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Trip to Australia

Monday, February 7th, 2011

TRIP TO AUSTRALIA

Colleen and I had planned a six week trip to Australia and New Zealand before returning to the US for Christmas with our families. We left Kuala Lumpur October 26th and flew to Sydney, arriving the morning of the 27th. We were met by our friend, Lisa Cartwright, a teacher whom we had worked with in Prague. It was a beautiful day, blue sky ans sunshine, just a little bit nippy. We took the scenic route and stopped on a headland overlooking the Pacific.

Lisa lives in a very nice apartment which she shares with Eva, a Czech girl in Sydney to improve her English. After a brief nap, we headed downtown by bus. It was Saturday and people were strolling through the parks. We joined them. Evidently it was a good time for weddings as we saw at least five brides having their pictures made. We also saw Sydney Harbor, the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House. We also saw fruit bats, big hairy creatures with at least a two foot wingspan, hanging upside down in the trees. We had dinner in a nice but pricey restaurant on Darling Harbor. (Everything seemed pricey after Malaysia). There were several loud bachelorette parties in the restaurant which almost prevented us from being able to talk. We crashed early that night.

Lisa lies in Randwick, a very nice neighborhood in Sydney with cute restaurants, small markets, bookstores and a cinema, everything you would need. She and Eva speak English one day and Czech the next, a good deal for both of them.

The next day, we headed to the Blue Mountains just to the east of Sydney. The area reminded me of Gatlinburg in Tennessee, small towns nestled in the mountains with cute but expensive shops that cater to tourists. We went first to an overlook to see The Three Sisters, a rock formation of three pillars complete with a legend to explain their existence. We went to several spots that offered spectacular views from the edge of the cliffs the hiked down into the valley below. Everything was green and we saw lots of beautiful birds. After several hours hiking, we rode the cable car back up. That night, Lisa made us a wonderful supper.

On Monday, after a leisurely stroll around Randwick, we headed to Manley Beach which required a ferry ride across Sydney Harbor that offered great views of the Opera House. Manley is a broad beach, like most around Sydney, and has cliffs on each end. Lots of surfers were testing their skills on the breakers rolling in from the Pacific. We found a somewhat secluded spot on one end of the beach protected from the surf. The water was clear and I went in, but only briefly, a little too chilly for me.

The next day we strolled around Randwick again, bought some books by Australian authors and went to see “Michael Clayton” at the Cinema (Colleen likes George Clooney). Then we walked down the hill to Coogee Beach, another nice beach with cliffs, surf and surfers.

Sydney is a beautiful, modern city with many interesting neighborhoods. I particularly liked Randwick and felt I would be happy living there. It had everything one would need and was only a short bus ride to the city center. But it seems that all large cities are somewhat similar and the size masks the day to day life of the people. I longed to see and feel the native culture outside the large metropolis. So we headed for the “Red Center”.

We left Lisa’s at 7:30 in the morning for a long flight to Alice Springs in the middle of the country and, on arrival, had to change our watches by two and one half hours. Never understood the half hour time change within a country. We stayed at Annie’s Place, a backpacker’s haven which is modest but nice. The staff was very friendly and helpful, explaining where we could keep food and giving us a map of the town and pointing out the highlights. Alice, as the natives call it, isn’t very big so there aren’t many highlights. We got our things in our room (toilet and shower down the hall) and headed fro town. Had lunch of fish and chips which were great. They had something in the batter that really added to the taste. Wish we had something similar in the US. Captain D’s just doesn’t measure up.

Saw our first Aborigines. They are very dark people and have all the features that we Westerners find unattractive according to our standards of beauty. They are very dark, almost black. Think of the blackest African American and all the Aborigines are this color. Very dark, big lips, wide noses, fat faces, puffy cheeks and generally overweight. And I immediately got the feeling that they were more tolerated than accepted. I didn’t see any who seemed happy, laughing and smiling. Nor any who were engaged in conversation with the “white people” unless they were trying to sell their art. And there was a lot of Aboriginal art. It seemed to be their principal means of income. I don’t remember seeing any of the Aboriginals working in the shops. They seemed to be a group apart. We looked for souvenirs, mainly Aboriginal art that consisted of simple designs or drawings of animals. The art consisted of outlines with lots of dots and was rather expensive.

We bought some bread and peanut butter (a staple in my life) and put it in the kitchen at Annie’s. At a backpackers place, they usually provide space in the kitchen so you can make your own meals and not have to eat in restaurants. Normally, there is silverware, dishes, a fridge, and a stove or microwave. They just ask that you label your food and there’s an unwritten rule that you don’t eat what doesn’t belong to you. And of could you wash and put away the dishes.

The next morning, we were up at 5AM to begin a three day trip to Uluru (Ayer’s Rock), Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) an King’s Canyon. After a breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches and coffee, we put our excess luggage in a locked room with a whole lot of other backpacks. Annie’s is equipped to handle people who are going to Ayer’s Rock, the main tourist destination from Alice. We left at 6AM, 18 of us in a van pulling a trailer. BJ, our guide, (or Beej as we called him), 5 Canadians, 4 Brits, 2Irish, 2 Americans, 1 German, 1 Swiss, 1 Finnish and 1 Israeli, an international group.

It rained intermittently and there were spots where we had to go slowly because water was flowing over the road and we weren’t sure how deep it was. Though Alice is the jumping off spot for a trip to Uluru, it’s not close. It’s a day trip just to get there. We stopped every couple of hours for potty breaks. The first was at a camel farm. We could ride a camel for about a 100 yards for only five bucks. I passed. Camels were used to haul equipment to the Red Center before the railroads were completed. When they were no longer needed, they were released into the wild and now there are herds of wild camels roaming the arid area.

We picked up a couple of guys who had gotten their truck stuck on an unpaved road. It seems there is an unwritten rule that you help anyone in distress in the Outback. We dropped them off at a Ranger Station. There was one spot where we had to be very careful because of the water flowing over the road. 300 meters later we crossed a $6 million bridge over the Finke River that was dry as a bone. (More about that later). Our destination the first day was King’s Canyon but, it turned out, we couldn’t get there. The road was closed due to flooding. We went back to the Ranger Station to see if the water would recede but it didn’t. BJ took us to another spot for a hike, interesting but not spectacular. As we left the canyon in the van, it began to rain and then to hail. We had to stop because we couldn’t see the road.

