Vietnam, December 7-9

So much for the great preparations we make for a trip.  December was supposed to be "dry" season in Vietnam, but maybe we can blame it on climate change.  It has rained and rained and rained since we arrived.  Our careful planning to bring clothes that we could sweat in has been to no avail.  What we needed were clothes that could get soaking wet and dry overnight in this monsoon.  No such luck.  It rained in  Hanoi,  it  rained and  continues to rain in Hue and we read it will rain   in  Hoi An and Ho Chi Minh City.

So we are trying to keep up a stiff upper lip, act like the road warriors that we claim to be, and get on those wet mountain bikes and enjoy ourselves.  The beauty of it is that we are experiencing the jungle feel of Vietnam   with the saturated ground, mist swirling around us, and the water buffalos blocking our bike paths.   The sweetness of the vietnamese people has impressed all of us.


We flew from Hanoi to Hue on Saturday.  Our Vietnamese guides picked us up at the airport and about 45 minutes later we arrived at the Pilgrimage Village, an oasis of palm trees,  banana and coconut trees, beautiful swimming pools and spas amidst villages of people living what appears to be subsistence lives.  None of us are really sure what "communism" means in this country of the very rich and the very poor.  It doesn't appear that the "commune" is sharing equally, but the country appears to be thriving with tourism.

We had a "practice" ride the first afternoon of about 13 miles.  Not too bad, and not much rain.  The big shock to us is the difference between the bike paths of Europe and the roads that we will be sharing here in Vietnam with trucks, bikes, scooters, cars, chickens/roosters, dogs, cows, and water buffalo.  I wished that I had brought my rear view mirror, and then immediately was glad that I could not see what was behind me.  I think in this case ignorance is bliss.

On our ride yesterday, we visited an orphanage run by Buddhist nuns.  It was upsetting to some of us, but for others it appeared that these kids were getting as much or more than the children outside the gates.  Unlike what we expected, the up to 200 children here are not available for adoption.  The nuns worry about what kind of home they will have when they leave, and therefore decided the best for these kids was to stay together as a family.  We saw infants, toddlers and above.  They looked well fed and happy, although at least one of the babies looked like he wanted more love, according to one of our friends.  It is difficult for me to pass judgement.  I’m just not sure that a traditional family is better than what these kids have, especially when I read about what some traditional families do to their children.
I assume that the nuns have had a bad experience with adopting out a child and this is why  they no longer allow the children to be taken.

Vietnam is a land of pagodas and temples.  The Buddhists venerate their ancestors and so each family has a “temple” to their fathers and grandfathers, and they are everywhere.  I’m hoping I can get out of the rain enough to take some photos.

We love this resort and lived it up at happy hour.  All of us signed up for spa sessions for the second day and spent the first night discussing whether we would ride if it were pouring rain.  We decided that we could ride, so we spent 3 hours in monsoon like rain so wet that we were wet to the underwear level.  Nothing is as wet as bike shorts.  Those pads soak up the water and keep it.  The third day of riding we were unaware that we would have a one hour lunch followed by a two hour van ride to Hoi An.  Nothing is so miserable as sitting on a soaking wet bike pad.  Luckily, we were able to get into our suitcases to at least get a sweatshirt.

Hanoi, Vietnam - December 4

Rain.  Rain. Rain.  What can I say?  We looked like a bunch of Tele-tubbies in our yellow, green and orange Goretex rain jackets.  I don't mean drizzle, either.  I mean full on rain.  Not my cup of tea, but we made the best of it.

We don't start biking until Saturday, so we sloshed around a bit today on foot.  First up was a trip to the Presidential grounds of this communist country.  Not sure what is so communist about them  as it appears that good old capitalism is alive and well.  We got to see the outside of Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, but not the old boy himself (preserved) as Fridays are his day off, we were told.  We got to see his Presidential house, in which he never lived because it was too grand.  We learned that he died in 1969 before he saw his dream of a united Vietnam.  And through it all, we got rained on.

