The Adventures of Ross Thomas

French whispers...a voice meloidically purrs
through the speakers I adorn.
Euphoric drops of joy seen through
the eyes of my friend...Sihanoukville.
Barracuda splash...the Gulf of Thailand
my plate.
Village smiles, purity sans teeth.
Dive deep, bathwater bubbling...
subtle drips of the coconut kiss,
alone in paradise...magic, bliss.

RT
2008

When the time came to leave picturesque Hoi An, I chose to fly to Hanoi rather than brave another 16 hour bus ride. The closest airport to Hoi An is in Danang. Danang was never on my "to do" list, so I am glad I was able to see it due to my flight. I purchased an airline ticket with Jetstar Pacific for $50. The flight to Hanoi is only one hour by plane and definitley worth the extra bucks. I was pleasantly impressed that for a budget airline Jetstar Pacific was actually quite posh. The pilot was Australian and guaranteed us a quick and easy flight to the capital of Vietnam.

Upon arrival in Hanoi, I hired a mini-bus full of Vietnamese locals for just 3 dollars to the center "Old Quarter" of town. Hanoi is another bustling metropolis in the North of Vietnam. If Saigon is the bad ass concrete jungle of the South, then Hanoi is it's wicked/rad step brother in the North. Not quite as massive as Saigon, but still smashed with people and activity in it's own right, Hanoi will knock you on your socks if you are not careful.

I told the driver that I was heading to a hostel called "Hanoi Backpackers", but I am sure he had no idea what I said. He just nodded, mumbled and hit the gas. After an hour we arrived in the Old Quarter, but no where near my hostel. In anticipation of an argument with the driver, I chose the pacifist route, got out and hoofed it to find the place on my own. Much to my surprise, the Old Quarter was blocked off by military personel and the streets leading to the hostel were barracaded by men in green uniforms toting M-16's. Apparently the Catholic Church was demanding that the government hand back a 2.5 acre lot in Central Hanoi worth millions of dollars. Church leaders and their followers in Hanoi were gathered to pray in front of the old Vatican embassy,
one of many church properties taken over by the government after 1954. I tried to explain to the men in uniform that the hostel I was to stay in was inside of their blockade. The men made a gesture toward their beat sticks and I took that as my cue to go chill out for a while until the protest subsided.

Finally, after a couple hours and 3 Trung Ngyuen coffees, the activity calmed and I was able to get to the hostel. Hanoi Backpackers was famous amongst the Southeast Asia backpacker circuit. People all the way back in Laos raved about the popular spot and recommeded it as a "must stay". I pulled up to the hostel and was overwhelmed by the flurry of activity surrounding it's exteriror. There were people EVERYWHERE...from all over the world. It was as if there were only one place for travelers to stay in Hanoi (which there is not, there are many). Music blared from the windows accompanied by raucous laughter and the clinking of beer pints. I walked in the front door and people were literally swinging from the chandeliers. I ducked and dived my way through the masses and made it to reception. Reception at this place consisted of a wild group of heavy set Aussies chanting victory songs to the rugby match that played on the big screen behind them. "G'day mate!!" a man named Richie exlaimed. "Hi there, I am looking for a room", I replied. "Ha! That's a good one mate!...no rooms here...just dorms full of the best of the best", re replied. It's no wonder everyone loved this place, you were forced to make friends living in shared accomodation. The dorms were co-ed and serviced about 25. Richie gave me the grand tour (the place has 3 buildings, 2 bars, a rooftop deck with bar, two restaurants, free internet, laundry facility, a screening room and 10 floors of dorms) and showed me to my bunk. I was #26 on the top bunk staying next to a couple English girls and a rad Dane named Thomas. Thomas was from Copenhagen and immediately guessed me for a Dane. He couldn't believe that despite my Danish roots, I couldn't speak a lick. I had 10 seconds to throw my bag in a locker and get my ass up to the rooftop bar for BBQ night. BBQ night happened every Friday and was the meeting place for the whole hostel community. We walked upstairs and the place was JUMPING! 75 cent Hanoi Beer and bugers got the night off to a great start. It took me all of 5 minutes to make friends. Everyone comes right up to you and is eager to know your name and travel tales. Around midnight we left the hostel and headed to "Finnigans" (a rocking Irish bar) in the old district. In order to keep track of everyone and stay in one group, reception passed out these really cheesy sombreros. I was in hysterics watching about a hunderd of us trompsing down the back alleys of Hanoi in Mexican hats. The police shut things down early in Hanoi and that is when the real party starts. There are 4 famous "speakeasys" in town that a select few know about. Our group leader led us in a motorcycle gang through the streets of Hanoi. We looked like the Hell's Angels roaring down the cobblestones. We arrived in a black alley that looked like a ghost town. It was so quiet that it hurt your ears. There was a black door with a garbage can in front of it and Richie walked right up and banged his fist on it 3 times and the 1 double knock. Thirty seconds later a Vietnamese man opened the door and Richie said some kind of code word in Vietnamese. The guy gave a smile and waved us in quickly before slamming the door and locking it's bolt. We were led up a long stairway that led to another secret passage that finally led into a giant bar pumping with music! Libations were slung to everyone and the party kicked off. You didn't have a choice if you wanted to leave...everyone there had to stay until the end, which was about 5 a.m. This was a lock-up party and if you weren't in, you were out. We danced the night away on top of the tables and sang really shitty 90's music at the top of our lungs. This was a long way away from Cam Kim Island.

