I arrived in Hanoi in my usual post-flying-around-the-world state of delusion and jumped right into my next Flash pack tour. I liked our Vietnam guide Hoang Le (he goes by Le) right off the bat. His smile and energy was clearly contagious, even though I was too tired at the time to actually catch it. The group seemed to gel quickly during the initial city-food tour in Hanoi and I was surprised at how many of us knew each other’s names by the end of the night. And, we enjoyed our first sampling of the Vietnamese food that I would soon become obsessed with. I’ve enjoyed a lot (some might say too much) of delicious cuisines during my travels around the world, and while I hate to pick favorites, I will say Vietnamese food is high on the list. It will most definitely be part of my ‘Death Row Meal’ menu, which has undergone several revisions since my travels began. I’m actually thinking a ‘Death Row Buffet’ is probably more efficient at this point!
We spent the next day touring Hanoi, in the morning by bus and the afternoon by bicycle. We first hit up the infamous Ho Chi Mihn’s Mausoleum which was also the site of his pretty phat summer palace. 
Le gave us the full-scoop on the sitch and for the first of many times on my tours of Vietnam and Cambodia I realized that the history I’d been taught in school wasn’t entirely accurate. I knew of Ho Chi Mihn from history class, mostly in reference to his communist regime and his trail. I guess I didn’t have a warm and fuzzy about him as a result of these associations but honestly hadn’t given it all that much thought. Le educated us as to the real deal, from his perspective, and it seems Ho Chi was a hero of sorts to the Vietnamese- a stand-up guy who lived a modest life, refused to live the garish lifestyle to which he was entitled, and authentically had the best interest of “the people” in mind, without the corruption that has been rampant in Communist regimes since. It was interesting that as we sat on the curb across the well-guarded street from the Mausoleum, and while Le sat in front of us explaining the site, he was admonished by an officer for having his back to Ho Chi. 
Le looked surprised before rotating his position, but not too surprised as it seems rules are both created and enforced kinda willy-nilly in Vietnam these days. Le also shared that he has to be careful what he’s telling us when in public or around others as free speech does not seem to be encouraged by the government, sadly. In fact, while we were there I saw on news flash (from the U.S.) that a Vietnamese blogger had just been sentenced to seven years in jail for writing about an environmental disaster (a disaster that had really happened but the government didn’t want shared publicly). Le assured me that my Teha’s Travels post on the trip would not have any negative ramifications but I chose to err on the side of caution and wait until I was out of the country to post this.
That afternoon we hopped on some bikes for an off the beaten path tour of Hanoi, cruising through the bustling, moto-bike filled city to get to the peaceful banana groves dotted with clusters of spartan homes. 
We then cruised back to the city, made a stop at Le’s house, AND even got to meet his parents! They welcomed us with tea and fresh pineapple and bananas that they had grown, of course. 
That evening there was no rest for the weary as we prepared to board an overnight train that would take us north. Having only taken day trains I wasn’t sure what to expect but it was actually quite nice! We stayed in sleeper cars with two bunk beds in each room. It reminded me of summer camp- minus the pillow fights. 
While some in the group reported not reaching REM sleep cycles (or any sleep cycles), the movement of the train lulled me right to sleep. We arrived in beautiful Sapa just in-time for breakfast and then embarked on a spectacular hike- the adrenaline from the views making even the sleepless forget they were supposed to be tired. 
Our smily and charismatic hiking guide, Meg, deftly navigated us through the windy mountains, covered in lush rice patties, smatterings of villages, and the occasional buffalo. 
Meg led us on another hike the next day and we swung by the remote hut/house where her grandfather lives, along with a bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins. Meg herself lived in the three-roomed hut for four years as a child, as her family needed whatever money she could bring in from selling bracelets and other woven items to tourists in the surrounding area. She did return to school, but not for long, and while her English is perfect, she admits not knowing how to read or write…but is working hard to make sure it’s different for her 6 year old son. Here she is with her grandfather:
We relaxed that afternoon before hopping on the Night Train back to Hanoi (‘Midnight Train to Georgia’ kept going through my head- the Indigo Girls version). Then in true Trains, Planes, and Automobile (& boats) style we headed to the airport for a quick flight only to have a chariot (aka bus) scoop us up and deposit us at our home for the next two days…a junk boat cruising through Halong Bay! Let me be clear that we were definitely not roughing it, as we were aboard a very non-junky vessel, where we enjoyed delicious and beautifully presented meals, sunshine on the top decks, and a kayak trip among the dozens of “islands” that are ginormous rock formations. 
That evening we also had a cooking lesson (on the lido deck, of course) on how to make spring rolls. 
Okay…now is the time to admit that I had a bit of a love affair with spring rolls on this trip- the fried version worked but my favorite are actually the fresh version with rice paper. I can safely say that I ate dozens of them during the two week trip. I also know 13 people who can validate this fact. Here’s a sampling of one of my typical breakfast plates:
The evening brought some authentic group bonding through karaoke…while it took us a few minutes (and several drinks) to get going- we did not disappoint. Although we may have disappointed the residents of the surrounding boats docked for the evening who were looking to go to bed early!
