There are times in life where magic happens. Sometimes the magic is simple. Like escaping the triple digit heat on a Vietnam afternoon to play foosball in an empty coffee shop in the middle of town.
The self-announced best of three world championship takes place near the back of the house. The onlookers, two young Vietnamese baristas (not really onlooking). The excitement when each goal clanks into the back of the metal framed table is nearly impossible to convey. We make multiple trips to Cafe Cafao for the cool breeze of ceiling fans, iced white Vietnamese coffee, and epic foosball battles that, in the moment, rival any sporting event in the world.
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Watching the evening traffic go by, we sit happily from one of two small tables fronting the open air windows of Pho Xua restaurant near Hoi An’s ancient town. The street is full of tangled motor bikes, wandering tourists and restaurant hosts offering something to eat to each person who passes. Sharing a single bench seat, the table quickly fills up with large bottles of beer, veggie spring rolls, fried rice, and delicious pho. Like any good Vietnamese cuisine, the flavors are perfectly balanced - sweet and spicy - hot soups covered in fresh mint, cilantro and local greens. We’ve grown accustomed to this incredible customization of food, where noodle soups are dressed up with hot chilies, lime juice, fresh herbs and soy, each offering a unique taste.
The warm night air, full belly and calming feeling of a tall beer makes the unfolding street scene seem like a performance just for us; a travel moment that has gratefully been cemented in our minds. A Vietnamese woman, about 4’10” and not a day under 70, looks over with a gentle look of encouragement. She smiles as her daughter methodically kicks the wheel while she shapes the clay with her hands. Our sad excuse of a bowl wobbles before being cut with wire and placed in a row of others that have been expertly crafted. Although our bowl won’t hold pho anytime soon, we agree that it’s the perfect Mother’s Day activity, considering Megan’s mom could shape a ball of clay into a masterpiece with her eyes closed. Over 400 years old, the Thanh Ha pottery village, a few kilometers outside of Hoi An, is like a step back in time. The narrow pathways are a maze through the villager’s simple riverside homes, each with clay stacked four feet high and the smell of wood burning in the kiln.
The history of pottery in Vietnam dates back thousands of years before the Chinese domination and has been essential for trade with China, India, Japan, the Philippines and Thailand ever since. Now, the village is sustained primarily by tourism and we’re happy to purchase a ticket to explore, as well as a hand-painted vase that will arrive in the U.S. in 3-4 months. It's a rare feeling, to squat next to a potter's wheel and feel the wet clay against your hands. Regardless of the quality of the bowl, you've created something. Something people have been creating in this very spot for centuries. Anyone looking for a more in-depth history of ceramics in Hoi An should also visit the Museum of Trade Ceramics, located at 80 Tran Phu Street in Hoi An. Skeletons of bamboo rods shaped into circles and teardrops hang above our heads and wood bases with tiny slats sit near a pile of sawdust. We’ve just walked into a quasi-workshop, located in a shed that sits to the side of a private home. The woman who lives here does not speak English, but as a favor to Nhi, our homestay host, is patiently showing us how she makes Hoi An’s famous silk lanterns. The process is lengthy, and our appreciation of the craft instantly skyrockets. We learn that the daughter of this family runs a store in town, where we later buy two lanterns made by mom. The small ancient fishing town of Hoi An is well known for its lanterns and they'e everywhere. Strings sway above the streets and shops on every corner radiate light in different shapes, sizes and colors. Like a moth to a flame, it’s impossible not to be drawn in.
Like many crafts, the lanterns are a product of Vietnam’s long history of trade with its neighboring countries. There’s no doubt, however, that these lanterns are not only Vietnamese, but Hoi An-ian. Each lantern is hand made with local bamboo and covered carefully with raw silk. Many are hand painted with flowers, scenes of the countryside, or Vietnamese words. There is true pride in the craft and it shows. The Vietnamese believe that hanging a couple of lanterns in front of the house will bring happiness to the family. After witnessing the magic of the lanterns, we have no doubt. It’s fitting that the name Hoi An translates to peaceful meeting place. There’s a spiritual essence to this city, a feeling of timelessness that’s reflected in the rustic, tile-roofed buildings and narrow streets of the Ancient Town. Resting on the coast of the South China Sea and recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its magnificently preserved seaport village, this city’s history dates back to the 1st century when its harbor was the largest in Southeast Asia.
