Phu Quoc

Our school inexplicably takes a week off in October.  We've known about it for a while.  Over the summer we had high hopes of using the time to wander off the beaten path, exploring parts of Vietnam we ordinarily wouldn't see.  Of course, by the time October actually rolled around, we realized we had about a week before break started and we weren't going to plan a thing.  That is how we found ourselves on a beach in Phu Quoc (basically the closest possible island) at the first resort that popped up on a search of hotels in the area.

The flight to Phu Quoc is short, just forty minutes.  Yet in that tiny amount of time, I learned about my new least favorite thing -in the stewardess's words - "a take-off landing".  As the name would suggest, it is what happens when the pilot decides to abort the landing by gunning the engines and essentially taking off from a few hundred feet off the ground.  Obviously, this is done without informing the passengers, leaving some of them to search frantically for a stewardess so they can assess a.) what in god's name is going on and b.) the stewardess's facial features, to suggest how close they are to death.   Our second attempt at landing successful, we were welcomed to our island vacation by pouring rain because it is the rainy season. Hooray.

From there, our trip had no where to go but up and (despite what you'll read later) it did.  The resort/Eco-lodge was gorgeous.  

Our "Plantation" Villa. Oh, Colonialism...

The breakfasts were out of this world

And, as an bonus, we got to share our space with geckos/dinosaurs that were forearmed size.

Feeling adventurous on our second day, day we rented a motor bike, explored the northern section of the island and quickly blended into the local community: 

Case in point...

The parts of the island we drove through were marked (and marred) by construction project after construction project. It was a disheartening reminder of why resorts exist in the first place and why, once there, people rarely choose to leave them. We had heard the Northern section of the island was mostly a national park, but as it was controlled by the military we didn't actually get to explore much.
 

 

We did find one trail that turned out to be a kilometer long out and back cut into the jungle.  Excited, we set off down the path eager for a bit of quiet.  However, literally a minute after we set off (and what truly must have been twenty seconds after we remarked on how peaceful the forest was) a driver in a parked car began blasting techno music.  It was tragic, infuriating, predictable, and hilarious.  We realized there was no way we were going to out walk his "music" so we headed back out to our bike just in time for the afternoon rain storm.  Hooray again. 

All in all not best morning but we did see this sweet tree:  

Aside from the motorbike misadventure we had a beautiful stay.  We spent our days beach combing, swimming, and pondering how early is too early to order beers.  

The real highlight came on our last night on the island.  After two evenings of rain, the skies cleared and we were treated to an incredible hour and a half long sunset while we ate dinner.  It started off great and only got better.  

  A perfect way to end our vacation.  

Except, of course, it didn't end there...our return flight time changed three different times over the course of a single day and involved turbulence so bad the flight attendants who were serving water literally sat down in the aisle and took cover.  The take aways: beach vacations are great, but we will be taking a boat (or train) on all future travel endeavors.    

The First Day of School...

...was canceled.  And really we should have known.  Our welcome back to school e-mail from our principal included a cryptic line about us maybe, possibly, hopefully having computers at inservice and how we would have to carve out some time to go over our new floor plan. When we arrived at school (a week before we were slated to begin), it looked like we were driving into a construction site.  This is because we were, in fact, driving into a construction site.  Our soccer field had been ripped up, the elementary school (which was supposed to be done over the summer) was/is still missing walls and a roof.  Our own building - which was actually looking pretty good by the end of last year - was completely re-done.  The rationale - they're building for five years worth of growth.  This is ironic because our school is built on a marsh and will sink in ten.  (Or, if it somehow defies our expectations, and history's many examples of why you should not build on marsh, projected sea level rise sinks it in 20.) 

Other construction/planning related highlights that came up during our first few days of orientation: our black box theatre, which was supposed to open last October (and every subsequent month after), is still not ready due to a 400,000 dollar miscommunication about lighting; the flooring on the gym is not here because it was ordered special from Hungary (obviously you can't get floor here); and the laptops for teachers, which were promised at last years orientation but unavailable because they were in customs are, unfortuntely, still in "customs."  At least we have coffee machines.  These only break once a day so we're good.    

Front of our elementary school and our lovely soccer field

Orientation proceeded despite the rebuilding taking place around and on top of us, and optimism about finishing held out for three days.  Finally, through, they had to admit defeat. Funnily enough, it was not the obvious construction that caused the delay.  Rather the basement/cafeteria - which we had been walking through daily to enter and exit the school - was deemed a health hazard due to dust and overpowering paint fumes.  We, of course, have still been coming to school to finish up our planning.   We're slated to start this Monday, and while we can't see how it could possibly be done in time it is Vietnam and this does seem to be how it goes here.   And speaking of how it goes here our internet has been a little slow because a typhoon cut the cable that connects us to the US.  This happens with some regularity, but it's usually blamed on sharks (ligitimate), pirates (ligitimate), and the Chinese (racist). 

