I rode a camel again. I can’t say the second time was any better than the first time, but I did get to experience a sand storm, something I was actually curious about. In all the movies it looks like a giant orange cloud descending upon you like a tsunami, but in reality, as I was looking at the rain curtain about a mile away, the dust storm snuck up from behind and pushed tiny particles of rocks in all my crevices. Our guide, Khalid, said it was best to hide behind the camel, but I found my feet being buried in the torrentially downpour of sand and thus, not better. As we stood, holding steadfast, it became kind of fun- withstanding the vicious wind and try to breathe through the shawls we wrapped around our heads. Only later did I come to realize that this amazing memory would cost me my camera. Sand 1:Camera 0. :( 

Hiking the Todra Gorge was beautiful, but hot, hot, hot. Klahid said “hike in the morning and uphill will be in the shade”. I think he meant if we left at 6am, not 8:30am. We chose not to have a guide because, who hires a guide to hike a mountain that everyone says is clearly marked? So um, Yea....clearly marked is if you’re a nomad or a donkey that knows your way home. We started on a trail that lead through the river bed and somehow missed the off trail, so continued in the dry river all the while thinking “aren’t we suppose to be hiking 2 hours uphill?” Eventually we realized we’d lost the trail and chose the path of a billy goat to head up until we met the “path” again. Luckily the Canadians had GPS and a semi topographical map that helped us not get completely lost, but man, I’m out of shape and had to stop every 100 meters or so to rest before reaching a top point. Then it was across a small plateau and past the nomad village (a tent where the baby adorable goats were sleeping under and some small children asking for money) to the downward trail of “where’s the carian? There it is!” and back to our large, 70 room hotel on a cliffside that catered to only our group of 6. 

The Gorge from the view point (top)

Robby and the Canadians hiking back from the extra view point peak

Went to Ouzar-wood, the Hollywood of Morocco. Atlas Studios in Ouzararate (War-Zar-Zat) is the largest film studio in Africa. Numerous films of all nationalities come here because of tax breaks, but also because Morocco has mountains, water, and various sceneries that can look like a million places. The studio tour was awesome, not only cause I love films, but because you get to wander the sets of numerous productions and see how they look in real life. Our guide was a student who instructed us to do certain things on the Cleopatra set and in an Egyptian Temple and then used his phone for music while he filmed us with my phone. He’s not a film student, but I would totally hire him as a Production assistant - he has a cinematographer’s eye and the aptitude to be a great director. I wish I could work on something filming here- just beautiful with kind people - the town wanting to be willing extras and lovely sets. 

Stayed on a Homestay after walking an hour uphill from Imlil, the tourist town known for the starting point of psychos who like to hike 8 hours uphill to high points on mountains (Toubkal Peak). After a lovely evening with a home cooked tagine and view of the mountain, we woke up to hike the 4 mile up and downhill trail to a religious shrine that Moroccan’s come to ask for help obtaining babies, husbands, good luck, etc. Since I wasn’t having the uphill, Mary and I hired donkeys to ascend the rocky, stepped path for the first 1.5 hours. I felt slightly regale on my donkey steed as I ascended 100 meters elevation, but my knees and lungs were forever grateful and it was an interesting experience riding a donkey on sharp switchbacks while your friends are huffing and puffing behind you and your donkey guide (who was ancient and bow-legged) is “la la la” beside you since this is easy-peasey to him. 

Them hiking behind me on the Donkey

Mary and I on our donkeys with our guides

The town we stayed in.

The Shrine at the middle of the hill (2 miles uphill)

Visited Essaouira, the city on the Atlantic Ocean- the only city that made me put on a light hoodie. It’s of Portugal influence, so white stone buildings and clean alleyways. We actually stayed inside the Medina and loved it, maybe too much. Ended up never venturing to the beach front and seeing the water up close because we became “girls” and sadly, shopped. But Robby and I found beautiful Berber style rugs that are made from sheep’s wool and some plant, plus Robby picked up an interestingly nice coat that is handmade of various fabrics and looks slightly like a couch gone wrong, but for all the right reasons. I think it’s amazing, Robby is still on fence if she made a good purchase. We’ll see when she dazzles everyone in America. We also visited a crepe shop that has a line because it’s so popular. His neighbors hate him (are jealous) and the locals love him. For $4 we got an extra large homemade turkey, Spanish, cheese, and hot sauce delight. Worth waiting 40 minutes for. We walked to the Scala (what the Kasbah- or outer safety wall of the city- is called in a port town) and watched the sunset while munching on yumminess. 

