Week 14: "I'm sorry, ma'am, but your reality check bounced."

Took a fantastic trip out of Hanoi this weekend—lots of stories to tell. After about 3 months in the city, this city dweller needed some fresh air and nature. Went to Ba Vi National Park, about 61 km to the west of Hanoi for two days and a night. Despite my fears for my safety, (see week 5) my companions and I took motorbikes (helmets included, of course!). We drove through the Vietnamese countryside on two oldschool Belorussian Minsk (or Минск in Cyrillic) bikes--L and I on one, and my friend N (who looks like Daniel Day-Lewis but more handsome, and is working on a documentary on the Ho Chi Minh trail) and M on the other. We all set off at 2 in the afternoon, after waking up hung over and frantically trying to get our act together so we could leave at a reasonable hour. The foggy and chilly weather of late-autumn Hanoi had us all bundling up for the trip. As we headed west, all I could think was, “Whoo-hoo!!! I’m getting out of Hanoi!!”

After a 2 ½ hour drive and a Minsk breakdown (the culprit: a dirty spark plug), we arrived in Ba Vi. The air smelled great—a welcome change from the smoggy polluted air in Hanoi. Ba Vi Mountain towered above us, and I could see glimpses of the winding road peeking through the deep green foliage. We came across a cactus greenhouse, and spent some time looking at hundreds of species of spiky plants and chatting up the overseer (Unfortunately for L, no peyote plants in sight).

Went for a drive up the mountain after visiting the cactus greenhouse. I felt the temperature drop the further we rode up the mountain. After realizing that there were no guesthouses further up the mountain, we decided to turn back. Going downhill, N and L turned off the motors and we coasted on neutral all the way down. There was just enough light to see, and my eyes had to adjust to the increased dusk. Without the noisy clickety-clack of the Minsk motor, everything was completely quiet. I felt like we were the only people in existence—gliding around in the foggy dusk. I spoke in a whisper, so as to not ruin the sacred silence of the forest. I don’t think I’ve ever been so “in the moment,” nor have I enjoyed silence so much.

By the time we coasted down the mountain, nighttime had fallen. We checked in a small guesthouse on the mountainside. The clerk led us about 100 yards away from the reception office to a bungalow that looked like something out of the Shining. The rooms had no heaters, so we asked for extra blankets. After dinner, we ordered a bottle of rot-gut Gold King whiskey and 8 beers from the receptionist. She looked absolutely horrified, seeing as though we already finished at least half a case of beer at dinner. Carrying our booty back to the bungalow, we settled down for good old-fashioned drinking card games. (I know, I know, we were supposed to have a detox getaway and all, but what else are we gonna do on a Saturday night on the side of mountain? Besides, it was really cold.) We sat under layers and layers of blankets, ate junk food and played cards by candlelight. When the Gold King was ¾ empty and the beers completely gone, L and N started freaking out about the rapidly depleting alcohol supply. They debated waking up the poor pregnant receptionist to procure more booze and collectively decided that supplementing our buzz was the utmost priority. So L and N set off for the reception office in the middle of the night, crusaders for our ethanol cause. They came back with a box of 16 beers (woof). Things got progressively sloppy after that. At some point in the night (and I don’t remember how this happened), L decided to show off his latest breakdancing moves on the floor. Have posted pictures of the famous L-Stall.

We all woke up the next morning, hungover and the room in ashambles. While cleaning up the room, L nearly got mauled by some local monkeys. While throwing out the beer bottles, I looked out the front door and saw about 6 monkeys running around on the street. I called to L, and he emerged from the trashed room, carrying leftover glasses of whiskey from the previous night. He then had this great idea of feeding the whiskey to the monkeys, and walked out to the street and placed the glasses in front of the monkeys. They actually drank the whiskey, which probably accounted for why they went on a rampage and chased after L. (That and the fact that he looked them in the eye—a direct challenge in the animal world.) As L ran for the shelter of the bungalow chased by a gang of monkeys, I threw open the door to let him in. Once inside, I slammed the door shut in the monkeys’ faces. Perhaps slightly intoxicated, the monkeys left and continued their rummaging of the trash can.

After restoring some semblance of order to the bungalow (nothing could be done about the stench) we all took a long ride up to the top and visited the temple at the summit. To get to the temple, we hiked up what seemed to be at least 1000 steps. I was expecting this ancient temple dating back from the Ly dynasty, where the great Buddhist kings would come and offer prayers to the Bodhisattvas. Instead, I was a little disappointed—the temple was built in 1997!!! The temple itself was dedicated to Ho Chi Minh, and had a guard up there 24 hours a day. On both sides of the huge bust of Uncle Ho hung two humongous bells. After asking for permission, we all took turns wailing on the bells with huge battling rams. The experience was hugely satisfying--the sound resonated all over the mountain.

Coasting down from the top of the mountain, we found our way to a 70-ft high observation deck. After asking for permission from the overseer (we would have never got permission in the US—too many potential liabilities), we started climbing it. Built almost entirely out of metal, the tower seemed sturdy enough—until we got to the top deck. The floor was made out of rotten wooden slats only an inch thick, with only one metal beam supporting the entire floor. To top it off, the tower swayed in the wind, and I was already eyeing the branch I will grab if it did topple over. I’m terrified of heights, but I derive this weird pleasure from the vertigo. I guess that’s why I like rock climbing so much—it allowed me to face my fear without being in any immediate danger. Such a great rush! The view was incredible—one could see for miles around.

After a quick stop for fresh goat’s milk, we headed back to Hanoi. Along the way, we came across an abandoned theatre. Built in a horrible 1980's Soviet-Futurist architectural style, the theatre had the same sad emptiness that one sees with abandoned drive-ins in the states. Pretty soon, some local kids noticed us, and invited us to play a game of pickup soccer in the gutted theatre. For about 20 minutes, the neglected theatre served a purpose again--as a children's playground.

Driving back into Hanoi, I realized just how congested and crowded Hanoi really was. It was not until I enjoyed the tranquil silence of the countryside that Hanoi's lack of space and relatively urban pace became apparent. Its amazing how ensconced I was in my life--I didn't even notice my own city, let alone the world outside. I had to pull myself out of the pastoral rural vacation back to the jarring reality that was Hanoi. My reality check bounced, and I was mentally yanked away from the idyllic natural beauty of Ba Vi.