Vietnam: Day 2-Present, Part IV: Ba Na Mountain

After Adam left, I trudged through the next few days with little enthusiasm for traveling on my own. I made a valiant attempt at exploring a new place solo when I made the journey to Ba Na Mountain, which is outside of Danang.

I had intended to stay in Danang for an evening in order to take some time to decide what to do next. I had read about several options in my guidebook. However, when I arrived in Danang and located my chosen hotel, I discovered that it was closed and under-construction. At the very same moment, a motorbike taxi driver had spotted me and quickly pulled up beside me. “Motorbike? Where are you going?” Hmmmm, I thought to myself, Where am I going? I took the two events combined as a sign that I wasn’t meant to stay in Danang for the evening. And, I suddenly heard myself blurt out, “Ba Na Mountain.”

My experience at Ba Na Mountain was definitely an adventure, but more appropriately classified as a misadventure. It is an old French Hill Station at 1485m above sea level and was used by the French as an escape from the summer heat. The Lonely Planet guidebook says, “Rain usually falls in the section between 700m and 1200m above sea level, but around the hill station itself, the sky is usually clear, the view is spectacular, and the air is fresh and cool.” There is no mention of there being an off-season and, unbeknownst to me, that’s exactly what time of year it was. I would discover that during the off-season, it is often rainy and consumed in dense fog, especially at the top around the hill station itself.

From the base of the mountain, the climb up is so steep and windy that it requires the hiring of a local, who has the skills and a high-powered motorbike, to complete the journey to the hill station. Initially, I thought that I had chosen well. As we ascended, I could see more and more into the valley below and the view was spectacular. But the higher we got, the colder and foggier it got and the less I could see. By the time we arrived at the only hotel, I could barely see five feet in front of me. In addition, I was informed (through mime since no one spoke English) that I was the one and only guest. I pondered the situation. I had chosen poorly.

I was determined to be just as content traveling solo as I was with Adam. I considered what I would’ve done if someone else were with me and I knew that I had to embrace the entire experience by staying for at least one evening. I arranged for the driver to pick me up the next morning at 8am and braced myself for a long, cold, damp evening of being with…me.

I was assigned a room, where I quickly put on a few more layers before heading out to explore. There were stone walkways and staircases surrounding the area, which combined with the approaching nightfall, fog and quiet, created a pretty eerie atmosphere. The first thing I came upon was a monkey in a cage. Well, at least I’m not the only guest, I thought. I continued down a staircase and ended up in a large walled-in open area. In the center sat a stone Buddha, 24-meters high and, even though it was engulfed by fog, it still impressed upon me feelings of awe and wonder. It was amazingly peaceful and I couldn’t help but to feel like I was in some kind of magical, fairytale land. I continued on down more stone staircases and walkways that led through the forest and around the mountaintop until I was too scared to go any further. At which point, I decided to head back to the hotel.

Once I was back to the safety of my room, I assured myself that I had made the most of the experience; I had done my best and now it was time to buckle-down until morning. It was probably around 4pm when I crawled beneath the covers, fully-clothed, with You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers. I was prepared to read until it was a reasonable enough time to go to sleep.

Three hours and a hundred or so pages later, there was a knock at my door. It was the old man from reception. He was smiling and excited. He gestured for me to follow him. I quickly put on my shoes and he led me to another room. With a wide grin, he pointed at a German couple that was being shown the room, “Frien,” he said. He was so happy for me that I couldn’t help but to smile and I cannot deny that I did feel a bit of relief at the sight of them.

We introduced ourselves and I went along with them as they were being shown the more expensive rooms available. They were on a prepaid tour and it was those rooms which were included. We walked to another building that was across the courtyard. When we initially saw the room, it appeared as though it was so clean that the floors and staircases gleamed. But as we stepped into it, we realized that it was actually covered in a centimeter of water. The air was so filled with moisture that a layer of condensation had formed, covering every surface. Neither the German couple nor I let on that the accommodations were a bit under par. Suffice it to say, they elected to stay in the building where my room was located.

