This post was originally published in 2019. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

For some reason I thought 2018 had been more sedentary than it was; I couldn’t possibly have visited six countries – including six different locations in one of the countries and two in another, in a sense visiting over 11 different places.

Thank goodness I do these annual summaries of where I’ve been; I’d be lost (literally!) without them!

Please enjoy this summary of the places I visited in 2018 along with the adventures (and mis-adventures!) I got up to. Previous annual summaries can be found at the end of this article.

2018 in Summary

14 planes, two ferries, and countless buses and taxis shuttled me between six different countries in 2018. While none of the countries were new to me on the whole, I discovered some new haunts. The biggest surprise of the year (a surprise to me as much as anybody else) was that I set up a home base in my home town of Toronto.

And still, I traveled over 51,148 kilometers (31,782 miles), which puts 2018 in 4^th place for biggest distances traveled in the last 12 years, while remaining on the lower end of country counts for me. (Good thing I don’t actually care about ticking off countries for the sake of ticking them off)!

Here’s how 2018 rolled:

JANUARY: Chiang Mai (Thailand)

I rang in the new year in my cozy apartment in Chiang Mai Thailand where I had been since late November 2017.

While it was my second visit to Chiang Mai (the first being in 2008), it was almost unrecognizable from my previous visit. This was due in part to my staying in another part of town which had (since 2008) blossomed into “the digital nomad centre of the universe”. During my first visit, the term “digital nomad” hadn’t even yet been coined.

Chiang Mai, 10 Years Later: The Impossible Search

How to Find an Apartment in Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai’s Nimman: The Unapologetic Bubble

FEBRUARY: Hoi An (Vietnam)

My first trip to Vietnam was in 2011 as the final stage of completing the Ultimate Train Challenge which was a crazy mission involving 30 days of trains from Lisbon to Saigon. I fell in love with the food and the people, and vowed to return.

So in 2018, inspired by some verbal and written accounts of Hoi An’s beauty and friendliness towards digital nomads, the hop/skip/jump was made from Thailand.

In the areas of food and friendliness, I wasn’t disappointed with my return visit. Despite my complete inability to communicate with the locals, I felt an uncommonly friendly vibe and enjoyed miming with a few of the “market ladies” from whom I regularly bought my produce.

February 2018 also coincided with the Vietnamese New Year, which was a mixed blessing. The upshot was an invitation from my landlord to a family feast that was one of those “victories” for travelers (well at least, for me) in participating in an inherently local festivity. While the evening required extensive use of Google Translate (one of my go-to smartphone apps), it was one where I felt an almost unprecedented level of warmth and welcome from a local family.

The bad news for the month was the weather, which involved solid cloud cover and periodic rain for the entire month. I didn’t realize how badly the lack of sunshine was affecting me until one day it came out and my disposition changed entirely. Unfortunately by that point, I’d already made onward travel plans since I’d lost the will to live.

6 Weeks in Hoi An, Vietnam

Expat Life in Hoi An

MARCH: Koh Phangan (Thailand)

Since my visit to India in late 2017, I had been wrestling with a host of physical and emotional challenges that, by this time, had bled me dry. So visiting the southern Thai island of Koh Phangan was in part a sun-seeking experience, and in part a chance to participate in an intensive detox retreat which I hoped would be a way to hit “reset” on my body (and spirit) and clear it of the variety of ailments it was suffering from.

All I can say is I hope to return to Koh Phangan one day and not do a detox retreat. While I’m sure it was beneficial on the whole, it was a slugfest the entire way, and an exercise in irony and deprivation on this idyllic (even hedonistic) island.

All Life is Suffering: A Month in Koh Phangan, Thailand – incidentally one of my favourite and more entertaining pieces of writing

APRIL: Melbourne (Australia)

This detour Down Under may come as a surprise to some readers, as I never wrote about it. It was “part two” in my attempt to recover from the physical and emotional effects of what I (by this time) realized was a severe case of burnout.

Long-time readers will know that I spent 1.5 years living outside of Melbourne Australia back in 2008/09, and in that time I criss-crossed the country a few times (by campervan and then by train), survived their worst-ever natural disaster, had my first breakup on the road, and other adventures.

During that first stint I befriended a couple with whom I stayed in touch over the years, and who (knowing of my burnout) invited me to stay with them as a personalized healing retreat of sorts.

While I didn’t know this couple very well, the invitation was serendipitous, and I immediately booked a ticket. It was one of the best decisions I made, as their loving care and regular healing treatments in their clinic was instrumental – if not life-changing – for me.

It gave me the rest I sorely needed after almost 10 months of bouncing around just as many Asian countries, recovery from a variety of physical ailments, and strength to start pursuing some business and personal projects over the course of the rest of the year.

Somewhere in all this recovery, I started reflecting on what I’d learned in the last 12 years of travel. Here it is: one lesson for each year on the road: 12 Truths About Travel – and Life

MAY: NYC (USA), Toronto (Canada), London (England)

My frequent flyer mile prowess allowed me to fly from Melbourne to New York in business class for a grand total of about $600. NYC was a glorified layover enroute to my hometown of Toronto, where I planned to spend the summer.

But not before a bit more traipsing! After dropping my checked luggage in Toronto, I packed a wee bag and hopped on a flight to London for a couple of weeks of staying with some friends who had just bought a lovely house.

It rained. A lot.

JUNE: Hollywood FL (USA), Toronto (Canada)

I’m no stranger to Hollywood (in South Florida), where a dear friend of mine lives and where I have a home base of sorts. So while it’s certainly out-of-the-way between London and Toronto, I detoured anyway to visit for a couple of weeks.

JULY-OCTOBER: Toronto (Canada)

I love summers in Toronto, and the summer of 2018 was a glorious one by all accounts. Even locals (who are renowned for their weather-driven running commentary) had little to gripe about.

What was surprising was how a simple plan to spend a couple of months there evolved into getting an apartment and setting up a home base. While I never thought I would live in Toronto again, it clicked for me on a variety of levels, and I’m pleased to have made the decision.

My Epic Search for a Home Base

NOVEMBER: San Diego, Desert Hot Springs, LA, Palmdale CA (USA)

While I would have liked more time to enjoy my new place in Toronto, I have this thing about winter: I don’t do it. I grew up with it, and I loathe it. I spent the last 12 years hemisphere-hopping to avoid it, and my cozy apartment wasn’t about to sway me from maintaining my record.

So, coincidentally (or not), on the day the temperatures plummeted and it started to snow in Toronto in early November, I boarded a plane for San Diego to visit a friend. We did a wee road trip to Desert Hot Springs and Joshua Tree – which was my first taste of the American desert.

From San Diego, I bussed up to Palmdale (near LA) to visit with my boyfriend’s family; included was a little trip into LA to film a video and do a bit of sightseeing.

