Thanks and Recollection

We've traveled over 4 continents, 13 countries, 10 months, and 63 blog posts. It was a rewarding, life-changing experience. It couldn't have happened without the help of my parents, who took care of our three cats while we were away. We never would have left them unless we knew they were in good hands. Now, despite the hundreds of hairballs, litterbox misfires, and morning "pet me" requests, I hope "the gats", as they are known collectively, gave them some good memories. Thanks, mom and dad, for making it possible.

My wife introduced me to the blogging idea prior to the trip. It sounded like a fantastic idea but little did I realize the affect it would have on me. I rediscovered how much I enjoy writing, even as horribly unpracticed as I currently am. Fourteen years as an engineering student or professional had me focus on technical issues and mathematics; I eliminated creative writing from my life. The blog has revived that interest to create a story and hopefully, I can make the time to continue.

Regarding the blog, a special thanks to those that have read it, either in bulk or post-by-post. I tried to describe events and places to the best of my ability and with a bit of humor. A special thanks to those who left blog comments, especially Greg and my father, who commented on every post. Those words from home mean a lot when you're on the road for so long.

For the final post, I've compiled my 20 most memorable moments from our 10 month journey. It's 20 because I couldn't make it any shorter. This is the order that they came to mind.

Number 1, Meeting Bob and Debbie in the dishpit of Old Faithful Inn, Yellowstone National Park. Bob is a tatooed ex-Vietnam war green beret who hadn't filled out a W2 form the twenty years prior to Old Faithful Inn. Debbie, his girlfriend, was a toothless Oklahoman who has dared to join Bob on his crazy treks to the grizzly-filled Montana wilderness. Upon first glance, they wouldn't seem like the ideal couple for us to form a bond with. We did, however, form a special friendship that hopefully will continue to flower. There are few things more special than a potentially lifelong friendship.

Number 2, the 1-hour homestay with the Sabyinyo gorilla family. For one hour, we stood next to the 9-gorilla family in Virunga National Park as they foraged on eucalyptus trees. There was no cage, no fence, just the gorillas and us. From the spine tingling stare of Guhonda, the largest silverback in the park, to the playful energy of Big Ben, the troublesome youngster, to the distrustful mother of a week old baby, the peaceful family gave us the hour of a lifetime (even though it felt like less than ten minutes).

Number 3, Dala-dala accident near Arusha, Tanzania that left 25 dead. You gotta take the bad with the good. Rumors swirled that one of the dead was a victim of public justice. After the accident, the teenager entered the dala-dala where he "finished off" those that weren't already dead and subsequently stole jewelry, wallets, etc. He was caught in the act and as often happens in Tanzania's corrupt police society, the public acted as judge, jury, and executioner; they beat him to death. Nor more powerful image exists in my head than the initial sight of 25 uncovered bodies lying together lifeless. Crushed skulls, mangled legs, blood... You may see similar events in photos or on television but there is nothing like seeing it in person, the smells, lukewarm bodies, and grotesque body parts of death. Often, I wish that I stayed back like many others did that day, but if anything, it taught me how fragile life is.

Number 4, Watching a lioness tend to her rambunctious cubs during sunset in Serengeti National Park. If you haven't realized already, wildlife will be a strong theme in this list. Just as we arrived, the male cub began tormenting his sleeping mother by pawing and biting her tail. Eventually, he frustrated her enough that she woek to bathe him and his sister. Once bathed, the family crossed the rock outcropping to collect the final rays of sunshine before night began. Lit by the setting sun, we watched them play, rest, and just be cats atop their family mountain.

Number 5, Hopping the temple ruins of Beng Mealea. Angkor Wat is one of the seven manmade wonders of the world but it was Beng Mealea that captured our hearts. The temple ruins are rarely visited and completely free to exploration at your own risk. This is the closest I'll get to Spanish conquistadors discovering Mayan, Incan, or Aztec ruins, French explorers discovering Angkor monuments, or everybody's favorite tomb raider, Indiana Jones. Exploring hallways closed off by rubble, climbing atop high walls to orientate, and swinging across a vine to cross fallen stone were unforgetable.

