Home, sweet home. We arrived last night around 1am, found out that while we physically transferred our bags through customs in Los Angeles, they were not on our plane in Seattle. Funny how that goes. We flew on 4 planes and only at the last leg of our journey did they go missing. Carl arrived in the new Versa, complete with a dozen roses each for Em and I. We dropped Em off at my folks around 2:30am. She just arrived at her destination in Oregon. So we are both safe and sound, waiting for a phone call from Alaska telling me that our bags have arrived on the morning flight and I can go pick them up. I was up til 4:30am drinking beer and eating quesadillas with Carl, playing with Ronan, and getting used to Kitty being super clingy.
Tried to sleep, woke up at 7:30am wide awake.
I never want to travel for 36 hours straight again. :)
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Twas the night before Christmas...
Wait wrong month.
We just finished our last night in Thailand shopping at Chiang Mai's infamous night market. We picked up some gifts for family, a few things for ourselves (one thing that I can't stop giggling about and will have to post photos later), and then grabbed snacks for the airports at 7-11. Alarm is going off at 4am, taxi arrives at 4:45am, and we fly out of Chiang Mai at 7am to Bangkok. 5 hours waiting at Bangkok, then on to Taiwan. 5 hours there, then the long flight to Los Angeles. We only have a 3 hour layover, then at 10:30pm we leave on the last leg of our journey to Seattle! Well, the last leg of my journey. Em still has a 4 hour drive back to Oregon ahead of her.
Anyway, it's been a hell of a trip and I can't wait to get home.
We just finished our last night in Thailand shopping at Chiang Mai's infamous night market. We picked up some gifts for family, a few things for ourselves (one thing that I can't stop giggling about and will have to post photos later), and then grabbed snacks for the airports at 7-11. Alarm is going off at 4am, taxi arrives at 4:45am, and we fly out of Chiang Mai at 7am to Bangkok. 5 hours waiting at Bangkok, then on to Taiwan. 5 hours there, then the long flight to Los Angeles. We only have a 3 hour layover, then at 10:30pm we leave on the last leg of our journey to Seattle! Well, the last leg of my journey. Em still has a 4 hour drive back to Oregon ahead of her.
Anyway, it's been a hell of a trip and I can't wait to get home.
Friday, September 19, 2008
The long road home
We're in the homestretch now. Last night we flew from Saigon to Bangkok. It was pouring rain, flashes of lightening lit the sky. We're currently in a hostel outside the city center, killing time before heading back to the airport to fly to Chiang Mai. We have 2 nights in Chiang Mai, time to get a massage and finish up our shopping. We've been dumping nonessentials (old clothes and books) in order to lighten our packs and make more room for the things we've picked up along the way.
I can't say that I'm not excited to come home. The first 5 weeks flew by, but once we hit the last week, time has slowed down and our main focus has been keeping busy in a bid to keep us distracted from being homesick. Just a few more days and we'll be back!
I can't say that I'm not excited to come home. The first 5 weeks flew by, but once we hit the last week, time has slowed down and our main focus has been keeping busy in a bid to keep us distracted from being homesick. Just a few more days and we'll be back!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Foreigners
Hey all. I know it has been a while since I have contributed anything to the blog, so with a few minutes of some down time, I thought I would put down a few thoughts. The past week and some, I have been scuba diving in Nha Trang, four of those days with Wesa, then a rest, then another few days doing another certification. Unfortunately for me, my scuba instructor happened to be thing really interesting, young Scottish guy, who I got along with really well. His assistant was also fun, a young Frenchman getting his divemaster certification--his English was only so-so, but we both spoke "beer" so we got along well. Needless to say, there was plenty of time on the boat to talk about scuba diving with these characters, but also about their experiences of being from other countries and living in working in Vietnam.