DECEMBER: Hollywood FL (USA) (again)

Can’t see the picture? Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

One of the reasons why Hollywood has been a frequently-visited base for me over the years is because of its proximity to Central and South America where I’ve spent the majority my time since 2014. (Well, that, and my friend there is super-cool and I have my own room at her house).

So while my visit to Hollywood in June was a detour between London and Toronto, my visit in December was perfectly enroute to Guatemala (!), where I’ll be spending the first quarter of 2019.

Summary Notes: Progress! 

In the summary of my 2017 annual travel report, I wrote the following:

It’s like every single aspect of my life has been thrown up in the air (lifestyle, location, health, relationships, career, etc), and I’m watching all the pieces float around and am waiting to see where they land. It’s simultaneously exciting and agonizing. 

If 2017 was my unraveling, then 2018 was my year for putting everything back together again (well, with a bit more unraveling for good measure in the first quarter or so of the year – as was evidenced in Koh Phangan).

In addition to my personal recovery, you’ll read soon in my annual income report for 2018 that my online business also underwent a significant overhaul and recovery process.

It was a year for many big changes, both personal and professional, not the least of which was setting up a new home base in my home town. After a dozen years of exploring expat life in a many different places, I’m enjoying the close proximity of family and friends when I’m in town (which, in the coming years, I expect will be a little over half of each year).

I own a couch now! And desk, and a bed, and a tv. And I have Canadian health care again! Most importantly, I have a place to return to after every trip, to unpack, unwind, and assimilate my experiences. Already, my travels feel lighter – literally and figuratively.

Looking into my magic crystal ball, I would say that 2019 will be a year for more transitions and transformations. I’m just not sure how yet. Let’s see! It’s far from the end of the trail for me…..rather, it’s the start of a new one.

Prior Travel Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

What I did in 2016 (5 countries and 30,000 miles, including Peru, USA, Canada, Ireland, and Ecuador)

What I did in 2017 (10 countries and 29,000 miles, including USA, Ecuador, Canada, Japan, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Macau, Sri Lanka, India, and Thailand)

This post 2018: 6 Countries, 32k Miles, And Some BIG Changes appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2018. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Hoi An Old Town

Hoi An’s old town (also known as Hoi An ancient town) is the main attraction, which is located halfway down the coast of Vietnam, a 45-minute drive from Da Nang (where the airport and train station are). With a blend of cultures and time periods, this well-preserved largely pedestrian area is full of restaurants and shops lining both sides of a river.

It’s usually pretty crowded, so if you want the place to yourself, it’s best to go early in the morning. Hoi An old town also takes on a new life at night, with colourful lanterns everywhere, and wooden boats to take you down or across the river to release floating offerings with candle lanterns.

Hoi An Cuisine

Hoi An reputedly has some of the best food in Vietnam – a country with amazing food no matter where you go. Anthony Bourdain helped put Hoi An on the culinary map, and the handful of eateries he frequented and mentioned on his television shows are not only worthy of their reputation, but also usually have a crowd to match.

Banh Mi Phuong is one such place; ironically I went because a Hoi An local told me it was his favourite place to get a traditional banh mi sandwich, only on actually going did I discover its popularity and realize why.

(Speaking of Anthony Bourdain, on his (sort of) recommendation, I saw “The Greatest Show in the History of Entertainment” in Tokyo – and I wasn’t disappointed!) 

Hoi An is also home to some special dishes you can’t get elsewhere, such as cau lau and white rose dumplings. While vegetarians may have some trouble eating on the streets of Hoi An (given the Vietnamese general love of meat, especially pork), if you have an adventurous palate and no dietary restrictions, I highly recommend trying anything and everything you see.

Because of Hoi An’s culinary leadership, cooking classes are available everywhere, and they’re great fun. I found one that involved a short market tour, followed by a boat ride down the river where we anchored and prepared the above foods and a couple of other dishes. Learning to cut vegetables as garnish (tomatoes into swans, cucumbers into hearts, and carrots into flowers) was especially fun as we all made butchered attempts.

Hoi An Markets

As part of the cooking class, I got a tour of Hoi An’s large fresh market, which shed light on dozens of otherwise unidentifiable foods had it not been for our bilingual guide.

National Pride

During my six weeks in Hoi An, a number of international soccer games were held. The air was palpable on the days Vietnam played; coffee shops and restaurants were packed beyond capacity with people crowded around televisions. When the Vietnamese team scored a goal, the cheers resonated throughout the entire town.

A few times during my stay, Vietnam won a game, and it turned into a huge event. The sidewalks were lined with people cheering on an impromptu “parade” of vehicles (mostly bikes) waving Vietnamese flags. Anybody (and everybody) with a vehicle could join this parade, which roamed around and around and around all of Hoi An, honking continuously.

This outpouring of national pride was an uncharacteristically gregarious display, given that to a larger extent in my experience, the Vietnamese people are relatively reserved. And the enthusiasm was contagious; it was hard not to get caught up in the energy of the game and after-game festivities.

Tet in Hoi An

Speaking of festivities, the Vietnamese celebrate lunar new year, known as Tet, which coincided with my time there. It’s both a good and bad time to visit Hoi An; because it’s Vietnam’s biggest holiday of the year, many restaurants and markets shut down for up to 10 days – which limits the things you can do if your time in Hoi An is short. Its also worth noting that the banks all close for about 10 days, which means that many ATMs end up running out of money. So if you’re visiting Vietnam during Tet, make sure you have enough cash before it begins.

If you’re around for a while and have made a few Vietnamese friends, you might be invited to some parties and dinners, which are beautiful displays of Vietnamese hospitality. My landlord and his family hosted a dinner for the tenants in the family compound where we all lived, and it was one of those quintessential “off the beaten path” experiences you can’t possibly plan for, but that every traveler aspires towards.

I found the build-up to Tet fascinating, with the change in pulse at local marketplaces (including the regretful disappearance of my two favourite food vendors weeks in advance), the increasing sound of karaoke parties wafting through the streets, and flowers. Oh, so many flowers. Pots and pots of flowers for sale. So many flowers, in fact, that they occupied space on entire sidewalks – a form of public decoration as much as items for sale.

The sun didn’t shine much for me during my time sampling Hoi An as an expat; the first proper day of it coincided with the appearance of these flowers, and the experience was magical, if not comical.

Where to Stay in Hoi An

Hoi An accommodation abounds. I found my accommodation in Hoi An for the first few nights on Booking.com, while I found an apartment to rent for the next 6 weeks.

