After spending so much time in the tailor shop, I am thinking what did we see of Hoi An: half a day at the Cua Dai beach, not very crowded, and with many terraces and restaurants with fresh, swimming seafood. The beach was beautiful, with white fine sand, and there were still some round fishermen's boats, with red flags for some reason, ideological or otherwise. A man was putting tar on an upturned boat, and it seemed to be made of wickerwork.
The lantern festival of the Full Moon. The main streets of the old town were lined and covered with colourful lanterns every night, and next time (hopefully) I should go and photograph them at sunset when the photos come out better than night-time ones. The tailor gave us two lanterns as presents to remember Hoi An, dark pink and light blue.
The river front and the market. The Japanese Bridge at night. The Chinese temple, with beautiful dwarf gnarled trees in blue ceramic pots outside, and yellow-robed monks inside, burning incense sticks, and goggle-eyed gods or heroes maid of brightly painted wood.
The food was also lovely. Crispy ban xeo pancake, with pork, prawns and bean sprouts, rolled in rice paper with herbs and salad; banana pancakes; cao lau noodles; "white rose" open dim sum; banana leaf parcels, grilled, filled with meat and herbs, especially chives; wonton soup; pho for early lunch but really their breakfast food - we had this even at the airport in Da Nang.
We ate in tourist-aimed restaurants, but the locals eat at tiny side-road low tables and stools, served from a stall. I suggeted that to Jay, but he said he didn't want dysintery.
The fruit seller was a highlight. She had a conical hat and a libra-style balancing load on the shoulder. I took a photo of her and she gave me her load to carry and her hat to wear. The stick was made of wood and the load really heavy. Of course, I found out later that they all do that, but it's still a fun memory.
Wednesday 14 March 2012
Friday 2 March 2012
2012 Vietnam - Hoi An Tailors
Yesterday was a stressful day at the tailor shop. We got there about 2pm, after a long mid-morning nap. I must have been tired after the flight. It was a bit hot and they didn;t have the materials I wanted and kept saying they don't exist even in the other shops. I was expecting them to take me to a warehouse.
Then I got hungry and we went to the riverside cafe, Friendshio Cafe or Huu Nghi. We had the local speciality, cao lao noodls, and grilled banana leaf parcel of pork with aromatic herbs. This was such a good choice that we returned today for dinner. Right now Jay is watching football over my shoulder while I watch a group of Vietnamese men singing vietnamese music under colourful silk lanterns behind the yellow chrisanthemums of the restaurant. One of them has a guitar and another some sort of small guitar like an ukulele. It's mellow, their song, the song of a warm mellow night. I tune out the motorbikes that pass us by. A girl is getting off a motorbike and is changing intoo high heels, helmet still on.
So yesterday after lunch, as Jay had another well-deserved beer, I went for a stroll on the river-front. I walked into a tailor shop and asked about a suit of pink wool. They had no pink wool there, but the woman called up another few women, and one of them took me to the cloth market. Very close, she said. So we walked, past souvenir sellers, laquer sellers, T-shirts with brand logos, fruit sellers, noodle sellers, fresh curled up noodles in various sizes and colours, pungent fish, fresh aromatic herbs, mint, basil, lemongrass, chives. We finally turned two more alleys, increasingly narrow, and I was starting to worry about Jay waiting for me while I get kidnapped by an old Vietnamese woman with a har that isn't even conical. So we got to the cloth market. A cackle of women gathered around talking Vietnamese. It felt very strange. At last one emerged that could speak English, and she produced a couple of materials I was happy with.
Later we went back to the tailor shop, and the owner, a lady around 40-50, was there. Things got easier as she was more helpful and probably more persuasive. I ordered a few things and chose some materials. Then she sent me with another shop-girl in a taxi to cloth-shops, and we saw about six, cris-crossing a busy street with noisy motorbikes. We did eventually find one good colour.
Airplane to Hanoi, day 11.
Finally leaving Hoi An, after a couple of very tough days. I thought making clothes was fun, but man, my back is killing me after two days of standing up trying on clothes and debating over wrinklles and stitches. I hope I have made the right choice of colours, cloths and styles. Too late to change anything now anyway.
