I went to the Ho Chi Minh Museum before I left Hanoi. One of the exhibits there used “documents and artistic images” to explain how the world was during the Industrial Revolution. “These changes had a great impact on Ho Chi Minh’s thinking in his quest for national liberation,” explained the sign at the beginning of the exhibit.
What kinds of items represented the Industrial Revolution? A $34.95 buggy from Sears, Roebuck & Co., of course.
My newest travel rule:
The night before any journey, I must:
1) eat at a previously enjoyed restaurant OR
2) feel super-secure in the well-cookedness of my food (yeah, I think I just made up well-cookedness)
What brings on newest said rule? Well, the night before my flight from Luang Prabang, I was excited to find a restaurant serving Lao food. You’d think finding the local food wouldn’t be that exciting, but as every restaurant in Luang Prabang serves mainly western, Thai, or Indian food, seeing the small Lao menu was pretty exciting.
So I ordered up the one veggie dish on the menu. The green beans and rice came out at exactly the same time as a young girl approached me. She was hawking bracelets and dolls, and this was the second time during this sitting that she’d been in trying to sell her wares. Attempting as best as I could to humor her, I finally dug into the meal when she left. The beans were lukewarm and the rice room temperature. Hit by pangs of worry of eating food that hadn’t been properly cooked or that had been sitting out in the open for way too long, I dismissed my worries and convinced myself the rice wasn’t piping hot because the little pre-teen had talked for way too long.
Sadly, though, my stomach didn’t believe such convincing the next morning. Hours before my flight, I was curled up like a baby nursing a knot the size of Georgia in my stomach. Yuck. Not how you want to be feeling before hopping on a plane.
Finally I am in Laos. Getting here was quite the adventure but actually pretty fun because I got to meet loads of people. Saturday spent five hours on a bus. And Sunday and Monday about 8 hours each day on a “slow boat” putting along the Mekong River. Interestingly, though, on the over-crowded boat, I didn’t meet one American. There were at least 10 Canadians out of the about 100 people on board, yet not one Yank.
Chiang Mai is full of men with pick-up lines. It can be “Do you need a taxi?” or “Where are you going?” or sometimes it’s just a slow down with a little honk. Indeed, they’re all trying to get me in their little red trucks and take me to my next destination.
These trucks are how people travel in Chiang Mai. Songtaews, or red taxis, are the main mode of transportation. It’s a bit different, these vehicles. After flagging down one (if you haven’t already had one offered), you tell the driver your destination. If he’s already going somewhat in that direction, he’ll nod you in to the back of the truck. If not, with a shake of his head, he’ll send you back to the curb to flag down the next guy. Routes obviously vary depending on what places he needs to get to, so you’ll likely not take a direct route. And the price can be negotiated before or after. In the city, they’re rarely packed. But take one to another town, and expect the driver to only leave with a full load o’ passengers…and more will be flagged in along the route. Imagine being in the back of a pick-up with fourteen other riders (and a few bags), and four guys hanging off the back.
Riding in them actually reminds me a bit of my childhood and riding in the back of my dad’s pick-up (I’m from a small town). Sidebenches aside, the main difference, though, is my dad’s truck was a Ford. Oddly, though, none of the red taxis are Ford…or Chevy…or even GMC. They’re mostly Isuzu, but there are also a few Toyotas, Nissans, Mitsubishis, and Mazdas. I’ve seen some Fords and Chevrolets on the street, but none are in use for the taxi men (yeah, I’ve only seen male drivers). I noticed this mainly because American pick-up drivers are some of the few Yanks who usually believe American vehicles are the best-made. As a past American pick-up driver myself (I’m from a small town, remember?), I agreed with that. Obviously, though, the songtaew men, don’t.
Not fully digging the songtaews, I spent the last week riding around a neon green motorbike that I affectionately named BB. I’d been riding on the back of my friends’ bikes here, and after a week of that, I figured I could handle one, too. My friend Mike said, “It’s like riding a bicycle.” After paying my 150-baht-a-day (about $5) rental fee, I hopped on and started it up. Mike was right. It is kind of like a bicycle, but I think it’s a bit closer to a riding lawnmower (it’s that small-town thing, again). Every day when I’d ride BB, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d be cutting the front yard.
But once again, motorbikes in Chiang Mai are also definitely on the Asian side…Yamaha and Honda are the big brands here. BB was a Yamaha. I’ll sure miss him! One of the coolest parts of having BB around was every time a taxi man gave me his pick-up line, I could mime riding a motorbike, and he’d just smile and drive on.