More on Vietnam, From my First Visit

How to Cross the Street in Saigon – and other Bike-Centric Observations

Vietnam Food Culture: Coffee, Street Food, and Hygiene

Back of the Bike in Saigon

Random Saigon: Little Stools, Big Wires, and Lots of Smiles

This post 6 Weeks in Hoi An, Vietnam appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Unfortunately it wasn’t until almost the end of my time in Hoi An that I got into a groove and began to understand more about expat life in Hoi An, and why (and how) people who come, often stay for many years. Instead, I wrestled with the place, eventually truncating my stay and leaving (earlier than intended) after six weeks.

Here’s what happened, and what I learned about expat life in Hoi An.

Weather

I had no idea just how dramatically the weather in Hoi An was impacting my mood until it improved (after I’d already made onward plans of course).

“Hoi An really is a different place when the sun shines,” said my expat neighbours when I was lamenting one day. A solid month of grey skies and chilly(ish) temperatures had severely affected my mood. (Silver lining: it confirmed that I have no business ever living in a place where the sun doesn’t shine regularly).

But I didn’t really believe them until the sun eventually showed itself. Not only did my own mood improve, but so too did the dispositions of everybody else. The energy of Hoi An literally changed in a day, as did the scenery; a formerly drab townscape took on a new personality and colour.

My neighbours told me so. “Hoi An is three months of misery, and nine months of sunshine,” they said. Lucky for me I was there in January/February, at the tail end of the miserable season, so the constant rain and floods already had their way with the place. That, I wouldn’t have survived.

So if I can recommend a time of year to go, it would be between March and July, before the suffocating heat of summer sets in, followed by the onset of the rainy season. “Three months of misery, eight months of sunshine, and one month of ridiculous heat,” is how another expat explained Hoi An’s humid climate, further describing the hottest time of year as pretty unbearable, which happens around July/August.

Where to Stay in Hoi An: Choice of Neighbourhood/Transportation

Finding accommodation in Hoi An was relatively easy. We booked a place (through Booking.com) for the first few nights on arrival, and searched on foot for places to rent by the month.  There are a few Hoi An Expats Facebook groups, one of which is dedicated solely to properties for rent and sale. In a day, my boyfriend and I had toured two self-contained apartments that fit our needs and budget.

One was brand new (like the many places being built for short/medium term rental purposes in Hoi An at the moment), on a busy street, and about a 10-minute walk from the historic old town of Hoi An (for $350 U.S./month all-inclusive). The other was part of a family compound in the quiet neighbourhood of Cam Thanh (on a rice paddy!) a 50-minute walk from the old town (for $300/month + utilities). The neighbourhood had a local fresh food market with a number of vendors selling hot/prepared foods, which at first glance appeared to have plenty of variety.

Given that we had just spent two months in a busy area of Chiang Mai, we chose the quiet more rural location of Cam Thanh.

(See also: How to Find an Apartment in Chiang Mai)

Are you looking for accommodation in Hoi An? I thoroughly recommend Booking.com.

The problem with living rurally was, in keeping with my pattern of counter-intuitive living in Ubud and Chiang Mai, we also didn’t rent scooters, which is how everybody in this part of the world gets around. Given my own experience in a near-fatal accident in Grenada, and my boyfriend’s total lack of experience on two wheels, it just didn’t seem like a good idea. Besides which, we like to walk, we didn’t figure we’d need to visit the hustle and bustle of central Hoi An that much, and we could always Uber for about $2 each way.

Given our lack of scooters, our choice of rural neighbourhood was a mistake. We found ourselves isolated – logistically, culturally, and gastronomically.

Taking a yoga class or doing much of anything in the centre of town became too much of a “trek” to bother with on a regular basis.

Because we were living rurally and very locally, almost nobody spoke English, and we discovered Vietnamese to be a horrendously difficult language to learn and understand.

And the local selection of prepared foods at market vendors (which we had largely planned to subsist on) turned out to be quite limited.

And after my boyfriend suffered a rough bout of intestinal illness requiring antibiotics, western food was all he craved, which wasn’t particularly available in our hood. Except for one place……

The Dingo Deli Bubble

I read about Dingo Deli before arriving to Hoi An, as being a deli/restaurant/market with a selection of groceries you can’t generally get elsewhere (like imported cheese and meat and high-quality breads baked on-premises), and a very location independent-friendly atmosphere with great WiFi, lots of outlets, and even a “co-working” quiet room. (For digital nomads, it’s also worth noting that Hoi An has an official coworking space called Hub Hoi An. I didn’t go because it was a bit out of the way for me, with Dingo Deli so close).

It’s a foreigner joint through and through, featuring a western menu with western prices. You’d think the prices would keep people away (when a local Vietnamese banh mi sandwich costs less than $1, why would you pay $7 for a deli sandwich?); instead, the place is packed, all the time. I would know; I was among the ranks who made it a regular hangout and informal office space, often camping out for hours at a time. Why? Because it was the only place in walking distance of where I lived that was truly comfortable, well-equipped, and welcoming of people wanting to work and hang out.

And I learned over time, it was also a hub of expat life in Hoi An.

Learning About Expat Life in Hoi An

On my last full day I was seated at Dingo Deli when a man (who I’d seen there many times prior) approached me. “Do you live in Hoi An? I’ve seen you here a few times. I’m Syd.” (I’ve changed his name here just in case he wasn’t interested in eternal fame on my website).

“I’ve been here for the last six weeks (if you can call that living here), but I’m leaving tomorrow,” I replied.

After remarking on the unfortunate timing of our introduction, we chatted about our respective paths to and from Vietnam. He has been living in Hoi An off and on for 15 years, working the odd contract abroad (as a consultant), but always returning to Hoi An.

For Syd, life is easy in Vietnam. “I keep thinking ‘maybe I’ll try another place’, but Hoi An is where I always end up. You can live comfortably for $1,000/month. The weather is hot at times, and the rainy season is a drag, but on the whole the climate is a lot nicer than many other places. And you can really get stuff done here.” By ‘getting stuff done’, Syd was referring to Hoi An as a relatively untouched marketplace. He recently helped a local restauranteur launch a book which ultimately made a bigger splash than it could have in other more saturated markets abroad.

Gordon, the owner of Dingo Deli (a smart man who does the rounds daily and gets to know all his patrons, making the place a community rather than just a restaurant) is testament to the untouched markets of Hoi An. Eight years ago he brought his wife and two daughters to Hoi An from Australia, in an attempt to raise their girls in a non-suburban environment, away from a traditional school system and consumeristic lifestyle. His daughters are now almost grown and he feels he has succeeded in his mission. (On that note, I was surprised at the number of expat families with children I saw whilst in Hoi An).

In the last eight years, Gordon has dabbled in numerous businesses, and although he said it isn’t easy to run a businesses as a foreigner in Vietnam, it can be done (and judging by the constant stream of expats in and out of Dingo Deli every day, it can also be quite lucrative).