She had four tailors working on my clothes. A man making the trousers. An older woman with a group of young girls or women, shall we say. This one kept getting a bit irritated every time I pointed to the wrinkles, bumps and imperfections. But she was the one who seemed to know the solution to all the hard wrinkles that the others were debating for 10-15 min per wrinkle while I was standing up modelling. Then there was the big house with a large flat-screen TV in the living room where four tailor women were working on the porch. We wento this one on the motorbike.
I feel sorry I didn't visit the historic merchants house in Hoi An, but I got the experience of riding the motorbike behind the very diligent shop girl who took me to the tailors. Her body was so slim and minute it felt like holding on to a bamboo reed.
She did irritate me. She kept saying every time how perfect the clothes were, and how they were going to be smoothed out by ironing. "Jus iron!" I did manage to keep calm and speak slowly all the time, and after insisting a few times she would explain my complaint to the tailors, who never argued. They knew my complaints had a basis every time, and corrected it. Of course, it took a long time.
Yesterday night we left the tailor shop at 11, their whole house dark and asleep, and this morning we had more fittings from 8.30 until 11.30 when we got the taxi to the airport. I had hoped to get at least one hours' break to visit Hoi An in day-time, but what with all the adjustments, it was just not possible.
I have to say I do like the new clothes, they fit really well in all the places where shop-bought clothes don't.
Then I got hungry and we went to the riverside cafe, Friendshio Cafe or Huu Nghi. We had the local speciality, cao lao noodls, and grilled banana leaf parcel of pork with aromatic herbs. This was such a good choice that we returned today for dinner. Right now Jay is watching football over my shoulder while I watch a group of Vietnamese men singing vietnamese music under colourful silk lanterns behind the yellow chrisanthemums of the restaurant. One of them has a guitar and another some sort of small guitar like an ukulele. It's mellow, their song, the song of a warm mellow night. I tune out the motorbikes that pass us by. A girl is getting off a motorbike and is changing intoo high heels, helmet still on.
So yesterday after lunch, as Jay had another well-deserved beer, I went for a stroll on the river-front. I walked into a tailor shop and asked about a suit of pink wool. They had no pink wool there, but the woman called up another few women, and one of them took me to the cloth market. Very close, she said. So we walked, past souvenir sellers, laquer sellers, T-shirts with brand logos, fruit sellers, noodle sellers, fresh curled up noodles in various sizes and colours, pungent fish, fresh aromatic herbs, mint, basil, lemongrass, chives. We finally turned two more alleys, increasingly narrow, and I was starting to worry about Jay waiting for me while I get kidnapped by an old Vietnamese woman with a har that isn't even conical. So we got to the cloth market. A cackle of women gathered around talking Vietnamese. It felt very strange. At last one emerged that could speak English, and she produced a couple of materials I was happy with.
Later we went back to the tailor shop, and the owner, a lady around 40-50, was there. Things got easier as she was more helpful and probably more persuasive. I ordered a few things and chose some materials. Then she sent me with another shop-girl in a taxi to cloth-shops, and we saw about six, cris-crossing a busy street with noisy motorbikes. We did eventually find one good colour.
Airplane to Hanoi, day 11.
Finally leaving Hoi An, after a couple of very tough days. I thought making clothes was fun, but man, my back is killing me after two days of standing up trying on clothes and debating over wrinklles and stitches. I hope I have made the right choice of colours, cloths and styles. Too late to change anything now anyway.
She had four tailors working on my clothes. A man making the trousers. An older woman with a group of young girls or women, shall we say. This one kept getting a bit irritated every time I pointed to the wrinkles, bumps and imperfections. But she was the one who seemed to know the solution to all the hard wrinkles that the others were debating for 10-15 min per wrinkle while I was standing up modelling. Then there was the big house with a large flat-screen TV in the living room where four tailor women were working on the porch. We wento this one on the motorbike.
I feel sorry I didn't visit the historic merchants house in Hoi An, but I got the experience of riding the motorbike behind the very diligent shop girl who took me to the tailors. Her body was so slim and minute it felt like holding on to a bamboo reed.