Later that evening, we laughed together at the absurdity of the entire situation. The Vietnamese had so proudly taken us to the "more expensive" building and had been quite surprised that the couple didn’t choose to stay there. We chatted through the evening, swapping travel stories. They had booked the trip in Germany as a full tour and Ba Na Mountain was part of the itinerary. They just assumed that since they only had a few short weeks, that a professional, Vietnamese tour company would be their best bet as far as making the most of their trip and getting to the best places, easily. It was a fair assumption, but then again, welcome to Vietnam.

Then it was my turn and the woman asked me how I had come to Ba Na Mountain. I told her that I had read about it in my guidebook and, in my experience, hill stations are usually quite pleasant and beautiful. She asked me how I had gotten to the top, and I told her that I had taken a motorbike. A look of astonishment came over her face as she proceeded to express how brave she thought I was for coming on my own. How much of a difference is there between brave and stupid? I wondered.

The next morning, we said our goodbyes and wished each other happy and safe travels. I hopped on the back of my driver’s bike, glad that I had survived the night at Ba Na and looking forward to returning to Danang and civilization.

I guess not all coincidences are signs, but I’m gonna keep looking out for them anyway.

Vietnam: Day 2-Present, Part III: Adam

After my first couple of weeks in Hanoi, my friend, Adam, arrived from Vermont on November 9th. I was excited to see him, but definitely a bit nervous about us being travel companions. Adam was one of the first people I met when I moved to Vermont in 2005 (and one of the first people I told that I was leaving). Over the years, we had gotten to know each other fairly well and had had our good moments and our bad moments. Like most close friends, we knew each other well enough to know that sometimes we’d like to kill each other.

As soon as Adam arrived, we hit the ground running. The morning after his arrival, we were off to the Perfume Pagoda, which is a day trip from Hanoi. The morning after that, we were off to Ha Long Bay for 3 days and 2 nights. On the return boat trip from Ha Long Bay, we decided to head straight to Sa Pa on the night train that same evening. We spent 5 wonderful days in Sa Pa and then took the night train back to Hanoi. Upon our return, we headed for Jess’ place for a quick shower and to repack our bags prior to getting on a plane that afternoon to our final destination together, Hoi An.


With such a fast-paced, packed itinerary, I would have placed my bet on the ‘kill each other’ end of things. Instead, he had been a perfect travel partner for me. He was social and got along well with all the other travelers we met along the way. He wanted to experience as much as possible in 2 weeks, which kept me motivated and saying yes! Yes, to the Thy wedding party we were invited to in Sa Pa. Yes, to renting motorbikes and driving through the countryside. Yes, to staying out too late and drinking too much. Oh yes, to designing my very own custom fit leather boots in Hoi An!




Along with all of the guesthouses, buses, boats, trains, planes, motorbikes and pushbikes, our time together was filled with laughter, good food, good conversation and adventure. His visit meant a lot to me. Even though, at that time, I had only been away for a mere two months, I was missing Vermont and my friends. I was still questioning myself and hadn’t yet made new friends. His mere presence provided me with the connection that I needed between my former life in Vermont and my future life in Vietnam. In the end, I was reminded that the other side of the world really isn’t so far away after all.

Vietnam: Day 2-Present, Part II: Hanoi

It rained for eleven days straight when I initially arrived in Hanoi on October 29th. It was the worst rain in 35 years, flooding the entire city and killing nearly 100 people. The morning after I arrived, my friend, Jessica, and I were trapped in her apartment due to her alley being filled with water. I had come, not only to visit her, but also to decide if it was the city in which I wanted to live. To my amazement and with little sound reasoning on my part, it was.

I immediately liked Hanoi much more than Saigon. It’s still a big city, but it’s held onto much of its character and charm of days past, especially in the Old Quarter, where the narrow streets conceal a network of alleys teeming with life hidden from the thruway traveler. Most streets are named after what goods can be found on them. There’s Cha Ca Street if you’re in the mood for roasted fish; Hang Ruoi for clam worms and; Lo Su if you’re in need of a coffin.

