Our guide here in Siem Reap, Sunny (1), picked us up this morning at 9:00am for our first tour here, to Angkor Wat.

Angkor Wat is reputedly the largest religious structure in the world at 400 acres. It was originally constructed in the eleventh century as a Hindu temple, and then transformed into a Buddhist one later in the century as a new king and the population moved to Buddhism.

We spent almost three hours at Angkor Wat. Sunny didn’t accompany us; rather, we were introduced to an archeologist and expert on the local temples who proceeded to give us the survey course in Angkor Wat. Neither Sally or I could understand his name, much less remember it. But he was earnest, intense and extremely knowledgeable. He was also completely relaxed with any questions we asked, no matter that he just got finished explaining that fact to us.

Pretty much all of the walls – thousands of feet worth – are covered with engravings that tell the various stories of old Khmer myths and the king’s victories. They are the usual stuff you see in old buildings – dancing girls, warriors, animals real and mythical.

Although it was crowded, we didn’t feel it was too crowded to enjoy. I was able to get many pictures with no one in them, but then you miss the scale of the place.

And many of the people themselves were interesting.

By the time we got back to the hotel, it was hot and we were tired. We went for lunch in the restaurant, then spent some time by our pool.

The Phum Baitang has a great afternoon tradition. The guests (or at least some of them) gather on the porch outside the bar and sit facing the sunset. A Mai Tai, a G&T and comfortable chairs at sunset – what more do your need?

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(1) We’ve had at least one other guide named Sunny on this trip, in a different country. Maybe two.

We entered Cambodia yesterday, Monday, and arrived at our dock in Phnom Penh around 7:00pm. The cruise director had announced earlier that we were free to leave the ship after dinner for a couple of hours, as long as we respected his 11:00pm curfew. While some of the other passengers planned to walk over to the nearby night market, we had a different plan with our little (1) group.

At someone’s suggestion (not mine), we decided to go to a rooftop bar for cocktails. Never mind that we had no idea where a rooftop bar in Phnom Penh was to be found, or even if there was one.

We never found a rooftop bar.

Albane and Andy decided that they could figure it out, so we all (!) climbed into a tuk tuk and they somehow got the driver to go to an address they found on the internet. The address turned out to be a nondescript building at the end of a dark alley, so we got back in the tuk and started driving again.

Every time we saw a tall building with bright lights, Albane would decide that was the rooftop bar and direct the driver – who spoke only Khmer (2) – in that direction. We finally disembarked in front of a place packed with people, some in cocktail dresses, and went in, certain it was our destination. After being led to, and walking through, an underground shopping center, we realized it was simply a casino, and there was no rooftop bar to be found.

We had our cocktails in the bar back on the Jahan.

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The next morning we said goodbye to our Swiss friends and the Jahan. As our flight wasn’t until 2:30, we were able to fit in a short morning tour of Phnom Penh. We were picked up by the usual guide-and-driver team and went off to see the sights.

The royal palace was pretty impressive. Cambodia still has a king, although he is apparently just a figurehead. The palace complex, where he actually lives (3), is a number of quite beautiful buildings.

From there we went to the national museum, which housed a lot of old Hindu and Buddhist statues, and which took us all of 15 minutes to walk through (4). And then a temple. The last part of the tour was to be the local market, but we’ve already seen too many local markets.

We prevailed upon the guide to show us some non-touristy things, and he finally lead us through some small alleys in a poor section of town. From there we went to the airport to fly to Siem Reap.

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(1) In addition to Elizabeth & Andy, Sally befriended another Swiss woman, Albane. Also lovely.

(2) Khmer is the language of the Khmer people, who are what we call Cambodians. We had English, German, French, Italian and Japanese amongst us, but no Khmer.

After yesterday’s sidecar tour and lengthy lunch, we deliberately planned nothing for today. We’ve been on the road for 18 days already, and sightseeing and hitting schedules needed a pause. So we slept in (relatively speaking), lounged around our spacious room apartment, and had a late breakfast. Which led to a late lunch.

Some of you may know that massages and massage parlors are very prevelant in Southeast Asia, far more than in the US or Europe. They’re also pretty inexpensive, again compared to the West. And it doesn’t get any cheaper than free: Sally’s had five massages so far, and I’ve had four (1). And all we’ve paid are the tips. Which probably totaled less than $50 for both of us, and we were generous (2).