Our next stop was Curtin Springs near Mount Connor, a large mesa which several in our group thought was “The Rock” but we were still a long way from our destination. It was our last chance to get alcohol so we stocked up. Met “Pete”, a crusty old gent who owned 1,000,000 acres of the Red Center including Curtin Springs. He had had a few beers and was very talkative. He told some slightly off color jokes about the Aborigines and made no bones about his dislike for them. He called them Blacks. He was happy to see the rain and said it was the first rain they had had since March. Guess he was celebrating with a few too many beers. Told me that he had come to that area with his wife and son fifty years ago and in the first year had only seen 6 white people. I didn’t ask how he had accumulated a million acres but BJ told me that in the old days you just had to show up and claim the land. Squatter’s rights.

We slept on Pete’s property that night. Bj told us that only Mulga Tours (the tour group that worked out of Annie’s Place) was allowed to stay on his property because they kept the place clean so we were very careful to clean up after ourselves. We cooked on burners and gathered firewood to build a fire and keep warm. It was colder than I had expected. Occasional light rains didn’t keep us from enjoying a good meal. We slept on the ground under shelter in sleeping bags inside swags. A swag is just a large canvas bag that is waterproof. We slept well.

Early the next morning, we drove into the park, a large area that includes Uluru and Kata Tjuta. We went first to the Olgas for a long hike. The Olgas are a series of rock formations, some higher than Uluru. They are composed of composite rock, rocks of various sizes and dirt that have been fused together by tremendous heat, like concrete when you can still see the rocks. Supposedly they were pushed away from ancient mountains that were higher than the Himalayas. They look like donuts that have been cut in half and balanced on their flat ends forming large, solid arches. There are 36 of them. Kata Tjuta means “many heads” in Aborigine and the area is considered sacred to the natives. We hiked for a couple of hours around and through. Intermittent showers created running water where it would normally have been dry. The surrounding area is flat and dry, a big country.

After a lunch of sandwiches, which we made ourselves (all our food was carried in the trailer), we headed to Uluru, about 25 kilometers away but it looked much closer. We arrived at the Cultural Center just in time for a torrential rainstorm, most unusual for the Red Center. We had coffee and visited the exhibits. The park has been co-managed by the Aborigines for several years now and there were Aborigines working in the Center, the first time I had seen the natives working alongside whites. Uluru, a single rock, not composite, is enormous. It takes over two hours to walk around it. It is a religious site for the Aborigines and they urge you NOT to climb on the rock just as we would not want people scaling one of our churches. But you can climb the rock. There is a certain area where you can go up and there is a rope to hang onto when you begin the initial steep ascent. Beej told us that the majority of tourists to Uluru are Japanese and they charter planes and come for the expressed purpose of climbing the Rock. The Aborigines may not appreciate it but they are practical. Money talks.

As soon as the rain abated I went outside to get pictures of the Rock. The rain created small rivers running down the side of the Rock and we got pictures most people miss. When it is wet, Uluru is a beautiful, soft mauve color as opposed to the brilliant shades or red and orange you usually see. Beej took us to a spot to see a spectacular waterfall cascading down in stages from the top of the Rock into a wide pool. He told us that the previous week, the pool had been completely dry. We headed to another spot and, just as we arrived, it began to rain again. I stayed in the van but those who went said the waterfall was spectacular but they were soaking wet. I wished I had gone.

Let me point out that there were signs everywhere warning us that the temperature was often as high as 40 degrees Centigrade (over 100 Fahrenheit) and we should drink lots of water. Unfortunately, when we were there, it was closer to 40 degrees F. I wore a jacket most of the time, especially at night. It stopped raining so we waited to see the changing colors of the Rock at sunset. It didn’t happen. Cloud cover prevented us getting pictures of the sunset. The sky became very threatening and we got reports that the “Mother of all Storms” was on the way so we abandoned our plans to sleep under the stars and sought shelter. We got rain but not bad and I was dry in my swag.

We got up early the next morning and drove to the Rock in order to see the sunrise, but, like the sunset, the cloud cover prevented any spectacular pictures. We enjoyed a hearty breakfast and then began a hike all the way around Uluru. It’s either a 6 mile or a 6 kilometer trek (I don’t remember which) and it took about two and a half hours. There were signs everywhere urging us to drink plenty of water due to the high temperatures but, at the beginning, we it was cold and windy and I needed a warm jacket. It was easy walking as the land is completely flat.

The Aborigines consider the entire rock to be sacred but there are spots along the way where they have signs posted indicating that this particular area is especially sacred to men (or to women) and they ask that you not take pictures. Supposedly, the Aborigines use these site for special ceremonies.

Uluru seems to be one solid rocr as opposed to the composite material of Kata Tjula. Some pieces had broken away and were separate and other pieces seemed ready to separate. Aerial photos in the center had shown that the “layers” or “striations” were almost vertical rather than horizontal as we see in the Grand Canyon. It’s as if layers of earth were pressed together under extreme temperature and pressure so that they fused together into one solid rock pushed up on it’s side. The land around the Rock is reminiscent of that around the Grand Canyon, flat, dry and hot. The flora looks very similar but it’s probably not the same. It’s a big country and the Red Center really is red.

Beej told us that the Aborigines are very secretive about their religious ceremonies and supposedly will not reveal anything about them to anyone who is not Aborigine. This secretiveness may carry over into their daily lives and may be part of the reason they are not assimilated into the white culture. Like so many native minorities, they have been mistreated by the European conquers. At one time young Aborigines were taken away from their families in order to be taught in “European” schools and brought up the “right way”. Another reason the Aborigines may resist European culture. The Australian government has recently apologized for this treatment. Aborigines are taught from a very young age how to live off the land, how to find food and water. At the age of 11 or 13, boys are sent into the desert alone to survive for a period of time.(Can’t remember how long but remember thinking that I would not have survived for that period of time). It’s a right of passage and every Aborigine boy does it. They go into the desert as boys and return as men.

We left Uluru at 11AM and stopped at Pete’s place in Curtin Springs for lunch. At the next rest stop, we heard that the road to Alice might be closed due to flooding so we hurried on. The river was rising and the people at Kings Canyon Resort had been stranded there for four days. When we got to the Finke River, which had been dry before, water was surging under the bridge and chewing up chunks of land from the banks along the way. Even Beej wanted to stop and get pictures of something seldom seen in this area. Areas of the road that had been flooded before were now dry. Obviously, the river drained a larger area and had taken more time to fill up.

WE stopped at the camel farm. A woman was carrying a young kangaroo in a white bag about the size of a pillowcase. She took him out to pee and he was quite anxious to get back inside the bag. She told us that “joeys” stay mostly inside their mothers pouch until they are about nine months old. She explained that Kangaroos are nocturnal and many are killed on the highways and joeys are often found still alive in the pouch.

