Life's Too Short

After returning from Siem Reap, we explored Saigon with Brian and Ariana during their last two days in Vietnam and stayed at the 5 star Hotel Nikko Saigon, a Japanese franchise. It’s way more fun to visit Saigon as a tourist than to live like a local!

Roasted suckling pig with deep fried sweet buns (Brian had no qualms about eating a baby pig because he was sure that it wouldn’t have a good life if it continued to live)

This bed was heavenly

The Japanese sure know how to run a hotel

Even the free toiletries were bomb-ass

Bun Bo Hue (spicy beef noodle soup) — my favorite!

Brian and Ariana enjoying sweet tofu dessert

I was not at all interested in visiting Cambodia, despite Tom’s repeated attempts to persuade me. The temple complex of Angkor Wat was supposed to be breathtaking but I was more swayed by something I saw on the Food Network about rotting, putrid shellfish sold for consumption in Cambodia. I’m primarily motivated by food when choosing travel destinations, so I was like, “HELLS TO THE NO” to Tom. Then Brian and Ariana expressed an interest in touring Angkor Wat during their trip to Southeast Asia and I was like, “Okay, fine.”

I’m glad I accommodated my friends, if not my husband. We spent two nights in Siem Reap and a day and a half touring Angkor Thom (consisting of Bayon Temple, the terrace of Leper King and the Elephant Terrace), Phnom Bakheng, Prasat Kravan, Pre-Rup, Preah Khan, Ta Phrom, and of course, Angkor Wat. The food lived down to expectations (tasted like bland Thai food to me) but the ancient temples were indeed breathtaking and well worth the trip.

Welcome drinks at Bunwin Boutique Hotel

Terrific value at $60 a night

Taking a tuk tuk to dinner on the first night

Tom pulling an Indiana Jones

Tom always enjoys a good boob in the eye

Best part about trekking all day is a foot massage at the end

About to get our foot massage on

I only included some highlight photos in this post for fear of crashing my blog. The full album can be found here:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5943405222618968417?authkey=COSAu8SLsJTJzQE

Being the teeniest, tiniest bit of a control freak, I prepared a 12 page master itinerary for our travels, which mapped out most of our meals. Every meal is an opportunity, and I hate wasting a single one. I would never schedule a fast food stop in Asia, but due to unforeseen logistical delays and hiccups (e.g. our flight to Siem Reap was cancelled), we ended up having to grab Burger King at the airport. Brian and Ariana didn’t seem to mind (and I secretly enjoyed it more than I care to admit).

Although Phan Thiet is known for its luxury beach resorts, we don’t exactly get the luxury experience when we’re hanging out with Tom’s relatives. Hanging out with rich white people — totally different story.

Most expensive 5 star luxury resort in Phan Thiet goes for about $150/night — not bad

Not your typical VN bathroom

Yummiest bread basket EVER

Scrumptious breakfast every morning

Champa ruins in Phan Thiet

Tom really enjoys a complimentary fruit plate

Local fishermen at the beach

Bloody Mary poolside? Why, don’t mind if I do…

Technically Brian ordered this pizza; we agreed that it tasted like pizza

The sight of all our hotel receipts knocks Tom unconscious

My SF friends Brian and Ariana landed in Saigon last night, kicking off our whirlwind Asia tour. We’ll be traveling with them for the Saigon/Phan Thiet/Siem Reap portion of our vacation. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep last night. As an introduction to VN, Brian and Ariana got to experience the mattress pad (with me) last night. I hope we’re still friends in 10 days.

I’ve been burning the midnight oil with Tom as he gears up for the start of football season. I stay up into the wee hours with him and sometimes continue working after he passes out with the kids. What have I been working on so relentlessly? A solid month and a half of travel. In the last two weeks I’ve booked 11 hotel accommodations, 6 plane flights, 4 bus rides, 2 round-trip train tickets and 2 tours. For five weeks we’ll be vacationing in 6 countries and visiting Phan Thiet, Siem Reap, Kuala Lumpur, Penang, Singapore, Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Tokyo, and Kyoto. My conclusion? Vacation planning is harder than running a fantasy football website.

I was pleasantly surprised by the zoo in Saigon – fun and not at all creepy, except for overhearing VN patrons exchange recipes while viewing exotic animal exhibitions.

A striking resemblance to a Neanderthal bust in a museum exhibit

To mix things up, we decided to rent a cheap room in a clean one-star hotel located in the heart of Saigon’s touristy backpacker district for a few days. Our first evening out with the kids, we passed by an eatery showcasing pictures of pasta and burgers. The girl specifically requested a cheeseburger for dinner and we happily complied. My mouth watered at the thought of a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a Coke. We ordered 4 burgers and they looked pretty decent when they arrived.

Major letdown. VN people really do not know how to make burgers and fries. Totally under-seasoned and the hamburger patty was disproportionately tiny in relation to the bun. And why don’t VN restaurants salt french fries?!?!

