January 16, 2018. So, I started to write this a couple weeks before we take off, on January 18, for Thailand, Laos and Cambodia. (You may wonder, since we were just in Vietnam in October, why didn’t we just do Thailand, Laos and Cambodia then? Well, we didn’t realize that they were all so close. No, actually, we did realize that, but we could not stay long enough to see all of these countries on one trip, which would have taken a month.) A couple weeks before departure is about the time that I typically think, jeez, we’re really going to do this trip, aren’t we.
Right next to me, on my desk, sit four large books about Angkor Wat that our friend, Mike Lewis, loaned to us when we first signed up for the trip, about a year ago. Until last week, I had not opened the books and now that I have, I’m overwhelmed. So, when you’re overwhelmed, what do you do? You start to wax philosophical about preparation for a trip.
Mike’s books are full of wonderful photos that I’ll certainly look at. But there are also a whole lot of words and dates and unpronounceable names in those books. What do I do about those?
There’s no question in my mind that the more you know about something the richer your experience can be. Up to a limit, though. Do I need to remember the name Jayavarman VII, or know that Ta Prohm is the terrestrial counterpart of the star Eta Draconis? Of what real value is that going to be? More importantly, how am I going to work that into a cocktail party conversation? And am I really going to remember whether something was built in the late twelfth or early fourteenth century?
Is it worth trying to cram some of this stuff into my head, even if I’m not going to remember it, long term, because short term, maybe I’ll remember some stuff and that will enhance my experience while I’m there, or at least allow me to ask a question of the guide that will dazzle others on the trip with my apparent knowledge and grasp of the historical/cultural/geographical/archeological significance of what I’m looking at?
Maybe all of this reflection is aimed at justifying my natural laziness. I’m not sure I actually want to make the rather large effort it would require to understand everything (or even a lot of) what’s in the books or in the descriptions on websites that I’ve also begun to read. At some level, there’s got to be a cost/benefit analysis and, for me, I think that the cost of trying to master all of this stuff is not worth the benefit. I can learn enough (for me) by doing a half-assed job of reading some websites, looking over some books and gleaning what I can from knowledgeable tour guides. And Carol and I did learn more about Cambodia in an hour and a half visit to the Cambodia Association of Illinois where, among other things, we saw the memorial to those killed by the Khmer Rouge and listened to our guide sing and play music on the roneat aek. 
Indeed, beyond laziness, there’s the troubling question of whether I’m even capable at this point in my life of mastering and retaining the material. I’m put in mind of a poem by Billy Collins, called Forgetfulness:
Forgetfulness
BY BILLY COLLINS
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Billy Collins, “Forgetfulness” from Questions About Angels. Copyright © 1999 by Billy Collins.
All of this reflecting about preparation for the trip made me think back on the travel that Carol and I have been so fortunate to do, starting with our honeymoon, 52 ½ years ago. What, I wondered did we take away from those trips? I decided to make a list of the most memorable experiences I’d had on those trips. So far, I’ve listed more than eighty. There are many more that could easily have been put on the list, but I’ve decided to be somewhat judicious in my selection. Don’t worry, I’m not going to list all 80-some, but I thought it might be fun to give you a few of the top picks.
Under some duress, Carol agreed to review my list and we each, separately, picked our top ten (category A), our next fifteen (B) and our next fifteen after that (C). There was a rather high degree of agreement between us, though some of my As were Bs for her, Bs were Cs, and the reverse was true as well. Out of the ten As, we agreed on six, so here they are, not necessarily in order.
Varanasi. The holiest place on the Ganges overwhelms as you see the colorful dress of those approaching the river, watch people bathe in the filthy waters, others throw in the remains of cremated family members, laundry being scrubbed and, each evening, Mother Ganges being put to sleep in a religious ceremony with bells, incense and chants.
   Michelangelo’s statue of David, carrying his slingshot. Exquisite and larger than life, as you gaze up at this work of art, it seems almost impossible to believe that a human being created it.
Dunes in Namibia, a surrealistic experience to see these natural, sculptural formations, changing ever so slowly with the wind.
