here we are in...

Con Mèo

January 2, 2020 by Beth Leave a Comment

Winter Solstice, the shortest and therefore possibly darkest day of the year came and went. Light is shining longer each day. Just in time as we embark upon the year of perfect vision. 2020.

2020 will be the year of the rat. Lucky for us the lunar New Year zodiac animal revealed to us is not the rat, but instead, the cat.

If you think that feeding a stray is a one-off, then you are probably wrong.

Persistently

pleading

outside

the door.

Where did she come from?

Stray and feral cats here are abundantly abundant. Why so many? People get cats, they reproduce, kittens get abandoned to fend for themselves. Puppies are everywhere. The field of animal welfare barely exists and at best is baby stepping forward. There are no veterinary schools at the universities that teach pet welfare; the vet programs teach animal care pertaining solely to livestock science and food production. Consequently, pet vets get trained out-of-country and then return and do their best.

Many strays are actually abandoned pets from short-term travelers.

Many people come here for a brief time. Backpackers, teachers, hospitality helpers, restaurant starters, wanderers, you name it. They adopt a pet while here, and then they depart. Without their pet. The expenses and wait-times for taking pets across borders are laborious but not impossible. Re-homing pets here is difficult.

Hội An has a few animal shelters but they are ALL FULL. If you aid an animal, it’s yours.

Having a pet as a family member is slowly growing in popularity.

For many years, dogs have been used primarily for food and security. Stealing and smuggling continues to bring in large amounts of money for a small few. Many of the SE Asian countries are juggling [hopefully] changing attitudes towards the dog and cat meat business. This Guardian article goes into depth about this and the inter-connections of the smuggling industry as other countries try to eliminate their dog markets.

One way the stray animal population is reduced is by the animal catchers who drive around during the day with big cages and nets. They also take pets. Then under the cover of darkness, thieves scour the neighborhoods, using nets, traps and stun guns. The caught animals (many with collars, out on an evening walkabout) are then sold to the cat and dog restaurants. The local Facebook pages are overflowing with posts by frantic owners searching for their beloved furry family members. Sometimes they will courageously go to the back of the known dog and cat meat restaurants to see if their pet is there, and will buy it back. For time is of the essence.

There is a profuse amount of information online. These articles here here and here show some local direct action with a brief attempt to describe the dilemma.

It is complicated. Cultural and policy shifts are slowly on course to illuminate that stolen pets are not food. That theft is a crime. And that people have the power to make change.

Change can’t happen without enlightenment. Lacking is the all-important educating of pet owners and the general population regarding the animal population explosion. Don’t let your pets make more babies. Sterilize. There are not enough homes for all the puppies and kittens. Rarely a week goes by that I don’t hear kittens in roadside bushes, heart-breakingly meowing. Or see puppies barely alive, dumped. And the ones that elude the catchers and survive on the streets have horrible, danger-filled lives with disease, untreated injuries and starvation.

Looking at the entire truth and the cultural differences is hopefully illuminating.

Recently, in popular cities like Hội An with a constant influx of westerners arriving with their own pets, a new market has emerged. Theft of fancy breeds. These purebred pets such as corgis, doodles, dalmatians, bulldogs, etc. are stolen not to eat but to be resold elsewhere in the boutique breed market, or to be ransomed to the owners who will pay large sums of money to get their pets back.

This all ran through our brains when we decided to feed this insistent feline. We can’t possibly fix the complex system on our own, but maybe one cat won’t go hungry while we try to locate its owner and educate ourselves about the local cultural attitudes.

No owner appeared. We took the responsible route and got her spayed.

And because life is full of surprises, the vet called to let us know our cat was already missing her lady cat reproductive parts. She closed her up. This time we notched her ear, which is the universal sign of the sterilization surgery for stray and feral cats. Third time would NOT be a charm. This also corroborates our abandoned pet theory. Someone paid to have this done once upon a time. The current sterilization fee is ₫ 500,000, about $21 USD.

Our household has expanded. It was a surprise expansion.

In order for her to recover from the surgery, we kept her inside. Turns out she likes being inside the house. All those soft pillows and beds and up-high places to hide. And laps.

So, we have adopted a cat. She’s chatty, patient yet quite punctual for her meals, and seemingly happy. She relaxes easily. All in all, this self-sufficient kitty is a sweetheart. Doug calls her the Vietnamese word for cat (Mèo, sounds like “may-oh”). That must be her new name.

Note. We are not ‘cat people’. We are both firmly in the ‘dog people’ tribe.

What do dog people do when they have a cat? Ask a lot of questions. Answers and continued support has come from our neighbors at Vietnam Animal Aid and Welfare. If you are looking for a vegan animal rights organization to support, please consider them with your donations, volunteering or veterinary assistance. They are swimming upstream and starting to make a rippling difference here in Hội An.

A willing subject for fast sketch-and-paint practice.

And don’t ask what we’re going to do when we return to the US. We don’t know that answer yet. I’m sure it will be illuminated when it is time.