Rafael, the young Frenchman, had limited vocab, but was quite vehement about his feelings. He couldn't wait to finish his course, so he could leave to go work in Thailand. He said several times, "The Vietnamese, they see you and see money. That's it. They just want to fuck you for your money." (think of a really thick French accent) From the tourist perspective, it is easy to see why someone might feel that way. The minute you step off a bus, or out of your hostel/guesthouse/hotel room, you are bombared by vietnamese people trying to get you to spend your money. The people in your hotel want to make you breakfast, or sell you train, plane, bus, or boat tickets for tours or transportation, or they want to see you snacks, or recommend you to another of their favorite friends who runs a similar business. As soon as you step outside into the humid air, there are multitudes of people trying to get your money. Hundreds of times in a day, someone offering you "motobai?" to take you somewhere, or shoving a pamphlet for food or a tour into your hand, or trying to drag you into their shop, or force feed you something fried. Even the most easy-going and mild mannered person will find a limit to the badgering--sitting on the beach attempting to relax is very difficult when you have 5 somewhat toothless women wearing straw cone shaped hats peering down at you in your bathing suit, offering you Pringles or bracelets. It is with concerted effort, that I personally remain mild mannered in my responses to each and every person I meet, but I'll admit, it does come with some effort. (however, i will add that even though they try to get my money, it has always been without force--if they can get me to spend it, then it's on me, I paid the inflated price--they did not physically take it from me. We've had no trouble with theft, nor have we heard of anyone who had something physically having things taken from them).
But Raf's comments have stuck with me...especially after talking with another girl from Vietnam, who I did my deep dive with a few days ago. Wesa and I had spent an afternoon at the beach, and observed that most of the Vietnamese women played in the sea fully clothed. Not wanting to be offensive, I had not disrobed all the way to my bathing suit. I asked Tuyen, between dives, if I was doing something offensive, but wearing a bathing suit. She laughed, and made some comments about how older women cluck at tourists in their revealing bathing costumes, and how they grumble at young Vietnamese women who push the boundaries, but wearing a full piece bathing suit. She blew off my questions and said, "Don't worry about it. You are a foreigner. You can wear whatever you want." Essentially, you are an outsider. You aren't one of us, you don't belong here, you won't stay, we put up with you, which is why we don't really care what you wear, you are just going to leave, and you are a means to an end because you come here and spend money.
I find it strange that people here in Asia calls us "foreigners" instead of tourists. They specifically differentiate us from the Vietnamese tourists. We are "foreign." As such, there is little that we can do to find a niche with the Vietnamese people, in the same way that they treat each other. I suppose after having visited all these museums, i can see why--foreigners have been coming to this country for thousands of years, wrecking havoc, and then finding themselves repelled by the Vietnamese. What does it mean, really? For us, generally, it means that we spend anywhere for 2x or more for the same product or service as a local Vietnamese person. It also means that Vietnamese living abroad are also charged inflated amounts--they are perceived as also being "foreigners"--people who can afford it. For the Europeans and others who live and work in Vietnam, it means a constant and likely fruitless struggle to find a comfortable niche in Vietnamese society. For Raf, the Frenchman, it meant that he would just bear it, and huddle with the other ex-pats in the dive shop in the same situation as him and drink beer each night, and go dancing with his girlfriend.
My dive instructor, easy-going Scottish Lewis, expressed to me some similar significant frustration about the arrangement. He plans to live abroad and teach scuba for as long as he can. The outfit he works for in Nha Trang is considered one of "the best" in Vietnam, yet his discomfort is palpable. He isn't happy in Vietnam--for similar reasons Raf expressed--it just hadn't gotten comfortable, like other places around the world he had visited and stayed to teach. The people hadn't relaxed at all, or tried to really get to know the him under the skin color. And to him, it didn't appear that they would.
We have moved from city to city so often, it is difficult to really get a sense of the people, beyond the ones trying to get you to spend money. There are glimpses...but its more like a tease, because you know it would be difficult to really get a good look inside to their lives. Diving with Tuyen and sharing peanut butter oreos, practicing English phrases with children walking on the street, pretend racing three 8 year olds on one bicycle on their way home for lunch (they won), having an old lady brush sand off my breasts on the beach, smiling in a difficult situation and seeing a relieved smile in response. For those moments, I have loved Vietnam.