Also ended up ordering fresh caught fish and octopus from the fisherman at the docks and then brought it back to the market place to be cooked in a communial over where local cook knows how to prepare any type of food with amazing spices. One of the highlights of the trip. So yummy and very reasonably priced- like $10 for fresh seafood and $3 to cook it. I would definitely be here a lot if I lived in this town. 

Souk of Essaouira 

The Scala

Sunset

My rug (got it washed, so prettier)

Mary feasting on fresh oysters 

Now drinking Moroccan wine and writing my blog from a terrace overlooking a pool next to a lovely hotel restaurant. More later lovely people reading my blog. :)  

Medinas and Berber towns

I haven’t written in a while and that’s because I’ve been busy seeing the country or too exhausted to write - taking naps during most of the downtime. There’s a lot of driving involved on this trip, and for some reason I find myself nodding off once I get inside the van. It could be because it’s been 85-106F most days or the fact that car rides rock a person to sleep. But Khalid, our tour guide, has the trips planned well and we stop periodically for a city or market tour, coffee break, or just a photo stop, so the time goes by quickly. 

 Fez from a viewing point

We had a local tour guide in Meknes and in Fez to tour the Medinas. It was Friday, the holy rest day, when we walked through the mostly empty Meknes streets. The city is being renovated, so a bunch of the walls have been painted and new, ornate wooden doors added to homes. We first walked through what was once an old Palace, but has since been turned into local homes and shops. If I lived in the Medina, I would for sure move to this neighborhood. Everything was clean, including the white stone walkways. 

Meknes - a street in the Palace part of the Medina

The Medina in Fez was very busy with a souk in the middle selling everything you could think of- Jewelry, clothing, food, shoes, etc. We visited a leather tannery and learned how leather bags and jackets are made. The tannery was outside and when we entered the shop, I was confused about the sprig of mint handed to me, but once near the tanning pools, I figured out real fast it was to breathe in as you watched men dunk the leather into colored vats of pigeon poop to soften the hides and dye them. Smelled awful, but the products were very pretty and mailable.

Old University open space

The souk in the Fez Medina

Men dying wool in the Fez Medina

Leather Tannery

The Canadians and Mary tried Camel burgers in Meknes, while the local BBQ man- everyone in town brings him their meat and he will cook it for you in certain spices- made Robby and I turkey burgers. They tasted ok, but it was a dry rub and no mayo or wet sauces. The others said their camel taste like a dense meat. In Fez, we were shepherded to a touristy restaurant, but after sitting down and realizing we were 1) not very hungry, and 2) did want to pay the tourist food prices, we as a group, left the restaurant with the waiters perplexed. 

We told our guide we were going to find a small snack shop and get a sharwma, which he semi didn’t mind (pretty sure he gets commission if we ate at the fancy place). But as we walked the narrow alleys we didn’t see any food places. A local directed us to a closed shop, another tried to take us back to the restaurant, and a random Intrepid tour guide wanted to call Khalid because he didn’t understand why we were out and about unchaperoned. It was slightly sad, but kind of funny how everyone thought we were hapless when we just wanted a little independence and cheap food. Apparently most people on the Intrepid tour just go were they are lead, but our group prefers to wander and actually immerse ourselves into the culture.

I found a fruit shop and convinced everyone to get fruit smoothies- fresh squeezed oranges, pineapple, and peaches. The shop owner found us a table and chairs and we enjoyed people watching and talking to an unofficial guide who eventually figured out we were already on a tour and he wouldn’t get a commission from us. Khalid and our guide found us eventually and after being refreshed by the fruit sugar and cool drink, we continued on our way to see a rug shop and a old university. 