The following morning I awoke to the bullhorn from downstairs: "banana pankcakes...come and get em while they're hot!" All of us hostelians munched pancakes, drank really bad Nescafe and traded stories from the night before. I had a new great crew and the excitement was just beginning. That day I explored the city in all it's glory and took in the usual toursit attractions and museums. I had polled many people on what to do whilst staying in Hanoi. Everyone I talked to highly recommened the three day boat trip to Halong Bay. Hanoi Backpackers had a deal through their hostel where you could sign up for 3 days and 2 nights on a fancy mini cruise ship in Halong Bay. The trip consisted of cruising the 1,969 magnificent Halong Bay Islands, kayaking, rock climbing, trekking, lounging and partying on the boat. Food, accomodation and equipment was all provided within the price. Usually there are about 15 people who sign up per trip ("3 day" trips leave everyday) and there is a maximum of 26 who can go at once. The more people who go, the better the time. I lucked out and was the 26th person to sign up. We were picked up at the hostel bright and early the next morning and once again forced to wear the stupid sombreros. We were herded off to the bus for our three hour journey to Halong City. Once we arrived in Halong City we were met by our Vietnamese guide and also one of the Aussie guys who runs the hostel. The guides gave us the low down on the trip and we were all electric with excitement. I was surprised at how fancy the boat was. I had never heard the term "junk" used when referring to a boat, so I just thought it was going ot be a crappy vessel. It turns out that they cal all the boats "junks" in Halong Bay and they are all gorgeous. We were split up into twos and shown to our cabins (which were swanky and all had there own bathrooms and hot showers).

The boat cruised into the bay and we all gathered for a multi course meal on white table cloth with fine china and silverware. We were served fare of fresh seafood, mixed with traditional Vietnamese fusion. The wine flowed and we hugged each other to the excitement of our good fortune. The nights were filled with live music, card games and skinny dipping. If you had one too many toddys, you probably dropped your droors and did flips off the top of the boat into the raven sea water below. My friend Josh was Aussie and a hell of guitarist and singer. He wailed on the acoustic and we had Jack Johnson sing alongs swaying to the beat. Life was good.

The following morning we were awoken early to take on the adventures of the day. If you have never seen or heard of Halong Bay, you absolutely must "google" it and check it out. The place is borderline untouched (minus the tourist boats like ourselves) and there are stunning limestone islands for as far as the eye can see. The select few who had chosen to pay the extra money to do the rock climbing (myself included) left on a separate boat for the day. Those who remained floated around on Kayaks and lounged their hang overs on the beach. The real men/women sweat the booze out on the rock! We were introduced to a man named Tim, who was to be our climbing guru. Tim was an absolute LEGEND and there should seriously be a movie made about his life story. This guy could definitely hold a torch or two to Bear Grills on Man vs. Wild. He was originally from Sacramento, but had lived in damn near all 50 states. When he was 25 he gutted his mini van, filled it with rock climbing gear and set off to conquer as many rocks as he could in as many states as he could, not stopping for 6 years. He was 37 years old now but didn't look it at all and his forearms were the size of my quads. His uncle brought him to Vietnam 4 years ago on holiday and he never left. Instead, he found a business partner and discovered the untapped resource that is the Halong Bay wicked, jagged limestones. Surprisingly, no one had attempted to climb these massive faces and certainly no one had tried to make a buck at it. Tim, however, was able to see a good oppurtunity when it was knocking. He teamed up with a Vietnamese entrepreneur and created the one and only rock climbing outfit in Vietnam. If you think thats neat, wait until you hear this: It took him 3 years of obtaining the proper permits from the government and who knows how much money, but he was able to buy his own limestone island that has a pristine, idyllic white sand beach nestled near an aqua blue sea cove. He built a fort from scratch and what ever natural resources were on the island and that is where he lives year round. Tim lives all alone, in a badass hut, on his own island in the middle of paradise. That should be a movie. "Doesn't he get lonely?", you might be asking yourself. Well according to him, he has it just right: everyday he gets a new group of brave Westerners attempting the jagged faces that he has mastered. He makes friends, climbs, laughs and when the sun goes down and the group leaves, he has a fish dinner and falls asleep on his hammock to the peaceful sounds of the sea. "Well what about a love companion?", you might be asking yourself. According to Tim (and I won't give full details), he has it just perfect: he goes back to Halong City and Hanoi to get supplies every once and a while and when he does he sees his "multiple" girlfriends. Ask me about Tim in person and I can give you the full download on this wild legend. With Tim's instruction, we geared up and spent the day climbing to heights that exceeded 80 ft. If you fell, you had Tim below on belay and the worse that would happen is you would slam into the side a bit when you swung. We were challenged to 4 major faces, ranking in difficulty from moderate to extremely advanced. Tim said only one in 10 amateurs who attempt number four ever make it to the top. I spent hours trying to beat that statistic. By the time I threw the towel in, my hands were bleeding profusely and my forearms throbbed. I had been inches from making the top of the most advanced cliff but fell right as the sun was going down. I am now addicted to rock climbing and plan to take up the sport when I get back to the States.

My time spent in Halong Bay was worth every penny and the friends I made will forever be indispensable. Just another day, just another paradise

I arrived back in Hanoi and had two more good days/nights with my crew at the hostel. We went out for lavish dinners that cost 5 bucks each and braved all types of new fare. I think my favorite was the grilled sparrow glazed in sweet pork fat. A couple crazys at the table braved the grilled dog cabobs (much to my dismay). I spent my remaining days taking photos, drinking coffee and cruising the city. Hugs were exchanged and a few tears were shed and once again we were all going separate ways.