Syd and Gordon are both among the many ranks of expats who have made lives for themselves in Hoi An (and to a larger degree for other expats, Vietnam on the whole). The expat community in Hoi An is extensive, but feels small. With places like Dingo Deli (and other similar establishments, which you’ll discover after lurking the Hoi An Expat Facebook group), expats congregate and mingle to form a tight-knit community. When Syd and I finished our conversation, I watched him go on to greet and chat with half a dozen other expats, all of whom knew him by name.

The Visa Situation

While Gordon operates on business visas, almost all the other expats I met lived in Vietnam on tourist visas, skipping the border every three months to renew. When I asked Syd if he’s ever had trouble at immigration after 15 years of visa stamps in his passport, he shook his head. “No problem at all,” he said. This surprised me, given that many countries start to question your activities after a few visa runs.

What fascinated me was the number of expats who were able to find under-the-table work in Hoi An. Working online is one thing; waiting tables or teaching English is quite another; in a country like Vietnam, there’s no mistaking who is a foreigner and who isn’t. And my assumption that Vietnam would be strict about this (being a communist country and all) seemed to be misplaced.

I met travelers who were waiting tables to supplement their travel budget for anything from weeks to months. And I met full-on expats who had homes and roots in Hoi An, earning a full-time living at English schools.

So, if you’re interested in sampling expat life in Hoi An yourself, no problemo. Give it a whirl.

Cultural Integration in Hoi An

Cultural integration is a touchy topic among travelers and expats, and something deserving of a more in-depth exploration (coming soon). After almost a solid year of bouncing around Asia (Japan, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Macau, Sri Lanka, India, Thailand, and Vietnam), I can say that local cultural integration in Asia in general is incredibly difficult. With language and cultural barriers that are difficult to understand and transcend, you have to stay a long time and work very hard to be accepted. Although on the surface I found Vietnamese people to be hospitable and friendly, it was also somewhat superficial. I doubt that people with western backgrounds could ever truly be considered “local”. My own experience of living “off the beaten track” in a local community was more isolating than rewarding.

That’s where expat life in Hoi An comes in, providing a greater sense of community that’s lacking for foreigners. It’s not for lack of respect of the local culture by any means; rather, I see the bonding of expats as an outlet for connection – often, a deeper connection than the bonds we create in our home countries where we tend to take connection for granted. And frankly, in a greater world where connection is suffering everywhere we go due to our digital afflictions, perhaps a little in-person expat connection isn’t such a bad thing.

Given that my attempts to integrate by living locally were a bit of a flop, ironically, the most connected I felt in Hoi An was when I did a tour. Although hardcore “travelers” eschew tours as pre-fab non-local experiences, I learned more in one morning of touring Hoi An’s fresh market with a bilingual local and later cooking a meal with her, than I did in the rest of my six weeks.

Seriously. Consider taking a tour. You’ll learn a ton.

My Take on Expat Life in Hoi An

I ruminate in another post about expat life in general (pros and cons) given my experiences around the world, and the intersections between “travelers” and “expats” therein.

With regards to expat life in Hoi An, I can say that by the end of my six weeks there, I had discovered a small but thriving community of expats from around the world who were living an inexpensive and socially fulfilling life – though not particularly a life of true cultural integration; something that I believe is difficult – if not impossible – in Asia.

If you want to give expat life in Hoi An a whirl, (learn from my mistakes and) give yourself the best chance of evaluating the place fairly by arriving at a climatically favourable time of year, and getting a scooter. The rest, is up to you.

This post Expat Life in Hoi An, Vietnam appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

And I’d only been there for a week and a half.

As huge, hectic, chaotic, random, and non-sensical as Saigon is – it’s also incredibly friendly, the chaos has flow, and the random-ness is artistic, if not downright poetic.

Here are some random observations I made in my time in Saigon – observations almost as random as the place itself, but that lend a certain sense of explanation to this city with so many edges.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

A City for Little People

This has nothing to do with the stereotype that Asians are short, so don’t worry – I’m not going there (sadly, knowing I just did).

But when the majority of “street food” stools and tables along the sidewalks – and even in some restaurants – are of the miniature variety, you begin to wonder if you missed the sign welcoming you to munchkin-land.

Granted, small stools and mini tables are more space-conscious, and in a crowded city like Saigon space is premium (heck, “my” bubble tea cafe doubles as a motorcycle parking garage). But my long legs just don’t cope well with the little stools.

Webs of Wires

The webs of telephone wires that hover above the streets are so thick, I think they actually block out the sun in some places. Okay, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but as you can see from the pictures – it’s not that far off the mark.

Themed Streets and Stores

If you want a camera, you go shopping on “camera street”. For luggage, go to “luggage alley”. You’ll find coffee beans at “coffee corner” and stereos on “stereo street”. Although these aren’t official (or even remotely recognized) street names, many streets and shopping districts do indeed have informal themes.

It’s handy for comparison shopping, and although I initially surmised that it would be good for keeping prices competitive, in fact store owners (in their easy proximity to one another) simply get together and agree on a price below which they won’t venture so as not to dramatically undercut each other and let the customers in on the “real price”.

Such enterprising folks, they are.

Stuffed Animal Frenzy

I’m not sure what’s going on, but I detected a mild obsession with massive stuffed animals in Saigon. Maybe I was unwittingly staying on “stuffed animal street”, but it seemed to me that no matter where you go you’re within paw’s reach of a store selling giant stuffed animals. Who exactly buys these stuffed animals, and what they do with them – I’m not sure. Aside from seeing a few on the backs of bikes, I never saw anybody actually shopping for said creatures.

Adorable Bike Helmets

When Saigon introduced a law requiring people to wear helmets on bikes, there was a small revolt. Women didn’t want to flatten their hair and succumb to such gauche requirements!

So in order to cope with this atrocious law, a market opened up for fashionable bike helmets. From a distance you might think you’re looking at a cute cap until you get up close and realize it’s a cap with sustenance. I absolutely love these lids, although a part of me does question just how protective they truly are. Ah well – let’s not let function get too much in the way of fashion!

Contagious Smiles and Genuine Friendliness

I was really lucky to be staying at Thien Thao Hotel in District 3, which is away from the tourist fray of Saigon. Going for a walk for lunch or coffee revealed a much more local side of the city, and I rarely if ever ran into other tourists. Thus, when I was pulled by the elbow by the smiling “noodle lady” on my first morning and gestured to sit at her sidewalk establishment and sample her fare, I was happy to oblige. She wasn’t a tout flashing a menu in my face – she just wanted to cook for me. (Incidentally, her food was so good, and the charades-based conversations with she and her friends were so entertaining, I ate there many times).

