Stop 22: Binh wanting to do Karaoke! -- Ninh Binh, Vietnam

We spent one day and one night in Ninh Binh, a small town about four hours south of Hanoi. The hotel staff were just a tad less a$$holey then Hanoi, but still managed to make us hate them and their existence. Wow, we are BEEZIES. The restaurant staff wasn’t any better, serving our Dutch amigos everything they ordered and us… only French fries. We had ordered fish and rice, but apparently when you run out of an ingredient in Asia you don’t say anything and just hope the customer doesn’t notice… we noticed. In the evening we had our first taste of true Vietnamese Karaoke. This consists of entering someone’s home/lobby, being escorted up to the bedrooms/karaoke rooms and being told to keep it down when the clock struck midnight. We sang our hearts out to Ba Ba Black Sheep and other American classics.

The next morning we headed to Ninh Binh’s main tourist attraction: a girthy river dotted with countless Vietnamese tourists wearing conical hats as they floated into the distance. Huge limestone karsts and mountains surrounded us as we occasionally spotted the lone goat climbing the cliffs… idiot. We secretly wished he would fall off, and we not so secretly wished the Vietnamese life-jacket wearing bags of fun would accidentally fall out of their boats. We floated under cliffs and through narrow canals, powered by our Vietnamese rower’s feet as she pushed the oars to and fro. Baaaa. (goat’s cry)

Stop 21: Holy Shit, Hanoi. Hanoi/Halong Bay/Cat Ba Island, Vietnam

Jen’s nursing nature was called on for the first time post-burger meltdown. Cam’s sickly nature was called on as her body temperature could’ve cooked an egg. Unfortunately for Senor Cushie Tushie, Cam was passed out on the floor as Jen made the solo trek to fetch from the airport the darkest person to grace Vietnam in 46 years. Brighton’s first day was spent populating the waiting room at the local hospital and buying any and all illegal substances at the local pharmacy. For your future convenience, writing the name of a medication on a sheet of paper qualifies as an Rx. Possibly self destructive, but potentially profitable? Extremely entrepreneurial, yes we know.

Although usually far from the kitchen, Cam made a compromise and decided to partake in a Vietnamese cooking class with Bright Sun. Instead of her most famous dish, cold cereal, she assisted in the preparation of fried spring rolls amongst other Vietnamese specialties.  They even learned to send fire feet into the air, nearly singeing all the hairs on their heads. We don’t want no more Whoopi Goldbergs in this world, thank you very much.

That afternoon we attempted to visit the city’s mausoleum, which houses Ho Chi Minh’s preserved body. Unfortunately for us, his soul was on vacation in Hawaii, while his cold embalmed body was visiting Russia.  Every October he visits his communist counterparts while also receiving cadaver upkeep.  A guy’s gotta look good. We rolled up to the Temple of Literature, snapped some photos with Vietnamese calendar girls and stopped nearby for smoothies and burgers. The night found us at the most exciting display of Asian culture on our trip. Vietnamese water puppets are a huge reason why Jen is embarrassed to be of Asian lineage. Short rainboot-wearing “professionals” wave puppets attached to long wooden sticks in front of a janky stanky red curtain and parade them through questionably murky water.  Lets be real here, we all know that the murkiness is because little Asians have little Asian bladders. You get the picture(s). 

Halong Bay – Vietnam

We can sum up Halong Bay in two words: Ass. Hole. No, not the rectum, sickos, just the card game. Stuck on a boat for 3 days we played endless amounts of this game, featured ourselves in countless photoshoots and slept on a boat for the second time on our trip. As the sun set, we embarked on a kayaking adventure, but by the time it got dark, Brighton was lost in the night. We spotted his teeth in the distance and were relieved to know he had survived. Yet Cam and Brighton would soon experience another adventure from which they may never recover. Have you ever heard of a volcano ending? Have you ever seen a volcano ending? If your answer is “yes” to question one, you’re most likely a middle-aged white man wandering the streets of Vietnam in search of a subservient Asian mistress. If your answer is “yes” to question two, I'm so sorry. As consolation you can join Cam and Brighton in the very prestigious and elite club, “VWA”, aka Volcano Witnesses Anonymous. We provide monthly trauma support for those who have happened upon a small Asian woman playing Nintendo with a white man’s joystick. Lucky for Jen, a nap in the room prevented the unique opportunity that would have allowed her admission into this selective group.

Stop 20: See a New-a Country Soon -- Sam Neua, Laos

Where to begin? Just attempting to write this entry brings back a surge of emotions we never hoped to revisit. But for you, our four dear readers, we would go to the ends of the earth and back. Unfortunately, this experience was the worst of our lives… ok maybe not, but it’s more fun to exaggerate.