May the light bring brightness and the answers to the questions you didn’t even know you were asking. Happy Solstice. Happy New Year. Happy new cat. Come visit.

Patiently waiting for

you

paradise

November 23, 2019 by Beth 1 Comment

Yes, we are living in a sort of paradise right now, equally positioned between Àn Bang, a beautiful beach boasting gorgeous sunrises AND sunsets, and the UNESCO world heritage ancient town of Hội An. Both places stunning on their own.

Paradise always has a few minor hidden detractors, right?

Like NEVER put shoes on without a quick shake-out. Thankfully we’re already trained to do this from living in the Pacific NW. Spiders seem to love hiding in shoes. Here, little frogs accidentally hop in as soon as the sun sets.

Plus that time I found a nest of baby mice in my work boots…

Shoe checking is just common sense, yes?

Lately, though, it’s ants. Little teeny-weeny tiny ants.

Not a new thing, we’ve had them everywhere we have ever lived. There is an enormous number of ant species inhabiting South East Asia.

I thought we had forged an understanding with our local ants. We won’t leave food or garbage temptations inside the house and we’ll put everything in tight-lidded glass jars or in the fridge. In return, we’ll gently sweep you outside to a healthier environment if we see you inside.

But they are tricksters.

This morning we were engrossed in our morning ritual of pouring the hot water over the coffee filter, happily watching the grounds bloom. Wait. Little dots come scrambling up the inside of the paper. What? How did you guys get there? Then I realized I didn’t put the paper cones into anything different than their cardboard box. Paper isn’t food, dudes.

And the reason I have a water bottle at my bedside table WITH A LID is because, well….one night I picked up my glass of water for a mid-night drink and whoa, did it taste funny…AND it had a texture. I should not have turned on a light but I did. Pool party! I’m sure my stomach acids did their thing for the population that went that direction before I stopped my swallowing.

Note to the curious. They tasted a bit like almond extract. I LOVE that flavor almost more than anything, but I’m fine not repeating this event.

Then yesterday I was sliding open the curtains and plop. Something smallish but weighty thudded onto my forearm. Any guesses? Mr. Gecko. Geckos don’t bite, they eat mosquitos and bugs and the only existing downside to our mutual existence here in this house is that their poop falls onto everything as they nocturnally navigate the ceiling beams. (You should see the top of my laptop.) I was overtaken by an adrenaline rush so I yelled a little something and flung my arm and sent Mr. Gecko on a jet cruise, sailing across the room. Luckily, he had a soft-blanket landing.

The entire house has these beams on the ceiling. Perfect gecko thoroughfares.

Later last night I was quietly sitting, reading on my ipad in the semi-darkness. Low lights attract less night-fliers, right? Something lightly landed on my arm in the exact spot where the gecko had alit. No adrenaline this time, so I had time to take a stab at identification. Too dark to see, then…blink blink…blink blink. It was a firefly! Magical little beetles. Then fleetingly wondered if they bit and decided I didn’t want to find out, so walked outside and [delicately this time] arm-flung once again.

Last week I walked up to the front of my white house, and was drawn to something new that stood out against the white.

Aliens guarding their mother ship. What are they? They stayed in place 3 days, not moving at all unless prodded. One night they suddenly all departed, leaving their pod nursery. Or eggs. Which are still there, unaltered.

As I’m writing this and looking out the door, I watch this beauty scurry up a pole and proceed to sun itself on the trellis. Including the tail it is 18 inches long. The toes on the hind feet are each 1-inch long.

Just a sample of the interesting array of critters that randomly scurry or fly by. I’ve left out many others. Oops. Went to fry some bánh chưng for a snack and a small jumping spider accidentally committed suicide in the pan oil.

Glad I spotted it, although it would’ve just been protein, right? Their venom only hurts their prey, not harmful to humans. Even if ingested?

Cool.

Unless you’re about to visit us, then DISREGARD EVERTYHING I JUST SAID.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

November 7, 2019 by Beth 1 Comment

My brain is full of thoughts as we pack up and close out this chapter of our Lopez Island summer life. I DO want to write it all down because I DO want to remember everything.

But where should I start?

Should I fill in some blanks from the winter in Hanoi before we even came home to Lopez?

Like the joy of seeing good friends who made the journey across the oceans to hang with us without knowing exactly what they’d find? The friends, family and acquaintances that came our direction and brightened our days?

Richard and Liz from NYC spent 3 glorious weeks exploring with us.

Doug with Eliza, our niece from Oakland, locating skate shops.

Bich shared her family recipes, including these gac-colored tapioca pearls, a special Tet treat when cooked, cooled and smothered in sweet coconut milk.

Or the enthusiastic learners in various rural areas that I was lucky enough to meet throughout the year? These high school students live in Thanh Miện district, 1.5 hours SE of Hanoi.

We attempt our introductions in Vietnamese.

After class, we’re treated to a boat ride to visit stork island while snacking on raw jicama.

Along with teaching, other fun stuff happened. I could write about Doug’s bass addition to the short-lived but raucous psychedelic surf-punk band called Super Yoko Space Cult.

