Vietnam May 2011

10 June 2011

 Well, we are back from two weeks in Asia and the friendly bug that hitched a ride home in my gut has at last said a sad goodbye. I've managed to reduce over 4,000 photos (I'm a very prolific but not particularly adept photographer) to a mere 991 and I'm ready to immortalize our journey in this blog. 

The Mekong Delta:

We flew into Bangkok, Thailand, changed planes in Ho Chi Minh City (HCM City on the map), flew into Danang, Vietnam and were met by a car which took us to Hoi An. There Greg dutifully attended every one of the sessions at the Nanotribiology (don't ask) Conference while I hung out by the pool. We spent several hours in Hanoi en route to Luang Prabang in Laos, followed by two days in Bangkok and then home.

Most airports have a bland sameness ... but not Bangkok! 

Mekong River and yup! That's a prop!

To the majority of Americans Greg's age and to a generation of Vietnamese and Laotians, the Mekong Delta will be forever associated with the Vietnam War. This led to some trepidition on our part as to how we, as Americans, would be received. We needn't have worried. In describing the people of the Mekong Delta, the first word that comes to mind is gentle, almost shy. The second is friendly. A greeting is met with a quick smile that betokens genuine friendliness.

For me and many of my fellow Americans and Canadians, there is an awkwardness in introductions and greetings.  Hands that aren't sure of their reception are shoved into pockets and an overwide smile makes a feeble attempt to bridge the gap between greeter and greetee. The Swiss, being Swiss, have rules in place: a handshake or three air kisses, although it is often hard to know which to use.  In Thailand, the former Siam, the hands are clasped together as if in prayer and tucked under the chin along with a low bow to indicate hello, goodbye or thank you. In Laos, the bow is not as low and in Vietnam, it's a short bow of the head. It's good to have set procedures for greetings!

Hoi An is a Unesco World Heritage site and so has a high cute factor. We stayed just outside of town at the River Beach Resort, a $2.00 (or 41,000 Vietnamese dong) taxi cab ride into the old town.

Our room was in the wing on the left - third floor about four rooms over with an awesome view of the river.

Let me stop here to say something about dong.  You would think that a bunch of people, all eminent scientists (except me) would be above making crude jokes about money that is called dong. Well, you would be wrong.  Since the two nearest ATM machines were frequently broken (one fatally), there was a constant scrabbling among our changing groups for enough dong to get us through one more night on the town. Commonly heard exchanges: "I need more dong", "I have no dong" and "Have you lost your dong? Here, have some of mine." Pathetic (but somehow hysterical at the time.)

We were - briefly - millionaires.
1 million dong is about $49 US

Breakfast and lunch were supplied by the hotel, paid for by the Nanotribiology Committee. At first, I felt reluctant to join in as I wasn't officially there but I was made to feel eminently welcome and so tucked in.  Toward the end of the week, I did meet a couple of other wife "groupies" but I was perfectly content to spend those few days blissfully alone. Vietnam, as everywhere we went, was a sweatbath: weather so hot and humid, you stepped outside your air conditioned room and were immediately sticky and gnarly, fervently hoping your antipersperant was as good as the ads promised. So I early established a routine of reading on our balcony overlooking the Mekong River and submersing myself in the pool as needed. One of the conference attendees heartily remarked every time he saw me (which was all too frequently), "Are you still in there? You're going to turn into a prune!" I might have pushed him in if I could only have worked up enough energy to get out of the pool.

This is a view over the shallow pool towards the river. I'm in the larger, attached pool. Hmmmmm. Nice.

view from our balcony

There was always something going on on the river.

A rare motor powered boat. Most of the small fishing boats were poled or paddled.

Twice, I took a cab into Hoi An and shopped for bargains: $5.00 silk scarves and handmade silk ties. Many of the group took advantage of the high quality, inexpensive hand tailoring but I didn't, knowing that soon I would be devoting myself to shedding my weight like a snake sheds its old skin. (We'll see about that as this old skin has been waiting to shed for a decade or two.)  I want to point out that, alone or in a group, I never once felt threatened anywhere we went: frequently implored to buy stuff but never any feeling of risk.

making lanterns

street food

elementary school

I meandered down a side street and discovered a "sweat shop" (literally) where some of that handmade tailoring is done.

Transformer Asian style

In all the areas we visited, there were WAY more scooters than there were cars... and people used them just as they would the family car.