Which brings me to another topic. Vietnam. People often talk about the "real Vietnam." And how the cities aren't the "real Vietnam." How one must trek and spend money and go on tours and thumb and home-stay to see the "real Vietnam." But what exactly is the "real" anything? Vietnam is changing so quickly, I would argue that the cities that have sprung up and the tourism are "real Vietnam." Its just not the same Vietnam. Every country in the world has changed due to advances in technology, education, health care, and exposure to the rest of the world. What is exactly is the "real United States?" Native Americans living off the land in wigwams on the plains? The confederate war re-enactors running around the south, reliving battles and pretending to kill yanks? Seriously--how on earth can you define the "real" anything?!?! Yet tourists do it constantly--the "real ______." I would simply argue that Vietnam is changing rapidly, for good, bad, just like the rest of the world. But to tramp to a country simply to see what one perceives to be the "real" anything makes me think of people going to the zoo, to observe the wild animals in their 'natural' habitat.
Of the countries we have visited, I have enjoyed Vietnam the most. I can't exactly describe the people here, the immense passion and capacity that they seem to carry within them, the potential of this place. I think of my "glimpses" into the Vietnam that must exist for the Vietnamese people. And, I think of Lewis, and of Raf, and of myself and my sister, far from home, in a place where we are obviously limitedly welcome. It makes me long for home, to be in a place where I am welcome, not for what I represent, but simply as I am.
Rafael, the young Frenchman, had limited vocab, but was quite vehement about his feelings. He couldn't wait to finish his course, so he could leave to go work in Thailand. He said several times, "The Vietnamese, they see you and see money. That's it. They just want to fuck you for your money." (think of a really thick French accent) From the tourist perspective, it is easy to see why someone might feel that way. The minute you step off a bus, or out of your hostel/guesthouse/hotel room, you are bombared by vietnamese people trying to get you to spend your money. The people in your hotel want to make you breakfast, or sell you train, plane, bus, or boat tickets for tours or transportation, or they want to see you snacks, or recommend you to another of their favorite friends who runs a similar business. As soon as you step outside into the humid air, there are multitudes of people trying to get your money. Hundreds of times in a day, someone offering you "motobai?" to take you somewhere, or shoving a pamphlet for food or a tour into your hand, or trying to drag you into their shop, or force feed you something fried. Even the most easy-going and mild mannered person will find a limit to the badgering--sitting on the beach attempting to relax is very difficult when you have 5 somewhat toothless women wearing straw cone shaped hats peering down at you in your bathing suit, offering you Pringles or bracelets. It is with concerted effort, that I personally remain mild mannered in my responses to each and every person I meet, but I'll admit, it does come with some effort. (however, i will add that even though they try to get my money, it has always been without force--if they can get me to spend it, then it's on me, I paid the inflated price--they did not physically take it from me. We've had no trouble with theft, nor have we heard of anyone who had something physically having things taken from them).
But Raf's comments have stuck with me...especially after talking with another girl from Vietnam, who I did my deep dive with a few days ago. Wesa and I had spent an afternoon at the beach, and observed that most of the Vietnamese women played in the sea fully clothed. Not wanting to be offensive, I had not disrobed all the way to my bathing suit. I asked Tuyen, between dives, if I was doing something offensive, but wearing a bathing suit. She laughed, and made some comments about how older women cluck at tourists in their revealing bathing costumes, and how they grumble at young Vietnamese women who push the boundaries, but wearing a full piece bathing suit. She blew off my questions and said, "Don't worry about it. You are a foreigner. You can wear whatever you want." Essentially, you are an outsider. You aren't one of us, you don't belong here, you won't stay, we put up with you, which is why we don't really care what you wear, you are just going to leave, and you are a means to an end because you come here and spend money.
