food

it’s the little things

December 19, 2018 by Beth 1 Comment

We moved. We said goodbye to our 1-room studio apartment and hello to our 3-floor house in Long Bien. At 5 km away from Hanoi, it’s close to what we know and love, but far enough away to enjoy a different daily pace.

Front of house.
Back patio
Command central.
Top floor clothesline and garden.
Fire with scavenged wood.

Bonus. It means we get to drive across the beloved Long Bien Bridge a LOT. This bridge is unique and I love crossing that 2 km span every single time. The driving surface is raggedy and rustic, pebbled with holes and bumps, and the other drivers on the bridge are on their cell phones, basking in the breeze from the river below or just taking in the scenery. The braver tourists jam the lanes, their cameras and mouths agape, and the locals take photos while balancing on the center train line. I love it. It makes me feel alive.

But this isn’t about the beloved bridge. It’s about food. MY food.

How grateful I am for some recent little discoveries about food. And I wanted to share. Because maybe you’ll have a discovery that will make a difference.

I’ve always wrestled with autoimmune issues and have been using food to negotiate how my body feels and to heal, with great results. It’s easy to accomplish this in the US. But here in Hanoi it’s harder to do. So I have days (weeks) with flares and down time, which I have accepted as the price I pay to live here. But guess what? Now with a kitchen that has an oven and a gasp conduction cook top, I can cook. Compliant ingredients were the next step.

I’m sharing my recent finds.

I’ve discovered a source for beef marrow-filled bones. With free delivery. Huzza. Bone broth. Roasted marrow. With Himalayan pink salt. My personal nirvana. We also found some good, local pork shoulders, Doug’s favorite. Because…OVEN!

Bone broth made with roasted beef bones looks like heaven to me.

I found the AfroMiniMart [closet] that sells pure cassava and plantain flours, with no additives. Double squeal. Tortillas. Crackers. Breaded anything and everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how thrilling it is to add these ingredients to my pantry.

Pure cassava flour.
First attempt at hand-smashed cassava tortillas.
Pure plantain flour.

Next. Coconut milk yogurt. This is a daily staple, when possible. I bought a simple yogurt maker (identical to my TIOLI acquired maker on Lopez) that makes perfect yogurt with the vegan cultures carried over from the USA. After many different market visits, we found pure coconut milk with no additives. Success.

Good fat. Good milk. Good thing I like coconut.

I can get plenty of pure coconut oil here. For variety, we found real olive oil at the “gourmet” store. It’s good but definitely comes with a gourmet price. The stock continually changes and I wonder how some of the product found it’s way there. Like Costco’s Kirkland brand. How did it get there?

Dates. Another gourmet item. You know how much I love to sauté dates and add sea salt. MMMNNNnnnnnn.

One more staple is this gorgeous honey. Honey and dates are my 2 sugar sources. For some reason, the markets are flooded with pasteurized honey. Raw honey is tricky to locate. This one is wonderful.

It may seem like I’m complaining about being here. Nope. I love it here. But I also love feeling good. So why am I telling you this? If you’ve ever felt under the weather for a long time, then it changes and suddenly it feels like the clouds have lifted, the sky is blue, angels are singing–then you know how fantastic it can be. Daily life takes a lot of energy. I like to be present. Doing things. Not stumbling around, tired, feeling crappy. Finding these little things makes an enormous difference and lets my body rest and heal. So that I have more leeway to sample ALL the other interesting food here in Asia.

Here’s hoping you discover little things that make equally large differences. That is my holiday wish for you!

seasonal changes

December 18, 2018 by Beth Leave a Comment

You may think it is unendingly hot and humid here. We did, when we were first considering Vietnam. Turns out that describes the typical monsoon climate of southern VN, not here in the north. Hanoi is on the 21st parallel north.

Sure, we have seasons here. Two of them. The hot, muggy, rainy summer season has just ended and we’re entering the cold, gray, dry winter season.

The change in the weather unleashes so many feelings for us. Maybe we need the seasonal changes as much as nature does. Worldwide, people react to these changes. A slight temperature dip brings about a wardrobe change, some recipe changes and more noticeably, a joy. People seem happy. Is this universal? Cooler temperatures roll around. The aroma of fallen leaves, the fresh, clean air is the scent of earth revitalized. Time to reflect, recharge and reconnect. It is here.

I am not talking about the current apocalyptic, catastrophic life-ending climatactic changes and the ensuing joy-less depression.

It was a lovely summer on Lopez Island, way up on the 48th parallel N. Glorious. Laid back. Quick. A minor amount was accomplished constructing the Lopez studio and a major amount conquered in the eating kale department. How would we survive without Horse Drawn Farm? This farm, half-way between the ferry terminal and our place, grows voluptuous, beautiful produce. If you had visited, you’d know about the beauty of the produce and how lucky we are that they farm on the island, because we’d have dragged you to their farm stand.

Bounty of tomatoes and eggplants. — Nightshade section at the self-serve Horse Drawn Farm stand.

Doug bought a real motorcycle after getting his endorsement.

Visits and visiting happened. We love and miss our family and friends.

Amy and Maggi, thanks for road-trippin’ all the way up.

Reunion with life-long friends in Hackensack, MN.

When it was just the two of us we worked on the studio.

