One Giant Step…Is All It Takes

One of the things that I like reading on a travel blog are the updates people write once they get home. I think that coming home is as much a part of the journey as the planning and the traveling was and I like hearing how people adjust back into their ‘normal’ lives.

It seems to be about half and half as to whether a blog will post back-at-home updates or not. Some travel blogs don’t even make it to the end of the journey, petering out and leaving me hanging as to what’s happening. I understand, of course, that blogging while traveling can be difficult but I feel connected to these people somehow and I want to know how they are doing and so, even though I have subscribed to their RSS feeds, I continually check their sites to ensure I haven’t missed an update (I’m talking to you RunningTowards and WhereAreLizAndAdrian).

I have always planned on writing post-trip updates and, although it seems mundane to write about my normal life now, it will make me really reflect on how I’m feeling as we settle in and the trip becomes more memory than reality. I think what I’ll do is intersperse back-at-home updates with some other trip related posts that I still have in mind (gear reviews, budget wrap up etc) – that’ll be a good mix of how-is-Gillian-feeling vs end-of-the-trip tales…and Paula and Diane W can stop worrying that there won’t be any more posts.

We’ve been back in Canada for 3 weeks already and our reactions have been mixed. The first two weeks were buffered by visiting with family where we had a chance to catch up, meet new members of the family (hi Matt and Karen!), eat all our favorites (thanks Ma and Mom!), and slowly adjust to being back in North American culture.

And so we are ‘home’ now and have been for just over a week. It’s not really ‘home’ though as we are in a furnished apartment and are, once again, surrounded by stuff that’s not ours and are fumbling around much like we have for the past year. The neighborhood is familiar though and we have wandered around checking out what’s new and different and what is the same…and that’s where it starts to get weird.

There is nobody around. We are in a supremely walkable neighborhood with wide sidewalks, grassy boulevards, and close by amenities and yet the streets are devoid of people. I didn’t realize how much I had gotten used to being around people all the time. Almost everywhere we’ve been people live very public lives – the climate allows them to be outside all the time, the living density means that everything is out in the open, markets and shops are on or open to the street…even driving is public in many places as everyone is on a scooter and not encased in a metal casing. Granted the weather here has not been the best since we returned but that does not entirely explain the dearth of people – we just don’t live like that here and I’m going to have to get used to it again.

I expected that as soon as we got home again that I’d be all over nesting and being ‘homey’ but I seem to be fighting it. We only had about 7 boxes to unpack and it took us four days to do it – I didn’t even unpack my backpack until yesterday. I am a natural procrastinator but I don’t know why I’m being so resistant. I was excited to be coming home and was looking forward to staying in one place for more than 2 or 3 nights in a row but now I feel disconnected, frustrated and unfocused for some reason.

We have solved part of the problem. It seemed that we had tons of ideas and plans floating around in our heads but hadn’t put any framework around all of it and so we were feeling like we were floundering a bit. One of the things we learned on the road (thanks to our new friends Keith and Amy from GreenAroundTheGlobe) is the value of setting goals and objectives. I know this is old hat to many, many people but it is not something that we had employed. Chatting with them over a couple of days (that seem so long ago now), we realized that we were missing out on the power of forward planning. So yesterday we sat down and put all of our thoughts and ideas and to-do’s down on paper and, where possible, attached a goal date for each. This helped to organize our thoughts, checked that we were both on the same page, and ensured that the harder tasks do not get procrastinated away in favor  of more fun tasks.

Re-connecting with friends and catching up has been tons of fun. Having the blog as a reference has been great as people have some idea of what the last year has been like for us. They ask questions about our stories giving us a chance to add in details and tell tales that didn’t make it into the blog posts. It’s funny though…we’re not ‘talkers’ per se and it’s hard to know how much people are really interested in. I don’t want to be blathering on and on and see someone’s eyes glaze over, but I also don’t want to stop short and give the impression that I’m not interested in talking about it either. I’m working on the premise that people want to hear about it…having friends return from long (or short) term trips I was always hesitant to ask too many questions or I thought my questions might be silly…now I’m on the other side and I’m saying ask all the questions you want – I’m eager tell my stories and to hear about what other peoples experiences are.