Sien (not sure of the spelling), our guide, told us much about the Vietnamese peoples' history...100s of years of domination by the Chinese, Japanese, and French.  100 years (1854 to 1954) of domination and fighting with the French.  He also told us about the 1954 Geneva accord, which stated that the Vietnamese people would have 300 days to have free elections and then would be a free and independent country.  Unfortunately this accord was not fulfilled by the westeren world, and the country was yet again assigned to be dominated by a foreign presence.  Some 10 years later, the United States entered into a war to keep Communism at bay and 65,000 plus US deaths later, Vietnam finally got its freedom.

Most poignant moment for me:  Sien mentioned that it was illegal to own a gun in Vietnam.  I asked him how many mass shootings they have had and he looked at me blankly like "what do you mean?" and then said none.  So, no mass murders means no mentally ill people or no guns?  The Canadians in our group looked at us Americans and gave their condolensces about our latest episode. The Vietnamese expressed their sadness for our people and  shook their heads.  San Bernandino has cast a pall on this trip for me.

But I digress, again.  We spent the afternoon seeking out "pop-up" cards, which are cut out greeting cards that pop-up when opened to reveal very intricate designs of a girl riding a bike and carrying flower, or a Christmas tree, or a couple in love.  A successful afternoon, at last.  We can bury our heads in the ground for another day.

I'll try to be more upbeat tomorrow.  I think the rain and the guns have gotten to me today.

Hanoi - December 3

I   believe it   is  Thursday,   December 3, but I'd not bet my life on it.  The plan was to meet for breakfast at 9:30 (sounds late, but hey, we travelled for 24 hours without sleep, so give us a break).  The  Hanoi Melia hotel has a great breakfast bar meaning that most of the food was recognizable.  After gaining the sustenance we required, it was off to the Hanoi Hilton the  notorious prison in which American pilots, including Senator McCain, were imprisoned.  Actually, the Hoa Lo Prison was built by the French colonialists in 1896 to hold thousands of Vietnames patriotic and revolutionary fighters.  Imagine, by the time our fighters were housed there, the Vietnamese people had suffered over 70 years of French rule and inhumane treatment.   Is it any wonder that they would be so cruel to yet another set of fighters hoping to disrupt the plans they had for their own country.  I left the prison confused and sad about man's inhumanity to man.  I'm not sure why we lost over 65,000 of our people to fight for who could control another country.  I guess I just don't understand colonialism.

Next stop was the Museum of Literature.  Not sure what the names means because it appeared to be a university and we were there on what also appeared to be graduation day.  The graudates threw their mortar boards in the air, very reminiscent of graduation at say the Naval Academy.  What was noticably different, however, was the lovely Vietnames girls in their equally lovely ao dai AO DAI.  I wish I could put a photo in this blog to show these lovely outfits, but can't figure out how to do it on my iPad.  Drat.

Back to meet our tour guide who took us through the Hanoi market streets.  Each street specialized in a particular product and so the streets were named as such.  So we went through Shoe Street, Fabric Street, and what appeared to be Home Depot Street.  It looks like there is nothing you can't buy in the market.  How about Weasel Coffee?  Really, this is the specialty coffee that gets its name from the process by which it is produced, namely that weasels (the animals, yes) injest coffee beans then poop (that's the scientific name) said beans out their other end.  Thus far, we've not tried any.  We also saw fruit JACK FRUIT that makes it's way through the body odiferously and is thus banned from office workers' breakfasts.  Turtles and frogs in cages ready to be cooked, but thank god no dogs!  I don't think I could have taken that.

We were very lucky also that Pam has a friend who lives here!  Farris has been in Vietnam about four months.  He is a deadringer for Jimmy Fallon, except maybe more handsome.  He served us champagne and a variety of Vietnamese fruits at his beautiful apartment overlooking the city.  Next stop was an outdoor restaurant that was fantastic.  The concept was great:  gather together all of the very best street food vendors under one roof, put together a huge menu of all of their best offerings, add in waiters, let the patrons order the various items, and the waiters gather them up.  What a treat.  Not sure what we ate, but I loved what Farris called the Dunkin Donuts - soft round rolls with some kind of meat mixture in the middle and just a little bit sweet.  The big surprise was that for six of us including two beers or two glasses of wine each the bill was only a little more than a MILLION Vietnamese dong!   Really, only $59.00  Quon an Dong come here next time you are in Hanoi.

