I have been away from “home” for six months now. But considering the fact that I don’t have a home at the moment (in the literal sense) just makes me feel more ‘at home’ in the world. I seriously can’t believe I’ve been traveling alone for this much time, but I’ve rarely been or felt “alone.” I’ve met so many different and interesting people—other travelers, locals, tour guides, and had so many different and wonderful experiences. Just like in “real life,” I still have to remember to take time to “stop and smell the roses.” Even on this amazing journey it’s still easy to get caught up in the everyday, mundane things and little issues—‘it’s too hot, my suitcase won’t close, there are bugs in my room, blah, blah, blah.’ But then there are the sweet moments of bliss that snap me back into my reality where I just close my eyes and grin.

Yesterday my second Intrepid Travel Tour arrived in the small riverside town of Chau Doc, Vietnam, perched right on the banks of the mighty Mekong River. Tomorrow we will boat down the river and across the border into Cambodia (remember when we called it Kampuchea? The Khmers still do) and straight up the river into the capital, Phnom Penh.

Our final evening in ‘Nam, nine of us got on the backs of some local guys’ motorcycles and got a city tour for a couple of hours as the sun went down on the dusty tiny town. It was great to not be ‘pedaling’ for a change and have the wind in my hair cooling me off as the air here is heavy and hot. We zoomed up the hilltops to a mountain overlook above the town, all the while, kids still calling out ‘hello’ while I got to practice my few Vietnamese words for the very last time (at least for now).

• Xin Chao: Hello
• Chao Em: Hello (to younger kids or girls)
• Chao Anh Hello (to men)
• Chao Chee (to elder women)
• Cam Un: Thank You
• Han Gup Lai: See you Later
• Mot, Hai, Ba, YO!: One, two, three, Cheers!

At the top we had cold beers and chilled out in some hammocks strung out under a thatched roof while the red hazy sun slipped into the smog and below the horizon. This was one of those moments. It was nearly impossible to not notice how good I have it right now.

We hopped back on our motorbikes and whizzed back to town. I made my driver laugh and sing along with me as I butchered my newly learned rendition of the local anthem: “Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh…”

All the way I was laughing and grinning while I thought back on all the great times I had in this sometimes chaotic, sometimes peaceful yin and yang of a country. Han gup lai, Vietnam (See you again…).

With 8 million people in the city, and 3.5 million motorbikes, I assumed Saigon would greet me as loudly and brashly as Hanoi had. But, I actually quite liked it there. It is a bit more modern than Hanoi with taller, newer buildings and more upscale shopping centers. Plus it’s more spread out and, although it’s still bustling and buzzing with people and motorcycles, there seems to be wider, more open sidewalks and green space, allowing for a bit of a breather here and there.

I did a lot of my favorite tourist activity—random strolling around. It was sweltering hot and averaged in the 100s everyday. One of the few tourist sights I visited in Ho Chi Minh City was the War Remnants Museum. The Vietnam War (also known as the Vietnamese Revolution, the Second Indochina War and, in contemporary Vietnam, as the ‘American War’) was a military conflict in present day Vietnam occurring from 1959 to April 30, 1975. It was a successful effort by the Communist Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV or North Vietnam) led by Ho Chi Minh and the indigenous National Front for the Liberation of South Vietnam, (also known as the Việt Cộng, or more informally by the American troops as the “Charlie”, “VC” or “Cong”) to impose on Vietnam a communist system, defeating the South Vietnamese Republic of Vietnam (RVN). To a degree, the Vietnam War was a “proxy war” between the U.S. and its Western allies against the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China. Nearly 60, 000 American troops died in battle whereas approximately one million Vietnamese troops and two to four million civilians were killed. Another three million Vietnamese were affected by Agent Orange. I had just been born during the last few years of the war and honestly do not recall learning much about it in school.