On our way to the Sahara desert, we stopped for the night at an interesting hotel resort place with a pool, restaurant, and castle looking building that housed our rooms. We thought about the pool, but a lot of kids were splashing about, so Robby and I followed a spray-painted sign saying “Parc” through a heavy green gate and out into the desert. In front of us was a wide open sandy plateau with southwest looking zigarat mountains. We passed by a huge turkey herding some chickens and a rooster across the path, and almost stepped on a turtle crossing the road. Two back jokes since in real life. 

We came to a junction that said “Lake” and River”, choose the river route, but never found the river. We did pass a garden and notice we were in a sort of dry brush park with views of plains and the lake was to the left of us. Since a storm was approaching, the weather cooled, and it was an enjoyable pre-walk, as Khalid took us into the mountains and lead us on an 1 1/2 hour tour of a local Berber village. Berber’s are the semi nomadic Moroccan people. Some of the earliest settlers, who have since been colonized and live in villages and half converted to Islam. 

In Midelt, a modern town of 55,000 citizens, many of the people live in the hills and hidden valleys of the surrounding areas and have farms and orchards. We started our hike on a random road that lead through an apple and fig orchard, into the village made of adobe (clay and hay) houses, up a small hill to the edge of a cliff looking down at a very baby Grand Canyon, and then up over the slate rock hill to the van waiting up the road. It looked like we popped out in the middle of nowhere, so I bet there are more hidden villages all over the place. 

Orchard in Berber village

Man walking home

Where we started our Berber town walk and the vast openness of the area

Adobe houses in Berber Village

Robby and I standing next to the baby Grand Canyon

Donkey

Village and surrounding mountains

Once back at the strange resort-like hotel, we had a lovely dinner as a thunderstorm rolled in and then headed to bed.

Back to Casablanca....then Rabat.

 Casablanca is not like the movie. The alluring elegance that might have been here in the 30’s and 40’s, is now a thriving metropolis of ever growing dirt-stained buildings, crazy drivers who don’t follow any logic, hagglers, and no spark (at least to me). Basically a large city with the highlights being a beautifully maintained flower garden outside the Sacred Heart Cathedral (the inside is closed for renovations), a 25,000 person mosque that allows foreigners to enter, and a few different Medinas and souks that could smell better.

Street in Casablanca

Hassan II Mosque

Upper floor of the Mosque

Washroom in the Mosque

Mary, Robby, and I outside the Mosque

 Most of the Moroccans that live in other parts of the country come to Casablanca in hopes of better job opportunities, but other than that, there isn’t much of a drawl. The evening our Chefchaouen bus arrived back in town, we met up with Mary, our lovely Australian friend we’d met in the Balkans 4 years ago and invited along on this Moroccan adventure. We shared a cab ride to the famous Rick’s Cafe - yes the Rick’s from Casablanca, but it’s only been around since 2004 and was opened by an American expat that loved the movie and saw an opportunity to make a buck.

Classy white table cloths with linen napkins atop, adorned small tables lit by Turkish lamps spaced across the marble floor with a an internal courtyard separating the 2 levels. We sat next to the bar, but 10 feet from the musicians (who started playing later in the evening). With a glass of Moroccan wine and a plate of duck confit, I was a happy camper. This meal almost beat out Chefchaouen’s tajin. 

The following day we visited all the touristic sites and walked the 5 miles from the Medina back to our hotel before meeting up with the other people from Intrepid. Usually these tours cap at 15 people, but because tourism has only been allowed back in Morocco since February, only a father and son joined the three of us. The good thing is - we all fit in a large taxi, we won’t have to wait for a ton of people in the morning to leave for an activity, and it’s kind of a cozier tour of the country. The bad, or sad, part is that we don’t get to meet more people and share stories of each other’s countries, we feel we will always have to stick together (which could become exhausting), and sometimes it’s just more fun with larger groups to travel around places. 

So far everyone is nice. We took an hour train ride to Rabat- the city of parliament and the current Capital, which was ten times cleaner than Casablanca and had Art Deco buildings spread among the government offices. Morocco is a monarchy- run by a King, but there are also elected officials who have input on certain laws, but ultimately, the King has the last word. The current King’s family has been ruling Morocco since the 17th century. 