There are a few other oddities about being home:

• We aren’t cooking like I thought we would. Maybe it’s because we’re used to just going out for every meal, or that the kitchen (and it’s stuff) isn’t ours, or we’re just out of practice – either way we’ll have to get back at it, we may both have a bit of weight to lose but we still have to eat!
• I’m sleeping really well. I’ve slept right through every night since being home – that was a rarity for me while on the road. No barking dogs, no scooter noise, no roosters, and no thin walls with close neighbors means no need for earplugs and the nice soft bed and fresh linens means a nice comfy sleep.
• I know I joked last week about wearing the same clothes over and over again but it’s turning out to be true! Two reasons…it’s what I’m used to and so donning the same clothes as yesterday just happens, and because my old clothes don’t quite fit yet (need to hit bootcamp a few more times). I have been shopping a little though so although it may be the same few outfits, they’re not the same outfits I wore on the road.

It’s interesting being home. Just like being on the road it’s not quite what I expected and my emotions seem to be all over the place. It’s all part of the journey though and I just take it all in and figure it out as I go. I don’t start work for another week…that’ll be a whole other adjustment!

We’ve been back in Canada for two weeks now and, in many ways, our year away already seems like a distant dream. It’s amazing how quickly comfort and familiarity ingrain themselves again. We are enjoying being surrounded by culture we know and understand, are loving catching up with family and friends, and are happily getting back to our regular activities.

But, some days, it seems as though our re-entry into society is delayed…we keep regressing into on-the-road behavior.

• We want to take our clothes out of the dresser everyday…just to put them back in again.
• I still think about washing my panties in the sink every couple of days because I forget that I now have enough to last longer than a week.
• When I open my closet I gravitate to the same three outfits even though I now have a full wardrobe again.
• I find myself constantly stuffing toilet paper into my pockets in case the next pee break doesn’t have toilet paper.
• I still hoard plastic bags and napkins…never know when I might need them.
• We keep wanting to check out the Lonely Planet Canada to plan what to do/where to go the next day.
• In a public washroom I check the stall first to make sure it’s not a squat…and then I check the seat to make sure that no-one has stood on the seat to use it as a squat.
• When we go out for dinner we just about choke when the bill comes because we lived for 2 days on that in Vietnam/Bali/Thailand.
• When walking past fences and walls I hold my breath to avoid the disgusting stink of it being used as a urinal.
• I have to resist the urge to introduce myself to perfect strangers  explaining where I am from, how long I’ll be here, where I’ve been etc and then ask them for their favorite places and recommendations.
• We still write every purchase or expense in ‘the book’ to keep track of all the money…seriously…but that is a good habit to keep and we plan on continuing. Never hurts to know where all the money goes.

I’m sure, soon enough, these habits will fade away. Until then they are quirky reminders of the time we spent away.

Last day, last country, last international flight. We’re currently winging our way back to Canada three hundred and forty five days after we left.

We had so many firsts when we first set off that it was impossible to count them all. First time packing the bags, first long-distance, overnight bus ride, first time staying in a hostel, first time climbing a mountain, first time trying to communicate in an unknown language…it was all firsts. And it kept going as we kept going…first time crossing a border, first time being completely overwhelmed, first time being in absolute awe, first time sweating while standing in the shade absolutely still, first time using a squat toilet. I will remember them all and we will talk about them for years to come.

And then comes the time when we realized that we were doing something for the last time…and the ‘official last time’ list was started. Last time we would cross a border, last time we would speak Spanish, last time we would take a bus, last time we would swim in that ocean…last time we would pack our bags, on the last day, in the last country just before we board our last international flight. Last…for now.

We are not sad that the trip is over. It’s been an amazing year – one we will look back on as the year that started us out, pushed us out of our comfort zone and made us realize what we are capable of. We’re excited to see what our next Giant Steps will be.

‘Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.’      Shawshank Redemption

These are just a couple of my cravings
Everything it seems I like’s a little bit stronger
A little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me

We’ve been away now for almost a year. A year without the comforts of home,  familiar culture, food and routine. We’ll be back in Canada in less than a week and as much as we’re looking back reminiscing about all the fabulous times we’ve had we’re also looking forward to some of the things we have missed.

Here are some of our cravings, in no particular order because at any time any one of these could be the thing that is missed most:

Food. We have, for the most part, lived without ‘western’ food for the entire time we’ve been away. Mainly because we have wanted to enjoy the cuisine of the countries we have been visiting, but also because non-western countries don’t do western food all that well (unless there is a sizable expat community). 