I find it strange that people here in Asia calls us "foreigners" instead of tourists. They specifically differentiate us from the Vietnamese tourists. We are "foreign." As such, there is little that we can do to find a niche with the Vietnamese people, in the same way that they treat each other. I suppose after having visited all these museums, i can see why--foreigners have been coming to this country for thousands of years, wrecking havoc, and then finding themselves repelled by the Vietnamese. What does it mean, really? For us, generally, it means that we spend anywhere for 2x or more for the same product or service as a local Vietnamese person. It also means that Vietnamese living abroad are also charged inflated amounts--they are perceived as also being "foreigners"--people who can afford it. For the Europeans and others who live and work in Vietnam, it means a constant and likely fruitless struggle to find a comfortable niche in Vietnamese society. For Raf, the Frenchman, it meant that he would just bear it, and huddle with the other ex-pats in the dive shop in the same situation as him and drink beer each night, and go dancing with his girlfriend.
My dive instructor, easy-going Scottish Lewis, expressed to me some similar significant frustration about the arrangement. He plans to live abroad and teach scuba for as long as he can. The outfit he works for in Nha Trang is considered one of "the best" in Vietnam, yet his discomfort is palpable. He isn't happy in Vietnam--for similar reasons Raf expressed--it just hadn't gotten comfortable, like other places around the world he had visited and stayed to teach. The people hadn't relaxed at all, or tried to really get to know the him under the skin color. And to him, it didn't appear that they would.
We have moved from city to city so often, it is difficult to really get a sense of the people, beyond the ones trying to get you to spend money. There are glimpses...but its more like a tease, because you know it would be difficult to really get a good look inside to their lives. Diving with Tuyen and sharing peanut butter oreos, practicing English phrases with children walking on the street, pretend racing three 8 year olds on one bicycle on their way home for lunch (they won), having an old lady brush sand off my breasts on the beach, smiling in a difficult situation and seeing a relieved smile in response. For those moments, I have loved Vietnam.
Which brings me to another topic. Vietnam. People often talk about the "real Vietnam." And how the cities aren't the "real Vietnam." How one must trek and spend money and go on tours and thumb and home-stay to see the "real Vietnam." But what exactly is the "real" anything? Vietnam is changing so quickly, I would argue that the cities that have sprung up and the tourism are "real Vietnam." Its just not the same Vietnam. Every country in the world has changed due to advances in technology, education, health care, and exposure to the rest of the world. What is exactly is the "real United States?" Native Americans living off the land in wigwams on the plains? The confederate war re-enactors running around the south, reliving battles and pretending to kill yanks? Seriously--how on earth can you define the "real" anything?!?! Yet tourists do it constantly--the "real ______." I would simply argue that Vietnam is changing rapidly, for good, bad, just like the rest of the world. But to tramp to a country simply to see what one perceives to be the "real" anything makes me think of people going to the zoo, to observe the wild animals in their 'natural' habitat.
Of the countries we have visited, I have enjoyed Vietnam the most. I can't exactly describe the people here, the immense passion and capacity that they seem to carry within them, the potential of this place. I think of my "glimpses" into the Vietnam that must exist for the Vietnamese people. And, I think of Lewis, and of Raf, and of myself and my sister, far from home, in a place where we are obviously limitedly welcome. It makes me long for home, to be in a place where I am welcome, not for what I represent, but simply as I am.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The Gibbon Experience
Ahh The Gibbon Experience. I refer to this experience as Fat Camp for good reason. A little background: The Gibbon Experience is touted as a "eco tourism forest conservation project. Our project funds forest protection and community projects in Bokeo Nature Reserve, Northern Laos. Guests stay in tree houses and use our zip line cable gliding network to scour the primary forest in search of the illusive Black Gibbon." Easier to just copy paste from their website. Em and I were happy to spend some money helping the locals preserve their forest and animal life. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.
