Avery fashioned two lovely cups out water bottles (cut off the tops). And we filled those makeshift cups with Sangsom and Coke. Woo! No ice. But it was still a party. Then we made shadow puppets. Apparently we revert to childhood games when screens aren't around. Who knew? We also took some incriminating pictures of each other. Avery, please don't put that weird lip picture of me on the Internet. Much obliged. But your photos are free domain. Snooze you lose!

Next day, we're all like "guidebook lied!" And the next town is a 40 minute walk away! So what do we do? Rent a scooter of course! It really is the best way to get around Koh Phangan. Just be sure to take a picture of any scratches, dents, whatever before you rent it. Otherwise, you might get charged when you return it. Even if you didn't do it. And avoid riding in places like the "Hill of Tears" in Haad Rin. I'm guessing there's a few stories behind that nickname.

I let Avery do all the driving because I didn't want him to feel emasculated. He also didn't want to me to drive. Weird, right? I'm guessing this might have something to do with the time I made him go on the Zipper ride at the MN State Fair...ok, this is a funny story. SEGUE

So Avery is not an amusement park/ride kind of guy. And I am. To the core. It's ridiculous. So we're at the MN State Fair, and I'm like, "Dude, come on. It's the Zipper. It's awesome." He won't budge. Peer pressure always wins in the end though, so away we go.

Standing in line: "So what does thing do anyway?" Avery asks.
"You've never watched it before?"
"No."
"Oh." And at this point, I'm thinking oh shit. He is going to kill me.

So the carnie locks us in the cage, and Avery is not talking to me. Won't look at me -- just staring silently ahead. "Okay, now when we get moving, we have to rock it hard forward to get it to spin."

Avery doesn't want to spin it. And I'm thinking, well, it's going to spin with or without me rocking it, hun. But I just nod. Smile. Nod. So we start going, and it's doing it's Zipper thing. Then we get to the top. It's about to enter its first 360 turn. I lean in. "Okay, we gotta lean into it Avery! We have to rock it!"

And I'm putting all 110 pounds of me into this cage when Avery cries out, "Don't rock it Sam! Don't rock it."

And then I feel so guilty. Incredibly guilty. Like guiltier than kicking a blind puppy guilty. Because Avery looks like he is about to die. Or maybe he already did, because he hasn't moved since the ride started. So you know how the Zipper is, it's going to turn anyway. That's what it does. It zips. So we fly forward; my head is hitting the top; my knuckles are white and hands clenched around the front. We flip. Then I feel that evasive high that only comes around so often. The kind of high that people get when they're wondering if this is their last moment, but they're having so much damn fun that it doesn't matter. And I laugh. I laugh this terrible blood curdling, Wicked Witch of the West mixed with Alvin and the Chipmunks laugh, as the cage is spinning wildly in circles. As I'm feeling this adrenaline rush, I look over at Avery, who lets out a faintly audible "Hahaha." Then closes his eyes.

So we survive. And after I've bought him some fries, and he's finally talking to me again, I ask, "You couldn't have hated it that much. I saw you laughing."
To which he replies, "I was laughing at you." And then he adds that I pretty much freaked him out. When I look back at it, that was not the laugh of a man having a good time. It was the "Oh God, I'm dating a monster...what have I done?" laugh.

SOOOO...I think when Avery thought of me driving the scooter, he then imagined me cackling as we swerved down some Haad Rin hill, nearly missing a water buffalo and crashing into a palm tree.

And I digress.

I was going to add some more, but I think this blog post is long enough. And the mosquitoes are out. I'll add the other stories in later...

Sam