New Apartment(!)

After a day of unstructured time in Vietnam, we realized we have NO idea what to do with ourselves in this city when we aren't completely overwhelmed by school.  Before leaving for Spain, we had tossed around the idea of finding a new apartment and, in the absence of better plans, decided to act on that impulse.  We e-mailed a realtor at 9 am two days after touchdown and by 2 pm we were seeing apartments.  Similar to our first experience apartment hunting we were jet-lagged, often confused, completely stunned at decorating choices and wholly occupied.  

We extended our lease for a week, assuming this would be plenty of time to find a place.  We weren't wrong, but one thing we've noticed about Vietnam is that the definition of now (as in "is this apartment available now?") is not agreed upon. For example, all of the following were available "now": an apartment so under construction that we were not able to enter further than the front hallway, two apartments that were clearly inhabited by tenants with no visible plans to leave, one we loved where "now" actually meant Aug. 12th, and the one we ultimately decided on that was available "now" as in a week later.

This was some deck construction on one of the more ready apartments. Not pictured: worker man sleeping behind me.

We had to delay our original move in by a day because the tenants still hadn't moved out (again, now is subjective), so we arrived at our apartment early and chomping at the bit.  Opening the door to our new place, we were greeted by two children around the age of ten.  They had, we learned, been there since 7.  And they were, we learned, along with their mother the ones cleaning our apartment.  Despite it being ready "now" we decided to delay moving our stuff over until the afternoon as child labor is a bit of a downer.

We considered taking pictures of the children, but decided not to exploit them further.  Instead have a picture of our cat (not) adjusting to the move.

We went back to our old place where our mover (organized by our realtor) arrived at his appointed time of "around lunchtime."  He was at least fifty, about the size of the children and, because our apartment complex seems pretty racist and/or classist, he was escorted by a guard for the entire move.  The guard spent a lot of time gesturing sternly for us to hide our iPods, random change, and any other "valuables" that he saw.  The mover was, by contrast (and in defiance of our initial expectations) incredibly competent and he had us out of the old apartment and into the new in less than an hour including a cigarette break.

More of kitty adjusting - she thinks she is completely hidden.  Ours is not a smart cat.

Though our boxes (aka suitcases, backpacks and laundry hampers) were ready, the children were not, so we bought them some guilt Popsicles and soda and killed time for another hour or so until we got the ok to move in to our place.  We finally settled in around 5, realized child labor is not efficient labor, and began recleaning - a process that would end up taking the next three full days.

The adjustment continues

And so, with a minimal amount of blood (kitty has become a gecko killer and, to our dismay, eater), lots of sweat (we have never had to work so hard cleaning in our lives. Also the AC was broken until a day ago) and only a few tears (y'all Vietnam is not Spain and that is sad), we're slowly starting to turn this place into a home. 

The pros: it is big - we have an extra bedroom (everybody visit!) and a completely empty room that we are aspirationally calling our exercise room; it's in a great neighborhood full of random shops, markets and delicious street food (that has resulted in us taking our first course of antibiotics in Vietnam); there is a balcony where we can sit in our camp chairs and feel fancy; and it's cheap (two pay checks cover our entire year's rent).

Aforementioned delicious street food: Chay, a dessert that had among other things corn, at least three different types of beans, all kinds of unidentifiable jellies, and coconut milk.  Visually appalling, but pretty tasty

The cons: we share the place with all kinds of fun (another subjective term) bugs; related to point number one, we have all ingested a lot of raid recently; and we're still not sure if our regular Indian place delivers out here.  It's a hard life but I think we'll make it.  Kitty on the other hand:

You win some, you lose some: that time we tried to go to the Alps, and ended up on a beach...

I began writing this entry from the front seat of the rental car, as we drove through pouring rain.  We had been in Switzerland for less than 24 hours and were already (and perhaps unwisely, given the weather conditions) throwing in the the towel.   The trip began well.  We broke up our short drive from Strasbourg with an impromptu lunch in Bern and got to wander down its small side streets.  We were dazzled by our first sights of the Alps.  Ditto Lake Thun, where we found a surprise diving board and swam. 

And, of course, we were in a German speaking region, so most of the place names and road signs sound like either bodily functions of parts of the male anatomy.  A telling example, Ausfahrt means exit.  We - but particularly Matt - were endlessly entertained. 

Can you spot the telephone poles and parachutes? Oh, the wonders of nature.

All these great experiences on the way in seemed incongruent with the other, more foreboding signs of what was to come:  double-decker tourist buses, billboards advertising waterfalls, and souvenir shops and hotels everywhere.  Once we arrived at Lauterbrunnen, we were shocked by the shear scale of the tourist infrastructure in what we thought would be pristine hiking country (perhaps if we actually planned our trips, these things wouldn't surprise us).  An example of aforementioned out of control tourism, on the one and only short walk we did in the Alps, our views were interrupted by base jumpers, sky divers, cable cars headed up to the top of the same mountains we planned on hiking and - and this really did us in - a helicopter flying about a hundred feet away. 

We used up our stores of patience, open-mindedness and equanimity within about thirty minutes. Then, using our choicest expletives, we decided to leave as early as possible the next morning, cutting our three day trip down to one.  Yes, we are quitters.  It feels great.  Our sad day in Switzerland led directly into an even sadder day of driving across France.  Post Alp depression + 10 hours of driving + no plan or place to stay for the night does not make for happy travel.  Our final days of the trip seemed destined to be a horrible aimless mess.  Then we remembered about the Internet and the fact that luckily, our campsite had it.  

After using our sophisticated googling skills (pretty sure the exact search was "pretty nature things near Narbonne") we learned that we were very close to Spain's Costa Brava.  We splurged on a hotel, left early the next morning and spent the next two days blissed out on the Mediterranean, hiking our way from beach to beach.  

View from our hotel window

Our time in Calella de Palafrugell was one of the happiest accidents of our trip.  From there we headed back to Madrid for one final day of eating, drinking and park sitting before traveling back to the cat - who - if night yelling is any indication, remembers us.  Success.  

   

Goodbye Spain, Hello France

 

Our last stop in Spain took us to Ordesa Y Monte Perdido, a gorgeous section of the Spanish Pyrenees.  After being in such wonderful parks the last few weeks we weren't really looking forward to the stop because we were pretty sure nothing could beat our previous stops, but of course, our outlook changed once we arrived. We were pretty tired after the Picos, so we planned to do an easy hike the first day there, a family friendly 6 km hike through the valley of Bujaruelo. 

After doing the Camino we got in the habit of taking coffee on our hikes - its a nice pick me up while struggling up mountains and, when the weather is cold and rainy, it provides a necessary moral boost.  What coffee does on warm sunny days when the hiking is easy, we learned, is makes you crazy.  See the stream above?  After our coffee break (at the end of the trail) we decided to find its origin.  This of course quickly turned our lovely family friendly hike into the longest hike of the trip, taking us through the valley and up into the mountains.  It was gorgeous, it was painful, it was decidedly not our plan, but the views and the promise of beer and soccer back at the campsite helped us pull through. 

On our last day in the Pyrenees, our luck with weather finally ran out, and for most of the hike the scenery was shrouded in clouds.  

While it mostly looked like the above shot, there were a few moments when the mist cleared and we could catch some views.

From the Pyrenees we left Spain. The following pictures capture our mixed emotions pretty well:

Sad to leave Spain and nature...

Happy to be in a new country, and just as importantly, to be wearing matching shirts.  Our wonderful aunt Debbie - though she doesn't know it yet - gifted them to us for our second anniversary.  We're sure our other family members' gifts and well wishes are on their way.

While we didn't originally have plans to travel to France, our good friends from home were going to be in Europe and we wanted to meet up with them.  Sure, we were in Spain and they were going to Austria, but Europe seemed small at the time.  After two ten-hour days of driving, it seems larger.  

The driving days were, surprisingly great.  We were charmed by the beautiful small towns we drove through (at 5 km an hour thanks to the lovely 18 wheelers), the incredibly friendly people we met and our constant diet of pastries, cheese and coffee, which kept us happy and content.

When we finally met up with our friends, it was in Strasbourg.  We don't know if they call themselves the Germany of France, but we'll go ahead and describe them that way.  Here is a sample of what we did there.  

 

 

 See, Germany.    

In addition to having the tallest Cathedral in Europe (after Notre Dame) it is also home to the strangest museum we have ever been to, which consisted of taxidermied versions of every imaginable animal - including some species that are now extinct.  We're heading to Switzerland soon to hopefully seem some non-dead versions of some of the animals in the Alps!