From the train station, our tour guide, Khalid, lead us to the start of Kasbah des Oudayas- a small old city inside castle walls that had a lookout point to see the Atlantic Ocean and the Buregreg River below. Lots of families were out swimming and enjoying the beaches at the water’s edge.

Viewing point

On the walk to Hassan Tower - what was supposed to be the first “Hassan Mosque”, but was never completed due to the death of the 12th century king that commissioned it and is now just a minaret next to a grand Mausoleum that isn’t open to the public, but has guards on horses you can take pictures of, we all meandered through the local souk. Robby and I made Mary, Brian, and Nathan try some pressed sugar cane juice, which was immediately refreshing since the weather was reaching 90 degrees. 

Hassan Tower

We walked a total of 4+ miles doing the circuit around the notable sites of Rabat before taking a 2 hour train to Meknes- The 4th largest city in Morocco, known for its imperial past, including the remains of Bab Mansour, a huge gate with arches and mosaic tiling. The gate leads into the former imperial city.

Before taking taxi’s to the old Medina, we dropped our luggage off at one of the nicest hotels we’ve been in - clean, working elevator and AC, a roof top bar (that actually serves alcohol), and is modern. The downside- there is supposedly a night club and it’s said to get very loud. I guess I’ll see after a nights rest. 

Since tomorrow is Friday, the Moroccan day of rest (and most things will be closed), Khalid invited us to view the The Mausoleum of Sultan Moulay Ismail, the King who made the city his capital in the 17th century and fortified the city with tons of walls since he was a violent man and feared his enemies would get to him. He even hired a private army from the Sahara because he was worried soldiers from the local tribes would eventually try to overthrow him. The mausoleum was four rooms lined in yellow, green, and black mosaic titles with ornately carved wooden doors and lamps along the sides. Four tombs resided in the last room, holding King Ismail, his wife, grandson, and one other person. 

After paying our respects, we had dinner with a local family inside the Medina. The wife cooked chicken couscous for us with a variety of hot side “salads”- seasoned potatoes, roasted carrots, baba ganoush, and a tomato and pepper dish. Couscous is typically a meal served on Fridays- Morocco’s day of rest, because it’s a big portion of food that can be shared by the whole family and the neighbors. It’s served with veggies on top (must have a squash or pumpkin included), then the meat, with the couscous on the bottom. 

Once we were stuffed, the family bought out fresh apricots and nectarines, followed by Moroccan mint tea and homemade meringues. Too bad we weren’t walking back to the hotel because we could have rolled. As if my stomach wasn’t full enough, Robby and I headed to the rooftop of the hotel to watch the sunset and enjoy a glass of Moroccan wine. The waiter then brought out free olives and cheese cubes, of which I didn’t want to be rude, so I indulged. 

Blues and ocean waves

Day 2 and 3

I’m a sweaty mess. The sad thing is, it’s not even that hot out; maybe high 70’s. But I guess it’s desert heat and the sun is reflecting off hot walls and sand. Day 2 in Tangier’s went well- our hostel found 2 sisters to share a private cab with us and take us around to all the tourist sites. Robby and I were originally going to take the hop on/hop off bus, but we couldn’t find the stop or the time that it ran, so for $2 more, a private taxi sounded like a fantastic deal.

View from the top of Cap Spartel

Going on up- stairwell in the lighthouse.

First stop was Cap Spartel- an old lighthouse that looked out at the Atlantic Ocean and to Spain across the way. We drove up and over a mountain, past Beverly Hills type mansions that our driver kept calling “Hollywood” due to the wealth of the neighborhood, and down along the coast past a large park to get there. The view of blue-green water alongside a rocky cliff face was worth the $5 admission fee. 