All over the city, women carry their fruit, vegetables, or wares for sale, hanging from a stick balanced over one shoulder, while the men wait at every corner, sitting on their motorbikes for a fare. There are lakes and parks scattered about, which is one of my non-negotiables for any city in which I’m going to live. As an avid runner and former Vermont resident, being able to see and move uninhibited through a small corner of the world is important to me (even if that corner is less than a mile in circumference).


After a few days of catching up with Jess, she was off on holiday to Phuc Quoc Island and I was solo again for the first time since Day 1. I decided to stay at the Aussie-run Hanoi Backpackers Hostel because the idea of exploring a rainy, unfamiliar city on my own wasn’t very appealing. Within a few days, I met a number of other solo travelers to share meals and explore a bit. We navigated the bus system, walked for hours, visited museums, checked out the traditional water puppets show, and waited (often with a beer in hand) for the rain to stop. I was unimpressed with the dreary weather and, after living among transients for over a week, I was exhausted as well.

Ten years ago, I did the backpacker-thing through Europe. It can be an alluring way to travel, especially if you’re on a budget. But at this point in my life and in my travels, moving from place to place in a matter of days, living out of a backpack filled with smelly, worn-out clothes, and having the same conversations over and over again with every person you meet, no longer appeals to me. I do believe in it, I just no longer want to do it.

So, after a couple of weeks of witnessing the constant flux of people on the move, I decided to remain. It wasn’t because I loved it. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I liked it. It wasn’t because of a job (I didn’t have one yet). The truth is I couldn’t be bothered with choosing and moving to somewhere else. I figured that I could do a year anywhere and Hanoi was just as good of a place as the next.

Five months later, as I sit here writing this, it’s a beautiful, sunny, afternoon. A warm breeze is blowing through my wide-open, balcony door and French-style windows. I can hear birds chirping, people moving about below and horns honking in the distance. It is both peaceful and vibrant all at once. And, as I reflect on my life here, I realize that I can finally say I’m happy.

I wish...

I’m not a fan of New Year’s Eve. Don’t get me wrong. I love sipping champagne or a few “R & Rs” while getting dolled up with my girlfriends. And, I do embrace the gathering of friends and the drinking of copious amounts of alcohol. I don’t mind that all the restaurants and bars are overcrowded and over-priced (I avoid them anyway). What I dislike about New Year’s Eve is that it is New Year’s Eve. It’s a holiday that’s inherent existence obligates you to take an inventory of your life as it stands at the end of another year gone by and on the eve of a new one. (Not to mention that it always sneaks up on me). But this year, I did something different.

On the eve of 2009, the crowds converged around Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake, bringing traffic to a near standstill and creating a carnival-like atmosphere. Some toted bunches of brightly colored balloons, others sold incense and other offerings to leave at the pagoda’s alter, but most were there simply to take part in the celebration.


My friends and I arrived at the fringe of the festivities by taxi, and we quickly realized that we’d have to go by foot to get through the crowded streets. As we weaved single-file in, out, and around the idling motorbikes going nowhere, we took in the sight of dozens of brightly lit lanterns drifting gracefully upward above the chaos below. It was beautiful, and in that moment, amid the exhaust fumes and honking horns, I knew that no New Year’s resolution was going to bring me closer to what I wanted for 2009.


I set my sights on finding a lantern of my own. Like a Buddhist prayer sent into the wind, I was determined to send my wish out into the world. Among thousands of people, it was a seemingly impossible mission like searching for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow except nothing has ever felt more possible. At the stroke of midnight, I made my wish and watched it float away into the night sky. I didn’t revisit regrets or make any half-hearted pledges for the coming year. Instead, I was reminded of a different time. For that evening, I was filled with hope and faith and I believed again in the childish magic of wishing upon a star.