The reason the price was such a surprise is the difference in cost from within the hotel and the outside.  Hotel:  $8 for a beer.  Outside:  3 beer for $1.00    As my dear old dad likes to say (jokingly) "I wonder what the poor people are doing?"  Hopefully, we will learn how to order beer and wine outside.

Vietnam - Days 1-3

Fleas.  Fleas.  What a way to start a trip.  My poor city Shih Tzu, Indy, picked them up from my parents’ country cousin Shih Tzu.  The poor guy scratched all night two nights before we were leaving for our 16 day trip to Vietnam and Cambodia.  Hunting dark fleas on a dark grey shih tzu is not easy, but I found them and the evidence that they were setting up shop on my poor boy.  So, rather than read about all of the sites we were going to see, I spent the last day getting flea killing medication from the Vet, stripping beds, pulling down curtains, and cleaning rugs.  Every dog bed...why does he have one in every room?...every dog bed had to be taken apart and cleaned.  So, by the time Pam, Suzanne and I left this morning, he was resting comfortably and not scratching.  I’m sure he was dreaming of running again through the flea-infested fields of Indiana.

December 1.  But I digress, as is my way.  At 8:15 Jeanine picked up Suzanne and me, then picked up Pam.  By 9:00 we were on the way.  Rain, rain, rain and traffic, but still we made it to Dulles 2 hours before the flight and found the Korean Air checkin lines almost EMPTY.  Security was equally as empty.  I tried not to wonder if people were staying away because of fear of terorism.  The next surprise was a quick checkin to the back of the plane.  We must be living right  because all three of us had empty seats next to us.  We also found seats with an entertainment center with lots of up to date options and an electrical outlet for our ipads.  Why can’t we have the same amenities from American airlines? One more thing --Korean flight attendants are just so kind.

Bimbimbap.    It sounded like something from a Disney movie, sort of like “bippity bippity bop”.  Not so, bimbimbap was my dinner for the flight. The Korean flight attendant even provided written directions with photos to explain how we prepared and ate the food.   It was good.

The Korean Air entertainment center tells me we are exactly 9 hours from arrival in Seoul.  After a 3 hour layover, we have only five more hours on a Vietnam Air flight to Hanoi.  ETA:  9:20 pm  

December 2.  All in all this trip will have taken 22 hours and crossed multiple timezones and the international date line.  I am telling myself that going in this direction is much easier for jetlag.  I hope so.

We have only 3 hours in the Seoul Incheon Airport, but five hours on the return trip.  Touted as one of the top ten airports in the world, this airport seems to have it all:  theaters, cultural attractions, shops and restaurants, nail and massage salons, even an area that is set up for passengers to sleep and shower.  I’m hoping we can explore it a bit and compare it to our own airport, Dulles.  I have no delusions about how the two will compare.

Midnight (24 hours after we left Dulles) we arrive at our hotel in downtown Hanoi.  It is night, so we cannot really see what this place looks like, but the hotel is great and there is a mini-bar!  Good Morning, Vietnam----tomorrow!

France, Look Out

2:49 PM, Suzy and I are readying ourselves for our bike/barge trip in Provence.  By readying ourselves, I mean that we are trying to make sure our debit cards work overseas, that we have global data on our cell phones, and that we have boarding passes.  For the young people who read this blog (if any) this would take maybe ten minutes, 15 if they are slow.  We've been at this for a good hour.

Who knew you could print from your Kindle using Bluetooth?  By "you" I mean the rest of the world.  For us, it has taken three calls to the Kindle gurus for explanation.  We resorted to printing from my laptop because I think Suzy was too embarrassed to call them again.