We have also missed cooking. At home we both cook and enjoy trying new things. This isn’t possible on the road (outside of the couple of times we’ve rented apartments) and it’s amazing how much we miss cooking, and eating, even the most basic of dishes. The thought of having a kitchen again, and being able to have something as simple as a cup of tea and some toast fills us with joy at this point…I know, it’s the simple things.

In a great stroke of good planning, we are visiting both of our families before we head back to Victoria and so will have the chance to enjoy each of our mothers home cooking.  J’s mom is of German heritage and there we will enjoy fabulous schnitzel and rouladin, along with some great breads and cheeses. My family hails from jolly olde England and mum makes the best roast beef and yorkshire puddings in the world (I can say that now ‘cause I’ve been ‘round the world), plus her pancakes aren’t too bad either! Do you sense some buttering up and hinting going on?

Sleep. I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to sleeping in the same bed for more than 2 or 3 nights in a row!  I’ve actually done better than I thought I would – I was worried I’d be plagued with insomnia caused by uncomfortable beds, or weird night smells, or (heaven-forbid) bedbugs etc. It hasn’t been as bad as I thought, although there always seems to be a barking dog  and a crowing rooster wherever we are – I  will not miss that at all. The beds haven’t been too bad although I did abandon my take-a-picture-of-every-bed project about half way through – the pictures (and most of the beds) were too bleak to even think about looking at ever again and I’m sure my family and friends looked at some of them in horror.

Furniture. I have discovered that  the concept of comfortable furniture is lost upon most of the world. Either through necessity, or culture, or climate, or availability of materials, most of the world lives close to the ground or on hard, non-cushioned, furniture. Finding an easy chair or sofa to laze upon has been impossible and my European-soft bones and Canadian comfort ideals have not adjusted to how many people around the world lounge. Although I have great plans on what to do with my time once we get home I have a feeling it will be hard to get my ass out from within the deep folds of our sofa to get anything done.

Clothing. Okay, I commented a few months ago about  how freeing it was to be traveling with such a limited wardrobe and how I really didn’t mind wearing the same clothes over and over and over again, but I think it’s reaching it’s limit. Not  only am I seriously tired of the same look day after day but the clothes are beyond worn now – my pants and what-I-call-shorts are faded beyond recognizing their original color and both now have wear holes in the bum region. My one favorite blue t-shirt was faded, holy and so stretched out of shape that I had it remade (in both blue and green) while we were in Vietnam…but they still look exactly like the original and so I am already tired of them. I am looking forward to my old clothes, and some new ones too…something fashionable and stylish, or at least not grey pants and a blue t-shirt.

Clean. Our tolerance for cleanliness has reached a new low during this year – both our personal cleanliness and that what which we will live in. For the first 2/3 of our trip most of the rooms we stayed in were dingy and uninspired (Asia’s truly cheap prices have allowed us to afford better) and, although we have not slept on any truly dirty sheets, many beds have had graying bedding and slightly smelly pillows. Many of the ‘restaurants’ we have eaten in would definitely not pass health code at home and sometimes I wonder how we have not been sick (J did get Salmonella once early on in the trip but that was because we broke our own lax rules…raw egg white in a Pisco Sour in Peru..just plain silly!).

I will not miss the garbage that piles up everywhere we have been and, although pollution has not affected our health as it does some people, I think we will bend down and kiss the clean green grass once we land in Vancouver and smell the ocean scented breeze.

Bathroom. Bathroom luxury has, in recent years, been taken to new levels in North America…suffice it to say that this is not the case in the rest of the world. Squat toilets are the norm in many places, and I hate them. There is argument that they are cleaner and more hygienic than western toilets, but I don’t believe it. I am hardly ever able to ‘do my business’ while I worry about where all my clothing is, wonder if items are going to fall out of my pocket, and try not to pee on my feet. And I am unable, completely unable, to do #2 on a squat…my record is 5 days on the Inca Trail without pooing – we ate 4 times a day on that hike and not one ounce left my body…it was impossible! But, on the first day back in town? Five #2’s in one day…TMI, I know…but there it is. I will be happy at home if the toilet is not a squat and if it’s actually attached to the floor (TMI already, so I won’t explain that one) – toilet paper, doors and clean floors are all luxuries.