Much of the museum in Saigon was dedicated to exhibits of photography showing the overall horrors and atrocities of war. Besides the military and civilian casualties, the war claimed more journalists and photographers than ever before. Well, until now. The Iraq war has since surpassed this statistic claiming the most journalists. Of course, since the museum is here in Vietnam, it’s from their perspective, but there’s no denying the enormous amounts of casualties and suffering that the Vietnamese people endured during these years. I found it quite moving. There are photos of torture, photos of the horrible aftermath of chemical warfare—Agent Orange and dioxins that were used by the Americans that caused severe health issues then and to future generations with deformations of newborns from mothers who were affected, and photos of general death and destruction.

At home in the US, a generation of Americans struggled to absorb the lessons of military intervention without clear motives or objectives. Sound familiar? Between 1965 and 1973 the United States spent $120 billion on the war in Vietnam. The war seemed to demonstrate that no power, not even a superpower, has unlimited strength and resources. But perhaps most significantly, the Vietnam War illustrated that political will, as much as material might, is a decisive factor in the outcome of conflicts.

There were also photos of demonstrations from around the world against the war including several from the US. It was good to see some recent photos of US war veterans visiting Vietnam and some speaking out on behalf of Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange. Seeing it all was quite heavy and hard to look at. Historical events like this always beg the question: How could all this death and sadness hope to bring about peace? From the Vietnam War and now to the War in Iraq, it all seems eerily similar. Perhaps many years from now I will find myself in an Iraq War Memorial museum seeing the same senseless images of war.

After a night of hilarious Karaoke with our whole group and even our truck drivers, we all descended from the Central Highlands for our final ride of the trip. It was kind of bittersweet. I remembered back before the trip started and during some of the first few rides, I was second guessing my decision to do this two week adventure as I huffed and puffed my way across the countryside. Some days the heat was utterly unbearable and the hills were too many and too steep for my legs and lungs. Our final day we rode about 60 kilometers down through the lush green mountainsides of coffee and tea crops. The first part was my favorite—all downhill and super fast. The last 30 kilometers or so was what our guide called “undulating” which meant some up hills and some downhills. It would be ‘same same, but different.’ This is a popular phrase in Vietnam. It basically means ‘similar’ and you hear it all the time. There are even t-shirts here printed with the phrase.

I let most of the group pass me and got into my own rhythm and loved it, hills and all. I was finally hitting my stride and it was our last day. Or maybe psychologically, I knew it was our last day so it was just easier. But ‘same same’ as on previous days, just when I would start to wither from exhaustion and heat with sweat pouring into and stinging my eyes, local kids would be smiling and waving at me as I rode past, just in time to take my mind off any exhaustion I was feeling. Now, I welcomed the dust in my face, horrible exhaust fumes up my nose, and horns honking in my ears. It was all a part of this amazing country—alive, growing and vibrant. I had trouble not smiling most of the time that I was riding a problem because of bugs flying into my mouth. Nearly all the people we met along the journey were extremely poor, but extremely happy and friendly. As I’ve said before, most tours are good or bad depending on the people. And this one proved that once again. Not only were most of the girls fun and friendly, it was the truck driver, our bus driver, Loi, our wonderful leader, Phuc, and the people of Vietnam that made it special. They all made the trip so good for us and we were all in it together. We rode together, we drank together, ate together, took mud baths together, and sang together.

Mot, Hai, Ba….Yooooo! (One, Two, Three, Cheers!!!)

During my two week cycle trip not only did I improve my cycling skills and stamina, I also began to master the art of peeing outdoors (enjoy that image) and using the infamous Asian “squat toilets.” Some of these are in a stall just like at home except instead of a toilet bowl, there is just a hole and porcelain bowl shape in the floor. So like the name says you have to squat over it. Of course, I had to do this while balancing as to not touch anything around me plus keep my shorts out of the line of fire and avoid getting any splatter on my shoes or ankles. It actually wasn’t so bad as long as you brought toilet paper in with you and also tried to hold your breath because the rank, stale smell of urine was a bit unpleasant (that’s an understatement). The even more basic ‘latrines’ we’d come across consisted of a tile trough in the floor with raised blocks for your feet. There were literally pairs of blocks in a row where several bladder-full women could squat together and have a lovely little pee. Of course, when we came upon this we went one at a time. Not only is it unpleasant getting splattered with your ‘own,’ you certainly don’t want someone else’s getting on you!

