Settling into Chiang Mai

This may be my last post to you from the road. What?! It’s a little hard for me to wrap my mind around, frankly. How it is possible that a month ago I’d never left the continent and now I’m in the tail end of a five week foray into Southeast Asia? I did not wade gently into this whole travel-the-world thing, that’s for sure. 

However, the last ten days have been gentler than before, and it’s been an absolute dream. Mom and I began this trip full speed. We didn’t spend longer than three or four days in a place before jetting off to a new city and by early February we were starting to feel the effects of being in constant motion. We had originally planned to travel through Cambodia before ending in Bangkok just in time for our flight home, but when we couldn’t get a bus from Dalat to Ho Chi Minh City (thanks to the Vietnamese Lunar New Year), we were forced to reevaluate. That’s when we decided to spend the second half of our travels in Chiang Mai, taking it a little slower. Giving ourselves space to breathe, to settle into a rhythm, and to get to know a place in a way we hadn’t before.

How nice it is to breathe.

Some things Mom and I have done while breathing:

Museums. We’re a museum-loving duo, and Chiang Mai gives us our fix in the form of several history institutions and one terrific contemporary art museum. A particular highlight was the Highland People Discovery Museum, where we learned about the practices and lifestyles of the many hill tribes that surround Chiang Mai. It was fascinating to learn a little more about the past lives of this city we’re temporarily calling home. Plus, the Lanna Folklife Museum had a collection of Buddha statues beautiful enough they had Mom and me planning a heist. 

Mom looking cool and literate outside the Lanna Folklife Museum.

We also, as mentioned above, paid a visit to the new MAIIAM Contemporary Art Museum in San Kamphaeng, a neighborhood a decent drive outside of downtown Chiang Mai. It’s a small museum, most of the art is whatever main exhibit is on display as the permanent collection isn’t large, but it’s well worth the trek. Currently on view is Diaspora: Exit, Exile, Exodus of Southeast Asia, a powerfully moving reflection on immigration and other border-related issues in the region, specifically in the last thirty years or so. The art was fantastic and heart-wrenching and it was really wonderful to see works from Thai artists.

Plus, the front outside wall of the building is pretty awesome on its own.

I have heard your requests for more pictures of the two of us and I am attempting to respond.

Eat. It will come as no surprise that delicious Thai food is plentiful here, so it follows th at Mom and I have been munching our way through Chiang Mai. I won’t overwhelm you with too many plate photos but we did have one meal that was entirely picture worthy. Here’s a shot of our appetizers, each one exquisitely hand-shaped. Those flowers are food!

Walk. When we’re not eating, looking at art, or sitting in a cafe sipping smoothies, we’re walking the city. It’s a fairly easy place to get around if you’re not looking to leave the city center (if you are, forget it. You wanna hike or visit the famous Doi Suthep but you don’t ride a motorcycle? Good luck) and we’ve spent many an hour wandering the laneways. 

Overall, our time here so far as been nothing short of lovely. No, we’re not ending up in hotel rooms we barely fit in or losing our debit cards or spending seventeen consecutive hours on public transportation, but that’s okay. That’s more than okay. The time came for some well-earned R&R and I’m soaking up every minute. As a friend of Mom’s described it, Chiang Mai is our savasana. 

So, there you go. A little glimpse into our final weeks abroad. I may check in for one last chat before heading home, but no promises. However, I would like to use this space to post some more resource-oriented posts and I think this site (although not this URL) may continue to be a place for blog posts for my future travels, so don’t un-bookmark it quite yet. Regardless, thank you so much for following along. I’ve loved reporting from the road and I look forward to many more chances to do so.

In love and adventure,

E

A Lot in Dalat

Ah, Dalat. What a way to end Vietnam. 

Dalat, the city of eternal springtime, brought some brief storms for Mom and me. When we first arrived, we got off at a bus stop about a forty-five minute walk from our hostel (with a private room, of course. We’re backpacking, but on our terms). That in itself wasn’t terrific, as our bags get pretty heavy after about twenty minutes. On top of that, though, the trek was uphill and, for a city renowned for its constant temperateness, it was hot. Thankfully, it was a beautiful journey past French colonial architecture and down cobbled sidewalks, but by the time we found our accommodation, we were more than ready to check in. We’d just spent the last eighteen hours on public transportation and, speaking for myself at least, were sorely in need of a shower and a nap. 