Our desire to shower is mitigated by at least three factors…how badly do we smell, how clean is the shower, and what are the towels like. This doesn’t take into consideration whether there is any hot water or whether we have any reasonably clean clothes to put on afterwards. A room with a great shower is worth any price and will find us showering 2 or 3 times in a day just for the sheer joy of it.

Routine. I know it seems weird but I miss the routine of my every day life. Traveling has its own routine but I always feel just a little out-of-sorts. I’m looking forward to having my own home again, working in the garden, going to bootcamp, shopping at the plaza, riding my bike and yes…even going to work. I’m sure it won’t last long and soon the wanderlust will return but right now I’m looking over that fence and seeing the green, green grass of home.

Bali is turning out to be everything I expected from a lush, tropical paradise. The weather is hot, there are periodical monsoon rainstorms, and beauty abounds everywhere I look.

All around me is green. The terraced rice paddies in the country-side are a green so  vibrant and fresh that they exude hope for a successful crop. The dark green of the frangipani trees contrasts with its pale, creamy, white and pink flowers that have a scent of tropical heaven. They are my favorite flower in the world and when I look at them I am reminded of the incredible beauty and grace of Asian women. The place we are staying in Ubud is typical of a Balinese guesthouse…the bamboo bungalows are set in a lush garden of lilies, palm trees, hibiscus and a thousand other tropical plants I can’t name. It really is like a tropical paradise.

The people of Bali are very friendly. The owner of the guesthouse, the chef/cook of the restaurant, the tour guide on the bike tour all took the time to chat with us and to tell us about their piece of this great island. Bali is an easy place to get lost on as we discovered as we took a three day road trip on a scooter. There are roads and lanes criss-crossing the entire island and the maps are not very reliable. We spent a good amount of time in the middle of nowhere wondering where we were and, without fail, every time we stopped to try to figure out the map someone would stop and cheerfully ask us where we were going and help us figure it out. We scootered up some pretty remote roads and everywhere we went people smiled huge smiles at us and children shouted hello. We certainly felt welcome.

There are temples everywhere on Bali…they lend an ethereal feel to the island. Every village has at least three temples, every family compound has one and even the rice paddies have temples to appease the gods. Religion is a large part of life with offerings given twice daily to both gods and demons and various ceremonies throughout the year to celebrate milestones or to ward off evilness. The graceful movements of the women as they give the daily offerings is enchanting…placing the offering of rice and flowers, sprinkling the holy water, and wafting the incense upwards to call the gods…all scripted movements that can’t help but to appease the gods.

And then there is the music. In the evenings as we sit on the veranda the faint sound of Gamelan music wafts over the rice paddies providing the perfect accompaniment to the fading daylight. A few nights ago we saw a Kecak performance with its chorus of 50 men chanting and providing the backdrop for the amazing dance depicting the Hindu story of Ramayana. The sound of the men chanting and the sight of the exacting movements of the women dancing was so stunning that it brought tears to my eyes.

BUT…

There are a couple of things about Bali that are not so enchanting.

.There is garbage everywhere. Beside the streets, in the paths through the rice paddies, on the beaches…everywhere. I think leaving garbage everywhere comes from a time when all packaging really was disposable and degradable. The advent of plastic packaging now means that the garbage just stays around forever and the behavior has not changed perhaps because the infrastructure for change is not here yet. This is certainly not the first country where we have noticed garbage everywhere (other than Germany I think every country we have visited has this same problem) but here it is so noticeable when contrasted with the inherent beauty of the place.

The vendors are unrelenting. In Ubud it’s the taxi drivers, in Lovina it was the souvenir hawkers and massage girls on the beach and at the cremation ceremony we attended it was the sarong sellers. They ask over and over and over again and will not take no for an answer…and then they’ll ask again just in case we have changed our mind. They are very aggressive and will swamp any person showing even the slightest bit of interest. In fact anything other than a direct, and repeated, ‘no’ indicates interest and then they will descend. Again, we have seen hawkers, souvenir sellers and street vendors everywhere but here it seems predatory

The beauty of Bali, and its people, overcome these downsides though and, even though it has rained everyday since we’ve arrived, we still feel very lucky to be here enjoying such a lush, tropical island paradise.

There is a dull roar that hangs over Vietnam. From north to south, in the highlands and in the delta, in small towns and especially in big cities the inescapable sound of a million scooters fills the air.