  
Grand Canyon under the moon and stars. On a rafting trip with our daughters, camping out at the bottom of the canyon, by the side of the Colorado River, we experienced the awe of this magnificent sight. The next day, walking by the side of the river, I slipped and fell, breaking my ankle, and had to be helicoptered out. Not so good.
Game Seven of the 2016 World Series, Cubs beating the Cleveland Indians in ten innings, to win the World Series for the first time in 108 years. We traveled only about 300 miles, but we reached a country called Euphoria. Perhaps the greatest baseball game ever, ending in pure joy—and relief from a burden borne by many generations before us.
Well, as I said, these are just a few. There are many more—trekking gorillas and chimps, walking among the tree tops of the forest, sitting in a Jeep beneath a tree at night while a leopard munches on a warthog above us, flying in a balloon over the stupas in Bagan, attending weddings in India and in Lagos, Nigeria, dog sledding in Wyoming, gazing at the gigantic heads on Easter Island, riding in helicopters on our helihiking trip in the Canadian Rockies, walking by the pyramids and the Sphinx, visiting rural villages in Ghana, fly fishing in New Zealand, biking in Beijing, seeing tigers from elephant back, going to the Royal Ascot races in London, scuba diving with manta rays and hammerhead sharks in the Galappagos, marveling at Machu Picchu in Peru…this and more, all amazing. But, of course, it’s not the individual elements of a trip, however marvelous, that make travel so wonderful, but the overall experience and especially the amazing people you meet along the way.
So, I’m feeling a lot more comfortable about my laziness in preparing for this trip. In the end, that’s not what it’s all about. And, besides, I know enough about Jayavarman VII already. He followed Jayavarman VI.
(Apologies for the length of this post, but, hey, that’s what happens when you wax philosophical 😀.)
November 1-2. Left for the airport at 5PM for our 8:30 flight, arriving in lots of time. All of us are coughing from exposure to Hanoi’s air pollution. Not good. We say a fond and sad goodbye to Hoan, who has been a terrific and fun guide and has greatly enhanced our enjoyment of Hanoi. Despite the fact that we have an overnight layover in Hong Kong, our check-in lady at the airport checked our bags through to Chicago. While all of us are a bit skeptical as to whether this in fact will happen, frankly, I don’t give a damn. The bags are out of our hair and, if they don’t arrive, we’ll deal with it then. Our agent also said that the painting we’d bought was too large to carry on, so Hoan got it wrapped further and we checked it. Again, we’ll see what happens, but, in any case, nobody is going to die.
Through the concierge at our hotel, I had arranged for a wheel chair, first to the business class lounge and then to the gate. That helps.
 Our flight to Hong Kong is only an hour and a half. I pass up the airplane meal, except for Haagen Daz cookies and cream ice cream, which is rock hard, but I get the flight attendant to soften it by heating it slightly. I also continue the therapy for my back that Chet prescribed for me in the Business Class Lounge–drinking screw drivers, vodka and orange juice. This may or may not actually cure my back, but may well get me to the point where I don’t give a shit. And, right now, that sounds pretty damn good to me.
Arriving in Hong Kong, we’re met with a wheel chair and zip through, avoiding lines and waits. Except for the pain, this is a great way to travel. We are wheeled all the way to the airport hotel, which connects to the airport through a corridor. There I’m transferred from an airport wheel chair to a hotel wheel chair and, after checking in, I am wheeled up to my room. Chet, Nancy and Carol all get the chaperoned benefits of my injury, without the pain. Now, is that fair?
Slept quite well, despite pain in standing, sitting down. Cough from air pollution also aggravates back. Morning, wheeled from hotel to business class lounge (where we catch part of Game 7 of the World Series) to plane for last, long leg of our journey, the 14 1/2 hour flight to Chicago. Since we pass back over the international date line, we arrive back home only a couple hours after we take off. Don’t ask me, it just works out that way.
REFLECTIONS.
