A Whirlwind Week

At the sand dunes for sunrise in Mui Ne

It has only been about one week since I last wrote, but it's been an action-packed week. After my last entry, I spent another night in Dalat, and went on my canyoning tour. With the company of a Dutch couple, we set off for a waterfall park area. I had brought the wrong kind of shoes and had to switch shoes with the guide, ending up with oversized sneakers, falling apart at the seams. Great start. At first, I was hesitant at the safety factor; they first guided us to a practice wall where we strapped ourselves into our harnesses, attached a rope, and learned to control our own descent. Having control of my own rope wasn't favourable, but I went with it. After the first two abseils, I felt pretty good. We had descended down rockfaces, dropping into water at the bottom, and swimming to land. We also did a couple rockslides and one cliff jump after lunch. Our third descent was straight through a waterfall descending 45 metres, and five metres from the bottom, you had to let go of your rope and jump down into the water below. Our guide told us that people often slip and fall on this one, so we needed to learn how to stand back up. As I started my descent, I felt good about my grip, and figured it probably wouldn't be that hard. When I got into the main section of the waterfall however, it was a very different story. The force of the waterfall was unimaginably strong and it pummeled down over my entire body, making it increasingly harder to keep my feet against the wall. I ended up slipping three times, each time getting pushed under the force of the water, soaking my eyes and filling up my mouth. Each time, I had to take a second and tell myself that I could do this, I would not be letting go of the rope or giving up. I would see it through to the end. Finally, after asking the guide fifteen times if I was okay to let go, he gave me the go-ahead and I plunged into the water below. Shaking from adrenaline after I got to shore, it was of little surprise that I whimped out on the last abseil. Still, all in all, a great day, and something that I might have never thought to try in any other place. Before exploring the town, I headed to the tour agency to pick something up I had left on the bus, and ended up having a long talk with a tour guide about his beautiful, mysterious country. I had wanted to ask someone about what it was like to live in a communist country, but hadn't yet met the right person. He explained to me that while Vietnam is technically titled communist, it is actually a very capitalist way of life. He said they have an expression: If you are rich, you are alive, if you are poor, you are dead. He explained that while they pay the government, they still have to pay for all education and healthcare. I also asked about their sentiments towards Americans. He told me how his grandfather despised Americans, but his generation took a different position. While they could forgive, they would never forget. I was so thankful that this man had been so willing to give me some insight into his country and couldn't believe that one simple conversation had taught me so much. That night, I walked to the market to grab some street food for dinner. As I eyed some chicken porridge, a Vietnamese man who spoke English saw my struggle to order, and immediately jumped in to help me out. It turns out he was actually a Canadian from Vancouver, and was just visiting Vietnam on holiday. We chatted about home and about my next destination, and then said our goodbyes. After briefly befriending a local painter ( an art student who sold her dad's paintings each night at the market), I headed back and prepared myself for my morning journey to Mui Ne.

Sand Dunes in Mui Ne

 I arrived in Mui Ne and checked into a gorgeous hostel with a beautiful pool by the beach. After wandering the town to check out the shops, I booked a sunrise tour to the sand dunes the following morning, and spent the rest of the day laying by the

View of a fishing village outside Mui Ne

rock formations along a river near Mui Ne

pool. Every time I get to bask in luxury, I think about how I am the luckiest person in the world to get to leave behind the routine of home and work to simply indulge for five months. The next day I was up first thing at four to board a jeep for the sand dunes. The dunes are simply rippling mountains of sand overlooking the ocean on one side, and a lake on the other. As the sun rises, you see the complexion of every colour in the sky, and are then given the chance to ride down the dunes on a sheet of plastic. After visiting the red sand dunes, a fishing village, and a river surrounded with towerung rock formations, we headed back to town, and I headed straight back to the pool, resting up before my bus ride to Ho Chi Minh City.