Number 6, Two days off the beaten tourist trail in Vietnam. From Buddha worship to maniac bus drivers to getting whacked in the back of the head, these days were a constant adrenaline rush from start to finish. No consecutive days on the trip compare.

Number 7, Training at Lanna Muay Thai. I've dreamed of dedicating myself to a sport for six month to a year. How good could I get? Where would it lead? To get just a taste, I spent a week training at Lanna Muay Thai in Chiang Mai, Thailand. The training sessions were tough and those club members that were serious were incredible athletes. I was bruised and battered when my week ended, but I learned a ton and walked away proud of my little progress.

Number 8, Seeing my wife's motherly instincts shine at Nkoaranga orphanage. Laura generally doesn't warm up to children quickly and sometimes I've wondered if she likes them at all. When she started telling stories about Housseini every evening at the volunteer house, it was obvious the child had touched her heart. She had taken him to his first physical therapy sessions to learn how to walk and was working with him daily to improve. By the time I visited the orphanage with her, he was taking two or three steps before getting caught by Laura. I played with 10+ kids aged 1-5 as Laura whipped through dirty diaper after dirty diaper, helped feed the kids, and arbitrated toy fight after toy fight. In the end, though, it was Housseini who got the most attention; his affection for Laura was so great, he would attack her with hugs when she arrived and shed tears when she left. Hopefully, the abandoment of volunteer after volunteer hasn't affected Housseini's incredibly exuberant attitude. The latest rumors were he was to be adopted by an American family, something that is rare for the Tanzanian government to allow.

Number 9, The Murchison Falls boat ride. Our travels have included quite a few boat rides, expecially on the Mekong, but none come close to rivaling the boat ride on the Nile river put together by the Red Chili Hideaway of Kampala, Uganda. The Murchison Falls trip includes an afternoon boating upriver to the falls. The falls, however, are not the highlight. Hippos, crocs, water buffalo, and deer can be seen along the riverbanks for as far as the eye can see. Kingfishers dive into the water. Egrets walk in shallow water. Snake birds slither on the water surface. Fish eagles perch on riverbank trees examining the flowing river. The boat engine is constantly spooking hippos in and out of the water. Their short legs and overweight body hustle along the riverbank splashing everything nearby to escape the spooky boat, quite a sight. This was an amazing view into Nile wildlife.

Number 10, Dragging a deer from the Irasburg, Vermont woods with Mom, Dad, Laura, and Dick, my parents' neighbor. It was 25 years since my father had shot a deer. Despite having to work on opening day of Vermont deer season, he set the alarm early and headed out solo into the Irasburg woods. The result was an early morning call to my mother... he'd got one! We dragged the heavy 2-year old out after looking for it for over a half hour. Hopefully, I'll get a taste of the venison soon. At least for a couple years, he won't have to hear anymore "white tail" jokes.

Number 11, Eating from fisherman stalls at the Forodhani Gardens. In Stone Town, Zanzibar, the Forodhani Gardens is an evening market where local fishermen set up stalls to barbeque the day's catches. Fresh seafood thrown on to a kebab, salted, and grilled to perfection. Add the other locals who make french fries, Zanzibari pizza, and grilled beef and it's hard to select dinner. Bring an empty stomach and enjoy what may be the best evening food market in the world. Don't forget to try the sugarcane-lime juice.

Number 12, Watching a mama grizzly bear forage with her three 1-year old cubs in Yellowstone National Park. It was our last day in Yellowstone N.P.; we were beginning our long drive to Vermont. After stops to watch roadblocking buffalo, a hunting coyote, and two perched bald eagles, we pulled off the road where a man was looking down into a valley. There, a grizzly sow and her three cubs foraged and frolicked in the field for about 30 minutes. We couldn't have scripted a grander sendoff.

