(These events took place January 4, 2009.  Cat Ba Island to Hai Phong to Thai Binh.  130 km.)

Very early in the morning, my new friend Zoom and I left the hotel on Cat Ba Island where I stayed and he worked and drove the Fonda 30 km to catch the high speed hydrofoil to the mainland port of Hai Phong.  Zoom had decided to accompany me to Hai Phong for two reasons: to help me find a reputable garage to fix the brake and gas leak problems on my motorbike and to show me the wild and wacky animal market whose reputation for interesting and illegal animal sales spread far beyond the port itself.  

I wasn’t sure what we would see at the animal market, but no matter how interesting or exotic, the thing that held the greatest fascination for Zoom were the chicken fights.  He loves every aspect of chicken fights and was anxious to introduce me the “sport.”  “Some chickens have good kung fu,” he said in all seriousness.  I confess I wasn’t too keen on seeing two chickens maul each other to death, but learning what exactly constituted “good chicken kung fu” did intrigue me a bit.  

The hydrofoil that transported us to Hai Phong was at the opposite end of the spectrum from the slow, clunky, old-lady-and-vegetable-packed boat that the Fonda and I had taken from Hai Phong to arrive in Cat Ba in the first place.  This boat was new, smooth and fast.  I would be willing to swear on a stack of bibles that once the hydrofoil started, it never touched the water but merely hovered above it during the thirty minute ride.  This was light-speed transportation compared to the three hour slow boat I’d taken previously. 

During my five day stay on Cat Ba, I had been giving much thought and energy to my recently broken heart.  Eric and I had discussed the idea of rejoining forces for the motorbike tour after taking a few days apart, both in the Ha Long Bay area.  After taking that time, however, I knew I still needed time and space to allow my heart to fully heal and sent Eric an email to that effect.  As I flew across the water headed toward Hai Phong, I counseled myself to take this opportunity of high speed travel to leave my broken heart on Cat Ba and not to look back.  And for once, I took my own counsel.  

the Fonda on the operating table

Zoom and I arrived at the port about 15 km outside of Hai Phong and started making our way into town.  We were happily discussing chicken kung fu and what new dish Zoom would introduce me to for breakfast when the Fonda apparently grew bored with our discussion and quit.  Just like that.  She wouldn’t restart either.  Uppity Chinese bike.  

We pushed her about 1 km to the closest xe may (Pronuouced “say my” or “see my” depending which part of the country you’re in.  In case you forgot, that means mechanic. Don’t worry, after a few more blog entries, I’m sorry to say that you’ll recognize “xe may” without prompting.) who gave the battery a jump start and sent us on our way for a measly 5,000 dong ($0.30).  Five minutes later, the Fonda again voiced her objections.  I didn’t have the patience to find a xe may jump start every five minutes so instead we flagged down a small truck and loaded the Fonda up in the back for a tow.  We didn’t have straps to tie her securely into place so the truck driver took it slow, but I held my breath with each turn or big bump that we encountered.  

I let my breath out when we pulled up in front of a real garage.  This place practically had a pit crew of mechanics on staff.  They had about seven platforms which I called the motorbike operating tables and, as Zoom had promised, they stocked parts upon parts upon parts.  Hallelujah!  I had entered motorbike mechanic heaven!  Surely if anyone could fix the won’t-start-won’t-keep-going problem, it was these guys.  I felt great confidence as they rolled the Fonda up onto the operating table and began to look inside.