Scooters are everywhere. People don’t walk anywhere, they just jump on their scooter and ride to where ever they want to go even if it’s just a few doors down. It’s like the scooter is an extension of their body, an extra set of legs that gets them where they want to go more efficiently. The roads are filled with them and rush hour is an indescribable chaos of buzzing and honking that I have been unable to capture in any photograph. People can drive scooters into places that I would have thought impossible…while walking through a narrow, winding lane, or through a packed morning market, there is every chance that the unmistakable sound of a scooter will come up from behind and a polite ‘beep-beep’ will request passage.

Parked scooters take up every available space that isn’t used for driving…sidewalks are un-passable, lanes are choked and even the smallest of establishments has a young fellow acting as a parking valet to manage the ‘parking lot’. They are parked anywhere and everywhere and at night are tucked into their home parking spot in the main room of the house right next to the TV and the sleeping mat just like a member of the family.

Scooters are a multi purpose vehicle here. They are family vehicles ferrying mom, dad and kids around…the school near where we are staying is surrounded by parents on scooters picking up their kids after school…a little different than the family sedans and  SUV’s in the parking lots at home and yet it all looked the same once the kiddies came out, greeted their parents and siblings and jumped on for the ride home.

They are moto-taxis, which we used and loved…it was exhilarating being on the back of a bike driving through the crazy traffic. With an experienced driver at the wheel it wasn’t scary at all and we could really get a good sense of how close it all is. Sometimes we even use them with our big packs…the driver holds the pack in front of him and we hop on the back with our smaller packs…after what I’ve seen scooters capable of carrying I had no trouble feeling safe!

They are delivery vehicles for all manner of things…construction materials, beer, ice, large mirrors, propane  tanks, ladders, you-name-it. They are farm tractors, school buses, and moving vans…I did not get a picture but the best I’ve seen was a full sized, heavy, carved wood sofa with a set of stools and table atop it on  the back of a scooter driven by an old man….amazing!!

And when not being driven they are a perfect place to take a nap, or sit and chat with friends.

Riding is instinctive, set into a person at a very young age as they ride up front on the scooter in front of mom or dad on specially adapted seats…there is nothing cuter than seeing a toddler looking out over the handlebars holding onto the mirrors with a huge grin on his face. Unlike at home where a youngster slowly graduates from riding in the backseat to riding in the front seat of the car, here a youngster graduates to being able to stand in front of the driver to, eventually being big enough to ride behind the driver.

Driving here makes sense despite the initial look of mayhem. It’s a cooperative environment (rather than the competitive environment we have at home) and everyone takes responsibility for looking out for everyone else. People look ahead and deal with each obstacle as it comes…dodging and weaving expertly around other scooters, buses, bicycles, pedestrians and whatever else may come up. It appears to be like walking through a large crowd…sure everyone is close but we generally don’t run into other people…it all just flows.

Crossing the road in that mayhem may sound like an exercise in stupidity as there are no crosswalks and few traffic lights but, actually, it is simpler to cross the road here than at home…just step out and keep moving. That’s right, don’t wait for a break in traffic, certainly don’t wait for anyone to stop (because no one will), and don’t do it half-heartedly…just slowly step out and join the flow…watch the first driver change course, focus on the next one and watch him change course, then the next one and the next one…slowly, slowly the other side of the street is safely reached even through the craziest traffic in the biggest traffic circles in the city. While I certainly wouldn’t want to say that playing in traffic like this is fun, I will say that it is highly amusing.

I love scooters, and I love how much they are a part of life here. I love how even driving here is a public event…people are out in the open instead of hidden behind metal and glass, people have conversations among bikes, and there is a personal nature to the traffic. I’ve talked to people who have been in Vietnam before and say that as recently as 5 or 6 years ago the streets were filled with bicycles instead of scooters. I can see now that cars are encroaching more and more and I wonder if in 5 or 6 more years that cars will be more prevalent than scooters. In my book that will be a shame.

It’s been a while, but when I was younger I had a somewhat re-occurring dream. I grew up in the 80’s during the time of the so-called ‘cold war’ but must have been influenced by war accounts from the second world war. I had an impending sense of doom but it was, strangely, coupled with images of a bygone era. The dream was of a sky filled with bomber planes…wave upon wave…dropping bombs relentlessly…and I was on the ground dodging them…quite successfully actually. Interestingly a scene from a Berlin metro station reminded me of that dream and now, being in Vietnam, I wonder about the dreams of those involved in the war that took place here.