If I wanted to have a more “market-based” shopping experience (buying local handicrafts for example), I had to look harder in District 3, or simply take a taxi to the centre of town where touristy District 1 lies. For these trips I could brace myself for the inevitable barrage of touts and high-pressure sales tactics used to peddle over-priced items. But I always knew I could return “home” to District 3 and breathe a sigh of relief when I got there.

On my last night in Saigon I opted not to go to the night market (which is very contrary for me; I love night markets) in favour of instead investing further in my area that I got to know over the previous 10 days. Here people didn’t pay me much mind (except to look quizzically or curiously at me, wondering if I was lost); there were no touts, just contagious smiles and genuine friendliness that, for me, characterized Saigon – and Vietnam – as a place I look forward to returning to.

Other articles about the quirks and eccentricities of Saigon that you might be interested in:

How to Cross the Street in Saigon – and other Bike-Centric Observations

Vietnam Food Culture: Coffee, Street Food, and Hygiene

Back of the Bike in Saigon

Also:

6 Weeks in Hoi An, Vietnam

Expat Life in Hoi An

This post Random Saigon: Little Stools, Big Wires, and Lots of Smiles appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Riding in the rain? Only if you were extremely unfortunate, and enjoyed flirting with death even more so than normal.

Riding on the back of a bike? Ha. That was reserved for dumb teenage girls in hot pants or people who could handle allowing somebody else to deliver them to their death without any control over the events leading up to said tragedy.

I remember all this with a smile, as I ride – on the back of a bike in Saigon, poncho on, rain coming down hard, surrounded by hundreds of other bikes in the same watery predicament.

In Canada, it’s a death wish.

In Saigon, it’s how you get around.

(And I learned, not even close to as dangerous as riding in Canada ever was).

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Back of the Bike Tours

A day with Back of the Bike Tours held two significant appeals for me. One was a chance to actually sample Saigon’s bike traffic from the inside out. After watching entire families (and ridiculous combinations of people and miscellaneous objects get around in the sea of traffic and make it look easy, I had to see what it was like for myself. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to balance on the back without holding on, as most people did.

The other appeal was my increasingly ravenous love of Vietnamese food, and a desire to better understand street-food culture and the various local dishes I couldn’t recognize but wanted to try.

Enter Chad & Thuy: Back of the Bike Tours wonder-couple.

Chad is a young American chef who came to Vietnam to work in a restaurant, and on his first day, fell madly in love with Thuy, a Vietnamese girl also working in the kitchen who captured his heart. That was a few years ago; now they are married and live in Saigon with cats, turtles, a puppy, two motorcycles, and a desire to share their passion for Vietnamese food with everybody.

The Tour

Chad & Thuy arrived on their bikes at the Thien Thao Hotel where Jeannie and I were staying, along with mutual friends and expats Angela and Max, who had their own bike and came along for our “Back of the Bikes Tour”.

“Right. What do you want to see?” Chad asked as we put on our bike helmets and adjusted the straps.

“Um….I don’t know what I don’t know!” I said. “Show me your cultural and gastronomical Saigon. I’m hungry!”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Chad said. After a short liaise with Thuy about where to start, we were off; me on Chad’s bike, Jeannie riding with Thuy, and Angela with Max.

Riding Tandem

Riding on the back of a bike was ridiculously easy. As soon as we pulled into traffic I berated myself for being so nervous. Nervous about riding up curbs, around corners, through busy intersections, and around the crush of other bikes chaotically darting in every direction.

Instead, there was an instant rhythm and flow to riding in Saigon traffic, and the slow speeds made it easy to navigate anything with relative grace and ease. I sat up and balanced without holding on – like I’d been doing it all my life. It was exhilarating, as was evidenced by my wide untameable grin.

Chad and I chatted about travel and our respective lifestyles. I asked him about his travel experience and motivations to move to Asia to be a chef.

“Adventure brought me to Vietnam, and the food and a girl kept me here,” said Chad of a country he now calls home. Shortly after they met, he and Thuy traveled the length of Vietnam on bikes, and he has sampled the food in both rural and urban centres. His love of both bikes and food makes him the perfect guide for an excursion like today’s.

Lunch

After getting our “bike legs” under us, we stopped at a small busy “restaurant” down a nondescript narrow street for a much-anticipated lunch. We found a corner to sit down while Thuy and Chad ordered up at storm at the counter, where a dozen pots and concoctions were on offer to the steady stream of customers (both eating in and taking food away).

Minutes later we were feasting on broken rice, braised fish in clay pots, pork meatballs in sweet tomato sauce, stir fried pickled cabbage, sweet and sour soup, and steamed fish with pineapple.

As an all-inclusive tour we didn’t have to worry about whipping out our wallets at each meal, but I was also pleased to observe that good food in Vietnam doesn’t break the bank; the six of us walked away stuffed for a grand total of $11 (including iced tea). That’s $11 – for all of us.

Shopping

Enroute to lunch, I casually mentioned to Chad that I had a few things I wanted to buy while I was in Saigon, and asked him for suggestions. Little did I know my shopping needs would be seamlessly incorporated into the framework of our tour, but right after lunch, we made for Saigon Centre where we browsed in the capable negotiating hands of Thuy.

“Don’t look interested,” Chad said. “The more you look like you hate it, the better. If you like something, tell Thuy,” were my words of instruction as we wove through the fray of shoppers.

And so Jeannie and I put our grimaces on and shopped for a few items. I didn’t find anything I needed (at a price I was willing to pay), but Jeannie made away with a few pieces of clothing at a great price.

Ice Cream and Fish Balls

I had no desire to railroad our day of riding bikes and eating food with comparison shopping, so after Jeannie’s purchases were made, I suggested we move on, assuring them my shopping list wasn’t urgent. So we loaded back up on our bikes and drove out for an afternoon snack: fish balls and ice cream.

This was a restaurant (again I use the term “restaurant” loosely – I’d consider most of these places as “street food”, except for the miniature tables and chairs set up in a covered nook that lends itself to being more of an organized establishment rather than a cart you stand and eat beside) that sells nothing but ice cream and fish balls.

Ice cream and fish balls are an unlikely combination to sell. You don’t eat them together, so I’m not sure what entrepreneurial stroke of wonder inspired a menu that offers nothing but these two delicacies.

In any case, that’s what we enjoyed: logan berry ice cream, followed by a helping of fried fish balls with a sweet and sour dipping sauce. Even the the unlikely marriage of these two snack foods was good.

River Break

Even with the shopping interlude, I quickly realized our pace of eating food wasn’t going to be sustainable through dinner. It was only mid-afternoon, and we were even more stuffed than we were at lunch. And although riding around was fun, we couldn’t do it constantly for the next few hours until the next meal; for starters our back-sides wouldn’t appreciate it.