We did a quick stop at the viewing point for where the Mediterranean Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean before ending our tour at the Hercules Caves- supposedly a network of sea caves with a Instagram worthy cliff arch opening to the Ocean. Unfortunately it was a Sunday, so all the tourist and locals were trying to cram themselves into the cave and random jerks were charging “fees” to enter the free caves. We had ice cream and people watched instead of going in. I guess I’ll be like most other people and just google imagines of the caves than see them in person.

Our taxi driver dropped us back at the Medina and we parted ways with our new friends so we could sit by the water and enjoy the sea breeze. In the morning we all boarded the bus to Chefchaouen - the Blue City. Once there; I knew that the Medina was on part of a hill, but I was not prepared for the mile walk straight up a mountain with a 22 pound backpack on. My previous evening’s refreshing shower quickly evaporated with every step. 

Luckily our hostel was towards the bottom part of the mountain inside the Medina and we could ditch the heavy bags for our lighter day backpacks. After a refreshing coffee in Dar Dadicilef’s shaded garden, we ventured into the wild- or rather, chose to continue our upwards climb to the Kasaba Fortress in the middle of the Medina. We circled the lush gardens in the middle of the medieval walls and climbed way too many stairs in the old guard tower to experience a magnificent view of the blue and white buildings littered along the hillside with the giant moss covered mountain top behind them. 

Chefchaouen is known for its periwinkle-esque buildings, doorways, and streets. Originally the Jewish people painted their homes this color, but the Moroccan people adopted it because it’s supposed to kept the buildings cooler in the summer and is said to ward off mosquitos. To most everyone else, it’s become an Instagram Mecca with some homeowners even setting up scenes of flower pots, swings, and signs to make your pictures more interesting for a small fee. While most of the streets are free to photograph, we paid for 2 views- one of which had a swing and was lined with beautiful pink flower pots leading up the staircase. Almost everywhere we wandered, we saw beauty and snapped a shot for free. We were also willing to keep walking upwards, which I doubt the Instagramers do too often. 

After an hour of windy through small alleyways and dead ends, we made it to the outer top wall of the Medina - kind of a brown colored castle wall with lookout turrets and a walkway. We followed the wall across and down lots of steep steps to a small waterfall with various juice and souvenirs vendors milling about. We sat under a shady tree and enjoyed fresh squeezed orange juice while recovering our strength from the afternoon sun. We were headed to the Spanish Mosque- up another hill and we needed the fruit sugar to give us the energy to climb.

Up and up we went, but eventually we made it and were greeted by a group of 4 friends traveling from Portugal who told us a little about their lives as we all huddled in the only shade. We had an unobstructed view of the Medina, which is said to be beautiful at sunset, but there was no way we were walking back up there in a few hours. We chose to follow a small foot path, probably a goat’s path, down to the local cemetery and back into the Medina for an early suffer. 

Most of the food we’d had thus far was far from spectacular- shawarma, dry pastries, and a subpar fried seafood plate. Chefchaouen changed our opinion on “yum”. I followed a young woman, who looked like she knew what she was doing, into a restaurant without any touters out front and in the center of the village, up stairs to a lovely rooftop restaurant that served a delicious chicken tajin in an olive and olive oil sauce, served with a bowl of mixed walnuts, raisins, and goat cheese. Turns out the woman I followed was the waitress, but clearly she picked a great place to work. 

Belly’s full, we wandered a bit more before retiring for the evening. We had a 7am bus in the morning with a mile trek to the station. 

On the Road again- Morocco adventure Day 1

After a long ass flight from Lax to Dulles, Robby picked me up with her DC friend to grab a cheap bite to eat before we boarded our night flight to Casablanca. I had thought that it was a 9 hour flight, so we’d watch a movie, get fed, and sleep a reasonable 6 hours, but turns out it was a 6.5 hour flight and with being woken up for 2 in flight meals and with uncomfortable seats, we both maybe got 2.5 hours of sleep. Needless to say, we arrived in Casablanca bloodshot and exhausted. 

Luckily our first class train ticket to Tangier’s gave us unexpected lounge access with a free coffee machine. When we boarded the train car, we discovered our tickets were for the wheelchair helper people seats and thus we sat staring at each other, 20 feet apart. I guess when you ask for extra leg room, you’re granted more than you need. 