Our final two stops in Vietnam were Hoi An and Ho Chi Minh City (the city formally known as Saigon). With less structured time in lovely Hoi An we did everything from get clothes made by local tailors (and cheap!) to foot massages (also cheap) to bike tours of local islands. I mean, what’s not to like about this city?? 
Please note the mic of the bike tour guide…and he used it every time he spoke even though the amplification it provided (if any) was extremely negligible. We also took a cooking class and learned how to make THE MOST delicious fish, seasoned with a mixture of fresh spices and wrapped in banana leaves before being cooked over the flame of a large outdoor oven. 
It was scrumptious and while we were given the recipe, I have doubts about my ability to replicate it using bottled spices, tin foil, and the stand-up George Forman grill I have on my balcony. Alas, I will try!
Our visit to Ho Chi Minh city started on a somber note with a visit to the Remembrance museum, which commemorates the “People’s War” (what the Vietnamese call the Vietnam war). As difficult and emotional as it was to see and take in, it was such an important part of the trip for me as I increasingly realized how gaping the holes in my knowledge of the war were and the sad realities I was protected from. The hardest part to see was an exhibit on the effects of Agent Orange on the Vietnamese people. The exhibit consists of large photographs and short biographies of some of the many Vietnamese who were born with horrific birth defects as a result of the chemical warfare. These poor children (many now adults) have unconscionable deformities yet many have worked hard to lead accomplished lives, despite receiving very little (if anything) in reparations for their suffering. I was saddened to learn that the impacts of Agent Orange can be passed down to future generations and that there are now third generation children suffering. I have to admit that I was truly embarrassed to be an American as we went through the museum and each exhibit demonstrated more of the devastation the war caused. 
The next day my education about the “People’s War” continued with a visit to a location close to the Cambodian border where many of the underground tunnels were located. Again, I must admit my ignorance as to the magnitude of these tunnels. And by magnitude I mean how many of them there were and how long they extended (hundreds of miles!), not the size of the actual tunnels. Let me be clear- the tunnels are TINY- here’s an entrance to one! 
I would venture to guess that 96% of American adults would not have been able to fit into a tunnel. Maybe closer to 98%, actually, given current obesity rates. My fabulous roommate, Rachel, fit perfectly though! 
We got to walk/crawl through a faux tunnel designed to give tourists a better sense of the experience but with the HUGE caveat that the amusement park version was three times bigger than the real deal, and that the actual tunnels were pitch black. And apparently the tunnels weren’t just for cruising around- people, entire families, actually LIVED in those tunnels to stay protected from bombings, and for long periods of time. To say I can’t even imagine what that was like is the understatement of the century. During the tour we could have walk-crawled further in the faux tunnel system but we all opted to get out as quickly as possible. It was hard to be in there- and I’m not even claustrophobic. And, while in the tunnel I flashed-back to family vacations as a kid when my siblings and I would complain about too much “family togetherness” sharing a hotel room or small beach rental. I then learned about the ultimate demonstration of family togetherness, tunnel-style, as there were several babies born in the tunnels! Le said the “tunnel babies” had a reunion recently and he got to meet one of them.
From a wartime perspective the elaborate tunnel infrastructure was incredible in how extremely strategic and effective it was. They were well-hidden, with ventilation holes disguised in piles of dirt and as an additional security system they were surrounded by well-camouflaged holes in the ground that had deadly traps waiting for the unsuspecting soldier who fell in. And, to further compile the situation, the weather…the day we were there was supposedly “not too bad” weather-wise and we were all flagging from the heat and humidity, after just strolling around for an hour and a half. My heart truly goes out to the soldiers on both sides who endured these conditions (and worse). It was a quiet bus ride after we left the tunnels to drive to the Cambodian border.
Then, horror of horrors, we had to say goodbye to our new BFF, Le! He kindly took us all the way to passport control and made sure we all got through, while doing a very convincing job at acting sad to see us go. He did seem slightly nervous at the prospect of leaving us on our own for a period time, as we had to cross the border solo to meet our Cambodia guide. This required leaving the building, turning left, walking a few hundred meters, and looking for a guy with a Flash pack sign. Apparently the group had not instilled confidence in Le that we were up for this task, as he reminded us several times of where to go and what to look for.
Alas, we made it! Our new guide, Kaesar (not the salad, think Usual Suspects) actually met us halfway with a big smile and shepered us through the process of getting a visa. 
Soon we were off to Phnom Penh, the capitol city. One of the many reasons Keasar was an awesome guide is that he gave us the real scoop on his native country, as difficult as I know it was for him to share. As we drove into the clean, built-up, and somewhat glitzy capital city we noted it was a far cry from the scenery along the sparse, dusty roads that got us there. 
K explained that the current government in Cambodia is quite corrupt (similar to how Le described Vietnam) and that he would have to be careful about where he could talk to us about the real deal- it would probably be mostly on the bus. K informed us that Phnom Penh does have some money, or at least they’re putting money into things like huge statues and portraits of the king, but, in reality, it’s more of a facade to convince the rest of the world that the country is doing really well. Here’s the current King…he’s everywhere! 
