Prologue
My heart rate is getting back to normal. I have a thin layer of sweat all over my body and my patience will soon be tested. Currently my headphones are on and I’m listening to a prog metal band at audio levels never reached before.
OMG Bill, what has happened?
Diane’s alarm went off at 3:00 am. We checked out of the hotel by 4:20 and headed to the Da Nang Airport arriving 2 hours before our 7:05 flight, only to find out that it is delayed by 3 hours. I had a Vietnamese coffee and a croissant which will be the last thing I eat for untold hours. The plane took off just after 10 am thus guaranteeing we miss our connecting flight which was at 10:15 am in Saigon. We were re-booked on a new flight which begins its boarding at 11:50. This is the exact same time that we land. Mind you, we have to get off our current plane, wait 15 minutes to collect our luggage, exit the building, take a left, run down the sidewalk and re-enter another building where the VietJet ticket counter is located. Good thing we’ve been to Saigon airport a few times before, and Diane has a good memory of it. The current time is 12:05 and our flight is wheels up at 12:10. We ask the first VietJet employee we see for help. “Wow, follow me!” was her reply. We were sent to another agent who learned our situation and a guy in a suit got involved. “Do you have a boarding pass?” No! “Why are you so late? I wanted to say because you asshats delayed our flight by 3 hours, “We just landed” A second suit got involved. “You must hurry, follow us!”
Unshaven, unhappy, and scissors confiscated.
We were hastily escorted though security, jumped in front of a long line people, threw our bags and shoes in the ‘machine’. “Hurry, sir, we have no time,” said our escort. I walked through the metal detector and was pulled aside on the other side. “Do you have computer in your bag?” Yes, two I say while in bare feet. “Do you have any scissors? (one of the suits says “hurry, sir”) I have one scissor. (OMG! I have failed. Why did I bring the stupid scissors… I could have just let my nose hairs go rampant… no one cares… I’m in Vietnam) I’m being spoken to by 2 different people both speaking half in English and half in Vietnamese. The security guy was all business and had his game face on. With hand gestures and broken English, I gather he wants me to open my bag and show him the f-ing scissors. Diane is going through the same torture but delayed by 10 seconds. “Sir, we got to go soon.” I’m approaching the limit of being overwhelmed. “The scissors, sir.” I open my bag. I know exactly where they are at and hand the cutting device over. Now he has both of our scissors, we are in our bare feet, it’s crowded, I have my poorly packed bag open for the world to see and if that guy says ‘please hurry’ one more time I’m gonna ‘splode’.
(In the scrum, both our scissors were not returned. I only learn this days later.) I close my bag, and barely get my shoes back on. “Follow me, hurry!” We run down a hallway, then another hallway opens up to the right and finally we walk down an empty jetway towards our plane which is being held for us. We drop two bags off at the end of the jetway. Winded and sweaty, I walk onto the plane. There are a few people still being settled in. It all seems very normal. No one on board knows what stress we just went through. Our seats are not together and mine is 8-D. I’m looking at the escalating numbers printed on the overhead bins and find my empty seat next to a nursing mother. (I can hear the imaginary high screechy staccato violins in my head one normally hears in movies during scary parts) No towel, just a baby doing ‘that’. Oh, what “fresh hell” have I landed in. Diane had already settled into 9-B across the aisle, already receiving her complimentary tea and crumpet while adjusting her sleep mask. Meanwhile, I slowly sit in my assigned seat in the same manner as one would sit next to an angry cobra. Then someone, probably the baby’s aunt, taps me on the shoulder and asked if I want to swap seats. Halleluiah!! Hells yes, I’ll swap. I stand up, she takes my seat. Then, I unfortunately discover my new seat is next to the dad of the aforementioned baby holding his squirming, fussing 1.5-year-old brother on the brink of a major meltdown. All I can do is stare at the three seats on my side of the aisle, a woman in the window seat, the father in the middle seat, holding on as best he can to his kicking, crying child, and then my very small aisle seat. “Sir, please you take your seat.”