Today, for instance, we each had a 30 minute foot and leg massage that was an amenity associated with how we booked our room. We both really enjoyed them (3), and both dozed off during the session. The two cost VND 1,260,000, or about $54. If you’ve ever checked out the pricing for massages in fancy hotels or resorts, you’ll know that is dirt cheap.

And just as the price at your local Massage Envy is much better than that at the Four Seasons Hotel, the price for a massage at a small place on the street is better than the Xuan Spa. You could pay as little as $10 or $12 for a 60 minute massage. Of course, the environment is unlikely to compare, and I can’t speak to the quality of the masseuse, but still.

Given our late lunch, Sally wasn’t up for dinner and just had some of the fruit in the room. Rather than try and get a recommendation from the concierge (who seemed to have a limited set of recommendations anyway), I went out and wandered around. I found a large concourse, sort of like a park only completely paved,

Dinner was at a restaurant on the concourse that served western food. And G&T seems universally available.

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(1) Not all have been a full hour, but still.

(2) We think.

(3) In contrast to the disastrous massage session on the Ginger.

In between our evening arrival here in HCMC (1) on Wednesday and our morning departure on Saturday we have two full days and only one scheduled tour: a motorcycle sidecar tour.

We were met at our hotel by Henry (2) who explained the process: we would ride with a driver (3) on the motorcycle with a sidecar attached, one of us in the sidecar and the other riding pillion (4). Guess who got the sidecar?

I had pictures of motorbike riders in earlier posts, and you undoubtedly noticed the face masks. The air in Hanoi is pretty bad, but it’s much worse here. A significant portion of bikers wear them. I saw people get out of cars and put on masks before walking away. I saw people working at their sidewalk stores wearing masks. So we were offered masks by Henry and took them. I’m not sure they are anything more than a placebo, although they probably help with the larger particulate matter. We only wore the masks while riding on the bike.

Henry followed us on his scooter, and gave us radios with earbuds so he could talk to us while we were riding. Although we were in the traffic, we really didn’t have the same experience as if we were riding a motor bike or scooter in the city. The sidecar bike is big, heavy, loud and not nearly as maneuverable as a normal bike. Still, we were in the thick of things, in the bike lanes, surrounded by the bikes swarming like flies around a discarded fruit.

But this was more than a ride, it was a tour. When he picked us up, Henry asked what we wanted to see. We pleaded ignorance, so he took us on his favorite itinerary. The first stop was the remnants of Saigon’s floating market. Like Bangkok and the other large cities in the region, the government doesn’t like these markets for lots of reasons, including health concerns and their generally unsavory appearance. The people live on their boats and spend a few days in Saigon selling, then they sail back down to the Mekong delta where they spend a few days buying product. Among other things, it means their children don’t get much of an education (5).

Chinatown in Saigon is huge. Like in many other countries, the Chinese here are merchants. Years ago they built a massive market, which caters primarily to wholesalers.

Our last stop on the bike was the neighborhood where Henry used to live. Sally engaged in a conversation with a little baby nam Tim who’s mother was teaching him a bit of English, and we stopped for some refreshments on the obligatory low chairs and tiny table. I was chided for finishing my Vietnamese coffee too quickly; apparently, the socially acceptable way was to spend an hour or two on two ounces of coffee. Sally enjoyed some locally authentic Lipton tea.

At this point it was lunchtime, so Henry and the driver dropped us off at the former home of Henry Cabot Lodge, who was the US Ambassador to South Vietnam during the war. The house is now privately owned and occasionally used for various events. We were treated to a tour of the house by our guide They (6) and the owner’s father, an elderly man. And then we sat down to a five course meal in the formal dining room under a portrait of Lodge.

As we finished the delicious meal, They joined us and Sally had a lovely conversation with her about tipping, the Ginger Cruise, her children and her time in America.

It was mid afternoon by the time we got back to the hotel. I spent the afternoon catching up on pictures and blogging. Hope you enjoyed my work!

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(1) “HCMC” = Ho Chi Minh City amongst the cognoscenti. Not amongst the locals; they usually use Saigon. In contrast, the northerners in Hanoi almost always use Ho Chi Minh City.

(2) Again, not the name his mother gave him. He declined to say his real name, telling us we couldn’t pronounce it anyway. His English was excellent, btw, which he attributed to YouTube.

(3) I never got the driver’s name.

(4) A pillion is a secondary pad, cushion, or seat behind the main seat or saddle on a horse, motorcycle, bicycle or moped.

(5) Schools are not free in Vietnam. Most poor children only go through primary school, and then the money runs out.

(6) Pronounced more like “tway”; she told us to call her Tree.

