Bo-Bo-Bo Li-Li-Li Via-Via-Via

So I have finally finished volunteering at my school and enjoyed several weeks of visits from Washingtonians. First my mom for five days and then Abbie and Todd for two weeks. With friends in town and trying to tie up loose ends in La Paz I haven´t had much time to be in front of a computer. So here is a quick and dirty account of what has been going on here...

My mom arrived on an early morning flight on friday, my last day volunteering at the school. She had a bit of srerocha (altitude sickness) after taking a cold shower at her hotel (because she thought the C on the faucet meant Cold and not Caliente). But a little coca tea quickly got her back on her feet and I took her with me down to Obrajes, th suburb where my school is. When we got there all the kids were anxiously waiting for my mom´s arrival. They had been practicing their dialogues in English so they could repeatledly ask her, ´´where are you from, how old are you (Oops! That should have been taught later!), or what is your name??´´ They also had made cards with some pretty great english phrases straight from the songs we had taught them in class.

After about 30 minutes of class it was cut short by a special recess so that all the teachers could assemble in the kitchen for empanadas and coffee and a going away ceremony that was also an over the top welcome for my mom. It was really sweet and the music teacher played the guitar while every one sang quaka songs. After that the prinicapl and pastor made some over the top speeches about how grateful they were. It was the typical Bolivian tendency toward flashy displays of gratitude that I love. Meanwhile the kids ran crazy in the school yard for an hour, totally unsupervised escept for a single security guard.

We took my mom to Copacabana on lake Titicaca and Tihuanacu where there are some pretty awesome pre-Incan ruins. We spent the rest of the time showing her around La Paz, shopping, and feeding her all our favorite Bolivian food.


She flew out on wednesday morning and we spent the morning running errands with our friend Mara who we had decided to go trekking with. In the afternoon we had tickets to the Bolivia-Argentina world cup qualifier. Bolivia is definitely the underdog but Argentina couldn{t handle the altitude. It was an awesome game because the crowd was going crazy the whole time. Bolivia really hammered Argentina, 6-1. They were constantly hammering shots at the goal and Argentina was clearly exhausted from the altitude. The crowd was going crazy, chanting things like, ¨Of you don´t jump your an Argentinian¨ and ¨Bo-bo-bo li-li-li via-via-via, VIVA BOLIVI.¨ It was really fun to see so many people out supporting their team (and a few traitors with Argetninian jersies). Lucy and I had Bolivian flags painted on by a guy on the street who we later found out was not using face paint. We had burns running along our cheeks where the paint had been. Bolivian flag tattoos?

The next morning we left for El Choro, a three day trekking route that starts outside of lLa Paz at well over 4,000 meters. The trail then winds up and down slowly descending until you reach the tropical Yungas valley. It was absolutely gorgeous and went from barren rock and snow where we literally hiked through the clouds, to thick tropical trees and tons of bird and animal life along the trail by the third day. The route followed part of the Inca trail so there are still ancient rocks laid in a path from thousands of years ago. There were basic camping spots set up along the way and one of our friend lent us the necessary cooking supplies. Really it wasn{t tht different from cooking over the tiny burner in our hotel bathroom in La Paz but things defintely taste better after 8 hours of hiking.

We got back the day before Todd and Abbie were scheduled to arrive but actualy had more time than we planned because they got delayed for 24 hours at JFK! We amused ourselves by going to see the Cholitas Wrestling in El Alto (the working class city that has popped up outside of La Paz) to see some pretty hilarious fake wrestling put on by such classic characters as the ninja turtles and other absurd characters. Ridiculous.


Abbie and Todd finally got to La Paz the next day. Unfortunately we don{t know much about hostels in La Paz and ours smelt of turpentine (thought apparently they claim this is cleaning fluid). We quickly discovered that just about every hostel cleans with this stuff and the place we stayed the next night also smelled of noctious fumes.

