Hong Kong, Macau, Vietnam, Cambodia, Transpacific flights

When I had the opportunity to use frequent flyer miles for an overseas trip, I decided to use them to go over a different sea than usual for a trip to Asia in November 2002. Here is a report on that trip to Hong Kong, Macau, Vietnam, and Cambodia.

I'll describe my flights to Hong Kong at the end of this report, and start chronologically with my arrival there. I had studied extensively what to do on arrival; at a transport service center I bought an Octopus Card  for public transit offered by different companies, also good at other places such as convenience stores. I found my way to the buses to the city; mine was the A21. The driver gestured to me how I should pass the card over a scanner; after that I was able to keep the card in my wallet and pass the wallet over the scanner on other rides. I put my bag on the storage rack on the lower level of the double-decker bus, and took a seat on the upper deck with a TV monitor showing the luggage rack. It was close to midnight, and I had a good first impression of HK by night from the bus. When we got to central Kowloon, there was much neon and activity after midnight. There was a recorded announcement of the stops and hotels served in English. As we got closer to the waterfront, the vocal announcements stopped, and we went through the stops on the lighted signboard in rapid succession. Very quickly my hotel came up, I went down the stairs and took my bag, but before I could get off it was two stops late. No problem, I'd memorized the map of the area and knew where the bus was going, so I could make my way back. However, the sidewalk was closed for construction of a new rail line (a prevalent problem in the area; I believe that part of the problem over the stop announcements was that stops were relocated for construction). The sign in English said which side streets to take for a detour, and I found my way with my luggage after midnight, but not without having to free myself from a woman who grabbed me trying to get me into a shady place of business. So I think I handled my arrival in Asia well.

I found my way to my hotel, the New World Renaissance Kowloon. I got this hotel through Priceline Asia; following successful bids listed on the Priceline Asia section of Biddingfortravel.com, I got a bid accepted at HK$360, or about $46 U.S. a night. I’d been thinking about the bid for months; when I made it I found that hotels in Asia had just become available on the U.S. Priceline site; I don’t know if a comparable bid would have been accepted there. Anyway it was a fine 4-star place, with a great location, certainly a great deal at that price. Although my room didn’t have a good view, I could step outside and be on the promenade with a great view across the harbor. Although I found it cheap when I first saw that system in Italy, I found that it made sense to make one put the key card into a slot to turn the lights on; they were turned on as they’d been left, and all lights were also controlled by a bedside console. I think there were three housekeeping visits a day.

After a good night’s sleep, I had my prearranged meeting with Judy, the Travelzine’s expert Hong Kong resident. She gave me a good orientation as we walked the promenade to the “Star” Ferry (as punctuated on the signs there) and took that best way of crossing the harbor to HK Island . She had planned for us to eat at Maxim’s City Hall restaurant, but we found that it was no longer serving dim sum, so we took the ferry back to Kowloon to have dim sum at the Jade Garden restaurant across from the terminal. She also had the good idea of inviting a Singaporean man who worked in the same building, the Star House, to join us. We had a good meal and I learned a lot to start my trip.

I’ll offer general impressions of my week in Hong Kong: HK is a great place to get an introduction to Asia; with English widely spoken and the high-rises all over, at times I hardly felt that I was far from home. The area’s special qualities quickly became clear, though; the modern architecture had its special style and the natural setting made quite an impression. My hotel was attached to a shopping mall where most stores were marked by Western names only, but I found my way to neighborhoods where most businesses had signs in Chinese only. All official signs included English; I’d read warnings not to expect everyone to speak English, particularly cab drivers. I had my hotel key card ready for the one cab ride I took and otherwise had no serious language problems. Even though I was clearly from outside, I was hassled very little compared to my later stops. The temperatures were comfortable; it was at least partly cloudy most of the time, with rain a couple of mornings. I learned from Judy to give cars the right of way when crossing the street; contrary to my experience at later stops on my trip, even if the streets were crowded, crossing was efficient at lights, and it was seldom much of an issue that traffic was on the left. On busy streets, there were numerous overpasses and underpasses (called subways following British usage) to make the crossing.

