Comfort

Sometimes I miss the comforts of home especially when it comes to cleanliness, a warm, cozy bed, and a hot shower.  I know I have heating issues in the hills, but I can always count on the sheets being laundered.  I've definitely hit a more rugged portion of my trip.  The last hotel in Hanoi was a dud.  Unfortunately, the ratings and descriptions on sites like Tripadvisor and Travelfish aren't always accurate or my standards are very different than those writing the reviews.  A crappy hotel stay was followed by a twelve hour night train to Sapa.  More uncomfortable than anticipated, loud and turbulent.  The melatonin I took to aid my sleep induced bizarre dreams and restlessness.  When we arrived in Lao Cai, my lower back was numb from hours on a rigid, rocking platform with a thin mattress.  During the hour bus ride further up the mountain, Sapa was initially steeped in fog, but later the clouds cleared and gave way to a glorious summit.  My hotel was less than splendid, another disappointment from the online community.  I looked to find a more suitable accommodation upon checking in, but the spectacular, tasteful boutique hotel, Sapa Rooms, on the corner was booked.  After several other no vacancies I was resigned to staying put in a  room without heat and air laden with varnish from repairs to the lobby doors..  I'm planning on a long ambien induced sleep to prepare for my two day trek tomorrow.   For all of my discomfort, and whining Sapa is one of the most breathtaking places I've ever experienced.  My hike to Cat Cat, village of the Hmong ethnic minority group, was blissful and slow-going due to the many photos I snapped along the way.   I remind myself, being outside of my comfort zone is temporary, as is being on such an amazing adventure.

Artistry

There is a burgeoning art scene in Hanoi, written about in the guidebooks and evident in many stores and galleries.  If you look you shall find a quiet sophistication hidden amongst the incessant horn tooting and street vendors. In Tanmy, a four story boutique selling fashionable clothes, jewelry and home decor the walls were graced with the paintings of a celebrated national artist, Mai Anh.  I fell in love with her subdued depiction of Vietnamese life, and the internal, slightly melancholy nature of her subjects.

Negotiating

I was resigned to hiking in Sapa with worn Tevas hoping glue and a prayer would get me through my mountain trek.  Then the strangest thing happened.  Waking down the street in Hanoi this morning a guy literally grabbed my foot, and expressed dismay over my soles.  He plucked a bottle of glue from a little basket he was carrying and started to take off my shoe.  He motioned for me to sit and supplied me with a slipper for my exposed foot.  "Super glue. Fifty thousand dong and I fix", said the neighborhood street cobbler.  I agreed, the extra insurance was certainly worth $2.50.   Then he pulled a thick thread from his basket and punctured the side of the sole with a pointed instrument.  Apparently, he didn't think the glue would do the trick.  I was feeling lucky, grateful and generous.  As he started to repair the second sole he muttered "900,000 dong for thread and glue."  Forty five dollars!!!  Almost the price of my hotel room for a night.  I've had pairs of boots resoled and heeled at home for $15.  In a country where the average annual income is about $550 dollars I knew this was a ridiculous price.   I replied an emphatic "no".  My magnanimous spirit was deflated, and he was angry with my unwillingness to pay for his service.  Of course I would pay, but I wanted a fair and reasonable price.  I held firm at 300,000 dong.  He wasn't happy and what started out as a fortuitous experience was wrecked by the art of the deal, or lack thereof.

Shoes

I'm a whimp when it comes to cold, wet weather.  I hate it.  My shoulders tense, I look down to avert the wind and rain and have a hard time enjoying the world around me.  Yesterday, this was exacerbated by having the wrong shoes and not enough warm clothes.  So my first goal was to purchase sneakers.  The crazy glue was still keeping my soles together, yes the second one came undone in Hue, but it seemed risky to trek in them in the mountains of Sapa where it had just snowed.  In Hanoi, I found several stores selling Nike, Adidas and Puma, but the styles suitable for my needs were all for men.  The shoes for women were more like ballet flats with canvas and accessorized straps.  The few running sneakers I found were only available in small sizes.  Seemingly women here aren't encouraged to be athletic or if they do partake in a sport they're subjected to improper footwear.   This realization wasn't so surprising given what I've witnessed the last few weeks during my travels in Southeast Asia.  Regardless of the climate women's feet are exposed in flimsy, ill-fitting sandals s or patent leather heals.  This doesn't seem to impede them from riding motorcycles or carrying baskets of food on their head.  However, from my western point of view it appears to be avestige from when women were more inferior to men.  I know what it's like to suffer in a pair of heels for fashion, but this is a practical issue.  In the US my foolishness is a choice, but after scouring the stores for something sensible to wear on my feet I don't think that's the case in Vietnam.