Out of the frying pan and into the volcano. I think to myself “Bill, you need a plan!” Quick as a bunny I sit down and lean left towards the aisle to avoid the toddler’s kicking feet. I buckle up both figuratively and literally. Desperately I put on my trusty powder blue, over-ear, noise-cancelling headphones, search my setlist for the perfect song, then turned up ‘Effigy’ to 11. And start counting the minutes…
Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam
Beach left and beach right.This is the new best beach I have ever been on. I think we are not going to do a great deal in the coming days…
Breakfast
OMG Bill! You are so irritating at a breakfast buffet. Just load up your plate! ForCryingOutLoud!!!!
Slow breakfast. I did not invent it but I’ve made it into an artform.
Each one of these photos represents somewhere between 3 and 10 minutes.
Watermelon juice, coffee, pineapple and watermelon, croissant, bacon, hashbrown, orange juice, various sliced cheeses, eggs over easy, more hashbrowns, more orange juice, chocolate croissant and a cappuccino.
I’m sure the staff gaze at me in wonderment. I do hope I am not irritating with all the dishes I use.
In the background I hear the murmur of fellow guests speaking in hushed tones. More loudly, and to my left, is the constant crash of waves on the beach close by. Nondescript guitar jazz plays overhead. I sip my fresh watermelon juice as the twinkling sterno can flames catch my eye, fluttering with the constant ocean breeze. Gawd, I think I can even irritate myself in how I do a breakfast buffet. I pour a splash of milk in a porcelain cup and then fill it half full of coffee. Add more coffee and it will cool too much by the time I finish the cup. I shuffle back to my seat and take out my pen and place my notepad in front me. I later will discover that after not having hashbrowns for an eternity, even when they are mediocre, they are quite welcome. I believe the pineapple was worth some fruit award. They even have a dedicated ‘cold‘ room where you can open a glass door, walk in and load up on cheeses, fruit, and salad items. (I took two trips) We chat it up with the GM, Cindy, who is from Cape Town, South Africa. My initial guess was Australia. She was impressive. She took the time and made the habit of mingling with each guest. This way she had her finger on the pulse of the establishment she ran. Where was she during the great breakfast voucher fiasco in Hoi An?
Lunch, on a city visit to Duong Dong (Yes, I made fun of the name too)
Before having lunch we walked into a coffee shop and had some very strong Vietnamese coffee. How strong was it? It was so strong that it woke up a few of my ancestors. It was a remarkably good coffee.
Vietnamese coffee comes like this. A small splash of condensed milk in a white cup with boiling water and ground coffee in a tin (with small holes) perched on top. You wait ’til it slowly drips into your cup. Turn the tin cover upside down and place it on the table, then place the ‘tin’ on top of it so it won’t make a mess. Then you first stir the coffee and milk well, then pour the coffee in the white cup into the glass of ice. Gawd, I love this!!
We find a place for lunch, and I order beef and veggies, which comes with bread. I suspect I will forget this meal. No pictures were taken, not many words written, such that it won’t make it in the blog, thus forgotten forever. It came served on an iron skillet, sizzling for everyone in the restaurant to hear what we’ve ordered. Fork- tender chunks of roasted beef in a thin flavorful gravy with red and yellow capsicum peppers with onions. A raw egg was split over the top such that by the time it reached our table it was a perfect sunnyside up, drowning in a sea of gravy. Holy cow, what have we done? Then I see someone else delivering something that caught my breath. It was a perfect loaf of freshly baked French bread. Crispy/flaky on the outside, such that when you hand tore a piece, bread-crust shrapnel exploded everywhere, and then soft in the middle perfect for mopping up that delicious gravy and bits of onion.
After lingering over this delectable lunch, we walked across the street to a coffee/internet bar and ordered ice cream. We sat and chatted for a half hour while having ice cream and watching the world go by on a busy Vietnamese street. I took a quick photo and suddenly all of this lovely time is caught up in a blog and will deservedly live forever. I won’t name the restaurants so they will be shrouded in mystery.
Hmmmm ...what do you do on an island?
Bill returns from the ocean after being told the meaning of life and begins speaking in tongues. Diane takes a lovely selfie as Bill wonders, with concern, if his bare chest will be on Facebook again in a few minutes. Bill does not talk about Bill in the 3rd person.
The other end of the hotel complex is more rocky. I don’t mind at all. It is a cross between Gilligan’s Island and Stonehenge. We spend late morning down here, as our ‘adventure’ of the day. We are coasting. It is if I am breathing in gasps of beach time before we return home to our more regimented daily lives. I do look forward to our Nespresso coffee machine and peanut butter toast every morning for breakfast. This may seem odd since we have a massive unlimited spread available to us every morning here. There is no place like home.