In large part I occupied my days with the tours listed in the Hong Kong Walks brochure available at the HK Tourism Board offices. They led me to interesting streets while giving me the option to take a detour, in particular to cut the walks short since they suggested very long tours. I ferried to Lantau Island, saw the giant Buddha, and the natural hillsides. With the length of the bus ride up there, I couldn’t believe the brochure proposed walking back to the ferry terminal; it might have been more direct than the road and downhill, but I preferred to take the bus. With the chance to sit down on the long ferry ride, that was a pretty restful day. On HK Island, I went to the Peak and looked down on the high-rises. Given how built-up the “front” of the island is, it was a surprise to see how much of a natural park area there was to hike down the back side. Being interested enough in air travel, I made a special trip to the site of the old Kai Tak airport, where landings were quite an adventure until 1998.

There were museums near my hotel; I thought it would be good to get a museum weekly pass for HK$30 for six museums rather than pay HK$10 per museum (all low prices at HK$7.8 per U.S. dollar). This turned out not to be such a good deal; I went to the Art Museum and the Hong Kong Heritage Museum in the New Territories. I went to the Space Museum just because it was there, and it turned out to be its free admission day.

I initially thought I would be having Chinese, mostly Cantonese, food during my stay. I had some other cuisines (partly because the Chinese style may not work well for solo diners), but I still had a good selection of Chinese food. One curious thing was that even the Lonely Planet guidebook, which one would expect to be more adventurous, mostly listed upscale hotel restaurants for Chinese food. I found out that these restaurants were popular with locals; still, one would expect more regular restaurants to be listed; most would have a menu in English even if the serving staff didn’t speak English. I ate at the Dynasty Cantonese restaurant at my hotel, nice with crisp-skinned meats. The best meal for me was the Peking Duck at the Pekinese restaurant Tai Fung Lau (its address is listed on Chatham Rd., but the entrance is around the corner on Hart Ave.), a popular place that filled up with a local banquet group. In the non-upscale restaurants, prices were reasonable by American standards.

As one with a fair amount of experience in North American Chinese restaurants, I saw some differences in restaurant practice. Napkins weren’t offered except in the most upscale places, making it more awkward for one who is clumsy with chopsticks. Sometimes, even when I looked up from the menu, making eye contact with the server, and it should have been clear that I’d made a choice, the servers stayed standing across the room; I take it I needed to beckon them. A 10% service charge was added to the bill, which I understand was adequate, but when they brought change they hovered over me, putting pressure on me to leave the coins.

A highlight of my week in Hong Kong was my day trip to Macau. There was light rain on the Tuesday morning I'd designated for the trip, but I went ahead with it. I walked from my hotel to the China Ferry Terminal. I thought the crossings happened only on the hour, and I’d just missed the 8 a.m. sailing. I found that there was a crossing at 8.30, got my ticket, and made my way. I faced the bugaboo I’ve complained about when leaving Italy, of slow going through exit passport control, this time going from one Special Administrative Region of China to another. I made it on a close call, and they assigned seats as airlines used to do it, putting a sticker from their seating chart on my ticket. This was a new ferry, not too full, with comfortable seating. After about an hour, I was at the Macau ferry terminal.

As I expected, I liked Macau for its evocations of Portugal and its better sense of historical preservation than HK. From what I’d read, I half expected to find a sleepy fishing village (not quite), so I was surprised to see many high-rises and much bustle there. I’d planned to start on a city bus from the terminal; I’d had breakfast at McDonald’s in HK a couple of days because the prices were clear and I could be sure of having the right change for the Macau bus fare of HK$2.50 (Macau has its own currency, the pataca, which is pegged at a very slight difference from the HKD, but they’re used interchangeably in Macau). The guidebook said buses 3 and 3A were good for getting to the center, but I took bus 3B, which went to the Chinese border, a spot that interested me just to see over the border but also because the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Park was there. I saw over the border (and there were several other opportunities to see the modern skyline of Zhuhai) and I saw the park from a distance. When I walked along the street that seemed to lead to the park, this high-speed street dipped down and kept curving towards China; I couldn’t see where it was going. I was semi-seriously worrying that I would wind up in China without a visa; I gave up on going to the park, and I think I found that it was closed Tuesday.