Back in Alice, we were treated to dinner at Annie’s place. Good food, good fun. Lots of drinking, lots of dancing.

The next day, Sunday, Nov. 4, was a slow day. We had no plans. We strolled around the Sunday Market in the open-air pedestrian area. Typical stuff. Nothing worthwhile except Aboriginal art which is very expensive. $70 for a 12 by 15 inch piece of art on a canvas like piece of material and unframed. The larger works were much more expensive. Many of the artists were selling their own work but, thank goodness, they didn’t harass anyone, only answered questions or showed their work if you showed interest. Spent a lot of time on the net Making arrangements for the rest of the trip.

Alice is a small town and there’s not much to do there except to look around and learn a little about the Aborigines. They were there but thy seemed a race apart. There seemed to be a wide separation between the Australians and the Aborigines. The aborigines weren’t working in the shops, only selling their own art on the street. There seems to have been no assimilation of the natives into the European culture.

We went to town again on Monday and bought gifts. Got beach bags with Aboriginal designs for my granddaughters. The trick was to find something I thought they might like that wasn’t too bulky. Getting things home was going to be a problem. In the afternoon, we flew to Cairns (pronounced Caaan with an Ozzie accent).

Our hostel, Calypso, sent a van to pick us up at the airport. It’s a very organized operation and I would recommend them. They were very efficient in getting us checked in and into the room. A little later, they set us up for a snorkeling trip to the Great Barrier Reef the next day. It was a hell of a lot more expensive than I had expected.

Calypso is essentially a backpackers haven. They know ti and they are prepared for it. They handled lots of young people with huge backpacks. Had dinner in the dining room/bar, a huge open area with 5 TVs, all on different channels with th sound turned off, loud music blaring, a billiard competition with a running commentary by some guy on a mike. Luckily they didn’t keep us awake later.

Tuesday morning, we left at 7AM to go to the Reef. Another well run operation. They picked people up from all over town and took them to the boat. We had both divers and snorkelers. They split us up and gave us instructions on what to do – very complete and thorough. The boat was state of the art, TVs showing underwater shots, no shoes on board, and all the necessary equipment. It took us a couple of hours to get to the spot they had selected. We were fairly isolated though we saw other boats in the distance.

They gave us shorty wet suits, mask, snorkel and fins. The divers went in first and then the snorkelers. We were shown an area to stay within and a guy stood on top of the boat keeping an eye on us. We were on Miln’s Reef about 11 miles out. The water was relatively shallow. In some areas I was barely ably to stay off the reef. The divers looked like they were in about thirty feet of water.

The snorkeling was great but no better that Bali or the Perhentian Islands actually.

In Hanoi

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hi All,
Well, I’m still in Hanoi and unemployed.Maybe the stories about schools desperately seeking teachers was a myth. Or maybe that was just in Thailand. Anyway I have sent resumes to several schools and am waiting to hear from them.
Took a city tour the other day and visited, among other things, the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh. Big marble block building. Very austere with strict rules regarding deportment. No cameras, no laughing, no talking, no hands in pockets. We went thru screening before going in and moved in single file. Beautifully uniformed guards moved us along. No stopping, keep moving. The big boy was laid out in a glass coffin. Looked like a wax dummy.
The Presidential Palace was next door but Ho chose to live simply in a two room house on stilts. Will send pictures when I can.
Visited Temple of Literature which is an ancient school but looks like a pagoda.
Monday, went to the Perfume Pagoda. It’s a two hour ride from Hanoi. That in itself is an adventure. There are many, many, many more motorbikes than cars in Vietnam and they crowd the streets and roads. Cars just weave in and out honking all the way. But we killed no one. After the car ride, there is a one hour boat trip. four passengers and one FEMALE rower in a metal flat-bottomed john boat. And it began to rain. We bought flimsy ponchos, very flimsy. Everything in my backpack got wet. Was able to protect my camera. They we went up a mountain. I chose to ride the cable car. The Perfume Pagoda is in a cave. It’s the most sacred pagoda in Vietnam. Interesting but not spectcular. Mostly just a huge cave with the Budda and decorations inside. Pictures to follow.
Enjoyng myself and seeing the sights while I can. Will let you know my progress as I know it. Anxious to find a job. but wanting to see what there is to see.
More later,
Love to all,

Hi from Hanoi

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hi Everyone,

Sorry I haven’t written lately. I’ve been very busy and the compuyer at home has not been working. Had it looked at twice and it seems to be OK now.

I’m teaching a full load (24 hours per week) and it is very hectic. For those of you who are not teachers, let me explain that the 24 hours represents only the time that you are in class and for which I am paid. I’m getting $16 per hour here which is a handsome salary as the average in come in the country is less than $700 per year. But when I also include the time spent planning my lessons, the per hour rate drops considerably.

On Monday and Wednesday, I teach from 2:30 to 4:30 and from 7:30 to 9:30. Tuesday, Thursday and saturday, it’s 9:00 to 11:00 and 4:30 to 7:00. Saturday it’s 9:00 to 11:00 and 1:30 to 4:00. So the schedule is such that I teach six days a week and it is spaced out so that there is not quite enough time to do anything in between classes. Luckily, all the classes are at the school so I don’t have to travel all over town. These classes all end in January and I will get a new schedule. Hopefully a better one that will at least allow me to get out of town on weekends.

The weather has cooled down into the seventies. Feels great to me but the Vietnamese are complaining about the heat. Monday, every one of my students was wearing a jacket. Usually I catch a cab to work because if I walk, I get sweaty and feel clammy all day. But Monday was so nice I considered walking. For the Vietnamese, winter had set in!

Novenber 20th was National Teacher’s Day in Vietnam. It’s a big thing. Teachers are very well respected here much like Doctors used to be in the US. Teachers at the school got large bouquets of flowers, scarves, ties, appointment books, wall decorations, etc. It was quite impressive. My class of adults who work for Vietnam Customs, invited me to a restaurant in a village outside of town. The specialty of the village is snake but they assured me that the main course was pork. It was delightful. The restaurant was beautiful, a converted old house with lots of beautifully carved and polished wood. Very ornate. The meal lasted a couple of hours with different courses which seemed to appear at random without being requested. It was served family style and we ate with chopsticks (I’m getting pretty good). We drnk wine which was more like a strong after dinner liquor. They kept making toasts and i kept drinking. They presented flowers and we took pictures. After the meal, we moved to an outside balcony and had tea and fruit. I didn’t see anyone pay the bill but it was taken care of and then one of the students announced, “Mr. Tom, we go home now.” It was very nice and I appreciated it. As we left the restaurant, I noticed several large jars (probably 5 to 10 gallon jars) with dead snakes soaking in some sort of liquid. The snake on top was  a cobra and its nech was flared and its mouth was open. This, I was told, is snake wine and the snakes soak for a year before the wine is finally prepared and served. I will try it before I leave. I will also try cat and dog meat, which my students assure me is delicious.