History here is so much more tangible than say Europe where events took place in some distant past and have been tempered by time. The American War (as it is rightly called here) happened during my lifetime and, although I don’t directly remember it, I know that as I look at the people here that they do remember it…vividly. And I know that the people who came here to fight in the war also have memories of their time here.

As we rode the bus from the north to the south I tried to imagine what it must have been like during that time. During a tour of the Demilitarized Zone our guide told stories of what his 14 year old life was like at the time. Stories of soldiers with guns, of helicopters flying lowly overhead, of trying to convince security patrols that he wasn’t Viet Cong. Not stories that a 14 year old should have. He showed us areas that once were covered in jungle but that now are flat wastelands contaminated by napalm and Agent Orange – what must it have been like to watch the jungle fade away and be taken over by battlefields? What is it like now trying to farm that same land and seeing the effect of all those chemicals on family and friends over time?

The heat and humidity here is unrelenting, the jungle is thick and impossible to see through, the rivers are murky and full of unknown creatures and either the sun is shining its full intensity or the skies are opened and rain falls in buckets making everything a muddy maelstrom. I think of the foreign soldiers and wonder how they managed in this steamy, sweaty, soupy climate scrambling around in their combat gear with fear thick in their throats, knowing that the enemy has the advantage on their home turf.

The War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Min City (former Saigon) told the story through graphic pictures, sending home the horror of war with intense reality and, although the story was told from a Vietnamese perspective, the pictures were of Vietnamese and American soldiers and it was clear that what everyone went through was horrific beyond belief.

Visiting the tunnels where villagers would spend day and weeks fleeing the fighting makes shows how horrid it must have been to try and go about daily life. The sophistication of those tunnels makes me realize the tenacity they had to continue that daily life, farming up top by day and living below ground by night. Whole villages managed in tunnels like these with families spending their time in small nooks carved into the sides of the tunnels. It is unbelievably tight and cramped and the air must have been hot and stale but they managed.

Two things really surprise me about Vietnam. The first is that this country that so recently was ravaged by a war involving westerners would now open their arms to those same westerners. The same people that fought in the war, or saw it through their childhood eyes, are now welcoming us in, making us comfortable, learning our language, and smiling at us around every corner. There is a genuine sentiment of pride and happiness that the world now wants to see their country.

The second was that American war vets would want to return to a place that, for them, must be full of bad memories that would take them back to a time they may have spent a long time trying to forget. But they are here – they come to see old battlefields, to revisit old friends for whose side they fought while here, and maybe to leave the past behind. It must be a difficult journey for them and as I see them I wonder what is going through their minds.

The story told here about the American War is a little different from that that we learn at home, but it is not told with malice or ego but with with pragmatism and nationalistic pride. Every country has its own story, told its own way, with its own ending…the truth always lies somewhere in between.

Funny thing…traveling around the world for a year has made me think about living closer to home. No mum, I don’t mean that I’ll be moving back to my home town. I mean I should visit the market that’s just down the street instead of going to the supermarket. I should go see what the butcher has that’s local instead of buying meat pre-wrapped in styrofoam packages. I should have a veggie garden.

Everywhere we’ve been I’ve seen markets as a large part of everyone’s day. Why do we stock up with a weeks worth of groceries, eat meat that is factory produced, and buy vegetables that  are shipped from around the world?

Fresh

Here, in Vietnam, people eat breakfast at the local Pho stand, go to the market to get lunch ingredients and then go to the market again to get dinner ingredients…now that’s fresh! And that’s what local markets can deliver – the produce likely came out of the ground that morning and the eggs laid within the past few days. Fish in South East Asia was kept in water-filled plastic bins complete with aerating hoses…pick the one you want and take it home. Food tastes better, and is better for us, when it hasn’t been hanging around for weeks.

Seasonal

That’s why everything is so fresh…because it’s offered in the season that it is produced. No red peppers from Chile, no strawberries from California, and no pineapples from Thailand. Local markets  deliver what is available right now, where ever they are. In Peru it was potatoes  and carrots, in Germany it was radishes and lettuce and in India it was eggplant and cauliflower. When it comes to climate, some countries are certainly more fortunate that others and can produce a wide range of food all year round but seasonality provides a rotating variety of produce and lets us anticipate what the next season will bring.

