Crap… I can’t believe we forgot to ask

here are things in America that we take for granted. Like toilet paper, for instance. In America, it’s pretty much assumed that when you walk into a bathroom there’ll be toilet paper. So I knew from other travelers that China didn’t typically provide this American convenience so I came prepared with TP in hand. Check. (smug smile.)

But you have to also be prepared with a repertoire of questions in order to negotiate the right place to sleep. Questions like: Do you have a toilet? Is there hot water? Is there water? Then there are other times when a tout will approach you and entice you – the weary traveler - with a statement like: “My guesthouse is at the highest peak for the best view and its just 60 Yuan.” Who DOESN'T want a nice view?!

This was the case when we arrived in Longshen to see the Dragon’s Back rice terraces. We got off the bus after a marathon bus ride and of course we’re in China so the first thing we’re trying to figure out is if we’re even in the right place. That’s when an English-speaking local woman approached us to help us figure out our bearings. With no plan for a place to sleep and dusk approaching rapidly, she baited us with an easy solution, a friendly smile, familiar language and an offer of the best, “most highest” guesthouse view of the Dragon’s Back Rice Terraces.

I don’t know about you but the first thought that comes to my mind is “Of COURSE I want the best view for eight bucks.” (smug smile.) But what we forgot to ask is, “What exactly does it take to get to this guesthouse with the best view?”

We loaded up into yet another bus and an hour later, minority village women were clamoring to carry our bags to our destination. “We got it. It’s no problem.” But we had one big bag and figured that three bucks worth of help might be worth it.

Next thing you know, we’re following a tiny village man who is carrying our 70lb. pack up a hill to where we thought the guesthouse was. We stopped about seven minutes later and thought, “Oh. That wasn’t so bad.” And we started to unload the packs from our backs. “No…” he pointed up further. He was in a rush because it was getting dark. We carry on, hiking stone steps, straight up, one-by-one. And we keep going. More steps. Darker. Higher. Steeper steps. This goes on for nearly an hour. An HOUR. Straight up. To the highest peak. With loads of gear on our backs. And one tiny village man kicking our asses all the way up the mountain. It was cold in Longshen and by the time we got to Jian’s place, but I was sweating, tired and ready for a beer and the reward of the “most highest” view we’d worked so hard for. But now it was dark… so no view.

We woke up the next morning to rainy, brown rice terraces. Not exactly the fresh green landscape we saw in the brochures back in Yangshou. Beautiful, nonetheless. Later that day we trekked our way back down slippery stone steps with the help of our minority village man. The trek was less exhausting, but we were still grateful that we had round-trip help with our giant bag.

So next time you’re negotiating a place with the best view, don’t forget to ask what it will take to get there. Because the answer in this particular case was: One tiny minority village man, about thirty Yuan, fifty minutes, good night vision and a hope to god you didn’t smoke too much the night before.

Ahhh.... Vietnam.

Where western toilets are common and toilet paper is plentiful.

Thanksgiving Hoa Down

During the Vietnam War, China Beach was a popular R&R spot for American GIs. Hoa was about eleven years old at the time and his mother would invite weary soldiers into their home and made them home-cooked meals. This was his exposure to the American language and culture and it added a rather unique character to his English.

It was Thanksgiving Day and we arrived at Hoa’s place to find him sitting with two other backpackers at a long wooden table with a growing collection of empty beer bottles. We set our packs down and asked about a room. “Don’t woooorry. We’ll work it out…” Hoa said. He looked at each of us with raised eyebrows, “Beer? Beer?” 

The guy couldn’t have been friendlier. He pulled two beers for us, asked 

our names and welcomed us to his place. Hoa assured us we could attend to the details of our arrival later, but now we should just relax. So leaving our bags sitting on the curb we sat down and he resumed his earlier conversation.

Hoa is a rather small man, even by Vietnamese standards. He speaks in a quiet voice but with an air of importance that had us all leaning in to hear what he was saying. There was also a slight slur to his speech and I was trying to figure out if this was his accent, an impediment or the result of entertaining the others well before we arrived.

It was really more of a one-way conversation because every time one of us began a story, he’d hold up his hand and say “Wait a minute… wait a minute… When I love, I love from the heart. And we should all love each other. I love you guys.” He would then lift his glass and toast around the table.

We learned a few things about Hoa right away. 1) He’s been running this place with his wife for about fourteen years and 2) He drinks like a Marine but has the build of an eleven-year old and 3) Hoa can’t really hold his liquor very well.

As the afternoon progressed, other travelers wandered in and joined our gathering. Hoa continued to try to tell everyone the same story he had been trying to work through since we arrived hours earlier, but never seemed to be able to make it past the first two sentences before being distracted and feeling the need for a toast. By now Hoa’s speech was barely understandable and the toasts were becoming more exuberant.

By about six o’clock, Hoa’s particular phrase of endearment became “Fuck you man! No-no-no wait… fuck YOU, man!” This was inevitably followed by grin that turned into a belly laugh, a round of toasting, hugs around the table and for the lucky, a kiss.