Okay, let’s start with the easy, concrete stuff. Hotels, in general were excellent. Ironically, our least favorite was the most luxurious and expensive of the places we stayed, The Four Seasons in Hoi An, the Nam Hai. To be sure, it was beautiful and luxurious and its location on a lovely beach was great. But the place seemed to have been designed by an architect who never considered that real people might actually stay there. As a result, it was unsafe and lacked obvious features, i.e. a large desk with no accessible electrical outlets. We’ve already cautioned our travel agent against putting clients up there, and she is changing reservations she’d made for a group of six in a couple months.
Favorite hotel was the Hotel Des Arts in Saigon, which was an “A” in all respects. The Metropole in Hanoi was excellent, especially (to our surprise) the new wing, in which we stayed on an executive floor during the final two nights of our stay.
Carol and I do not travel for the food, but the food on this trip was way above what we normally experience. Meals were excellent, in general; we (over) ate very well. And a few of the meals were memorable, or almost-memorable. The Vietnamese food was varied enough not to become boring, unlike what I found in China where every meal seemed to be pretty-much the same.
Physically, the trip presented some challenges. Nancy was ill and had to miss several days. That was unfortunate (for all of us), but she handled it all with good grace. My back was intermittently painful, but didn’t materially affect my ability to enjoy the trip, overall. The pollution in Hanoi definitely got to all of us, in varying degrees. Chet, correctly, I think, pinpointed the event that was most troublesome, the hour-long bike rickshaw trip in Hanoi in which we inhaled motorbike exhaust as we traveled. Had that bike trip not almost killed us, both from the exhaust and from the terror of riding in Hanoi traffic, exposed, it would have been quite an interesting way to experience Hanoi. And the heat and humidity we encountered in the south of Vietnam definitely slowed us down considerably.
This leads me to a more general point about comfort. I’m prepared to concede that, however much I may wish or pretend otherwise, my days of roughing it are over. Business class travel and lounges, drivers and guides everywhere, first class hotels and restaurants, and air conditioning whenever possible may interfere with authentic experiences, but I’ve come to believe that authenticity is overrated. Even being wheeled around the airports and hotel, with the ability to bypass lines and check points, had its distinct benefits.
Shopping. We’re just not into shopping. So, except for the relatively small amount of art we purchased, we have, as they say in customs, “nothing to declare.” Apologies to children, grandchildren and friends.
Photography. I need to look over, and work on, my photos back at home, but my definite sense is that it was only a fair trip photographically. If there are ten I’m really happy with, that’s probably about it. I did not take as many photos as I usually do, and most of them were things I thought might go on the blog. And I took many more photos with my iPhone than I have in the past. That’s okay, because photos for the blog are definitely part of what I’m trying to do. In fact, as I know the iPhone camera has been improved a great deal in more recent models and that there are telephoto lenses for the iPhone, I’m going to explore whether upgrading my iPhone and using that as my camera is a viable option for future trips.
In my first post on this trip, I mentioned that we were relatively recent friends of Chet and Nancy and that, by the end of the trip, we might either be much better friends, or not on speaking terms. I’m happy to report that we’re still speaking. Chet and Nancy were comfortable, flexible companions whose interests and predelictions seemed to coincide quite perfectly with our own. We shared a great deal of good fellowship and wide-ranging conversation.
We covered a great deal of territory. As is true on most trips like this one, our ability to interact with the people was limited. We talked with our guides, with the Vietnamese woman, Than Trinh, who had worked for ABC, three Americans in Hanoi–Mark and Jane Rappaport and Suzanne Lecht. We also spoke briefly with two artists in Hanoi. That was hardly a representative sample, and even from that sample, we had some conflicting viewpoints. (Please don’t take that wrong. Each of those interactions was very interesting and well worth having.) And we were presented with alternative facts from time to time, with population estimates varying by millions of people and tax rates quoted that varied by a factor of four.
We learned most from two of our guides, both named Hoan, one male and one female, the first in Saigon and the second in Hanoi. The second Hoan, our exuberant young artist, was a complete breath of fresh air and materially enhanced our enjoyment of our time in Hanoi and of our trip overall. Here is the email that she sent not long we left her at the airport in Hanoi (and after I’d emailed her saying that we missed her already).