After about 18 hours of planes and Trains, we stepped foot in Tangier’s and hailed a taxi (our automobile) to take us to our hostel in the old Medina. The only issue- the driver spoke French and didn’t know the address we wanted, so we google translated “left”, “right” “stop” while I attempted to pronounce the words and direct using google maps. All in all, we eventually made it to Bayt Alice Hostel- our home for the next 2 nights.

We offloaded our bags and headed out to explore the Medina - old walled city part of the city rich in culture, markets, winding streets, homeless cats, and buskers. It was maybe 5 minutes before we pick up our first unofficially “tour guide” who promised to show us around the area for no money and just wanted to help, but lead us on a fast-paced tour of random streets in the Medina. It was sort of nice to listen to him describe some of the sites, but a free tour guide is rarely ever free and we were being lead where he wanted to go with little time to stop and appreciate the views; he also kept talking on his phone with “blah blah blah Americans”. Not sketchy at all.

Once we got to the Kasbah (apparently it’s not a random word in a song that I thought said “Rock the Cash Box”, but instead the old fortified part of the city that used to house 5,000 people inside a Portuguese made castle wall), I’d had enough of our new friend and was like, “I want to walk along the outer wall and stare at the water and Spain across the way.” Guide was not happy because the direction we were going was not the direction he keep leading us towards. The weather was a pleasant mid 70’s with an ocean breeze, so my thoughts were to find the notable Cafe Hafa and drink a mint tea while enjoying the calm and taking in the fact that we finally made it to Morocco, were on a new adventure, and out in the world post Covid.

Of course, after drinking refreshing mint tea with a tad too much sugar, the common staple of Morocco, our “friendly guide” found us a third, or possibly fourth, time wandering the streets of the Medina and this time, got us to his final destination- a Berber shop that sells handmade rugs, cups, lamps, trinkets, etc. After seeing the view from the roof top and being told it’s rude to refuse more mint tea- we were shown rugs and mu-mu type clothing to buy. I insisted on asking the older salesman about his life and saying we would not buy anything, only listen to stories, they finally got the hint we did not want to spend our money and we were released to wander on our own.

I originally read that Morocco is a very touting country and we would be asked to go into everyone’s shops and have people being “helpful” for a small fee, but it’s not really like that. There are way less people out than I’d thought because Morocco summer starts in July, not June, and lots of people offered to help us without asking for money. But the guide thing happened, luckily his intention was to get us to the Berber shop, not to leave us in a random alley and demand a large sum before telling us how to get out- this happened our first day in India. 

All in all it I had a semi pleasant first day that wasn’t too stressful, determined the local mint tea is pretty delicious, and realized you can do a lot on little sleep. 

And the end of Hanoi, Vietnam, and the whole Trip. :(

The night train brought us into Hanoi at 4:30 in the morning. We were told to grab a taxi to our hotel, but since it was only a mile away, we decided to take an early morning stroll through the mostly deserted streets. Morning hours in most cities are so peaceful, and here, we got to cross the street without fear of being run over. Our hotel was sort of closed when we arrived, but the breakfast cook showed up at the same time as us and just knocked on the front door, waking the poor bellman asleep on the lobby couch, who let us in. 

We got to sleep in the lobby for about 45 minutes before the hotel guests started to come down for breakfast. We were only staying at the hotel until 8am, waiting for a bus to take us to Ha Long Bay - a large expanse of water with over 1100 mini islands of limestone and trees spread all over. “Ha Long” means “Descending Dragon” and it’s said that all the islands are the Dragon’s eggs.

Our bus was cramped, stopped at a marble factory where they tried to get us to buy overpriced statues, and took 4 hours, but once at the bay, we were transferred to a Junk Boat - small 20 person cruise ship that would float us around the Bay for 2 days and let us see some of the area’s main attractions. Our room was small and the bathroom smelled like a rotten egg, but it was quaint and the boat had three levels: bottom was rooms; the middle held the bar, dinning area, and more rooms; and the top was spread with lounge chairs to admire the view.