Number 13, Swinging buzzed on Beer Lao in Vang Vieng. Nothing can make you feel more like a kid again than tubing down a river in the shadow of limestone cliffs. Add to it the James Bond swings and unlimited Beer Lao, and it makes for a memorable experience.

Number 14, Bathing with an elephant in Pai, Thailand. We were skeptical about the truth in advertising of "bathe" with an elephant. The photos from Thom's Pai Elephant Camp looked more like ride an elephant through a river. To our surprise, Phanom sprayed us from his trunk and tossed us off his back to the riverbed. We kept hopping on for more from the gentle giant.

Number 15, The food of Southeast Asia. Is there any question that this wasn't a highlight? After blog posts about the food of Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam plus Lonely Planet Cambodia's Top 5 WE DARE YOU and the fruits of the equator, it's obvious where my daily thoughts were. From fried noodle to pho to deep-fried spiders, there's something for everyone. Wonder where I can get one last dish of fried noodle?

Number 16, The Austrian adventure with my parents and mother's family. With everyone living around the world, it's difficult to bring everybody together. My mom and her siblings organized a 5-day jaunt through Austria and Southern Germany. It wasn't so much about the sites but more about being together for an adventure. Throw in some Bavarian castles, Mozart, and wiener schnitzel with hefewiezen and how can it not be a great time?

Number 17, Hooping with the locals. Ruhengheri, Rwanda was the first time I joined pickup basketball at the local sports park. That drew the largest crowd of all to see the mzungu basketball player. I followed that up by getting regualar 6 pm games in Tengeru, Tanzania while I volunteered. By the time I left, they had more than 15 regulars showing up daily. Basketball was harder to find in Asia. I got a few games in Hue, Vietnam at a seminary. In Phnom Penh, daily games were play at Olympic stadium. Sports is a wonderful way to bond with locals; it bridges the gaps of language, culture, and stereotypes. Everyone starts equal on the basketball court.

Number 18, Storm in Sant Fost, Spain. Sant Fost is the small town outside Barcelona where my inlaws live. Some of the summer thunderstorms there are incredible and last summer, during our two week there, one of the most amazing storms hit the town. Water flooded the streets. Wind blew pots off balconies. It rained so hard, the drops were bouncing off the pavement. The family gathered on the second story balcony for about an hour as the storm cooled Sant Fost.

Number 19, Motorbike cruising in Southeast Asia. We cruised the quiet country roads around Pai, Thailand. We visited remote waterfalls and coffee plantations of the Bolaven plateau in Laos. We road to Skuon, Cambodia's market to taste deep-fried spiders. Then, we finally flipped our rented motorbike in Dalat, Vietnam. It's been a ton of nerve-racking fun cruising Southeast Asia with our own 2-wheeled transportation; I wish we had done it more.

Number 20, Bailey's stand against leaving again. Last but not least... we have three cats that went through a traumatic move to Vermont. Upon arrival in Vermont, we abandoned them for Africa and Europe only to return 9 weeks later. They still treated us with the love they had always given, and we did all we could to make up for lost time. Then, as suitcases lied on the floor packed once again for Asia, Bailey, the siamese of the group, crawled atop my chest while I read a book. He proceeded to get comfortable and then looked me in the eye. After giving me a good looking over, he slept there for a good two hours. I took this as his way of saying "Don't go, daddy." I won't forget the moment for the rest of my life. The power of a pet's love...

Now, a break from the travel blog to smoke a victory cigar!

Fruits of the Equator

Our travels over the past 10 months have included a lot of time close to the equator. The tropical climate means a constant production of fresh fruit. It is amazing how wonderfully delicious fruit tastes when it ripens on the tree, something that is increasingly difficult to find in the U.S. Daily street markets bring the fresh fruits to the general public,

an outlet America has replaced with supermarkets. Sales of the fruits provide a livelihood for farmers, transporters, and vendors of the region.