Chad and Thuy had already anticipated this, and we were headed to the perfect spot to digest and enjoy some peace and quiet uncharacteristic to Saigon. We pulled up to a river-side stand with chairs set up along the river wall, and ordered fresh coconuts for everybody. The coconut water was delicious, and the long spoon to dig out the fresh coconut meat afterwards was a form of entertainment unto itself.

While we were relaxing and discussing all manner of things, a woman selling quail eggs (with salt & pepper for dipping) and green mango (with shrimp salt for dipping) tempted us with her wares, and we snacked on these as we sipped away the afternoon.

I’m not used to dipping fruit in salt, but this is common in Vietnam. I had already discovered this the hard way after dinner one night when I generously coated a slice of pineapple in what I thought was sugar but realized after-the-fact was salt. It’s a taste that requires some adjustment, but I must admit the green mango slices were nicely augmented by small doses of the shrimp salt.

Rush Hour

Eventually it was time to keep moving, as we were starting to lose light, rush hour had taken a firm hold on Saigon, and our dinner spot was across town. If I was excited to get back on the bikes, by the time I arrived to dinner I was just as excited to get off.

At first even rush hour traffic was fun. I was used to the flow of traffic and was very confident in Chad’s riding ability; there was no question about that. Weaving through unimaginable numbers of bikes all charting their own conflicting courses had an appeal all its own.

Where the effects of Saigon’s rush hour began to wear on me was in the fumes. There were a few points when even the crush of bikes had nowhere to go, and we were idling for long periods of time – along with a few hundred other exhaust-heavy vehicles. Many bikes revert to riding on the sidewalks when it comes to this, but we were wedged too far from the sidewalk to join these rebels. And the two buses directly in front of us spewing visible dark clouds of exhaust in our faces became quite overwhelming.

“Thread the needle, Chad!” Came a cheer from Max, behind us, goading us to get ahead of the fume-heavy buses by riding through the impossibly small gap between these two giant creatures. Although nothing was moving, the possibility of being squished between two buses was ever-present as we revved the motor, hesitated, then…..went for it.

It was a relief to be beyond the buses, followed shortly by a subsequent hair-raising manoeuvre using a bus as a shield of sorts against oncoming traffic for a left-hand turn.

If earlier in the day I had pompously thought I could handle riding my own bike in Saigon traffic, a pass through the city during rush hour taught me I still had a few things to learn!

Dinner

With a note of relief and some sore butts, we dismounted our bikes in District 8 at a restaurant that serves fresh beer for about 15cents a glass. Here we feasted on coconut heart salad, wild boar (which we grilled at the table ourselves) with stinky tofu sauce, minced curry eel (which you eat on prawn crackers), crab fried rice, Thailand style warm root salad, and stir-fried morning glory, and bon bon vegetables (pleasant green tubular veggies) with garlic.

Back of the Bike Tours

I’m not usually a big fan of taking tours. At least, not the mass-produced kind where you feel like you’re being carted from one replicable experience to the next. What sets Back of the Bike Tours out from the rest for me is the feeling of just going out for a ride and some great food with friends. Chad’s mastery of food and his North American background makes it easy to communicate and creates a sense of instant comfort. And Thuy’s local home-grown experience and Vietnamese upbringing lends an important authentic edge. (Not to mention they are an adorable couple, and each very friendly approachable people on their own).

You can hire Chad and Thuy for anything from a 2-hour tour to a full-day excursion, and they will customize the itinerary entirely to your needs and desires, at incredibly reasonable all-inclusive prices. Unless you have anything specific in mind, I would suggest letting them take the wheel (literally and figuratively) and take you on a culinary tour of Saigon that will leave your tummy happy and senses enthralled.

This post Back of the Bike in Saigon appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

By the time I reached Vietnam, I was almost uncontrollable. I wanted to eat everything!

Here’s what I learned while trolling the streets for the best eats and insights into Vietnam food culture:

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Vietnamese Coffee

After drinking too much instant coffee for my liking on the Trans-Manchurian, I was primed and ready for Vietnam food culture’s superstar: their legendary coffee – reputedly some of the best in the world.

Even the way it’s brewed is unique and charming – metal contraptions slowly filter the coffee into a glass which sits in a bowl of cool water (to prevent breakage I presume). And the finishing touch of a dollop of sweetened condensed milk for stirring through makes this thick delicious velvety coffee to die for. But you won’t die at the cost; at a street vendor it will run you about 7,000 Vietnamese Dong (35 cents).

Even without “milk”, the coffee is strong, somewhat sweet, and inexplicably chocolaty. I bought some Vietnamese coffee and a little coffee filter to take onwards to Grenada, and although it’s a close replication it’s not quite the same. Not surprisingly, there’s an ingredient or technique I missed along the way. Maybe the secret is in the ambiance; siting on a miniature chair on the sidewalk, watching a river of bikes go past as you sip your coffee in relative peace.

Vietnamese Street Food Delights

You don’t have to walk far on Saigon’s uneven chaotic bike-strewn sidewalks before encountering a street food vendor. Depending on the time of day, the items on offer vary, from soups to rice and fish/meat/veggies, to noodles, to sweets, corn, steamed buns, BBQ, coffee, drinks – you name it.

In my experience, the best places to get street food were the alleyways. Dart down a nondescript alley, and a host of impromptu restaurants and vendors reveal themselves. Treat yourself to the many delights within. Ignore the confused looks of many locals, who assume you’re lost. I had some of the funniest charade-based “lessons” on how to order and eat food in these places!

The most I ever paid for a street food meal was 35,000 dong ($1.70) for a delicious shrimp and squid veggie stir-fry served on a bed of flat rice noodles.

The best meal (I went back four times) was a breakfast of rice noodle crepes filled with vegetables and meat, topped off with bean sprouts, herbs, roasted garlic, and a sweet/spicy fish sauce you pour over the whole thing.

Vietnam Street Food Culture

An expat friend of mine cites Vietnam’s street food scene as intrinsic to their culture. “I love the fact that somebody who makes a good soup can open up a stall on the street corner and sell it to anybody passing by. It’s so enterprising,” he says. He hopes that it never gets formally regulated, going the way of Singapore’s organized hawker stalls (which resemble food courts).

Shopping at Markets

Almost immediately on arrival to Vietnam, I broke my golden rule of eating fruit and vegetables in developing countries: If you can’t boil it or peel it, don’t eat it! Instead, I (at first nervously, and eventually with abandon) found myself eating all manner of fresh food, drinking water (though reputedly not tap water), and even ice (which again, is apparently purified).

See also: Dealing With Parasites – A Guide to Clean Water Around the World

I’m still here and I didn’t have one bout of intestinal distress; so I figure it all went okay.

But shopping at a local market the day before I left made me think hard about everything I’d ingested in the week and a half prior.