We spend the weekend with 3 guys and 1 girl, a small enough group that we got to know each other fairly well. The drive out was uneventful...the driver picked up locals and gave them a lift during the 3 hour ride. We were dropped off next to a river and promptly started our hike. During the rainy season in Laos, the way to Gibbon is by foot...a 7 hour hike on dirt roads, muddy footpaths, and deep jungle ravines. We only had the water that we carried with us, 1.5 liters each, and a sandwich. It must have been in the 90's with 70%+ humidity. Before we were halfway there, we were dripping with sweat. One "shortcut" through the jungle proved to a primer for the rest of the trip, an hour slog down one of the steepest hillsides I've walked on, then back up the other hillside to the road. The sun bore down on us relentlessly while we trudged up and down hills.
After 6 hours, we arrived at a small village where we could buy more water, soda, or beer. We rested and interacted with the local village children. The young ones were a bit shy but eager to see their images on our cameras. The older ones hung back, watching us with emotionless faces. After a brief rest, we struck out on a small, muddy footpath the rest of the way up the mountainside. We believe that it was during this part that Em lost her moneybelt. Perhaps it fell in the river, or was picked up by some soldiers we saw descending the hill. Who knows.
At the top of the path, we were met by a group of guides who handed us each a harness and instructed us on how to safely put it on. Once we had our gear, we walked a bit longer to our first zipline, attached ourselves to it, and flew across the jungle to our first treehouse. On arrival, we removed our dirty shoes and socks, cleaned up, and started claiming beds. The bathroom had a small toilet, sink, and wooden grate for showering. The kitchen had a sink, a container of coffee, sugar, plates, cups, and a plastic snack chest. There wasn't much else. Our guides immediately dug into the snack box, grabbing M&M's and hanging out. After they left, we checked the snack box only to find no more candy (shakes fist), a huge bag of lychees, and cans of condensed milk.
After dinner was brought to us, we settled down to sleep. Before we passed out, one guy gave a yelp and flashlights were turned on. Apparently rats came out at night to find food, running everywhere. The beds were just mattresses on the floor with sheets for mosquito nets, so most of us lay awake worried that a rat would wander inside. This wasn't how I thought it would be.
In the morning, we were shown a series of ziplines that we could play on until breakfast. Once you get the hang of it, ziplinning is pretty fun. The hardest part is getting the momentum to make it all the way to the end (otherwise you have to turn backwards and haul yourself to the platform) and braking enough that you won't slam into the tree at the end. Back at the treehouse, most of us managed to see Gibbons playing in the treetops. They are fast little guys, and none of us took photos.
After breakfast, we packed our stuff and took off for Treehouse #5, a 3 hour hike. This time, we encountered more mud, leeches, and 3 more ziplines. Leeches were smaller than expected, but very very very fast, grabbing onto our shoes and legs before most of us knew what happened. By the time we made it to the treehouse, we were all ready to drop. The guides at this treehouse informed us that we may or may not get dinner that night. The supply man from the village hadn't been up with the horse for 10 days, very lazy they called him. Some nights, they themselves didn't get to eat. Luckily, they managed to scrape together enough food for us to have dinner, and then came back after we had gone to bed with even more supplies after the horse arrived. Fortified, we slept much better than the first night.
The 3rd day arrived, and we started the long trek back down to the road. We had to traverse leech country again, gave back our harnesses, and descended the way we had arrived. It was tough going. If anything, it was even hotter. Thunderstorms brewed in the distance. It took us 8 hours to make it back to the road and by then, I could barely walk. I wasn't the only one. Most of us left our Gibbon shoes there for the locals, never wanting to see them again. We were fed, packed back into a truck, and headed back to town.
I think if I were to recommend this, I would suggest going during the dry season. This way, you can get a ride to the village, then only have an hour walk up the hillside to contend with. The walk was hard...the hardest physical experience I've had in over a decade. It was worth it though, now that I've had a month to reflect on the experience.
The very beginning. Little did we know what was in store for us.
Crossing a bridge at the very beginning of our hike in...this is the easiest part.