Paul, Liz and Doug pre-gig.

Or fast forward, should I talk about the work we’ve done this summer on our studio? How Doug has ‘all the clever’ when adapting ways to lift and hold heavy plywood over our heads, fitting it perfectly in a not-so perfectly square building? How building a studio together is actually an eNORmous lesson in patience, for both of us? Let’s re-measure, just in case. Good idea, regardless of who suggests it.

And there ARE actually tools for smaller hands and yes they’re hard to locate.

Totally. Worth. It.

Hello, little trim saw.

Or how about one week of the summer that was spent tucked away at singing camp in the Oregon Cascade Mountains with a group of 40 others who sang, talked, laughed, cried and tried to make sense of this confusing world with love and music? A monumental week indeed.

Some of the brightest highlights I could include were the emotional meetings I had with my birth family relatives for the first time. I have brothers from a shared father! Cousins my age! How can I describe the overwhelming feeling of being accepted into a family 60 years after being born when they didn’t even know I existed? I continue to explore and enjoy the open arms that have been extended my way, and open mine in return. Thanks, Smith Family. And nope, I didn’t get the chin cleft but I did grow up with that sweet gap between my front teeth. Jet-spraying water out that gap was one of my childhood super powers.

Surrounded by cousins Georgia and Carolyn. Our dads were brothers.

Or I could write about how hard it is right now, saying our goodbyes to our family. Like our new grand baby, born last winter and is now 8 months, who will be walking and probably even skateboarding next time we see him? Shouldn’t we just camp out in their back yard and watch him grow every day? And admire how loving and parental his parents have become, now that they are the parents? He’s adorable, the smartest kid ever, and has a smile that will melt an iceberg, in case you were wondering.

Not to mention ALL the kids and grandkids that we’re leaving for awhile. Sure, they’re grown up and don’t need us at all anymore but what about the fact that they’re so interesting and engaging that we just want to hang around them because we like them as the people they’ve become? How to write about that?

Or the Oakland family visit…if there was a way to pack everyone up and drag them with us, we would.

3 of the 5 Yule sisters at the Picardie House.

Or how we like to sit and watch the roving band of wild turkeys pass our front door, knowing they’re unaware of the crisis this planet’s population is facing?

And listen to the bird songs, and watch the brown creepers hop only upward on the trees while the nuthatches hop only downward, and the towhees hop anywhere on the ground. How can we explain the beauty of the sunsets and clouds on our bay, where the colors are indescribable? Where the seabirds fly and squawk and the sea otters dip and dive? And the Whidbey Island Naval Air Station growler jets regularly scream overhead, their core-shaking roars a jarring reminder that they are training for war? With no power to do anything about it? It’s a lot to feel.

Mother Earth,

from the Lopez Island portion of the global climate march.

I think I won’t write about any of that. I’ll leave it like this, tuck in a few photos once I remember how to use the new Gutenberg wordpress editor. Then call it good.

UPDATE: We are happily back in Vietnam, where we feel like we belong, for now.

**We relocated from Hanoi to Cam Ha, near Hoi An City.**

We still love Hanoi but want a little less big city and a little more fresh air. The average low/high temperatures in Hoi An City are 73° and 86° F.

Goodbye Hanoi.

We will miss you.

We’ll find a place to unpack our bags and live our lives for another year. We will make music. We will fit in dice games, stories, visits, and trips (still have to restamp our visas every 3 months), popped corn, fried lotus root and happy hour concoctions. And daily beach swims, weather permitting. Because now with the monsoon season, the typhoons, hurricanes and tropical storms may happen. We are learning the difference.

We signed a rental lease on a sweet house in Cam Ha, outside Hoi An City. We are unpacking, settling in and forging onward.

An Bang beach is 10 minutes from our new house.

Ready for visitors!

it’s the little things

December 19, 2018 by Beth 1 Comment

We moved. We said goodbye to our 1-room studio apartment and hello to our 3-floor house in Long Bien. At 5 km away from Hanoi, it’s close to what we know and love, but far enough away to enjoy a different daily pace.

Front of house.
Back patio
Command central.
Top floor clothesline and garden.
Fire with scavenged wood.

Bonus. It means we get to drive across the beloved Long Bien Bridge a LOT. This bridge is unique and I love crossing that 2 km span every single time. The driving surface is raggedy and rustic, pebbled with holes and bumps, and the other drivers on the bridge are on their cell phones, basking in the breeze from the river below or just taking in the scenery. The braver tourists jam the lanes, their cameras and mouths agape, and the locals take photos while balancing on the center train line. I love it. It makes me feel alive.

But this isn’t about the beloved bridge. It’s about food. MY food.

How grateful I am for some recent little discoveries about food. And I wanted to share. Because maybe you’ll have a discovery that will make a difference.

I’ve always wrestled with autoimmune issues and have been using food to negotiate how my body feels and to heal, with great results. It’s easy to accomplish this in the US. But here in Hanoi it’s harder to do. So I have days (weeks) with flares and down time, which I have accepted as the price I pay to live here. But guess what? Now with a kitchen that has an oven and a gasp conduction cook top, I can cook. Compliant ingredients were the next step.

