Baywatch

The legend goes like this: Thousands of years ago the Chinese were preparing to invade Vietnam via the seas. Hopelessly outnumbered, the home team prayed for a miracle and received one in the form of a dragon who proceeded to slap the waters along the coast. With each smack the dragon deposited large amounts of emerald and jade and before long the coastline was clogged with thousands of oddly-shaped landmasses. Confused and lost among this maze of minerals, the Chinese turned tail and fled.

The geology goes like this: The coastal area northeast of Hanoi, Vietnam, is incredibly rich in limestone and tens of thousands of years of erosion have left the locale, now called Halong Bay (Bay of the Descending Dragon) with a beautiful assortment of karsts, or limestone landmasses. It became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994 and is now, obviously, a popular destination for tourists willing to spend a night or two out on the water.

Our boat looked like this:

The tourist boats out on Halong Bay--and there's dozens of them--are wooden crafts modeled after the Chinese junks that have sailed these waters for centuries. Ours had some slight modifications (a sweet bar, air conditioned cabins) but its wooden hull kept it in the spirit of things. And by spirit I mean dampness. Good lord, I'm not sure that anyone who actually had to live on one of those things would ever be completely dry. After an afternoon of kayaking we had a whole set of wet clothes that I'm quite sure were more damp after hanging outside for the night.

Unfortunately, the kayaking was a really wet affair, so bringing along our camera to catch what turned out to be some really incredible scenes was a no-go. Aside from paddling through caves and in the shadows of tourism poster-worthy limestone cliffs, we saw monkeys. That's right, monkeys. On one of the small islands there lives a whole colony of monkeys and when we entered the interior of the island via a small water cave, there was a whole bunch of them sitting on the beach. We paddled up quietly and beached ourselves just thirty or so feet away. We watched them and they watched us. The only difference was that the monkeys looked really bored, whereas we were all grinning like idiots.

On Halong Bay

Halong Bay in the morning fog

After returning to port we hopped into a minibus with our fellow travelers and took a 3+ hour drive to Hanoi, rested for thirty minutes, and then boarded the overnight sleeper bus for Hue. What's a sleeper bus, you ask? Well, it's a bus of beds. The beds are too short for anyone over 5'10", but the real kicker is the way people drive in Vietnam. Slam on the break, stomp on the gas, swerve wildly, never let up on the horn--that about covers it. Ever been in an airplane lavatory when the craft hits some turbulence? Multiply that tenfold and you're beginning to understand the fun of moving around on a "sleeper" bus. They don't put seat belts in the beds for nothing.

Jillian prepares for a really lovely sleep

Draught'd

If I hadn't paid the tab, I wouldn't have believed it. Six draft beers. One dollar. Welcome to Vietnam.

Yesterday we landed in Hanoi, the capital city and old French colonial administrative center. The city is known for a few things that can be seen--architecture, Ho Chi Minh's burial grounds, the old "Hanoi Hilton" prison--but last night we zeroed in on that which can be tasted. Hanoi has a famously prodigious and cheap draft beer culture. So last night we went to its epicenter, an intersection of four identical "bars". In reality they're just shop fronts where locals and tourists alike take a seat in child-sized plastic chairs and get served from a curbside keg. The beer is cold and light. And it's 15 cents per glass.

After a less-than-restful sleep (we're staying at a rather rowdy hostel), Jillian and I took on Hanoi in the daylight. It's an extremely walkable city, so long as your head is on a swivel. Mopeds swarm the streets here like mosquitoes and traffic laws must be gathering dust in a basement somewhere. Our first stop just had to be Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum. The revered leader ("Uncle Ho") of this still-socialist nation died in 1969 and, despite his wishes to be cremated, today lies out in the open in spooky silence inside a giant concrete structure. It was creepy how well-preserved the body is; Jillian remarked it reminded her of Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean. She feared he might sit up and start singing at any moment.

At Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum

Former governor's residence for French colony of Indochina

Near Ho's final resting place is the Temple of Literature, an ancient (1076) Confucianist center of learning and just a bit past that is the Hoa Lo prison, typically known in the American lexicon as the "Hanoi Hilton." It was built by the French colonialists in the late nineteenth century as a prison to hold Vietnamese insurgents from the budding revolutionary movement. In typical colonial fashion, punishments at the prison were arbitrary and cruel and, as a result, today the prison stands as a monument to Vietnamese perseverance in the face of French control.

There is little there about the American pilots (such as John McCain) who were held after being shot down during the war, but the few exhibits dedicated to this phase of the prison's history are rife with lies and hypocrisy. The basic story authorities here are pushing: look how cruel the French were to us and look how well we treated the Americans. It's been well-documented how Vietnamese captors routinely violated the Geneva Convention by torturing American prisoners, denying them food, and forcing them to live in unsanitary conditions. Okay, fine, they want to whitewash history a bit, but it unfortunately cheapens the hardships endured by Vietnamese prisoners during the colonial era. When it comes to Hoa Lo prison, Vietnamese authorities can't have it both ways.

Also this: in Vietnam, Facebook is blocked by the government. Internet providers are required to keep users from entering. There are some ways around this, but they are quite a hassle. This highlights the needle Vietnam and China (which also blocks Facebook) are trying to thread in simultaneously pushing a free-market economy and limiting personal freedoms [see also: China vs. Google].

Whew. Who needs a beer? I know a spot where the draft beer is quite cheap...

As always, check out more pictures by clicking on "Our Photos" on the right sidebar.

About to enter the Temple of Literature

Entrance to the Hoa Lo prison

Island Fever

Just over a week into the trip and our first case of stomach bacteria. I came down suddenly with a variety of symptoms which, according to the texts we brought along, could mean I have a stomach bug, H1N1, syphilis, the early stages of elephantitis, or (gulp) malaria. Stomach problems are common in the tropics, Thailand is an essentially malaria-free country and we're taking our pills...but what's well-reasoned logic in the face of groupthink? Before long we were fairly convinced that I must have malaria, Matt was wondering if it's contagious, and we piled into a taxi headed for the international clinic. The doctor there patted me on the head and gave me some pills. Nothing unusual, son. But Jillian is nonetheless already referring to the whole episode as my "near-brush" with malaria.

But enough of that. Koh Chang, what a beautiful island. Located in Thailand's bottom right near Cambodia, it's the country's second-largest island. One side of Koh Chang is a series of lovely white beaches and moderately developed "neighborhoods" of hotels, hostels, bungalows, and absolute dumps. We spent our first few nights at a secluded spot called Cliff Cottages. On the upside, it was really affordable (like so much of Thailand) and it has one of the most incredible patios I've ever seen facing sunset where drinks and dinner can be ordered. On the other hand, the bungalows appear to have been built by a Cub Scouts troop and the bed was literally a piece of styrofoam on wood.

At Cliff Cottages

Along with relaxing on the beach, partaking in multiple massages (Matt), and crashing a moped into some bushes (me), we took a full-day, four-island snorkeling trip. In addition to the snorkeling there were stops at way secluded beaches on undeveloped islands. The water around Koh Chang is amazingly warm and clear. Combine this with the intensity of the sun here and a day floating around with the local fishes is just what the doctor ordered.

Actually, the doctor ordered antibiotics, but that's a different story.

The Kearney boys check out the view underwater

At one of the stopovers during the snorkeling trip

On the beach in Koh Chang

Bananas in the Trunk, Soup

Here's Jillian right after boarding our elephant:

It was a two-seater and as the elephant lumbered along we pretty much had to hang on with both hands. Occasionally the animal would stop, usually to extend her trunk back in hopes of getting a banana from the bunch on our laps. We would place the banana right on her snout and she'd curl around it (peel and all), pull it into her mouth, and come right back for more.

We were on the outskirts of the jungle at one of the many elephant camps near the city of Chiang Mai. Our biggest fear was that we'd witness cruelty towards the elephants, but there was nothing like that. Each animal had a caretaker who sat on the elephant's head as we went along, steering and singing to it. We spent an hour on the elephant, basically hanging out with it during its mid-morning exercise and feeding.