Vietnam: Day 2-Present, Part I

Since getting through my first day, my experience in Vietnam has been a whirlwind. On Day 2, I woke at 5am. By 7am, I was sitting at a local Pho shop drinking my morning coffee when a Dutch traveler sat down beside me. He was headed to the Mekong Delta in 15 minutes. Would I like to come? I boarded the bus at 7:30am.

The road beyond the Mekong has led me all over the country—from the beaches, fishing villages and floating markets in the south to the mountains and hill tribes in the north.

I have trekked through terraced rice paddies and bamboo forests. I have seen the sunset over Ha Long Bay, explored the old French hill station at the top of Ba Na mountain, and navigated the tailor heaven (or hell, depending on how you look at it) of Hoi An. I have learned to ride a motorbike (even during the Hanoi rush hour traffic!). I’ve found a house and have begun my teaching job at the International Language Academy (ILA).





Things have fallen into place. And, although the experience has been wonderful in so many ways, I still wonder what part it will play and where this road will lead. I wonder does this change anything. Is this going to help me find what I’m looking for? I can’t help but to question myself; to question whether or not it really makes a difference what I do or where I go. Wasn’t it Pink Floyd who said, wherever you go, there you are?

In moments like these, I always think of my life in Vermont. I think about what I would be doing if I were there now. Maybe I’d be making dinner with Erin or out running with Julie; watching a movie with Suz or dealing with the latest crisis at work. I certainly do miss my friends and so many other aspects of my life there, but then I remind myself that it was time for me to move on. I was no longer happy and I needed to do something about it. I don’t love or miss my friends any less and, thankfully, I know that they’ll always be there. I have made a number of new friends and somehow, all along the way, I have been fortunate enough to catch up with quite a few old ones as well…

Vietnam: Day 1

Three and a half months ago, I had my tarot read. In tarot, the first card chosen is the most important because it is what the entire reading is based upon. My first card was an illustration of a woman leaping from a cliff. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Three days from then, I would be boarding a plane to Vietnam. I had given up my job, apartment, and the majority of my clothes and shoes. I gave up my Bongos! More importantly, I had made the decision to leave a community filled with close friends and many memories—a place that had become ‘home’ to me for the first time in my life. I was taking a leap of faith and trusting that the universe would provide me with everything I needed.

On September 18^th, I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, tired, jetlagged and definitely a little lost. I spent my first day searching for a cheap hotel that would be clean and comfortable for the duration of my CELTA (Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults) course. The heat was oppressive, the streets impassable and the sidewalks weren’t meant for walking. In Vietnam, the sidewalks are for cooking, eating, peddling and motorbike parking. Walk at your own risk! By late afternoon and after having little success, I was feeling frustrated. I decided to buy a cell phone. I needed to hear a familiar voice and was determined to give my friend, Jessica, a call.

I’ve known Jess since 2001. We served in AmeriCorps*NCCC together and had stayed in touch throughout the years. It was a coincidence that we were both in Vietnam. In March, I received an excited phone call from her that went something like this:

Me: “Hello?”

Jessica: “Guess what?! Guess what?!”

Me: “Umm…I don’t know…You’re finally going to Chile?!”

Jessica: “No,” she said, “Vietnam!”

Me: “Me too!”

Six months later, we shared in that excitement and disbelief again on my first day in Vietnam. Sure, she was in Hanoi and I was in HCMC, but close enough. At least she was in the same country as me. Hell, she was on the same continent! I only spoke with her briefly that day, but that was all I needed to make it through Day 1—to hear a voice of a longtime friend who wasn’t so far away.

Thank you, Jess (and the Universe).

Bye, Bye B-Town

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Yes, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, that was God telling me everything's gonna be alright








Well, so long good friends, when will we meet again?
I said so long good friends, when will we meet again?
Well, I don't know, I don't know, but I guess I'll see you then








Well, I'm gonna pack my old guitar, move on down the road
Where I go I don't know, but I guess I gots to go

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
That was God telling me everything, everything's gonna be alright.

Rainbow, Jack Johnson