The staple equator fruit is the banana. It comes in many forms: the least tasty big and long one like Chiquita bananas of the U.S., my favorite stocky fat bananas,

and the tastiest tiny banana that's the size of a finger. The banana isn't just eaten raw. It's grilled and eaten like a potato. It's sliced up and used to flavor stews. It's fried and covered with honey as dessert. It's a staple in pancakes of Southeast Asia. Finally, it's even used to make the local potato chip.

Tens of different forms of oranges can be found at the equator. This dark green orange from Vietnam was a bit sour but incredibly juicy.

A relative to the orange but much larger was the pomelo, an equator-sized grapefruit.

This was one of the few fruits that both Laura and I loved.

Sapodilla was another that we both enjoyed.

When properly ripe, it tasted like melting caramel. Unfortunately, Laura ate an awful over-ripe one that made her swear them off.

Laura's personal favorite was dragon fruit.

The unusually shaped fruit has a white flesh speckled with black seeds. The texture is similar to that of a kiwi.

An english-speaking vendor in the Ratanakiri province of Cambodia got us really interested in trying his unusual fruits.

He gave us samples of sapodilla, dragon fruit, and tamarind plus he could tell us the English names of all the fruits. We purchased daily piles of fruit from him; this batch cost us one the order of $2.

Tamarind is a great snack fruit.

The hard outer shell can endure rough rides and once it's cracked open, a soft rusty-colored flesh surrounds a bunch of hard seeds. The flesh is flavorful and eating it can taste like a caramel-flavored hard candy.

Some fruits were unusually large. Jack fruit was probably the largest.

I only ever bought one of these because of the sticky slime within it. The slime is like glue and takes days to remove from hands, clothing, knives, etc.

In fact, the knife that I used to open the jack fruit still is not clean from the event and hence, has not been used again. Jack fruit seeds are often sold out of its natural protective shell in plastic containers, a pleasant way to enjoy it. Dried jack fruit chips are also popular and tasty.

The spiky durian fruit is similar in size but not in taste.

It is one of Lonely Planet Cambodia's five WE DARE YOU foods. Laura and I both tried it in Phnom Penh and it ranked as the worst WE DARE YOU food. Locals say it is an acquired taste but just the smell lets you know it should be avoided.

Rounding out the large fruits is soursop and coconuts. Soursops were one of my favorites.

They have a very tangy flesh that is easy to access. Often, it's just too large to finish. We all know coconuts but they're used differently in Southeast Asia. They are often picked very young so the flesh within them hasn't grown thick and hard. The reason being that they are desired more for their milk than their flesh. The milk often ferments or loses flavor the older the coconut gets. To preserve a tasty cocktail, the coconuts are picked and often served as a cheap, flavorful drink in restaurants.

Often, restaurants will crack it open when you are done, and the flesh can be eaten. The flesh is creamy soft and not nearly as tasty as the riper coconuts of the U.S.

Mangosteen was a small, expensive fruit in Cambodia.

It was quite rare to find and prized by locals for its flavor. Its price and rarity means I've only tried one and I can't remember the taste... what age can do to memory...

The water apple is the closest fruit to an apple.

Base on the few time I tried them, they had a texture similar to an apple but almost no taste. It was a lot like burying a supermarket apple that was picked way before it should have been. Not one of my favorites...

For its unusual shape, I was dying to try rambutan.

The strange peel is easy to remove revealing a white flesh that surrounds a seed. The flesh can often be sour which I find tasty.

In a Cambodian supermarket, I found a fruit labeled "Milk Fruit".

It was similar in size to a grapefruit and once opened, a white juice flowed out. The fruit was tasty and seemed to be a member of the soursop family.

My top two fruits are special to me. I bought more of these two fruits than anything else. Custard apple is most certainly a soursop family fruit.

The flower-like peel is removed petal by petal to reveal a thick, juicy flesh. The flesh is very sweet with the texture of a soft apple. You must be careful not to bite too hard as tens of large black seeds hide themselves within. My absolute favorite is longan.