This ritual went on for the next few hours. And then the head slapping started.

Like I said, Hoa’s not a big guy, so when he slaps your head it’s not so much that it hurts, but it’s more of a signal that it’s Hoa’s bedtime. And so his shy nephew – who had been silently monitoring the situation as he set the table for dinner - demurely grabbed a guy named Ben by the arm, took him behind a wall for a second and whispered something. Ben came back with a cheery smile and in his Liverpool accent beckoned Hoa for something really important. “Hoa! Over here. There’s something I need to show you!” Well, what Hoa needed to be shown was a bed.

Hoa was led to his room multiple times only to reemerge like a restless two-year old wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything. After about twenty minutes of back-and-forth, Hoa passed out for real.

Hoa’s wife and nephew served a tableful of Westerners a feast of rice noodles, fried fish and spring rolls with spicy sauce. We clinked our beer bottles together and wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving.

Hoa has the ability to quickly make you feel a part of his family and welcomes everyone warmly. So if you should find yourself in Da Nang area of Vietnam make your way out to China Beach past the construction of the luxury hotels and down the small dirt road just opposite of Marble Mountain. At the end of the road you’ll find a humble guest house and Hoa sitting at the long wooden table with a cold beer waiting for you.

And as Hoa says himself, “If I’m not here, I’m somewhere else.”

Hoa’s Place
215 Huyen Tran Cong Chua Street
Ngu Hanh Son, Danang
hoasplace@gmail.com
tel: 0511 3969216

Hot Air Serendipity

We were in Yangshou (which ended up to be pretty touristy) for a few days and did saw the karst landscape - which is limestone jutting out everywhere. We had a few things on our list of things to do while we were there - One of which was to overlook Yangzhou from a high peak. 

We rented bikes from our hotel and figured we’d try to stumble upon a couple of sites. I say stumble because in China the maps aren’t reliable at all. You could pick up three different maps and they all will have a completely different orientation. You’d have better luck putting on a blindfold and riding aimlessly in any direction. I’m sure that they do this in order to keep you so confused that you have no other choice but to hire a guide.

But being cheap and adventurous, we nabbed a free map (and free advice) from a bike shop and headed out in what we figured was the direction in which we wanted to go. It didn’t really matter because the intention was to get away from West Street, so we followed a street sign that pointed in the general direction of somewhere called Li Pu.

That path took us along a river, by a big banyan tree and through a few villages. Believe me… it was ideal. Warm weather, clear green river, Chinese women singing crackled songs through old megaphones on floating bamboo rafts, sunset was just a couple of hours away… You really couldn’t ask for a more picturesque day. But we had no idea what was just around the bend. Chinese guys setting up a hot air balloon. Sweartagawd.

After minimal (okay, actually there was zero) negotiation, we found ourselves rising far higher than any limestone peak – so far above the karst landscape – that we were able to see Yangshou in a way could have never anticipated. Bursts of fire filled our balloon with air. We rose to a place where the breeze was quiet and calming. The last rays of sun shot through the peaks. Women rode their children home on bikes. And smoldering fires spilled light across rice fields.

This is why I love to travel - there is nothing better than serendipity. 

Hong Kong...

If you’re headed to Asia, Hong Kong is a good entre for the inexperienced Westerner. Just enough English to help you get around. Just enough Chinese to keep you confused.

I arrived in the Hong Kong airport at around 7:30 in the morning. Mercifully, many people spoke English and there was plenty of signage. But trying to do something as simple as find the lounge where I was supposed to meet Pete was another story. Luckily Hong Kong is a very wired city so I was able to shoot a quick email to him, get his location and find him.

We chucked our stuff in the hotel room, grabbed some lunch and ascended to Victoria Peak via the tram for sunset. We watched the sun go down and the lights of the Hong Kong skyline go from speckles of glitter to a full-blown spectacle. But city lights… any city can do that. What other city in the world can make their skyline dance nightly like huge electrical dance club of neon?

The next day we explored the area. Hong Kong was pretty orderly. Getting around Hong Kong is actually pretty easy because of its public transportation system. My favorite stop was the Man Mo temple which is one of the oldest temples in Hong Kong and incense coils burn in honor of two deities.

I expected the buzz of Times Square and it wasn’t until we got to Mong Kok hoards of people crowd the streets. It’s kind of like a huge electronics mall, Chinese neon, misspelled signs, street food vendors selling a bunch of stuff I put in my mouth that I didn’t bother to ask what it was. The smells ranged from ginseng to jasmine to fish and I breathed deeply at everything to make sure I took it all in. later that night we caught up over drinks in the SoHo bars.

An evening bus took us just 20 minutes out of the city where we found a string of little beach towns of Stanley, Aberdeen and Repulse Bay which hardly sounds like its name with coarse sand beaches, palm trees and restaurants along the boardwalk.

Today, the plan is we head to mainland China where the real adventure begins. We’ll spend a week or so in and around Guìlín where is sounds like there are some cool caves and breathtaking scenery.