Nailing the last row of shingles, one end.
Nailing the last row from the other end.

Beth won the door paint rivalry. Purple.

It was a lean crabbing season, in part due to the combination of cool weather, that small hole in the boat, and a non-aligning tide schedule. Boat-dragging at low tide stinks. But not the view. It does NOT stink.

Our one good catch was 9 enormous male Dungeness.
Impromptu crab-fest. And Doug’s renown cabbage slaw.

Our half-acre is home to about 30 Douglas fir trees, ranging in age from 20 to 100 years old. Some struggle with a slow-growing brown root rot. Over time, we’ve been watching 7 old, infected trees that were dying. They’d been weakened to the point that a big wind storm would drop them on our living quarters. We had to deal with them. Translated, that means we had them chopped down into 12 foot sections. Then we bucked, rolled and stacked the rounds to dry for the year. Lumberjacking. Big fun. Right, Grands?

Log rolling. Wall building. For drying wood, not keeping others out.

Being back in Hanoi feels like home. Since our return, we searched for and found a house that doubles as a violin building studio. With guest rooms. Score–the kitchen is big AND has an oven. We released the hope that we’d find a garden-able yard. But we do have patios front, back and up high on the top-level with lots of big plants, vegetables, herbs and other growing things that definitely count as garden type materials.

We’ve unpacked this truckload and and have spread our junk out among 3 floors.

We are acquainting ourselves with this new area east of Hanoi. Tourists stick to the other side of the river. It means we get to stretch ourselves to communicate entirely in Vietnamese. And pantomime. Our handiest lifesaver is a smart-phone photo. A picture is definitely worth a thousand [mispronounced] words.

Where to buy food is always at the top of our to-do list. Our prior apartment was a short walk to a large wet market, with fresh vegetables, fruits, meats and more, available every day, sold without excess packaging or folderol whatsoever. Here in Long Bien, we’re on the prowl for something similar. So far we’ve seen some scattered dinnertime sidewalk vendors and a few obnoxiously large Vinmart stores, located in the lower levels of the scattered high-rise apartments that dot this side of the river. We’ve been in them. Too much walmart-y stuff, not enough fresh, local food. Not our thing.

We drive across the car-free Long Bien bridge often. Motorbike lanes flank both sides of the center railroad tracks on this 2 km span of the Red River.

We continue to walk around, exploring and partaking in the liveliness of everyday life here. Some photos I refuse to snap because doing so would be rude, so let me describe 2 colorful moments from today. An elderly woman in her 80s is seated on a short plastic stool on the sidewalk, at her family’s tea stand. Elegant. Enviable posture. Long gray hair beautifully wound up, snug with a carved hair clasp. Hands folded, in her lap. Watching us walk by, she smiles and waves. With both feet immersed in a large, worn, red plastic bucket, soaking. (Later, learn there’s fresh ginger in hot water.) Next picture this. A man in his 70s, regal and poised, slowly pedals his ancient-looking upright bicycle, also with impeccable posture. Wearing a dapper fedora hat probably from the 50’s. And well-worn cotton pajamas. We smile at each other and nod hello. We’re all the same underneath whatever clothes are on the outside. Human. Fueled by connections.

We’ve noticed a few down jackets appearing, a precursor for the cold front barreling down from China. The temperature is falling daily. Winter has officially arrived. Hopefully not for long.

Come visit! Not only is there a phở nhà hàng (diner) right next door, our new ‘hood has a horse.

The horse across the street in our neighborhood. Bureau of grass control.

Serendib

April 24, 2018 by Beth Leave a Comment

The cold weather (50s) and the Tet holiday (everyone leaves) provided two compelling reasons to temporarily ditch Hanoi. We travel often with our friend Douglas and this was no exception. Off we went to Sri Lanka with no firm plans except a ticketed return date.

Sri Lanka is an island south of India that is the size of western WA. With 20 million people. The population of WA state is 7.5 million. Sri Lanka is compact.

Historic Buddhist ruins in the upper center, tea plantations blanketing the hills in the lower center, and beaches all the way around. This country is 8 years out of a 26-year-long civil war between the Tamils and the Singhalese. 8 years is not long in terms of readjustment. The infrastructure is recovering, albeit slowly. Trains and buses, both inexpensive by local standards, are the primary mode of travel. The wealthier citizens own cars. Tuk tuks and motorbikes rule the outlying roads, with bicycles and cows not far behind. Walking the train tracks is acceptably the cheapest and shortest way to travel between villages.

Next to the tracks are well-worn paths to step into when a train passes.

Yes, we did.

We started by visiting Douglas’ friend living just north of the capital, Colombo. The rice paddies outside their neighborhood were loaded with birds and wildlife. And water monitors! OMG. Imagine a little lizard crossing your path. Then expand it to 3 feet or 4 or 6 feet. They resemble crocodiles. But they are lizards, and they cross the roads often. Serious adrenaline rush every time they crossed our paths.

I didn’t get a good photo of a water monitor, but here’s our friend capturing a neighborhood cow.

With so many Sri Lankan beaches to choose from, we started our route at the furthest beach town we could find. We took an 8-hour train ride to Trincomalee with a 30-minute tuk tuk to Nilaveli. Small, quiet town. Expansive, swimmable beach. Check.

Nilaveli is colorful.