Variety

In markets around the world I saw a dizzying variety of items. There was lots of different produce, many cuts of meat and plenty of fish, but there was also a plethora of other things that one may need. There is usually a stall or two selling spices, cooking oil, rice, flour, and other flavoring ingredients. Often times it was also possible to buy a knife, bowl, pan or rice cooker right there also. And always there is a booth, or two, or three selling ready made meals to enjoy on the low stools and tables nearby or to take home.

Personal

My favorite part of the markets I’ve seen is the personal nature of them. The lady behind that pile of greens may not have picked them herself this morning but she likely is related to the person that did. The eggs came from chickens that run around some ones’ yard all day. The people in the market are connected to the food they sell, and the people that buy from the market are connected to the people that produce the food they eat. It’s all personal.

Local Support

In far away markets ‘local support’ is meaningless…there is no other way of doing business other than locally, but at home going to the market means supporting local businesses, local families and a local economy. I can see the dwindling farmland near where I live – it is becoming impossible to earn a living running a small farm and yet there is a movement toward local products. The tide needs to turn faster before there is no more ‘local’ to enjoy.

Don’t worry, I’m not becoming a hemp-wearing, crunchy granola type who only eats organic produce and chickens that led a ‘happy’ life, but I am going to try to live more locally…support local farmers, find a local butcher, grow my own carrots.

I’d been looking forward to seeing Halong Bay since we left home. Visions of limestone islands rising up out of the sea seemed, to me, to be one of the quintessential Asian scenes… vibrant green rice paddies, women wearing conical hats, and wrinkled old men being some of the others.

We had been warned that Halong Bay was losing its luster. That pollution and tourists  were taking over and that maybe it should be skipped. I couldn’t skip it though and, although it is polluted and touristy and the weather pretty much sucked, I’m glad that we saw it because it really is amazing.

There are nine million, five hundred and twenty two thousand, three hundred and forty seven travel agencies in Hanoi (seven hundred and thirty three of them are named ‘Sinh Cafe’) all trying to sell tours to Halong Bay. With the adage that ‘you get what you pay for’, we opted for a mid range three day/two night option that would have us stay on the boat one night and on Cat Ba Island for one night.

We bussed out to Halong City to join the throngs of tourists at the dock all trying to get to one of the hundreds of junks in the harbor. I knew there must be hundreds of boats that ply the waters of Halong Bay (based on the number of travel agencies offering tours), but I didn’t expect them to all be in the harbor at once!

We were soon herded onto a boat and it jostled  its way out of the dock. As it jostled, we wandered around the decks of the boat marveling at how different promotional pictures can be from the actual product. The boat was nothing like what we’d been sold and I had already started to compose my complaint email in my head when we pulled up next to another junk and were led to our actual boat. This was much better…we had our own small cabin with a private bathroom, there was a small dining room and a deck up top for viewing the scenery.

The weather was not the best…cloudy, foggy and a little misty too…but the scenery was still stunning…I can’t imagine what it would be like if the skies were clear and the sun shining. The fog lent an ethereal quality to the scene, and the karsts seemed to touch both the sea and the sky at the same time.

After about an hour of sailing we arrived in the bay we were to spend the night…along with about 30 other boats. With more than 2000 islands in the area I would have thought there would be more than enough coves to settle into but, no, we all stayed in the same bay…so much for solitude! It was pleasant enough though and other junk boats added to the view.

That afternoon, after the requisite cave visit (it seems, in Asia, there is always a cave, a waterfall, and an ethnic village to visit), we all hopped in kayaks to get a closer look at the islands. It was pretty neat to kayak so close to the karst islands, under the overhanging cliffs and, in one case, through a tunnel into a serenely quiet grotto surrounded by steep, high hills. We returned to the boat to enjoy an afternoon on the deck enjoying a beer and looking out onto the water.

Later on in the evening, after dinner had been served and a few beers been quaffed, the karaoke came out. Karaoke is very popular in this part of the world. Everyone is a singer, and they like it LOUD…it’s as though every karaoke machine only has one volume setting and it’s well past the distortion level. We are not singers but joined in for the chorus where we could…even on the Vietnamese songs much to the delight of the crew on board. It was a lot of fun but I’m sure it didn’t add to the peaceful time that people on other boats were trying to enjoy.

The next day we were transferred to Cat Ba Island. The idea was to do a short hike through the national park, but it turned out  to be a climb up a steep hill to a tower that offered amazing views of the area. The climb was pretty tough in parts, especially considering we were wearing our flip flops, and would have been made extremely slippery if it was really raining. I was amazed at some of the older tourists that we encountered – turns out some of them had been sold a ‘quiet, flat, walk through the rainforest’ – they were not happy campers!

