Vietnam 16: Tokyo

A year ago, in the planning stages, this absolutely sounded like a good idea. Staring down the barrel of another exhausted day, I regret my decision. But as we've established, I'm going to make the more interesting choice, so we're sending it. Besides, we're immune to abuse by now: take one of every pill and hold on for dear life.

When you fill out the immigration form they ask you where you're staying. I've never written a flight number on that line before, but the border agents didn't care, so neither did I. Finally through customs we met up with one of Lou's friends and made our way out to a car waiting in the frigid parking garage. And with that, I moved Japan from my "airports only" list to "actual countries visited."

Mt Fuji looked majestic in the distance, I constantly thought we were pulling into oncoming traffic, and the girls were ecstatic in the back seat. (Are we still doing phrasing?). Traffic here is very unlike Vietnam - almost no scooters, and everyone follows the rules of the road like a polite version of the states.  We cut across the city to Yokohama - the district, not the tire company (which would have been way cooler). We parked outside some historic warehouses (brick, 200years old, waterfront), to visit the captured North Korean spy ship!  Just kidding, we totally ignored the spy ship docked outside and spent an hour doing instagram photoshoots.  The driver and I chatted in basic English, equally inoculated to this sort of thing.

Our next stop was a train station, where suddenly another Vietnamese expat jumped in the car! Apparently another member of the friend-group, and the fiancé of the driver. Now complete in our quartet, we headed over to Chinatown for.... more instagram! You'd think it'd only be slightly worse (N+1), but I learned you need to cover every combination (2^N-1).  Luckily, I've accepted my role as luggage, and spent my time trying to distil my thoughts on the issue, finally arriving on:  "Instagram has done more damage to the Asian race than Hiroshima" 

Bold take, but I stand by it. We hit up a Chinatown and a temple, where we set some prayers on fire in a ceremonial brazier, and did instagram until we got yelled at. Then we left for more instagram dumplings (Quite good. They always were the best part of dim sum).

As is traditional, we followed foot with more food, and headed to a famous Japanese noodle chain, which provided  the starkest contrast to Vietnam. In Vietnam you eat in a garage or on the sidewalk, yelling your order to the cook, watching the streetlife, and occasionally waving off homeless people trying to sell you lottery tickets. In Japan, you pay for a ticket from a vending machine, head to the chair indicated by a light-up board, and then circle your options (spice level, onions, beef, firm or tender noodles) on a slip of paper.  The bar has dividers between the seats, sealing you into a cubby. There's a button to page your server, and he? she? will pull up a little curtain at the back, letting them read  your slip and deliver food, without you ever having to see their face.  In fact, if you have a normal request (have to step out to the restroom, need more noodles, want a quieter seat) there are a handful of tokens you can pass over so you never have to talk to him. It's either an autists dream or the reason Japan's birth rate is rock bottom. Maybe both. Regardless, it's fascinating - and that alone was worth another day of sleep deprived full send.

After lunch (we folded the cubby walls back so we could at least talk among our section of the bar), we took a cute 1/2km cable-car to an island on the park, where we obviously took more instagram photos. And just like that, it was time to depart to the airport. We laughed, we cried, we said our goodbyes, and our Japanese adventure was over. Another hour back through security, some final blogging at the gate, and they're starting to call boarding groups.

This is traditionally the time where I reflect on the trip as a whole. In a word: Exhausting. Physically, mentally, emotionally.... in both positive and negative ways.  Vietnam is beautiful and fascinating, and I wrote in China I wished I could see actual life in the countries I visited, and in that aspect was this was a perfect success. We visited actual homes, lived in actual apartments, ate and drank with the locals, because we were the locals.

Additionally, every so often I need to push boundaries and color outside the lines to stay sane. Sometimes it's climbing high-tension lines, sometimes it's giving a narcissistic insomniac total control of your life. Another perfect success on that front.

And the final question: Are Lou and I still friends? Not sure yet. I'm putting off those arguments until we catch up on sleep.*

*Update: Definitely not friends anymore.  We finally spoke a week later to figure out the finances -  which immediately devolved into a proxy war. I tried to find a compromise between "Brice pays for himself" and "Brice pays for himself and grandpa", while Lou delayed until 3am before going with "you're an unmarriageable miser stop hitting on my friends."  And then forwarded said opinion to mutual groupchats until I woke up.   The only clear fact is neither of us want to let this happen again.   

Vietnam 15 - Recovery

Somehow I woke without a hangover.... with the exception of a very tenuous stomach. Breakfast was rice porridge and fish, and I slowly forced down the porridge. I couldn't steel myself to eat the floppy guy staring up at me.