On Septemeber 25th, I boarded an AirAsia flight bound for Bangkok. I decided that for the last week of my trip, I would pick one spot and just stay there and chill out for a solid amount of time. Racking my brain, I remembered that Koh Tao, Thailand was supposed to be one of Southeast Asia's most revered spots for diving. I had always wanted to get my scuba certification and thought what better place to do it than in tropical paradise. Koh Tao was notorious for perfect visibilty up to 40 meters and was rich with tropical sea life. In addition, people came from all over to see the massive whale sharks which cruised the popular dive spots. I arrived in Bangkok, took a taxi directly to Lomprayah (a bus/boat service to Koh Tao) and 16 hours later, once again arrived in paradise. Koh Tao is GORGEOUS and has a lot in common with Gili Trawangan. I signed up with the biggest and best outfit on the island, "Big Blue". If you dove with "Big Blue", it would cost you a pretty penny, but you would be doing it the right way with the best of the best. Also, when you dive with "Big Blue" you get to stay in your own beach front bungalow for only 200Baht a night. I was in bungalow #2 and had an amazing view of the ocean and islands.

After a 2 hour disco nap I headed off to the classroom to meet my instructor and fellow dive mates. I totally lucked out and was put into a group of only 4 with the school's best veteran instructor, "Rick Rickerson". Rick was another "Tim" living on Koh Tao for the last 5 years. He is an American from Wisconsin and Hawaii who originally came to Koh Tao on a backpacking trip (like myself) and never left. He never intended on diving in the first place, but through peer pressure he made the plunge. He has never looked back since, labeling himself as a "dive junkie".

We had our first day of classes and I have to be honest...I was overwhelmed. I thought this was going to be a walk in the park, but it turned out to be quite a bit of studying. You had to buy a 250 page text book and have the whole thing read in a day and half. If we weren't reading or taking exams, we were in the ocean being tested in underwater emergency skills and neutralization techniques. Of course all of us newbies had anxiety about the ever so feared "bends" and DCS (decompression sickness), but we got over that quite quick. The underwater world seduced us into it's womb and soon enough, we as well were hooked! Scuba diving is SENSATIONAL!! If I had known I would enjoy this activity as much as I do, then I would have gotten certified a long time ago! You feel like an astronaut floating weightless on another planet as strange and beautiful creatures swim right up to your mask. There was one particular fish that pissed me off a bit. The "feeder wrasse" oddly enough is attracted to ear wax. You descend way down deep, gliding gracefully amongst the fish, when all the sudden you feel something swim into your ear canal and start nipping away. It took all of my patience and calming techniques not to suck all my air when screaming at these little pests 60 ft. under water. Aside from the feeder wrasse though, the underwater world in Thailand is mind blowing! Ten underwater tests, four quizzes and one final examination later, I was a certified PADI open water diver!

I had become great friends with Rick and my fellow dive peers. By the way, just a side note: the four others taking the course with me were 3 American girls and one Danish girl. 4 girls and me. Awesome. We all celebrated our certification and spent the rest of the week swimming and lounging, eating and exploring. When the fiery orange sun would dip below the horizon, the lovely smell of fresh fish BBQ would permeate the air. We spent long 3 hour dinners telling life stories and laughing. It felt so good to just be somewhere completely relaxed and zenned out. After 2 months of break neck speed travel throughout Southeast Asia, Koh Tao was the perfect recipe to end with a bang.

I am now back in the buzz of Bangkok and confronting the rude reality of my less than 48 departure back to the U.S. I am spending my remaining time hitting the markets and eating as much as possible. The City of Angels beckons and my curiosity of re-entry soars. la-gon, lao jer gun & chok dee for now.

Your Traveling Adventurer,
Ross

"Mr. Ross Thomas?" "Yes, that's me", I said to an elderly Vietnamese man with a limp. "Your bus Hoi An, you come", he said. That was my cue to follow him to the bus station where I would pick up my over night sleeper to Hoi An. Hoi An was going to be a bit farther than the ride from Saigon to Nha Trang. I was in for the long haul. I grabbed my pack and followed the leader. Upon arrival at the station I was surprised to see that this particular bus was assembled differently than the one I had ridden prior. The last sleeper bus was very comfortable and spacious and you could lay completely flat whilst catching some zzz's. Ngyuen Bus Line was geared as a sleeper bus but obvioulsy built for the small frame of a Vietnamese person. I took one look at my assigned seat and thought to myself, "this is a joke right....they can't be serious, there is no way I am fitting in this chair/bed". I leaped up and attempted to wedge myself in. My knees jutted into my chest and my toes bent backwards. This was not going to work. I noticed in the very front of the bus there were two chairs that were significantly bigger than the rest. I immediately beckoned the driver and pleaded my case: "sir I am obviously a fat kid, cause there is no way I am fitting in that chair for 13 hours to Hoi An". Through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke he sputtered something in raspy Vietnamese. "akhshdfhohfwoi 10,000 dong" is pretty much how it sounded. The guy obviously wanted 10,000 dong for my move to the bigger chair. "C'mon, c'mon...look at these long legs and big belly", I laughed. Sure enough, through the use of humor and a smile I was able to convince the man to give me the upgrade free of Dong.