It’s very common in Vietnam and other parts of Asia for people to just pull alongside the road and have a little bathroom break. Men usually just turn their backs to the street, while the women do usually go behind a tree or bush. The Intrepid tour leaders called these “happy trees, happy bush, or happy rock.” Once we stopped on a coffee plantation—in which it was “happy coffee bush.” Coffee trees were good because they are a bit taller and good for a little private moment. I much preferred the ‘happy tree’ to the squat toilet—at least you could breathe in the fresh air and the bottoms of your shoes weren’t standing is urine. You can go take a bathroom now if you need to.

Also during the tour we had some varied and interesting types of accommodations. Mostly along the way we stayed in quite nice two and three star hotels. A few had pools and lush gardens and were quite comfortable. One night we slept in what they call ‘soft sleepers’ on an overnight train. We had four bunks in one train car. This wasn’t too bad either—except for me being a light sleeper so I didn’t get much rest as we rocked back and forth down the tracks through the Vietnam countryside and over the former DMZ (demillatirized zone) that split North and South Vietnam during the war. As some of us walked the length of the train to find the bar car and get a drink we realized that much of the train carried Vietnamese folks traveling to and fro. Many didn’t upgrade to a sleeper and were just lounging about in the regular seat cars. Although one woman had brought her floor mat and was sprawled out on the floor by her seat.

For a nice bit of our bike journey we got ‘off the beaten path’ and went up into the Central Highlands to a few smaller towns up in the mountains. Just a few years ago there were some uprisings in these areas and tourists were actually forbidden to go there. It seems some foreigners were convincing some of the locals to be anti-communist—something the government obviously doesn’t like. But there have been no problems in recent years. Vietnam’s economy is growing, but much of the country is still very poor. In fact, the average Vietnamese person only makes $300 US Dollars a year…yes, I said ‘a year.’ Here they are trying to create jobs any way they can. At many toll booths we drove through there was one man to purchase the ticket from, then our bus would drive to a few feet to another booth where a man would rip our ticket, and finally we would drive through the toll gate where a third guy would let us through.

In Kon Tum, we slept at the Dakbla Hotel, a government run establishment. Like a lot of Communist buildings, it looked like something out of the fifties. Even the room interiors looked as if they hadn’t been redone since 1962. I jokingly asked the other girls if they noticed all the spy cameras in our rooms.

In our second mountain town, Buon Ma Thuot, we did a ‘homestay.’ We all slept on mosquito net covered mattresses on the floor of a stilt house belonging to a family hill tribe people. The houses were originally built on stilts in some areas to avoid flooding and here to avoid unwelcome animal guests. Of course now under most houses were each family’s dinners: pigs, roosters, and dogs milled about. Up in these mountain towns there are some ethnic minority villages where people who speak a different dialect and dress in more traditional clothing. This night it felt like we were in a cabin for sleep away camp. We had dinner on the floor on mats and then partook in the local drink—straw wine. Suffice it to say, we all had a lot of fun…and then it got a bit crazy. Loi, the bus driver, pulled out some crazy vibrating device that he literally strapped to the back of his hand and proceeded to give all the sore and tired girls neck and shoulder massages! It looked like something he’d made in his home garage out of spare parts. The whole scene of drunk girls sucking down wine with straws getting massages probably looked a bit crazy and naughty, but it sure felt good and was all innocent fun…although Loi may have been having his own fantasies. But we didn’t care—a girl loves a good massage! We were all a bit tipsy and ended up laughing and have sing-alongs until the wee hours. Pretty fun, but probably not exactly the true traditional hill tribe experience.