After that, I packed, showered, and.... killed time while being ignored. I laid on my futon and read an entire book, which luckily lasted me until dinner time. My stomach was mostly recovered and we had homecooked cuttlefish (Vietnam knows how to cook cephalopods - they've always been far closer to edible than rubbery) which got ink everywhere, and prawns (good, but I couldn't bring myself to eat all of the parts that are locally considered edible). I did decline a beer to guffaws from grandpa.

After dinner, it was time to go. Lou, Grandma, and I rode out to the airport, and waited in ridiculously slow lines to check in. Finally checked in, we headed back outside to say our final farewell to various friends and family-members (apparently this is traditional airport etiquette in Vietnam). I wished them the best, lied and said of course I'd be back, and slipped grandpa my remaining cash while commanding him to secrecy with a gesture.

Lou and I had separate flights to the our next airport, both leaving around midnight and arriving at 7:30am. It wasn't until I sat down (to my middle seat :/ ) and read "4:30 flight time remaining" that I realized I'd totally forgotten about timezones. And so I woke up 4 hours later, watching the sun rise over the land of the rising sun. 

Vietnam 14 - Inevitable Climax

I'm sure you can guess how I woke up, and it never gets any better. I sorted my pockets, combed my hair, dropped caffeine, and headed outside as pointed... And waited, and waited, and then gave up and went back to the room. It's certainly a miscommunication, but it feels like an organized conspiracy against proper sleep.

About an hour later, Lou walked in asking why I didn't have shoes on. I bit my tongue, donned boots, and loaded into the SUV.  Heading out of the city, Lou immediately fell asleep in the back seat curled up with a girlfriend, leaving an unfortunately caffeinated me to listen to grandma argue with the driver in Vietnamese.

Only one mistake available: More drugs. Pepto was a definite after last night, more caffeine was a strong second. If there ever a time to borrow happiness from tomorrow it was today, so a mild gabaergic completed the cocktail. Two(ish) hours later (including a stop to pick up grandpa) the drugs finally kicked in as we took an off-ramp into the countryside.

This was even more rural than our previous stops, and we crossed countless canals on one-lane bridges before finally arriving (with a bunch of loud arguments), on the appropriate stretch of backroad we were looking for. Today's task was to perform the new year's rituals for Lou's grandparents, on her father's (not stepfather's) side. We marched through the weeds to a row of overgrown graves, and began cleaning.  But only one grave, we needed to leave the others  as-is so the appropriate grandchildren could clean them...   I grabbed a machete and assigned myself a region of weeds, and set to work. Between the drugs and having a solid helpful task I was feeling pretty good.

After cleaning, we set out a meal, poured rice wine, tea, and beer, and settled in to wait for the incense to burn out so the deceased could partake. Just like the first day, we got bored barely a quarter of the way through the incense, and decided "Good enough, it's time to eat".

We deconstructed the grave offerings, marched across the field in the opposite direction, and settled in for lunch with that half the family.  Very rural, they had chickens in their garage, an outhouse at the end of their awnings, and an excavator in their driveway. TBH, it looks like a great life.

Lou had me fly the drone to check out the land she purchased (an empty acre of marsh across the street, where her father grew up?) then we had an excessively large (and delicious) meal and made polite conversation. According to Lou, I have three stories: getting arrested in NYC, when she injected a chip in my hand, and cutting off my finger. Before I knew it it was time to go.

However, instead of going home, we stopped by grandma/grandpas house. And then, instead of going home, we went to visit more relatives, so it's time for another episode of Vietnamese Cribs! These relatives ran a pharmacy, so they lived in a commercial building, 30% larger in size than the hackerspace (1600sqft?) but similar layout.   The first quarter was pharmacy, the second quarter was medical beds (half occupied - apparently pharmacies in rural VN double as low-stakes hospitals), the third quarter garage and lofted bedrooms, and the final quarter was kitchen/bathroom/patio.

And here, it was time for second lunch! Despite stuffing myself to the gills less than an hour ago it was time for another four-course goodbye meal. Initially, I was focused on befriending the kittens, who scampered between the chairs torn between their fear of people and their desire for scraps. However, as the meal wore on, I was increasingly distracted by my seat-neighbor, who found the chance to drink with a gringo a chance to defend his native honor and busted out his home-made moonshine. 30% ABV? (thank God), inoffensive taste, and the strongest thing I'd drank in weeks.  Initially, I did my best to minimize the abuse to my liver. I would take half-shots of moonshine or substitute beer, but uncle said we were each having a bottle, and Lou wasn't about to let me back out.

So I accepted the assignment. If she was going to ignore me for days and then demand I get drunk... might as well.  I matched this motherfucker shot-for-shot though an entire water bottle of moonshine ricewine. Success. We're both winners, time to go home! 