Bicycles are also a family car substitute. Look at those pineapples - so delicious! I really miss all the exotic fruits we had in Asia: so delicious and just at the perfect stage of ripeness. Yum!

Japanese Bridge between the old town of Hoi An and the Unesco World Heritage part. I actually preferred the Old Town side - more happening there.

Many Asian cultures paint eyes on the bows of their boats to ward off evil spirits.

The old lady on the left wanted me to take her picture but the Toothless One on the right wanted to be in it as well (for cash). The old lady gave her a drop dead look and it took me a while to get rid of her.

She looks so lost - just like my mother who has dementia. But my mom's in a retirement/nursing home where she is well looked after by the staff and my Canadian cousins. This lady sells rice on the streets, bearing the weight of the heavy load on her shoulders. I gave her five bucks and hoped the Toothless One didn't bully it from her.
The average annual wage in Vietnam is about $1000 but I think that's more for jobs in the city. In rural areas, it's much lower.

On one of my forays into Hoi An, I found a handicrafts village. There, I got a fascinating introduction to the silk industry.

live silkworms

spinning the silk

Silkworm cacoons. The one on the right has hatched. To make silk, they first boil the cacoons to kill the worm and make pulling the threads easier.

My guide showed me how they pull the thread from the cacoon. One cacoon yields a single thread 300 - 900 meters (1000 - 3000 feet) long. It takes 600 cacoons to make 1 silk tie.
So, son-in-law, 4800 silkworms gave up their lives for the 8 ties I bought you, seven of which you will no doubt give to Goodwill when I'm not looking.

In the evening, various groupings of people would hail a cab into Hoi An for dinner or walk to a local restaurant.

On Wednesday afternoon, the sessions ceased to allow for an afternoon at My Son (pronounced Me Sun), another Unesco Heritage site (there seem to be quite a few of them - I'm considering having our house in Florida nominated in the hopes it will increase its value). My Son is a cluster of ancient Hindu ruins (4th to 14th century AD). Unfortunately, it was heavily bombed by the US during the Vietnam War and now only 20 of the 70 original temples remain. The biggest mystery is how they managed to get the red bricks to stick together with no mortar.  So much for our advanced technology!

They gave us hats on the bus (Greg found they make great frisbees. Sigh.) The old white shirted peasant dude trailing the group is my husband.

It was awesome being at the site surrounded by well read, extensively travelled professionals discussing the ruins in a babbel of languages. Of course, the same people were grinning idiotically as they posed with gigantic dongs and headless gods.

Touching this dong with one finger supposedly gives men great power. In your dreams, honey! I wonder which tour guide came up with that one?

Note serious scientist in rear.

The Nanotribiology Conference was organized by Nic Spencer, an ETH professor with whom Greg works, and Nic's wonderfully able admin Josephine Baer. Kudos to both!

After six days in Hoi An, seven of us flew to Luang Prabang via Hanoi. Nic and Sanjay were both well familiar wih Hanoi and so we wandered around downtown for a while between planes. 

Greg, me, Joan, Irwin, Sanjay, Juliette, Nic

outside cafe

A few of us sat at a table by the road for some refreshment. A man came along, his bicycle loaded with baskets. I took his photo and then felt obligated to buy something. (My daughter, the Barter Queen, is heaving a sigh of frustration as she reads this.) However, I, being a damn good barterer myself (ha!), cunningly haggled a set of five baskets for less than $3.00. Proudly returning to the table, I noticed a look of extreme exasperation on my beloved's face. Turns out I had mixed up the monetary conversion and paid fifteen dollars for my loot. The owner of the cafe was standing in the doorway while all this was going on. She asked to borrow the baskets and then held them up, yelling to her workers in back. They all had quite a chuckle. I was feeling quite low - especially knowing what Katie would say when her father told her - as he surely would - the story. My new friend Joan came to my rescue and pointed out that I had probably helped feed the man's family for a week. So there!

Small altars are found all over in Asia - in houses, outside of houses and everywhere else. I was trying to figure out why this one had a pack of cigarettes by it - do the gods smoke? Then our waiter came along and, lighting one of the cigarettes, stuck it upright in the sand in front of the altar. I guess they do.

Fun over, we headed back to the airport. Our Vietnam adventure was over, our Luang Prabang about to begin.