I wanted to get out of this area of unattractive public housing-type high-rises; I studied the Portuguese street names and found a bus line that would take me to the city center. The rain had let up, and I went to the central square, Largo do Senado, and admired the tiled plaza as in Portugal, and the mix of Portuguese and Chinese influence in the architecture. I climbed up hilly streets to the Monte Fort, with a view around Macau and neighboring China, and visited the Macau Museum, which was open Tuesday (closed Mondays) although many other museums were closed. This museum had much of interest on Macanese history and everyday life. After the museum, I took the escalator down outside the ruins of the church of St. Paul, a facade standing alone making an impressive monument. I started following the walks suggested in a brochure I’d picked up at the ferry terminal, starting with a nice small street with antique shops and school kids running about. I went back to the center and had lunch at a quick-service place, possibly the only time I saw Portuguese people there. Although signage in Macau was in Portuguese, I was always addressed in English.

My walks continued through picturesque Chinese streets, and hilly streets evoking Europe. I started on the walk towards the area of the first Portuguese settlement; the walk got too long for me and sunset was approaching. When there were no taxis waiting in front of the Ritz Hotel, I had them call one. At my destination, the southwest corner of the peninsula, I aimed to have an early dinner at A Lorcha, but it was closed, so I ate at Barra Nova. These are restaurants specializing in the fusion of Portuguese and Chinese cuisine; I had a nice seafood and rice dish. I took another cab back to the ferry and returned to Hong Kong.

My week in Hong Kong came to an end and I was booked to fly to Vietnam. For public transportation between the HK airport and city hotels, one could take the bus or the Airport Express train. The bus was almost one-third the cost of the train, would go door-to-door, and would be more scenic, while the train would be faster. I would have four single airport-city trips, and I decided I would use the train for this one, because it would be my one chance to use in-town check-in; I like to experience different services offered in transportation. I checked out of the hotel at 6 a.m. and went to the stop for the bus connecting to the train; this line was to start at 6.15. It didn’t reach my hotel until 6.30; it proceeded to the remote Kowloon Airport Express station. I was able to check my bag and get my boarding pass at this station for my Cathay Pacific (CX) flight to Saigon. This service was offered only by some airlines and not for U.S.-bound flights. This was an expensive flight considering its 2.5-hour duration and the economic standards of the area; when I asked about it during my planning, Judy’s travel agent helpfully located a cheaper afternoon-evening connection through Bangkok, but I was so determined to take the morning non-stop that I stayed with the more expensive flight. The flight was operated by CX but also available as a code-share on Vietnam Airlines (VN). I believe I paid $3 more to get a CX rather than VN ticket, both because I thought it might ease complications to be ticketed on the flying airline, and because CX was a frequent flyer partner of American Airlines, so I was expecting to get miles. The check-in agent told me that because the flight was operated as a code-share, I was not eligible for partner miles. I could understand this if I had a CX ticket on VN metal (a term favored on Web boards), but it was new to me to be denied credit because another airline happened to put its code on the flight. This rule was confirmed to me at the airport departure gate.

So, I was checked-in at the train station and got onto the train. It sat still for a while, and there were announcements of signal problems. Then an agent came on and said something only in Cantonese; evidently the train wasn’t running and people got off. We went to the bus stop; the single-decker bus they use for the hotel-station transfer (presumably now going to the airport) was full and we needed to wait. Then there was another Cantonese announcement; people were allowed to bypass the turnstiles and get back onto the train; it was running. So I finally got to the airport considerably later than I would have if I had taken the bus, especially since a few of these buses went by while I was still waiting for my bus. I was glad to be checked-in, and I was still at the gate comfortably in time for my 9 a.m. flight. It was my first flight on a 777, reasonably comfortable, with seatback video, and good service like one doesn’t see on a U.S. flight of that duration. The pilot may have been Australian. I took a sausage and egg breakfast; the other choice was pumpkin noodles.