Hell no. Lou insisted we hit the two-bottle goal, nobody else could keep up with uncle so this was a special treat. I learned Lou's sister is adopted, which I figured "explains how she could be tall and hot"...  I'm definitely feeling it, but no worries. We did another water bottle of moonshine, this time made with fungal caterpillars.  Let me quote wikipedia here:  Cordyceps fungus parasitizes caterpillars to produce a fruiting body which is valued in traditional Chinese medicine as an aphrodisiac. These often contain high amounts of heavy metals, making them potentially toxic. But also, it is delicious.  And yes, I had to explain the term "aphrodisiac" to Lou with a crude hand motion under the table.  But the bottle is empty! We're done with this game. We can both shake hands and head out.  

Fuck no. Uncle was up for one more, and Lou demanded we continue, and at this point I was in no case to say no.  We split a mug of raw of unfiltered moonshine, complete with chunks of tiny caterpillars, regretting every drop. Lou's friend wanted to help, and less for me is definitely welcome.  "Clearly she wants the horny caterpillar" I told Lou, only for her to glare daggers at me.  Fuck it, who cares. We finish the mug and I'm relieved to have made it. 

Nope. We have to end by splitting a beer, and Lou wasn't letting me say no. I've surrendered my free will for the last two weeks, why should today be any different? I slammed half a beer.

When I drafted this drunk I wrote "And then I politely made my excuses, stepped away to the restroom, and un-chugged half a beer" which is a total whitewash. The reality is... I have no memories of the next five minutes. My memory resumes with me puking a liter of beer and caterpillars into the kitchen sink, while panicked Vietnamese noises start behind me.  This was apparently the signal the party had been waiting for, I was immediately whisked away to dodge traffic (which I'm still great at, even drunk) and load into the car.

Having purged the toxins from my body, I quickly felt okay. Lou, however, passed out snoring in the back seat while her GPS demanded we make U-turns. I asked her to mute her phone, and she responded angrily, accusing me of attempting to seduce all her friends and her sister... I had no idea how to respond, so I went with the truth:  I desperately need to pee.

I had resigned myself to jumping out at the next intersection, urinating in an alley, and walking home when the driver (another uncle?) pulled into a gas station. Blessed relief.  When I got back in the car Lou told me that she would be getting out at the next stop to hang with friends, and I would be continuing to the apartment with her mom. I couldn't give a fuck.  I accepted that this friendship of a decade might be over a week ago, if the final straw is getting drunk so she could leave me behind... fair trade. 

A drunken draft of today's blog, and finally some sleep with the lights off!. That lasted until 1am, when Lou and a few friends stumbled in to flick on the lights and climb into the loft for an hour of giggling while I regretted my decision not to nope out a few days ago.

Vietnam 13: Scoots

The family had appointments this morning, so I was left alone. My jetlag, maintained by a healthy routine of 6am rousings, didn't let me over-sleep, but I did chill in bed, enjoying a few hours to be alone. I finally caught up on my blog, read several chapters, and deeply considered abandoning the family to chill solo on the beach. 

But apparently today's big event is seeing if Brice can survive scooters in VN! Nevermind. Of course I'm in. I can't study traffic flow for two weeks and skip the final exam. We loaded up, sister driving Lou on one scooter, while I followed on grandpa's motorbike (aka scooter with a shifter). It was great. Jockeying through traffic, deciding where to allow myself to be cut-off and where to be the aggressor... accelerating through intersections, scanning all the traffic while remaining locked to the red-and-black helmet ahead... all in all, easier than I thought it would be. And so much fun.  Broken rice for lunch, then back to the streets headed to Lou's old teacher's home* before weaving to a friends hotel**, ultimately heading home and claiming total victory. Mom was, of course, worried at home the whole time - but worried I'd be arrested, not dead, so that's some measure of trust.

Some notes on the Honda Cub: There's no manual clutch, merely some sort of centrifugal disengagement when the RPMs drop too low, so in order to change gears you kick the shifter hard. The shifter is "GP Shift" - meaning it's inverted from traditional shifting style (1N234 vs 5432N1). A bit weird off the line, but I quickly realized I could just leave it in 2nd or 3rd and it would do everything I asked. It might be a bit louder, but no worries about accidentally finding neutral while rolling into oncoming traffic (again). 109cc's were plenty of power for everything we were doing, and the only real complaint would be the front brakes, which were scarily spongy. I quickly learned to rely on the rear, and as long as I remembered to cover said rear everything was copacetic.

A very minor secondary complaint: The turn-signal made a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP sound whenever it was on, and since I was riding dirty (US M-licenses don't count in VN, and grandpa didn't bring his registration paperwork) I had to be careful to follow all the laws, including proper turn-signal usage.  All in all, quite fun, and very hot. Midday in Saigon, surrounded by engines and pavement, sun beating down... It definitely would be harder if I had to navigate at the same time, and I would have plotted more conservatives lines through some of the roundabouts/oncoming lanes, so shadowing another bike was awesome. 