We went abck to Copacaban with them but this time camped on Isla del Sol right in the middle of Lake Titicaca. It was gorgeous, but the Island of the sun proved to be not so sunny the next day and we had to walk back to catch the boat in the rain. We headed back to La Paz for a bike trip down the World´s Most Dangerous Road. It is the old road to Coroico that runs right along the route we trekked the week before. Part of it is paved but the second half is a rocky windy mess with steep drops and plenty of waterfalls making you and the road rather wet. The guides stopped us along the way to prep us for the next bit, tell us scary stories of all the people who had died on the road, but we had really great bikes so it wasn´t too bad. O{m sure my parents will be happy to know I am safe and did not fall off the bike and over a cliff.

Next we headed to Salar de Uyuni, a massive axpanse of salt surrounded by mineral lakes and incredible scenery made up of volcanoes and crazy rock formations. We spent fours days driving around and taking awesome pictures on the salar because the massive expanse of salt messes with your cameras perception abilities. I´ll send pictures soon, although they don´t quite compare but I feel they do a better job than me digging up every adjective for beatiful and amazing I can think of.

Lucy and I are spending an extra day in Uyuni, Todd, Abbie, and our friend Will headed back to La Paz last night. We are taking a night train to the Argentine border and from there are headed to Tucuamn to WWOOF for a week on an organic farm.

Last weeks of teaching

We always start lessons in my classroom with the questions, what is the weather and date today? We do a whole run through of the calendar month, year, pearing out the window to see if it is cloudy or sunny outside. Our newest vocabulary is the seasons and I began this by asking the kids what the seasons where in spanish and to tell me in spanish what the weather is like in the summer (the season it is here now). I was greated with blank stares... Okay, is it sunny in the summer, does it rain in the summer?? I asked holding up some picture cards as prompts. Raise yours hands for rainy! Raise your hands for snowy! I tried to see if the old democratic method would prompt more responses. Nope. A few confused hands, but it wasn´t really clicking. We could conclude the it was a tiny bit warmer in the summer, and one group even remembered that there is a bit of a rainy season in the summer, but we didn´t really get anywhere until we started talking about summer activities.Hands shot up left and right... Tomar helado! Vamos a la piscina! Jugar en el parque! Viajamos con mi familia! It´s not that the kids didn´t understand that we were talking about the seasons but in La Paz the weather does not really change with the seasons. In fact according to weather reports next week might have me writing up on the board, it is a cold and snowy summer day. About an hour later it will probably be sunny and hot. Layering has taken on a whole new meaning here.

Every morning we take a break in the teachers lounge for breakfast which consists of marjaqueta (a type of small baguette) and sarna (a type of roll). The drink changes every day but my favorites are api, a warm corn and sugar drink and te which is usually fuity and has a chunk of fresh bpeach, apple, or cranberry that has been boiled in the te which is then divied out and plunked into each mug. This is also the place where the director comes in and talks to us past the end of recess about how he is cutting the teachers pay and preventing the formations of unions. Other days he has show and tell and passes around pictures of himself shaking hands with the pope or give me a hard time for not attending a formal dinner for the seniors even though he failed to give me an invitation. I love the guy so much that I am writing a formal letter and going to speak to some of the higher ups in the church to see if I can get him relieved of his position. Basically they can´t fire me and I´m not methodist so I can say whatever I want, and I intend to. Not to bitch. I love Luz, my co-teacher, and in fact I am complaining mostly because I hate to see her biting her tongue because she needs the job to support her three kids.

The kids I work with are also great. I feel like a celebrity when I walk through the halls of swarming red sweatshirts. I have tiny bodies wrapping themselves around my legs or hiding in my white lab coat (as one preschooler amused herself the other day until I had to remove her to continue walking). Hello teacher! They all yell, instead of hola profesora, which is the standard greeting when your not the english teacher.