I’m sharing my recent finds.

I’ve discovered a source for beef marrow-filled bones. With free delivery. Huzza. Bone broth. Roasted marrow. With Himalayan pink salt. My personal nirvana. We also found some good, local pork shoulders, Doug’s favorite. Because…OVEN!

Bone broth made with roasted beef bones looks like heaven to me.

I found the AfroMiniMart [closet] that sells pure cassava and plantain flours, with no additives. Double squeal. Tortillas. Crackers. Breaded anything and everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how thrilling it is to add these ingredients to my pantry.

Pure cassava flour.
First attempt at hand-smashed cassava tortillas.
Pure plantain flour.

Next. Coconut milk yogurt. This is a daily staple, when possible. I bought a simple yogurt maker (identical to my TIOLI acquired maker on Lopez) that makes perfect yogurt with the vegan cultures carried over from the USA. After many different market visits, we found pure coconut milk with no additives. Success.

Good fat. Good milk. Good thing I like coconut.

I can get plenty of pure coconut oil here. For variety, we found real olive oil at the “gourmet” store. It’s good but definitely comes with a gourmet price. The stock continually changes and I wonder how some of the product found it’s way there. Like Costco’s Kirkland brand. How did it get there?

Dates. Another gourmet item. You know how much I love to sauté dates and add sea salt. MMMNNNnnnnnn.

One more staple is this gorgeous honey. Honey and dates are my 2 sugar sources. For some reason, the markets are flooded with pasteurized honey. Raw honey is tricky to locate. This one is wonderful.

It may seem like I’m complaining about being here. Nope. I love it here. But I also love feeling good. So why am I telling you this? If you’ve ever felt under the weather for a long time, then it changes and suddenly it feels like the clouds have lifted, the sky is blue, angels are singing–then you know how fantastic it can be. Daily life takes a lot of energy. I like to be present. Doing things. Not stumbling around, tired, feeling crappy. Finding these little things makes an enormous difference and lets my body rest and heal. So that I have more leeway to sample ALL the other interesting food here in Asia.

Here’s hoping you discover little things that make equally large differences. That is my holiday wish for you!

seasonal changes

December 18, 2018 by Beth Leave a Comment

You may think it is unendingly hot and humid here. We did, when we were first considering Vietnam. Turns out that describes the typical monsoon climate of southern VN, not here in the north. Hanoi is on the 21st parallel north.

Sure, we have seasons here. Two of them. The hot, muggy, rainy summer season has just ended and we’re entering the cold, gray, dry winter season.

The change in the weather unleashes so many feelings for us. Maybe we need the seasonal changes as much as nature does. Worldwide, people react to these changes. A slight temperature dip brings about a wardrobe change, some recipe changes and more noticeably, a joy. People seem happy. Is this universal? Cooler temperatures roll around. The aroma of fallen leaves, the fresh, clean air is the scent of earth revitalized. Time to reflect, recharge and reconnect. It is here.

I am not talking about the current apocalyptic, catastrophic life-ending climatactic changes and the ensuing joy-less depression.

It was a lovely summer on Lopez Island, way up on the 48th parallel N. Glorious. Laid back. Quick. A minor amount was accomplished constructing the Lopez studio and a major amount conquered in the eating kale department. How would we survive without Horse Drawn Farm? This farm, half-way between the ferry terminal and our place, grows voluptuous, beautiful produce. If you had visited, you’d know about the beauty of the produce and how lucky we are that they farm on the island, because we’d have dragged you to their farm stand.

Bounty of tomatoes and eggplants. — Nightshade section at the self-serve Horse Drawn Farm stand.

Doug bought a real motorcycle after getting his endorsement.

Visits and visiting happened. We love and miss our family and friends.

Amy and Maggi, thanks for road-trippin’ all the way up.

Reunion with life-long friends in Hackensack, MN.

When it was just the two of us we worked on the studio.

Nailing the last row of shingles, one end.
Nailing the last row from the other end.

Beth won the door paint rivalry. Purple.

It was a lean crabbing season, in part due to the combination of cool weather, that small hole in the boat, and a non-aligning tide schedule. Boat-dragging at low tide stinks. But not the view. It does NOT stink.

Our one good catch was 9 enormous male Dungeness.
Impromptu crab-fest. And Doug’s renown cabbage slaw.

Our half-acre is home to about 30 Douglas fir trees, ranging in age from 20 to 100 years old. Some struggle with a slow-growing brown root rot. Over time, we’ve been watching 7 old, infected trees that were dying. They’d been weakened to the point that a big wind storm would drop them on our living quarters. We had to deal with them. Translated, that means we had them chopped down into 12 foot sections. Then we bucked, rolled and stacked the rounds to dry for the year. Lumberjacking. Big fun. Right, Grands?

Log rolling. Wall building. For drying wood, not keeping others out.