After a disappointing meal we continued down the street and, less than a block away from where we had just been eating, came across a burger bar called “Burger Crazy” which was serving a swarm of Westerners. A good classic American meal is just not in the cards for me.

Person in creepy bee costume

Grotesque (and dirty) character statue at Dam Sen

Kids enjoying themselves at a normal park

I’ve been taking the kids to various parks to get them out of the apartment and to occupy our days in Saigon while Tom works away in Long Khanh. On Sunday Tom joined us in Saigon and we took them to the local amusement park, Dam Sen. Like other VN recreational facilities for children, Dam Sen is creepy. Almost every time we take the kids somewhere in VN geared towards them, the garish colors, tacky designs, and freakish characters make me appreciate places like Disneyland and how beautifully they create kid-friendly environments. Not so much at Dam Sen. As soon as we entered the park, a person dressed in a weird bee costume posed impassively as kids and adults approached and took pictures. It was neither cute nor whimsical, only bizarre.

The good thing about Dam Sen is that even on a busy Saturday, lines and wait times for rides were nowhere near as long as they are at Disneyland. Tom attributed this to the fact that VN people are highly susceptible to motion sickness and therefore too chicken to go on any rides other than non-threatening kiddie ones. I’ve always prided myself on being a bit of a thrill seeker and speed demon, so I readily agreed to accompany a younger cousin on the scariest ride at the park, a giant vessel that swung back and forth until it gained enough velocity to flip entirely upside down in a full circle. I’ve seen versions of this ride countless times although I couldn’t remember the last time I ever participated. As we were waiting in line, I couldn’t help but take note of the grimy condition of the equipment and wonder when the ride was last inspected and if it had ever received maintenance service. With my luck it was sure to malfunction while I was on it. Fortunately, it didn’t malfunction but it taught me a valuable lesson: I am no spring chicken and my days of voluntarily subjecting myself to getting jerked around at breakneck speeds are behind me. The ride was fun for about ten seconds but my initial reaction of “WHEE! I’m still youthful and spontaneous!” quickly morphed into “okay, this is getting to be less fun” and then into “this is not so fun anymore” into “OMG is this ride going to last forever???” into “I think I’m going to be sick” into “I’M GOING TO DIE!!! GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING RIDE BEFORE I SPEW!!!!” I swear that ride felt like it lasted for hours. When I finally disembarked, wobbly and nauseous, I pretended to be fine because I wanted to demonstrate to my relatives that American women are strong, adventurous, and superior to wimpy VN women. In reality it took me a good half hour to recover but I really haven’t been the same since. I think from now on we’ll be sticking to slides and swings at the local park playground.

I got one of my cousins to take me to her favorite local spa in Saigon to see if it would be any better than my other experience. It was a true spa facility in that it was dedicated to massage treatments, unlike the other facility which was primarily a hair salon. Therefore it had proper massage tables with head rests that allowed you to breath face down. Its steam room wasn’t as steamy as the other place but it at least had a faint herbal fragrance. Based on my limited experience it seems like VN spas have yet to grasp the concept of aromatherapy. They don’t understand how much scent and smell can enhance an experience. I guess no smell is better than the garbage and exhaust fumes that one typically smells. My cousin and I chose a 60 minute orange body scrub and a 60 minute full body massage. The orange scrub didn’t smell particularly orangey. It had a subtle medicinal smell that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I’ve never gotten a body scrub before so I don’t know what it normally entails, but I found the whole experience a little unsettling. They give you these paper-thin disposable underwear and have you climb onto a cot and lay practically naked while a therapist pours oil into every nook and cranny and works a salt scrub over your entire body. I’m not a huge fan of nakedness, especially my own, so I was self-conscious about climbing naked onto a cot next to my naked cousin and then having a therapist scrub my breasts, navel area and buttocks while other staff members drifted in and out of the room. It might have been in my head, but I felt like my therapist spent an inordinate amount of time scrubbing my belly, of which I’m especially embarrassed. It’s never recovered from my pregnancies. I see other hot moms rocking bikinis after popping out a kid or two and I just don’t get it. My belly is a wrinkled mess, jiggling ponderously above an unsightly caesarean scar. My bikini days expired long ago with my twenties. I imagined that the therapist was morbidly fascinated with my stomach, manipulating the loose skin with her fingers, rubbing circles in the soft folds of flesh and thinking to herself, “Oh my God, is this going to happen to me?” I wanted to tell her, “Let’s move on, shall we? Nothing to see here!” The sensation of someone who’s not my husband rubbing my breasts and inner thighs, dangerously close to my crotch, was uncomfortable, to say the least. For the massage portion, a girl who looked to be about half my age climbed onto the massage table with me and worked my back, stepping on parts of my body. You know you’re old when you start using phrases like “half my age.”

The massage itself was probably comparable to my last one, but since the facilities were better this time around I had a better experience overall. Better, but not perfect. The bathrooms and showers were dirty with residue from prior treatments. When a 2 hour spa treatment costs US$10, I guess you can’t ask for much more.