It wasn't 3 hours into the bus ride that we drove directly into the heart of a wicked rainstorm. Violenty, the bus bounced back and forth as the driver tore through the cliffside dirt roads. I was yanked out of my sleep and shocked to see the almost zero visiblity windshield being pounded by rain. I peered to the back of the bus and all passengers were wide-eyed and nervous. The storm continued for another hour or so and finally subsided. Phew...back to sleep. Not! The driver, much to the dismay of all of us passengers cranked up the stereo as loud as it would go and blared Vietnamese love songs. We all looked at each other in shock and horror...this was supposed to be a peaceful sleeper, not a mobile Vietnamese dance party. "Excuse me, sir, uh...do you think you can just pop the volume down there a bit?" I asked politely. "sjhsfpoihfpwehfuh", he said and lit a cigarette. "Okay then", I thought..."there's not going to be any sleeping on this one". My I-Pod conveniently croaked and I lost one ear plug. "Welp, Vietnamese love songs it was...might as well embrace it", I thought. 5:30 a.m. I had somehow fallen asleep. Then: HONK HONK HONK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is the common method for defensive driving in Vietnam. Driver lays on horn. Person gets out of driver's way, or driver runs person over. Guess this was our wake up call. We finally arrived in Hoi An at 7:00 a.m.

Southeast Asia as a whole has gone above and beyond all of my wildest expectations. I have, however, had a few very special favorites along the way. If you can recall, I loved LOVED Gili Trawangan & Ubud in Indonesia and Bokeo and Luang Prabang in Laos. Now, those four towns would have some stiff competition. Hoi An is a picture perfect fantasy town right off the illustrious pages of a fairy tale book. Golden french architecture melds with quaint storefronts and art galore. Adorned by the country's most prolific and celebrated tailors, the town sits nestled where the Thu Bon River meets the South China Sea. Take a bicycle and get lost in the labrinyth of lovliness and you will be smitten by the people and energy of this fasciating town. Acitvity is alive as artisans dig deep within the soul to produce love made product ala Vietnamese flare. Bridges and cobblestones link one treasure after another. Traditional cone head hats bob up and down through the bustling marketplace. Deep fragrances of fish and salt blend with the hot and humid air, thick with taste. Melodic music drowns through the street speakers giving the casual stroller a reason to continue. A 4km jog will have you breathing in the South China sea. White sand, hot sun, island views and thatched beach bungalows to rest your mind. Let your taste buds loose on the divine Vietnamese fare, unique to Hoi An. Cao Lau beckons the foodie to indulge in it's flurry of flavor. It's no wonder with it's old world charm and mystical beauty, Hoi An was declared a "World Heritage Site" by UNESCO. The magic of Hoi An can only truly be experienced firsthand. A 100% must do in Southeast Asia!

What I am now about to share with you will go down as one of my top "authentic, local, off the beaten track" experiences that I have had on this entire trip. Yes, there has been wild jungles and hill tribes and secluded islands and one great experience after the next, but I never anticipated a happening like this. It was an experience that others may never understand or relate to, but for me, it was exactly what I was in search of. Just to give you a bit of insight into what I seek out as an adventure traveler/student of life: I am not in search of the tourist track, I do not desire to be with other Westerners amongst big groups facilitated by tour guides...this is not me. Rather, I seek out the true authenticity that lives deep in the heart of the unknown. I prefer to find myself amongst natives who do not expect to see my kind, who are not subject to the saturation of modern tourism and it's effect on their culture and ways. This is the experience I seek out. Mind you, I do not seek this out as spectacle; to sit mouth-open, marveling at these interesting beings who I know nothing about, no. On the contrary, I wish to be a respectful observer, hopeful for wisdom and insight. In a world that is ever adapting to the 21st century and it't technological, mass producing, consumeristic ways, the "old ways" and "ancient peoples" are disappearing slowly. To find myself in a situation amongst these type of peoples, alone, would be ideal.

I arose early in the morning, heart set on a big adventure. After conversing with the locals down at the dock, it was clear "Cam Kim Island" was as off the beaten track as you could get around these parts. Most tourists take day trips to My Son of Cham Island. These trips are organized with boats and buses and guides and frequented by many. Cam Kim Island however was not on anyone's "to do list". There were no restaurants, no watering holes, no fancy pagodas or real tourist draws. What there was, however, was a community of Vietnamese living and working in the "old way". It took me a while to figure it out, but finally after some sign language and smiling, I was able to convince a local boat (filled with Vietnamese people, pigs, goats and chickens) to take me and my motorcyle on the 20 minute journey across the river to the island (yes, it is an island off the river, not ocean). During the lengh of the entire boat ride there were 20 pairs of eyes staring at me in confusion. I told a couple of bad jokes to loosen the mood but no one budged. Pretty soon the barge reached the island and I hopped on my motorcycle and drove it off the boat. Now here I was, away from the crowds on this giant island. I had no map, no idea, no clue. I figured I would just take out my camera and head off for an adventure.

The island wafted with smoke and vegetation was thick on every angle. There were no "real" roads, just passageways and dirt roads leading to who knows where. I ended up in the middle of the island and was blown away at the beauty that lay before me. There were giant rice fields for as far as the eye could see and they were full of Vietnamese in traditional work attire with the straw coned hats. Fire raged (a means of making fertile ground) and everyone was busy at work. Even the 80 year old women were in the field bent over pulling and yanking, rowing and weaving, churning and burning. Little kids ran wild and also had some sort of chore, whether watching the little ones or tending to the kitchen. I continued to get lost amongst the vegetation and the locals stared in wonderment as to my business on their island. To ensure that I was respectful and came in peace, I made sure to say "Xin Chao" and "Cam On" (hello and thank you).