School lets out as we first arrive in Trincomalee.

Locals standing around to cool off in the water. We loved the swimming.

Nilaveli is NOT teeming with restaurants. We met this family that invited us home into the living room cum restaurant. It was one of our best meals in Sri Lanka. To top it off, after they discovered our love of music, the college-aged kids stopped studying and sang a traditional song for us. During the civil war, at age 16 Margaret was sent to Germany to nanny because her family couldn’t afford food. While there, she advanced her cooking skills. Seriously, her daal was the best we’ve ever tasted.

This feast was cooked on a wood-fired clay stove and hot plate.

Sri Lanka is famous for growing tea. The plantations are stunning.

Seedling nursery, surrounded by mature plantations.

Lipton Seat, where the first plantation owner supposedly looked out at his empire. Mama dog had the best seat.

The first tea plants were smuggled in from China in the 1820s for personal consumption. The business of growing and exporting tea was created by the British in the 1860s, to supply affordable tea to the London tea-drinkers. 100,000 Tamil workers were brought in from India to keep up with the quick expansion. They worked hard and were paid little. A familiar scenario. Housing rights, land rights, education and medical care are all lacking for those locked into plantation life. Read about the true cost of your cup of tea. Unions are forming and rights are being considered with every new political turnover, but progress is slow. Traveling in this colonized country with its own modern-day slavery amplifies the need for abolishing systemic slavery on a global scale.

We walked through endless plantations going from town to town, including a few kilometers with this entertaining group on their way home from school. They taught us Tamil and Singhalese words that we shouldn’t repeat in public. Suddenly, an enormous 6′ long snake crossed our path. We ALL reacted identically. Snakes are one of the hazards of plantation work.

This is where we parted ways. See them just above the tea plants? Their houses were recently re-sided with new sheet metal. Can you imagine the daytime temperatures inside these homes?

The importance of religion was nationally apparent and ever-present. Shrines, Buddhist stupas and dagobas, Hindu temples and Islamic mosques were abundant. Catholic and Methodist churches too. Presently, there are violent clashes in Kandy and Colombo between the majority Buddhist Sinhalese and the minority Muslims. Hopefully these violent actions will subside. This violence does not align with my understanding of Buddhism. We did not see conflict during our visit. We visited numerous temples and stupas in large and small towns, and spent time speaking with people from all these religions, who live side by side in small communities. People want to have religious freedom, equitable work and a place to nurture and educate their families. Universal concepts.

Decorated 800 year old Hindu lingam representing Shiva, located in a small shrine in Polunnawura.

The oldest and only Buddhist stupa with original plaster (under the white paint) from 1180s. Kiri Vehera, located in Polunnawura.

Shiva atop the Koneswaram temple in Trincomalee.

Hindu temple top in a small village outside Haputale.

Where there are mountains, there are waterfalls. Sometimes used as bathtubs, with soap. This is outside Haputale.

This sounds cliché, but we were constantly reminded how privileged we are to travel. I like ditching first world comforts. How would I know if I liked squatters or thrones better unless I spent time comparing? The appreciation is powerful when we turn on a water faucet and hot water flows. We all have different comfort levels. And Sri Lanka has it all. The least we can do is travel responsibly, choose fair-trade, locally owned, farmed and grown products. Follow the money.

Elephants roam along the water’s edge, making surprise appearances.

Parakrama Samudra, a 30 square mile reservoir built by King Parakramabahu in the mid 1100s.

The word serendib has special meaning in Sri Lanka. Serendipity. It refers to happy accidents. We were humbled by the graciousness of strangers. We met people with inspiring stories of strength. Along the way, our understanding of the country’s hardship was heightened. Go there. You won’t regret it.

And then come to Hanoi to see us.

Day Trippin’

November 8, 2017 by Beth 2 Comments

We like to explore Hanoi and the surrounding villages, especially now that we have 2 motorbikes. Yes, Doug bought a used bike and I rent one. A quick jaunt around town and the breeze can lower your temperature faster than you can say whenthehellwillmypersonalthermostatworkagainmaybeweshouldmovetoiceland.

It’s hot. Hote. Heh.

Recently we signed up for a guided ride as a fundraiser for a local organization that helps foster young girls, called Blossom House, part of Humanitarian Services For Children in Vietnam. It’s a good cause, and we would be escorted to places we might not find on our own. We took off with 20 others, and within 10 minutes, Doug and I were on our own, separated from the group. It’s funny; months before we moved to Vietnam I had a recurring dream. It stemmed from reading about the traffic here, that you enter the stream of motorbikes and swim along like a school of fish; these dreams always devolved to being trapped in the flow, getting parted from each other and not being able to stop or find each other for years (YEARS) because we were unable to exit the flow.

Can you say déjà vu?

We were headed down the highway in a giant glob of motorbikes and cars, aiming for the Nhật Tân Bridge, fondly called the New Bridge because it was finished 2 years ago and links Hanoi to the airport. We’ve never driven motorbikes onto this bridge before.

Turns out the onramp from the road we were on is a left turn, not a right turn. I got stuck in the right side of the mob and couldn’t maneuver over to the left. Swimming. There was a left-turn light for the onramp to the bridge (yay!) but alas, no way to get to it from the right side without cutting across 3 packed lanes of swift-moving traffic which never had to stop because that part of the road continues straight through. I finally did it (oh boy you should’ve heard the horns honking at me) and there was Doug waiting on the bridge for me. Swoon.