Taking a break on the hike in.
Em taking a break on the hike in.
Cows.
Rice farmer's house.
Example of slash and burn agriculture. The locals cut most of the trees down, burn it, then plant fields of rice in the nutrient-rich soil.
Village at the base of the hill below Gibbon Experience.
Village children. The smaller ones loved checking us out. The older ones watched us warily.
Village children.
Children looking at a photo of themselves.
Village children.
This little girl carried this baby everywhere for about 15 minutes. As she made one more pass by us, her skirt slipped and started to fall off. She ran up the hill while we tried to giggle quietly to ourselves.
Mud mud mud mud and more mud.
3 pairs of socks and I still got blisters.
View from Treehouse 1.
Guestbook in Treehouse 1.
Mud on my shoes.
Em coming in via zipline.
Dirty shoes.
Map of Gibbon Experience...treehouse locations, ziplines, and paths.
We were so hungry before breakfast was brought over on the first morning that we roasted baguettes over the propane burner.
Bamboo surrounding the path between ziplines.
Ferns...I think I have one of these growing at home. :)
Name of one of the treehouses.
Checking out a treehouse being built near the ziplines.
Luke.
Em relaxing after we trudged through leech country to get to the 2nd treehouse.
Moonrise on our 2nd night.
Spiderweb in the morning.
Stickbug.
Spiderweb in the morning.
Village child.
Teapot, coffee cups, sugar, and candle.
Coffee crystals.
Breakfast. Basket of rice, container of sausage and vegetables, and a basket of fruit (lychees).
Typical meal: rice, cabbage, beans, tomatoes, onions, a bit of meat (we only had meat 2 out of 7 meals).
2 locals from the kitchen located near the 2nd treehouse.
Mosquito coils.
Roof of the 2nd treehouse.
Kitchen in the 2nd treehouse.
Bathroom in treehouse 2.
Leech in my shoe. I hate these little buggers. They are very fast, very persistent, and I carried a few back with me long after we left the leech-infested area.
Driving back to town.
Rainbow at the end of our day.
We spend the weekend with 3 guys and 1 girl, a small enough group that we got to know each other fairly well. The drive out was uneventful...the driver picked up locals and gave them a lift during the 3 hour ride. We were dropped off next to a river and promptly started our hike. During the rainy season in Laos, the way to Gibbon is by foot...a 7 hour hike on dirt roads, muddy footpaths, and deep jungle ravines. We only had the water that we carried with us, 1.5 liters each, and a sandwich. It must have been in the 90's with 70%+ humidity. Before we were halfway there, we were dripping with sweat. One "shortcut" through the jungle proved to a primer for the rest of the trip, an hour slog down one of the steepest hillsides I've walked on, then back up the other hillside to the road. The sun bore down on us relentlessly while we trudged up and down hills.
After 6 hours, we arrived at a small village where we could buy more water, soda, or beer. We rested and interacted with the local village children. The young ones were a bit shy but eager to see their images on our cameras. The older ones hung back, watching us with emotionless faces. After a brief rest, we struck out on a small, muddy footpath the rest of the way up the mountainside. We believe that it was during this part that Em lost her moneybelt. Perhaps it fell in the river, or was picked up by some soldiers we saw descending the hill. Who knows.
At the top of the path, we were met by a group of guides who handed us each a harness and instructed us on how to safely put it on. Once we had our gear, we walked a bit longer to our first zipline, attached ourselves to it, and flew across the jungle to our first treehouse. On arrival, we removed our dirty shoes and socks, cleaned up, and started claiming beds. The bathroom had a small toilet, sink, and wooden grate for showering. The kitchen had a sink, a container of coffee, sugar, plates, cups, and a plastic snack chest. There wasn't much else. Our guides immediately dug into the snack box, grabbing M&M's and hanging out. After they left, we checked the snack box only to find no more candy (shakes fist), a huge bag of lychees, and cans of condensed milk.