After a few nights ‘roughing’ it, we cycled back down from the mountains into the touristy beach town of Nha Trang. This is Vietnam’s top spot for sun and sand and I imagine in ten years from now, much of the coast will be inching its way toward becoming another overrun tourist area. We had a fun rest in Nha Trang which started with a visit to the local hot springs and mud baths. When we first arrived, a man with a pointer stood by a big board of photos of the different pools we could go into and demonstrated the order of ‘dipping.’ It seemed like a 1950s training video and was quite funny. We opted for the shared hot pools. First it was into the outdoor showers for a quick rinse, then about six of us sat down in small hot tubs that were then pumped full of smelly, oozy, chocolate milk looking mud. There were buckets that you could fill with the brown stuff and pour over your back…of course we took advantage of this to dump loads of mud onto each other’s heads. It was quite fun actually. Next we rinsed off the mud—it got in places I didn’t even know existed, well, I guess I knew they existed, but have never had to rinse mud out of them—and went through a series of water sprays and waterfalls. Then it was into the hot pools for a bit of a soak. Good stuff.

The next day, was unfortunately the coolest and rainiest we’d had in awhile. We went out into the water for a boat ride along the bay and an afternoon for relaxing and sun-worshipping. We enjoyed a tasty seafood spread on the boat and relaxed on lounge chairs under thatched roofs all afternoon. The best part? Little Vietnamese ladies were going around giving manicures, pedicures and massages right at your chair. I pampered myself with a lovely head, neck, and back massage and a pedicure—all for the cost of $5! I could get used to this.

Before biking down south towards Saigon, we made one more dash up to the mountains and the fabulous town of Dalat. This was one of my favorite cities on the journey. It felt almost like a ski resort town

We stayed in an old French Villa type hotel—which was really quaint and quiet and set back atop a hill. We cycled through town for a tour and then had some free time just to wander around. We played some badminton in the front yard and after nearly two weeks together really felt kind of like a family.

That night, after another great and cheap dinner, the whole gang (including the truck drivers) went out to Karaoke! It was one of the places where you get your own room. We piled into a smoky, stale room with big black leather couches and pored through the songbooks of half Vietnamese and half English tunes. The song selection wasn’t the greatest and was a bit dated, but we had the best time belting out songs like ABBA’s “Fernando,” the Bee Gees “How Deep is your Love,” and I even got up to do our other national anthem: “Hotel California.” By the end we were all up dancing and one of the best parts was how much fun the drivers were having dancing with all the girls. This trip was such fun, but was winding down and about to come to an end.

Our first day on our bikes, we took them for a spin to brave the chaotic traffic of Hanoi. It was pretty intense riding alongside dozens of motor bikes and cars and other bicycles. Plus the inhaling of constant exhaust fumes kinda makes you feel like you’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes by the end. We were ready to get out into the countryside and explore.

Our first day of real cycling we cycled 37 K to Cuc Phuong, Vietnam’s first National Park. Inside the park we visited the Endangered Primate Rescue Center. The center, run by German biologists and local Vietnamese, rescues and cares for primates that are often hunted and traded for eventual medicinal ingredients. There are several different species cared for here including the long-armed Gibbon, the long-tailed Langur monkey, and Lorises—smaller nocturnal primates. THey are eventually working on reintroducing them into the wild. For now they are reintroduced to a semi wild area near the park.

After a tiring first day of riding, we then did a ‘mini-trek’—up about one thousand steps in the forest…quite possibly harder than the cycling trip we are on. For our first day, this was a bit much for me. I was exhausted! Plus I would probably now have sore quads and hamstrings from all this stair climbing which wasn’t good for me considering about 13 more days of riding were ahead.

After a fun big shared dinner of fish and chicken and rice and veg outside, we slept amidst the sounds of the forest that night in the national park. It was bare minimum lodging—we were in a cabin with mosquito nets, cold showers, and electricity was only on from 6p-10p. But this wasn’t that big a deal considering we were all pooped and could hardly keep our eyes open after ten o’clock anyway.

Our third day was a rain and mudfest into the town called Hoa Lu and possibly my favorite ride of the trip. It drizzled all day and the roads were dirty so when you are going fast through puddles there was no helping the Jackson Pollack effect of mud splatter all over your body. Despite the free mud wraps (you’d pay about $100 for a spa treatment like that in Chicago), we rode about 70K through some of the most charming and tiny stonewalled villages and mysterious misty mountain towns. For lunch some of us tried a ‘hot pot’ goat soup…somewhat tasty, but a little gamey for me. After replenishing our energy we rode further into the city of Ninh Binh where good tour planning allowed us to check into day rooms at a local hotel to shower and relax with a beer on the rooftop bar before hopping on the overnight train to the town of Hue.