The Nhật Tân Bridge feels enormous.

This bridge is 2.5 miles long. After a thrilling, noisy ride across, we realized we had no idea where to turn, and no one was in sight from the group.

Luckily, we had a general idea of where we would rendezvous for lunch, so we spent the morning exploring the villages and their temples along the one-lane rural road. The road is similar to Seattle’s Burke Gilman bike trail except with cows, water buffalo, chickens and goats meandering along the way.

A few hours later, we found the Lại Đà Temple and waited for the group to appear. An enormous wedding surrounded it so the wait was fun. It’s impolite here to take people-photos without their permission, so you’ll have to believe us when we say it was loud, lively and beautifully colorful.

The Lại Đà Temple is in the center of the village.

Carved dragons adorn each corner. The corners are up-turned to deflect evil spirits.

The back door to one of the buildings in the Pagoda complex.

The group finally arrived and we all enjoyed this delicious vegetarian lunch at the temple, prepared by the buddhist nuns and monks. Tempura seaweed-wrapped mushrooms, tofu spring rolls (fried and fresh), young bamboo shoot soup, noodle salads, mung bean rice, and lots more. My favorite condiment was a thinly sliced root, fried and spiced, that looked like beef jerky, to sprinkle on everything.

Our lunch sampler.

Afterwards we all cleaned up and went our separate ways. Our goal of getting out and exploring was a success.

We passed this mural project, about a mile from our house, on the railway wall. This wall surrounds portions of the Old Quarter. The artist is holding a paper drawing as her painting guide.

Mural painting on the elevated train track wall.

Coffee shop sunset, with a fishing pole attached to the railing.

A simple dinner of fried rice, caramelized pork and garlic sautéed water spinach at neighboring Mậu Dịch.

back to bún chả and bum guns

October 31, 2017 by Beth 2 Comments

We have happily returned to the chaotic energy, noise and beauty of Hanoi. Adventures are piling up and we will be sharing more soon. Until then, here are a few shots of our recent 3-day excursion south to Ninh Bình. We took the Reunification Express, of course.

We rented motorbikes and found a place to stay tucked in between limestone cliffs and forest. This area was 5 days post-flood. Sandbag dikes were still in place, water was receding but fields were still flooded. The rice had already been harvested, but the sweet potatoes and other tubers were ruined.

We visited pagodas and interesting sights, got off the beaten track, practiced our Vietnamese and relaxed.

Good place to learn how to ride a semi-automatic.

The countryside was breath-taking.

Rorschachs everywhere.

Hundreds of monk statues in the Bai Dinh Pagoda, the largest temple complex in the country.

We found Black Power monk.

Strolled through Thung Nham Bird Park, home to 1000s of herons, egrets and storks.

Many caves in this land of limestone. But only 3 choices?

Binh Dong cave temples. Lust-worthy floor tile.

We had one of these 12 cabins. Hot outside shower, soft beds and electricity. And lizards. And echoing morning rooster crows.

The view from our cabin. Yes, two hammocks.

Watching the light change was magical.

Atop the stairs at the Bai Dinh Pagoda complex.

Oh. Why bún chả and bum guns? We missed them SO MUCH this summer. Come on out and you’ll see why.

A video clip of ducks on a road.

Don’t fall in

អរគុណ aw-koon is Khmer for thank you

April 16, 2017 by Beth 2 Comments

Hanoi is cold in January and February. 60° F. Gray, windy and damp with 90% humidity. Locals call it moldy season. Down jackets are the chosen attire when outside.

This photo was a location reminder for the clock shop, since a friend was looking for a clock. This is how we find things and remember them. Most signs list the address. And see, down jackets!

After spending Tet holiday last year in the deserted city, this year for Tet we made use of our multiple-entry visas and went exploring in our neighboring country, Cambodia. Which had daily temperatures between 85-90° F. and only 40% humidity. Better.

Getting from Hanoi to Siem Reap is easy. 100 minutes flying time. Upon arrival, getting a Cambodian visa was a pleasant experience and involved a short form, $30 US each, and 15 minutes of rubbing elbows with the efficient and jovial visa/passport stampers who were entertaining themselves by trying to guess our nationalities before returning the passports. There was a lot of laughing. No one was hurried or cranky.

I had found a locally owned inn away from the city center (which is akin to a giant frat party, aptly called Pub Street) and accepted their airport pickup offer. Daughter #1 met us outside customs with our names on a piece of paper. She said it’s the first time she’s ever done that, since she’s typically away at pharmacy school in Phnom Penh, but was home helping her family during her spring break. She wasn’t sure what names to use on our sign. Their family name is first, the given name is last. Was ours? She shyly revealed the crossed-off attempts on the backside of the paper and we all laughed together. A car drove up. The driver? Dad. Happily we got in and were swallowed up by this endearing family, as we drove through the red dusty landscapes of Siem Reap. We met Daughter #2 when we arrived at the inn and they proceeded to help us, joke with us and steer us in all the right directions, while asking a million questions and answering ours.