The flight landed, there was slightly slow going through passport control, and I went to baggage claim. There were many huge packages coming in, the flight was unloaded, and I didn’t see my bag. Before I approached anyone, I spotted it; it had been taken off before I’d gotten there. Customs involved putting all bags through x-rays. After customs, there was a big empty room, in contrast with the vast expanse of people waiting outside the terminal. I went through in the direction of taxis. A man asked “Taxi?”; I knew to ask “Metered taxi?”; he said yes. After I showed where I was going, a man with him took my bag to the right, away from the parked cabs. This was an unmarked, unmetered car; I should have objected or at least asked the fare, but I was too exhausted. The ride gave me a memorable first impression of the city officially called Ho Chi Minh City but still widely known as Saigon, so I will use the latter name. The big impression came in the cacophony of traffic, mostly motorbikes weaving around, most memorably with young women in long white dresses and scarves over their faces to protect themselves from the fumes. Many women were wearing the non la conical hats that I know as an icon of Vietnam but wasn’t sure if I would see in the present-day city. I arrived at the hotel and gave the driver $5, which I understood was the standard fare; he said it was $8, so I gave the difference, frustrated at having mishandled the situation but not having lost a huge amount.

The hotel was the Oscar Saigon  on Nguyen Hue Blvd, built on the model of the Champs-Elysees. On Judy’s recommendation, I had used Asia-Hotels to book the hotel, choosing it based on the prices and reviews there and in the Rough Guide book I was using. The hotel looked nice in the lobby and had a friendly front desk staff, but they couldn’t find my reservation. I showed my confirmation e-mail and they said they had a room for me, but I don’t know if they ever found the reservation. The room was a “standard” for $32/night; the window faced a dark shaft, so one couldn’t tell if it was night or day (but it also meant no street noise). It had the generally worn look of the lower-class hotel rooms I remember from France and Italy in the 1970s, but with a private bathroom and television with a great variety of channels: no English-language news, but ESPN and Spanish and Italian channels.

Once I was checked in, I had two errands to run that could have been managed more simply but formed my impression of Saigon as I completed them: getting local currency and seeing about booking a trip to Siem Reap. I knew that U.S. dollars were widely accepted, but I could get a fairer deal with Vietnamese dong (VND). I had found on the Visa Web site that there were two networked ATMs in Saigon. I saw one on my arrival at the airport but decided to stick with my plan of going to an ATM in the city. Looking at Visa’s list after my trip I see that the same two are listed under Ho Chi Minh City, but others are listed under “HCM” and “Ho Chi Min.” I had long plotted my walk of two short blocks to the ATM at Mei Linh Square. Accomplishing it was another matter as I first faced the challenge of crossing the streets there. These wide boulevards had crosswalks, but were otherwise unregulated and I needed to build up the courage to cross. I reached the ATM and withdrew a million VND or about $65. I had heard that this could be an unwieldy wad of bills, but it was in 20 of their largest denomination bills of 50,000 VND or $3.25, so it wasn’t bad. This was an area, along the riverfront, showing the signs of foreign investment with new high-rises. Near the ATM was the entrance to a mall with a food court. I was ready for a late lunch and made my way up a few floors (needing to go past the stores on each floor) to the food court, and an English-speaking manager helped me out, so I could get dishes from different booths on one low-cost bill. CNN was on there; apparently it wasn’t political censorship keeping it out of my hotel room.