I am sad to be leaving La Paz but really excited to travel. I have been doing some on the weekends but things have been complicated slightly by a recent bought of salmonella. I love the food here, but it does not love my tummy and it seems like I keep suffering from complications related to the lack of potable water or someone´s failure to wash their hands. I had to go to the hospital to have a doctor figure out what was wrong with me and the doctor told me it is the season for salmonella. She made it sound like it was some sort of exciting fruit that could now be found in the market. I love summer, all the salmonella, and then the e.coli that comes into bloom in the fall! Wondeful!

Although there is no clean drinking water the city has hired herds of zebras to help people cross the street. People are paid to dress up in absurd zebra costumes and motion to people when the light changes. They also try to keep the cars from inching forward too much. The other day I saw a zebra kick a car in the bumper, apparently the mini buses weren´t taking him seriously. I can´t imagine why.

Getting to know La Paz

I have been teaching for two and a half weeks now. I am beginning to adjust to the city. Lucy and I have tested and located all our favorite coffee shops, and we are meeting a few people through couch surfing and other volunteers here with the methodist church.


There are a few things I can rely on these days...

- If I walk along El Prado after school lets out I will get hit by a water balloon chucked at me by a group of high school boys enjoying the pre-carnival frenzy that has overtaken the city.

- Most afternoons of the week there will be a traffic jam and the sound of gunshots that are really flare guns due to a massive protest by people who want jobs, better education, or perhaps a side of papas fritas free with their order of pollo at the local Copacabana chain. I´m not sure, I stopped paying attention.

-If I step outside and it is sunny and warm it will probably be hailing an hour later. If it is rainy and cold when I leave, it will definitely be sunny and hot an hour later. Locals like to complain that in La Paz you get all the seasons in a single day.
I have also learned to expect that my children, who range in ages from pre-k to third grade have been educated in an environment that demands very different expectations for discipline and order. This has taken some adjusting to, and the fact that I cannot fully communicate also adds to my frustrations. I am really lucky to have Luz as ,y teaching partner. She is very supportive and much more receptive to the teaching ideas I have than most teachers might be. We do alot of singing, which those of you who know me is not very enjoyable for those around me usually, but the kids don´t seem to mind. I spent all of last week teaching all the older kids a cheer about school supplies. Picture me waving my arms around and yelling,¨"small, yellow, square... NOTEBOOK!" I was a little horse by the end of the week. I am enjoying myself, but end each day exhausted and dreaming of the orginization of Two Rivers, my old school. My schedule and the orginization of the school can be frustratingly hectic and confusing at times.


I am also benefiting from my connections with the methodist church. Lucy and I need to extend our visa so we can travel after we are finished working. The school´s director assured us that he could have this arranged. Today Lucy and I were escorted by a police officer, in the puffy green coat that made his shoulders appear massive, and lace-up, black boots that go up to mid-shin to arrange for a one year work permit and ID. All in all he was pretty imposing leading us through the city and navigated through all the red tape at interpol. Three hours later the school´s lawyer had typed up a contract and the necessary paperwork and we had our applications in order. In ten days we should have a Bolivian ID good for a year, fingers crossed. This whole development came entirely out of the blue. 

One thing I cannot rely on is my accomodation at the hotel.  Our hotel reaches new levels of absurdity with each passing day. We are currently the only guests there. Our room has no hot water and is freezing which usually means I put off taking a shower a lot longer than I should. We have asked about hot water several times and have been told a variety of things - it takes a long time for the water to reach us because it is high up, if we wait just five more minutes it will start, and finally that someone was going to turn on the hot water... but the shower was still cold. Today however, we walked in to find several employees huddled in our bathrrom. When we came back there was a long black wire attached to nothing, and draped over our sink. There was also a chair in the center of the bathroom. When Lucy went down to ask about TP she was told they were installing a new shower... We´ll see how long that takes. This is just one of the many odd things going on at our hotel. (The entire lobby is currently lying in pieces that we have to step around to make it to the stairs because they are cleaning.)