Fish was sold out of plastic bowls on the ground, where they were kept alive in water. I watched an eel make a slippery escape and slither along the muddy pavement we were walking on before being caught, gutted, and chucked in a plastic bag for a customer – right there on the pavement.

Although much of the fish was kept on ice, meat apparently didn’t need the same attention to refrigeration. Instead freshly plucked chickens sat next to live ones out in the heat, waiting for a customer to come along so the vendor could butcher it – again right on the pavement.

I reconsidered all those fresh veggies I had, veggies that were sitting in what my North American background would suggest was the “filth” of this local market. I tried to convince myself that the food I’d eaten in stalls and restaurants was different, but I knew it all came from the same place – bustling outdoor markets like this one.

My constitution was further challenged when the local friends I was shopping with then prepared all this food (2 kinds of meat, 3 kinds of fish, and veggie skewers galore) for a BBQ event. But the food that was served bore no resemblance to what I had seen in the market that morning. It looked straight out of a magazine (the friend in question was a chef), and I forgot about what I had seen that morning in relishing one of the best meals I had in Vietnam.

I realized that North American culture has sterilized everything beyond reprieve. Many of us grow up with the concept that meat comes from styrofoam packages in the chilled aisle of a grocery store – not a farm full of animals. Produce is highly polished or waxed and balanced in pretty pyramids. What would we do if the supermarket started butchering live animals right in front of us? Arguably we should pay a premium for it, since it would be fresher than anything we normally get. But instead we’d likely be horrified, so it’s not done. So we eat meat that is days if not weeks (even months?) old.

In Vietnam, food – in every sense – is much more basic. Unapologetically honest, cooked and served with different “hygienic” standards entirely. But more people in the world live and eat like this than the sterilized supermarket cultures of western society do. Even in Europe, I’ve been to outdoor markets selling freshly caught/butchered/made fish, meat, and cheese – which has been sitting in the sun in 30+ degrees.

This lesson in food culture was quite enlightening, and gave me a deeper respect for the food I eat – everywhere in the world.

Other articles about the quirks and eccentricities of Saigon that you might be interested in:

How to Cross the Street in Saigon – and other Bike-Centric Observations

Back of the Bike in Saigon

And some later adventures in Vietnam, eight years later:

6 Weeks in Hoi In, Vietnam

Expat Life in Hoi An

This post Vietnam Food Culture: Coffee, Street Food, and Hygiene appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

But first, enjoy this short little teaser video of what it is to ride a motorcycle in Saigon!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Click here to watch this action-packed view of motorcycle traffic in Saigon as seen from the back of a bike!

People Don’t Walk Anywhere in Saigon

My first lesson in Vietnam pedestrian culture was that there aren’t really any pedestrians. Since just about everybody has a bike, there’s little reason to walk more than a few blocks. So my preferred method of exploring (being walking) was looked on bemusedly by others.

And I can only imagine how strange I looked as the “token white person” in my area out for a walk; with more broken pavement, bikes, planters, street food stalls, and other obstacles than actual pavement, walking on the “sidewalks” was more of an “off-road” exercise.

An expat friend of mine said he was leading a conversational English class in Saigon. He flashed a picture of a road and asked the students what it was. “Road,” they of course replied. When he flashed a picture of a sidewalk, they immediately chimed in with “motorcycle parking”. It seems that sidewalks in Saigon are just about anything but.

Bikes are Parked in the Strangest Places

There are a lot of bikes in Saigon. A lot. The sheer number and concentration is almost incomprehensible. And although sidewalks are glorified parking lots for bikes, it’s still not quite enough space. Many businesses also double as bike parking.

For example, the bubble tea place I regularly frequented consisted solely of a small counter at the front. The back of the establishment was home to about two dozen bikes, which regularly came whizzing in and out through the front of the store, bubble-tea-customers be damned.

How to Cross the Road in Saigon: Take a Leap of Faith

The biggest test of Saigon comfort (this also extends to the rest of Vietnam, but as the country’s largest city Saigon is an exaggerated example) is how easily you cross the road. With a never-ending river of bikes traveling in both directions (some periodically – nay, frequently – going the wrong way), how to cross the road in Saigon involves simply launching yourself into the fray and trusting that you won’t die.

Admittedly there is a little more science to crossing the road than that; the mantra is “avoid the cars, and the bikes will avoid you”. Cars and buses take precedence on the roads, and pedestrians are wise not to test that theory or they’ll get honked at (at best; run over at worst). Beyond that, walk slowly and predictably, and the bikes miraculously move around you.

The key is in being predictable. Walking one day with Jeannie, we got halfway across the road before we realized we needed to double back. Jeannie wheeled around without a thought, and had I not caught her and held her back, she’d have been Saigon’s next bike-pedestrian casualty. Bikes will avoid you, but do something unpredictable and all bets are off.

How to Take a Bike Taxi in Saigon

At just about every street corner (and often in between) are people sitting on bikes. Sitting, lying down, plucking the hairs on their faces (seriously – I saw it more than I’d care to), eating meals, whatever. Just hanging out on their bikes. For the longest time I couldn’t tell why they’d choose to spend so much time balanced precariously on a parked bike (when they could be at home perhaps), until I learned that these people are motorcycle taxi drivers.

Approach anybody who’s hanging out on their bike, and you can negotiate a fare to wherever you want to go. In fact, try to walk past them, and they’ll likely call out to you and ask you if you want a ride. (Because, like I said earlier, people just don’t walk in most parts of Saigon; surely if you’re walking you must be looking for a ride).

You’ll See the Craziest Stuff on Bikes in Vietnam

You name it; if you look long enough you’ll find it on a bike. From loads as large as full-size refrigerators and huge lengths of rebar, to three generations of families, you’ll get it all – piled on one bike.

You Might Also Be Interested In:

6 Weeks in Hoi An, Vietnam

Back of the Bike Culinary Tour in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City)

This post How to Cross the Street in Saigon – and other Bike-Centric Observations appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

We blew through Beijing, gazed at Guilin, said Hello to Hanoi, and eventually settled in Saigon.

Some of the more interesting (and random) rail experiences happened on this last part of the Ultimate Train Challenge, and my favourite train ride for scenery and photographic friendliness (due in part to windows that opened) was the last two-night ride from Hanoi to Saigon.

Please enjoy the third and final part to my video trilogy of the Ultimate Train Challenge finale adventures of The Professional Hobo. You’ll see from some of the shots and footage in the last half of the video why I liked the final train ride – and ultimately, Vietnam – so much.

Enjoy!

Click here to watch this final Ultimate Train Challenge video on YouTube.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

This post The Ultimate Train Challenge Finale: China, Vietnam [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Three of our six nights between Beijing and Saigon are spent on trains, so I have lots of time to experience Asian travel culture, make friends, and bide my time while watching the world go by.

