Vacation Obiter Dicta:
A Day from Hell: Guided Tour to Hanoi
Well, I have described the general great success of our recent Asian trip, even with a few ups and downs. The time has come to lay bare the low point, by way of salutary warning to others. Smart people should not even need this admonition, as taking a guided tour anywhere is universally acknowledged in my experience by canny types to be very problematic. We have taken quite few cruises at this point, because they make travel convenient in a way that schlepping from hotel to hotel cannot be. But also, candidly, because it is a good deal for us. I am pretty sun-sensitive, and even in hotel rooms with fabulous views, after a day going around, I immediately come in an pull all the shades and turn on indirect lighting. Mutatis mutandis, the result of this predilection is that on cruises we don't mind interior cabins, because I like it dark anyways when I come in. If you are willing to have an interior "stateroom" (very funny word given the reality) cruises become really a very worthy bargain, especially if, like the Costa Romantica, there is very good food. When it comes to space the space that really matters to me is getting a Business Class seat on the plane. Fortunately we had the miles to get them, though in terms of what we had to save for those miles over time they were costly. Simply put, I would never even considered going that far without them. An interior cabin on a ship I can deal with quite well, even happily given my light sensitivity. Coach seats to Asia would have been hell.
But, wouldn't you know, reality conspired to interject a bit of hell involving cramped coach-like seats into this trip anyways. But not on a plane, rather on a bus. And here begins the tale. You see the Costa cruise had one perplexing port. The Halong Bay stop was conceivably considered a stop for Hanoi. I wish now that I would have just considered it a stop for Halong Bay which was a great highlight. We should have just spent the day taking little boats around the nooks of Halong Bay. Seeing it from the cruise ship was so incredible, that getting even closer in a small boat would only have heightened it. But this was our first stop in Vietnam, and I was still laboring under illusions of what Vietnam was like.
The saving grace of the day is related to the great joy of the trip generally. That is that our dear friends Robert and Alex came on the trip with us. We had so much fun sharing the trip with them generally. And being able to make fun of the day in Hanoi as it progressed, as Robert and I used to make fun of life generally in highschool when we were kids, made it more bearable. But it was still something to bear.
The day started off nicely enough. Instead of being loaded on the usual cruises ship tenders, which usually are annoying at best, we were escorted to very charming Vietnamese- style boats with comfortable seating. We went across part of Halong Bay, with the gorgeous rocks in the distance, and came to the spot we would pick up the bus.
America greeted us on the bus. There were very few Americans on our cruise, mostly Italians and Spanish, which means a number of handsome guys which was pleasant. But for our day tour, they had segregated people. We were on the the American bus, it was immediately apparent. As we made our to the back of the bus, I first got to hear the distaff chortle that was to define the day for me. A group of very nice people from Boston had one cranky member, named Terry. I ended up seated right in front of her. Well, the cramped coach-like seats paled in comparison to the running commentary of this lady for the the 3- and- a- half hour drive to Hanoi. Terry helpfully explained to her friends over and over that thanks to the trip they had taken to Portugal a few years ago, that she had a central insight about poor people generally in the world. She detailed how she had seen a beggar in Lisbon move from his begging- spot and later get into a Mercedes. This experience had convinced her that basically poor people in the world she encountered all "had more money than I have." This enabled her sense of righteousness in judging poor people, which she did for the whole long drive to Hanoi. I know there are many more horrible things in the world than sitting in a very well air-conditioned bus with little tassles and balls dangling in front of the windows listening to Terry comment while grim poverty passed before us. But at that moment I could barely think of one, which I know is silly. Yet I hope I'll be forgiven it, when one considers that Terry had endless random judgments about poor people going about their daily lives and not dressing the way she liked. Hell. If I have any virtue it must be related to the fact that I have decided not to judge, as matter of principle, most of the people I encounter in the world. To bump into someone who has made the completely opposite choice was really depressing.
But the day got worse. The drive took a bit longer than expected, so when we arrived in Hanoi, everyone was really, really ready for lunch which was the first stop. We came to a very fine restaurant, which I liked in a lot of ways, called I believe Red Recas. It had a French Colonial look to it in some ways, and I wish I had gone there under different circumstances. But our circumstances were to be that of arriving with about 6 other huge buses which disgorged about two hundred really hungry oldsters, me included, for what turned out, to my complete horror to be a buffet. [!] Actually there were several buffets, and the food was very good, probably the best I had in Vietnam. I had a beef dish cooked with a very excellent spice that I had never tasted before, maybe it was a type of fruit mixed in. A seafood soup with noodles had a really heavenly broth. I usually don't even like seafood soups much at all. But the scene to get the food was utter pandemonium and hell. As they say, you can't "unsee" certain things. And the experience of watching all these well- heeled Americans push and shove was just unbelievable. I felt so stupid for coming on this escapade at that point. I usually consider myself someone who thinks about ten steps ahead in life when I do anything. Vietnam scattered my caution somehow. But I still remember the food fondly.