While we were waiting for the diagnosis, Zoom and I walked across the street to grab some breakfast.  For this meal, he wanted to introduce me to a Hai Phong specialty.  Noodle soup is a favorite of the Vietnamese for breakfast.  Most of the time, it contains chunks of pork or beef along with the noodles and broth.  Hai Phong, however, is apparently famous for a type of noodle soup called banh da cua (pronounced “bine da qua”) in which ground up crab meat is used for the broth and there are fish chunks in the soup instead of pork.

banh da cua

There are certain protocols to eating in Vietnam.  The first thing you do once your food arrives is to take the toilet paper, kleenex or squares of wax paper sitting on the table in lieu of real napkins and wipe down your chopsticks and your spoon.  Failure to do so will draw disapproving looks from fellow diners.  One doesn’t eat noodle soup of any kind without first squeezing in lime juice and then adding chili sauce and garlic sauce.  I was well practiced because of my experience with pho and Zoom nodded his approval as I observed the pre-noodle-slurping ritual.  With chopsticks in one hand and a Vietnamese spoon (like the short fat Chinese spoons) in the other, I dug into my banh da cua.  Oh man was this ever good!  It was spicy and flavorful and I garnered brownie points from the locals at the communal table when I pronounced it to be ngon (delicious) - at least that’s how I interpreted their giggles.

Bellies full, Zoom and I waddled back over to the garage.  The Fonda was still being examined so we pulled up chairs and waited.  Zoom took the opportunity to take a hit from the thuoc lao (pronounced took now), a tobacco’d water pipe that is ubiquitous in North Vietnam, but is mysteriously absent the further south one travels in the country.  Every restaurant, tea shop and apparently garage in the North have one.  They are about two feet long, three inches around and made of wood.  The pipes are kept in a bucket under a table and are considered communal and available for anyone to use.  The tobacco is always complimentary.   Zoom tells me that the effects are quite strong and that you can get drunk from smoking, but the buzz only lasts for 5 or 10 minutes.   I tried smoking one once, but it had no effect on me.  

After a bit, the mechanics announced that they had figured out the Fonda’s problem.  I was never clear what the original diagnosis was, but mechanics are all Greek to me anyway (a deficiency which I plan to remedy once I’m back home).  Zoom seemed satisfied that they were onto the right solution so we hopped on moto-taxis in search of some good displays of chicken kung fu while the repairs were underway.  

Because of all the delays due to the Fonda’s temper tantrums, it was already 1 pm by the time we arrived at the animal market.  As we wandered through,  I saw many different sizes of turtles for sale; some for pets and some for soup. There were ducks of many ages and sizes ranging from eggs to adults and all stages in between.  In fact, it seemed that all of the animals for sale came in all stages and sizes.  After five minutes, Zoom announced that we had missed the best of the market which starts around 6 am and ends by 11.  “Stupid motorbike,” I sputtered.  “It’s Chinese,” he responded.  

ducks of all ages and stages

Against all odds, Zoom held out hope that a few chicken fights might still be underway.  I was secretly relieved to see that all the winners of the morning’s matches were already tucked under their proud owners arms or locked away in their bamboo baskets all on their way home.  Disappointed, Zoom settled for showing me the fighting chickens that were for sale.  As in the case of the ducks and turtles, people were selling baby fighting chicks that still had their fuzz, the molting adolescents (puberty is apparently ugly no matter your genus, phylum or species) and the full fledged adults.  

In the same way that many American men like to flex their muscles by displaying a knowledge of cars or sports, Vietnamese men take great pride in knowing how to select a good fighting chicken.  At first, Zoom and I observed the testosterone-charged man-meets-chicken machismo from the sidelines, but after 5 minutes, he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to jump into the fray.  It’s just one more thing about Asia that makes me laugh.  

Zoom reluctantly dragged himself away from his beloved chickens to show me the remains of the market.  Puppies, kittens, cats and dogs galore were for sale.  Given the overcrowded conditions of many of the baskets and cages, I was at first afraid that my furry favorites were being sold for that night’s dinner.  Only ten minutes before when we were still in the chicken section, I heard Zoom say, “Look. Someone just killed a cat.” I let that go in one ear, out the other and refused to turn my head in the direction he was pointing.  I couldn’t escape from the sound of a meat cleaver on the chopping block though. Apparently and oh-so-thankfully, the cats and dogs I saw in the cages were all being sold as pets (Or maybe Zoom just took pity when he discovered my hypersensitivity to these particular tail wagging and paw licking critters.  If so, I was happy to believe the lie.) 