I would often spend an evening peeling the rough brown shell off the white flesh and popping one after another into my mouth. A smooth, hard seed at the center makes for a great "watermelon seed"-like weapon. The taste and texture is most similar to a grape.

Of course, there are some fruits I couldn't identify and I've pictured them here in hopes that someone can. The first fruit has a yellow peel to conceal brown seeds surrounded by sour pink flesh. The pink flesh is tasty but really make your tongue tingle.

The next has a spiky brown peel that once removed, reveals a brown nut surrounded by yellowish flesh. Thre fruit is quite pungent and the flavor resembles that of durian but for me, it actually tastes good.

Finally, we have this final fruit that has a purplish-white flesh.

We found it in Siem Reap, Cambodia and some travelers mentioned its popular in Malaysia.

The equator has so many lush fruits that I've only posted those that I found and those that were uncommon in the U.S. At every market, one could find piles of mangos, pineapples, bananas, and oranges. Their amazing taste make me long for a better process in the U.S. to deliver fruits ripened by nature. And I don't want to live in Florida!

Now, a break from the travel blog to discuss trash in the third world. Many of the countries we have traveled within could be labeled as third world: Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, Tanzania, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Perhaps, one could argue to remove Kenya, Thailand, and Vietnam from the list. There are a number of common themes between third world countries: corrupt government, corrupt police, large divide between rich and poor, poor infrastructure, etc. One I'd like to focus on is trash.

Plastic bags are used throughout Southeast Asia. Everything sold is first placed into a plastic bag for transportation. If you buy a Coke in Thailand, the vendor will fill a plastic bag with ice and pour the Coke from the bottle into the plastic bag. If you buy a single stick of gum from a convenience store, it's still placed into a plastic bag. It's almost seen as rude to tell a store clerk that you don't want a bag; they don't enjoy breaking the routine. The problem is where do all these plastic bags go?

In Southeast Asia, the banks of the Mekong are littered with garbage.

If there is this much along the banks of the 4,500+ kilometer river, how much is in it? The photo above was taken 10 kilometers south of the rare freshwater Irrawaddy dolphins in Kratie, Cambodia. What chance do these dolphins really have? Roadways, sidewalks, parks, etc. are decorated with litter. Does the public care? Do they have a place to put the trash? Both of these questions are good. Maybe they don't have proper landfills that don't contaminate water sources. Maybe they don't have education campaigns to make citizens care about their environment. It wasn't too long ago that the U.S. government led an expensive campaign to stop its citizens from littering highways. Remember tossing that Big Mac wrapper out the window without feeling guilty? That still happens in the third world.

An effort to create a clean community can do so much and we've really noticed. Dalat, Vietnam had employees cleaning daily around the lake. Kigali, Rwanda started a country-wide "clean-up" day where very citizen, including the president, must pick up garbage in their community. Everyone gets a day off to do it! It's resulted in the cleanest city of all third world countries that we visited. Hoi An's french colonial streets had rubbish bins throughout and the garbage pickup service ran every morning.

These were very clean places and they were full of tourists. We enjoyed the cleanliness so much, we often stayed longer due to it. Were these places clean because of tourist money or were the tourists there because it was clean? I say conduct the experiment, clean up your town and see if people will come. It's so rare in the third world, I don't see how it couldn't attract new citizens or even tourism.

The Mekong Delta

One of Earth's greatest rivers, the Mekong travels more than 4,500 kilometers from the Tibetan high plateau to the South China Sea. The river fans out into hundreds of waterways in Southern Vietnam. The dry season land was formed from sediment carried by the river; even today, new islands are created or peninsulas are enlarged. During the wet season, much of the delta's land floods. For centuries, the riverways have been the roads, boats are cars, homes float or are built on stilts; life centers around the river. Agriculture is the delta's number one employer. The area is nicknamed "the rice basket or Vietnam" and deservingly so, as enough rice is produced to feed Vietnam with a surplus to sell.