We also do alot of cooking in our room on an ubsurdely small burner we bought in the black market (the area of la paz where everything from lawn care to cholita skirts and pirated dvds are on sale). We have a teeny pot and pan and were cooking on the floor until we singed the rug so the operation has been moved to the bathroom. We sit and eat the meals we´ve concocted in a little window box in our room. It looks out onto a staircase where we watch people walking by on their way to work or school. There are always a few regulars, a small girl who sings for money at about ten, the Andian woman selling sticks of gum in the morning, and the shoe shiners who sleep beneath our window every night. This is enough to remind me that even if my shower was cold, and I am wearing five layers for warmth at night, things really aren´t so bad.

La Paz

Colca Canyon took five days instead of the planned three because of a bout of Souroche and lessons on Peruvian and Argentinian Pisco Sours. The trek was beautiful and we saw a few Condors as well as a whole lot of Llamas, vicuna, and alpaca. The Canyon is the second deepest in the world and it starts out incredibly arrid and rocky and by the bottom we were surrounded by tropical fruits and tons of vegetation. There were avocado trees everywhere and also cactus fruit. I got some moderately uncumfortable pricks in my hands trying to harvest a few tuna (cactus fruit), and spent the next few hours of trekking picking them from my fingers. That and a bit of a sundburn were the only complaints I could make about the trek. Overall it was a great chance to stay in some of the small towns around the Canyon. The culture here is distinctly different from other parts of Peru. The woman all where brigh, ornately embroidered caps, skirts, and vests and the men are usually sporting a cowboy hats and ride around on horses. Overall it seemed like a Peruvian twist on an old wild west film.
We have been in La Paz for two weeks now. After our trek we returned to Arequipa and quickly got a bus to Puno and then over the border to La Paz. The border crossing was a mess of forms, additional money we did not expect to pay, and much more effort because we are Americans. We were the last ones back on the bus because all the other gringos get to pay a small fee and quickly get their visas. We got shuffled into our own special line as soon as they saw our passports. We made it to La Paz and have a visa for ninety days so I can´t really complain.
The weekend we arrived was the beginning of Alasitas and the vote for the new constitution in Bolivia. On Saturday we went to the packed opening day of Alasitas. This is a festival devoted to the god Ekeko, the god of abundance and whatever you buy in miniature is supposed to be given to you by Ekeko. Stalls line the streets selling every type of tiny object you can imagine. There are tiny animals, each representing a different character trait, money in every denomination, passports, work permits, marriage licenses, and divorce papers not to mention an assortment of electronics, cars, and mansion. Even the food was in miniature and Lucy and I had a lunch of mini empanadas, sandwhiches, and pastels. This weekend was also a little crazy because the country is voting on a new, very progressive constitution drafted by Evo Morales. It grants universal access to health care and education. It also provides many indigenous communities with access to land and citizenship rights they were denied previously. It was voted on on Sunday. The whole city was closed down. There was literally barely a vehicle in the streets, just people walking around with their families or on their way to the voting booths. Everyone had purple on their finger to show they had voted. Our hostel is located right down the street from the President´s House so we headed over there at 6 and stood outside for 3 and a half hours to see Evo Morales come out and announce the ratification of the new constitution. We were really close. I could have chucked my shoe at him, that´s how close I was, but so far I am pretty impressed with his policies, even his reactions to the US and our stupid reactions to cocoa production in Bolivia. If George Bush had ever tasted Mate de Coca or Coca cookies he too would have a different opinion about growing coca, plus it helps with altitude sickness and upset stomachs. It is just the cocaine form that is bad, and Bolivians blame the US and other country´s demand for the illegal form of the product for the illegal drug trafficing that is causing so many problems. At the rally for Evo there were alot of derogatory cheers about the US in which we were called junkies. Hmmm...
We also met the first indigenous woman to be elected into the Peruvian Congress. She was staying at Mary Fritz´s hotel (the family friend who is hooking us up with this teaching oportunity). She is so nice and gave us her contact so when we are back in Lima we can look her up. She said she would show us around the Peruvian congress!! Mary has introduced us to a number of other people she knows from her many years living and working in the city. There is a helpful list of young people she has provided for us to show us around the city. It was also great hearing her perspective on the school and politics here. She flew out a few days ago and both Lucy and I are really sad that we can´t count on stopping by her hotel room to badger her and her travel partner, Hope, with questions and dinner invitations.
School started monday and today marks the end of our first week of work. I am in a smaller school in a suberb a 15 minute ride from the center of La Paz. Lucy and I are stayinga t a hotel right on the Prado, the main street in La Paz. It is a really great location right in the center of everything. The hotel is only used for church business and to house volunteers who come down for short trips from churches in the states so we pretty have full run of the hotel.
I am assistant teaching PK through third grade english classes with Luzmilla, one of the English teachers at the school. The kids are adorable but crazy and the disorginization of the whole school system will require another blog post.