Hi Arnie,
I do missing you a lot .
Anytime I have to say goodbye to my clients I always feel a lot of missing and you are even more. I even feel cry when I gave you a hug 🙁
When I was on the car I am on the way to write you but I lost battery and I have just back home in a second and charged.
I am happy that you have good memories here. I am very happy that the karma bring our path connect.
Please keep in touch and welcome you you or your family go to Vietnam anytime.
Next time I would love to invite you stay with us.
Send you all super big hugs again from a missing heart.
Hug hug and kiss kiss kisss
Hanoi_ Hong Kong kisses, Hanoi- Chicago kisses.
Hoan
Now, just tell me, how can you not love her?
Despite our limited access, I did emerge with certain impressions. Vietnam does not feel like a backward, third world country at all. I had a general sense of a rather prosperous place, relatively clean and, so far as we felt, completely safe. There was no evidence of a strong military or police presence. People are certainly still wary of (avoid entirely) speaking out in public criticizing the government, but they did not seem hesitant to talk to us. And, our guides, at least, seemed relatively content with the government, despite the feeling that corruption was a big problem.
Saigon seemed rather bland and somewhat generic to me. It’s the center of business and had a “businessy” feel to it. Hanoi, by contrast, gave me a sense of a “real” place that embodied a real culture. It felt more different than Saigon, less capitalist. These may seem like stereotypical views of those cities, but stereotypes, after all, are not created out of whole cloth.
The places we visit in the middle of the country all had character–Hoi An, Danang and Hué.
The Vietnamese seem focused on the present and the future, rather than on the past. So, they are far more concerned about the looming presence of China (which controlled them for a thousand years) than the role of the French and Americans in French and American Wars from last century. We had no sense of hostility toward Americans, or even America. Even the differences between South and the North Vietnam, capitalism and communism, which still exist, seem to be fading.
On any trip like this, there are a bunch of stops that you pretty-much need to make, some of which are terrific and some, not so much. For me, I’d summarize them as follows:
War Remnants Museum in Saigon–a must. Very powerful experience.
Cu Chi Tunnels–a must. Great sense of how the north attacked the south.
Mekong Delta, particularly the sanpan ride, definitely worthwhile.
Cham Art Museum in Danang, My Son Holy Land, The Citadel in Hué, Ho’s Mausoleum Complex, Hoa La Prison (Hanoi Hilton) all worth seeing, but not as good as the Saigon sites
Hanoi Water Puppets–commercial, but fun, so worth doing; we particularly liked the music
Ha Long Bay–very beautiful and definitely something to see, but might not need to spend a night on the boat. Lots of boats out on the bay, but that’s unavoidable.
Best things on the trip are generally those that are least heralded–visiting small markets, seeing folks out dancing, doing tai chi and playing badminton early in the morning in Hanoi, street scenes encountered at random and the two great non-touristy days we spent in Hanoi.
Gotta close, again, by recognizing what a privilege it is to be able to experience the world like we have been able to do and to expand our horizons, at least a little bit. Thanks for following, and especially to those of you who commented, either on the blog, or by email. Hope to see you again in January, when we head to Cambodia, Laos and Thailand.
November 1. Chet, Carol and I have breakfast in the hotel, then set off to the gallery w had visited yesterday and talk with the artist, Thiet Cuong. We purchase the black and white painting pictured below (over Cuong’s left shoulder), as well as some ceramic plates. Outside we see some street food, chicken feet. We proceed to the women’s museum, which has interesting exhibits on the rituals and costumes used in marriage and other family events in different parts of Vietnam.   We then drive to the home and gallery of Susanne Lecht, an American born in Montana. We hear the fascinating story of her migration from Montana to Kansas to New York to Japan to Vietnam, where she currently is a force in the contemporary Vietnamese art scene. Suzanne spends an hour and a half talking with us about her background, the building of her house and the artists and art wok on display in her home. She represents a group of Artists called The Gang of Five, who are very popular in Vietnam. This is a most delightful visit.  From Suzanne’s gallery, we taxi back to the hotel for lunch. Happily, Nancy joins us for the first time in several days. We pack and lounge around awaiting our late check out and transfer to the airport. My back has been hurting, so Carol is doing what she can to help with massages, and the hotel has called the airline to arrange for a wheel chair to help me get to and from the gate.