Unfortunately, the weather was quite foggy, so there wasn’t a crystal clear view of the islands with a beautiful blue sky backdrop, but it did give the mountains a grey-blue blended watercolor look. There were also about 50 other ships within half a mile of us, so the emptiness of the bay we saw on all the flyers was probably from 20 years ago. Ha Long Bay has only been open to tourism since 1994 and since then, over 500 different junk boats, day boats, sail boats, and speed boats show visitors the beauty of the area on a daily basis.

Our first stop was Ti-Top Island- a small island that the Russian liaison to Ho Chi Minh liked to come to when working with the Vietnam President, therefore the country named it after him. We could have went swimming, but 30 degree water seemed a tad cold, so we opted to join the large line headed up 300 stairs to a viewing platform looking out at the bay and more islands. It was a nice view, but probably would have been better on a sunny day and with less people.

The afternoon was spent kayaking a small inlet bordering a monkey island. We watched as cute little baby monkeys scaled down sheer limestone cliff-faces and somehow survived. There was a big monkey that stayed on “his” rock and if the other monkeys came near him, he’d get pissy and lash out. The monkeys were so cute that Robby kept paddling us closer to the island and I got mad because I did not want a cute, fluffy monkey that might have rabies on our kayak. 

While kayaking, we met a nice British couple, Dan and Becky, who were on a different junk cruise and we just talked about all the places we had been to in Vietnam while paddling back to our individual boats to take showers and enjoy sunset happy hour. Since it was New Years Eve, our boat laid out a lovely spread of fruits and chocolates with accompanying wine to celebrate in the evening. The tour leader tried to get everyone to sing a song from their country, but most people opted to dance instead. At Midnight, all of the boats in the area honked their horns, blinked their lights, and you could hear cheers across the water.

The following morning, everyone on our boat went off to see a cave, but since we were on the 3 day/2 night cruise, whereas they all were on the 2D/1N cruise, we were shuttled to two different places before being deposited on a day boat. Our kayaking couple, Dan and Becky, also happened to be on our day cruise, so we had some great people to spend the day with. We explored a cave that had small entryways leading into large chambers and was imbedded into a rock face above the water, kayaked to a sandy beach (that a bunch of other people also happened to kayak too), and visited a pearl farm where the sales lady murdered a poor oyster in front of us to show us how they dig the pearls out of the shells. 

Our day boat apparently ended at 3pm, when the normal 2D/1N cruise people start their adventures, so we had 2 hours to lounge on the sun deck of our boat and start happy hour early. When the new ship passengers came back to the boat, they were all like, “where’d you come from?” But everyone was really friendly and it was nice to spend the evening with a more talkative bunch of people. Our first group of passengers mostly spoke Korean and Indian, so it was mostly a game of charades to communicate.

Our last day on the boat was spent visiting Surprise Cave - a rather large series of cave chambers that stretch into an island interior. I think I would have enjoyed it better if there would have been some sort order to the amount of people allowed in at one time, but instead we walked-stopped-walked in a cue of 100’s. We lunched back on the boat and then we were put on a bus back to Hanoi with Dan and Becky. We joked that they were stalking us, but since they were at the boat dock first, we technically were the stalkers. 

Our Hanoi hotel, Golden Rooster, turned out to be amazing. We had been there twice before for breakfast and to wait for rides elsewhere, but we got to actually check in this time. Our room was clean, comfortable, cool, and heavenly compared to our Sapa and Ha Long Bay accommodations; a great hotel to spend our last two days in Vietnam.

Hanoi is a very big city and offers tons of activities and attractions - shows, food tours, pagodas, museums, numerous Night Markets, and the Water Puppet show - a unique show that illustrates 11th century Asian puppet tradition and tells the story of a giant turtle, a lake, and ancient village life. 8+ puppeteers use long poles to control the characters and make it appear as if the puppets are walking, dancing, and running on water. The show is accompanied by a live Vietnamese instrumental band. For only $5 and having been just 45 minutes long, it was a rather nice evening activity. 