Being back in Hanoi feels like home. Since our return, we searched for and found a house that doubles as a violin building studio. With guest rooms. Score–the kitchen is big AND has an oven. We released the hope that we’d find a garden-able yard. But we do have patios front, back and up high on the top-level with lots of big plants, vegetables, herbs and other growing things that definitely count as garden type materials.

We’ve unpacked this truckload and and have spread our junk out among 3 floors.

We are acquainting ourselves with this new area east of Hanoi. Tourists stick to the other side of the river. It means we get to stretch ourselves to communicate entirely in Vietnamese. And pantomime. Our handiest lifesaver is a smart-phone photo. A picture is definitely worth a thousand [mispronounced] words.

Where to buy food is always at the top of our to-do list. Our prior apartment was a short walk to a large wet market, with fresh vegetables, fruits, meats and more, available every day, sold without excess packaging or folderol whatsoever. Here in Long Bien, we’re on the prowl for something similar. So far we’ve seen some scattered dinnertime sidewalk vendors and a few obnoxiously large Vinmart stores, located in the lower levels of the scattered high-rise apartments that dot this side of the river. We’ve been in them. Too much walmart-y stuff, not enough fresh, local food. Not our thing.

We drive across the car-free Long Bien bridge often. Motorbike lanes flank both sides of the center railroad tracks on this 2 km span of the Red River.

We continue to walk around, exploring and partaking in the liveliness of everyday life here. Some photos I refuse to snap because doing so would be rude, so let me describe 2 colorful moments from today. An elderly woman in her 80s is seated on a short plastic stool on the sidewalk, at her family’s tea stand. Elegant. Enviable posture. Long gray hair beautifully wound up, snug with a carved hair clasp. Hands folded, in her lap. Watching us walk by, she smiles and waves. With both feet immersed in a large, worn, red plastic bucket, soaking. (Later, learn there’s fresh ginger in hot water.) Next picture this. A man in his 70s, regal and poised, slowly pedals his ancient-looking upright bicycle, also with impeccable posture. Wearing a dapper fedora hat probably from the 50’s. And well-worn cotton pajamas. We smile at each other and nod hello. We’re all the same underneath whatever clothes are on the outside. Human. Fueled by connections.

We’ve noticed a few down jackets appearing, a precursor for the cold front barreling down from China. The temperature is falling daily. Winter has officially arrived. Hopefully not for long.

Come visit! Not only is there a phở nhà hàng (diner) right next door, our new ‘hood has a horse.

The horse across the street in our neighborhood. Bureau of grass control.

bạn nhất means ‘friends, best’

November 19, 2018 by Beth 2 Comments

As I swing in a hammock, I listen to the flapping of our drying clothes in the warm breeze, and watch them lightly flutter. I realize how lucky I am. Not just to be here at this beach hideout, at what is surely a little slice of heaven on earth, but to be here with two of my oldest friends.

Clothesline back story: after dragging the rope home from way down the beach then untangling it, I stood, contemplating which knot to use to secure it. My feet and legs started burning. I was standing in a fire ant hang out, which was at the base of the tree. I finally got the line up, but anytime we had to get clothes off the far end of the line, we’d have to step lively, run, then splash the big, biting fire ants off with the water hose. They actually latch on with their mouth, then sting with their tail. This always involved adrenaline and screaming. Then laughing. Ok, back to the narrative.

Oldest in that I’m the youngest (by 1 month) of the trio, but also old in the sense that we met at the UW during our 2nd year of college in 1978 as *ahem* budding forestry students.

Beth, Kathi and Nancy.

Friends for 40 something years. We haven’t lived in the same city for 38 of those years yet we have remained fast friends. I recently chided them into visiting Hanoi. Sure, between them they’ve traveled extensively, but Vietnam definitely was NOT in their top 5 upcoming destinations.

They did it anyway. My incredible negotiating skills? Guilt? Thinly veiled bribes? They bought their economy tickets and came. Yay for friends. And drat. Nancy started with her very first leg of the journey being canceled due to a typhoon. Perfect chance to practice that Buddhist acceptance thing. On the bright side, she unexpectedly got to explore the Hong Kong airport and eat soup dumplings.

Seeing places I love through the eyes of these two has been delightful. They have a courageous curiosity with a no holds barred attitude. We could all say what we thought. And we did. They deconstructed a few mental walls that I had built during my years living here. It’s good to shake things up, right?

The Angkor Wat complex outside Siem Reap is large and sprawling, with endless sky.

Every day was different although evenings followed a routine involving dice and happy hour with the right amount of white wine, rum or the prevailing spirits of the day. Sample some house made rice wines in Hoa Binh? Yes, please. Cambodian infused liquors in hand painted bottles? Of course. Bia? Better than water. We’ve learned who has a beer addiction and who has a Sauv Blanc preference and who is the cocktail snob. Each night also revealed a new dice queen. Nancy. It’s always Nancy!

₫50,000 vnd for the bottle of house made sticky rice wine. That’s $2.16.

This hilltop, a 20 minute climb from our cabin on a small island south of Cambodia, was an apt location for expressing gratitude and waxing philosophical.