Matt Kearney as Hannibal

This was the beginning of a busy day that also saw us hike to a waterfall for lunch and spend the afternoon whitewater rafting. The rafting, in particular, was just awesome. By Matt's estimation (he has some experience in this stuff), the river barely reached class 3, but there were enough rapids to keep us on our toes. And since there were so many other rafts on the river, whenever we found ourselves in the calm, a waterfight would inevitably break out with another raft. This was usually instigated by the guides.

The old city of Chiang Mai, surrounded on all sides by a moat, was a great stop after super-busy Bangkok. Chiang Mai is a laid-back kind of place full of interesting restaurants and markets. Oh, the things we could buy were we not at the front end of our trip. We did, though, indulge ourselves in a foot massage. Along with traditional Thai massage ("something a bit like torture," as Jillian described it), foot massages are offered pretty much everywhere, sort of like slot machines in Nevada. You came to buy snacks? Why not a foot rub, too?

Outside Wat Chedi Luang in Chiang Mai

We wrapped up our stay in the city with something recommended by seemingly everyone who's ever even heard of Chiang Mai: a cooking class. At the Siam Rice Thai Cookery we joined six other young travelers for a day of learn, cook, eat, repeat. The staff was really friendly and fun and as group we prepared around 18 different dishes. Stir fries, curries, spring rolls. Things got off to an inauspicious start when, standing over an incredibly hot wok, I tried to quickly add an egg to my Spicy Big Noodle before the whole dish burned through. Instead, the yoke exploded backwards in my hands like some civil war musket and landed on me.

Best dish of the day: Jillian's warm mix of bananas and coconut cream in a sort of delectable dessert soup. You know it's good when after a full day of cooking and eating, we still found room to finish the whole bowl.

As always, more pictures can be found by clicking on "Our Photos" on the right sidebar.

Cooking, Thai-style

A Longboat and a Long Train Ride

During the 19th century, according to our already well-thumbed Lonely Planet, Bangkok could be heard called the "Venice of Asia." The multitude of smells wafting down the alley past our hostel aside, it was actually due to the city's rather extensive network of canals. While no longer a central route of movement, these canals still offer visitors a chance to travel the back neighborhoods of Bangkok in a less than typical manner.

"You! You! Sit middle of boat!"
This was the driver of the longboat we had just climbed into telling Matt that, for safety's sake, his butt really needed to be dead center. Jillian and I sat on the bench behind him, our centers of gravity forming an equilateral triangle of stability. Picture a 50-foot long canoe with an outboard motor. The driver sat perched in the back, steering us through the canals and narrowly past other longboats. All calls were close.

Passing into the canals from the main river

Inside the canals it was rather sleepy, with people going about their lives, albeit in plain view of us passers-by. The atmosphere was both urban and tropical; lived-in and wild with overgrowth. Some young monks standing on a protruding dock sold us a loaf of bread and told us to drop it over the side of the boat. We did. (Three second pause.) A 5x5 foot area was suddenly full of flopping, splashing catfish, emerging from the murky bottom to fight it out for human food.

And I never thought I'd hear this combination of words: "You want to buy a beer for the driver?" This from a woman who had paddled her little floating convenience store out to us later in the trip. Her trinkets were cheap, but her cooler of beer was appealing. After handing over three Changs, she asked about refreshing our guide. Well, we were going to tip him anyway...

Inside the canals

A fish feeding frenzy

Our driver, pre-beer

Then we headed north to Chiang Mai, a city renowned for its proximity to outdoor adventures. Despite being only a 300 mile trip from Bangkok, the train ride was scheduled to last a cool 14 hours. In reality it lasted 16 hours, which, for those of you keeping score at home, works out to a grueling pace of 18 mph. So we ordered a bucket of beer and passed the time watching the Thai countryside until dark, when we climbed into our tiny, pull down beds.