Went to a pavilion which was set up during APEC to display the history and culture of Vietnam. I went to see a concert of traditional music but unfortunately, it turned out to be modern music from many Asian countries. I was wearing sorts and carrying groceries I had just bought. As I was sitting there, a lady came up and asked if I would move down to the front where there were tables set up for VIPs. I declined because I wasn’t sure i wanted to stay and I wasn’t dressed properly. A short time later, a woman wih a TV crew came up and asked if I would answer two questions on TV. Again, I declined. It seems that the vietnames are very happy to have westerners here and want to show them on TV etc. People still say hello as I walk down the street.

OK, must run for now. More later.

Love to all,

Tom

Hello from Hanoi

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Here’s a copy of my group email update from a couple weeks ago.
CK
Hello Prague People,

Here’s a quick rundown on the Vietnam experience so
far. Sorry it’s only one of those lame group emails,
but it seems to be the best way for me to stay in
touch with people, and I am thinking about all of you!

Days here: 7
Hours awake from San Francisco to here: 36
Days that mysteriously disappeared during flight: 1
Population of Hanoi: 5,000,000
Motorbikes in Hanoi: 4,000,000
Motorbikes on road at any given time: 3,000,000 (the
others are all parked on the sidewalks, forcing you to
walk out in the streets)
Helmets seen in Hanoi so far: 1
Number of times the driver honked the horn from the
airport to the center: 500 (10 honks per minute x 50
minutes).
Near-miss, potential accidents witnessed: astronomical
Accidents witnessed: 0
Temples/pagodas visited: 8, all very beautiful and
peaceful, with thousands more throughout the country
Dead communist corpses visited: 1 (apparently visiting
Uncle Ho’s mausoleum is automatically added to every
city tour, whether requested or not).
Friendly people: almost everyone
Hard-sell, aggressive street vendors: 50%, but they
smile, and eventually leave us alone. For some reason
they take Tom’s no much more firmly than mine.
Vietnamese words learned so far: 5 (please, thank you,
good morning, beer, icecream)
New (to me) fruit types eaten: 4
Types of rain that can fall in any given day: 5 (see
Forrest Gump for an excellent description of this).
People wearing conical hats: everywhere, not just in
movies or posters.
Number of times forced to wear conical hat for cliche
tourist photo by won’t-take-no-for-answer-street
vendor: 1
Beautiful women in traditional dress: dozens. I plan
to get one of these beautiful long dress/slacks
outfits made.
Number of job offers so far: 0. Apparently things
move slower in that regard than we were expecting. But
we are hoping for something with a university, and/or
on the coast, and we have ruled out HCMCity or daycare
jobs completely, which does narrow the field.

I hope the above doesn’t come off as a negative
impression–it certainly isn’t meant to be. It’s our
first time in Asia and the sights and sounds are very
foreign, but we are enjoying the new experience and
trying to make the most of this time as tourists while
we can.

Running low on battery power in laptop and brain, so
can’t think of other things to add right now.

I’ll write again once we get settled somewhere. In
the meantime, I hope all is well with all of you.

Take care and keep in touch,
Colleen

Good Morning, Vietnam

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hi Everyone,

Well, I’m finally getting around to e-mailing everyone to let you know what is going on with me. For those of you who don’t know, I’m in Vietnam. I’ve been in Hanoi for the last two weeks seeking employment as an English teacher. So far, I’ve had two offers, both in Hanoi, but haven’t made any commitments as yet. Would prefer working in a smaller town on the coast. Quieter, maybe cooler with a breeze, and near a beach.

Hanoi is a big city with 5 million people, 4 million motorbikes, and three helmets. The streets are incredibly crowded, many more motorbikes and bikes than cars. There are traffic lights only at the major intersections and only the cars seem to pay attention to them. In most cases, motorbikes converge on the intersection from four directions at once. It’s like schools of fish or flights of birds coming together, somehow they enter this melting pot and come out the other side unscathed. It’s a miracle. So far I have not seen a single accident.

The secret to crossing the street is to wait til there are no cars coming, step out, walk at a constant pace, and don’t look. If you don’t panic, and walk slowly, they will judge where youi are going to be when they get to you and they will try very hard not to hit you, but they will pass very close to you. It’s like walking in the ocean and having a school of fish swim by. Somehow they move around you and never touch, it’s just not as frightening.

There is constant noise in the city. Constant honking of horns on cars or motorbikes. Most of the time it’s to let the person in front of you know that you want to pass or , at least, to let them know that you are passing them and they should not move into you lane (and, believe me, I use the word lane very lightly). I’ve seen cases in which our bus would pass another bus by pulling out into an oncoming stream of motorbikes. It was the responsibility of the motorbike to pull over to the edge of the road or take on a bus head-on.  Sometimes the busses just drive merrily down the center of the road, with motorbikes taking what was left of the road. But everyone is constantly honking their horn. I really think in some cases they just like the sound of their horns. And there are a variety of sounds, not just the one note blaring we have in the States.

Hanoi is a big, crowded, dirty city. The weather sucks. I haven’t seen the sun since I’ve been here. The people are nice and friendly. Most want to sell you something, of course, but they don’t harass you. Women with a board over their shoulder and two hanging baskets want to sell you fruit or bread. Men with three wheelers want to give you a ride round town. Men with motorbikes want to take you somewhere. Just say no and keep moving.

I’ve been living in the old quarter of town which the guide book says is the most densely populated area in all of Asia. I can believe it. Small shops line the streets and they are packed with merchandise, I mean, absolutely packed! The people live in the streets, literally. In the old quarter, the side walks are so filled with parked motorbikes that there is usually no room to walk. You walk in the street and ignore all the honking and pray no one hits you. It’s worse at mealtimes. The shopowners cook their food in little pots they set up on the sidewalk then gather around and either sit on little stools about six inches high or just hunker down. (Everyone here can hunker down, squat, sit on your heels, for those not from the South). At mealtime, the street is the only avenue open. Periodically, between the shops, there is a narrow (3 foot) passageway leading to the back.  I’m told that as many as 25 people live back there and share one bathroom. No wonder they live on the street.