She did irritate me. She kept saying every time how perfect the clothes were, and how they were going to be smoothed out by ironing. "Jus iron!" I did manage to keep calm and speak slowly all the time, and after insisting a few times she would explain my complaint to the tailors, who never argued. They knew my complaints had a basis every time, and corrected it. Of course, it took a long time.
Yesterday night we left the tailor shop at 11, their whole house dark and asleep, and this morning we had more fittings from 8.30 until 11.30 when we got the taxi to the airport. I had hoped to get at least one hours' break to visit Hoi An in day-time, but what with all the adjustments, it was just not possible.
I have to say I do like the new clothes, they fit really well in all the places where shop-bought clothes don't.
Thursday 1 March 2012
2012 Cambodia - Siem Reap, Floating Village
After lunch on our last day we went to see the floating village that all our tuk-tuk drivers tried hard to sell to us. We bargained for the ticket, from $25 to $20. This reminds me of a friend saying in Africa you can even bargain for an airplane ticket.
The floating village is a dump and a rip-off. I will discourage people to go. Unless you're into slum visits and you enjoy feeling rich when you see poor people. We didn't ask to go there but the driver took us there anyway, then we got to the check-point and I said I just wanted to see it and not take the boat. This was not possbile. The driver persuaded us to pay then, because we said we'll come back at sunset. What sold it for me was that they said you would also see a mangrove forest.
We took an old rickety wooden boat, just for the two of us, despite the fact it had many seats. The boat driver didn't speak English. We passed the Gendarmerie, a newly refurbished house on tall stilts, and the same for the house of the Cambodian People Party. We then drove slowly into the village. A jumble of rather large shaks on wooden stilts, tall and dark as the sun was behind them. Made of corrugated iron planks and maybe some sort of dry bark or leaves, I'm not sure. There were platforms downstairs close to the water with firewood. There were also floating patforms with pigs inside.
The boat took us to a floating restaurant and a young woman came out and spoke to us in English. She said we had to pay $4 more to change into a smaller boat to go into the mangrove forest because our boat was too big. Nobody had told us that in advance so I said I', not happy about that because I already paid in advance. The woman kept saying "It's up to you". I will write a a review about this on the net, I said. They didn't seem to care.
We then drove through the mangrove forest, just on the main channel, which was beautiful. I felt relieved because I had felt afraid in the village with my big camera just the two of us on the boat. The forest was a short stretch and then we got to the open waters of the lake. We still had 1h to go of our 2h boat ride, the sun was up and had another hour to sunset, and our boat was wobbling quite dramatically. The water was muddy ochre, there was nothing on the horison but water and some submerged trees. Jay was the first to complain about the sea-sick movement of the boat. After another few waves I had had enough and asked to go back.
On the way back the village had come to life: children were going up and down the tall stairs to the houses, mothers were paddling the poats around, a girl was throwing water from the river onto the pigs in a floating cage, a mother was doing the same with her toddler. The woman from the restaurant was washing the dishes in the river.
The floating village is a dump and a rip-off. I will discourage people to go. Unless you're into slum visits and you enjoy feeling rich when you see poor people. We didn't ask to go there but the driver took us there anyway, then we got to the check-point and I said I just wanted to see it and not take the boat. This was not possbile. The driver persuaded us to pay then, because we said we'll come back at sunset. What sold it for me was that they said you would also see a mangrove forest.
We took an old rickety wooden boat, just for the two of us, despite the fact it had many seats. The boat driver didn't speak English. We passed the Gendarmerie, a newly refurbished house on tall stilts, and the same for the house of the Cambodian People Party. We then drove slowly into the village. A jumble of rather large shaks on wooden stilts, tall and dark as the sun was behind them. Made of corrugated iron planks and maybe some sort of dry bark or leaves, I'm not sure. There were platforms downstairs close to the water with firewood. There were also floating patforms with pigs inside.