Dinner
Dinner was unexpectedly good. We sat at one of the edges of the restaurant. Diane was seated, complete with the placing of the napkin on her lap. I made a joke of my napkin and the waitress laughed along as we set the pace for dinner at Gio Restaurant.
A perfectly sour tamarind soup with shrimp. My first taste of the broth was shockingly good. Yay!
Seeing (and hearing) the waves constantly crashing on rocks below set the mood for dinner.
Steamed sea bass in a deep, thick, soy glaze. Delicate and delicious it took center stage for dinner tonight.
Our waiter Marco. Professional, knowledgeable, friendly and genuinely laughed at one of my jokes. If I purchased a competing resort on the island, I would poach him for sure. Buying a resort probably is not in the cards, and nobody can compete with this place anyway.
The little things add up...
It is the little things that add up to make something truly special. In the dining area for breakfast, I made a big deal about the Nespresso coffee machine they were testing out. Cindy, the GM, said they were contemplating buying serval of these machines for the guest rooms.
‘Lo and behold’, what shows up in our room? It is nice to be thought about. This is the demo from Nespresso, so we get to take it for a spin.
Cindy, genuine and gracious.
After a hellish travel day, I was weak as a kitten and desperate for something to tide me over until dinner. I have never tasted a better ham and cheese sandwich, with some fries to boot. I was saved. (They even cut the crusts off, just like mom did when I stayed home from school because I was sick)
We were befriended by Ly. Who always insisted on opening my beer. Always with a lovely smile, always with charm.
I could not recommend this place enough. The Green Bay Resort on Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam.
To end the evening, I had a cognac as Diane and I discussed baseball and the rule on if a ball bunted up the 3rd baseline and hitting the 3rd base bag, then going foul. Diane simply stated that once the ball touches the base it is ‘in play’ and the runner is safe at first. Well, this is where I felt I needed to step in and ‘man-splain‘ the rules of baseball to her. Not only did that not go well but I was also completely wrong. We even texted our baseball guru to confirm I was wrong. Unfortunately, because of the time difference, we got him out of bed to get an answer. See, the rule is when you are proven wrong during ‘man-splaining‘ it must be confirmed by another man. Getting him out of bed made it even better.
Final Thoughts
Am I going to wrap up Vietnam as a whole? No. I started a couple of times to gather my thoughts in some coherent bundle, but I think I’ve already said it all in the four cities I wrote about. Saigon, Na Trang, Hoi An and now Phu Quoc. In the last 26 days, including getting home, we have taken 10 flights, one ‘too long’ train ride and a billion taxi rides. We’ve visited 5 cities, while each of us were working out of a single carry-on bag. We are ready for ‘laundry day’ and a familiar bed.
Since leaving Seattle 5 months ago we have taken a total of 30 flights and visited 13 cities. No, that was not a typo. We took 30 flights. I am gobsmacked. At the time of editing this blog, Diane and I started counting flights using our fingers. We had to upgrade to paper because it was getting too complicated.
I’m glad we locked into Thailand for the next year and a bit. After our Vietnam expedition, we are ready to ‘settle’ down a tad. The original plan would have put us back in Thailand this week for a month or two, then skate thru Europe for 3 months, similar to what we did in Vietnam. We are not ready for this yet, plus it is expensive to do. After a couple of initial purchases for the new condo, I want to see if we can live in Thailand with only Social Security monies.
Geez, Bill. What are you gonna write about now?
I enjoy writing. I will continue this blog, but it will be about life in Chiang Mai, Thai people, along with my thoughts and ponderings. We have no travel plans in our near or intermediate future. There has been talk about a Philippines run to see some family, but nothing set in stone.
I suspect I will be writing more but posting less often. I believe no one wants to hear about a grocery store run and how excited we are to discover a new brand of peanut butter. I will be focused on writing about being an expat in a foreign country, with all the challenges, mishaps, fun and beauty that goes with that. I would like it if someone was inspired by my musings such that they follow in our footsteps. For now, I think Diane and I will purchase a plant and put it on the deck of our 7th floor condo overlooking the City of Chiang Mai.