Here are some of my random experiences:

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Beijing to Shanghai

This journey is traditionally an 11-hour ride, and has been cut down to just over five hours with the new flashy bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai – reputedly the world’s fastest train. It is an incredibly comfortable and easy ride, buffeted on either side by shiny new expansive train stations.

Random Experience #1: McDonalds “Delicacies”

Even the McDonalds at the Beijing train station is fancy, featuring a “tea restaurant of table delicacies” (pictured here) – whatever that means.

Random Experience #2: Hand-Holding

While waiting for the train, two small adorable Chinese women in some sort of uniform come trotting (literally trotting) by me, holding hands. It’s not until they’ve passed that I can see the bold writing across the backs of their cute little uniforms: SECURITY. Where I come from, security personnel are usually intimidating. This is just endearing.

Random Experience #3: Tongue-Twisting

I am seated at the front of my train car, so I simply hold my camera up at arms length facing backwards to get a shot of the car, with no idea what the picture will look like. The guy sitting just behind me gives me this gem of a shot:

Shanghai to Guilin

In an effort to save a few bucks, we opt for the 3^rd class “hard sleeper” train on the 22-hour trip from Shanghai to Guilin (which is all part of a larger 33-hour journey originating from Beijing). Although we initially regret this decision when faced with a crowded, loud, open car with three tight layers of bunk beds, it doesn’t take long to get into the fun and enjoy some of the most random of Asian train experiences.

Random Experience #4: Random Photo

Just outside of Shanghai, I take an accidental random photo with my camera, which is randomly pointed at the window. What are the chances that I catch a ferris wheel. I mean, really.

Random Experience #5: Train Food

Although vendors regularly pass through the train car selling fruit, packaged food, and prepared food, I notice most passengers bring their own food on-board; which includes a lot of instant noodles and vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu. (Yes, vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu).

Random Experience #6: Passenger Food

A middle-aged woman takes over the communal seating/table area at the end of the bunks and delicately airs a pile of mystery food in the space under the counter.

The following morning, this mystery food selection has darkened, shrivelled, and interestingly – multiplied, and she is now carefully continuing to dry out this food using the light of day. She periodically attends to the little brown packets of something, squeezing them, smelling, them, and turning them over. When she smells them I study her to see if I can get a sense for its deliciousness (thinking maybe I can tell from her expression if it’s sweet or savoury), but she gives me no clue with her stoic face.

Random Experience #7: Mystery Packages

This same woman has also commandeered the entire table between bunks for 11 wrapped boxes of something. At first I think they are box lunches, and as she shuttles more and more over to the table, I wonder if she has treated our whole section to a meal. I restrain myself from digging into one of these “lunches” which turns out to be a good thing, as I later learn from a Mary Kay girl (how’s that for random-ness? keep reading) they are “moon cakes” that are likely gifts for family and friends.

Random Experience #8: Music and Talk Radio for One and All

As I start to become annoyed at the passenger somewhere above me who is listening to the radio full-blast, I realize with some degree of horror that it’s being piped through the whole train. This deafening combination of talk radio and Chinese muzak will play for an hour, then stop for a few hours, then play for another half hour, then stop for 20 minutes, and so on. Most people seem to tune it out, despite the ear-shattering decibels.

Random Experience #9: It’s a Mary Kay Conference

As I sit on my lower bunk working on my laptop, the lady on the top bunk (with a kind face, who initially helped me locate my bunk from my cryptic train ticket) climbs down and sits cross-legged next to me, looking expectantly at my laptop, then me, then smiling. I’m not sure what she’s after, so I show her pictures of my recent adventures on The Great Wall, I play the Ultimate Train Challenge Trailer, and explain with pictures, sign language, maps, and numbers on the computer what the Ultimate Train Challenge is all about. I think she gets it, since she seems genuinely surprised and confused by my mission to travel from Lisbon to Saigon (25,000kms) by train in 30 days.

Now it’s her turn: I learn she’s a Mary Kay consultant returning home from a Mary Kay conference near Shanghai. She shows me pictures on her camera of the conference, her home, her husband and two year-old son, and her mother and father. I am quickly introduced to the rest of her gaggle of Mary Kay friends. I obediently pose for pictures with each of them and many combinations thereof.

Although we don’t share a common language (albeit she knows more English than I know of Chinese), we are best friends for the rest of the train ride; she teaches me about moon cakes, shares a pomegranate with me, we establish our ages and birthdays, my last visit to China in 1993, and we muse over a Chinese handbook with select phrases and pictures.

However our language barrier proves its limitations when I ask what the mystery food (that’s displayed and drying at the foot of our beds) is. It seems this mystery food will forever remain just that: a mystery.

Random Experience #10: Toothbrush Etiquette

A train attendant sets up shop in the middle of the car (which happens to be at the foot of my bed) around 10am. In her loudest voice she launches into a sales pitch for toothbrushes. This lasts about 10 minutes, as she extols the virtues of the brush itself with a full demonstration of its many features, along with a quick lesson on brushing techniques. I never realized a toothbrush could be deserving of such intricate descriptions. She must have done a good job, because she is swarmed by curious customers at the end of her lecture and she sells quite a few.

(Note: I also see this display on another train between Guilin and Nanning, as well as a very compelling sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels. Then again, what sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels isn’t compelling?).

Random Experience #11: Deputy Train Conductor

In the train washroom, I discover a female attendant’s hat hanging on the hook, obviously left behind by one of the conductors. I take the opportunity to stage a little photo shoot in the washroom, which also serves as a scavenger hunt score for the Ultimate Train Challenge competition.

Hanoi to Saigon

Although I dread the last train from Hanoi to Saigon (as part of a larger longer 4 day/3 night race for the finish), this 35 hour train ride actually ends up being one of my favourite train rides. The scenery is great, there’s power in our cabin (glory hallelujah), and the piece de resistance: the windows open for us to capture some great shots along the way.

Random Experience #12: Epic Instant Noodles, Station Stops

At a station stop, I pick up some instant noodles for lack of there being any food vendors with cooked food. It’s not until I dig into said noodles that I see just how cool my package of noodles is. Check out this guy!

Random Experience #13: Photographic Expose

With the window open and the humid Vietnamese air breezing through the train, I have a blast shooting reams of photos and video of the landscape between Hanoi and Saigon. Here are two random shots I get that I’m particularly proud of:

Thank you China Odyssey Tours for providing our tickets for the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. During the Ultimate Train Challenge, we managed to conquer the world’s longest train ride (the Trans-Manchurian), followed immediately by the world’s fastest. Now that’s poetry. 

This post 13 Random Experiences on Asian Trains appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!