Anyway, we've gone from travelling with very small suitcases (a badge of honor) to our current state where we have pretty large rolling duffel bags (the boat instructions for this trip said to bring soft sided luggage because of space).  Because they are large, obviously, we had to bring just about everything in our closets.  I'm hoping that we won't be lifting them very much.

Suzy, Pam and I leave tomorrow for Paris, then a flight to Montpelier, then a train to Avignon.  All in all I believe we will reach our final destination in about 20 hours.  Friends from California will join us in Avignon.  From there, we board out barge for a seven day trip of biking and I guess "barging."

 All is well in the world, the weather is supposed to be beautiful, BUT 20-27 mph winds.  I'm just hoping they are tailwinds.  Otherwise, we may be doing a lot more "barging" than "biking".  With that good French wine it shouldn't be a big problem.

We are hoping that on the round trip around Avignon (see itinerary below), we can visit LeFiguieres, a fig farm owned by the in-laws of our friend, Beverly.  That would be a great adventure.

Wish us well.  If we have good wifi, I'll be sending our own photos and bits about the trip.

OUR ITINERARY:  Avignon to Aigues Mortes

Day 1: Arrival in Avignon
Day 2: Avignon, round tour, 28 mi. (45 km)
Day 3: Avignon - Aramon, 26 mi. (40 km)
Day 4: Aramon - Vallabrègues, 22 mi. (35 km)
Day 5: Vallabrègues - Arles, 37 mi. (60 km)
Day 6: Arles - Aigues Mortes, 15 mi. (25 km)
Day 7: Aigues Mortes, round tour, 34 mi. (55 km)
Day 8: Departure from Aigues Mortes

I'm retired. I need my sleep, Bird Brain.

4:13 in the morning.  I'm asking myself what I've done to contribute to this situation.  I can't sleep any longer since I woke up, or should I say "was awakened," 30 minutes ago.  I feed them, give them a place to drink and to bathe, and my reward is being awakened at least two hours before I want to get up.  Birds.  Yes, birds.

They seem to be everywhere right now and acting crazy.  I know it is mating season, but really, Mr. Robin, can't you give it a break?

 Or move it down the road a bit?  Why do you insist on sitting outside my window when you are strutting your stuff?  Why are you singing your little heart out at 3:43 AM!?  I doubt that Ms. Robin is even awake, and if she isn't, I don't see how she can appreciate your song WHEN YOU WAKE HER UP.

The House Wrens are building a nest in the nest box in the garden, but they have the decency to keep down the noise at least until after I wake up, or maybe I just can't hear them as loudly since they are IN THE GARDEN, not outside my window.

 The Chickadees, who seem to be making a home for themselves in the little green roofed house on the fence, KEEP TO THEMSELVES.

Is it the worms that you eat?  Maybe digging up all of the moss I am trying to grow between my garden stepping stones is just too much for you.

Sleep a little longer and eat the nice seeds I leave for the other birds.  This is a deal you can't refuse.  Capisce?

My Good Dog

I didn't even want him....now I don’t know how life will be without him.  Tomorrow a home veterinary service will come to our house.  The veterinarian will anesthetize my beloved Chapi and then give him a large enough dosage of something to stop his heart.  I tell myself I am doing the best for him as I have tried to do for almost 17 years.  I tell myself I am not doing this for my own convenience but because I love him so much that I can let him go.  I sure as hell hope I am right.

Almost 17 years ago, my husband started hinting about getting a dog.  He kept telling me about these cute puppies that he had seen that day at work and I kept ignoring the hints.  We worked, we traveled, how could we care for a dog?  In a moment of weakness I asked him if he wanted to “go look at puppies.”  I learned that day that you don’t just “go look at puppies.”  You see them and one of them somehow worms his way into your heart in a way you never thought possible.  On the ride home, you bond and you never look back.  At least that’s the way it was with our little, white, fluffy and very energetic Chapi.

