… and this circle closes

And we return to Ho Chi Minh City, the old Saigon, where our trip through the Indochinese Peninsula started two months ago. And we take stock and we feel happy: two months, eight weeks, 60 days; three neighbouring countries but very different; many kilometres by plane, bus, train, boat, bicycle, motorbike; lots of people, good people, bad people, intermediate people, but mainly good people; different cultures, many more than countries; many books read, may hours together, many conversations and many silences; many museums, buildings, ruins; many food stalls and many culinary experiments and a record of two months without the slightest stomach pain that Matthew broke in week five; many juices and even more beer; sun, rain and fog and, independently of the sun, rain and fog, lots and lots of heat; a crazy traffic that we have survived unscratched; two words in Cambodian, two in Laotian, and four in Vietnamese and no guarantee that when we say them we will make ourselves understood….
And now, on our way to New Haven, to a different world, to meet our new family member, Tomas Galán Lara, and to enjoy some days with the family. And then to start a new circle, this time in Lima: and Spanish classes, and Incan ruins, and enormous mountains, and more hours travelling, and more countries and more cultures… and many more stories to tell!

Explorando Hoian

El hecho de que consiguiera convencer a Matthew para que pusiera su vida en mis manos y explorar la zona de Hoian en motocicleta significa que, o bien no se sentía demasiado seguro con los conductores locales o confía en mi ciegamente…. ¡Quizá demasiado, debió estar pensando durante nuestra excursión a My Son! My Son es la antigua capital del Reino de Champa y arqueológicamente el primo pequeño de las ruinas de Angkor que visitamos en Camboya, pero con una situación fantástica en la selva tropical y las montañas. Además de My Son, Hoian es un pueblo muy atractivo, con su mezcal de estilo chino antiguo y colonial, sus fachadas amarillas, su playa en el Mar del Sur de China, su cantidad de sastres que cortan y cosen cualquier diseño que se te ocurra (en el supuesto que cuentes con la imaginación, dinero y estamina que a nosotros nos falto), su excelente pescado, que aprendimos a cocinar pero que seguramente no conseguiremos reproducir, su pequeño malecón con zumo barato de caña de azúcar y su, incluso, más barata cerveza a 20 céntimos el vaso… y su gente encantadora. ¡En total, no es un mal sitio para ver pasar los días como hicimos!

Exploring Hoian

The fact that I managed to convince Matthew to put his life in my hands to explore the Hoian area by motorbike means that either he did not feel very safe with the local drivers or that he trust me blindly… maybe a bit too much as he may have been thinking during our excursion to My Son! My Son is the old capital of the Champa Kingdom and archeologically a very small cousin of the Angkor ruins that we visited in Cambodia, but in an amazing location in the tropical jungle and mountains. In addition to My Son, Hoian is a very attractive town, with its mixture of old Chinese and Colonial style, its yellow facades, its beach on the South China Sea, its many tailors that will cut and sew any design you can come up with (provided you have the imagination, time and stamina that we lacked), its amazing fish that we learnt to cook but surely will not be able to replicate, its little waterfront with cheap sugar cane juices and its even cheaper beer at 20 cents of dollar the glass… and its very warm people. Overall, not a bad place to linger around as we did!

Diarios de motocicleta – Hué-Hoian

¿Y qué si llevamos mochilas que son más grandes que nosotros? ¿Y qué si la distancia de Hué-Hoian son 160 Km.? ¿Y qué si hay unas cuantas montañas entre medias y las motocicletas tienen dificultades con las cuestas? ¿Y qué si podemos comunicarnos vagamente con nuestros guías y el azar nos separa en el camino? ¿Y qué si pasamos del sol a la niebla y de la niebla al sol abrasador? ¿Y qué si en cuenta kilómetros no funciona? ¿Y qué, y qué y qué….? Llegamos a Hoian sanos y salvos, si bien con un poco de dolor en el trasero…

Motorcycle diaries – Hué-Hoian

So what if we have backpacks bigger than us? So what if the distance Hué-Hoian is 160 Km? So what if there are a few mountains in between and the motorcycles have difficulties with the slopes? So what if we can vaguely communicate with our guides and we get separated on the way? So what if we go from sun to a thick fog and from fog to a scorching sun? So what if the speedometer does not work? So what, so what, so what…. We managed to arrive to Hoian in one piece, although with a slight bum pain...

Cerrando el círculo – Hué

Hanoi-Hué, cerca de 1,000 Km. de trayecto en tren, unas 11 horas en coche-cama que nos llevaron al centro de Vietnam, a la ciudad que fue capital de Vietnam durante la dinastía Nguyen, hasta 1945. Hué fue bombardeada, abandonada por el régimen comunista de Hanoi por representar la extravagancia de su monarquía, recuperada como gancho turístico y ahora patrimonio de la humanidad.
Visitando la ciudad conocimos a Lac Thanh, un mesero sordomudo y Muoi, literalmente “Diez”, el décimo hijo de una familia de la zona (¡supongo que cuando tienes diez hijos, se te acaba la imaginación!). Los gestos del Sr. Lac y el inglés rudimentario de Muoi, nos sirvieron de guías perfectas para visitar los panteones, murallas, edificios, templos, el río Perfumado y los campos de arroz que inundan la zona.
Quizá la moto no es un mal medio de transporte para ayudarnos a cerrar el círculo…

Closing the circle – Hué

Hanoi-Hué, nearly 1,000 Km of distance by train, around 11 hours in sleeping carriage, that brought us to the centre of Vietnam to what once was the capital of Vietnam during the Nguyen dynasty, until 1945. Hué was heavily bombed, abandoned by the communist regime of Hanoi for representing the extravagance of the monarchy, recovered later as a tourism attraction and now world heritage site.
Visiting the city we met Lac Thanh, a deaf-mute restaurant owner, and Muoi, meaning literally “Ten”, the tenth child of a family of the area (I imagine that when you have ten children you may be a bit short of imagination for names!). The hand signs of Mr. Lac and the rudimentary English of Muoi were perfect guides to the pantheons, city walls, buildings, temples, Perfume River, and rice fields that flood the area.
Maybe motorbike is not a bad mean of transport to help us closing the circle after all….