*Looping back, Lou's teacher was well off. Still an open house, with no doors front or rear, but it was fenced and gated, with a garage beneath part of the house to park a car (or actually a handful of scooters). It was a beautiful house, filled with vases and wood carvings, and she put out a fruit plate for us. Despite having just stuffed myself at lunch, I forced myself to eat a few pieces to be polite.

**Lou's friend spoke English, all I remember is "Four hours of sleep isn't a vacation, that's a warzone"

Once we got home, Grandpa had cooked second (third?) lunch for us. As always, I forced down as much as I could to be polite. The pickled egg was only kinda gross, the fish delicious, and I flat-out refused the durian desert. The durian icecream was enough of an experience for that one.

After second-lunch it was nap-time, but having finally slept 8 hours for once, naps were not forthcoming. I was happy to grab a shower and enjoy the AC though, and around 5pm Lou had to run out to pick up something for her phone at the mobile store... and she came up with a great plan. Grandpa could drive me to get a "sexxxy masaaaaaage"! Oh hell no. I already wasn't into the idea, and the thought of having grandpa drop me off for such an occasion made my stomach curl. I refused to leave my futon despite Lou's pleading. Maybe I should have ran away... They say if you want to test a friendship, travel together. If you want to play on hard-mode, travel with a group that all speaks a language you don't.  I'm curious to see if we pass.


Three hours later, Lou was still not back from her quick run to the store.  I had finally caught up the blog and finished my book, so I went out to wander the streets. No goal, just seeing what there was to see. I walked a basic new-area route: a series of expanding figure 8s that range further and further abroad while doublechecking you can always find your way home.  A handful of bars and restaurants, kids playing in the street, all of whom would yell hello to the random white-boy. One even came up and introduced himself in surprisingly good English for a 7 yearold. [It was Ty, the kid we almost took to the tunnels a week ago!]  And of course, now that I'd given up on Lou coming home, she texted asking where I was, so we met back up at the house to go out for drinks.

Lou, her sister, and I wandered down the road to the local bar street, where I chose one of the few bars that didn't have music blasting at full volume. Lou was delighted that it was across the street from a bar that had sexy girrrrls dancing, and then we found out that our bar was actually an extension of that bar, and the sexy girrrrls would come over for birthdays and such, in that worldwide phenomenon of trying to embarrass the fuck out of whoever's birthday it is.  And now that these girls were closer.... they're rather tall, aren't they? And the proportions aren't quite right?

It's a ladyboy bar.  And of course the ladyboys are gonna notice the lone white-boy, and of course Lou is gonna video everything. I informed her that I would murder her if that video got out, and she apparently decided she was ready to shuffle off this mortal coil, since she immediately posted it to every mutual groupchat we had, in a race between a video of ladyboys stroking my leg and me banning her from them. Only two days left, thank god, because I'm pretty sure the US and VN have a mutual extradition treaty... Apart from the ritual humiliation, it was very enjoyable people-watching, some delicious spicy bar-snacks, and then we headed back to the apartment to sleep (with only half the lights on!) and a quick 4am bout of food poisoning.

Lou won the race :/

VN12 - Back to the HCMC

Apparently part of authentic Vietnamese living is sleeping with the lights on. I don't get it, but I couldn't find the switch, so I crawled into bed next to grandpa who was asleep, but still listening to traditional Vietnamese music at max volume. I remember Lou walking into the room to pee, laughing at me, and leaving me to deal. Luckily exhaustion took me down despite the circumstances, though it wasn't a very deep sleep with all 5 of us in the same room.

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We checked out early, and drove through the rain to the airport, stopping for food (More pho or rice, the only meals we eat) on the way.  The airport was small, only two gates, and the flight was empty. I jumped to a window-seat but it was still mostly clouds. I think I slept half of it... but who knows anymore.

75m later and we were back in Saigon, following Lou as she ran across the entire airport. Apparently this lot is the best to catch a cab in, as if we hadn't passed dozen on the forced-march. Returning to HCMC after being away for a week, two things stand out to me; 1) It is so hot here.  2) Traffic is incredibly bad, especially in a car. A scooter can slip through the cracks and find creative routes... a car is.... stuck in traffic. 