A city of great wealth, starting with the spice trade in the 7th century, Hoi An has long been the place to be. The Chinese, Japanese, Dutch and Indians settled here in the 16th and 17th centuries and their influence is clear. Hoi An’s classic Chinese lanterns glow on the quiet streets and waterways, the short city blocks dotted with the shops of custom tailors. By 10pm everything is closed, the streets empty, only the hanging lanterns to illuminate your bike ride home. The best use of time here is an afternoon wandering the backstreets, stopping in the shade of a quiet alleyway to escape the intense heat and feel the cool stone wall on your back. A sense of solitude and peace that’s unimaginable in the madness of modern day Vietnam, as our friend Nhi would say, Hoi An is truly a ‘special place.’ The bus squeals as we turn, our driver breaking around each corner of the steep downhill. We desperately try to photograph the passing mountains, breathtaking and covered with dense jungle and waterfalls. With each passing kilometer, the outside temperature and humidity increases, the jungle thins out and the ocean beckons. We're on our way to Nha Trang, Vietnam's most popular beach destination. Dubbed one of the country’s “party capitals,” the city of Nha Trang is Vietnam’s version of Miami Beach, but with a lot more Russian tourists. New development from the recent surge in tourism means the city is sprinkled with patios, rooftop bars, clubs and restaurants, many of which are half empty. The beach town is beautiful though, sitting on a 6km long stretch of yellow sand with turquoise water, book-ended by the Hon Yen, Hon Dung, and Hon Tre islands just offshore. With all of its perfect ingredients, we're prepared to fall in love with the beach town of Nha Trang. However we quickly find ourselves missing the authentic food and genuine culture that we’d experienced in Saigon and Da Lat. A town filled with Russian tourists means most of the menus (written in Russian) include “international food” (i.e. hamburgers/hot-dogs) and a hefty markup. Even the street food seems to be catering to tourists. That being said, nothing beats diving into the warm turquoise water, immediately resulting in that vacation-ey feeling we crave. Pita GR. While we've quickly become obsessed with Vietnamese cuisine, we're admittedly looking for some variety on our last afternoon at the beach. Pita GR is a super chill restaurant in the middle of the touristy district of Nha Trang. The kitchen is located downstairs, with a really hip dining area/bar upstairs. Antique sewing machines, faucets, and birdcages adorn the black and white striped walls. On the ceiling, an antique map. For Greek food in Vietnam, the veggie gyro (50,000 dong/$2.50) and a big bottle of Bia Saigon White Label (25,000 dong/$1.25) is a solid choice. Our server is awesome, giving us a small dessert on the house while being friendly and attentive throughout our lunch. Eating Greek in Vietnam may qualify as a travel fail, but the pita is served warm so we're not complaining. Iced Coffee. Sitting along the narrow patio with a checkered floor and teal decor, we feel like we've time traveled to Miami Beach in the mid-90's. The coffee is strong and sweet, but a bit expensive for Vietnam. It serves as a nice place to spend an hour researching homestays in Hoi An, but if you’re looking for a local experience, we suggest finding something more off the beaten path (cliche, but true). street food, Nha Trang style. We’ve seen and smelled the roasting corn and sweet potatoes in Da Lat, and have been craving them ever since. So when the opportunity presents itself on a walk home from the beach, we jump at the chance. “Rustic” might not be strong enough description. Imagine grilled corn from a carnival, then add in a makeshift grill sitting about 18 inches from the ground all grilled perfectly by a local woman who speaks zero English. The corn is pretty chewy and the sweet potato crazy starchy, but we deem it worthwhile for the Vietnam experience alone.