1 day later, we saw “My Village”, an amazing performance of acrobatic ability infused with a live orchestra that told the story of a Vietnamese tribal village’s daily life. Since the only talking during the 75 minute show was singing, strategic lightening and music helped tell the story of love, loss, hardship, and friendship. I encourage everyone to see this show as it is spectacular and well worth the entrance price, plus you can meet the performers after the show and talk with them or take photos.

We spent our 1 full day in Hanoi on a City Tour visiting various tourist sights in the area. 1st stop was Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum where he is actually entombed and can be viewed on the weekends (creepy), plus Ho Chi Minh’s residence. There is a bomb shelter on the property, but no one apparently knows how big it is or the layout. 2nd stop was the “One-Pillar Pagoda” - rising from one pillar in the centre of an elegantly square shaped lotus pond, the pagoda is said to represent a lotus flower growing up out of the water.

Aside from a mini stop at a lacquer factory that showed us how a small Vietnamese village makes egg shell lacquer art, which was actually fascinating and way more time consuming than I ever thought, we toured the Museum of Ethnology for our 3rd stop. The museum had displays on most of the indigenous tribes of Indochina (Vietnam, Thailand, & Cambodia), including a few replicas of their houses, clothing, and jewelry. 

We had a tasty lunch before visiting the Temple of Literature - opened in 1070 as Vietnam’s first National University and dedicated to the study of Confucius. Our last stop on the tour was the “most beautiful pagoda”, at least according to our tour guide. If you take a picture of Tran Quoc Pagoda from the side with the incense pillars that house real monk’s ashes, it is rather lovely. It’s also situated on the edge of the West Lake - 17km expanse of water that borders a bunch of the taller buildings in the city. There are approximately 30 lakes in Hanoi. 

For our last few hours in the lovely city of Hanoi, Robby and I walked around admiring all the buildings and the people. We got slightly unlucky when it decided to rain, but a nice shop vendor gave us plastic bags to put our cameras in. We visited the Hoa Lo Prison, dubbed by captured American Vietnam War pilots as the “Hanoi Hilton” because of the excellent treatment they received- daily exercise; good food; education on the Vietnamese people and culture, which ended up changing their minds about the war and having most of the pilots regret bombing the hell out of the country; and general respect from the Vietnamese guards. 

The Prison was first built in 1886 by the French during their occupation of Indochina and used to imprison Vietnamese Political Prisoners who opposed the French order. Those prisoners did not fair well in the jail - often dying from treatable diseases like the flu, dysentery, and diarrhea, as well as torture. Conditions were cramped and stifling in the summer and freezing in the winter. But the prisoners never lost faith in their communistic cause as they wrote secret propaganda newsletters and taught each other their ways while chained to the floor. Their commitment to their beliefs and their willful defiance to be assimilated by the French is truly inspirational in the face of such hardships and the threat of death, that loomed over their heads daily. 

To decompress from yet another tale of sadness about a class of people committing atrocities against another group of people, Robby and I went in search of “Loading T”, a coffee shop hidden away inside a residential building that, when we found it, looked ready to crumble. But inside the building, the coffee house was adorable with flower vases on all the tables and a cozy, horticulturist’s living room vibe with a French window open to the street. The drinks weren’t too bad either.

With our time in Vietnam about up, we walked back to the Golden Rooster to grab our bags and head to the airport. We acquired a new North Fake gym bag to pack all the leather shoes we bought in Hoi An, plus some nick knacks we picked up in various night markets, so our minimalist hope for traveling lite vanished, but life is what it is and I don’t think we can every pack with “just the bare essentials”. 

Vietnam is a wonderful country with beautiful scenery; friendly people; amazing coffee shops that serve at times good coffee and at other times terrible sludge; a place of distinctive history and amazing archeological finds; vast and small cities that offer their unique highlights; and an openness to welcome all and forgive passed transgressions. This past month I’ve had a chance to relax on a boat and in the mountains, meet some wonderful people from all over the world, learn more about a couple of wars that senselessly killed millions for the purpose of power or prestige, walk for miles and miles but still be awed by the hidden gems I stumbled across, and find contentment in myself and appreciation for all that I have.

Thank you Vietnam and Cambodia, you’re wonderful countries!