As the day wore on the sun beat well over 90. The humidity was pulling at my strength and I felt dehydrated and hungry. I remembered that there were no restaurants and was mad at my naiveity for not bringing a sandwich and some water. I had not idea where I was. All the roads looked alike and I couln't figure out from which direction I had come. As I continued to drive I found myself at a very narrow inlet that led down a passageway full of thick mud with bamboo on either side. "Hmmm", I thought. "This looks like an interesting route". I wondered if my moto would get stuck in the mud but gave it a go anyway. I plunged forward and mud sprayed. I ended up jutting out into the front yard of a local Vietnamese family. Oops. I looked up and there was an entire family (mom, dad, aunties, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers, sisters, brothers, cats, dogs, chickens and pigs) staring at me. "I am so sorry...didn't mean to invade your privacy...I was actually just looking for place to eat and get some water...so sorry", I said. They just looked at me puzzled and I am sure had no idea what I had just said. Before I could turn my motorcycle around I heard a yell coming from inside the house. A woman emerged and grabbed me off of my moto and pulled me into her home and sat me at a stoop in the living room. There was loud, frantic Vietnamese being spoken and I didn't know if I was in trouble or what was going on. I just kept apologizing and saying, "I go now". The woman snapped out of Vietnamese and spoke in broken English (the only one in the family who could speak a bit of English). "You look for food", she said. "You wait, you wait", and then she took off to the back of the house. As I sat there smiling the whole family stared at me and exchanged words in their language and laughed and pointed. I was looking for an ice breaker...had no idea what was going on but was enjoying the rush. I looked up and I shit you not, there was a poster of Britney frickin Spears on wall. Who knows how Britney ended up on a wall here. I laughed and pointed and said, "awww Britney, can't seem to get away from you...even all the way over here on Cam Kim Island in Vietnam". Everyone laughed. The elders pulled out some "beetle-nut" (beetle nut is some sort of root/drug that the elders always have in their mouths and stains their teeth a deep reddish black). The next thing I knew the woman came out of the back the with biggest platter of traditional Vietnamese cuisine (7 courses to be exact). With a huge smile, she set the platter down in front of me and said, "please...eat". I couldn't believe it....here I was all the way over on Cam Kim Island, completely lost and accidentally in the living room of a local family and they were serving me a 7 course meal! I ate for an hour and we sang songs (or I tried to mimic them rather) and laughed. The elders would say something to me and the woman would translate. We shared stories of our families and our pasts and they were the nicest most generous people I had come across over here. Finally I decided I needed to go before it was dark (had to figure out a barge back to Hoi An). I offered money but they would not accept. We had a hug and I bowed my head in respect and gratitude.

I rode back, emotional and thankful for the day's events. This is what it was all about and I will never forget the experience for as long as I live.

In case you were curious as to my title for this particular blog: "Dong" is the name of the Vietnamese currency. In Vietnam you can really get some ding for your dong...America, not so much bang for your buck

When we left off last, I had just done the grand tour of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). Despite still being sick that day, I had to get out and explore the city. Being an American, I felt it was my duty to pay my respects to the war museums and sites. My first stop was the War Remnants Museum. The War Remnants museum is a major tourist attraction in HCMC and was first open to the public in 1975. It has gone through a variation of names, such as "Museum of American War Crimes" & "War Crimes Museum". This museum in no way attempts to show "two sides of the story". In fact, walking through the entire museum is like walking through a massive propaganda stage that lights the Americans in the worst possible way. There are horrific pictures of torture and violence and all fingers point to the American. In addition, there is a whole section of the museum dedicated to Agent Orange and the atrocities it caused. I had never directly seen the effects of Agent Orange...what a horrible chemical defoliant! There very graphic pictures of agent orange victims, showing bodies deformed and mangled. The whole experience made me feel a bit ashamed and vulnerable as I was the only American in the museum. ***From Wikipedia: The museum comprises a series of eight themed rooms in several buildings, with period military equipment located within a walled yard. The military equipment include a UH-1 "Huey" helicopter, an F-5A fighter, a BLU-82 "Daisy Cutter" bomb, M48 Patton tank, and an A-1 attack bomber. One building reproduces the so-called tiger cages in which the South Vietnamese government housed political prisoners. Other exhibits include graphic photographs, accompanied by short copy in English, Vietnamese and Japanese, covering the effects of Agent Orange and other chemical defoliant sprays, the use of napalm and phosphorus bombs, and atrocities such as the My Lai massacre. Curiosities include a guillotine used by the French and the South Vietnamese to execute prisoners, last in 1960, and three jars of preserved human fetuses deformed by exposure to dioxin.

After leaving the museum I needed a little change of pace. I asked my driver to take me to the Ben Thanh Market. The Ben Thanh market is a blustering flurry of buying and selling. One must not be easily agitated to brave these markets! When you walk in the door (it is the size of Arco Arena in Sac) you get bum-rushed by merchants. "SIR!! What are you looking for?! What do you Like?! What do you need!? You buy this , you buy that!! Not only are they screaming at you, they are grabbing you by the arms and pulling you into their shops. Talk about stressful anxiety prone shopping...no one could take their time and browse in a place like this. This is now my 4th big market in Southeast Asia, so I am used to the craziness. I actually do it for sport now...go in wheel and deal and bicker back and forth with the sellers. The whole time I cannot help but laugh as I get yanked in all directions.