People ask what Cambodia is like. From a visitor’s standpoint, we were charmed. Nearly everyone we met was friendly, curious and shy, full of questions and eager to interact. We found this to be true in all the cities we visited and stops we made.

How does a country recover from genocide 40 years prior? The Khmer Rouge mass murdered a quarter of the population, trying to create an agrarian utopia, free of money, family ties, religion, education, property and foreign influence. The entire city of Phnom Penh, 2 million people, was forcibly evacuated, marched to labor camps, starved, tortured and/or murdered. Ultimately, the entire middle class was killed. There were no more teachers, doctors, monks, artists, or anyone affluent. The infrastructure was demolished and rebuilding takes time. Consequently, it remains one of the poorest countries in the world. Read First They Killed My Father by Luong Ung for a personal account. A new movie of her book is also to be released early 2017 in the USA.

Add to that, how to deal with 5 million unexploded bombs and landmines? Don’t walk where the cows don’t walk. It is not a country for hiking. Be wary if a bush is growing in a rice field. Farmers don’t plant bushes in rice fields, so it’s from a bombsite disturbance, and potentially other ordinances remain. Farmers create square ponds to fit the rice paddy layout, so if a pond is round, it was created from a dropped bomb; don’t go near it. We saw these grim modern markers everywhere, while traveling in the southern portion of the country.

Tourism is a large part of the economy, and continues to grow. To accommodate, Siem Reap has exploded in size. 5 million visitors a year come to see the UNESCO world-heritage temple complex. And with good reason. The (400+) temples are fascinating. Beautiful, mystical and magical. I’m sure they’re loaded with Khmer spirits; the workers and those who lived within these complexes. There are thousands of professional photos online of the temples, so we focused on the details, which, in the context of the number of temples, was phenomenal.

We traveled with our friend Douglas, here in the tuktuk enroute to our first day of temple visits.

The Angkor Wat complex is over 400 acres.

Some temples are left to crumble back into nature.

Stunning carvings everywhere, inside and out.

The drivers would sling up a hammock in the back of their tuktuks and wait for their riders.

Water in Siem Reap and Phnom Penh is treated with huge amounts of chlorine so it tastes awful. Nearly everyone drinks filtered water.

After 4 days of temples and town, we left Siem Reap for Phnom Penh on a boat, which we later discovered was nicknamed The Silver Floating Coffin. 6 hours on the Tonle Sap River, joining the Mekong, then into the big city. We rode on top most of the time. No ladders. Self-hoist to the top and hope you don’t tumble, especially when hitting a sand bar and lunging suddenly forward.

Family-filled fishing boats casting nets were all along the Tonle Sap.

One quick night in Phnom Penh. Happy herb is a thing. Smoothies, shakes, cakes, pizzas. I tried to order an herb drink and with a headshake by the protective waitress, was told I wouldn’t like it.

During the 4 hour bus ride south to Sihanoukville, we went through many small towns.

Rest stops are being built on the highways to accommodate the surge of travelers. Fruit, pastries and crisps (pig skin) are common snacks.

We had one night in Sihanoukville, on the SW coast of Cambodia, on the Gulf of Thailand. The beaches are crowded with small motels and people but the water and sunsets are glorious.

We departed on a 3 hour boat ride to a small island (in the distance) for a week of laziness.

Our Lazy Beach cabin for the week. West side of Koh Rong Samloem.

Good drumming spot. See how close the water is? I spy 2 hammocks.

Hiked up for this beach view. 20 cabins are down there in the tree line, and one family-run cookhouse/bar/hangout building.

A 20 minute walk through the jungle to the east side, Saracen Bay.

Never enough sunsets. What you can only see at night is the magical phosphorescence in the water.

We didn’t want to leave. But we were lucky to land in Kampot for a few days on our way home. Colorful, laid-back river town in SE Cambodia.

KAMA Kampot Art and Music Association. The musical and artistic pulse of Kampot. Coffee house extraordinaire.

Daily life and graffiti walls.

Smiles and questions.

It is hot.

The Preaek Tuek Chhu River runs through the city.

Now do you want to come visit? We’re moving to Hoi An when we return in September, and we’ll have a guest room!

And maybe a gecko.

The Cambodian Genocide

Good blog with details about all the Angkor Wat temples

36 Hours in Siem Reap, NYT

The Cambodian Genocide

Trump wants repayment? OMG

Solstice

December 22, 2016 by Beth 2 Comments

It’s here. The shortest day of the year. A few thoughts:

Living here with our ingrained western perspectives in a fairly unrestricted eastern country continues to challenge our ideals and beliefs. That, combined with the disastrous political changes taking place in the US and around the world, plus understanding the pending climate disasters that will befall us sooner than we expect…gak. We should be depressed. Sometimes we are. But life goes on and the gratitude meter reads high. Life really is the little things. Here are some of our daily little things.

We have teeny weeny tiny ants that live with us. They are unnoticeable until they move. Sometimes they remind us of the scope and breadth of life on this planet. Other times they remind us to not leave food out on the counter.

New noodle discovery ON OUR BLOCK called Ngu Xa style. Hot oil, batter, noodles and egg are involved. We also stumbled upon banh tom (shrimp and sweet potato fritters) and fried swan (meaty white duck) with lemongrass. 3 blocks away!

Together we bought a cheap motorbike (Yamaha) then discovered it’s a money pit. It is for sale. We are now renting a Honda.