As with everything when I travel, my plans have been adjusted and rehashed to the point that they no longer really resemble where I thought I would be when I set out. I was planning to go to Bolivia, but flights to Peru were far cheaper so I am now traveling overland to Bolivia, and I was planning to see Machu Pichhu but now I´m traveling along the coast, bypassing the highlands where Machu Picchu is. We also may not stay in Bolivia until June. We might be heading to Argentina to volunteer there for a bit. In conclusion the only plan that is set is the ones that I have already carried out. The rest is subject to change... So allow me to describe what we have done.

We spent three days in Lima, exploring the city and trying to decide where we would go next. We stayed in a Hospedaje that gave us the cheap room on the roof. So we had our own unfurbished rooftop terrace which was quite enjoyable, even if it wasn´t five star quallity accomodation. The city is located on the coast and runs into cliffs that pear out over the beach below. You can spot the tiny figures of surfers in the waves and overhead are paragliders taking advantage of the sea breezes that create thermals ideal for paragliding. Most of our time was spent wandering through Miraflores and Central Lima exploring markets, shops, and interesting buildings.

On the third day we took a bus a few hours down the coast to Chincha because according to our guidebook it is a great place to hear Afro-Peruvian music. We had no real plan regarding where we would find a performance but were lucky enough to stumble upon a hostel run by a gregarious women by the name of Carmen who was more than willing to provide you with information and opinions on everything, even if you didn´t want it. She informed us that another American was staying at her hostel and was headed to a party that night where there was a music performance. We ran across him later and he turned out to be a Tufts student who was studying Afro-Peruvian music as part of a special project. That night we went with him to El Carmen, the next town over. He had been told to come at nine, and in true gringo spirit we arrived precisely at nine to discover that nothing was ready. Eventually we wound up waiting around in the living room of the family who was organizing the event while they prepared for dinner (at around ten) and chatting to a documentary film maker who was covering the family as part of a film about Peruvian music.

The party started at midnight, by which point we were all exhausted after waiting around for three hours. The party was more dancing to raggaetone and the much discussed music performance did not take place. We did get to do our best to mimick the hip swivels of the women who invited us to dance with them. Everyone was standing around in groups of girls or boys and they would have one large half liter bottle of beer and a small plastic cup. One person would drink beer from the small plastic cup as the person beside them held the beer. The cup was passed to the beer holder, who poured themselves a glass, and passed the beer to the next person in the circle. It continued around the circle until it was done and another bottle would appear. It was a good way to pace yourself and not drink too much. When we had danced for a while we decided to head back, never having seen a music performance but at least we enjoyed an off the beaten track dance party.

We worked our way down to Pisco and stayed here for a night in order to go to the Reserva National de Paracas, where there are floating islands used by thousands of birds as a breeding ground and migratory destination. The island were blanketed with cormorants, Peruvian boobies, penguins, vulutres, and a number of other birds. This is one of theplaces where all the guano(bird poo fertilizer) that made up Peru´s main export for a while came from. The rocky beaches were also home to colonies of sea lions. These were a favorite of mine as a kid watching the discovery channel so I found these really exciting to see up close.