Located in Vietnam’s central highlands, Da Lat has the perfect climate for agriculture. It’s nearly impossible to miss people selling flowers, plants, fruits and vegetables from the window of your bus while riding into town. Greenhouses growing vegetables, flowers and fruit surround the hilly university town and span for miles. Beyond that, coffee farms cover hilltops and small farms grow silkworms and crickets. Private tours of 3-5 people are offered daily to many of the farms, including the ones we visited: The cricket farm. We’ll start with the moral of this story: deep fry anything in oil and garlic and it becomes edible. Now, back to the beginning. We just ate f*ing crickets! What!?!? After a trip to the Weasel coffee farm, we weren’t sure things could get any stranger. Then they did. Cricket farming is truly something you must see to believe. The insects are sectioned off based on age, ranging from 7 days to 3 months; with 2 months being the preferred age for eating. They live in large concrete areas that are about 3 feet deep. We’re told that they can’t jump out, even though many were crawling up the walls of their open sections (this blatant example of cricket stupidity helped Ryan come to terms with eating one). Not a typical part of the vegetarian diet, deep fried crickets taste a bit like a chunky potato chip. We are told they’re typically washed down with some local beer after dinner, but all we were given was hot tea. We agreed that a beer (and potentially a shot) would have helped. Officially classifying this experience under the ‘when in rome’ category. Although maybe never again. Silk Worms. We all know that silk is made from worms, right? Holding a white cocoon of silk thread that’s being carefully spun by a live worm inside, we agreed that the whole process of how silk is made is, in fact, a little fuzzy. We’re surrounded by floor to ceiling shelves holding thousands of silk cocoons and our guide, Giep, is explaining the process. The worms are collected from farmed mulberry trees and spin a cocoon of one continuous thread around their body. Before they have the chance to emerge as a moth, they are dropped into boiling water, killing the worms, then cold water to unravel the cocoon. The worm is placed in a separate container to be made into a snack (no, we didn’t eat the worm!) and the cocoon is unraveled into tiny threads and placed by hand onto a large machine to make one strand of some of the highest quality silk thread in the world. The whole process feels somewhat primitive and remarkable at the same time. About ten teenage girls (16-17) are diligently working in the factory and don’t blink an eye as we stand behind to watch them work. We’re told they work 5-6 days a week, 8 hours per day, and make 6 million dong/month (less than $300/month), half of which they send home to their parents in the north. After the thread is finished, it’s dyed and woven by the local K’ho people on large looms. To see the inner workings of these farms and factories was incredibly insightful. It was a glimpse into the daily lives of people outside the busy cities, with a local guide that helped us share these experiences respectfully. This small agricultural tour left us with a much greater understanding, appreciation, and connection with the amazing culture of this region.
Around every corner in the hilly streets of Da Lat, smoke wafts from makeshift grills balanced on two buckets with a fire of hot coals underneath. Skewers of folded pieces of meat, rows of button mushrooms, husks of corn and chicken feet rest on top as the fire is expertly fanned. As we walk down the large staircase to the town center, sleep deprived and slightly hungover, we’re drawn to the sound of an egg cracking on rice paper. The local vendor works quickly, adding green onion and chillies to her egg scramble, which is being cooked by the coals beneath. A wedge of soft cheese is added to the mix, which is finished with red chili sauce (one of the condiments of choice in Vietnam) and folded in thirds before being wrapped in what appears to be a recycled multiple choice quiz from the local school. At home we cure hangovers with an egg scramble and a bloody mary. In Vietnam, we pour sweat as we demolish grilled rice paper with egg, or Banh Trang Nuong.
The second largest exporter of coffee in the world, Vietnam grows the majority of its coffee in the central highlands and we found plenty of farms near Da Lat. Only second to Brazil in production, this country isn’t just an exporter. There is a true coffee culture here. In Da Lat, also a university town, we found dozens of awesome coffee shops, both big and small. Salt Coffee. Vietnamese coffee slowly brews into the ceramic cups on our table. A small, metal single-cup personalized French Press, used across the country for drinking traditional Vietnamese coffee, takes patience but is worth the wait. The result is an inch of strong, thick, black coffee accompanied by a small pitcher of hot water to make a local version of an Americano - with far more kick. Smoothies and blended coffee drinks are served in mason jars with a small ribbon wrapped around the top. Opt for a smoothie made with locally-grown fruits, such as mango or coconut. The iced mocha puts a frappucino to shame. Perfect for a hot day (or rainy afternoon, like when we visited!). Windmills. A trendy coffee shop near the center of Da Lat with a partially open air rooftop serving coffee drinks (both Vietnamese and Italian), smoothies, pastries and cakes. Where we stopped was a space far removed from the omnipresent sights, sounds, and smells of Vietnam’s busy streets, but Windmills has multiple locations. It’s a sneak peek in to the young, hip vibe of this hill town that’s clearly influenced by its namesake university. ‘Weasel’ Coffee. A short drive out of the city and you’ll find yourself among the coffee farmers of the central highlands. In a valley as picturesque as almost any in the world, a coffee delicacy is being created. Known as Kopi Luwak in Indonesia, but simply Weasel coffee in Vietnam, we’re talking about coffee beans that have been pooped out by civet cats (weasels). The animals eat what the producers believe to be the best berries, then defecate, leaving behind enzymes which create a coffee that’s even better than before. At first taste, it’s smoky and chocolatey, the ‘cherry’ version (for lady, apparently) a little sweeter than the ‘moka’ bean (strong, for man). Overlooking the strikingly beautiful countryside, this could be some of the best coffee we’ve ever had. Mind blowing Vietnamese coffee experience… check. *As with any product made with or from animals, the ethical treatment, or lack thereof, should always be considered. Through our research, we found that many people and organizations have serious concerns about how these animals are treated and whether the process is humane. The farm we visited featured only a few, seemingly unharmed and well-treated weasels. However, we are finding that animals are often exploited for the purposes of tourism and will not support and report on any situation that is questionable. Also worth mentioning are Bicycle Coffee and the cafe at Les Sapins 60. Both seemed like very cool spots and we'll stop by for a cup when we're back in Da Lat.