In addition to looking for employment, I’ve been on three tours. The first was a tour of the city of Hanoi. First stop was the mausoleum of THE Man. Ho Chi Minh. A large cold, marble building with nothing inside but HIM. We stood in a long line to enter but it moved fairly quickly. No cameras, no hats on the head, no improper dress, no laughter, no talking, no hands in pockets, no stopping. There were beautifully uniformed guards who herded us through quickly. If you hesitated, they touched your arm to move you along. We were in the the room with HIM for about a minute making a big “U” around the body. He looked very yellow, well, even more than normal. Could have been plastic as far as I could tell. In and out. No time to make a quick inspection.

Next door was the Presidential Palace. Ho refused to live there but preferred a simple two room house on the grounds. We walked around the balcony and looked inside. Spartan to say the least.

We went to the Temple of Literature. Actually, it’s a Buddhist Temple where students went to study. It was dedicated to Confuscius (sp?). I’ll have to read up on this to understand the realtionship. Maybe more about this later.

The rest of the day was devoted to going to different pagodas. I was “pagoda”ed out by the end of the tour. One pagoda was in a lake in the center of town. The story goes that the emperor won a great battle and gave his sword to a Golden Turtle who lived in the lake. If, in the future, Vietnam is pressed by it’s enemies, the Turtle will return the sword to save the nation. In light of the history of the nation, either the turtle has fallen asleep on the job or the legend rings hollow.

The second tour was a day trip to the Perfume Pagoda. We rode on the bus for an hour and a half through flat land where there were endless rice fields being harvested by (mostly) women bent over cutting the rice at the ground. Back-breaking work. Much like picking cotton. All the land is ovened by the State but it is leased to families for a period of 15 years. The rice is often spread across the road. Our bus drove over many piles of rice. This is the manner they use to separate the rice from the shaft.

We arrived at the Perfume River just as it began to mist. We bought flimsy ponchos that were offered. They were about as sturdy as the plastic bag you get to carry groceries home from the store. We were inundated with women trying to sell us things. They tried to “give” us bracelets and said ,”My name is Moon. Remember me when you come back.”  I figured if you took a “free” bracelet, you wer somehow obligated to buy something from them when you came back. We got in metal, flat-bottomed john boats, four tourist and one female rower to each, and set off. It began to rain hard. We all got soaked, even the thinks in my backpack got wet. Luckily, I was able to keep my camera dry. The rain was wet but warm. The wind slowed our progress and it took over an hour to get up river. We got off at the base of a mountain. Here we all bought sturdy ponchos and threw the others away. We were given the choice of walking, make that climbing, the trail up to the Perfume Pagoda or taking a gondola. I chose the gondola. Even the climb up to the gondola was slippery and treacherous due to the rain.

The Perfume Pagoda is actually an enormous cave. Did I mention enormous? There is a huge stalagmite right in the middle of the entrance which is called the tongue of the dragon. There is a big iron bell at the entrance which I hit three times with a large mallet which was supposed to bring me luck. It hasn’t worked so far. The cave is like any other cave, with stalagtites and stalagmites, just larger than most. In the back there is the necessary paraphernalia which make it a pagoda. The buddha with the thousand eyes and thousand arms, lots of gold statues, etc. There seems to always be three layers of icons with the most sacred in the back on the highest tier. I’ll have to read more about the religion to understand.

Due to the rain, there were very few tourists that day. We had lunch in a large quonset hut on long banquet style tables. The meal was family style. Lots of food. Not always sure what it was but it was good and filling. Lots of rice always. And spring rolls. I have been quite pleased with the food. Think I am beginning to lose some weight.

Getting Off the Bitten Path

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hello Everyone,
At one of the dozens of travel agency/cafes in Hanoi, I saw this ad ” 4WD Jeep Trip — An exciting way to get off the bitten track and explore the diverse culture and immense beauty of Vietnam’s Northern mountains.” Excellent level of English! Except for that one word, which immediately struck me as a great title for my next installment. You’ll soon see why.
The Bitten Track: A week after we arrived, while waiting for our CVs to make their way through the cyber bureaucracy, we went off on a 3 day trip to Ha Long Bay, due east of Hanoi, on the coast (Gulf of Tonkin). We saw beautiful scenery, hundreds of rocky islands (there over two thousand of these in the vast bay, formed by a giant dragon’s tail), caves and pagodas. Had great meals, a moonlit overnight stay on a boat that looks like a Chinese Junk, swimming, and very exhausting hiking.
And then we agreed to go to Monkey Island. Guess what they have there? The guide said “You can relax on the (beautiful) beach, or go just up the trail 50 meters and maybe you’ll see some of the monkeys that live on the island.” Why, oh why, didn’t we relax on the beach? The 50 meter trail involved 20 meters down the beach and then 30 straight up a rocky cliff. We stayed at the bottom, shaking our heads, watching the 25-year-old French members of our group work their way up and then start shouting excitedly that there were monkeys all over the place up there. So, we started our rock climbing — getting each foothold was just challenging enough to be slow going, but easy enough to think “I can go a bit higher.” Near the top, I could see the monkeys scampering all around near our French friends and several other tourists already up there. I heard someone say, “Let’s get out of here. Stay away from that crazy one there.” Tom was ahead of me and hadn’t seen any monkeys yet. He grabbed a hold of a branch on the lone tree there. That’s when the largest “crazy” monkey jumped out of the tree and latched his teeth into Tom’s arm, hanging there for seconds. He was one angry monkey.
Fortunately, he retreated back into his tree, and everyone was able to make their way down. A local man dozing at the bottom of the trail leapt up when he saw Tom’s arm and took him immediately to the sea, washing the dripping wound with salt water. A few minutes later, the guide at the park station gave treated it with antiseptic and gauze. By this time, I was reading in Lonely Planet about rabies. Long story shorter now — the chance of the monkey having it was probably slim, but possible. If you have had a rabies vaccination and then are bitten by a rabid animal, then you just wash it well. If you haven’t had the vaccine, and don’t follow the complicated post-exposure treatment plan, you get rabies. If you get rabies, you die. Period. Tom hadn’t had a rabies vaccination, and despite the guide saying “we don’t think anyone has died from these monkeys before,” we decided to opt for the complicted treatment. We got back to the “main” island, Cat Ba, and went to the local doc. He knew about tetanus and wound treatment, but nothing about rabies. He thoroughly cleaned and sutured (8 stitches) the wound and passed out some Hungarian antibiotics. That’s another long story in itself. A 60-something doctor in Northern Vietnam–what sort of wounds was he suturing 35 years ago? Moving on, it took 24 hours to get back to Hanoi, but we had read that we had a few days window, and we stuck with the tour program to get back, instead of trying some other method of return which would’ve taken almost as long anyway.
Went to the Int’l clinic in Hanoi, where the head doc is a Dutch man who speaks fluent Dutch, English, French and German (maybe more, but that’s all we’ve witnessed so far). But he’d only been here for 3 weeks, and was much more familiar with crocodile bites from his recent stint in Africa. He consulted the young Vietnamese doctor, and all agreed that rabies treatment needed to be followed. (Was the monkey crazy? Or was it protecting a younger monkey that was also in the tree?) For the rabies potential, Tom immediately got 4 shots of immuno globulin and started the post-exposure 5 shots of rabies over a month. The cost for this is staggering, but had they not had it there, we would’ve been on the plane to Bangkok to get it. For the wound, which now had a red area all around it and was the more obvious problem, they reopened the stitches (not a good idea to stitch an animal bite — it locks in all sorts of bad things). They cleaned the hell out of it, and started a stronger antibiotic. We went back 4 days in a row for daily inspection, disinfection, and dressing, then got the all-clear and a kit to do all this on our own daily. The photos of the wound went to their Med Staff meeting for education (and entertainment?) purposes.
Over two weeks later, the wound is finally looking much better. We go back to the clinic once per week for the next shot and to chat with all our new friends there. I no longer see the angry monkey every time I close my eyes. We haven’t figured out the exact species, but I could pick that bugger out of a line-up if I saw him again. The moral of the story, in case you haven’t already figured it out, is “get your rabies shot before you go anywhere!” FYI, I’m following my own advice and have started a normal rabies vaccine program.
In between trips to the clinic, we were following up on jobs and doing more traveling while avoiding the typhoon that struck central Vietnam. We have signed on for jobs in Hanoi, to start at the end of the month, and are following on housing leads by the minute while living in a small hotel room. We took a fabulous trip to Hoi An, a UNESCO town in the south, and we might head to a beach resort in the south, if we can get everything arranged on housing soon. Not wanting to overwhelm with an even longer email, details on all of these things will come in the next installment of our Hanoi Herald (credit to Adam for this catchy title). There will be stories of the childrens’ mid-autumn festival, excellent meals, the wonderful reviving power of iced Vietnamese coffee on a hot afternoon, and the glories of having tailor-made clothes to flatter/hide figure flaws. For anyone even remotely thinking of coming to visit, these last 2 alone are worth the cost of the airline ticket. Stay tuned . . .
Hope you are all healthy and happy,
Colleen