After dinner was brought to us, we settled down to sleep. Before we passed out, one guy gave a yelp and flashlights were turned on. Apparently rats came out at night to find food, running everywhere. The beds were just mattresses on the floor with sheets for mosquito nets, so most of us lay awake worried that a rat would wander inside. This wasn't how I thought it would be.
In the morning, we were shown a series of ziplines that we could play on until breakfast. Once you get the hang of it, ziplinning is pretty fun. The hardest part is getting the momentum to make it all the way to the end (otherwise you have to turn backwards and haul yourself to the platform) and braking enough that you won't slam into the tree at the end. Back at the treehouse, most of us managed to see Gibbons playing in the treetops. They are fast little guys, and none of us took photos.
After breakfast, we packed our stuff and took off for Treehouse #5, a 3 hour hike. This time, we encountered more mud, leeches, and 3 more ziplines. Leeches were smaller than expected, but very very very fast, grabbing onto our shoes and legs before most of us knew what happened. By the time we made it to the treehouse, we were all ready to drop. The guides at this treehouse informed us that we may or may not get dinner that night. The supply man from the village hadn't been up with the horse for 10 days, very lazy they called him. Some nights, they themselves didn't get to eat. Luckily, they managed to scrape together enough food for us to have dinner, and then came back after we had gone to bed with even more supplies after the horse arrived. Fortified, we slept much better than the first night.
The 3rd day arrived, and we started the long trek back down to the road. We had to traverse leech country again, gave back our harnesses, and descended the way we had arrived. It was tough going. If anything, it was even hotter. Thunderstorms brewed in the distance. It took us 8 hours to make it back to the road and by then, I could barely walk. I wasn't the only one. Most of us left our Gibbon shoes there for the locals, never wanting to see them again. We were fed, packed back into a truck, and headed back to town.
I think if I were to recommend this, I would suggest going during the dry season. This way, you can get a ride to the village, then only have an hour walk up the hillside to contend with. The walk was hard...the hardest physical experience I've had in over a decade. It was worth it though, now that I've had a month to reflect on the experience.
The very beginning. Little did we know what was in store for us.
Crossing a bridge at the very beginning of our hike in...this is the easiest part.
Taking a break on the hike in.
Em taking a break on the hike in.
Cows.
Rice farmer's house.
Example of slash and burn agriculture. The locals cut most of the trees down, burn it, then plant fields of rice in the nutrient-rich soil.
Village at the base of the hill below Gibbon Experience.
Village children. The smaller ones loved checking us out. The older ones watched us warily.
Village children.
Children looking at a photo of themselves.
Village children.
This little girl carried this baby everywhere for about 15 minutes. As she made one more pass by us, her skirt slipped and started to fall off. She ran up the hill while we tried to giggle quietly to ourselves.
Mud mud mud mud and more mud.
3 pairs of socks and I still got blisters.
View from Treehouse 1.
Guestbook in Treehouse 1.
Mud on my shoes.
Em coming in via zipline.
Dirty shoes.
Map of Gibbon Experience...treehouse locations, ziplines, and paths.
We were so hungry before breakfast was brought over on the first morning that we roasted baguettes over the propane burner.
Bamboo surrounding the path between ziplines.
Ferns...I think I have one of these growing at home. :)
Name of one of the treehouses.
Checking out a treehouse being built near the ziplines.
Luke.
Em relaxing after we trudged through leech country to get to the 2nd treehouse.
Moonrise on our 2nd night.
Spiderweb in the morning.
Stickbug.
Spiderweb in the morning.
Village child.
Teapot, coffee cups, sugar, and candle.
Coffee crystals.
Breakfast. Basket of rice, container of sausage and vegetables, and a basket of fruit (lychees).
Typical meal: rice, cabbage, beans, tomatoes, onions, a bit of meat (we only had meat 2 out of 7 meals).
2 locals from the kitchen located near the 2nd treehouse.
Mosquito coils.
Roof of the 2nd treehouse.