Beth continues teaching English to a class of 13 year old teens. They are not accustomed to adults asking them about their feelings, so of course that’s how each class starts. They like it and even the shy quiet ones are finding their voices.

There are still things we absolutely do not understand. Like midnight fishing. A small, mysterious group of men and women appear about 1am with boats, bins and a large net. They pull in hundreds and hundreds of fish, toss back a few live ones, then cart them all away on motorbikes and evacuate the area at 5:30am, when the morning loudspeakers start playing music. Who are they? What do they do with the fish?

Doug should be receiving an advanced degree for all the climate change research he’s been doing.

Beth’s primary transportation is một chiếc xe đạp. A bicycle. She’s recuperating after experiencing a Hanoian rite-of-passage. An accident. One evening, bike, body and a slow-moving swarm of motorbikes collided at a ginormous intersection. It could’ve been a lot worse than it was. The bruises are amazing. (Direct hit to elbow and knee, bones intact, cartilage…not so much.) She is looking forward to being able to touch her nose once again. A human element to that story: the swarm included a group of singers returning from rehearsal. They helped clear the mess and stayed until help arrived. And serenaded her with love songs filled with grandiose passion.

Buses work well and cost 7000 VND (30 cents) per trip. If your arm is in a sling, the bus attendant will yell at someone to move and make a seat available.

While walking around the city, sometimes it smells so bad that we can’t inhale. The beautiful aroma of a bloom emerges. The balance between the two is astounding. And instantaneous. Sometimes life here feels like that. Contrasting and alive, changing in an instant. Dynamic, scary and invigorating.

Mận. Our newest fruit. Called a plum here. Called a water apple in other places. Gorgeous red, looks almost like a red pepper. Crisp, tart, sweet and crunchy.

We often get stared at. Not because we’re white. Because we’re old, and together in public. Yesterday we were informed by the banh mi shop owner that we were the cutest old couple he’s ever seen. He sat down with us to explain that we give him hope. He’s been married 10 years and thinks life is hard, so seeing happy old people warms his heart. Then he dragged his mom out to meet us too.

These interactions warm our hearts, too. The human connection is not trivial. As for juggling between the eastern and western cultures? Pick and choose from both.

Thanks for being our friends. You matter to us.

Happy Solstice, with love.

Music sharing with another musician. The smile says it all.

Tailored

November 28, 2016 by Beth 4 Comments

After one week back in the city we wanted (needed!) some beach time. This coincided with our friend’s existing plan to visit An Bang Beach and Hoi An. Off we went together. An hour-long flight got us from Hanoi to Da Nang City. This sprawling city, 3rd largest in Vietnam, is situated on an expansive beach. This is looking north. See Lady Buddha in the distance? At 220 feet tall, she’s the tallest buddha statue in Vietnam.

Flying in to Da Nang was emotional. I couldn’t NOT think about the American War (called the Vietnam War by the US). This was the major air base for the US and the South Vietnamese air forces. On average, there were more than 2500 air traffic operations every day during that war. That’s something every 3 seconds. This area (called China Beach, but only by the US) is where US troops were sent to relax.

Looking south. Our destination, is 15 miles down the coast. And yes, all that water is warm and swimmable.

Before leaving Da Nang we met up with a friend at a fancy bar on top of a fancy hotel with a fancy infinity pool.

An Bang beach is a traditional fishing village that is on the brink of change. Guest house and restaurant/cafe construction is booming as tourists (from inside and outside Vietnam) opt for beach vacations. We stayed at a friend’s 4-room inn. Quiet, close to the beach, and relaxing.

First, Doug needed something to swim in.

The beach 2 blocks from our inn. Yes, the water was heavenly. Yes, that’s us out there . And a local fishing boat.

An Bang beach is 5 minutes away from a UNESCO world heritage site called Hoi An. This beautiful port city is loaded with old buildings, canals, temples, and has become known for paper lanterns that light the walkways at night. Tourists visit Hoi An in droves. And then they shop. 10 years ago, there were 20 tailors in town who could make you anything. Today, there are over 650. It’s hard to keep track, because as soon as someone gets reviewed on Trip Advisor, another new business opens up next door using the same name. Anyone who speaks a little English can open up a tailor front, so things change fast. Did we know this before we went there? No. But that’s ok. We gave ourselves a day of shopping and just dove in.

This is a typical tailor’s shop. They will copy any clothing item you want, or create for you whatever you desire.

She took all the measurements, then he created 2 pairs of linen pants, using my favorite pants as a pattern. $20 each.

child seat That was fun. We sat down on a stair step to rest and observe things, like baby seats on motorbikes like this one.

Then, before we knew it, we were in the “tailor hustle”. A friendly young woman struck up a conversation. Soon, she locked arms with us, friendly chatter turned into telling us about her sister’s shop, then she was dragging us to “just look”. Sure, why not. After getting tugged through a maze of shops in a cavernous marketplace, we arrive at number 46. The iPads come out, latest fashions were flipped through, measuring tapes waiting, with fabrics stacked all around. You need? Come on! A new shirt? Pants? Dress? My eyes lingered on some photos of linen tops and boom, I was hooked and the 4 personable women standing around us knew it. Sure, why not. While I was being bombarded, Doug was, too. Of course he needs a new shirt and how about some shorts, too? We stopped for a moment to breath and talk about what was happening (we truly could just say thanks and leave) but we thought, why not? It’s their livelihood and we really did need some clothes.