Trip to Nha Trang

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hello All,

Well, here comes another long travelogue so hit delete if you wish.

I went to Hoi An a few weks ago for a long weekend. I fly to Da Nang and caught a taxi to Hoi An, about forty minutes to the south. Da Nang caught the brunt of Typhoon Xangzane and there was a lot of evidence of damage. Tree limbs were piled up on the edge of the streets, roofs were blown off and some smaller, ill constructed houses were completely destroyed.

The ride to Hoi An paralled the Pacific. I caught glimpses of the water but couldn’t see the beaches. Passed what is know as China Beach made famous by an America TV series about the war. Stayed at the Grassland Hotel which is about two kilometers from the center of town. The receptionists wore beautiful traditional dresses, long silk pants with a full-lenghth dress split of the side to just above the waist. The dresses button up to the neck and always have long sleeves, but are soft and flowing and beautiful. The Vietnamese value white skin and do everything they can to avoid the sun. On motorbikes, the women wear masks, hats and long gloves. I first though the masks were to avoid polution but now I think they are as much to avoit getting burned.

Decided to go into town and the hotel provided a bike for me to ride. Said to park it anywhere and lock it. That was an experience. Though Hoi An is a small town there was still plenty of motorbike traffic and plenty of honking of horns. I just tried to ignore it and go on.

Hoi An was also hit badly by the typhoon. I huge tree was down in one of the small streets and one road was still completely filled with mud which they were trying to sweep up.The town is filled with small shops and is famous for making custom-made clothes quickly and cheaply. I had a pair of shorts made. Picked the material, wanted pockets on the sides, knee length ( haven’t seen anyone here in tennis shorts). They measured me at 11 in the morning and I came back at 6 for a fitting and picked up the final product the next day. They weren’t as inexpensive as I had thought but I didn’t try to barter. The quality is excellent, they fit perfectly and they should last forever.

Evidently, I was there during the full oon of the eighth lunar month (whenever that is). They were having the Mid-Autumn Festival all over the country. Supposedly, the parents have been busy all fall harvesting the crops and now it is time do devote time to the children. The kids of all ages work in teams. They have Dragon costumes. One carries the large head of the dragon with the body streaming behind and the others wear pants that match the body of the dragon, so it looks like a dragon with lots of legs. One of the group beats rhythmically and LOUDLY on a large drum they push around town. While the dragon goes thru lots of gyrations, another member of the group collects money or candy (they prefer money). They were all over town and the drumming lasted til about midnight.

Bought a city tour ticket whcih got me into several tourist sites, an old house, a pagoda, the assembly hall, and a traditional music concert. Very interesting but I have no idea about the icons and symbols. In the pagodas, there are usually several Buddhas and each is presented daily with fresh fruit and water and flowers and candy and incense. But I don’t know why. (The edibles are given to the poor or children after they have spent the day with Buddha. Nothing is wasted). I’ll have to learn more about the religion and what the symbols mean. It would make the visit more interesting. At the end of the traditional music concert the sang the last song to the tune of “Aulde Lang Syne” and clapped rhythmically. This seemed very strange to me but I have been to three musical events now and each ended this way.

In the old house, they had a “Confucious Cup”, the only one in Vietnam. If you fill the cup 80% full, you can drink the tea. BUT, if you go beynd 80%, ALL the contents drain out. It was a lesson in moderation from the great man. If you try to take too much, you can lose everything.

Took a tour to My Son ( pronounced ME sun). It is an ancient Hindu religious center built by the Cham people much like Angkor Wat in Cambodia but much smaller. The area was built from the 8th to the 15th centuries but then abandonned and rediscovered by th French in 1898. During the “American War”, as they refer to it here, the My Son was used as a staging area by the Viet Cong so we bombed the hell out of it destroying about 70% of the monuments. The buildings are of red brick and rather small. The entrance is always facing north and there are no dorrs or windows to the south as it is associated with death. Restoration is taking place slowly. Again I was at a loss as to the many carvings and symbols and thus lost some of the appreciation of the place. But still, it was very interesting.