Coffee, coffee, coffee. We can't get enough, but luckily Vietnam's got plenty of it. The young man at our Saigon homestay had said Dalat was a city for two; for romance. So far, not so much. We felt solid leaving Saigon. Like we had a grasp on things and were ready to tackle new places and adventures. The Phuong Trang bus ride to the mile-high city of Da Lat was advertised as 5 hours, with two stops for bathroom breaks and food. In reality, the bus left Saigon just after 11am and arrived around 7:00pm, teetering along at 20-30 miles per hour most of the trip. Riding through outer Saigon and into the mountainous Central HIghlands region, we passed rows of makeshift homes; the ground littered with garbage. A reminder that this is still a developing nation that struggles with shoddy infrastructure and limited environmental awareness - things we often take for granted. Everything about the bus ride was, let’s say, interesting. The bus itself contains three rows of ‘sleeper’ compartments, with both bottom and top bunks. However, anyone taller than 5 feet and wider than 18 inches will have some trouble ‘sleeping’ in the half reclined leather chair, half roller coaster seat. We rotated positions, side-saddle first, then cross-legged, then legs bent and knees up. Tight, but overall doable. Near the end of our journey, the bus driver pulled over and a few passengers rushed to pick up an injured Vietnamese boy. No one on the bus spoke English and we had no way to tell what was wrong (and if he was okay), before he was whisked away in a separate van. A very strange situation that was even harder to comprehend. After finally arriving in Da Lat, we were approached by a taxi driver, offering a ride to town for 100,000 dong ($5). We disregarded the feeling that we were being ripped off, as a hot shower and dinner were calling. When we arrived at our hotel, we were told that, although we had booked through Expedia, there were no more rooms available and we were to stay in another hotel two doors down. Our ‘new’ hotel room housed two full beds, two extremely old looking flowered blankets, no sheets, tattered mosquito nets, a dirty bathroom and pleather chair, all enclosed by thin, hospital green colored walls. The addition of shouts from the room upstairs and stank eye from three middle aged women sprawled out on the lobby couch didn't help the situation. Bad vibes overall. Our intuition told us to go.
It was after 8pm when we scrambled to find a new room, not knowing that the national holiday had resulted in Da Lat being 95% full for the night. Combing through the intensely packed hilly city streets, we finally found a small hostel with a ‘caveman’ themed room that was available, but by the time we got there, it’d been taken. It was 9pm with no food since that morning and we were out of options. Our solution: locate a hillside cafe and inhale a plate of crispy potatoes (french fries) along with white rice, sauteed vegetables and multiple beers. Not exactly the awesome street food we’d enjoyed the last few days in Saigon, but the buzz and full stomach made our sleeping situation more bearable. Resigned to the dirty hotel room, we both slept atop the sunken mattress in our clothes using our packable jackets for pillows. As with all travel “curveballs”, the morning brought perspective, and as we sleepily walked out of the hotel into the city at 7am, we determined a few things: (1) we’re not 22 anymore and don’t exactly want to crash just anywhere, (2) a little extra planning goes a long way (knowing about the holiday would've helped), (3) customer ratings on Booking.com and TripAdvisor are crucial, (4) we navigated a shitty situation quite well (good to know since there are sure to be more). A nap and 2 cups of Vietnamese coffee later and we’re ready to retry Da Lat. |
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