We stumbled our way through the slippery hillsides of northern Vietnam. TaVan, outside SaPa, proved to be rich with panoramic views, human connections, clucking chickens and uh…mud.

The rice fields were harvested a month prior to our arrival. The seed heads had been chopped off to extract and dry, while the rest of the plants remain in the ground until they get burned. We saw a lot of rice fields being burned.

The weather was cloudy and misty in the north, but not enough to deter day hikes. The trails had some deep ruts. We almost lost Nancy in one.

Most mornings in TaVan, we shared stories with local women selling wares. These Hmong villagers make a living and maintain their cultural identities with embroidery and indigo dying. They are the age of our own kids. We brought 12 pairs of reader glasses and passed them along. Aging eyes are universal. They were certain that their moms, dads and aunties could use the glasses.

She is showing us her 3 year old son, on a phone that a traveler gave her. Which reminds me to bring old phones the next time I return.

MiMi (r) who I remember from visiting TaVan last year, and her friends, sewing together while we all talked and laughed. I’m not sure who asked more questions, us or them. They are probably laughing at our attempts to speak some Hmong words.

Ample walking opportunities on narrow mountain roads outside TaVan. Note the after school card game on a big rock.

Washing our boots off in the kitchen, equipped with a pizza oven. The homestay owner heard about pizza ovens from some Italian visitors, so he constructed is own using directions found on the internet.

We saw temples, pagodas, alters, shrines and monuments. We rode in tuk tuks, taxis and cars, and ate a lot of la lot (heh heh). We occasionally got lost. We had massages, rode bicycles, walked, swam and snorkeled. We bussed, flew, boated and climbed. We read, slept, ate and drank. It was everything we had hoped it would be, and more. No one got sick or injured more than a sunburn. We screamed a few times. Surprise frog visits in the dark tend to cause that reaction.

La lot leaves wrapped around ground port and/or chicken. When grilled it releases a unique, herby flavor.

These friends wore matching plaid outfits while temple hopping in Siem Reap.

Reading aloud the historical facts to us. My hero.

It must’ve been funny.

Waiting. Inner courtyard, Angkor Wat. 90 degrees. You can’t see the dripping sweat.

I can’t even begin to count how many lemon ices we consumed. These are the perfect quencher. Limes are sometimes called lemons. Lemons are imported so they’re not readily available and if they are, cost a lot.

It’s hard to convey what all we did throughout the month. Our experiences were energizing and exhausting. We will continue unpacking our memories for quite awhile to understand the impact of our travels. We’ve pondered most of life’s mysteries, and for the record, have no answers but do know it’s always better shared with friends.

Cheers.

ngày bình thường ordinary day

May 3, 2018 by Beth 1 Comment

Yay for travel posts to help us remember the details. Most days, though, we usually stick around Hanoi.

A typical day is not quite as exciting as a travel day. We take tiếng Việt lessons for 3 hours, twice a week at the college of Vietnam Language and Studies, a branch of the National University. This tonal language is difficult yet remarkably enjoyable to us. Beats sudoku for the brain any day.

I can procrastinate from studying in any language, in any country, at any age. (Yes, right now…)

Our view from the 4th floor classroom is the men’s dorm.

The hallway to our classroom.

Doug’s violin shop is 15 minutes by motorbike away from our apartment. He works everyday, if he can. His shop, aka small studio apartment, is in the same alley as our favorite grocery store, Naturally Vietnam, which sells responsibly produced food.

Happy worker. He posts occasionally on his Violinisto website.

We also read a lot. Most online news sites are available, although sometimes they get blocked. Like the BBC. When we’re not depressing ourselves with US and world politics, we each have our current favorite topics. I have been reading everything I can get my hands on about systemic racism. This book by Seattle author Ijeoma Oluo, So You Want to Talk About Race, is my current favorite. Here’s a comic review of it, too. Doug’s favorite is Jeriah Bowser’s Elements of Resistance. Just in case you wanted some reading ideas.

Recently we attended a mesmerizing show called Lang Toi – My Village at the historic Opera House. This acrobatic presentation of rural life using traditional music knocked our socks off. The short video link is worth watching.

Hanoi Opera House, built in 1910.

Sometimes my tutoring takes me to the edge of Hanoi. High rises are being constructed constantly. The haze is from the burn preparation of nearby rice fields.

All big buildings have underground parking garages that look something like this. This cost 3000 vnd to park. 13cents.

Most of our days include this late afternoon ritual of seeds and coffee. And sometimes an orange. Which is green.

Sitting on our balcony, looking west over hồ Trúc Bạch.

We will be on Lopez Island for the summer. Come visit and we promise to make one of our favorite meals, bun cha.

Serendib

April 24, 2018 by Beth Leave a Comment

The cold weather (50s) and the Tet holiday (everyone leaves) provided two compelling reasons to temporarily ditch Hanoi. We travel often with our friend Douglas and this was no exception. Off we went to Sri Lanka with no firm plans except a ticketed return date.

Sri Lanka is an island south of India that is the size of western WA. With 20 million people. The population of WA state is 7.5 million. Sri Lanka is compact.