A lot of traffic later, we arrived back at the apartment. It's laundry time! Which is good, because I'm on my last clean shirt and I run out of underwear tomorrow. I was reading while waiting for the laundry, and suddenly woke up 4 hours later. Apparently a laundry machine three feet from your futon is the secret to great sleep, because that was incredible. Refreshed, I started catching up on blogs, until

Cops stealing chairs

Lou slammed the sheet metal door open, screaming "WAKE UP". Apparently grandma is rubbing off on her. Apparently it's time to quit blogging and have dinner in Mom's room across the hall. Rice and octopus, good enough. Then it was back to scooter-taxis and we plunged back into the traffic, heading down-town. Lou was meeting with one of her childhood friends, to catch up and deliver a battery charger I'd begged off my reliability engineer at work.  I reverted to my pantomime conversation skills -  looking, following expressions, and faking it with the best of them. We had smoothies and sat on stools on the sidewalk... until the waiters rushed out and snagged every single stool on the block. Apparently someone had spotted police on their way! Two cops arrived shortly after on scooters, confiscated some stools from the vendor across the street, and then headed out. Before they were even off the block, our stools started reappearing.

But after a smoothie, Lou's friends had to head out to get back home, outside the city. Lou had other plans, she wanted to go to the red-light district to see the "Sexy Girrrrrrrls".

The red-light district (pink-light district?) is wild. It's a warren the size of an entire block, dotted with massage parlors and tiny bars, each of which has a 6-12 girls outside, most wearing skimpy outfits and looking bored - though that may be because I was with Lou.  The few times Lou was walking behind me and out-of-sight there was a lot of "hello sir" and girls intentionally bumping into me, only to giggle embarrassedly when they Lou emerged from the crowd.

I wasn't into this idea to begin with, but I've learned I don't have a choice. After a lot of "Do you think we should go to a bar?" "You should pick a girl!" "Do you want a drink?" I understood my role here. I don't understand why, but I understand what I have to do. I picked a bar at random (since they all appeared to be essentially identical) and we went in, followed by a few sexy girrrrrls. It was incredibly awkward, we picked drinks, and then had to pick girls. I went with a lager and a Dichen-Lachmen lookalike, Lou went for a vodka-coke (believe it or not, there aren't many fruity mixed drinks at these sorts of establishments) and an 18y/o (lol).

I finally got Lou talking to her girl, and then taught her to play dice (liar's poker). Of course, after a drink, then you have to buy your girl a drink, and etc etc. It was fun, and didn't cost anymore than drinking in America. And unlike Da Nang, they didn't water down their liquor. Dichen was absolutely trying to get me inebriated. We were trying to avoid getting regretfully drunk, so we said our goodbyes after three and headed out. Lou wasn't ready to go home though, so we walked over to the club-street from one of our first nights. 

Still terrible

The contrast was marked. Loud, far fewer sexy girrrrrrls, and an overwhelming crowd. This was quickly enough to convince both of us it was time to head back home. After a quick scoot home (in far less traffic) I drank several bottles of water, and then turned the lights off to go to bed. And then grandma turned the lights on. Because that's apparently how we sleep here. 

VN11 - Caves (Phong Nha)

We woke up early, as always. It's hard not to when you're all in a single room. We did not eat a massive breakfast at the hotel this time, which was a complete surprise, and headed out right away! What happened to never skipping meals? Oh, just kidding, we got a block away and then had breakfast where it was $1 cheaper. To be fair, that is 50%... but Lou and I are the ones paying for all of this, and who gives a fuck. (Also, obviously, the caffeine wore off). Afterwards we continued out to.... some cave! Last night I asked Lou about today's plans... and she told me "You don't need to know." So I'm winging all of this, and taking my backpack everywhere. 

We were the first tourists in this parking lot, which meant the stall-girls all were emphatic we needed to park in their spots, hoping we would favor their identical stand to purchase water or a souvenir. It also meant that, after a kilometer of walking up (always up) switchbacks, we had the cave to ourselves!  I know I shouldn't be surprised by this anymore, but it's freaking massive. 

Discovered in 1991, it remained unmapped until a geologic expedition came to town a decade later. Hearing of their interest, a local hunter sought them out to tell them about the windy overhang he would take shelter in during rainstorms. In caving there's a saying: "If it blows, it goes" so they sought out the crack and found a massive 31km of passages.  Thankfully, our ticket only covered the first half-mile.

TLDR? It's enormous. You could fit a McMansion inside the entry room, with gardens on every side, and the cave continued to stretch back from there.  Geologically, it's not as ornate as Luray caverns (my home cave), but that may be only due to scale. If you collapsed all the cool features into cave you couldn't drive a double-decker bus through (not literally, busses can't do stairs) it'd be the most celebrated cave in North America.

We had the cave to ourselves... until Lou's indomitable need to document her narcissism allowed a few tour-busses to catch up. Both our driver and the (bored) in-cave security guard were pressed into tripod duty, and I resorted to my own photography to kill time. Caves are a great place to refresh on the basics: Light. It's all light. Choosing the color, direction, and contrasting volumes of photons are what make some photos good, and some portraits impossible - no matter how many times you try, you're still gonna be backlit beyond recognition. Can we please stop attempting the same hopeless shot for the twelfth time?