I finished shopping (didn't buy anything) and had a massive bowl of beef Pho. The Pho stands are everywhere, steaming with flavor in every bite. Next on my list was the Reunification Palace and the Fine Arts Museum. There is not much for me to write about with regard to these landmarks. I did not particularly enjoy them and was a bit bored with the displays. I got back to my guest house around 7pm and went straight to a travel agent to book some adventure.

The Cu Chi Tunnels tunnels were located about an hour outside of Saigon and were used by the Viet Cong Guerillas during the war. They consisted of a tremendous underground network of connecting tunnels. When the Americans were fighting the Viet Cong, they couldn't figure out where the hell they were all hiding. It turned out that they were all living and fighting out of this underground city of tunnels. The tunnels themselves are so tiny (the Vietnamese are very skinny small people) that Westerners can barely squeeze inside. I took a half day bus trip to the tunnels and had a very informative and action packed tour of the system. The most terrifying part was crawling (on your stomach, one elbow in front of the next) for 100 yards through the damp, dark, miniscule tunnels to reach the other end. There were 30 people in my group and only two of us were brave enough to make the crawl. The guide was serious when he warned us of the possiblity of scorpions and snakes. Myself and an Aussie guy gave each other a look of "here goes nothing" and set out to scour the tunnels. The light on my video camera gave us a bit of visibility in the otherwise pitch black tunnel. If you are even SLIGHTLY claustrophobic, then you would freak the fuck out!! I actually started to panic about three quarters of the way through...it felt like the tunnel was never going to end! Luckily I had my buddy behind me and we talked each other through the whole way. Finally, as we reached the end, we were greeted by the applause of our group. I was covered head to to in dirt and sweat. I high fived my Aussie friend and felt a great sense of accomplishment. Hats off to people who had to live and fight from these tiny little tunnels underground.

That night I chose to move on to my next destination, Nha Trang. I had heard about bus travel in Vietnam and these so called "sleeper buses". Basically, you pay a bit extra (a ticket is 15 dollars), but you board the bus at 7 pm and it gets you to your destination at 7 a.m. the next morning. The major selling point: the entire bus is gutted and re-built with three rows of upper and lower bunks. So you actually get to sleep FLAT on a bed! It was the quirkiest/funniest damn thing...travelers mixed in with Vietnamese all having a big moving slumber party. I laughed myself to sleep and woke up in beautiful Nha Trang, Vietnam.

Nha Trang is a popular destination. It has beautiful beaches, unbelievable snorkeling/diving, and a nice nightlife and dining scene. There is even an island lying off Nha Trang with a motorized chair lift system, that is supposed to be the longest in the world, linking the mainland to the five-star resort and theme park on the Island. I am staying in an awesome high rise hotel over-looking the ocean for just $8/night. I have a king size bed, hot water, TV, refrigerator and complimentary water and toiletries. I fell into this one and am super stoked on the room. I wake up to a gorgeous view of the South China Sea and have beautiful city scape to my left.

My days here have been spent lounging on the beach, swimming in the ocean and exploring the outer terrain. two days ago I ran into Iris and her two friends from Germany. We all went out for dinner and ran smack dab in to Ben and Matt (the two twin British brothers from Kent who I traveled all of Laos with). Traveling the Southeast Asian circuit is crazy...you are constantly running into people you met two or three countries ago. The world becomes so small in the backpacker scene.

The next day we decided to go on a big adventure outing to the world famous Thap Ba Hot Spring Center. These hot springs were renowned for there giant mineral infused mud pools, crystal clear mineral and sulphur hot springs, giant mineral pools, mineral waterfall, intense spray mineral treament and massuses. We asked around and everyone wanted to charge us 120,000 Dong just to get out there. Instead (against the local's advice) we opted for bicycle rentals for a dollar each. We got a map and took off to the outskirts of town. What was supposed to be a 5 KM bike ride turned into a 25KM bike ride that got us lost in the mountains of Nha Trang. Finally, after being lost the majority of the day, we found the hotsprings! This experience was INCREDIBLE. For hours we lounged in pools of thick, brown mineral mud. After the mud, you move onto the spray system, then the hot springs, then the pools, then waterfall and then more mud and hotsprings. Talk about health and rejuvenation!! There were people from all walks of life at the center taking in the wonderful minerals and baths. After a long day of soaking, we each got our own room with soft Asian Zen music playing in the background and got a full one hour massage. Post-massage, you melt in the steam room and then finish off with a icy cold mineral shower. The whole day at the center cost us $11 U.S.

Tonight, I am catching a sleeper bus to Hoi An. Hoi An is constantly talked about and is supposed to be one of the top spots in Nam. More to come when I get there. Cheers!

HONK! HONK!!!!!!! SLAM BAM SPLAT BAM BOOM BANG GRRR SPLASH SCHMAK BADABANG HONK HONK HONKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

Xin Chao Xin Chao! Co Khoe Khong!?

I am writing to you from a dingy little hole in the wall internet cafe on Bui Vien in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), Vietnam.