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according to the seller, this chicken has good kung fu. lol

After the cats and dogs, we saw monkeys and many many different kinds of birds.  To my knowledge, none of the animals I saw were endangered or being sold illegally.  But as Zoom had pointed out, we were catching the market’s dregs so it’s possible that the rarer animals had already been sold or taken back home.  

Eventually, all the sellers packed up their wares to head home so we took our cue to head back to the garage and check on the results of the Fonda’s outpatient surgery.  The mechanics reported that she was ready to go.  Starter and keeper-going thingy (Yes, yes! I recognize my deficiency here!) were fixed.  Brakes were repaired.  The gas leak wasn’t fixable, but they advised that if I only put 40 to 50,000 dong worth of gas ($3) at a time instead of filling the tank up to the top, the leak wouldn’t occur.  Fine - I could live with that.  The repairs totaled 450,000 dong (about $26).  

It was now 3 pm.  I had been planning to drive 150 km that day.  There was no way that I would make it to Ninh Binh before dark. 

“You know, I have a few days off from work,” Zoom started. “After all that’s happened with the bike and the late time, I’m concerned about you driving to Ninh Binh on your own.  How about if I come with you that far and then I’ll just take a bus a home?  If we leave now, we won’t make it before dark, but I think we can get there tonight.  What do you think?”  

“I think you’re a doll, Zoom.  That sounds great.” 

So we loaded up the Fonda and headed out of town.  Five km from the mechanic, the Fonda let us know that all was still not completely right.  Ugh, ugh, ugh!  We headed back to the mechanic and, an hour later, with a few more parts changed out, we were on our way one more time.  

Riding on the motorbike instead of driving was quite advantageous from a photographic standpoint.  From the back of the motorbike, I was able to photograph so much more than if I had been driving.  The everyday life types of things I like to document often involve people. Because people rarely sit still, most of these compositions come and go in a matter of seconds … often longer than it takes to stop a motorbike and grab the camera.  Because I never had to put the camera down, I was able to capture many more of these moments.  

someone's getting a new washing machine

Zoom was fabulous to ride with.  He had a keen sense of the kinds of things I liked to photograph and not only pointed potential subjects out to me, but drove in such a way that maximized my opportunity to capture them.  His absolutely thrived when either of us spotted an overloaded motorbike carrying interesting cargo.  “I can catch them for you!” he would exclaim like a happy child. “I can drive very fast!”  

After a few practice rounds of “catching motorbikes,” we became quite a team.  He knew that I preferred to get one shot from behind, one from the side and one from the front.  He learned how much distance I needed between our bike and the subject bike for an optimal shot and, unless safety kept him from doing so, did his best to accommodate me.  He also went above and beyond by talking to the drivers as we approached.  He would not only get them to look at us, but whatever jokes he told them often made them smile for the camera.  

Zoom enjoyed reviewing the day’s photos with me in the evenings and early on noticed that I would often catch the Fonda’s mirrors in the corners of my shots.  I was touched the next day that he began folding the mirrors in when I was shooting so that they weren’t an obstruction to my shots.  He seemed to take as much joy in helping me get the shots as I got from taking them.  When he would ask, “Did you get it?” what he was really saying was, “Did WE get it?”  He never lost patience on the occasions when I told him I didn’t and asked for another pass.  He would just rev the engine and catch the subject bike all over again.  This was the most fun I’d had behind the camera since I arrived in Vietnam.  Half of the fun was being able to control the shot from a moving bike more than I had when hiring non-English speaking moto drivers, but I think just as much of the fun came from having a partner with whom I could enjoy it.

Zoom also loves to sing. Apparently, the Vietnamese have folk songs about many parts of the country.  As we drove toward Ninh Binh, he sang songs to me about that province.  I couldn’t understand a word of them, but I thoroughly enjoyed hearing them as well as the sweetness of the moment as he sang without inhibition.  

a very heavy looking load of bricks

Although it was a surprise to Zoom-the-perpetual-optimist, it was no surprise to me that, leaving Hai Phong at 4 pm, we did not make it all the way to Ninh Binh that first night.  We did make it a respectable 100 km to Thai Binh though, arriving at 8 pm.  The freezing cold, the dark and the long drive zapped our energy and it was all we could do to drag ourselves to dinner after thawing ourselves out with hot showers.  