A copy of the famous image inside the War Museum

 From what I'd heard, I'd expected a fair amount from Saigon (renamed Ho Chi Minh after the war). People had continually said they liked it more than Hanoi, and I'd really enjoyed Hanoi. After arriving at my hostel, I immediately met some German guys, and joined them for dinner and drinks on the main backpacker road, Bui Vien. Not surprisingly, I ran into the British guys who'd also arrived that evening. The next morning at breakfast, I quickly began chatting with a British girl, Annie, and an American, Chris. We decided to spend the day together, but since they'd already been to the war museum, I broke off and planned to join up with them for dinner. After wandering the streets for nearly an hour in the scorching heat, I finally found it. The war museum was one of the most overwhelming educational experiences I've ever had. Between the images of massacres of women and children, to photos of agent orange victims, to the prisons showing methods of torture, by the end of it, you just want to sit down, breaths, and take a minute to absorb everything you just saw. All I'd known of the war before this was the basic statistics and facts. Now, I've been exposed to a side of the war history books breeze over, and it is a beyond depressing reality.

Crawling through the Cu Chi tunnels used by the Viet Cong

 I wasn't up for much more sightseeing afterwards, so I checked out a market and headed back to get ready for some local food with Annie and Chris, and some people from our hostel. Well, I'm not sure if it was the street alley food or not, but I spent the next full day in bed with a fever and a rough stomach.
 On my last day in Saigon, I decided to visit the tunnels; 200 kms of underground routes built by the Vietkong to hide from American soldiers. I originally planned to go to the non-touristy tunnels with the Brits, but plans fell through, and I opted for a tour to the frequently visited ones. In the end, that was one of the best decisions I ever made...
 Later that night, I heard from one of the Brits who wanted to go for a drink and just have a chill night chatting. We met up and he told me how they had met a Brit in their hostel and he had gone with them to the tunnels. Well, long story short, the guy was in the tunnels, and something went terribly wrong - most likely there was a snake or a scorpion involved - and the traveler died almost instantly in the tunnel. The Brits spent most of their day dealing with the aftermath and taking all the steps to help out the guy's family back home. When I first heard the story, I was shocked, and thought about all the little decisions that were made for that scenario to play out exactly as it did. What if they hadn't told him their plans? What if they'd gone the day before like originally planned? What if I'd gone with them? It's hard to really grasp how quickly life can slip through your fingers until something like that happens. After hearing about that tragedy, I was more than okay with moving on to my next destination, Cambodia.
 I planned out a route in Cambodia that lets me see the main attractions in nine days. I'm starting in the South, Sihanoukville, and making my way to Pnom Penh, and Siam Reap. Sihanoukville has been a cluster of lazy beach days, and tomorrow I'm hoping to go on a diving trip to the island Koh Rong. While the beach here is great and there's a vibe similar to that of the Thai islands. The only difference is the amount of child vendors approaching you on the beach which at times can be extremely depressing. It was actually worse in Saigon because the children were often drugged. Here at least the kids sometimes get to act like kids. I also conveniently met some Norwegian backpackers on my bus down, and have been splitting a room with them for a couple days. Naturally, the Brits arrived shortly after me, meaning that Sihanoukville will probably be filled with memorable nights out. I only have a week until I'm off to Indonesia to meet up with Saskia, which means I'm coming close to the final legs of my journey.
 Looking back to my first entry, I think I've come a long way. When I left for Asia, I wrote about feeling as if the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but the longer I'm here, I realize that that weight is not as heavy as it seems, and there are always people there willing to help you with the load. I've also been humbled by some of the things I've seen and experienced. Life is completely what you make of it, and at the end of the day, if you're doing something you love, the obvious path might not be the right one. This trip has also enhanced my travel bug, and definitely not relieved the itch to see the world. I've already started thinking about my next couple trips: I'm thinking a yoga course and meditation in India and my divemaster in Central America. Saying this of course, I should probably wrap up this trip first and avoid getting ahead of myself.