So now I would see about a Siem Reap trip. I had in mind to go to Ann’s Tours. The Rough Guide listed it as a highly recommended travel agency, listing it first probably only by alphabetical order, but I couldn’t locate the address on a map. I found buried in the Web site a mention that it was near the Ben Thanh market. Before leaving home, I’d e-mailed them a preliminary inquiry and got no reply. The Rough Guide listed several other agencies with clearer locations, some near my hotel. With all these strikes against it, I still felt drawn to find Ann’s, and the site’s touching story hadn’t even sunk in of Ann establishing the travel agency so she could have contact with foreigners and ask for help in locating her sons who were in the U.S. but she didn’t know where. I would go to the market area and see if one of the streets that wasn’t marked on the Rough Guide map was Ton That Tung. As I walked, I had continuing problems with traffic and was followed for blocks by men offering rides on motorcycles or cyclos (bicycle rickshaws with a passenger chair in front), neither of which appeal to me. It was a pain to get around and cross streets, finding major intersections unregulated and what stoplights there were viewed as advisory. I got to the market area and didn’t find the street. As I expanded the search area, I found the New World Hotel, possibly affiliated with my Hong Kong hotel, and asked the concierge for help. He didn’t know where the agency was, but called the office and got directions; it was near, but I was advised to take a cab.

I got the cab to the agency, and I was advised to have a seat in the entrance area and have tea. Tony, Ann’s son, came out and helped me with my plans. An obstacle in my booking a trip to Siem Reap was whether I could connect to my return Saigon-Hong Kong flight, both in terms of time and my having a used single-entry visa. I had seen for myself at the airport that one could turn towards the transit area without going through passport control. Tony said that I could be booked on a flight that gave me two hours to connect. He was cautionary about it, saying that was a busy time at the airport, but I was ready to go for it and booked the trip. The American-raised Tony also gave me tips for my stay in Saigon, offering me brochures and a map with all streets indexed. I also had him arrange an excursion to the Cu Chi tunnels. I asked to pay with my Diners Club card, since the logo was on the door, and Tony said I was the first person in five years to want to use one. He took it, and came back saying it would take a complicated set-up on the computer, could I pay with Visa. I obliged, and this is part of the problem I’ve had with Diners; it’s nice for getting frequent flyer miles, but it has too little acceptance. I will not renew it next time. I got a taxi back to the hotel; not expecting that I would be going far enough to need a cab, I hadn’t taken the hotel’s card. I wrote down “Hotel Oscar Nguyen Hue” for the driver; he took me down the street from my hotel. I indicated it was o.k., but he insisted on finding the right place; I had the guidebook with a short list of Vietnamese phrases, so I looked up the street number and made my one effort on the trip to say anything in Vietnamese as I directed him to number 68.

So there my impression of Saigon was formed. One could take in that there were many people about, there were broad boulevards marked with French colonial architecture, and that was basically it. I normally like to explore cities by walking around, but it was too unpleasant to do it here, with the ordeal of crossing streets, hassled by children begging or selling trinkets and postcards, and by people offering rides on these modes of transport I dislike or to procure other services for a man alone. Crossing busy streets without stoplights is something I dislike about Italian cities as well, and eventually I had a method to it; here, where most traffic was two-wheeled, just cross at a steady pace and traffic will weave around you. Also, although I generally have a good sense of direction, here I often found that I had started out in the wrong direction and crossed streets unnecessarily. So I walked a little, and took a taxi for less than a dollar if the distance at all justified it. Since it got unpleasant to be out, I spent a lot of time in my hotel room, also not great because of the lack of outside light.