October 31. Yesterday evening, drinks with Chet in the Executive Lounge and then very excellent dinner at hotel’s Vietnamese restaurant (Nancy was not feeling well). Carol and I walked to the Bihn Mihn Jazz Club near the opera house to listen to some jazz.
.Fabulous day today with a guide whom we requested to organize a program for us that tourists would not typically experience Unfortunately, Nancy was not feeling well, so it was just Chet, Carol and me.
We started out driving to Hien Van village, where we visited the Phat Tich pagoda, which is off the beaten track and we found much more attractive, interesting and less congested than the pagoda we’d seen in Hue. 
Besides the pagoda, we saw people, including a fortune teller doing his work.  
Adjacent to the pagoda is the A Di Da great sculpture of Buddha.
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From the pagoda and Buddha, we continued to the marvelous old house owned by our guide’s artist friend, Mr. Mai, who, very unfortunately is suffering from ALS and could not be there. We saw a number of his excellent paintings, which had the feel of old masters. 
We were hosted by the painter’s 84 year old mother, Mrs Bich, herself a painter who did wonderful portraits on silk 
Perhaps the best part of the visit, though, was seeing the lovely house, done in traditional Vietnamese style, and loaded with antique sculptures dating back to the 10th century.     
After returning to our hotel for an excellent lunch, we drove to the gallery of Our guide’s friend, the minimalist painter, Thiet Cuong. While he was not there, Chet, Carol and I loved his work, both his ceramics and his paintings. We are going back to the gallery tomorrow and it’s highly likely that we will not emerge unscathed. Here are some examples.  
We returned to the hotel to relax, then had drinks in the Executive Lounge and then dinner in a hotel restaurant at which a jazz singer was performing.
October 29-30. After breakfast, we depart at 7:45AM for a 3 1/2 hour drive through rice paddy fields to Ha Long Bay, stopping at a very commercial spot to learn about pearls. We are cautioned by Hoan that this is not the best place to buy.  
Arriving at Ha Long, we have a drink and board a “junk” ( which is a lovely, air conditioned boat) for a cruise among the hundreds of islets of Ha Long Bay. We enjoy a multi-course seafood lunch. The scenery is spectacular and I’ve picked some photos pretty-much at random, to give you some idea. (The two photos are taken on and from from our private deck, outside our room.)
         
Carol walks up and down some 200 steps to see a cave at which we dock. My back is still bothering me, so, at Carol’s sensible urging, I pass. Nancy and Chet also decide not to go. We drop anchor in the early evening for an overnight stay among the dramatic limestone peaks rising out of the sea.
  
The chef offers a cooking demonstration at 6PM that Carol takes to learn how to make spring rolls. We dress for dinner. 
After the six course-dinner, Carol and I disappear for the massages we’ve booked. Yes, I know, it certainly is a tough life, but SOMEBODY’S gotta do it and, damnit, we’re up to the task.
Monday morning, my back almost having recovered from the pain I was in after the massage last night (serves me right, I know), we have breakfast on the boat and the cruise around the bay, docking by 11AM. We all pass up the opportunity to shuttle to an island either to sit on the beach or hike up for a panoramic view. The views from the boat are panoramic enough and much more peaceful, since the island seems to have been invaded by an armada of junks. 
Hoan and our driver meet the boat and we are driven back to the hotel. We stop for coffee and, as if we needed proof for the smallness of the world, catch the last two innings of the Astros win over the Dodgers in Game 5.
As the pollution is starting to affect us, we invest in masks for the ride back to the hotel.
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As our rooms in the old part of the Metropole were a bit musty, we asked to be transferred to the new part of the hotel and upgraded our rooms to the executive floor, with lounge. Brilliant decision.
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