We made our choices, and picked the fabrics (linen!). One person quickly drew the designs in a notebook while 2 others measured us and chanted out the numbers. We were told to come back in 5 hours for a fitting. Here’s my one (blurry) photo of the indoor tailor shops.

We returned, tried on the clothes, adjustments were made for fit, and we were sent away for a few more hours and the clothes were motorbiked back to the sewing center outside town. At the end of the day, we had new shirts, shorts and a simple dress. And an understanding that if we really want perfectly fitting clothes, we should spend a lot of time (3 fittings instead of 1), find someone of our own choosing, and avoid the “touts” and commission buying that we were tugged in to. All in all, it was a good day, we practiced our Vietnamese and we helped the economy in Hoi An just a little. And one of the shirts is my new favorite.

Hoi An is both peaceful and bustling. Authentic wooden architecture from the 15th century, a structural and cultural mashup with Chinese, Japanese, French and Vietnamese influences. Temples, pagodas, humble inns and now large, modern hotels are there, too. A little bit of everything.

Baskets of pasta drying in the afternoon sun.

Fishing boats line the canal.

Incense and alters are everywhere.

Doug and Douglas along the canal. Probably discussing politics.

Temple courtyard looking out at the street and the wires, which we don’t even notice anymore.

Back to An Bang Garden Inn, the hammock, fruit for breakfast, and best of all, wave-diving at the beach.

Hoi An Tailoring insight

…summertime and the livin’ is (was) easy…

October 13, 2016 by Beth 4 Comments

We are back in our lovely little apartment in Hanoi.

Autumn is racing in, dragging the temperatures down to 85-90 degrees F. We’ve adjusted our days so that we rise early, return home by 1:00 pm, siesta (play music, study Vietnamese, obsess about climate change, try not to succumb to the US political mania), then back out after 6:00pm to scour the city for food and drink, soaking it all in as we go.

We want to share a little about our summer on Lopez Island. This count-down is as close to an annual Christmas letter as we’ll ever get.

#5 Upon returning to the US, Beth visited Whistler Mountain in the Canadian Rockies for a week with Kathi. This beautiful distraction was the ideal immersion back into western civilization. Fresh air, blue skies and endless people-watching. A remarkable contrast to Hanoi.

#4 The future is bright in our single-wide because we

can now wash laundry (dug a dry-well and carted up a billion rocks from the beach to fill it)
repaired the washing machine by taming the agitator dogs and motor coupling (thanks, youtube)
re-caulked, re-hinged, repaired, painted, planted and toiled
finally moved mini-moby (after 30+ years)

continued the repairs (thanks, Alex) after a march windstorm deposited a tree on Moby
now have free firewood (thanks, windstorm)

#3 We started building something. It’s going to be a 16′ x 20′ shared studio.

Had gigantic stumps removed, hand-dug trenches for underground utility lines and holes for 12 pier blocks. Materials arrived. Hard to imagine this orderly load of lumber can become our shop.

Dug. Swore. Leveled. Tamped. Leveled. Untamped. Shoveled. Leveled.

Lured friends over to help when possible. Labor day. Heh heh.

Later there will be two windows in the east side and two windows in the west side.

South facing front will also have two windows. Scored two fire-proof dutch doors from a neighboring job site for free.

It’s starting to look like a saloon. Slanted shed roof. Ideal for collecting water.

Battened down for the winter, awaiting plywood sheathing and a new metal roof.

#2 Family and friends came to visit.

lopez-island-campfire

grand

We ate from the local bounty, and played music as often as possible. Lopez has a lively music scene.

come back crabby lady

#1 Annie, the reason we came back early.

She died August 8, the day before her 11th birthday. She taught us a lot over the summer. Slow down, take long walks, don’t hurry. Do what you want. Don’t do what you don’t want to do. Listen to the birds. Relax when the opportunity appears. Play music. Sing. Stretch out on the couch.

Thank you all so much for the visits and help over the summer.

thanks

Now think about a visit to Vietnam!

tile-and-door

Ethno – Tourism

April 13, 2016 by Beth 1 Comment

If you visit Vietnam, you will be told to visit SaPa. To see the endless natural beauty, to rejuvenate yourself via the fresh air, to hike through the local villages, experience the sounds and smells of this unique landscape, and to explore new cultures. Of Vietnam’s 54 ethnic minority groups, there are 9 in this area alone. This breath-taking mountainous area 380 km northwest of Hanoi is near the Chinese border, and can now be accessed by the newly completed toll-highway. 6 hours of driving. 1600 m (5250 ft) high. The SaPa District has about 55,000 people; over 50% Hmong, 25% Dao, and 10% Viet Kinh (lowland Vietnamese), the balance Tay, Giay, Thai, Muong, Hua and Xa Pho.

Brochure sunrise photo (above) of the terraced rice fields. Starting in May, there is only one rice crop planted per year due to the high elevation weather conditions. As early as possible, seeds are sewn in the lowest beds, then when the weather is warmer and the upper beds have been prepared and flooded, the seedlings are transplanted.