I normally wouldn’t bring politics into travel writing, but I feel that I should at least touch on the topic, since it’s so wrapped up in my reasons for wanting to go to Vietnam, and the top sights in Saigon relate to the war. I wasn’t yet of draft age during the Vietnam War, but I think one reason my family moved to Europe was to make it harder for me to be drafted if the war were still going on when I was of age. I was in circles in Italy that rejoiced at the outcome of the war. It’s difficult to look at that time from today’s perspective; in the south, it looks like one dictatorship was replaced by another, and U.S. conduct did a lot to preclude the chance of multi-party rule which was the original ideal of the National Liberation Front. (I know that “what if” questions about past history especially are subject to debate, but I’d like to hold onto this thought.) Hearing occasionally of the difficulties in unifying two very different economies and societies, and knowing of Vietnam’s history of fighting back so many invaders over the centuries, I had great interest in going. One of few countries still under Communist rule, it has moved to an economy with considerable private ownership. I saw red signs with slogans I couldn’t read, and warnings against taking pictures of government buildings. From my limited perspective, I can’t say how people were doing economically. Prices were low; as in most market economies, one could see the range from beggars (the sad case of a 4-year-old girl latching onto me knowing to say tearfully in English “Give me 4000 dong” or 25 cents) to people doing well. There were signs of international investment; after I left the country I read that many Vietnamese were building up holdings in gold. It seemed that everyone could afford a motorbike, since hardly anyone else was walking; not to be too flippant in concluding the topic, I think that a government with the general good in mind should make it easier to cross the street.

Four days was too much time to spend in Saigon; since I wanted to do the minimum of wandering around, I picked top destinations. I went to the Ho Chi Minh City Museum, combining natural history and photographs of city history. One cyclo driver had made a big campaign for me as I approached the museum, showing a portfolio of testimonials from past passengers. He was still there as I left, and I relented and took one cyclo ride to the War Remnants Museum. The ride gave an interesting perspective to traffic, but I didn’t want to repeat it. So the museum was the big attraction. It had photographs, weaponry, torture devices, and antiwar posters and banners from around the world. There was an exhibit of pictures taken by photographers who had been killed in the war, put together by Westerners, as I remember.

I had my tour of the Cu Chi tunnels on Sunday morning. What I had booked was a tour for me alone, with a guide and driver. They picked me up at the hotel and we made our way out of town; I was impressed to see how many people were out and about, going to market, even at 8 a.m. Sunday. I was interested in seeing at least a bit of rural Vietnam; the city extended far, but there was a small stretch of lush green countryside. My tour first stopped at a place to demonstrate making rice paper. Then we got to Cu Chi and its network of tunnels, where the guerrillas hid out underground beyond the reach of Americans who had a base right above them. There was a film to see, a tour of the grounds, and a short walk through a tunnel, widened for Western visitors. Back in town, the tour included a lunch of pho soup at a popular restaurant for it, not great for me, not a fan of soup. The tour was interesting, but I wish I’d found a better way to get around than this $40 tour.

My outing within Saigon outside of the central area was to Cholon, Saigon’s Chinatown. Even if I was starting to get tired of markets, I found fascinating the Binh Tay market, a huge covered market with many small stalls, and stands with live chickens and the like spreading around outside. Cholon is an area where there’s a lot to take in while walking around, but the streets were difficult to cross there and I didn’t see that much of what there is to see. I got onto a small street with a Casbah-like appeal, homes opening into the street.

I had my dinners at posh restaurants from Tony’s list, with English names, notably Lemongrass and the Vietnam House. I regularly had the nem spring rolls I remembered from Vietnamese restaurants in France, and main dishes with interesting fragrances such as lemongrass. Other observations about my stay: it was hot, and rainy season was over. Staying in the touristed area, I got by in English all the time. It was interesting to see itinerant vendors carrying their goods on bags at the end of bamboo sticks over their shoulder, in the same area as smart Western boutiques. I wish I’d spent more time outside Saigon; I had my problems with the city but overall I’m glad I was able to get to Vietnam, a word one continues to hear very often even if it’s not in reference to the country in the present day.