Fifty years ago this week I went down to my local draft board to register. I had turned 18 and that’s what we all did (1). The Vietnam War was in full bloom, Nixon had been elected the year before, and they were drafting about 3/4 of all the eligible men every year. I was a college sophomore in good standing, so I had an S-1 student deferment. That meant I wouldn’t be drafted until I graduated or flunked out, whichever came first.

For me and of of my friends, staying out of the army, and therefore staying out of Vietnam, was a high priority. It meant staying alive. What none of us realized at the time was how many men who survived and came home would be injured and damaged in many ways that would persist for much of their lives. Or that many of the lucky ones, who were never injured, had careers or education interrupted and never quite got back on track.

So I find it unbelievably ironic that I’m spending my birthday, exactly 50 years later, traveling from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. I never wanted to come here. Certainly not during the war, but not as a tourist either. It’s all Sally’s idea, and we’re both having a great time (2). But I can’t stop thinking about what might have been.

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(1) Not the girls, of course. Getting blown up was men’s work back then.

(2) Despite the Ginger Cruise.

Monday’s scheduled activity was a walking tour of the city after noon, with an emphasis on trying street food.

But I started the day with a much more mundane activity: tips. Asia is often thought to have less of a focus on tips than the US or Europe, but the places that cater to Western tourists seem to be moving into the hands-out-at-every-turn strategy. While we could tip in dollars, the recipients would most likely convert it all to Vietnam Dong (VND) anyway. So we decided to buy some dong. The exchange rate is ~23,000 to the dollar; $100 gets you VND 2,300,000. We have three more stops in Vietnam after Hanoi, and ATMs won’t be accessible in two of them. We laid out what we thought we might tip for these stops, and I went to get 8 million dong.

After breakfast, I did the walk-about for a bit. Although breakfast was later than I would normally eat, I was concerned that we wouldn’t find any food during our street food tour that this picky eater would like.

We met Sunny at noon and took off to find lunch.

I have to say it was very interesting. We would go to a small shop and Sunny would explain the food choices, how they are made, and what they contain. Then he would buy a few, and we would eat. We had rice things, stew things, rice-paper wrapped things, and donuts (what we call donut holes).

Along the way we walked through interesting streets in the old city, watching shopkeepers go about their business, people manufacturing things on the sidewalk, and shoppers.

All the time we were dodging motorbikes. As I mentioned yesterday, motorbike observance of traffic rules appears lax. They often will run red lights. And because it’s inconvenient for them to stop for anything (1), they tend to not do so. On the other hand, there is a certain rhythm and flow to the traffic, and I felt myself getting used to it and able to cross busy intersections.

In fact I noticed yesterday that Southeast Asia has started to feel “normal” to me. I still can’t read the signs or labels (2), and the food mostly looks unappealing, but the sense of different-ness which hit me every day last week seems to have disappeared.

But back to the food. The last stop took a bit of cajoling from Sunny to get us to go. A well-known specialty in Hanoi is “egg coffee”, which sounds anything but appetizing. But in the spirit of the day, we consented to at least look at it. We walked over to a building and climbed two flights of steep and narrow stairs to a room where a dozen or more people sat on small stools at tiny tables. He ordered our drinks, and when they arrived, we realized that egg coffee has a custard-like confection on top, made with egg yolk, condensed milk and sugar. Underneath is strong black coffee. Like any fancy cappuccino, a pattern is etched in the creamy top.

Sally loved it. The Bassman found it very tasty.

Having spent a few hours eating, we proceeded back to the hotel for afternoon tea. Can’t have too much food!

By the time evening rolled around, Sally wasn’t hungry anymore (LoL). However, I seem to need to eat every mealtime so I went out and found a gourmet pizza place nearby, completely by accident. I didn’t have a reservation, but the hostess said I could sit at the pizza bar as long as I left within 90 minutes – that seat was reserved later. No problem.

All in all, a very successful and filling day.

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(1) They fall over when stopped. Unless you put a foot down.

(2) Unlike Thailand and Laos (and Cambodia), Vietnam uses the Latin alphabet. So we can mostly read the signs, although we have no idea what the words mean.

Another day, another tour. Oudune picked us up at 9:00 for a drive in the country. Where the cruise yesterday took us north, today we drove south to the Kuang Si National Park. But not without making a stop where you can buy stuff (of course).

Our stop was at the Ock Pop Tock Weaving Centre, where we got to watch six or so woman weaving on hand looms, making intricate patterns. A guide showed us around, and we saw the different plants that make up the all-natural colors that they use in their yarn.