The delta was once a part of the great Khmer empire. During the 18th century, present day Vietnam took over the land. Since then, it has caused tension between Cambodia and Vietnam. The Khmer Rouge, who wished to restore the glorious Khmer empire by creating an agrarian society, saw the delta as important land to reclaim. During their reign, the Khmer Rouge raided delta villages and massacred Vietnamese people living in the border area of the delta. The Vietnamese government finally could not tolerate the Khmer Rouge's policy and they invaded and overthrew the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. Today, nearly every hectare of the delta is farmed or lived on by Khmer, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Cham people. Some families have ben there for centuries; other fled the Khmer Rouge genocide to find a new home. The freshwater and lush land provides everybody with hope.

Most people tend to join a tour from Ho Chi Minh City to see the delta. The tours take tourists to the major locations using all the necessary forms of transportation: boats, ferries, buses, etc. This can be difficult to arrange on your own. Having had so much fun off the beaten tourist trail earlier, we decided we'd do our own tour. We kept it simple, planning only to visit Can Tho, the largest city in the delta, and Chau Doc, a border town with Cambodia. Both cities were typically included in some of the delta tour packages.

An early morning start meant getting transportation to the local bus station ten kilometers away from Ho Chi Minh City's backpackerville. We were hauling all our stuff but we felt cheap motortaxis could still do the job. Before we got to the motortaxi hangout, we got stopped by a taxi driver. He wouldn't accept our $5 price; we wouldn't accept his $6 price. We continued on to the motortaxi hangout until he ran back shouting "OK. OK. Five dollars." Great, a taxi ride to the bus station!

Despite the prearranged price, the taxi meter was running. This was the first time I'd seen a functioning taxi meter in months; why is it on when I want it off and off when I want it on?

"Where you go?" asked the driver.

"Mien Tay bus station."

"Yeah, Yeah, where you go on bus?"

I really didn't want to answer the question because he didn't need to know but then Laura said, "Can Tho."

"Ah, Can Tho. I take you bus go Can Tho."

"No, no. Go to Mien Tay bus station."

I was worried we were going to get stuck in some expensive tourist bus; I wanted the local bus.

"Mai Linh go Can Tho. OK. OK."

At this point, the foreign language affect took over my mind. I misunderstood Mai Linh for Mien Tay. "OK. Go to Can Tho." Proud to come to this agreement, our driver held his head high and smiled into the rearview mirror.

Two kilometers later, our driver pulled to the curbside of a business surrounded by green minivans. Three to four men ran to our taxi where both Laura's and my door were opened. "Where you go? Where you go?"

We stayed put in our taxi where I made eye contact with our driver via the rearview mirror. Between the "Where you go?" shouts of our doormen, I called out "No. No. We got Mien Tay bus station. This is not Mien Tay. NO!"

The taxi driver called of the doormen and he explained their buses go to Can Tho. I replied that we just wanted to go to the bus station, not Can Tho. We were off again; the meter was still ticking.

We weaved through a major highway of Saigon where two kilometers later a passenger bus pulled from the curb in front of us. Once again, the driver made eye contact with me via the rearview mirror.

"Bus go Mien Tay. Look. Look."

I followed his pointing finger to the rear window of the bus where the word "Mien Tay Ben Xe" were stamped... Mien Tay bus station. "Yes, we go Mien Tay."

"You go this bus, cheap. 4,000 dong/person. Me, already 40,000 dong. Better for you. You go this bus?"

Laura shook her head in disagreement but I was convinced. "Yes, ok, we go bus."

The driver blew ahead of the bus and once it pulled over, he pulled right in front of it. Both the driver and I jumped out knowing we hd to get the bags out, settle payment, etc. before the bus left. By the time we had the bags out, the bus was already leaving the stop. The taxi driver waved him to stop but the bus driver just shook his head no and continued on. Now what?

"It OK. It OK. Another bus come in 5 minute. No worry."