Kitchen in the 2nd treehouse.
Bathroom in treehouse 2.
Leech in my shoe. I hate these little buggers. They are very fast, very persistent, and I carried a few back with me long after we left the leech-infested area.
Driving back to town.
Rainbow at the end of our day.
Planning ahead
We just booked flights from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Bangkok on Septmber 19th. The fees they charged on top of the price of the tickets are as follows:
Administration Fee 16.00USD
Airport Tax 28.00USD
Fuel Surcharge 56.00USD
Insurance Surcharge 3.00USD
Total: 103.00USD
Checked Baggage Handling Fee 6.00USD (for 3 bags).
Funny about that last one...American airlines are charging a lot more than $2USD for a checked bag. Pfft. When we flew from Vientiane, Laos to Ha Noi, Vietnam, our 70 minute flight included a full meal, something you couldn't get on a regular 3-hour flight from say, Seattle to Denver. Our long flight from Seattle to Taiwan came with 3 meals, free headphones, and a full list of movies, music albums, pillows and blankets.
So the plans for the remaining portion of our trip are starting to solidify. Em has one more day of diving, then we're hopefully hopping aboard a night bus to Saigon. We have to book that tonight (reminder hint). So Saigon ETA is September 16th. We'll spend a few days checking out the museums including the Museum of War Crimes, now renamed the War Remnants Museum. Oy, "museum" is starting to look like a funny word, so I should move to another subject. I hope to get the rest of my shopping done as well.
We fly to Bangkok on the 19th, where we have to spend at least one night. In Bangkok, flights to Chiang Mai are only in the morning while flights from Saigon are only in the evening. The amusing part of this is that we are trying to get back to Chiang Mai only to fly straight back to Bangkok before heading to Taiwan.
Anyhow, we're in the homestretch...one week to go before we start the 30 hour process of coming home. I am torn between wanting to come home and wanting to stay longer. Home means commitments, schedules, homework for me, massive amounts of on-the-job training for Em, but it also means our family, friends, dogs, low humidity, Autumn, peanut butter, and anything else we've missed in the last 5 weeks. I'm also hoping to regain my pasty skin tone before the holidays, as I am quite tan now.
Administration Fee 16.00USD
Airport Tax 28.00USD
Fuel Surcharge 56.00USD
Insurance Surcharge 3.00USD
Total: 103.00USD
Checked Baggage Handling Fee 6.00USD (for 3 bags).
Funny about that last one...American airlines are charging a lot more than $2USD for a checked bag. Pfft. When we flew from Vientiane, Laos to Ha Noi, Vietnam, our 70 minute flight included a full meal, something you couldn't get on a regular 3-hour flight from say, Seattle to Denver. Our long flight from Seattle to Taiwan came with 3 meals, free headphones, and a full list of movies, music albums, pillows and blankets.
So the plans for the remaining portion of our trip are starting to solidify. Em has one more day of diving, then we're hopefully hopping aboard a night bus to Saigon. We have to book that tonight (reminder hint). So Saigon ETA is September 16th. We'll spend a few days checking out the museums including the Museum of War Crimes, now renamed the War Remnants Museum. Oy, "museum" is starting to look like a funny word, so I should move to another subject. I hope to get the rest of my shopping done as well.
We fly to Bangkok on the 19th, where we have to spend at least one night. In Bangkok, flights to Chiang Mai are only in the morning while flights from Saigon are only in the evening. The amusing part of this is that we are trying to get back to Chiang Mai only to fly straight back to Bangkok before heading to Taiwan.
Anyhow, we're in the homestretch...one week to go before we start the 30 hour process of coming home. I am torn between wanting to come home and wanting to stay longer. Home means commitments, schedules, homework for me, massive amounts of on-the-job training for Em, but it also means our family, friends, dogs, low humidity, Autumn, peanut butter, and anything else we've missed in the last 5 weeks. I'm also hoping to regain my pasty skin tone before the holidays, as I am quite tan now.
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