Historic Buddhist ruins in the upper center, tea plantations blanketing the hills in the lower center, and beaches all the way around. This country is 8 years out of a 26-year-long civil war between the Tamils and the Singhalese. 8 years is not long in terms of readjustment. The infrastructure is recovering, albeit slowly. Trains and buses, both inexpensive by local standards, are the primary mode of travel. The wealthier citizens own cars. Tuk tuks and motorbikes rule the outlying roads, with bicycles and cows not far behind. Walking the train tracks is acceptably the cheapest and shortest way to travel between villages.

Next to the tracks are well-worn paths to step into when a train passes.

Yes, we did.

We started by visiting Douglas’ friend living just north of the capital, Colombo. The rice paddies outside their neighborhood were loaded with birds and wildlife. And water monitors! OMG. Imagine a little lizard crossing your path. Then expand it to 3 feet or 4 or 6 feet. They resemble crocodiles. But they are lizards, and they cross the roads often. Serious adrenaline rush every time they crossed our paths.

I didn’t get a good photo of a water monitor, but here’s our friend capturing a neighborhood cow.

With so many Sri Lankan beaches to choose from, we started our route at the furthest beach town we could find. We took an 8-hour train ride to Trincomalee with a 30-minute tuk tuk to Nilaveli. Small, quiet town. Expansive, swimmable beach. Check.

Nilaveli is colorful.

School lets out as we first arrive in Trincomalee.

Locals standing around to cool off in the water. We loved the swimming.

Nilaveli is NOT teeming with restaurants. We met this family that invited us home into the living room cum restaurant. It was one of our best meals in Sri Lanka. To top it off, after they discovered our love of music, the college-aged kids stopped studying and sang a traditional song for us. During the civil war, at age 16 Margaret was sent to Germany to nanny because her family couldn’t afford food. While there, she advanced her cooking skills. Seriously, her daal was the best we’ve ever tasted.

This feast was cooked on a wood-fired clay stove and hot plate.

Sri Lanka is famous for growing tea. The plantations are stunning.

Seedling nursery, surrounded by mature plantations.

Lipton Seat, where the first plantation owner supposedly looked out at his empire. Mama dog had the best seat.

The first tea plants were smuggled in from China in the 1820s for personal consumption. The business of growing and exporting tea was created by the British in the 1860s, to supply affordable tea to the London tea-drinkers. 100,000 Tamil workers were brought in from India to keep up with the quick expansion. They worked hard and were paid little. A familiar scenario. Housing rights, land rights, education and medical care are all lacking for those locked into plantation life. Read about the true cost of your cup of tea. Unions are forming and rights are being considered with every new political turnover, but progress is slow. Traveling in this colonized country with its own modern-day slavery amplifies the need for abolishing systemic slavery on a global scale.

We walked through endless plantations going from town to town, including a few kilometers with this entertaining group on their way home from school. They taught us Tamil and Singhalese words that we shouldn’t repeat in public. Suddenly, an enormous 6′ long snake crossed our path. We ALL reacted identically. Snakes are one of the hazards of plantation work.

This is where we parted ways. See them just above the tea plants? Their houses were recently re-sided with new sheet metal. Can you imagine the daytime temperatures inside these homes?

The importance of religion was nationally apparent and ever-present. Shrines, Buddhist stupas and dagobas, Hindu temples and Islamic mosques were abundant. Catholic and Methodist churches too. Presently, there are violent clashes in Kandy and Colombo between the majority Buddhist Sinhalese and the minority Muslims. Hopefully these violent actions will subside. This violence does not align with my understanding of Buddhism. We did not see conflict during our visit. We visited numerous temples and stupas in large and small towns, and spent time speaking with people from all these religions, who live side by side in small communities. People want to have religious freedom, equitable work and a place to nurture and educate their families. Universal concepts.

Decorated 800 year old Hindu lingam representing Shiva, located in a small shrine in Polunnawura.

The oldest and only Buddhist stupa with original plaster (under the white paint) from 1180s. Kiri Vehera, located in Polunnawura.

Shiva atop the Koneswaram temple in Trincomalee.

Hindu temple top in a small village outside Haputale.

Where there are mountains, there are waterfalls. Sometimes used as bathtubs, with soap. This is outside Haputale.

This sounds cliché, but we were constantly reminded how privileged we are to travel. I like ditching first world comforts. How would I know if I liked squatters or thrones better unless I spent time comparing? The appreciation is powerful when we turn on a water faucet and hot water flows. We all have different comfort levels. And Sri Lanka has it all. The least we can do is travel responsibly, choose fair-trade, locally owned, farmed and grown products. Follow the money.

Elephants roam along the water’s edge, making surprise appearances.

Parakrama Samudra, a 30 square mile reservoir built by King Parakramabahu in the mid 1100s.

The word serendib has special meaning in Sri Lanka. Serendipity. It refers to happy accidents. We were humbled by the graciousness of strangers. We met people with inspiring stories of strength. Along the way, our understanding of the country’s hardship was heightened. Go there. You won’t regret it.