That afternoon we hopped on a bus along the Pan American Highway and went to Huacachina, a tiny oasis of no more than 200 people that caters solely to toursits. They come for the towns location amid the massive sand dunes that stretch between the coast and the Cordilleres mountains. Most people come here to sandboard, but Lucy and I opted to be satisfied with simply climbing the massive dunes, which offered pretty amazing views. We also took advantage of the many Pisco and Vino bodegas around the area and did a short tour and got to taste Peruvian Pisco and vino, which is a bit strong and too sweet for my taste but the Pisco tastes exellent in a Pisco sour.

We skipped Nazca, long story, and headed on an overnight bus to Arequipa, 2,000 meters up in the mountains. Things are cooler and a bit more laid back here and we are taking our time before heading to do a short trek in the nearby Colca Canyon.

Ho Chi Minh to Da Lat

For the last week of our trip we planned to go north to the Central Highlands and came across the Easy Riders while reading places to go in our guidebook. This is a group of Vietnamese motorcycle riders who run tours through the backroads of Vietnam for anywhere between a day to twenty at a time, depending on how much time and money you are willing to commit. We decided on four days from Ho Chi Minh to Da Lat so the day after we arrived back in Ho Chi Minh from the Mekong Delta we met up with Tuan, one of the guides at the local version of Starbucks, Highlands Coffee to get a briefing on the four days on the back of a motorbike that were to follow.
We started the next morning and spent an hour weaving in and out of moto-clogged roads before leaving Ho Chi Minh city behind. We stopped at a Cao Dai and Buddhist temple for a briefing on the religions, the later of which is the predominant religion in Vietnam. We then headed further into the countryside so that we could make frequent pitstops to see family run rice paper, noodle, brick, chopstick, and innumerable other factories. There were also tons of coffee pit stops to give everyone a chance to rest after sitting on a motorcycle over roads that were anything but smooth. By the afternoon we had reached the Ho Chi Minh trail, which has been repaved and is not quite the same as the road that was once used to transport supplies to support the Viet Cong. This also called for multiple stops at the gargantuin roadside monuments to war veterans.
One of the greatest benefits of the trip was being able to ask any questions you wanted to Tuan or Lee who were driving the bikes. Being able to have everything explained from communist propaganda posters to the types of crops being grown in the fields we drove past was incredibly helpful. They were also able to pick out all the hole in the wall roadside restaurants I would have never gone to on my own. Vietnam has very little vegetarian food and navigating my way through the menus that I can neither read nor understand had limited most of my dining experiences to more touristy restaraunts. This time we found ourselves eating in the dingy open faced roadside eateries. I would love to say that I tasted amazing Vietnamese food that I never knew existed, but when it comes to vegetarian fair it is hard to branch out past garlic vegetables and the occasional tofu creation.
By the second day the air had cooled off a bit and we were winding our way through coffee and cashew plantations. It was coffee harvesting season and the berries could be found drying in the yards of every house we passed and people hauling bulging sacks of berries streamed out of the fields around evening. Vietnam is the second largest coffee exporter in the world, which I found very exciting given my coffee ediciton. Vietnamese coffee is served as a thick syrup-like concoction that is brewed in a small filter that perches atop your cup. I loved it until the bike trip, when I discovered that the Vietnamese like to have their beans roasted in copious amounts of butter, sugar, and chocolate. Yuck. Although I was a little jaded it was still an experience driving through the plantations and stopping along the way to see all the processing from picking to processing of the berries.
The second day was also when the incredible views of rolling hills began and these only got better as we got further up into the highlands. The road cut through pine forests and peaked over vallies of fields that resembled a patchwork quilt of varying patterns and green hughes. It was one of the many things on this trip that I stuggle to capture with words or photos. That is probably the main reason I enjoy traveling. Finding the moments that I cannot experience unless I am there because words and pictures fall short of the beauty of the real thing.
Arriving in Da Lat on day four Kara and I got our first taste of cold weather. It reminded us that it was December and reminded me that it was almost the holidays and time for me to head home. We caught a bus back overnight the next day and were back in Ho Chi Minh for a last few days of museums, shopping, and the restauraunts we wanted to visit one more time (one was actually an Indian restaraunt).