First and foremost, let's pick up where we left off. Last time I wrote, I had just arrived in Sihanoukville, Cambodia. Sihanoukville is on the Southern coast of Cambodia and is unlike any other beach town I have ever been to. Yes, it had the white sandy beaches and the crystal blue water, but there was something else to it...something a bit quirky. When I arrived I was overly excited to be in a beach town and was ready to jump into the action head first. I had heard so many good things and was itching to experience them for myself. Two British girls I had met in Phnom Pehn recommended a place in Sihanoukville called "Monkey Republic". If Monkey Republic had been as popular as the masses described, then I would need to be first off the bus before the place was booked solid. I hired a 16 year old boy to drive me on the back of his dirt bike for a dollar to Monkey Republic. Believe it or not, these tiny little Asian boys can actually balance your 75 pound backpack on their handle bars while you sit on back...quite impressive. When I hopped off my bike at Monkey Republic a gray-haired Brit came out to greet me. "Hello there lad", he said in a soft voice. "You are probably here for a room...but unfortnuately we are booked solid...you can try Mick & Craigs next door." I hung my head in dissapointment, but knew that Mick & Craig's was right next door, so I would still be close to the action. Sure enough, Mick & Craig's turned out to be a lot nicer with posh rooms for just 5 dollars a night. ***Note: traveling alone is always more expensive for accomodations than if you have someone to split the cost with***

I checked into Mick & Craig's, threw down my pack, and yanked on my board shorts. Before heading to the beach, I stopped off at Monkey Republic for some brekky. Southeast Asia makes a mean pancake breakfast and I take advantage almost every morning. Everywhere you go, if you order pancakes, they come laced with hot, fresh bananas and strawberries and pineapple, drizzled with pure honey and raw sugar. I ordered my usual, sat back in my chair and suckde in the fresh air. As I looked around Monkey Republic, I noticed that there were many Ex-Pat old white guys with VERY young Cambodian girls. This would become a regular site in Sihanoukville and quite disgusting if you ask me. My pancake came and it was the size of Cambodia. I gobbled it up and boogied down to ocean.

The beach at Sihanoukville is covered with beach bars and restaurants (more like wooden shacks with signs). In front of the establishments (they had names like "Moon Shack") were big lounge chairs with umbrellas where you could lay all day and get 4 dollar massages and drink fresh fruit shakes. For some reason I had it in my head that I would show up on the beach and there would be a bunch of Westerners bumming it up. Oh how I was wrong! It was actually the low season in this part of Cambodia...also known as the local season. The beach was packed to the brim with Cambodians on vacation. Most came down from Phnom Penh or other big cities and had to have some considerable wealth.

I made friends with a Cambodian shop owner nam Pom. Pom gave me the low-down on everything Sihanoukville and pointed me in all the right directions. As I sat on the beach reading my book, a blonde German girl named Iris came up and introduced herself to me. Iris was also traveling alone and was trying to make friends. She had been diving everyday with a Cambodian guide and was not meeting many English speaking people. She was over-joyed to see a Westerner like myself soaking up the rays. We hit it off immediately and got locked into a 6 hour "life story" conversation. **Just in case you are wondering...there were no romantic sparks between Iris and I...just good friends** It is so extraordinary to meet people from other parts of the world. Not only did Iris speak perfect English, but she also spoke French, Thai, Vietnamese and Portuguese. It made me wonder why Americans don't push learning foreign languages. We are one of the only countries who primarily just speaks English (pretty pig-headed if you think about it). After our long chat, I felt like I had known Iris for ages. That night we had a huge Barracuda filet with baked potato, rice and veggies for just 3 dollars! The fish were pulled in straight out of a net in the ocean and prepared right in front of you on a grill in the sand.

I spent the next two days/nights exploring Sihanoukville and it's wonderful beaches as well as talking to the locals and learning about their lifestyle. One lesson I have learned from these people that I would like to implement into my own life is that of "self-sustenance". Not that I would go to extremes, but I would like to learn to make things for myself and make use of the materials and food around me. These people are so clever with their clothes, food, accesories, housing etc. I guess when you are that poor you are forced to be creative.

After spending enough time in Sihanoukville, once again I decided to get off the beaten track. The coast was great, but I wanted some seclusion...somewhere native that hadn't been spoiled by tourism and the saturation of Westerners. I had heard of a unsullied island about an hour from the coast called Koh Russei or "Bamboo Island". Bamboo Island was home to 3 local families, (about 20 people) had one cafe and a group of bungalows for rent. It was literally tropical seclusion. I hired a ponga boat and 2 fish guides for 15 dollars. 15 dollars secured me my boat ride to the island, pick up for my return as well as the fishing. I was picked up early in the morning and served breakfast: one single baguette and some coffee. My driver dropped me off at the boat and I met my captain and fishing guides. I had to laugh when I saw my fishing guides: they were two twin Cambodian brothers about 13 years of age (and would turn out to be damn good fisherman). There were a couple other aussies going to the island as well, so I wouldn't be completely isolated from English. We stopped at a deserted island about 45 minutes into our trip. The twin brothers said something to me in Khmer, laughed and threw me a spear and goggles. We plunged into the blue and headed after dinner. It wasn't 10 minutes before we had speared some big barracuda and some other local fish (still can't pronounce the name). We brought our catch on board and continued on to the island. When we finally arrived, we were rushed by villagers who took our catch and began to stoke the grill on the beach. As I took in my new surroundings, I was awe-struck by the beauty of this natural wonder. This island was out of pirate novel...my imagination raced and I pretended as though I was an explorer discovering a new people for the first time. The locals welcomed us with open arms and made one hell of a fish dinner. The women of the family set up beautifully woven straw blankets on the beach where we would sit to eat our dinner. The men would sing ancient songs and strum some sort of instrument that resembled a guitar. As the sun went down over the horizon the loud crack of thunder rocked the tiny island. The locals ran for cover (as did we) and out of the no where the heavens weeped tears of joy. The pounding rain lasted for an hour or so. More impressive was the lightning display...never in my life have I seen such vivid bolts of electricty dance across the raven sky.

