The Last Days of Dalat

My birthday in Ho Chih Minh turned out to be an unexpectedly debaucherous night of drinking, crazy Vietnamese clubs, old friends, and new ones. Basically, it was a blast. I met up with an old college friend, Matt, who now resides and works in Ho Chih Minh as a Teddy Bear exporter, or something equally as random. I hadn't seen the guy since college graduation, but him and his (extremely international) expat comrades--from the likes of India, America, Cambodia, and Sweden--took us out for an intense night of club-hopping and celebrating, Saigon style. This included (what seemed like) endless bottles of flowing champagne, dancing in night clubs in cages, and a belly full of drunken dim sum to top it all off. I got drunk. I danced. It was fun. Denny's family also cooked an amazing seafood dinner which coincided with shots of patron, beer, and cake ... smeared over many an intoxicated face. It was most definitely a birthday I will never forget ... I really did celebrate the seemingly boring age of twenty-six with a bang.

We arrived in Dalat yesterday, a beautiful, yet somewhat boring, hillside town some ten hours away from the hustle and bustle of Ho Chih Minh. It's relaxing here, but the city is overflowing with puddles from the rain and there's not much to do, which meant I got enough downtime to catch the Terminator on TV in our three-dollar a night hotel as well kill time reading Australian tabloid magazines and a two year old European Marie Claire (in a language I couldn't distinguish), that was laying around in the hotel lobby.

We saw the city by way of motorcycle (that Denny's native cousin and friend drove), which encompassed a pretty lake, reminiscent of a cleaner and bigger lake Merritt in Oakland, a disappointing flower garden, and a lively market with a colorful cornucopia of local fruit and vegetables. We visited a quirky guest house monikered "Crazy House" which was nostalgic of a Daliesque fairy land. I think the owner/architect might be as eccentric as the house itself, whose perfectly posed glamour shots throughout the decades adorned the walls. Glamour shots aside, I respect the lady for taking a risk in designing such a kooky and creative house--in Dalat, Vietnam of all places.

Denny and I spent a few hours at V Cafe--a cute balconied cafe who, according to Lonely Planet, serves up a killer chocolate pie. We sat drinking iced coffee and chatting with a lovely Dutch couple who were on Holiday from their current home in Shanghai. I love meeting travelers and hearing their stories--everyone is so unique from my own and everyone's reason for traveling is as diverse as their countries of origin. The natives here are friendly and everyone seems intrigued, and at the same time, confused as to where I am from. I don't look American, but I'm from America? A strange concept for some to embrace but one I have come accustomed to during my travels abroad.

Dalat is a charming city, epitomous of a Vietnamese honeymoon, and a far cry from the bustling craziness of Saigon. I thought I was going to get hit by a bike every time I walked outside the door in Saigon. Here, there's nothing of the sort, and it's a sweet change. We leave for Nha Trang tomorrow which is as notorious for its beautiful beaches as it is for its late night partying. I am excited to literally do nothing all day on the beach. I just want to embrace the hot weather and work on my tan while drinking buckets of coronas. It's happening, it better happen, and I hope to God it doesn't rain the whole time. I'm sick of wearing my green, fifty cent rain poncho.

Happy Birthday to Me

Back home in San Francisco I'm still twenty-five. Here in Vietnam, I'm a little bit older, not much wiser, and turned twenty-six today. Sometimes I hate birthdays, I feel the same age but I sound so much older. Twenty-six sounds kind of old, lets be honest. I finally had a good nights sleep last night, and woke up at like 9:00 instead of 5:30 a.m as I did the night before. I'm still exhausted, it's hot as hell here in Ho Chih Minh and I'm sweating buckets constantly. It's exactly, how I imagined it to be. I think this is the first time I have spent my birthday abroad; it's surreal. I can't believe I'm in Vietnam right now. Denny's family sweetly surprised me with a birthday cake this morning, with "Happy Birthday Lena" on it, that we are going to enjoy later tonight.

Yesterday, I had some truly breathtaking meals. For lunch we went to a popular wood-thatched eatery in the center of Ho Chih Minh, called Quan An Ngon whose indivudual outdoor cooking stations created a fantastic amalgamation of smells--from sweet fish sauce, deep fried spring rolls, fresh mint and basil, to the salty scents of barbecued meat and seafood. It was probably, one of the best meals I have ever had in my life, and only a whopping seven dollars a person. We ordered more than necessary, but our hungry eyes couldn't help ordering everything on the menu that our bellies desired. We ate Banh Tom Ho Tay, delectably sweet and savory crispy shrimp and sweet potato pancake, Banh Xeo, beef noodle soup, Bo Kho Bo, the best green papaya salad with dried beef I've ever tasted--it's tangy-sweet aftertaste and spicy flavor left your mouth watering. The Tom Dat Nuong Muot Ot, Grilled prawns with chili and salt was my favorite. The crunchy outside, incredibly fragrant and spicy flavor blended with the crunchy, smoky outside, made for an explosion of textures and and tastes. For dinner we had seven courses of beef, cooked in assorted ways. It was equally as wonderful.

The food in this city is addicting; I can, and want, to eat all day. Once I'm done with one meal, I want to eat another. I think I've already gained about ten pounds, but I kind of don't care because it's so damn delicious.