Uncle Ho

Ten of the sixteen days in Vietnam have slipped by and I am back in Ho Chi Minh where I started. We opted not to try and rush up to Hanoi and back, although we were tempted since everyone says the North is better. Instead, we ventured in the opposite direction, into the Mekong Delta. First stop was Phu Quoc Island, a straight shot across the Mekong and clear offshore for three hours by speed boat. We arrived after a long mini-bus ride positioned in front of the most awful Russian couple I have ever encountered, arriving in Rach Gia at 4:30 am, sleeping like homeless people on benches at the boat station, and FINALLY getting the boat to the island. We found a hotel right on the beach and stumbled down to the water to collapse onto the amazing white sand and lounge for the rest of the day by the water. We spent three days at Phu Quoc snorkelling, lying on the beach, and riding around on a rented motorbike. I really enjoyed Phu Quoc since it is not vastly overdeveloped the way Thailand's beaches are. There are still plenty of small fishing villages along the water and the interior of the island is covered mostly in forest. This made it especially enjoyable to motorbike around. The island is known throughout Vietnam for making superior fish sauce, and this was evident from the frequent scent that accosted our nostrils whenever we passed a fish sauce factory. I chose not to dispute this claim and just believe them, I did not to try any.
We left the island to visit a few other locations in the Mekong Delta, Can Tho and Vin Long. We did your standard boat trip to the floating markets in Can Tho. We attempted to get an independent driver to take us to avoid the package tourist trips. We found Hung, boat driver down by the water who offered us a cheaper trip than the packaged tour the hotel owner pushed on us. At 5:30 am, when we met him for our trip to the "less touristy" of the markets Hung took us to get some coffee at a coffee shop. In Vietnam this means small stall on the sidewalk with tiny plastic tables no more than a foot of the ground with a cluster of bright plastic stools that even well dressed businessmen in Saigon can be seen squatting on as they share a cup of joe. At our table a travel agent who Hung works for plopped down. We had succeeded ini organizing a packaged tour with the boat driver instead of the travel agent! We were still taken on the standard trip complete with plenty of photo opps and a few free fruits that hung peeled and offered us as he drove us there and back. Well at least we tried, and the cluster of boats loaded with tropical fruit and veggies clogging the side of the river was still enjoyable... even if I felt like a huge tourist as I happily snapped photos of the people there trying to buy produce to take back to their stalls in town. The houseboats that bring goods from the multitude of orchards and farms in the waterways of the Mekong are pretty impressive. Laundry is strewn up on the back decks, cooking pots from that mornings breakfast are being cleaned inside, and the family dog and small garden are located on the roof of the boat. Meanwhile a brisk business is being done at the front of the boat as smaller vessels pull up and load up on jack fruit, pumpkin, dragon fruit, or whatever the family has for sale.
On the way back we took the long way through the smaller waterways that were lined by rural villages and farms before heading back to Can Tho. From here we got suckered into booking another boat and homestay through the same tour operator to Vinh Long to do a homestay on Anh Binh Island. Several families on the island offer up their homes for tourists to spend a night and enjoy two homecooked meals. Unfortunately the fact that we are vegetarian was not successfully communicated to the family... which meant I ate fish and had to akwardly infrom the mother of the family why I had not touced the beef. We did get very enetertaining Vietnamese lesson from their twelve year old son and I ate some of the best star fruit I have ever tasted that I smuggled from a tree growing ouside our room.
Then we were back in Saigon for a day before we made our second attempt at getting off the beaten track by taking a tour with the Easy Riders of Dalat. This is a very popular motorcycle tour group that was started in Da Lat and today has hundreds of copy cat operations running throughout Vietnam. The groups are made up of Vietnamese motorcycle drivers who speak relatively good English (depending on which group you find yourself using) who take you on single or multi-day tours through Vietnam. Kara and I wound up with Tuan and Lee on a four day trip from Saigon to Da Lat along the Ho Chi Minh trail.