I am thankful to the local islanders for their generous hospitality on Bamboo Island and hope I can visit again and share with others.

I had to spend one more night at Mick & Craig's before catching the 13 hour bus ride to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam. Iris was gone when I returned from Bamboo Island and left a nice note with her email address. I was a bit sad that my new friend was gone, but was confident our paths would cross again. That night I decided to treat myself to a nice dinner. I had heard of world famous "Snake Pit" restaurant about 30 minutes outside of town. At this particualr restaurant, the tables you ate at were clear and full to the brim with live cobras and other deadly snakes. In addition, there was a huge pool in front of your table with live crocodiles lashing about. I jumped onto the back of a motorcycle and took off for the snake pit. When I arrived I was floored by how many creatures were caged up in the fancy restaurant. Every step you took there was some sort of live reptile staring you in the face. I was the only one in the restaurant and felt a bit lame having the experience alone (would be so much cooler if you all had been there). The food turned out to be extremely over-priced and not very good. I paid my tab, taunted to the croc and hopped back on the bike.

I wanted to get a good nights sleep as I was getting up very early for the bus. That night's sleep would prove to be the worst I have experienced on my trip thus far. I awoke after an hour sweating profusely, freezing cold, shivering, coughing, with a headache that felt like a Louisville Slugger to the head after each cough. I had come down with some serious illness and was up in agony all night. As dawn reached I packed my bag and headed to the bus station. Whatever I had was getting worse by the minute. I felt so sick I could harly stand. My head pounded worse than any migraine I had ever felt. I figured that I must have contracted Malaria...I had never felt these symptoms before. To top it all off, I was about to embark on a 13 hour PAINFUL bus ride from Sihanoukville, Cambodia to HCMC, Vietnam. I winged and winged the entire ride. I have to confess: after 4 hours into the ride...I was crying! I was in that much pain. I bit my pencil and called myself a pansy and told myself to "PULL IT TOGETHER!". When we finally arrived at the customs checkpoint in Vietnam I had decied that as soon as I got to Saigon I was going to straight to the hospital. The bus pulled in to HCMC around 8 pm and it was pouring cats and dogs. I got off the bus shaking and coughing, grabbed my pack and hailed the first cab I could get. Now my brain had to go from converting US Dollars into Riel to US Dollars into Vietnamese Dong. It's about 17,000 Dong to the dollar. I asked the cabbie if he knew where the hospital was. He didn't speak a lick of English and just said, "yes, yes". The guy started driving around and I looked at the meter and it said 400,000 Dong. There was no way I already racked up 400,000 Dong in meter fees. I asked him what the hell he was doing and again he said, "yes, yes". I was getting frustrated...I was sicker than a dog and tried and grumpy and needed a doc. "Let me out", I shouted. He looked at me and kept driving. I looked at the meter and it was ticking at the rate of a Rolex fasthand. I yelled louder and he finally pulled into a ghetto and stoppped the car. "I am not paying you that amount sir...you are ripping me off...I've heard of your kind", I said. He just yelled, "YES, YES...DONG, DONG!". I tride to give him five bucks and jump out but he hit the gas with my stuff still in the trunk. I had to grab the door and give into his BS. I gave him the bloody fare and got my pack and cursed. I ended up walking the streets of Saigon in the pouring rain looking for a doctor. Luck finally led me to a Western Clinic that was open 24 hours. I met with a Vietnamese (English speaking) doctor who said that my temperature was through the roof. He assured me that I didn't have Malaria but that I did have a bad case of the flu. He gave me 5 prescriptions and told me to stay in bed for at least 3 days. I told the doctor about the cabbie and he agreed I got taken. He said he would call me a legitimate cab to get me to a guest house.

I finally arrived on Bui Vien (backpackers budget part of town), got a single room, took my meds and hit the hay. The codeine and paracetemol had already helped a bit and I ended sleeping okay. The next morning I woke up still feeling horrible. I took the doctors advice and stayed in bed ALL day (a rarity for an ADD adventurer like myself). I got a knock on my door at about 7pm. "Who the hell could that be", I thought? Well wouldn't you know it...it was IRIS! I had written here an email telling her where I was and that I was sick and blah blah and how was she etc. It just so happenened that she was now in Saigon as well and had gotten my email and turned up at my guest house to bring me hot soup and a milkshake. It made me feel so good to see a familiar face. What a wonderful friends Iris was to go to the effort to track me down and bring me soup and a shake in Saigon when I was sick. We hung out for a bit, watched a movie and then she went back to her guest house. I thanked her profusely and gave her a big hug.

Today I am finally feeling a bit better. I still have the headache and cough but it is diminishing a bit. I told myself I could manage a motor bike tour of Saigon. I hired a motorbike driver for 10 dollars for the day. I told him I wanted to see The War Remnants Museum, The Reunification Palace, The Fine Arts Museum, Ben Thanh Market, Dong Khoi and finally end for a late lunch at Pho 2000 (pictures of President Clinton eating here all over the wall).

Braving the streets of Saigon on the back of a motorbike is like a James Bond action flick come to life. We are talking full on 100% adrenaline rush as motorbikes and cars whiz by you centimeters from your arms and legs. The city is so loud with people and motors that you have to scream to talk to your driver. I have to say, I did enjoy the experience...it brought me to life and I felt like I was on the set of a Borne Identity film. City slickers in rice paddie hats screaming at you from all angles match cyclos bobbing up and down with hot Pho soup beaming at all angles.

More on the experience in Saigon later...running up a wicked internet tab. Talk soon....