Have you heard the story of the Russian Cosmonaut? So the cosmonaut – he’s the first man ever to go into space. And he’s got this portal window, and he’s looking out of it, and he sees the curvature of the earth. For the first time. The first man to ever look at the planet he’s from. And he’s lost in that moment. And all of a sudden, this strange tapping is coming out of the dashboard.      He rips out the control panel, takes out his tools, trying to find this sound – trying to stop this sound. But he can’t find it. He can’t stop it. It keeps going. A few hours into this, it begins to feel like torture. A few days go by with this sound and he knows that this. small. sound. will break him. But what’s he going to do? He’s up in space, alone. In a space closet. He’s got 25 days left to go - with this sound! So the cosmonaut decides that the only way to save his sanity... is to fall in love... with this sound. or so the apocryphal story from an amazing mixtape goes. It's clearly BS, but the moral strikes home.  I made a game of the instagram, fell in love with the instagram.  Grandpa made the same choice by a different route, and began posing for photos in locations he found photogenic.

First cave complete, time for....  another cave! Clearly the caffeine didn't work, so I doubled-down, grabbing a coke while Lou bought tickets. Thankfully, double-or-nothing paid off! Again, I know it's totally unsustainable, but if it lets me enjoy these natural gems at the cost of a shitty airplane ride....

Cave #2 was a boat-cave-tour! We rented out the entire boat (which meant we didn't have to wait for 6 more people) for $12, and it's a beast of a boat. I don't mean that in a flattering way, more like a workhorse, or a draft ox. The engine is near-deafening, likely a large-bore single-cylinder, and it shakes the entire boat with every stroke. And for all that, it doesn't get on-plane. It has never even heard of such a concept, and if it learned of such it would fear it like Elizabethans convinced the sheer velocity of train would be fatal.  After departing the pier, we made a brief stop where a teenaged boy ran down the shore and jumped onboard, with a 2-liter bottle of what I'm decently sure was diesel, and we were off again.

When we arrived at the cave, suddenly the boat made sense. Instead of the cacophony I feared from a dozen boats sharing an echo chamber, we shut off the engine and switched to oars - one stern and prow, pushing us along silently.  Not quite as huge as the previous cave (you'd be hard-pressed to fit a house, at least above water), this was still a massive cave. The roof of the boat slid back (by untying some ropes and manhandling it)  allowing us to admire the views straight above in addition to the 270° panorama offered by the open sides - this flaunted some incredible stalagmites... which are impressive enough until you notice the scale, these are the size of small cars and must weigh 30* tons - which is not something you normally think about until it's suspended directly over your boat.


[*chatgpt and my geologist brother arrived at the same estimate equally quickly]

We sailed 2km down the cave - to the end of the artificial lighting. There's another 5km of navigable water beyond that, but only if you opt for the 8-hour kayaking tour. We made our way back almost to the entrance, and disembarked on a naturally sandy beach within the cave, where I learned our tour-guide was also a photographer! Of course she is. Whatever, I scored a few more points in my game. Again, great cave, and the 500m walk out was full of even more incredible formations on a scale I'd never seen before. 

Exiting the cave, I found a watercloset! Success! Then we did some drone things (the DJI is incredible... I was probably 4x past visual range but still had incredible signal, and if anything ever goes wrong you can always hit "return to home and autoland" button to unfuck everything). Drones are always fun. Then we met our boat and chilled on our way back to the home-base, passing literally hundreds of identical boats - every house on shore had a couple boats parked out front. During peak season this place must be busting. As is, it appears all the boats are on rotation in strict numerical order, and after dropping us off our boat headed out, empty, to find it's berth (by which I mean the chunk-of-shore where our bow-oarsman was originally picked up. I assume they're family.)

[MAYBE DRONE VIDEO HERE]

And with that, it was 3pm! WE DID MISS A MEAL! Figures as soon as I blog it a counterfactual pops up.  Anyways, we stopped by the hostel for a "bathroom break" (actually so Lou could change), and then set off out-of-town, passing dozens of restaurants without even slowing down.  An hour later we tried to find food, but at 4pm all the lunch places had closed and the dinner-places were yet to open. After shouting at a few promising-looking restaurants (open garages with a stove surrounded by stools and chairs), we finally found somewhere that hadn't sold out. A somewhat surprised shop-owner/cook/janitor/entrepreneur served us some lukewarm food which we all devoured, thankful.