Unfortunately, the Universe had a different plan for us.

When we arrived, the host politely informed us that we did not have a room. Um, excuse me? This was more than a little confusing as we had not only reserved the space, we’d paid well in advance. We had the receipts to prove it. But no, they insisted, we didn’t have a room. The conversation continued in broken English (theirs, not ours) for about 20 more minutes to no avail. In the end we were roomless and even more exhausted.

We left, unsurprisingly, in a bit of a huff and while I refrained from shouting, I did take more than my fair share of the candy they’d set out for guests. 

So, not exactly the brilliant start we’d hoped for. But we managed to find a hotel for that night (a miracle, since most everywhere was booked to the brim as a result of Tet, the Lunar New Year) and a homestay for the next three. And we ended our first night with the most amazing fried quail egg things that we gobbled up too quickly for photos. We were optimistic that the homestay would prove a little easier to navigate and the next few days would be filled with flowers and relaxation.

 Ah, the fickle hand of fate. Turns out, the room we’d booked was another forty-five minute shlep uphill in the intense heat and when we arrived, we entered a room that was, uh, not exactly the cleanest. Plus, we didn’t have our own bathroom. Great.

But things were about to take a turn for the better. Maybe even for the best. We decided to walk to a well-reviewed restaurant for lunch, one of our first non-street food meals of the trip. The atmosphere was lovely and the food was good, but what happened next may have been one of my top highlights of our entire trip.

Dessert.

And not just any dessert, the best freaking thing I’ve maybe ever had. I looked over to my mom and I’m pretty sure the look I saw was a woman having a life-altering epiphany in the form of toasted sesame chocolate-filled dough ball things. Words cannot do justice. 

I know it doesn’t look like much. I promise it was insane.

And while the rest of our time in Dalat did not measure up to that incredible dish, we had a plethora of other highlights.

We visited the Crazy House, which is an architectural wonder that was nearly impossible to capture on camera (sorry. Google it). 

We walked around the main lake which wasn’t the most amazing thing ever, but pretty.

We saw a very photogenic church and I made my mom take a lot of pictures of me. 

We did have other downs, though, too. Our homestay? Apparently, a wildly popular stop for Israeli backpackers, which meant that at any given moment there was what felt like the entire young adult population of Israel hanging out about twenty feet from our front-of-house and (very) thinly-walled room. They were loud, stayed up late, and clearly did not think highly of non-Israelis. Luckily, the host family was great and made us delicious dinners every night. A welcome relief from having to find every meal on our own. 

In the end, Dalat proved to be a pleasant leg of our trip and we finished out our journey in what was simply the best airport I’ve ever flown in or out of in my entire life. It was so clean and light and the entire process from check-in to take-off felt like, as my mom put it, a ballet. It went that smoothly.

So, as we flew out of Vietnam, ready to end our trip with a much longer stay in Chiang Mai, we did so on a great note. Overall, I’m so thankful for these last two weeks in this country and I can’t wait to tell you all about Northern Thailand. 

In love and adventure,

E

Three Cities For the Price of One: A Week in Central Vietnam

In the week since the last update to this blog, my mom and I have found ourselves in Da Nang, Hoi An, Nha Trang (extremely briefly), and now Dalat. Four (okay, really three) cities in about eight days. And boy, if that wasn’t enough, the world has thrown some interesting moments our way. But that’s what travel is about, isn’t it? As much as what you see and do, it’s about how you respond to the times when things don’t go the way you intended.

Here’s what we’ve been up to.

Da Nang

Da Nang isn’t the most interesting place we found ourselves in, but it has charm. A quaint beach-side city, Da Nang has three things going for it. 

First up is, of course, the ocean. All reports say that Da Nang has one of the most beautiful beaches in the country and although my mom and I haven’t been to many other sections of the Vietnam coast, I’m inclined to agree. Our hotel was a short five minute walk to the surf and standing at its edge, you’re met with clean sands, glistening waves, and waving palm trees. And if that wasn’t gorgeous enough, off to the left, perched on the mountains that curve into the water to form Da Nang’s bay, you can make out the gleaming white silhouette of the Lady Buddha. Towering over the city at two hundred and twenty feet, the tallest Buddha statue in all of Vietnam can be seen from just about anywhere in the city. So yeah, pretty beautiful.