Laura gave me a disgusted look, as if to say "What the hell are you doing?" Somehow, this didn't deter me from paying off the taxi driver and seeing him drive off. Once again, we had no idea where we were and no idea how to get where we wanted... just what we were looking for.

Turns out, the taxi driver was correct. Another bus came shortly thereafter; the cost was a measly 3,000 dong/person. An english-speaking passenger confirmed the bus did indeed go to Mien Tay bus station; we could follow him off the bus as it was his destination also.

At the station, we got a local bus for 52,000 dong/person to Can Tho. It was a large minivan and somehow, we got preferential treatment. Despite being some of the final people to board the minivan, they gave Laura and I the front seat. This was spectacular, as the back of the van had at least one person too many in each row. The ride through the delta was smooth and uneventful. Our driver drove calmly for Vietnamese standards. At one of the reststops along the way, we recognized tens of half-packed green minivans all labeled "Can Tho, 67,000 dong". Turns out our taxi driver really was trying to help; Mai Linh was a high quality bus service to and from Can Tho, just a tad more expensive than the bus we were on.

Upon arrival to Can Tho, we hauled our heavy backpacks two kilometers to a guesthouse that had been recommended by other travelers. The address was along a small, vendor-filled alley and after passing the guesthouse once, we backtracked to the proper address. Just as Laura entered the open-air lobby, a motorbike pulled in front of her. "You looking for room?"

"Yes. Do you have one available?"

"Let me see. Follow me."

We followed the man to the front desk where he asked reception for a key and showed Laura a nice, clean room.

"How much for one night?"

"$8."

This answer surprised us; our traveler friends had told us the rooms were $6. Not willing to haul our backpacks further, we agreed to the price and settled in.

Before we started out to visit town, the man asked if we wanted tour information. We joined him at the lobby table to discuss the local floating markets and fruit orchards. His small boat hire price was 50,000 dong/hour. The tour options included a small boat through city canals to the Cai Rang floating market, exactly what we wanted to do. The price was right as the proposed price in the Lonely Planet guidebook was the same. I was close to signing up when Laura said, "OK. We'll think about it. Let's get something to eat first."

We left the guesthouse where the following conversation ensued.

"I don't like that guy. He's trying to pull a fast one on us."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's a tout for sure. He doesn't work for the hotel at all."

"He doesn't?"

"He pulled up with his motorbike because he saw us just entering the guesthouse with our big packs. He got the key from reception and showed us around. I bet the $8 pricetag is to pay his commission. If we had been alone, they would charge us $6 a night. If we had been one minute faster, we'd be saving $2/night. We are so stupid... why do we keep getting involved with these touts?"

"Wow, I think you're right. I didn't even see that."

We decided at that moment we'd only stay one night in Can Tho and we definitely wouldn't pay that tout another cent; his tour was NOT an option. Throughout lunch, Laura and I were furious about getting touted again. When would we learn? The only revenge was to avoid his tour but at what cost? Would we find anything else cheaper? We decided to visit the waterfront in hopes of dealing with a local boatman.

The waterfront stroll was promising as we started our walk next to the large HCMC tourist tour boats that visit the floating market. We were offered boatrides in them, but they weren't what we were looking for. Finally, we were greeted with a shouting "Hello!" from a small, longtail boat docked along the waterfront. Once we stopped, a short lady with a cone hat ran up a steep paved ramp to the walkway above. Smiling, she said, "Boatride?"

"Yes. Cai Rang floating market. How much?"

"150,000 hour."

150,000 dong/hour was three times the price quoted by the guesthouse tout. My eyebrows raised and eyes popped out. "150,000 dong/hour. Very expensive."