The bus trip was interesting as well. The bus drives in the center of the road usually to allow the motorbikes to pass on both sides. Of course, we had to weave around the occasional cow crossing the road. We also had to avoid the crops, corn and sweet potatoes (is this a presidential moment?) which occupied about three of four feet on each side of the road. The crops were drying and would be fed to the animals.

Halfway back, we transferred to a boat where they fed us and took us to a traditional woodcarving village. They were doing incredible three-dimensional carvings. Incredible stuff that would take a long time but one mistake and you start over.

Back in town, they were still beating on the drums.

I didn’t get to the beach which was only a few kilometers away. I wasn’t there long enough and there was too much to do. But I did see blue sky and sunshine, something I haven’t see in HaNoi as yet.

So ends another tale in the Travels of Tom Terrific. More to come or you can just ignore them.

Love to all,

Tom

Trip to Hoi An

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hello All,

Well, here comes another long travelogue so hit delete if you wish.

I went to Hoi An a few weks ago for a long weekend. I fly to Da Nang and caught a taxi to Hoi An, about forty minutes to the south. Da Nang caught the brunt of Typhoon Xangzane and there was a lot of evidence of damage. Tree limbs were piled up on the edge of the streets, roofs were blown off and some smaller, ill constructed houses were completely destroyed.

The ride to Hoi An paralled the Pacific. I caught glimpses of the water but couldn’t see the beaches. Passed what is know as China Beach made famous by an America TV series about the war. Stayed at the Grassland Hotel which is about two kilometers from the center of town. The receptionists wore beautiful traditional dresses, long silk pants with a full-lenghth dress split of the side to just above the waist. The dresses button up to the neck and always have long sleeves, but are soft and flowing and beautiful. The Vietnamese value white skin and do everything they can to avoid the sun. On motorbikes, the women wear masks, hats and long gloves. I first though the masks were to avoid polution but now I think they are as much to avoit getting burned.

Decided to go into town and the hotel provided a bike for me to ride. Said to park it anywhere and lock it. That was an experience. Though Hoi An is a small town there was still plenty of motorbike traffic and plenty of honking of horns. I just tried to ignore it and go on.

Hoi An was also hit badly by the typhoon. I huge tree was down in one of the small streets and one road was still completely filled with mud which they were trying to sweep up.The town is filled with small shops and is famous for making custom-made clothes quickly and cheaply. I had a pair of shorts made. Picked the material, wanted pockets on the sides, knee length ( haven’t seen anyone here in tennis shorts). They measured me at 11 in the morning and I came back at 6 for a fitting and picked up the final product the next day. They weren’t as inexpensive as I had thought but I didn’t try to barter. The quality is excellent, they fit perfectly and they should last forever.

Evidently, I was there during the full oon of the eighth lunar month (whenever that is). They were having the Mid-Autumn Festival all over the country. Supposedly, the parents have been busy all fall harvesting the crops and now it is time do devote time to the children. The kids of all ages work in teams. They have Dragon costumes. One carries the large head of the dragon with the body streaming behind and the others wear pants that match the body of the dragon, so it looks like a dragon with lots of legs. One of the group beats rhythmically and LOUDLY on a large drum they push around town. While the dragon goes thru lots of gyrations, another member of the group collects money or candy (they prefer money). They were all over town and the drumming lasted til about midnight.

Bought a city tour ticket whcih got me into several tourist sites, an old house, a pagoda, the assembly hall, and a traditional music concert. Very interesting but I have no idea about the icons and symbols. In the pagodas, there are usually several Buddhas and each is presented daily with fresh fruit and water and flowers and candy and incense. But I don’t know why. (The edibles are given to the poor or children after they have spent the day with Buddha. Nothing is wasted). I’ll have to learn more about the religion and what the symbols mean. It would make the visit more interesting. At the end of the traditional music concert the sang the last song to the tune of “Aulde Lang Syne” and clapped rhythmically. This seemed very strange to me but I have been to three musical events now and each ended this way.

In the old house, they had a “Confucious Cup”, the only one in Vietnam. If you fill the cup 80% full, you can drink the tea. BUT, if you go beynd 80%, ALL the contents drain out. It was a lesson in moderation from the great man. If you try to take too much, you can lose everything.

Took a tour to My Son ( pronounced ME sun). It is an ancient Hindu religious center built by the Cham people much like Angkor Wat in Cambodia but much smaller. The area was built from the 8th to the 15th centuries but then abandonned and rediscovered by th French in 1898. During the “American War”, as they refer to it here, the My Son was used as a staging area by the Viet Cong so we bombed the hell out of it destroying about 70% of the monuments. The buildings are of red brick and rather small. The entrance is always facing north and there are no dorrs or windows to the south as it is associated with death. Restoration is taking place slowly. Again I was at a loss as to the many carvings and symbols and thus lost some of the appreciation of the place. But still, it was very interesting.

The bus trip was interesting as well. The bus drives in the center of the road usually to allow the motorbikes to pass on both sides. Of course, we had to weave around the occasional cow crossing the road. We also had to avoid the crops, corn and sweet potatoes (is this a presidential moment?) which occupied about three of four feet on each side of the road. The crops were drying and would be fed to the animals.

Halfway back, we transferred to a boat where they fed us and took us to a traditional woodcarving village. They were doing incredible three-dimensional carvings. Incredible stuff that would take a long time but one mistake and you start over.

Back in town, they were still beating on the drums.

I didn’t get to the beach which was only a few kilometers away. I wasn’t there long enough and there was too much to do. But I did see blue sky and sunshine, something I haven’t see in HaNoi as yet.

So ends another tale in the Travels of Tom Terrific. More to come or you can just ignore them.