Can you see the Buddha? I promise it’s bigger in real life.

The second mark in Da Nang’s favor is the food. Two of my favorite meals we’ve had on this trip we had in Da Nang, but I’ll admit that that list of favorites is incredibly long. Would I recommend a trip to this city just for the eats? No, no more than anywhere else. But if you happen to find yourself here, you won’t go hungry. 

We had one particularly great street food experience that started out less than ideal (think long, dark road and a Google Maps route that one hundred percent did not lead to the right location) but turned out to be one of the best noodle soups we’ve had, a seafood stew sort of dish that blew our minds, and delicious coffee in a cafe that can only be described as Communist chic. 

Finally, there are number of day trips out of Da Nang that win praise from far and wide. My mom and I made it to one such location, the Marble Mountains, and were met with exquisite caves, pagodas, and statues. It was a lovely morning.

Hoi An

After Da Nang (and, actually, before it, but I’ll get to that in a minute), Mom and I spent a few days in Hoi An. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Hoi An is a UNESCO site, an ancient town persevered for the modern tourist, and that’s what it feels like. Although pretty to look at and nice to walk through, there was about four times as many Westerners here than anywhere else we’d been and prices were raised to match. It felt staged, sort of. As my mom put it, the Carmel-By-the-Sea of Vietnam. I could see it, with a few more Mickey Mouse ears and small children, as a section of Epcot. It was...nice.

 

An offering for Tet, the Lunar New Year

Adding insult to injury, my mom unfortunately got a little sick one of the days and after a brief stint on the beach, we spent most of the day in our slightly musty hotel room. However, there were some highlights: 

In order to get to Hoi An, we took a forty-five minute bus ride that felt like being a living piece in a Tetris game. Throughout the ride - but especially at stops - a worker on the bus gestured and barked orders in Vietnamese in order to shuffle people and boxes around the vehicle, trying to fit everything in an impossibly small space. It was wild. 

Jam packed

I had my first ever motorbike ride, which was thrilling.

Mom and I found not one but two great cafes, the first being a cute little coffee shop hidden away down an alley and the second a social enterprise tea house that employs deaf and otherwise disabled people and serves fantastic tea (in near complete silence, I might add, which was almost as wonderful as the drinks). 

And finally, on our last morning in Hoi An, we got our debit card gobbled up by an ATM machine and, since it was midnight in Asheville, were unable to reach anyone who might be able to help (read: my dad) until much later in the day. Now, admittedly, this was far from a highlight at the time, and I’m still not over the moon it happened. The good part, though, was what it taught me. Over the course of this trip I have learned so many valuable lessons about patience, problem solving, and trusting my gut. The best part is I know what I’ll ultimately take away from this adventure has only begun to settle and make itself clear, and I am valuing this mishap as one more piece of all that these five weeks are teaching me. 

Da Nang (again) and Nha Trang

In order to make it to our final stop in Vietnam (Dalat), Mom and I had to catch a bus back to Da Nang from Hoi An, an overnight train from Da Nang to Nha Trang, and finally a bus from Nha Trang to Dalat. Since we spent so much time on public transportation, I don’t have a ton to report from these last couple of places. There were a couple issues with buses not running (thanks, Lunar New Year) and missing stations, but overall pretty easy. I am also happy to report that our train ride went much smoother than the first overnight bus and although the sleeping wasn’t great, it was a positive experience overall. And it was my first train ride! 

Amazingly, the bus was even better. It was a three hour ride from Nha Trang to Dalat and once we found the bus station (turns out the address on Google is completely inaccurate, which led to several minutes of confused frustration), it was smooth sailing. And it was breathtaking. My iPhone camera could never even hope to capture the scenes we drove through. Three hours of winding mountain passes overlooking emerald green valleys, shimmering creeks, and blue skies. I would go back to Nha Trang and immediately turn around just to get to ride that bus twice more. 

My iPhone performed wholly inadequately when trying to photograph this.

And now we’re here, in Dalat. This is our final city in Vietnam before we fly up to Northern Thailand, and only two and a half days in and it’s already been quite a time. Check back in a couple days for all that! Until then, thanks for sticking around.