It began harmlessly enough as we got into a van around 8pm that would arrive at our next destination, Sam Neua, around 4am. We figured we would fall right asleep and wake up to arrive at our next hotel unharmed. Easier said than done. Ironically, the “driver” simply did not know how to drive. He drifted around cliff corners in the pitch black at forty or fifty miles an hour. Turning the wheel one millisecond too late would have been the end of the world as we know it (imagine the tune as you sing along). The other two locals were fast asleep as we began pleading with the “driver” to slow down. His reaction made us feel as sick as his driving: he laughed creepily and uncontrollably. We weren’t sure if he was a Laotian or some sick horror film actor sent to radiate chills up and down our spines. At around midnight, we made him pull over and begged a random minivan of locals who spoke NO English to take us ANYWHERE. Either they didn’t understand or they were in on this demented joke. Knowing we couldn’t sleep on the side of the road (which we would’ve paid to do) for safety’s sake, we had only two options left. Jen prayed for the first (and last) time in her life and Cam took a chill pill (not for the first or last time). We held hands, bawled and watched for the first signs of sunrise. We arrived in physically pristine condition, yet emotionally destroyed. The night ahead was plagued by nightmares and sleeplessness.

We had come to Sam Neua to see some allegedly spectacular caves but didn’t have the willpower to re-enter a moving vehicle for a couple of days. Knowing we had to meet B-Sun in Hanoi the next day, we had no option but to nourish ourselves with our first bowl of Pho, buy a ticket to Vietnam and be on our not-so-merry way.

After confirming that Cam’s lost wallet had (of course) not been turned in, we departed the bus station en route to Hanoi. About two hours from the Laos/Vietnam border, an hour from any form of civilization and completely engulfed by rice paddies, the bus came to a halt and the driver demanded that the two American girls sitting behind us pay an extra $10 US each or they would have to leave the bus. Acting on principle and already the victims of a scam earlier in the morn, they took their bags, disembarked, and attempted to hitch their way to Vietnam. Before we had even reached the border, this episode put a very bad taste for Vietnam in our mouths (and a probably worse taste for these two friends of ours). Unable to help, we wished them the best, quickly exchanged information and each went on our ways. We eventually made it to the border, crossed over with only slight passport trouble and felt the unforgettable and slightly orgasmic feeling of paved highway for the first time in two weeks.

Stop 19: Massive Jars and UXOs on a huge lawn in Phonsavan -- Phonsavan, Laos

We only had one purpose in visiting Phonsavan, a small town in Northwest Laos: to see the Plain of Jars. No shockers here… just a plain of jars. Int. (Jen: WHY THE EFF DID WE COME HERE??) These jars remain a mystery to archaeologists and historians alike, as their size and weight make it impossible to understand how they were constructed or transported. We contemplated this little perplexity, but were more absorbed in rating on a scale from one to ten how much we hated the French girls we were stuck with. Eleven. Cool. Bye.

Stop 18: Beginning of the End in Vang Vieng -- Vang Vieng, Laos

From day one of our travels, we had heard countless stories about the notorious Vang Vieng, the tubing capital of the world. Soon to become our 2nd favorite pastime (you must never discover our first hah), this activity involves hopping from bar to bar via a lively and unpredictable river at the hands of a 12th generation Laotian innertube. The name of the game was drinking, and for the first time on our trip we won every round.  Other than the occasional concussion or blood-drenched knees it was a haven of whisky buckets, giant swings, and all the free bee-infused liquor you could stomach. One blonde Brit apparently couldn’t stomach the amounts he consumed.  His night kicked off with stealing a motorbike, crashing a motorbike, running from the cops, punching a cop, running again, and ended in getting arrested and paying his last Laotian dollars to the authorities through metal bars.  He had lost his money and his dignity.  After two days and too many bad decisions, it was time to hit the road jack on to more sacred and sober places.

Stop 17: With so much fun in the l-p-b, Its kinda hard bein’ Snoop d-o-double-g -- Luang Phra Bang, Laos

The night we arrived in Luang Phra Bang it was dark, calm and quiet. We checked into Chittana, which we now lovingly refer to as “Shitana” (thanks ben!!). When we woke the next morning we were so pleasantly surprised to find that the streets lined with bouginvailia, old French colonial homes, and cars straight out of the 1940s. We weren’t in Kansas anymore. Paper lanterns hung between palm trees as the night market brought this quaint city alive. Most of the light was candle and the romance of it all was undeniable. We had no doubt that this was one of our best stops so far.

Needing a Vietnamese visa we spent 4 days lounging in the cafés of LPB, sipping wine and coffee, and finishing Cam’s grad school apps. By the end of our final day, our visas had been approved and we reluctantly left this slice of old time paradise for our next stop on the Laotian circuit.

Stop 16: King Khong can't cross the Mekong -- Chiang Khong/Huay Xai

The following day we boarded a local bus to return to our favorite border town, Huay Suck my Xai. We spent the better part of one hour searching for a non-existent Indian restaurant and eventually gave up, ultimately settling on an overpriced, touristy, riverside karaoke hall.  The next morning we headed to the dock and boarded a massive slow boat that would haul us down the Mekong river for the next 2 days. As we were one of the last to arrive, we were stuck next to the toilet, on the floor for the seven hours to come.  Like a baby on a washing machine, Jen slept under the dripping bathroom sink and Cam read 90 books. Eventually we arrived in Pak Beng where we would spend the night eating Indian food, watching Prison Break, and preparing for another 7 hours on a boat. Determined not to mingle with obnoxious Canadians and the smells of night soil we made our way to the boat a couple of hours early, grabbed some luxurious seats (relatively speaking) and reveled in our catch. When our northern neighbor nemeses nestled into their wooden plank benches, we smiled at one another, looked out over the picturesque river and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy the second leg of our journey to Luang Phra Bang.