Next stop. Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum. Just what I always wanted to see. There may be a more ugly monument in the world somewhere, but I have not seen them. Somehow they found a stone that is the color of that dreadful darkness that comes to human skin in fatal illness, and made a monument with it. The ugliness of the thing in person is barely conveyed by pictures, for that look of illness is barely appreciable. But the vexing style of the thing, which somehow makes the worst Soviet productions look light and graceful, can be appreciated in any photo. Thank God the next stop had some redeeming moments. Because with Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum grim memories of my childhood seeing war horrors from Vietnam were being to fill my throat like vomit churning up from the gut. The sickening color of the monuments stone, which is truly special in the worst way, made me want to hurl.
The Temple of Literature was truly a great contrast. It was the only really fine thing about the day. It was an ancient University, with beautiful gardens and shrines. Further, it has, without hyperbole, the most touching monument to the human intellectual life I have ever seen. It was a saving moment in a terrible day to see it. Under beautiful roofs the many, many Doctors' Stellae are preserved. These are tremendously charming and huge monuments to scholarly achievements of the past. Each stella, really a huge slab, is mounted on a giant turtle's back. The scene of all of them together as testimony to human intelligence was truly inspiring.
But that good feeling soon vanished when our bus disappeared. You would think the one good thing about a guided tour, over trying to get around in taxis, is that the bus would be there for you. Not so apparently. Our little group ran from one side to another trying to find the bus in a frenzy. In the past, I reflect, such scenes would have produced pounding headaches. I think it is the fact that over the last ten years I have habit of drinking large amounts of green tea that has somehow cleared my head sufficiently that that does not happen.
Good thing, for I needed every bit of clarity to handle the next hellish moment. Because the ASEAN Conference was going on, traffic was apparently restricted near a special lake in the center of the city our next stop. The result was that our guide, making to my mind a very foolish decision, decided to bring us there on foot from a remote location. Isn't this precisely what you supposed to be avoiding by riding around in a bus?? I can't even bring myself to describe the fright I felt as this idiot tried to get our group across crowded streets with swarms of motorcycles who obey not one traffic rule. I should put this out of my mind. Can you imagine the health care you would have encountered if you got hit in a place like this?? But like lemmings all these people crossed the street. I refused to let my husband cross the worst the streets to see the lake up close.
Then three and a half hours back in the bus. It was an eternity. Fortunately Terry had mostly shut-up by then due to exhaustion. The curious moment came on the half-way stop which we had made similarly on the way to Hanoi. It was a tourist trap with lots of crap for sale and food you could purchase. But the very amusing thing is that you could also purchase truly giant sculptures to have shipped home. I walked to the rear to see a sort of quarry & sculpture area where they produced these incredibly substantial objet du arte. At night it made an even funnier impression. It was instructive to see the abstract sculptures available, all rigidly resolving in to reassuring and unthreatening curves vaguely mother-and-child looking. Somewhere in the suburbs of Dallas, or Seattle, there is someone with this in there yard. Amazing.
But it all finally ended. I was so happy to see that charming Vietnamese boat that took us back to the ship. But wouldn't you know, it was Terry who delivered the final awful summary of the day. I chatted the Boston group up a bit, as we floted back to the ship, because I was really perplexed why people such as these would even come to Vietnam. I could not have expected Terry response. "People think you come on vacation to have a good time. That's for people who don't travel very much. No, it's hard work. I consider it work." Well, I am glad I don't share Terry's bizarre assessment of life and other people and of of vacations. On the whole I enjoyed our Asian trip quite a lot. Except for that day. It may be that there are people, even relatively rich people like Terry for whom life is nothing but a chore, and they communicate this by the rigidity and superficiality of their world-view. And it makes you wonder why they even come on vacation. Funnily enough the next day I ran into one of the group's members and his wife at the buffet. They were excellent people and had their own humorous take on the day. But I also sort of discerned from that conversation that there travel group was from a local Catholic parish in Boston. It all made a weird sort of sense then, for better and for worse.
But in general, the only lesson from the day that can sanely be drawn is :
DON'T. And we never will again.