Zen

Woke up to the same inclement weather today, but decided to take a zen approach to sightseeing and learn from yesterday's mistakes.  I had the hotel receptionist get a quote from a taxi for a trip to two tombs and a pagoda, and happily agreed to the $19 quote.  Most importantly, the hotel had crazy glue which I liberally applied to the sole of my shoe.  The morning rain gave way to a drizzle and the wind was at a minimum.  First stop, tomb of Khai Dinh, the penultimate Nguyen Emperor who died in 1925.  Built on a wooded mountainside, the spring growth was wet with rain.  Only a handful of tourists.  I breathed in tranquility in various shades of gray and green.  At the summit, moss covered stone  gave way to an ornate interior mausoleum housing a bronze bust of the emperor.  Khai Dinh's tomb was modest relative to the thirty acre sepulchre erected in a pine forest for Tu Doc who became emperor in 1838 when he was only twenty.  A staunch Confuctianist who oppressed all foreigners in Vietnam, Tu Doc brought much conflict to his people.  However, he often found solitude and pleasure at his burial place, which he designed and had built nineteen years before he died.  I was unprepared for the breathtaking grounds and understated structures.  I spent over two hours walking in the mist marveling at the architecture.  Possibly one of my best mornings in Vietnam.  Icing on the cake, my taxi driver didn't over charge me AND the sole of my shoe stayed intact.

La Residence

Love my hotel in Hue, La Residence, the former French Governor's mansion built in the 1920s.  The well appointed rooms, art deco accents and artwork are world class.  The perfect place to seek shelter on a cold, rainy night.  Tomorrow I will explore more of Hue, but tonight I'm content to snuggle under the plush duvet and recharge.

Challenged

I felt challenged today, by the weather, the broken sole of my shoe and the rickshaw driver who ripped me off.  I awoke in Hoi An to a steady rain, hoping 63 miles north to my destination in Hue the weather would be sunnier.  It wasn't.  In fact, it was colder, 59 degrees, and wetter.  After checking into my lovely hotel, the former governor's art deco mansion, I ventured out in my fleece, rain poncho and disabled shoe held together by tape.  Within two blocks the tape was a crumpled mess on the sidewalk,  and the wind wiping off the river pelted rain in my face.  My plan was to walk near The Imperial City, a replica of The Forbidden City in Beijing, have a hot bowl of soup and call it a day.  Stop lights which should seemingly aid pedestrian safety did the opposite.  At a green light only the motorists on my left stopped, the others crossing the intersection from the right were still able to go making it impossible to cross the street.  I was getting frustrated.  The sole of my left foot flapped with every step, and mud from the wet streets were leaving black stains on the bottom of my pants.  I was cold and wet.  Seeing my distress a rickshaw driver waved me over.  I told him I wanted to go to my hotel and mistakenly gave him the address.  He said he'd drive me by the Imperial City.  I told him I was hungry and just wanted to go to my hotel.  He told me not to worry, he'd take me to a place to eat and drive me around the Imperial City.  One hour of riding for $15.  A taxi would be cheaper and drier, but I went with it.  The cart which was low to the ground and in front of the biker was covered with a woven plastic tarp.  A hole was cut out so I could see the oncoming traffic and the near misses of minivans and scooters.  The driver brought me to a restaurant, where the food was mediocre and the only other diners were foreigners and then to the Imperial City.  I thought we were going to drive by, but he stopped, encouraging me to go in.  I was longing for my comfy, warm hotel room, but again I went with it and joined the other wet purple and blue ponchos exploring the vast grounds behind the ancient citadel.  I wished to be there on a warm sunny day, camera in hand leisurely strolling the grounds.  I admired the wood work, the Chinese architecture, the rooms where kings watched dancers and elephants perform.  I read an odd sign in a room with a gilded throne on an elevated stage "No sitting on throne unless you've purchased ticket for costume".  At that moment a young man adorned in a bright yellow robe, hat and shoes ascended the stage.  He regally sat on the chair, puffed out his chest and grinned like an emperor while his friend snapped a photo.   Even wetter and colder I found my rickshaw driver.  "I drive you to the market and then your hotel."  I knew there was a well known indoor market close by so I agreed.  He wanted to show me some stalls, but I told him I'd wander in alone and be out in a few minutes and THEN to my hotel.  A block from my hotel he stopped to let me out and collect $55.  "What?" He told me we were riding for 3 hours so the fee was no longer $15, but $55.  Actually the correct math would have made it $45, but what is accuracy when you're being scammed.  I argued the sightseeing, the times he was hanging out smoking a cigarette, wasn't included, and the actual riding time was still an  hour.  He dug in and I felt foolish and angry for having a tourist target on my chest.   Defeated, I gave him $40 dollars and walked the rest of the way to my hotel.