Second brochure photo (below) taken in early summer, of a mother and daughter (Black Hmong) walking and working along the growing rice. We’re told these fields are brilliant shades of yellow and green beginning in July, until the harvest which starts in September. We are hoping to visit again the end of August. Join us.

The true original inhabitants are unknown, but left rock carvings thousands of years old. Over time, land has been illegally taken, villages bombed, indigenous peoples forced out, and repeatedly resettled by invaders. From the 1920s-1950s the French built villas and used the area as a hill-station, which is a resort area in the mountains created specifically to escape the seasonal lowland heat. After they were ousted, many ethnic minority tribes returned from China, Laos and Thailand, using SaPa as a meeting and market location. Sa means sand, pa means village so SaPa loosely translates as the place to trade goods and services. Agricultural collectives were offered in the 1970s-1980s by the government. After that, collectives were scaled back, perennial crops were encouraged and land rights were doled out. In 1993 the first foreign tourists (since the French overthrow) were allowed up there.

In February, we had the chance to hitch a ride up with an agency car that was going to SaPa to fetch clients, and we wanted to get out of dodge. The landscape became rural as soon as we left Hanoi. It was misty and overcast, strikingly, like the Pacific NW. Except for the rice fields, the water buffalo and the palm trees. These low-land rice fields were recently flooded and readied for seedling transplants, the first of 3 annual rotations. Here’s the scene from the car outside of Hanoi. When we came back through here the following week, all the fields had been planted.

The final 60 kms from Lao Cai to SaPa is narrow, twisty and congested. Crazy commute to school.

SaPa bustles. Hotels, restaurants, schools, banks, bakeries, North Face outfitters, massagers, trekking companies, hardware stores, auto shops. You name it. The trick is to try and find what’s locally owned. Responsible tourism can be hard work but is essential.

Our morning phổ restaurant in SaPa.

Local Red Dao women, our talking companions on the edge of SaPa.

Near Lai Chao. See the 2 people walking up the terraced hill?

Mama Lili, a trekking guide and homestay provider, with her phone number. We are the same age. We shared stories and entertained each other using pantomime, truncated English, and Hmong. Ua tsaug (wa chow) means thank-you.

The villages are all connected by hiking trails. Passes are purchased before entering the villages. The foot bridge in the center was built by a neighboring Dao family. They charge 5,000 VND per person (US 25 cents) to use it. When it’s warm enough, locals avoid the fee and wade across instead.

Take the time to hire a local guide and directly support the local economy. We were lucky to connect with Zu, the best guide ever (on the left). She spent the day with us, made us lunch at her house, and answered (and asked) more questions than you can imagine. She is Black Hmong, and lives in Seo Mi Ty, her husband’s village. While taking a break, we ran into her sister, who lives in a different village and was passing through.

This is Doug’s hiking helper, Mai. We all had someone to help us navigate through the mud and over the steep terraces.

Family photo. Jenny and Steve came to visit from Seattle!

Ubiquitous water buffalo.

We had lunch at Zu’s home. Yes, that’s a sharp machete and a (skilled) 5-year-old.

Corn grinder at Zu’s house. She says they grind corn every day.

Jenny gets a corn grinding lesson from Zu.

(This video is visible only if you view the post from the website, not from the emailed version.)

Here come the kids, running up the path and yelling something we never figured out.

Animals roam the villages.

The pig pack followed us for a while.

Surprise meeting on the road with friends we had met the previous day in town, 20 km away. Ma is due in one month, and explained how her husband will help deliver the baby. It was hard to say goodbye.

Ma’s village, down the hill and up the ridge.

Congestion at an intersection outside the village of Lai Chau.

Bamboo and ankles.

Bottle section of a barn wall in Ta Van.

The mountains outside SaPa were cloud-covered and hidden except for this brief moment.

Making a note of the hotel in the foreground to check the prices. EcoPalms Hotel. $115 US/night.

Ối Giời Ơi ! Expensive. Still trying to find out who owns it and where the money goes.

I would love to live and work here. These state schools are all painted yellow. Why?

I spy water buffalo grazing, slash pile burning, brush clearing by hand, and a horse.

Watching, as we walked by a Flower Hmong village, outside Bac Ha.

30 minute walk north of Bac Ha.

Buy from me! Seriously, we could’ve talked for hours with these 2 young women.

Her mother told us about this sweet baby’s ear piercing ceremony at birth.

Mooo.

Something is in the air.

SaPa and the surrounding area is magical. And complicated. Responsible tourism is hard to recognize here. It’s a free-for-all. The new road will bring even more people, expanding the impact with no end in sight. Of course there is a move towards reviewing current social and economic development plans but there are so many conflicting factors and obstacles. New construction is booming and there’s even a cable-car to the top of Fansipan Mt, above SaPa, that just opened in February. It’s imperative that growth occurs in conjunction and cooperation with the local people, so that their rights, customs and privacy can be maintained and not exploited and their livelihood be preserved. SaPa O’Chao is a social enterprise organization that I hope to spend some time with in the future, and I’m looking for others. We’ll keep you posted.

Hunger makes a great sauce, quotes Doug, religiously.

Sa Pa The Beauty That Has Turned Beast

Here’s a blog with descriptions and photos of the different tribes in the North part of Vietnam.

Vietlandia