We continued on to the coast, only getting slightly lost. At one point we drove across a construction site that definitely wasn't rated for sedans, and then we started pulling up next to locals and shouting at them. I'm not sure what happened, but I heard the Vietnamese term "googlemaps" repeatedly. Four harassed locals later, we pulled up to a dude on an ATV. I thought we were gonna harass him too, but apparently this is who we were looking for!  After this hour-long drive, lunch fiasco, navigational confusion, etc... Lou turns to me and says "It's expensive, $3/person. Do you still want to go sand-sledding?"

Not especially, sand-sledding sounds lame. But apparently we'd driven all the way out there just for this, so we're definitely gonna do it. We jumped on the back of this local's massive ATV and tore out across the dunes. When we dismounted we were handed some 4mm plastic sheeting with a rope on the front and pointed towards the edge. I left my wallet in my boots (again, high-trust culture is great) and went full send. Is sand-sledding worth $3? Definitely not. You slide slowly down the hill, scooching where-ever it gets slightly less steep, and then you have to hike all the way back up. I honestly wouldn't do it if even if you were paying me $3/run.  But since we were on the top of some great dunes, I tried to teach Lou the proper way to enjoy them: By hucking yourself off the edge as hard as you can. Due to age/fitness/exhaustion I'm definitely not as fast as I used to be, but I'm happy to report I'm still dumb enough to sprint at a blind cliff and full-commit into the open sky - earning a good 20+ feet on all my attempts. It appears I've finally found Lou's limit - she couldn't bring herself to jump more than a foot or so, even when I threatened to make fun of her on the internet. Her loss, that moment where your body screams "WE'VE BEEN WEIGHTLESS TOO LONG WE'RE GONNA DIE" is sublime. All in all, 8/10. Sand sledding is shit, but tearing around dunes on a quad and a few moments finally embracing l'appel du vide are definitely worth the $3. Probably not worth the 3 hours, but c'est la vie.

And that's it. A long drive back to the hostel for showers, packing, and a couple beers. Tomorrow we fly back to HCMC.

Final score: 7/10.  Have you figured out the game?

VN10 - Headed North

Like always, we woke up too early for breakfast. Even thought we all know they'll have an extra 4 courses compared to my single plate, it's important we all go to breakfast together. I think part of this is upbringing... They eat like people who have known true hunger. Indulge at buffets, a single plate when you have to pay for it, and never skipping a meal. 

That meal survived, we went to visit tombs. Each king has an entire burial complex, designed while they were alive, even though most kings are buried elsewhere. A giant tomb is a beacon for graverobbers, so instead most were buried away from their tombs, in unmarked graves, and with such secrecy the gravediggers were often executed to assure their silence.  This king [Khai Dinh] was different, however, and instead designed his entire tomb complex so that it would collapse on anyone foolish enough to attempt a robbery. As you may be able to guess by the fascinating level of detail, our guide was back with us today!

The complex itself was on the side of a hill, because of feng-shui. And so they could build hundreds of stairs, they love stairs. The first tomb built with French materials and techniques (meaning a lot of concrete, mostly), it featured Buddhist, Indian, and Christian motifs in an attempt to bring unity to the country.  The interior was far more impressive than the exterior, extensive mosaics covering nearly every surface except for the ceiling. The ceiling full of dragons was painted by a master, who insisted on holding the brush with his feet. He claimed he needed the additional eye-relief to get the perspective right, and this flex impressed the king so much he won the job. A few quick passes with the drone (Nothing amazing, I still need practice) and we wrapped it up and headed back down all those stairs.

Our second stop was another instagram-trap, the incense store! Really, the incense district, because they have instagram trapping down to a science. That way they can capture entire busloads of Asians at once. We tried our hand at traditional incense rolling, Lou got pictures in the stacks of colored sticks (the core of rolled incense), and I got distracted with the cat sitting in the instatrap. If all instatraps featured cats I'd be an absolute fan.  I bought some lemongrass incense as highly inflated prices....  but it's hard to be angry about $4. Plus they had a cute cat.

Right next to the incense district was another tomb complex, this time for the 4th king [Tự Đức]. He had to design the entire complex himself - typically one's children design the tomb, but a youthful bout of smallpox left him sterile.  He even wrote his own epitaph, which I would link except all the translations are paywalled.  This complex was much larger but less ornate, and featured a manmade lake at the center surrounded by tombs, temples, gazebos, and obelisks.   It was also filled with schoolchildren, apparently one of the highschools from northern Vietnam had a field-trip that day... and these highschoolers couldn't stop staring at me. Apparently I look a lot like another traveler (tall white dude with long hair) who recently went viral for jumping on the back of a celebratory soccer-scooter and getting totally lost. Yeah. Fair.

Lou wanted some drone-shots here too... but right as we were about to take off, security told us it wasn't allowed. So we did what we had to. Packed it up, walked across the grounds to the far corner, and took off there! Despite being somewhat under the canopy I got it out and up pretty easily, grabbed some drone shots from a discrete altitude, and then swung it back in, tucking under the branches and landing right in front of the gate. (I'm getting better! Drones are so fun - especially in more-relaxed countries).