We spent the afternoon cleaning up and wandering around Cat Ba town before meeting our group for dinner. We went out with the group for a couple of beers….that inevitably turned into a couple more…but we headed home before the gang headed to the karaoke bar to finish off…enough is enough!

The journey back through Halong Bay was even mistier the next day and visibility was pretty poor. It was still a sight to see though and I’m glad we didn’t miss it – sometimes a place is popular because it really is just that fantastic – this is one of those places.

Today we took a walking tour of ‘Hidden Hanoi’ and learned how the history, culture and architecture combine to make the Old Quarter of Hanoi so vibrant, mysterious and interesting.

The tour started in a hidden cafe…behind a shop, down a lane, through another shop, up the stairs, and up the spiral stairway to a balcony overlooking the lake…I have no idea how people know it is even there, never mind how they would ever find it. Our guide led us and it was the perfect place to start.

Here we had a short history lesson while sipping tea and watching brides compete for the perfect photo-op in the park around the lake. We had noticed these bridal photo shoots the day before – the bride and groom, decked out like models, and their photography teams would slowly circle the lake, all looking for that perfect location to take their photos. The dresses were all poufy and brightly colored – pink, purple, red and gold – and the grooms outfits were just as elaborate. Anne explained to us that couples marry on an auspicious day, linked to their birthday and the phase of the moon and told to them by a fortune teller. She said that, traditionally, a bride would wear a red Vietnamese suit to marry in but that recent fashion is taking hold – hence the brightly colored fashion dresses.

And then we were out onto the street competing with the scooters. Hanoi is completely overrun by scooters… scooters on the street, scooters parked on the sidewalks so tight you can’t squeeze between them, scooters driving down the sidewalk, scooters squeezing through the market…you get the picture, scooters everywhere. So we walk on the street, with the traffic, very carefully. Crossing is fun…just bravely step out and go, slow and steady…make eye contact with the oncoming driver and they will go around…no eye contact, then we have  to dodge…just keep moving. We pretty much had the hang of it already, but Anne took it up a notch, heading right into the middle of a crazy busy intersection…and we survived! It’s actually fun and isn’t nearly as dangerous as it sounds!

One of the first things I noticed about Hanoi was that people seemed to be living in the street. I don’t mean ‘street people’ who have no home…but that people seemed to be living their lives in the street in front of their buildings, ‘on the stoop’ so to speak. Everywhere I looked there were people sitting on low stools drinking tea, playing cards, reading the paper, and playing with their children. Some were minding their small shop or tending to the street side ‘restaurant’ but many were just passing time.

Today I learned that people think of the sidewalk outside of their building as an extension of their home. Due to old tax laws buildings are extremely narrow and long. Due to an increase in population these long, narrow buildings no longer have any natural light – the old courtyards, once open to the sky, have long ago been filled in to allow for another story or two to be added. Buildings that used to house one family now house up to 6 or 7 families with shared kitchen and washroom facilities and very little private space. They are dark, dank and smelly. People sit outside because it’s more pleasant, more social, and likely they have a business to run.

Generally the person who owns the building runs the business that is the storefront of it but a building with 6 or 7 families can support many more businesses than just the one. Next to the main storefront of every building is the laneway – this laneway is perfect real estate to set up a small  shop or street food stall. Some laneways support multiple street food stalls owing to the schedule of meals that Vietnamese keep. In the morning the Pho stall sets up warming up patrons with steaming bowls of noodles and beef, in the afternoon perhaps a small barbeque will be sparked up to sell meat skewers as snacks, and in the evening it’s time for seafood for the dinner crowd. Each business is owned by a different family and a strict schedule is followed – this explains why we can walk down the same street at different times and not see the same thing twice!!

We found the last hidden hideaway of the day on our own while searching out some lunch. A small shop advertizing ‘Bun Bo’ (beef with vermicelli noodles, greens and herbs…yummy!) looked inviting and so we stepped inside. It was crazy busy but we could see that maybe there was a back room so we pushed through…it was full too but there was a set of stairs, so up we went to find an entire second floor filled with diners enjoying Bun Bo. We sat down, ordered and enjoyed a fabulous, hidden lunch.