"OK. OK." She shook her head looking down at the ground trying to think of something. Frustrated, she pulled out her stack of dong bills and showed me 100,000 dong. I realized this woman didn't speak much English. We tried to discuss details but we couldn't come to understand each other. That's when I opened to a blank page in my Lonely Planet guidebook and began to draw. I wish I could scan the picture to put it here. I drew a boat going from Can Tho to the Cai Rang floating market and back. I wrote 1 hour to go, 1 hour to visit, and 1 hour to return, 3 hours total. I asked "How much?" She showed me her 100,000 dong note. We madethe deal for 6 AM the following morning and saved ourselves 50,000 dong, more than $3 to make up for the $2 the tout got from us. Wouldn't it be great for Lonely Planet to publish a collection of guidebook blank page drawings with the stories behind them?

The following morning, our independent entrepreneurial boatwoman was just where she said she'd be and we were off to visit the canals of Can Tho.

We could see that even at 6AM in the morning, Can Tho was bustling. We passed under bridges with passing bicycles and cars. We eventually entered small canals where wooden footbridges connected land

and cargo boats unloaded bricks or sand.

Locals bathed or washed their clothes in the waterway. The only item that ruined the Venetian atmosphere was plastic bags.

They were piled along the canal banks, floating atop the water, and jammed our engine rotor three times, requiring me to remove them with a jackknife.

After an hour cruising through the river canals, we arrived at Cai Rang floating market.

Business was bustling as floating market bulk vendors sold to smaller land market vendors.

Salesmen advertised their product by tying them high on a stick.

The market had boats of all sizes, from the one-stop-shopping Sams Club variety that sold carrots, cabbage, tomato, garlic, onions, etc.

to boats our size that sold coffee, coca-cola products, or sandwiches.

Laura bartered first for three BBQ sauce and pate sandwiches.

I couldn't resist the draw of delta fruit and purchased fresh pineapples and pomelos at about half the HCMC prices.

It was a fun hour watching deal after deal go down.

Our return trip showed us the developing infrastructure surrounding Can Tho.

Business is booming in and around the city and new bridges are linking the city to cheaper ground transportation routes. We passed by a number of large tour boat groups traveling to the market; we were proud of our choice not to join a tour as the larger boats cannot pass through the river canals of earlier in the day. We returned to the Can Tho riverside where we thanked our local tour guide for her service. We payd her the agreed fee and also gave her a pineapple and pomelo from the market. She dropped us off close to the Uncle Ho statue, a tribute to their revolutionary leader.

That afternoon, we caught a bus to Chau Doc, a town near the Cambodian border. There, we would catch a boat North to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. During our afternoon stay in Chau Doc, we spent time at the riverside park where locals were out for their daily exercise routines. We brought the pomelo along and were arguing about the best way to open it. As we discussed it amongst ourselves, a group of exercising locals stopped to watch how we would go about it. The one woman in the group couldn't stay put on the sideline and she soon joined us, grabbed our knife, and had drawn and quartered the pomelo in a matter of seconds. We couldn't thank her enough; a pomelo divorce had been averted. The fruit was wonderful.

The boat ride to Phnom Penh from Chau Doc included a short tour through a floating village.

Houses were raised on stilts, powerlines were lifted high above the water, and everyone had a boat in their driveway.

We return to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Laura will fly to Spain from Phnom Penh. I will return to HCMC, Vietnam for my flight to the U.S.

Now, a break from the travel blog to discuss a new form of market bargaining. In Phnom Penh, we've been doing most of our souvenir shopping at the Psar Tuol Tom Pong (aka, Russian Market). The market is covered by a massive tent, but the powerful 40 degree celsius heat of the city makes the market unbearable during midday. Add to the heat the constant bargaining and "Buy something." comments and it can make for a less than ideal shopping environment. One day, Laura felt so nauseus we had to leave. The following day, she was roughing it through another afternoon of souvenir shopping. We would take a break at local drink stands to rehydrate, cool down, and calm nerves from the constant bartering.

Feeling rejuvenated after a Sprite, Laura led me to a stand where she wished to purchase a carved stone meditating Buddha. We examined multiple carvings and selected one to begin bargaining for.

"How much is this?"

"$25."