Love to all,

Tom

Trip to Halong Bay

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Hi Everyone,
Well, I have a job starting October 26th here in Hanoi. Teaching 19 and a half hours to start but may increase somewhat later. Two days after I committed to this one, got an e-mail from the school in Danang stating they were interested, paid a lot more money, but didn’t know when a job would actually be available. Such is life. C’est la vie. Maybe another time. Still doing touristy things.
So, here comes another of those long, rambling tales of what I’ve been doing. If you’re not interested, please hit the delete button now. If you don’t want to be bothered with them in the future, please let me know. I won’t be upset or offended. I know that sometimes long e-mails cause trouble with your computers. And maybe you’re just not interested in Vietnam. Feel free to say, don’t send any more.
Well, here goes. Went on a three day trip to HaLong Bay east of Hanoi. Started with a three hour bus ride to the coast. Midway we stopped for refreshments at at “tourist” stop where they were making embroidered pictures. Over 100 young people sat at tables sewing. One person made the picture from start to finish. They had a drawing or photograph which they sketched on the cloth stretched in front of them. Maybe a tiger, a street scene, a landscape, a woman on a bicycle in traditional costume. Then they selected the colored thread they wanted and began to sew. A 20×24 inch picture took 25 to 30 days to complete. Larger ones took longer. They were incredible. You had to get close to see that they were embroidered rather than painted. It is a special art. I noticed that many of the people working there were crippled in some way. Maybe this was a vocation for those who could not work in the fields.
At HaLong Bay, we got on a boat which was very similar to a Chinese Junk. We had those funny looking sails though they never put them up. (other boats did). They fed us lunch immediately. Don’t remember what we had but there was a lot of it and it was good. Sat with a couple of nice young people from the Isle of Man, off the coast of Scotland. They refer to themselves as Manx, rather than Brits. Sailed out into the bay weaving through the islands. Most of you have seen pictures of HaLong Bay though you may not know it. Two thousand islands, each a huge rock coming out of the water and stretching straight up to the sky. Reminded me of Cypress knees at Reelfoot Lake, for you Tennesseans. First stop was the Amazing Cave. It was high up on one of the islands and we had a steep climb getting up there. I was soaked in sweat when we got to the top. The cave was huge but like any other, stalactites and stalagmites. At least it was cool. The view from the top was spectacular and I got pictures of the bay.
Next we went to TiTop Island, a short ride away. I had noticed this island before because it has a Pagoda on the very, very top. It also has a beach and we had the opportunity to swim. Rather than make another climb, I opted to cool off in the water. Others went to the top. All the tour boats stopped here, including a boatload of Russians, most of whom were overweight and wore bathing suits too small for their bodies.
Back on the boat, we sailed out into the bay and anchored for the night. Women in small fishing boats loaded down with merchandise, water, drinks, potato chips, cookies, etc., rowed out to us and called, “Buy from me?” There were several of these boats and they rowed from one boat to the next. We could even hear them after dark. Supper was excellent, Spring rolls, spinach, rice, cuttlefish (small squid) and a whole fish. I avoided the whole fish. Our group included the Manx, two Finns and six young French (4 girls and 2 boys). After supper, we played UNO and I got to practice my French. One boy lives in Aix-en-Provence and the others are from Istre, near Marseilles. Really a nice group.
The next morning, the women in the fishing boats were there bright and early selling the goods. We sailed to Cat Ba Island and got off the boat. We went to the National Park on the island and began a three mile trek. We climbed to the top of a mountain which had a metal tower on the top which offered a spectacular view of the area. I didn’t climb the tower. A lot of the climb up the mountain had been like climbing stairs, sometimes steeper. It was rugged and I was exhausted. One of the French girls noticed I was lagging behind and she slowed the others to let me catch up. Not only was I tired and winded, the tower had metal stairs. I’m not afraid of heights until I can look down though the structure on which I’m standing and see the ground. That bothers me. I knew I wouldn’t enjoy going up the tower so I didn’t. The climb down the mountain wasn’t a whole lot easier. I was by far the oldest in the group and it showed.
We found our van and rode to the hotel in town. Our room overlooked a large bay filled with the sailing junks. It had been a fishing village which now catered to tourists. We had lunch and were told we would go to Monkey Island at 2:30. We went to Monkey Island in another boat. They nosed into the beach and put down a board at a very steep angle and told us to climb down. The board, about 8 inches wide with 1×1 boards nailed on as steps, kept moving as the boat kept being pushed around by the waves. Anyway, we all made it. Our guide pointed out the path to climb to see the monkeys or we could go swimming. We set off to find the monkeys. This climb was steeper that the morning, but was only about fifty feet up. The French got to the top first and called down that the monkeys were there. I was near the top and saw a monkey about ten feet above. I grabbed a climb to climb up, looked down below, and felt a strong tug on my arm. I jerked my arm away and looked at it. My right forearm was bleeding. I had been bitten by a monkey. He was sitting on the limb screaming at me. Evidently, there was a small monkey sitting on the limb when I grabbed it and the big monkey, protecting the little one, attacked me. I had a deep cut about an inch long and and a spot about one-quarter inch round where the surface skin had been removed. Needless to say I started back down. I didn’t get any pictures of monkeys though I got a close-up view. One of the French girls was also bitten, but just a scratch.
We went back to the beach and got some first aid, disinfectant and bandages. We decided to go back to town immediately. In town our guide took us to a local doctor. He was a happy fellow wearing white pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He looked at my arm and told me I needed stitches. He put on a white jacket and a white pillbox cap. Now he looked like a baker. He sterilized his instruments by pouring a liquid on them and setting it on fire. He cleaned out the would and did a good job closing up the cut. We stopped at an Internet site and looked up Rabies, my major concern since I had not had a rabies vaccination before coming. It said I needed immunoglobulin and the rabies vaccination. The local doctor had neither. Supper at the hotel followed by more UNO.
Next morning, we got back on the boat and sailed back to the mainland with a stop for a swim half way. I didn’t swim because of my arm. Lunch in HaiPhong and the three hour ride back to Hanoi. Went to the SOS International clinic where they looked at my arm. Had a Doctor from Holland and one from Vietnam. I was in good hands. There was a debate as to what to do. They said that suturing the wound was the wrong thing to do. Never close an animal bite. They couldn’t decide if they should remove the stitches and reopen the cut or wait a day to see what happened. They opted for the latter. They gave me the immunoglobulin, some antibiotic, and the first of four shots, spaced out over for weeks, for rabies and told me to come back the next day. The immunoglobulin was VERY expensive so, if you’re coming to Vietnam, get the rabies vaccination first!
Went back the next day and they decided to remove the stitches. Pus began to ooze out, so they were pleased that they were doing the right thing. Ended up going back four days in a row getting the wound cleaned out and the dressing changed. Hope to have a nice scar so I can say, “Well, when I was in ‘Nam …”

It was a good trip. The area is beautiful and very different. It’s bizarre how the islands come straight up out of the water. If any of you have seen the French movie “Indochine”, you have seen HaLong Bay.
OK, more later on the continuing adventures of Higgiro.
Love to all,
Tom