Aloha Mr. Hair

The Pacific Ocean is huge. It took us just under 16 hours to cross it in a plane, though I did have a TV screen embedded in the seat in front of me. This, I suppose, made my trip across the world's largest ocean easier than, say, Magellan's. But we compare ourselves to our contemporaries, so I felt some bratty jealousy when I walked through first class during deboarding. If economy class is comprised of vaguely reclining seats and business class contains lounge chairs, then first class passengers are situated in what can only be called cubicles. They have two seats! And there's an entire executive's desk where the tray table should be complete with a paperweight that reads "Person of the Year."

My brother, Matt, flew a different airline than Jillian and I, so we agreed to meet "somewhere" in the Bangkok airport. We also staged a small competition over who would enjoy the best movie viewing experience during the flight. I won going away, mostly because I was able to view two episodes of the original Star Trek.

After 24 hours of travel and the international dateline to really screw things up, we arrived to our hostel about as biologically confused as you can get: our bodies had no idea what time it was. Did I want a beer or an orange juice? Was I even hungry? And what's my name again? So we set out from the hostel, determined to power through until at least sunset.

The streets of Bangkok are swarming with tuk-tuks, a vehicle slightly more evolved than a riding lawn mower. It seats three and the drivers don't have the most sterling reputation for honesty in dealings with Westerners. In our hostel alone there were a dozen posted warnings about tuk-tuk scams, mostly involving driving unwitting passengers to ripoff jade markets instead of their preferred destination. As we strolled around the neighborhood near our hostel--a mix of historic sights, cheap food stalls, and transvestite prostitutes--a group of tuk-tuk drivers called out to us. Want a ride? No. Very cheap! I'm sure. Then one of them rubbed his hand across his chin, miming my beard, and called out, "Mr. Hair! Mr. Hair! Come on, Mr. Hair!" I guess he just didn't know the word and soon the entire row of drivers was at it, a chorus calling out for this Mr. Hair.

A tuk-tuk

Outside the National Museum

On Friday Matt and I wore matching purple medical scrubs. Not on purpose and not all day: when we visited the Royal Palace we discovered that pants are required. While Jillian was lent a cute red skirt that she briefly considered keeping in lieu of her $4 deposit, the brothers Kearney got to stroll the grounds in loud reminders to everyone that we didn't read the guidebook too closely.

The palace grounds, which also include one of the country's most precious temples, Wat Phra Kaew, was insanely beautiful and ornate. I say insane because I felt a mild madness overtaking me as I tried to prioritize my picture-taking. Literally every building on the grounds deserves to be photographed from all sides and many of the structures are very close together--I felt like a mouse walking though a maze where the walls are made of cheese.

Wat Phra Kaew

Preparing to enter and see the famous Emerald Buddha

One of the many golden Buddhas on the palace grounds

The palace, built in 1782, is a national treasure in Thailand, where reverance for the king is total. His oversized portraits line the city boulevards, his name graces so many parks and buildings, and there's a law against insulting him. I know what you're thinking, but Thailand is neither a dictatorship nor a personality cult. It's a functioning democracy and King Adulyadej is beloved like a father. His role, much like the palace, is mostly ceremonial.

After taking in the palace and a few more gorgeous temples, including Wat Pho which houses the largest Reclining Buddha in Thailand (coming in at 46 meters by 15 meters), in the heat and humidity of the day, we retired back to our hostel and some well-deserved Thai food dishes. Lots of rice, lots of noodles, and tons of spice.

As always, more pictures can be found by clicking on "Our Photos" on the right sidebar.

Time To Go

It's official: we're skipping Jillian's birthday this year. Oh, we'll celebrate her big 3-0 for sure, but thanks to some international dateline sleight-of-hand, there will be no January 13 for the Kearneys this year. Our flight to Bangkok leaves from Los Angeles just before midnight on January 12 and lands around noon on the 14th. I guess this means Jillian gets to be 29 for another year. And if she never turns 30, can she ever turn 31?

From Thailand we'll take a short flight up to Vietnam, a bus along the coast and on to Cambodia and back to Thailand, then flying to India and traveling overland to Nepal before coming home in early April. We hope to regularly update this blog with accounts and pictures of our adventures. Enjoy!

The itinerary: