Ha Long Bay

The nice thing anymore about traveling in Europe or in Asia has been the availability of cheap airline tickets. We have made use of the discount airlines to travel from place to place and really get the most out of our vacation time. There are a couple of issues that we have not mastered with the discount airlines, however. Issue one is the baggage limit. If you have read about any of our travels, you will know that the Rainbolt’s don’t travel light. This means that we have on more than one occasion had to pay an over weight fee in order to get a boarding pass. That brings up issue number two. You can never pay the fee at the counter you checked in at; you have to go stand in line again. Normally, not a big issue, except when you are trying to make a connecting flight, which is the situation we found ourselves in as we tried to start the third leg of our Christmas trip. The flight plan for the day was an Air Asia flight from Krabi to Bangkok. There would be a brief layover in Bangkok and then another flight from Bangkok to Hanoi. We booked the flights separately because we couldn’t figure out how to do as one trip on the web sight. Leaving Krabi was no problem. The airport is small and the staff is very friendly. Our stay in the National park had actually been light on the souvenirs, and we only had one overweight bag. I quickly jumped into the payment line and we were through security and at the gate in no time. Then we sat. The plane was late and a tight time schedule was getting tighter.

We arrived in Bangkok with about 45 minutes to pick up our luggage, check in for the Hanoi flight, clear immigration, and security, and hopefully grab a bite to eat. This would be a test of our airport skills. Picking up the luggage was no problem and we quickly found our way into departure hall. We jumped in a line and prepared for the inevitable speech. “I am sorry sir, this bag is overweight.” Wait, Wait, there it is …Ok. Grab the receipt and head to the pay the fee line, Gina and the kids head for security and immigration and I will follow. I get to the line, and it is a line. Holiday travelers and all their purchases were weighing down the Air Asia fleet. Patience…Don’t look at your watch. Ignore the fact that same family has been at the desk for 5 no make that 6 minutes. Try not to pay attention to the fact that they are demanding to see a supervisor. Ignore the fact that the woman is starting to go through her envelop of travel documents and now has a piece of paper that is worthy of repeated finger pointing. Don’t think about the fact that the counter worker is now trying to process paperwork and talk on the phone. You can’t miss the flight. Gina and the kids are going to be at the gate and they will tell them that you are on the way. No…you have not been standing in line for 15 minutes. That would be impossible. Finally, my turn came and I just handed over the credit card. It seemed to be more of a fee than last time, but at this time, I didn’t care. I scrawled my signature and raced for the security point.

No…another line! Worse, Gina and the kids are still in the line. They had filled out new departure cards instead of using the one that was stapled in the passports when we had arrived. They were filling out the card for the second time. I was filling it out for the first time and we were all hopping up and down impatiently. We all cleared security and looked at the terminal map. The “you are here sign” was a long way from departure gate. In fact geographically speaking the departure gate was the farthest point on the map from the “you are here sign.” We began to run. All four of us. We ran past the “A” Gates, we were winded when we reached the “C” gates, the carry on bags were getting heavier as we passed the “D” gates. The run had become a fast walk at the “E” gates; we all sprinted at the sign for the “F” gates. We just might make it to F16. We could hear the final boarding call at about the point we could see the gate. Another sprint and then another oh no! Stairs we had to go down two long flights of stairs. Lungs burning, sweat dripping, legs aching, we all stumbled through the door of plane figuring we would have no place to sit. The plane wasn’t even half full and no sooner had we set down the plane pulled away from the gate. We were on our way to Vietnam.

As the plane landed, I got nervous again. This seemed like a strange place to find American tourists but everyone we had talked with that visited the country said it was amazing. The airport process was a little slower here because we needed visas. We had our official letter of introduction and the Visa fee so we didn’t think it would be much of a problem. What we didn’t know was that we were arriving in Vietnam on a night of historic implications. The Vietnamese national team was playing Thailand for the South East Asian Soccer Championship. This meant that the television in the break room had the complete and undivided attention of every airport employee. A uniformed immigration official took our paperwork and placed it on a desk, and then she sprinted to the television. Another worker sprinted out of the break room and stamped our paperwork and passports before taking them to another desk before they ran back to the television. This was the process until a huge cry of joy erupted from the back room. The next official simply smiled and said, “Goal,” as he handed over our passports and visa. Five minutes later, another cheer erupted and the dozens of airport employees came from the break room smiling and shaking hands. For the first time Vietnam could call themselves soccer champions.


The Tomb of Ho Chi Min
The drive into the city took no more than ten minutes, but once we got to the city things slowed down. Our guide warned us that the victory would cause traffic problems in the city. We are residents of Lagos, so the word traffic does not scare us. How could it be slower than the Lekki expressway or the Falamo Bridge? We did not anticipate the thousands of motor scooters that would flow through the streets. Thousands of motor scooters beeping their high-pitched horns. Thousands of motor scooters carrying ecstatic fans waving Vietnamese flags, pounding drums, and blowing horns. This was a celebration, joyful and spontaneous. The celebration continued as we checked into our hotel, we could here it as we had our first Vietnamese meal, and it was still going on after we drifted off to sleep.


Cyclo Tour of Hanoi
The next morning the streets were clean and fairly quiet almost like the evening before had never happened. Driving through the streets of Hanoi, I finally felt like I was in Asia. The buildings were small and packed together, but the had the curves and peaks I expected. In Thailand, signs had as much English on them as Thai. In Hanoi, the signs were in Vietnamese. Cars were the exception on streets crammed with motor scooters and bicycles. I felt that I was on a movie set. We spent the day touring the city on foot, riding a cyclo, which is a bicycle-powered cab, and in a van. The whole time I could not look away from the crowds, or the markets, or the shops we went past. Every sight seemed picture worthy. After a day of touring, we walked back to the shopping area to finish off our souvenir list. We had our first bowl of pho, Vietnamese soup. We walked past small restaurants that popped up on the sidewalk in front of stores that had closed. We dodged the streams of motor-scooters that still filled the streets. The kids got in another KFC meal and we finally negotiated with a cyclo driver to take our tired bodies back to the hotel.


A Hanoi Street
Our second day in Hanoi took us to the Ethnographic Museum, where we walked through the traditional homes of the various ethnic groups in Vietnam. The museum is also a popular place for wedding pictures. We lost count of how many bride and grooms were walking the grounds looking for the perfect picture setting. Later that day we made the two-hour drive through the countryside to Ha Long Bay. Once again, the landscape took on a movie set quality. We passed men working in rice paddies wearing the traditional conical hats. Water buffalos pulled plows through newly drained fields, and bicycles loaded with produce pedaled down the shoulder. I wanted to sleep in the car, but the scenery was just too fascinating.


Countryside outside of Hanoi


Loaded Bicycle

Ha Long Bay is filled with limestone islands and columns, caves, and floating villages. We spent the day traveling through the bay on our own private junk eating fresh spring rolls and seafood. The misty weather just made the islands and columns appear more magical. Again, the digital camera came in handy as hundreds of pictures were taken.

We arrived back in Hanoi for New Years Eve. Sam, our guide, said the celebrations would be fairly small and centered around one of the lakes in downtown Hanoi. We walked down to the area only to find a crush of people, street vendors, and acrobats. We walked the lake with thousands of other people watching in the flickering glow of hundreds o paper lanterns set to into the air to drift across the lake. People were friendly, kind, and it felt good to celebrating the start of a new year in such an amazing city.


Family Picture in the Library Temple

Three days is truly not enough time to spend in Vietnam and I would love to return someday. Especially if the are playing in an international soccer tournament. Skiing, dune bashing, scuba diving, snorkeling, tree houses, elephant rides, caves, floating raft houses, the Middle East, and Vietnam not your average vacation.

The expat calendar of social events in Lagos is quite extensive. You have all the school events, and all your major holidays. There are some good restaurants, a couple of movie theaters, and endless time around the pool. The Nigerian Field Society offers trips to the beach, author talks, and art walks. All of these events are secondary to the Trifecta. It is this series of events which concludes this weekend that allows the expat living in Lagos the opportunity to re-live his or her miss spent youth. The events of the trifecta are the Marine Ball in November, The Yacht Club Round the World Event in late November, and the Women’s Charities of Lagos Small World Event in February. In familiar terms, these events are the Senior Prom for Old People, the Frat Party for Old People, and the Talent Show for Old People.

The Marine Ball celebrates the birthday of the United States Marine Corps and the occasion is marked all over the globe. It is an evening of formal attire; tables set with two much silverware, etched wine glasses, and quite a bit of ceremony. The colors are posted, dignitaries are introduced, cake is cut, and speeches are given. After all of this the prom starts. There is a band; they start with a slow dignified song and couples slowly make their way to the dance floor. Most of the men are stiff and awkward, only dancing now in hopes of a different kind of dance later. The women are eager, although it seems that much of their attention is focused on what the competition is wearing. The lines at the bar become longer, the music gets faster, and the dance floor fills. The men become dancers, or at least they believe they can dance. High-heeled shoes are abandoned, ties become loose, and conversation fills the space between songs. The crowd on the dance floor will freeze and watch admiringly the couples that can dance rewarded them with whistles and applause. Slow songs are the same as in high school; bodies pulled tight, arms draped around the neck and hands placed on the hips. The crowd at the bar has filtered down to the true professionals.

The early energy dwindles and more chairs on the sidelines are filled, but no one is ready to leave. The band takes a break and groups wonder to the desert table. More water is asked for at the bar then anything else. When the band starts again the dance floor fills and the energy peaks once again. As it gets later more and more couples drift from the dance floor to their cars, and just like in high school, many of the cars have drivers. And just like in high school, sweaty tuxedoes and formal gowns are tossed aside at the end of a long evening.

The yacht club hosts the frat party. There is a dance floor and a cover band on the lagoon side of the club and booths line the perimeter of the club. In theory each both is supposed to offer a sample of the cuisine of a given country. They do, but the real draw is the alcohol of that country. Baileys on the rocks from Ireland, hard cider from Wales, Gin and Tonics from England, wine from Australia, ice cold Heineken from the Netherlands. Stand in line for a quick sample of food, sure…but nobody walks away without a drink. The Danish booth draws the crowd. The food? A hot dog with crispy onions. The drink? Beer in a can. Does it get more frat party than that?

On the dance floor the music is fast and loud from the beginning. Sweat is mandatory. There are no fancy clothes but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t any ladies dressed to impress. In fact, the naked skin factor is quite high at the yacht club. The dancing is not elegant; it is drunk and fun. The booths run out of food, no one complains, they run out of alcohol, and voices get louder. Then the yacht club bar opens and soon half full red plastic cups are left on every horizontal surface. The dance floor is lit with camera flashes as everyone tries to capture the fun before they alcohol washes away the memory of it. The bathrooms are trashed, people are trashed, and nobody will want to wake up early the next day.

The final leg of the trifecta is the Small World Event. In many ways, the set up is the same as the yacht club event, except this time the emphasis is on the food. Latin America, China, Malaysia, India, Switzerland, the United States, Lebanon, and Israel all serving up their specialties. At the Indian booth, it doesn’t matter what they serve because they have huge bowls of the mint yogurt dip. I think you can put mint yogurt dip on shredded wheat and shredded wheat will taste good. Stir fried noodles from China, shrimp from Malaysia, and dessert from Switzerland with a beer from the shortest line and you have seriously good dinner.

When it gets dark, people wander from the tables to chairs near the stage. It is not an elevated platform; it is a stage with multiple levels, lighting towers, and stacks of speakers. An elegantly dressed couple will take the stage to serve as emcees for the evening. With their British accents mixed with soft Nigerian pronunciations, they will introduce the different women’s charity groups that will perform. All will have singing, dancing, props, and special effects. One of the beauties of living here is that some traditional rivalries will disappear for the evening. The Israeli’s will get the same greeting as the Lebanese group. The American Women’s Group will get the same cheers as the Indian Women’s group. The secret of success for all the women’s groups is not to follow the Lebanese women. Those women can shake it down, they know they can shake it down, and they are proud of the fact they can shake it down. The audience sits in total respect. It is the Talent Show for Old People.

Maybe that is one of the appeals of living here. How many times do you get re-live your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college? How many times do you get to re-live those years on a yearly basis? This weekend is the Small World Event and we will have completed our second trifecta.

We have become fans of some airports during our travels. Amsterdam Schiphol Airport is fantastic. They have a branch of the national museum in the airport. The all-important McDonalds is there twice, and it is easy to negotiate your way through check-in, security, and immigration. Charles De Gaulle in Paris is only a good airport if you like bus tours and really long security lines. The Fiumicino airport in Rome has a great sandwich bar, but not much else. Murtala Mohammed International Airport in Lagos in many ways defies explanation. It is an international airport with two “fingers,” no working arrival or departure board, one restaurant, and a duty free shop that the local tax board has closed. Lines are non-existent in the airport, but mobs can frequently be found at check-in, security checks, the boarding area, and immigration. The airport in Dubai is the polar opposite.

When the four of us and the Teague’s arrived at the airport to fly on to Bangkok we were prepared for a wait in line, maybe a little duty free shopping, and maybe a little breakfast if there was time. We walked into the terminal and were amazed that there was no lines at all. An Emirates official pointed us to an electronic kiosk. We typed in out ticket number, scanned our passport, put our luggage on a scale where it was scanned and weighed. A luggage tag printed out, and a video played on the screen to show us how to put the tag on the bag. Then the bag was scanned again; a conveyor belt carried it off as our boarding pass printed out. Less than 5 minutes after walking into the airport we were on our way through security and immigration, which took less time than checking in. It was a double bonus inside the terminal, there was a Starbucks and a McDonald’s, and so everyone got on the plane happy. We are now fans of the Dubai airport.

We arrived in Bangkok in the early evening and were met with our first picture of his majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej, the much loved King of Thailand. His picture is everywhere in the country: outside of almost every building, inside every building, on every piece of currency, and on many billboards. The Thai people love the king. The Bangkok airport seemed ok, but it is definitely not one I want to run through.


Bangkok is another huge sprawling city, with tall buildings, shimmering lights, and traffic. From the van window, it looked like many other cities we had been in and I was disappointed. I wanted it to look like Asia. I wanted small buildings, packed in tight, with roofs curving into points. I wanted to see bright colors, lanterns, and streets filled with people. We were almost to the hotel before I saw my first tuk-tuk, the three wheeled taxis that zip through the city. We were staying in the center of Bangkok, on Siam Square, walking minutes from malls, restaurants, night markets, and historic temples. The most important on our first night in Bangkok was that we were two blocks from a traditional Thai restaurant that served alcohol. We were hungry after an all day plane flight and for all the fun we had in Dubai, there was not a single beer involved. Spicy food and a SingHa beer was the perfect way to start our time in Thailand.

For the next three days, we visited the water markets, night markets, Buddhist temples, and landscapes around Bangkok. The kids got cozy with a tiger, fed monkeys, rode a train over the Kwai River, and took several rides in long tail boats. We did all of that plus went to a Thai kick boxing match, sampled food from several restaurants that spring up along the sidewalk when it got dark, and got measured for some tailor made clothes. It was a lot to pack into three days. One evening we went to the night market not far from our hotel. We wandered the aisles looking at Rolex watches, Chang beer T-shirts, Oakley sunglasses, silk ties, and anything else under the sun. It was capitalism at its best. Almost anything you could want was for sale and it was all up for negotiaton. Emily looked at everything closely, walked away from several deals, and ended up getting a very cool t-shirt. Jacob touched everything in the market, wanted to buy it all, quickly agreed to the first price, and then said, “But, Dad!” when I said no. He ended up with some sunglasses and a watch. Almost name brand but not quite. The prices right; Jacob made good use of his Christmas money, and we all headed back to the hotel happy with the time at the market.



Getting home involved our first adventure in Thailand. Mary, Joseph, and Jacob piled into Tuk-Tuk number 1. Gina, Emily, and I seated ourselves into the second Tuk-tuk. The streets were clear, the night was pleasant, and the race was on. Tuk-tuk one roared away from the curb with a stylish wheelie and a shout of pleasure from Jacob. We caught up with them at the next stop light and took on early lead after a wheelie of our own. As we raced down the near empty street, I lost my hat, we lost the lead and I swear we were on two wheels as we slid around the final corner. We caught up at the next light and as the drivers revved their engines over our laughter, our driver turned to us and smiled. The light turned and Joseph, Mary, and Jacob sped off, we took a quick left and zipped down an alley. Turned right on to a side street and were in front of the hotel in a matter of minutes. Our driver laughed the whole way there, and was still laughing as we paid him. We were twiddling our thumbs when Tuk-Tuk number 2 arrived to claim last place.