In love and adventure,

E

The Not-So-Nice Night Bus

When we booked our overnight bus ticket from Hanoi to Da Nang, there was a small part of me that was hoping we’d be riding the Catbus from Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro. A fun, easy ride, something comfortable for the twelve-hour journey ahead and maybe something a little magic.

The Catbus from My Neighbor Totoro, a gem of a film.

We did not ride the Catbus.

Moreover, I do not think the Catbus would ever even step a paw in the bus station we found ourselves at. When we arrived, it was already dark, a level of disorientation my mom and I did not need. We would have been confused enough in the daylight: the station was massive, nothing was in English, and any sort of helpful arrow-based signage was nonexistent. Suffice to say, we had absolutely no idea where to go. 

Intrepid adventurers as we are, though, we decided to push through. We entered the crowded main building, a multi-level affair devoid of any decor beyond rows of ticket booths lining the walls. Travelers surrounded by baggage covered the floor, huddling together in the dim light in a way that reminded me of old photographs I’ve seen of 1880s Ellis Island. As we waded through families sitting on cardboard boxes and suitcases, Mom and I scanned the booths for the name of our bus company. I’d only received a receipt from the booking website, not the e-tickets like promised, and we needed to find a way to ensure we wouldn’t be turned away at the bus’s door. Finally, at the very end of one room, we saw it. The man at the counter, thankfully, accepted the email on my phone as proof enough of purchase and handed us our tickets, but did not, unthankfully, speak any English. When we asked where to go, he pointed to a string of numbers and letters stamped on our tickets and gestured out the window. Mom and I turned to see...a parking lot. A huge parking lot, filled with buses. Filled with buses with, again, no signage. Nothing. Just endless rows of buses. Well, we had nowhere else to go, so we set out.

Eventually, we found what we thought was our bus, or at least where it was supposed to be. The bus in its spot was boarding, but it was the right company and when we showed our tickets to the men loading the current vehicle, they nodded and seemed to tell us to stay where we were. So we did. We sat in small chairs and waited as one, two, three buses loaded up and pulled away. Surely our bus would get here soon.

But nothing came to replace them, and it was starting to get dangerously close to our departure time. Something seemed wrong, but no one spoke any English. In fact, we seemed to be the only Westerners in the entire place. At about T-twenty minutes, Mom decided to take a quick walk to the last corner of the parking lot we hadn’t made it to yet. We turned a corner but found only a darkened section with only a couple of buses. It was as we went to leave, disheartened, when I saw it! The name of our company printed across one bus at the end of the row. There it was. The string of numbers and letters on our ticket - which we had by now figured out was the license plate - matched the bus. We had found it! And it was loading. We got on the bus and were guided to the back. Here, there were no spaces between the sleeper seats and we lay uncomfortably close to the travelers next to us. Plus, there was no bathroom, which was mildly concerning. But the beds themselves were fine, we knew there would be rest stops, and we lay back, ready to get to Da Nang. 

The drive itself was, in one word, harrowing. Traffic laws in Vietnam are...interesting. Aka nonexistent. Frequently, our driver would duck between trucks on narrow, cliff-side roads, blaring his horn and trying to squeeze a 44-bed bus through two feet of space. But Mom and I were exhausted and, thank goodness, managed to sleep through much of the ride (during which, thank goodness, we did not plummet over a cliff-face). At our first rest stop, we got out and instead of a bathroom, saw a row of Vietnamese men peeing into the bushes.

Um. 

This was not exactly going the way we’d expected.

At first, we resigned ourselves to a very uncomfortable ride to the next rest stop, but after a few minutes, I decided this was not going to work. I left the bus a second time and realized there was a small food spot a short walk away and I ventured out in search of a toilet. What I found was a literal hole in the ground. 

See? A glorified hole.

But I’m thanking my lucky stars I used it anyway because the next time we stopped was thirteen hours later, in Da Nang. When the bus finally pulled to a halt, Mom and I stumbled out, blinking into the early morning sunlight.

After quite the adventure, Mom and I had made it to our next destination. 

More on this beautiful place soon.