In reality, we learned, the country is not doing really well. In fact, the majority of the country is poor and 70% don’t have access to piped water. In addition, due to the mass killings during the war in the 1970s, 65% of the population is currently under the age of 25. [Side note- in case you aren’t familiar with the nitty gritty of the Cambodian war, as I was not- approx 1/4 of the population- TWO MILLION people- were killed in massacres by the Communist regime, the Khumer Rouge. Yes, I told you I learned a lot of harsh realities on his trip…but I’m glad I did]. Keasar also shared that there is a lot of fear right now as children aren’t being educated properly (or at all) and aren’t being told anything about the country’s tragic history…things the country can learn from. Given that youngsters are the majority in the country, this is especially concerning. K is not the only one terrified that if things don’t change, history will repeat itself. He’s doing more than his part by starting a school in the remote village where he grew up (and where both of his parents were tragically killed as a result of the conflicts when he was a young boy). The school focuses on teaching English to the village children as K feels this skill is essential to avoiding an insular future and establishing a global presence. K relies on volunteers (some from his tours!) to teach at the school for whatever periods of time they can spare and provides a bedroom with a local family. I have to admit I’m very tempted…
We had a heavy next day with a visit to the Genocide museum and one of the many killing fields. We all tried to mentally prepare ourselves as we boarded the bus but soon realized that was pretty impossible to do. The genocide museum was once S21 (Security Prison 21) and served as a prison, interrogation center and extermination camp that held about 1,500 people at a time- including entire families. Prisoners were taken there if the Kmer Rouge they felt they had any valuable information. The judgement on who these people were or what info they had seemed to have been severely misguided and we heard many accounts of prisoners making things up while undergoing brutal torture and interrogations, frequently with their children present. We got to meet three of the survivors of S21, who were fortunate to still be there, hiding, when the Vietnamese overtook the facility in 1979. As difficult as it clearly is for these men to re-live their ordeals while telling them to tourists everyday, they say they want the stories to be told as part of sharing the history- as there aren’t many left to share it. I also suspect there aren’t as lucrative sources of income for these men, who have permanent physical injuries from what they went through and now have families of their own to support. One of the survivors we met is the little boy on the left in this photo, from the day the Vietnamese arrived at S21. 
My tour-mate, Anne, gave a donation to one survivor and bought the books of the other two and said “I don’t know that I can even bring myself to read them but I just don’t want them to have to tell those stories again.”
The killing fields were even more emotionally charged. There was a somber aura around them, but they looked like an unkept golf course with wooden walkways at first…then we realized the large holes in the ground were where the mass burials had been. 
Several areas were marked- one as a location of a mass grave where 150 women and children had been buried naked…the majority had been beheaded. Next to that grave was a large tree covered in friendship bracelets. It was marked “the killing tree” as children had been tied to a rope and thrown against the tree over repeatedly before being deposited in the grave. 
There were also markers where the sound system speakers were located- to drown out the noise from the killings. In the middle of the fields there’s a large memorial, filled with skulls from the victims, each labeled with if they were male or female and how they died (bayonet, bullet, iron tool, etc.) There aren’t words to describe the feeling of looking at all those skulls, in the middle of the field, while in a beautiful country where every person you’ve met has been incredibly warm and welcoming.
Needless to say, we were all a little/lot emotionally exhausted and somewhat shell-shocked after our morning. We had some time to chill-out and process that afternoon before embarking on an evening boat cruise up the river, where we passed by many floating houses/boats full of families waving excitedly at us. I couldn’t help think that maybe I’d get sick of tourist boats, blasting music, cruising by my home but everyone seemed excited to see us.
The next day we embarked on our final trip, to Siem Reap. There we had an o’dark thirty morning where we got up at 4 AM to see Angor Wat at sunrise (totally worth it).
Don’t we look chipper for having had such an early bell? 
We also toured a few other spectacular temples in the area (including one where they filmed the Tomberator apparently) and saw a gorgeous sunset from the top of one massive temple. 
In each case I was in awe of the grandeur of the ancient structures and the detail that adorned them. 
On the final day of the tour (boo!) I took an optional tour of a “floating village,” of which there are apparently hundreds. And we’re talking about real villages, complete with schools, temples, stores etc. The water levels vary based on the season and rainfall but most of the time the village is truly floating and boat is the only way to get around. It was one final awe-inspiring glimpse into the Cambodian culture and the spirit of the people who make it so. 
Saying goodbye at the end of the tour is always the worst part (without a doubt) and this trip was no exception, although I’ve learned that “we’ll stay in touch, for sure!” isn’t just something Flash Packers just say. I’ve been happy and impressed by how well previous groups have stayed in touch, via What’s App groups, in-person get-togethers and even planning future trips together! This knowledge made it easier to bid farewell to my new friends, with whom I’d shared some intense, eye-opening experiences and also some really fun times. 
Next up…I meander my way back to the U.S. for the holidays, with a few stops on the way…