Hue was a charming cultural town of pagodas, temples, and a citadel. We did an easier cycle tour around the city checking out the sights. The following day we tackled a few major hills. The first one was a four kilometer uphill mountain climb. It was super hot and humid out and the salty sweat was dripping into my eyes. I stopped mid-way for a breather and some water. I was happy and proud to reach the top as this was probably the biggest hill I’d ever climbed. But it was only the beginning. After a fun beach lunch and refreshing dip in the ocean we were faced with the infamous Hai Van Pass, an eleven kilometer ten percent grade uphill climb of windy road and switchbacks. I use the term ‘we’ loosely, since I and two other gals skipped the bike ride up and caught a ride with Loi on the bus. It just didn’t look fun to me and a bit too intense for my leg muscles.

The other tough mountain bike trained girls road up the winding mountain pass road. It took them about an hour to an hour and a half. For many it wasn’t the climb, but more the heat that made if difficult. When I did my hill that took about 20 minutes for me and I felt proud of myself and called it a day. Coming from the Chicago ‘flatlands’ I have no training with hills and pretty much despise them. But I will say that after several days of riding all day, I was certainly getting better. Back at home I’ve done long rides (about 70K or 40 miles), but never this intensely or consecutively as this.

It was fun stopping along the side of the road to take photographs and cheer on the others as they climbed the mountain pass. It was like we were part of a triathalon or something. But at the top instead of being greeted by fans, we were faced with eager salesladies that I’m pretty sure managed to sell every one of us a bead bracelet or two. They know all the tactics that probably take four years of business school: they get to know their client first, asking our names and where we are from, they develop a relationship with us and then go in for the kill and then you feel too guilty to say ‘no’ since they invested all this time with you. But of course, if that doesn’t work with them, they always resort to more guilt-inducing tactics.

“Buy from me.”

“No, thank-you.”

“Please buy from me, I Talk to you, Lisa.”

“No, thank-you.

“Please, I need money for my baby.”

“OK, how much?”

“30,000 dong”

After some bartering, I’d pay about $1.20 for a bracelet. It’s so cheap and goes a long way for these ladies, it just seems silly to have even said ‘no’ in the first place. But I guess it’s all part of the game. Plus they basically follow you around until you buy something anyway.

The wonderful pay off of the pass was heading down the eleven kilometers on the other side. We hit speeds of close to 30 mph which is pretty fast on a bike and cruised down the mountain with a wonderful cooling breeze in our faces. This time I was one of the first to the bottom….love the speed.

Now, on our way to Hoi An, we cruised past the infamous China Beach where U.S. soldiers went for a little ‘R & R’ during the Vietnam War (or American War as they call it here—makes sense, I guess).

Inevitably I always ended in the back of the herd, many times because I would stop and take photos while many of the girls raced on by, but mostly because I just wasn’t as fast as them and didn’t care to try to be–that’s not why I was doing this ride. Many of these girls were on a mission to be number one. Whereas I was on a mission to just get good exercise and see the country from this unique perspective. Another thing that inevitably slowed me down were these amazingly adorable kids that we would pass on the way. As we cruised by, eager kids greeted us with excited ‘hellos’ every few yards the entire way. I’ve never seen such innocent smiles as the kids would run out of their homes and drop anything and everything just to be able see us and to shout their one English word. I’ve never heard so many “hellos” shouted at me in my entire life. Plus from all the cyclists that go this route over the years they have learned to do hand slaps. I would slow down and give them a “high five” as I whizzed by. And then you would hear their chuckles as you continued down the road to the next group of excited kids. These are mostly incredibly poor kids, that couldn’t look happier. It always made me smile to see them, even if bugs were getting in my teeth. And I did my best to wave and say hello to each one knowing it made their day.