And then come to Hanoi to see us.

Day Trippin’

November 8, 2017 by Beth 2 Comments

We like to explore Hanoi and the surrounding villages, especially now that we have 2 motorbikes. Yes, Doug bought a used bike and I rent one. A quick jaunt around town and the breeze can lower your temperature faster than you can say whenthehellwillmypersonalthermostatworkagainmaybeweshouldmovetoiceland.

It’s hot. Hote. Heh.

Recently we signed up for a guided ride as a fundraiser for a local organization that helps foster young girls, called Blossom House, part of Humanitarian Services For Children in Vietnam. It’s a good cause, and we would be escorted to places we might not find on our own. We took off with 20 others, and within 10 minutes, Doug and I were on our own, separated from the group. It’s funny; months before we moved to Vietnam I had a recurring dream. It stemmed from reading about the traffic here, that you enter the stream of motorbikes and swim along like a school of fish; these dreams always devolved to being trapped in the flow, getting parted from each other and not being able to stop or find each other for years (YEARS) because we were unable to exit the flow.

Can you say déjà vu?

We were headed down the highway in a giant glob of motorbikes and cars, aiming for the Nhật Tân Bridge, fondly called the New Bridge because it was finished 2 years ago and links Hanoi to the airport. We’ve never driven motorbikes onto this bridge before.

Turns out the onramp from the road we were on is a left turn, not a right turn. I got stuck in the right side of the mob and couldn’t maneuver over to the left. Swimming. There was a left-turn light for the onramp to the bridge (yay!) but alas, no way to get to it from the right side without cutting across 3 packed lanes of swift-moving traffic which never had to stop because that part of the road continues straight through. I finally did it (oh boy you should’ve heard the horns honking at me) and there was Doug waiting on the bridge for me. Swoon.

The Nhật Tân Bridge feels enormous.

This bridge is 2.5 miles long. After a thrilling, noisy ride across, we realized we had no idea where to turn, and no one was in sight from the group.

Luckily, we had a general idea of where we would rendezvous for lunch, so we spent the morning exploring the villages and their temples along the one-lane rural road. The road is similar to Seattle’s Burke Gilman bike trail except with cows, water buffalo, chickens and goats meandering along the way.

A few hours later, we found the Lại Đà Temple and waited for the group to appear. An enormous wedding surrounded it so the wait was fun. It’s impolite here to take people-photos without their permission, so you’ll have to believe us when we say it was loud, lively and beautifully colorful.

The Lại Đà Temple is in the center of the village.

Carved dragons adorn each corner. The corners are up-turned to deflect evil spirits.

The back door to one of the buildings in the Pagoda complex.

The group finally arrived and we all enjoyed this delicious vegetarian lunch at the temple, prepared by the buddhist nuns and monks. Tempura seaweed-wrapped mushrooms, tofu spring rolls (fried and fresh), young bamboo shoot soup, noodle salads, mung bean rice, and lots more. My favorite condiment was a thinly sliced root, fried and spiced, that looked like beef jerky, to sprinkle on everything.

Our lunch sampler.

Afterwards we all cleaned up and went our separate ways. Our goal of getting out and exploring was a success.

We passed this mural project, about a mile from our house, on the railway wall. This wall surrounds portions of the Old Quarter. The artist is holding a paper drawing as her painting guide.

Mural painting on the elevated train track wall.

Coffee shop sunset, with a fishing pole attached to the railing.

A simple dinner of fried rice, caramelized pork and garlic sautéed water spinach at neighboring Mậu Dịch.

back to bún chả and bum guns

October 31, 2017 by Beth 2 Comments

We have happily returned to the chaotic energy, noise and beauty of Hanoi. Adventures are piling up and we will be sharing more soon. Until then, here are a few shots of our recent 3-day excursion south to Ninh Bình. We took the Reunification Express, of course.

We rented motorbikes and found a place to stay tucked in between limestone cliffs and forest. This area was 5 days post-flood. Sandbag dikes were still in place, water was receding but fields were still flooded. The rice had already been harvested, but the sweet potatoes and other tubers were ruined.

We visited pagodas and interesting sights, got off the beaten track, practiced our Vietnamese and relaxed.

Good place to learn how to ride a semi-automatic.

The countryside was breath-taking.

Rorschachs everywhere.

Hundreds of monk statues in the Bai Dinh Pagoda, the largest temple complex in the country.

We found Black Power monk.

Strolled through Thung Nham Bird Park, home to 1000s of herons, egrets and storks.

Many caves in this land of limestone. But only 3 choices?

Binh Dong cave temples. Lust-worthy floor tile.

We had one of these 12 cabins. Hot outside shower, soft beds and electricity. And lizards. And echoing morning rooster crows.

The view from our cabin. Yes, two hammocks.

Watching the light change was magical.

Atop the stairs at the Bai Dinh Pagoda complex.

Oh. Why bún chả and bum guns? We missed them SO MUCH this summer. Come on out and you’ll see why.

A video clip of ducks on a road.

Vietlandia