I’m convinced that riding a motorbike adds a 20 degree wind chill factor to the actual temperature … and the temperatures in North Vietnam in early January were already cold.   To counter the biting air, I routinely biked wearing three pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, boots, three shirts, a sweater, two winter coats and leather gloves. Seriously.  I looked like the Michelin man, but I didn’t care.  Even then, I would still get cold. 

Virtually all Vietnamese homes, restaurants, shops and hotels are all open-air … even in winter.  They don’t heat their homes or building interiors - probably because they can’t afford to.  With the temperatures and wind chill factor so cold, heat and the ability to get warm became a major point of interest and priority for me.  Although many hotels would tell me their rooms were heated, in reality they only had air conditioners whose thermostats could be set at 30 degrees celcius (that’s 86 F).  Theoretically, that should work but try running your a/c at 86 and see if it feels the same as running your heater at the same temperature.  It doesn’t work.  Hot water became my best friend over the next month until I reached Hoi An.  Fortunately for our friendship, Zoom also detested the cold and shared my sensitivity to it.  He was equally adamant about checking the hot water in a room before we actually agreed to take it as many hotels will often say they have hot water, but don’t.  (My insistence on checking such things has driven some people crazy in the past.)  

in the Vietnamese trinity, Uncle Ho rules

Luckily, the hotel we found in Thai Binh had water so hot, I could only tolerate what they considered “warm.”  After we had defrosted from our bike ride, we went out to find the only remaining restaurant open in this tiny little town.  It happened that the family that owned the place was Catholic, evidenced by the pictures of Jesus and Mary on their wall.  I couldn’t help but notice that in between those pictures and raised slightly above them hung a picture of Ho Chi Minh.  I giggled at what I dubbed the Vietnamese trinity.  Truly, Uncle Ho is considered a god here.  

The Vietnamese are amazingly friendly and curious people.  It was the rare occasion that Zoom and I could enter a restaurant or coffee shop and leave without having been invited to join a group for dinner, tea, coffee, wine or at least just chatter.  I don’t know if that would have been the case if Zoom were traveling by himself or with a Vietnamese woman, but people were definitely curious about the foreigner in their midst.  Zoom later told me that traveling with me meant the end of full meals for him as he invariably had to talk for and translate to me.  

It had begun earlier that day when we stopped for a “bum break” and the family that owned the coffee shop engaged us in conversation.  That night, while we were waiting for our dinner, the Catholic family entertained us.  After asking all kinds of questions about me, the man told us that he had served in the Vietnam military in Cambodia for ten years and told us stories about his travels there.  The lady and her sister kept asking  jokingly (I think!) for my coat.  The Vietnamese holiday, Tet, was fast approaching and getting new clothes for Tet is considered to bring good luck for the year. 

The Vietnamese are also very tactile.  Even grown adults, including men, will touch my hair inspecting each braid.  They’re fascinated by all things foreign to them … my hair, my skin, my full bottom.  They can’t seem to resist patting my bottom (this is primarily the women although one man apparently found it irresistible too).  One woman even felt up my breasts before I knew what was happening!  It’s all in good fun and laughter accompanies it all.  I’m fine with the hair touching and cheek pinching (as in my face cheeks), but beyond that gets a little weird for me. 

After a bit of chatting and hair inspection, our dinner arrived and Zoom and I chowed down on buffalo, frog and eel.  It was a delightful and different start to a new kind of adventure.

Total cost of motorbike repairs to date:  1,180,000 Dong ($69)

Number of road days without motorbike repairs:  0/6

If you’d like to see more photos from the road and of the Hai Phong animal market, check out the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of my blog.

If you’d like to visit the Hai Phong animal market and learn about “good chicken kung fu,”  click here  to see my video.