The morning of Monday April 27th found us in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh), Vietnam. Laura and I woke up in our hostel early and with purpose. Our passports, as you may imagine after 6 months of travel, have become filled with stamps of all shapes, sizes and colors. We needed more pages inserted, and that meant a trip to the US consulate. Any traveler will tell you that the consulate is a place of overly air-conditioned boredom. There are long lines, innefficient bureaucrats, and the cramped rooms always smell funny. So, expecting to spend all day trapped in the consulate vacuum we hustled out into the loud morning and made it to the consulate just before 9am only to find, to our dismay, a line out the door. Groaning, we ask the security guard for directions, but are pleasantly surprised when, after we describe our purpose, he shuttles us past the poor suckers waiting in line and before we know it we are in the overly air-conditioned room previously described. We walk right up to an empty window, and after filling out a form, the woman tells us to wait 30 minutes. Suuuure I think. This is where the real waiting starts ... Imagine our greater surprise at being outside the consulate, with newly thickened passports in hand some 20 minutes later!
Realizing that we now had a whole day ahead of us we decided to get to a bus station as quickly as possible because we had finished with Saigon and wanted to move to southern Cambodia. Our plan was to move south to a small Vietnam city named Rach Gia for the night. Then catch a bus the next morning to the Vietnam border town of Ha Tien. Then find someone to take us over the border to Kampot, Cambodia. The very nice, giggly girl booking our bus ticket was at first skeptical of our plan, insisting that we go north in Cambodia to Phnom Penh, as the border crossing there is supposed to be very easy for tourists. Well, this rustled our feathers a but and we assured the girl that we were game for a mode authentic experience. Needless to say, we decided to stick to our original plan, and called ourselves true adventurers ...
10 minutes later as I am clinging to some man for dear life as we swerve in and out of the legendary traffic in Saigon, I am regretting this bold move, and contemplating my lackluster medical insurance. The last time I found myself on the back of a motorbike, I was wearing a billowing skirt and sharing gelato with my very tall, dependable Italian man-friend as we cruised through the streets of Rome. This was decidedly NOT that situation. Now I was sweaty, smelly, and clinging to a man half my size praying that my backpack would stay in place in front of the driver where it was wedged between himself and the handles.
We make it to the bus station and are pushed into the very last two seats of the mini-van sized car we are taking on the 6 hour trip south to Rach Gia. I figured, after surviving the motorbike ride, which actually turned out to be fun, this part would be cake. There is a pattern developing here that I hope you are catching on to, being that very little turns out as I expect.
2 hours later, Laura and I have steams of nonstop sweat trickling down our faces because the air-conditioning is either off or broken, I have decided that the driver might seriously be trying to kill us all, and the small Vietnamese woman next to me (ie, sitting in my lap because I have to scrunch what must seem like my insanely long American legs into her space because I can't fit sitting forward) has already vomited for the first time. 4 hours later she has vomited again, inadvertantly thrown dried squid guts all over my leg (who carries unwrapped dry squid guts in their bag?), and has taken to fits of sleep which end up with her either falling into my lap, or the more painful crash of her skull against my poor shoulder. I tried to stay compassionate, but Laura can attest to the fact of me almost losing it. But, despite the general uncomfort, there were also moments of pure enjoyment. The act of just traveling like that is special. It was clearly the authentic way to go, as Laura was the only other tourist I saw all day, and going through the southern countryside was gorgeous. We survived the 6 hours, made it to Rach Gia and sat on the backs of more motorbikes to get to a hotel. Laura sweated he way through a bowl of spicy pho soup (really, have we mentioned that we sweat a lot? Even at night? I watched a trickle of sweat pass from her brow, down her face, off her chin, thankfully missing her soup) and then collapsed into bed after the day's adventures.
If you are still following me, you will realize I am only halfway through my story. This morning we woke up in Rach Gia, Vietnam and got back to the bus station where I was literally pushed and shoved and hustled by a small, plump Asian woman onto her bus to the border. She was a serious business woman, and also insisted on speaking rapid Vietnamese to me, but somehow we came to a price agreement. After two hours of bumping along on that vehicle (in which the woman sitting next to Fo vomited her breakfast ... Is it us, or them?), we realize we must be getting close to our destination because people are getting off every so often, but no one has said anything to us yet, so we stay put. Suddenly the bus driver signals to a man outside, who leaps on the bus and asks us if we are trying to cross the border into Cambodia. Our new friend's name is Nam, and when we give him the affirmative we are practically thrown off the bus to find ourselves ... Well, really to find ourselves in the middle of nowhere. But Nam (like Vietnam) and his friend Luk (like Luke) are standing by their trusty motorbikes and tell us that to get to Kampot, our Cambodian destination, our only option is to take their bikes. After haggling the price for a while, we agree.
We cross the border with Nam and Luk and begin our 2 hour drive through the farmland. Metaphorically or not, the paved road ended on the Cambodian side, and we found ourselves on an orange dirt road surrounded by jungle covered mountains and sprawling rice paddies and dodging huge water buffaloes. No matter what I say, no matter what pictures you may see, there is honestly nothing I can do to give this experience justice. It was magical. Well, actually, 20 minutes later it started raining, so then it was wet, but I think I can speak for Laura here when I say that I have not very often had such a strong sense of LIVING. I was soaked, we were going fast enough for the raindrops to sting my face, and I found myself again clinging to a small (I think most people from the united states over the age of 10 weigh more than this person) man for dear life. The ride was eventful as we splashed our way to Kampot. Highlights include squealing everytime we caught air going over a ditch, and sharing girl scout cookies during Nam and Luk's cigarette break. Luk was very amused by me and would point out things of interest as we sped along. Laura and I were both asked out on dates upon saying goodbye, but I warned of my 2 large, Sicilian brothers at home and our drivers left.
Now we find ourselves safe and sound in Kampot. We had dinner while watching the sunset on the river that cuts through the town. We found a very cute guesthouse and are planning on spending a few days in this quiet utopia.
We figure we have earned some days of staying put, exploring a new town, making new friends.
Love to all. Jca
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
1 comments:
I loved sweating in Italy when I was there. Maybe 6 hours on a bus in Cambodia just isn't as glamorous. Sending my love. Apparently we were supposed to have some 5 year reunion this weekend at L'ville. I'd rather be sweating in Asia. :)
Post a Comment