We continued on to the Kuang Si Waterfall, located in a national park. The park also houses a bear sanctuary, where bears are housed after somehow being “rescued”. I have no idea what that means, and we only saw one bear sleeping.

The waterfalls, however, were quite cool (1).

You walk uphill along a path, passing waterfalls of increasing size. There are pools below each set of falls where bathing is allowed, and hardy souls were going in. There were also areas with lots of “No swimming – Danger!” signs, where stupid souls were going in.

The over-the-top piece of this day was when we saw that they had set up a lunch table for the two of us – just Sally & me – by a quiet little pond, away from all the other tourists. We had our staff of four – guide, driver, waiter and busboy/cook – taking care of us. Pure decadence.

In the afternoon, hung around the room house for a while, and then we took an afternoon walk through town. Dinner was at the Amantaka again. Food here in Laos is extremely reasonably priced – the hotel meal was under $50. Of course, it’s still cheaper outside the hotel: my lunch in a real restaurant with a drink was about $12, and street food is far cheaper.

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(1) Actually, very cool. The water was freezing.

It’s hard to believe that we’ve finished a week already, and it’s time to leave Thailand. We spent the morning relaxing, packing, reading. And then we rushed through lunch because we misjudged how long our order would take.

Anyway, we made it to the airport in about 15 minutes (1) and were, as expected, met by our escorts who expedited our passage through passport control and got us to a lounge. The same process repeated itself in reverse when we arrived in Luang Prabang, Laos. While Thailand does not require a visa for US citizens, Laos does, and you typically get it when you arrive at your port of entry. They take a picture of you with their camera, and they also want a hard copy passport photo which goes somewhere in their files. And US$25 per person in cash, clean unmarked and un-torn bills. So Sally & the Bassman are forever on file here.

Our accommodations (2) here at the Amantaka are pretty amazing. The place only has 24 rooms, and we apparently got an upgrade for some reason. We have a bedroom, an office, a large dressing room, a room just with a tub, a bedroom of course, and a giant pool.

While we were checking in, Tom, the GM, came by and we chatted. Turns out he was either the GM or a manager at two of the camps and the two city hotels we stayed at on our trip to South Africa and Botswana.

Because we had no better idea, we had dinner at the hotel. I had a mediocre piece of salmon, while Sally had mediocre gnocchi. Perhaps it will improve as we go along.



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(1) Take that, any big city in the US.

(2) Sally refers to this as our “house”.

Editor’s note: I started writing this on Wednesday, November 6, and looked back on my calendar to remind me what we did two days ago. Turns out that the umbrella factory visit was actually not Sunday, but was Monday. So you’re not imagining you already read about the umbrellas.

Monday was a light day until late afternoon, when we were scheduled to be picked up and taken to a Thai cooking class outside of town. After talking with June last night, we decided to leave a bit early and stop along the way in an area that has a number of craft businesses. But not the tourist-focused things you see on sidewalks; rather, commercial-grade enterprises that sell to other businesses as well as to consumers.

The most interesting was an umbrella factory. The public space had a dozen or so workers making umbrellas of different sizes and shapes, along with a retail shop. Sally was very tempted, as they were very pretty, but the difficulty of carrying them for the next three weeks and getting them home ultimately dissuade her.

The next stop was a building that housed a silver jewelry and decorative items store, and a fabric and clothing business. The salesman in the fabric place was pretty pushy, which is a sure-fire way to get us to not buy anything at all. The silver place was much more pleasant, and Sally ultimately bought a necklace.

The cooking class was just for the two of us in a large teaching kitchen at the home of Pea, our teacher. Her English was excellent, she was very animated and she had a very nice way about her as she tried to get us to pound our ingredients properly with a mortar and pestle.

We each made five dishes and ate more food than we needed to. I’m not a Thai food fan (1), but I ate all of my creations and finished a couple of them. After dinner, Pea collected our email addresses and by the time we got home we had all the recipes. I’m sure I’ll never use them, but perhaps Sally will. In any event, it was fun.

After driving back to the city we went to one of the night markets. Much like Walking Street, this is a huge expanse of small booths occupied by vendors selling all kinds of stuff. Much like craft fairs in the US, a fair portion of the merchandise is not really local; much is imported from China. But it’s still fun.

Sally bought some elephant pants. But she overpaid, spending 120 baht vs. the 100 baht they cost in Bangkok (2).

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(1) But you knew that.

(2) 120 baht = ~$4; 100 baht = ~ $3.30.