Although we had only seen a small part of the city, we were ready to start the next part of our trip. The part of the trip with hardly anything scheduled, and the only sight to see was the ocean. We left Bangkok and flew an hour south to Krabi where we took a 45-minute boat ride to Phi Phi Island. Coral reefs and limestone islands that rise straight out of the sea surround the island. The island’s white sand beaches slope up out of clear blue water. Thick green foliage and palm trees capped and completed the tropical paradise appearance of Phi Phi Island. This was the perfect place for Thailand adventure number 2: Scuba diving. As soon as we checked into our beachfront bungalow Joseph and I were in the hotel’s dive shop trying to figure out what undersea explorations we could fit into our time on the island. Then it was off to the beach for hammock time. Finally, somebody got it right. If you have a beach, you should have a hammock. The hotel restaurant was on the beach and I mean on the beach. The tables and chairs were set into the sand. The breeze was cool, the beer was cold, the satays were delicious, the sunset was spectacular, and there was not a car on the island.

The next morning Joseph, Emily, and I headed to the quick class in scuba safety. Then we were in the pool to practice some basic skills. Emily and Joseph had become skilled at snorkeling at SeaCamp last year, but they had never been scuba diving. I took a diving class in college but as much as I like to pretend otherwise, that was a long time ago. We learned how to gear up, sink, float, clear our masks, and then our pool time was done. Before we could get dried off, we were on the boat and headed out to one of the bays on the other side of the island where we would dive around the base of one of the limestone columns. Emily was no sooner in the water when she was headed down to check out the fish. Joseph, the guide, and I followed her into the warm, clear, water filled with fish. I had forgotten how beautiful and calm it was to dive, and in warm water, it was even better. We swam around the base of the column and saw clown fish, a moray eel, and beautiful coral. Despite the regulators in our mouths, we were all smiling. Over the next couple of days, we made two more dives and made a snorkeling trip around the island on a long tail boat. It was a great couple of days and Joseph and I got our scuba certification for a souvenir.


The next stop on the tour was the Khao Sok National Park, an hour and a half north of Krabi. This would be our Christmas stop and it would provide a few more adventure opportunities. The national park is true jungle, and we would have the chance to do some hiking, float the Sok river, and the coolest part of all; stay in a tree house. Jacob thought that since we didn’t have a Christmas tree, we could at least have a tree in the house. The Khao Sok area was beautiful, and we enjoyed all of our activities included a ride through the jungle and a rubber tree plantation on the back of an elephant on Christmas morning. The kids swam, and made friends with another family that was staying at the same place. We spent a morning hiking through the jungle to see a rafflesia kerrii in bloom. The flower is huge up to three feet across, and it only blooms once a year. Although we spend a lot of time outside in Lagos, it is not really like being out in nature. The burning garbage, constant traffic, and huge quantities of litter always remind you that you are in the city. It just felt good to be out and walking down a trail with trees and birds. The day usually ended with a trip down to the river to watch the monkeys come out of the jungle to drink and eat from one of the trees near the dining hall.






The day after Christmas we packed up and headed to Cheow Lan Lake. Once again we found ourselves on a long tail boat, which might be the coolest form of transportation every invented. It is a traditional Thai boat that has a car engine mounted on a rotating bezel. A long pipe extends from the engine and at the end is a propeller. The driver has another long pole off the front of the engine that he uses to raise and lower the prop, as well as push it from one side to the other to steer. It just looks way cooler than the average outboard motor. Cheow Lan Lake is a reservoir that extends 28 kilometers up the Khlong Saeng River Valley. At places, the limestone hills rise straight out of the water and limestone columns are scattered throughout the lake. The long tail boat took a 40-minute trip up the lake to a string of bamboo huts floating across a small cove. This would be our home for the next two nights. From our floating hotel rooms we could take kayak trips across the lake to look for gibbons and great hornbills. We could sit on the porch and read in the afternoon sun and when we got to hot we could dive into the lake. The power went off at 10 at night and we could listen to the silence blow across the lake.



During the day, we explored limestone caves with stalactites and stalagmites. We walked down a jungle trail that was lined with tarantula homes. At the end of every evening there was bowls and platters filled with Thai food. Not a luxury hotel vacation, but it certainly was an incredible experience.