Now that he is our geriatric Chapi, he doesn’t buzz around the house anymore running around the dining room table, the kitchen, the living room and then back around the dining room table.  In fact, he can’t even stand up long enough to do his business.  So for the past several months I’ve been walking him while holding up his back end with various home-made contraptions and now a store bought harness that isn't nearly as pretty, but much more effective, than what I had designed.

I thought that he would one day actually talk to me.  His fluffy white face and big black eyes were so expressive.  Friends and strangers often remarked that he looked like he was going to say something.  In my dreams, he sometimes talks, but I never remember what he said.  Maybe that is best.

He walked on his back legs and sort of danced whenever we came home and sometimes just to show off.  Surely this has nothing to do with the condition of those same legs today?

Chapi never realized that he was a white dog.  So many times I came in the front door to find him greeting me with his big smile....and barbecue sauce, or coffee grinds, or whatever he had gotten into that day all over his white face.  You can't hide it, I would tell him, but he never changed.  

We were going to be good dog parents and set limits.  We set up a box for him to sleep in and put a ticking clock inside to trick him into thinking he wasn't alone.  That lasted less than 30 minutes and then there he was in the bed with us where he was to stay for the rest of his nights.  I loved when it was time to turn off the lights because he would literally throw himself—all 15 pounds—onto the pillow between us.  This was HIS place until just a few years ago when he slowly started moving to the end of the bed, or to one side of me, but not to the pillow.  I’m not sure why, but that gave me great pain.

He was my alarm clock for most of his life.  If he thought I wasn't awake yet, he would move closer to have a look.  Eventually I could feel his breath on my face as he inched closer and closer to figure out why I wasn't ready to get up and go for our walk.  Sometimes I played tricks on him and would pretend to sleep until his nose was almost touching mine.  When I opened my eyes, or even one eye, he would attack!  Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!

My Velcro baby.  He had to be right by my side.  He had to know where I was at all times even in the bathroom.  If I closed the door, I knew I would hear his sniffing under the door.  He loved running for a toy and bringing it back.  He loved sitting at the living room window and keeping watch on the neighborhood.  When we would return home after his bed time, I’d look up at the window.  Just as he heard the car in the driveway, I’d see his head pop up from the nice nap he was taking and see him jump off the couch.  He would be at the door before we had the key in the lock.

He was a major flirt who would literally throw himself on the lap of anyone nearby.  If there were multiple visitors, he would take turns on each lap.  It didn’t matter if you were a “dog person” or not.  He was a “people person” and determined to win you over.  You WOULD make room for him.  He never questioned that.

He loved being in the picture.  Or maybe he just wanted to be with us, but if anyone brought out a camera there he would be.  I’d like to say he loved the clothes I put on him for the holidays, but at least I don’t think he hated them.  One day he was a beach bum, the next Santa Claus.  My favorite was his Harley Davidson denim vest.  He was my model when I made a Christmas outfit for my Aunt’s shih tzu.  It made me laugh when I said to him, “watch out for the pins,”….the words my mom always said to us when she was sewing….

His life changed a lot when we brought Indy home.  “I’m an only child,” he seemed to say.  What is HE doing here?  There were words, barked very loudly.  There were looks that seemed to convey that he would tolerate this guy, but don’t ask me to be his friend.  I’m not sure how it is going to play out when Chapi is gone.

A friend gave me a book recently, Going Home by Jon Katz.  It helped me in so many ways, but most importantly it assured me that our pets live in the moment and don’t fear death as we do.  But they rely on us to make the hard decision to put them at peace.

Sunday we took Chapi for a “walk” in Old Town, but this time he was in a borrowed baby buggy.

Just like when he was a fluffy puppy, everyone who passed made over him.  I think he enjoyed the time in the sun and being made over once again.

As I sit here, I wish again that Chapi could say something to me.  In my dream he is telling me it is okay and that he loves me for making the decision to let him go.

Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears,

but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you..

Remember that I did not fear...

It was just leaving you that was so hard to face...

We cannot see Beyond...

But this I know:

I love you so - 'twas heaven here with you!

         By "Isla Paschal Richardson"