A Day from Hell: Guided Tour to Hanoi
Well, I have described the general great success of our recent Asian trip, even with a few ups and downs. The time has come to lay bare the low point, by way of salutary warning to others. Smart people should not even need this admonition, as taking a guided tour anywhere is universally acknowledged in my experience by canny types to be very problematic. We have taken quite few cruises at this point, because they make travel convenient in a way that schlepping from hotel to hotel cannot be. But also, candidly, because it is a good deal for us. I am pretty sun-sensitive, and even in hotel rooms with fabulous views, after a day going around, I immediately come in an pull all the shades and turn on indirect lighting. Mutatis mutandis, the result of this predilection is that on cruises we don't mind interior cabins, because I like it dark anyways when I come in. If you are willing to have an interior "stateroom" (very funny word given the reality) cruises become really a very worthy bargain, especially if, like the Costa Romantica, there is very good food. When it comes to space the space that really matters to me is getting a Business Class seat on the plane. Fortunately we had the miles to get them, though in terms of what we had to save for those miles over time they were costly. Simply put, I would never even considered going that far without them. An interior cabin on a ship I can deal with quite well, even happily given my light sensitivity. Coach seats to Asia would have been hell.
But, wouldn't you know, reality conspired to interject a bit of hell involving cramped coach-like seats into this trip anyways. But not on a plane, rather on a bus. And here begins the tale. You see the Costa cruise had one perplexing port. The Halong Bay stop was conceivably considered a stop for Hanoi. I wish now that I would have just considered it a stop for Halong Bay which was a great highlight. We should have just spent the day taking little boats around the nooks of Halong Bay. Seeing it from the cruise ship was so incredible, that getting even closer in a small boat would only have heightened it. But this was our first stop in Vietnam, and I was still laboring under illusions of what Vietnam was like.
The saving grace of the day is related to the great joy of the trip generally. That is that our dear friends Robert and Alex came on the trip with us. We had so much fun sharing the trip with them generally. And being able to make fun of the day in Hanoi as it progressed, as Robert and I used to make fun of life generally in highschool when we were kids, made it more bearable. But it was still something to bear.
The day started off nicely enough. Instead of being loaded on the usual cruises ship tenders, which usually are annoying at best, we were escorted to very charming Vietnamese- style boats with comfortable seating. We went across part of Halong Bay, with the gorgeous rocks in the distance, and came to the spot we would pick up the bus.
America greeted us on the bus. There were very few Americans on our cruise, mostly Italians and Spanish, which means a number of handsome guys which was pleasant. But for our day tour, they had segregated people. We were on the the American bus, it was immediately apparent. As we made our to the back of the bus, I first got to hear the distaff chortle that was to define the day for me. A group of very nice people from Boston had one cranky member, named Terry. I ended up seated right in front of her. Well, the cramped coach-like seats paled in comparison to the running commentary of this lady for the the 3- and- a- half hour drive to Hanoi. Terry helpfully explained to her friends over and over that thanks to the trip they had taken to Portugal a few years ago, that she had a central insight about poor people generally in the world. She detailed how she had seen a beggar in Lisbon move from his begging- spot and later get into a Mercedes. This experience had convinced her that basically poor people in the world she encountered all "had more money than I have." This enabled her sense of righteousness in judging poor people, which she did for the whole long drive to Hanoi. I know there are many more horrible things in the world than sitting in a very well air-conditioned bus with little tassles and balls dangling in front of the windows listening to Terry comment while grim poverty passed before us. But at that moment I could barely think of one, which I know is silly. Yet I hope I'll be forgiven it, when one considers that Terry had endless random judgments about poor people going about their daily lives and not dressing the way she liked. Hell. If I have any virtue it must be related to the fact that I have decided not to judge, as matter of principle, most of the people I encounter in the world. To bump into someone who has made the completely opposite choice was really depressing.
But the day got worse. The drive took a bit longer than expected, so when we arrived in Hanoi, everyone was really, really ready for lunch which was the first stop. We came to a very fine restaurant, which I liked in a lot of ways, called I believe Red Recas. It had a French Colonial look to it in some ways, and I wish I had gone there under different circumstances. But our circumstances were to be that of arriving with about 6 other huge buses which disgorged about two hundred really hungry oldsters, me included, for what turned out, to my complete horror to be a buffet. [!] Actually there were several buffets, and the food was very good, probably the best I had in Vietnam. I had a beef dish cooked with a very excellent spice that I had never tasted before, maybe it was a type of fruit mixed in. A seafood soup with noodles had a really heavenly broth. I usually don't even like seafood soups much at all. But the scene to get the food was utter pandemonium and hell. As they say, you can't "unsee" certain things. And the experience of watching all these well- heeled Americans push and shove was just unbelievable. I felt so stupid for coming on this escapade at that point. I usually consider myself someone who thinks about ten steps ahead in life when I do anything. Vietnam scattered my caution somehow. But I still remember the food fondly.