The boat took us to a floating restaurant and a young woman came out and spoke to us in English. She said we had to pay $4 more to change into a smaller boat to go into the mangrove forest because our boat was too big. Nobody had told us that in advance so I said I', not happy about that because I already paid in advance. The woman kept saying "It's up to you". I will write a a review about this on the net, I said. They didn't seem to care.
We then drove through the mangrove forest, just on the main channel, which was beautiful. I felt relieved because I had felt afraid in the village with my big camera just the two of us on the boat. The forest was a short stretch and then we got to the open waters of the lake. We still had 1h to go of our 2h boat ride, the sun was up and had another hour to sunset, and our boat was wobbling quite dramatically. The water was muddy ochre, there was nothing on the horison but water and some submerged trees. Jay was the first to complain about the sea-sick movement of the boat. After another few waves I had had enough and asked to go back.
On the way back the village had come to life: children were going up and down the tall stairs to the houses, mothers were paddling the poats around, a girl was throwing water from the river onto the pigs in a floating cage, a mother was doing the same with her toddler. The woman from the restaurant was washing the dishes in the river.
2012 Cambodia - Siem Reap, Kbal Spean Waterfalls & Banteai Srei, "Temple of Women"
The waterfall at Kbal Spean was a highlight of this trip. We hiked through a rocky path in the jungle among many different trees, carefully labeled in English, Latin and the deocrative Cambodian script. It was a hike of 1800m, signposted with the distance to destination every 200m. There were carvings of gods in the bedrocks, reclining Buddhas, and lingas, the symbols of sexual organs and also of power. So beautiful, nature, religion and art together.
The temple of Banteai Srei is nearby, the only Hindu temple, the "Temple of Women". I didn't see that many women there. The guide told us that there used to be a matriarchy in the 11C AD, but they still had a king and "the wife was very important". He then proceeded to tell us stories of male gods killing demons and each other. He couldn't really elaborate on the subject. Very delicate, small and intricate carvings in pink sandstone.
Yesterday we woke up at 4.30 to go to the sunrise at Angkor Wat. Not that colourful today. There were many reliefs of Apsara dancers, very beautiful, their breasts shiny from so many tourists' hands. This level of delicate detail in carving reminds me of Alhambra. The entrances have statues of guarding lions, sinuous and almost sensual.
Today we went to see the sunrise again, it feels easy to wake up at 4 when you have a good afternoon nap for a couple of hours.
We then went to see the temples in Roluos, where there were adjacent buddhist temples with orange-robed monks, some of them as young as 7. Loley was one of them, Bakong another. Loley is smaller but you can wander around and see how the monks live. There were fish, fish heads and rice lied out to dry in the sun, flies buzzing around and calfs running past to the field, the tourist toilet at 10m. At Bakong it's a tall, terraced temple and the monks are on the side, I photographed one chatting to a pretty young tourist girl. Spiritual chat I'm sure.
The temple of Banteai Srei is nearby, the only Hindu temple, the "Temple of Women". I didn't see that many women there. The guide told us that there used to be a matriarchy in the 11C AD, but they still had a king and "the wife was very important". He then proceeded to tell us stories of male gods killing demons and each other. He couldn't really elaborate on the subject. Very delicate, small and intricate carvings in pink sandstone.
Yesterday we woke up at 4.30 to go to the sunrise at Angkor Wat. Not that colourful today. There were many reliefs of Apsara dancers, very beautiful, their breasts shiny from so many tourists' hands. This level of delicate detail in carving reminds me of Alhambra. The entrances have statues of guarding lions, sinuous and almost sensual.
Today we went to see the sunrise again, it feels easy to wake up at 4 when you have a good afternoon nap for a couple of hours.
We then went to see the temples in Roluos, where there were adjacent buddhist temples with orange-robed monks, some of them as young as 7. Loley was one of them, Bakong another. Loley is smaller but you can wander around and see how the monks live. There were fish, fish heads and rice lied out to dry in the sun, flies buzzing around and calfs running past to the field, the tourist toilet at 10m. At Bakong it's a tall, terraced temple and the monks are on the side, I photographed one chatting to a pretty young tourist girl. Spiritual chat I'm sure.
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