Anyways, happy birthday to me, I guess. I'm gonna go eat some more food now and get a two dollar massage from a blind person. Maybe drink a Saigon Beer a long the way too.

Scents of Saigon

After a fourteen hour flight, a lay over in Hong Kong, a Starbucks coffee, and about five disgusting, individually wrapped, airplane meals that left me unsatisfied, I finally landed in my destination--Saigon. I got in at 10:30 a.m. where I was greeted by Denny and his family.

Obviously, being the food fanatic that I claim to be and obsessed with Asian cuisine as I am, the first thing I yerned for a was a delicious and traditional Vietnamese lunch. We were taken to a modern-interiored restaurant by Denny's cousin, and were presented with a delectable array of Vietnamese dishes which I, predictably, cannot pronounce nor know the name of, but fell madly in love with at first scent and sight. They included some savory meat on a stick which we wrapped in rice paper with cilantro and mint and dipped in peanut sauce, tiny stir-fried clams which tasted like lemongrass that you scoop like salsa with crispy rice chips, steamed rice noodle dumplings with shrimp, dipped in fish sauce, and soft rice cakes with green onions, dried shrimp, fish sauce, and deep fried pork skin chips to top it off ... washed down with a cold Vietnamese beer and fresh coconut water. Basically, the meal was everything I could of asked for as my first meal in Vietnam, or any meal at that matter.

The smell of fresh noodle soup wafts into the room above the family-run restaurant we are staying at. Everyday, groups of locals crowd the popular restaurant to get their daily fix of steaming bowls of Chinese noodle soup and Vietnamese coffee, which I have also started a not-so-secret love affair with. Condensed milk and strong coffee are true soulmates, God couldn't have matched better. Down the street there is a salon, where a few young Vietnamese ladies, with funky haircuts, work. Denny took me to get a hair shampoo and mini facial for three dollars. I got my hair washed and massaged and they washed my face with some undiscript soap and continued to do a bunch of other somewhat-scary (yet awesome) massaging techniques that included banging my forehead with something random and cucumbers placed strategically on my face. Then they blowdried and straightened my hair ... I felt like a new woman, with stick-straight hair instead of wavy, ready to take on Ho Chih Minh.

This city is insane. I've never seen so many motorcycles in my entire life. The city is covered with them like ants that creep up on you and won't let you cross the street. Everytime I step outside, I fear for my life. I guess that's just how it is living on the edge as an intrepid traveller ... you're always scared you're gonna get hit by a racing motorcylcle in the streets of Saigon. Regardless I love the city. It's so full of life from it's overcrowded walkways, street-food stalls that envelope the city in fresh scents of mint and basil, sugarcane juice, sweet fish sauce, and deep fried spring roles. I adore the outdoor caffes that adorn tree-lined boulevards and wish I could idle away days in them with my journal, a pen, and Vietnamese coffee.

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. today. Jet lag wouldn't let me sleep through the night, but a hot cup of Vietnamese coffee accompanied with noodle soup for breakfast woke me right up, and now I'm ready to explore. I can't wait to see what more this city has to offer. I can feel it's history, though i'm unfortunately lacking in education about it, through every building, every street-side food vendor, and in the warm-hearted people that encopass it. I can't wait to eat more delicious things and get lost in the cities intriquite and congested streets.

Twelve Days

Twelve days. Twelve days until steaming bowls of pho, Tuk Tuk rides, gorgeous beaches, and a sore back ... from the back pack of course. I can't wait. I leave in twelve days for Saigon (Ho Chih Minh). Every time I refer to it as "Ho Chih Minh" I get a head shake and a throat clear, where someone says, " you mean, Saigon?" From now on I may just refer to it as Saigon with "Ho Chih Minh" in parenthesis and vice versa. It's kinda like the Bombay, Mumbai thing. I call it Bombay other's call it Mumbai, but what, really, is the PC thing to call it. Or is there even a PC way to call it? I guess in the end it doesn't really matter. It's the same city no matter what you call it and all this name changing is really starting to give me a headache.

It's so like me yet so unlike me at the same time to go on such a spontaneous trip. I'm an adventurous person, but I have to admit, this is extreme for me. It really is going to be a test to see how adventurous I can really be, how dirty i'm ok with getting, how sweaty and tired I can be, while still being happy at the end of the day. Traveling has really gotten the best of me again ... I love it too much. It's deep rooted in me. It's like alcohol, or chocolate, or shopping, or something I really love but don't need--I will survive without it, but I definitely won't be as fulfilled or as happy in life. Ok, maybe it's silly to compare travel with chocolate, or shopping, and god forbid, alcohol--I'd give up any and all of those things if it meant I got to see the world some more.I've been stressed, this trip is a big deal to me. I even tried to meditate, but got bored and ended up looking up bags on Urbanoutfitters.com a half an hour later. I'm gonna keep at it though ... maybe I'll go to an Ashram in India and idle away days in the lotus pose ... finding myself spritually by way of yoga and meditation. Sounds like a great idea, in theory. Most likely, I'll just drink a shitload of beers on the beach and pass out with my belly full of samosas and coconut water.