Next stop. Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum. Just what I always wanted to see. There may be a more ugly monument in the world somewhere, but I have not seen them. Somehow they found a stone that is the color of that dreadful darkness that comes to human skin in fatal illness, and made a monument with it. The ugliness of the thing in person is barely conveyed by pictures, for that look of illness is barely appreciable. But the vexing style of the thing, which somehow makes the worst Soviet productions look light and graceful, can be appreciated in any photo. Thank God the next stop had some redeeming moments. Because with Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum grim memories of my childhood seeing war horrors from Vietnam were being to fill my throat like vomit churning up from the gut. The sickening color of the monuments stone, which is truly special in the worst way, made me want to hurl.
The Temple of Literature was truly a great contrast. It was the only really fine thing about the day. It was an ancient University, with beautiful gardens and shrines. Further, it has, without hyperbole, the most touching monument to the human intellectual life I have ever seen. It was a saving moment in a terrible day to see it. Under beautiful roofs the many, many Doctors' Stellae are preserved. These are tremendously charming and huge monuments to scholarly achievements of the past. Each stella, really a huge slab, is mounted on a giant turtle's back. The scene of all of them together as testimony to human intelligence was truly inspiring.
But that good feeling soon vanished when our bus disappeared. You would think the one good thing about a guided tour, over trying to get around in taxis, is that the bus would be there for you. Not so apparently. Our little group ran from one side to another trying to find the bus in a frenzy. In the past, I reflect, such scenes would have produced pounding headaches. I think it is the fact that over the last ten years I have habit of drinking large amounts of green tea that has somehow cleared my head sufficiently that that does not happen.
Good thing, for I needed every bit of clarity to handle the next hellish moment. Because the ASEAN Conference was going on, traffic was apparently restricted near a special lake in the center of the city our next stop. The result was that our guide, making to my mind a very foolish decision, decided to bring us there on foot from a remote location. Isn't this precisely what you supposed to be avoiding by riding around in a bus?? I can't even bring myself to describe the fright I felt as this idiot tried to get our group across crowded streets with swarms of motorcycles who obey not one traffic rule. I should put this out of my mind. Can you imagine the health care you would have encountered if you got hit in a place like this?? But like lemmings all these people crossed the street. I refused to let my husband cross the worst the streets to see the lake up close.
Then three and a half hours back in the bus. It was an eternity. Fortunately Terry had mostly shut-up by then due to exhaustion. The curious moment came on the half-way stop which we had made similarly on the way to Hanoi. It was a tourist trap with lots of crap for sale and food you could purchase. But the very amusing thing is that you could also purchase truly giant sculptures to have shipped home. I walked to the rear to see a sort of quarry & sculpture area where they produced these incredibly substantial objet du arte. At night it made an even funnier impression. It was instructive to see the abstract sculptures available, all rigidly resolving in to reassuring and unthreatening curves vaguely mother-and-child looking. Somewhere in the suburbs of Dallas, or Seattle, there is someone with this in there yard. Amazing.
But it all finally ended. I was so happy to see that charming Vietnamese boat that took us back to the ship. But wouldn't you know, it was Terry who delivered the final awful summary of the day. I chatted the Boston group up a bit, as we floted back to the ship, because I was really perplexed why people such as these would even come to Vietnam. I could not have expected Terry response. "People think you come on vacation to have a good time. That's for people who don't travel very much. No, it's hard work. I consider it work." Well, I am glad I don't share Terry's bizarre assessment of life and other people and of of vacations. On the whole I enjoyed our Asian trip quite a lot. Except for that day. It may be that there are people, even relatively rich people like Terry for whom life is nothing but a chore, and they communicate this by the rigidity and superficiality of their world-view. And it makes you wonder why they even come on vacation. Funnily enough the next day I ran into one of the group's members and his wife at the buffet. They were excellent people and had their own humorous take on the day. But I also sort of discerned from that conversation that there travel group was from a local Catholic parish in Boston. It all made a weird sort of sense then, for better and for worse.
But in general, the only lesson from the day that can sanely be drawn is :
DON'T. And we never will again.
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