So, would I recommend a night bus to budget travelers looking to cover a long distance? I’m not sure. It was quite the local experience, that’s for sure. But I do know that for the next leg of our journey, Mom and I are taking the train.

In love and adventure,
E

A City of Surprises: Three Days in Hanoi

If Bangkok was busy, Hanoi is the physical embodiment of chaos. 

Actually, scratch that. Hanoi is chaotic, relative to Bangkok or not. While there was traffic in Bangkok, the vehicles stayed in their lane and drivers were not blind to the color of the lights. Here, there is only a mass of screeching horns and weaving motorbikes whizzing past your face at every possible moment. And they are dangerously close to your face, too - although sidewalks here are abundant and wonderfully wide, they are not for pedestrians. Motorcycles are, more often than not, parked across them in entirety, blocking any hope of using them as one might suppose they were intended. So as a walker you must dance cautiously between parked cars and zigzagging bikes as you maneuver down the pavement. And if you happen to have to turn? Good luck. Crossing the street is a near-death experience every single time. 

Mom and I arrived here late in the evening and we were coming off of a hectic and stressful day of travel when we got to our hotel, only to find it was the size of a walk-in closet and, um, dingy. I’ll put it this way: the shower? Effectively a hose in the middle of the bathroom. The one time I used it, the entire bathroom was covered in water. The toilet? I couldn’t sit on it the right way because my knees didn’t fit between the seat and the wall. We ventured half a block out for dinner and almost got run over probably between ten and fifteen times. We were exhausted, it was dark, it was loud, and over our steaming bowls of pho, we started looking for bus tickets to get the heck out of here. 

But, instead, we resolved to find a new hotel room in the morning and give it a day. One chance. If we hated it as much as we thought we would, we’d leave and seek out the quieter Hai Phong, a port city a couple hours away. Sitting on a bed that took up three-quarters of our room, the idea of a beach sounded almost too good to be true. But one day. We would give it that.

And boy am I glad we did.

On the flight from Bangkok to Hanoi, my mom and I sat next to a boy who had lived in this Northern Vietnamese city his whole life. When we asked him, tentatively hopeful, if we were headed for somewhere quieter than the Thai capital we’d left, he laughed. “The horns, the construction work, the noise? That’s a distraction in Bangkok. But in Hanoi? That’s peaceful.” My mom and I could hardly believe it but oh, how right he’d prove to be. Once you get over the sheer volume of the city, once you master crossing the street without being plowed into, once the newness and craze begins to feel a little less overwhelming, you start to hear something. The cars still honk, sure, and the endless rush of movement is still there, but you begin to listen better. After a little while here, I can now make out the song of Hanoi. It’s made of the honking and the shouting and it’s beautiful. 

During the three days we’ve been here, Mom and I have discovered a city intoxicating enough to make me seriously imagine, as we wandered through a beautiful park and drank in the soft sunlight, living here. 

We’ve eaten pho so good I almost cried.

We’ve navigated the streets of the Old Quarter (where we’re staying), a world of juxtaposition where flower stalls spill breathtaking colors onto mud-splashed concrete. 

We’ve had egg coffee - a dish that conjures images of scrambled eggs sitting in cold brew but is, in reality, a liquid tiramisu dream. 

We’ve visited a prison nicknamed after a hotel and seen recollections of unimaginable pain and oppression (and the oddity that is blatant propaganda), as well as stepped foot into Vietnam’s premier fine arts museum and taken a journey through the magnificent thousand year history that is artistic creation in this country. 

We’ve found tranquility twice in the incredibly aptly-named Tranquil. Books and Coffee, a refuge of a coffee shop in the island neighborhood of Truc Bach.

We’ve had a pork rice noodle soup thing so good I almost cried again in a tiny hole-in-the-wall where we were the only Westerners and an old woman and her young granddaughter look confused but smiled when we walked in. 

And, finally, we’ve crossed the street. Many times. And not only have we lived to tell the tale, I think we’re getting pretty dang good at it.

We’re leaving in a few hours for the central coastal city of Da Nang where I look forward to beaches and day trips to places where entire towns are UNESCO World Heritage sites, but a part of me is sad to go. This is not the city I was expecting, true. It was so much better.

So that’s all on Hanoi, for now. Check back soon for more dispatches from our life on the road!

In love and adventure,
E