The last event at the tomb was another instatrap, this time down on the lake, as Lou got probably 100 photos from our tour-guide (who we should remember, only studied for her guide-certification so she didn't have to pay to do photoshoots for tourists. It all makes sense now). This was, obviously, quite boring until Lou said she needed more fish, so I grabbed one of the emergency granola bars (which has gone weeks untouched, since they stuff me with food any chance they get), and started throwing crumbs luring fish to fill out the background. Any excuse to throw food at fish, especially gorgeous koi. 

From there we hit a local market, much the same as the previous, where we stopped at a desert stall. There were 16? different pots and bowls of various semiliquids, from stewed fruits to tapioca, puddings, and syrups in all different colors... You would yell at the woman behind the counter, and she would ladle these concoctions into a glass (if you were seated on her steel bench) or a plastic bag (to go), mixing half a dozen flavors into one delicious goo.  Hard pass. Not a single one looked appetizing, let alone an admixturation of mushy diabetes. Thankfully, lunch wasn't in the market, but at a restaurant down the street. Fish, rice, peppers, pork... real food, and nobody yelled at us.

After lunch we swung by the hotel to pick up our bags, and headed back over to the fort, where our tourguide showed us the gatehouse on the 50,000vnd bill! We got back into the car, and I made a joke asking which bill we would visit next, but our tourguide was gone, vanished where we found her, and we were on our own (with the driver, who asked me to let you know is excellent and affordable. If you're going to be in Da Nang look him up.) 

From here we headed north. Far north. How far? I'm not sure, I was just told "long drive" so I made sure to pee beforehand. Thankfully, we broke it up with a few stops. The first was Our Lady of Da Vang - standard apparition of Mary, let's built a church story. They're currently in the process of tearing down that church and building a megachurch, full on cathedral size, but in an interesting mix of eastern and Christian design language. This megachurch is very much still under construction, but you can walk right in... so we did.  And there was a sketchy stairwell with no railings headed up! If you drop me in a construction site I'm going to try to roof it.... unfortunately there was a locked door for the upper maintenance passages, and fortunately I didn't have my picks on me.

We walked the rest of the campus, mass was in session in one of the side buildings (it was novel to hear the familiar Latin intonation and cadence in an entirely different language), saw the remnants of the prior church,  and an industrial-scale holy-water setup. But all in all not much happening and a pretty quick stop.

Worth noting: Almost no English was spoken on any of these drives, so I was left alone with my thoughts for far too long. This leg I was thinking about rice paddies, which were everywhere, trying to figure out the lifecycle.

1) Drain the paddy
2) Level the mud
3) Sow rice that has been soaked in water to start germination
4) Wait 20 days for growth
5a) Flood the paddy to 1-2" of water - or-
5b) Transplant the rice to a larger flooded paddy
6) Wait 3 months
7) Harvest
8) Repeat 

Even further north, we saw a memorial to the fallen in the war with the French. Best guess is they had large battle attempting a river-crossing nearby? Basically a park, even more boring, and an even quicker stop.

I apparently fell asleep, because I woke as we pulled off the side of the highway at the 17th parallel, the river where the north-south divide was officially set. Statues and flags on both sides (especially the North, since... well.... you know.) We walked out the somewhat-rickety historic bridge to the line and started hearing a voice on the loudspeaker. I thought it was classic propaganda being played for historic effect, but then the dude coughed during a long pause. Turns out it was a security guard telling us we weren't allowed to take pictures on the bridge without paying for a ticket to the museum first. Didn't stop me, since I don't speak Vietnamese and learned all this hours later, but we headed back to the car and continued down the highway. 

An empty tank (14 km remaining!) mandated the next stop at a trucker waypoint, and then we headed out into the wastelands. Miles and miles of sand dunes, scrub pines, and windmills peaking through the mists. The sun set on this dystopia as we continued north, to dinner. We only got a little lost - our planned diner (where our driver met his ex!) was closed, but after winding through some slums neighborhoods we found cheap food and headed north on the final leg.

Around 8pm, we drove past some massive glowing letters floating high in the darkness, and entered a town where they had advertisements in English. After being able to read nothing all day, the stark transition struck hard. And then - even more jarring - white people everywhere.  We had arrived in what is clearly a backpacker town, and our destination was a fancy hostel. Checking in, I learned we have a single room, for all five of us - driver included. I thought we were done with one-room living, but here we are. Thankfully a bit larger than the HCMC apartment, but only three beds, so apparently I'm sleeping with grandpa. Small mercies: The driver showed grandpa how to work the volume buttons on his phone, so tiktok is only half volume tonight. But so much closer.