My flight to Siem Reap was at 7 a.m., and I was advised to get a taxi at 5.30. The hotel staff had told me the night before that $5 was the standard fare to the airport. I got the cab in front of the hotel; the driver didn’t turn the meter on and said “$7, o.k.?” This would have been a point to make a couple of arguments, but at that hour I said “If that’s the fare.” Then after a bit, he turned the meter on and pulled over; evidently he’d been stopped by plainclothes taxi inspectors. They had an animated discussion and went through old fares on the meter. An inspector asked me where I’d started, but didn’t instruct me on the fare to pay. We got going again, with plenty of traffic even at that hour. When we got to the airport, I thought maybe the driver had been chastened and I asked “Metered fare?” which came to under $3, but he insisted on the $7. So I paid in dollars instead of my remaining VND which would have covered it, but would now go to the airport charity box.

There was a metal detector at the entrance to the international terminal; even with the stop on the way, I had plenty of time to check in. There were no more international flights for more than an hour after mine; there weren’t many people around. I checked in and paid the $12 airport departure tax. Eventually it was boarding time and we took a bus to the parked Vietnam Airlines Fokker F70, a 70-seat jet. The flight was on time, scheduled for an hour, and went smoothly, with a roll and juice for breakfast. Most passengers were in French and German tour groups. We landed at Siem Reap airport.

When I first planned the Asia trip, I hadn’t thought of going to Cambodia; I knew of it as a place that had gone through terrible devastation, and I wasn’t really aware that it had reached peace and was a reasonable travel destination. After Judy and Lisa from the Travelzine recommended it, I did some research on a trip there, but didn’t commit to it until I was in Saigon. We walked to the terminal, a temporary shed while the new terminal is being built. I had filled out a landing/departure form on the plane, and needed to fill out another form for a visa application. There was a desk with five men with the distinctive Cambodian look (dark skin, wide oval faces); I needed to hand my passport, application, and picture I had taken in Saigon to the one on the right (I didn’t see if there was an option of getting the picture taken there). They passed everything along; when the one on the left held up my passport, I paid him the $20 fee ($25 if going to Phnom Penh) and was ready to go. Again it took me a while to see that my bag was already there. I went out to the exchange booth; I had read that prices were routinely listed in U.S. dollars, but it was handy to get Cambodian riel for things under a dollar. I changed $20 and got 76,000 riel all in 1000-riel notes; my wallet no longer folded when I got that in, but I managed to get it into my pocket.

In the Internet era, I’ve usually had my lodging booked before my arrival; now I had something of a nostalgic return to the need to locate something upon arrival. I had printed out the hotel list from the online version of a free guide to the area (although I never saw the booklet). I looked over the options on the plane; many new hotels and guesthouses were being built as the country becomes a tourist destination, but many of them are out of town. I wanted something centrally located so I could strike off on my own; from the list I made a first choice of the Mekong Angkor Palace and a second choice of the Red Piano. At the airport, people representing hotels stood outside the fence, holding up signs. I spotted one for the Red Piano, asked the guy the rate, he said $15 and I agreed to it. A man behind him said he’d bring his car over to take me. So I got in and found that he didn’t represent the Red Piano; he said that hotel was noisy and, if it was full, we could try the Mekong Angkor. I said that I would actually prefer the Mekong, so we went there. The Angkor temples are scattered around the area and one needs a means of getting to them. I had vaguely thought of hooking up with a tour, but didn’t know how easily that could be done. The driver proposed taking me around for the duration of my stay at $20/day, and I agreed to that.

The Mekong Angkor Palace hotel was new, set back from Sivatha Blvd. Their rate was $25/night. (There were also guest houses marked at $4-$8.) There were some Angkor-themed decorations, but I felt that the place had the soulless feel of modern roadside hotels in France and Italy in the 1970s. My room had a refrigerator with bottled water and TV with channels from everywhere, but no chair or night table. I quickly got settled and went back to the car.

The car was a Toyota Etoile with right-hand drive, which most cars seem to have although traffic is on the right. The driver and I communicated reasonably well; he said that I could hire a guide but might as well just use a book. We drove to the booth where one buys the visitor’s pass to the temples; I gave a picture and $40 for a 3-day pass (it would be $20 for one day). We drove past Angkor Wat and made our first stop at Bayon. There was no problem getting a guidebook; before I was out of the car, a young girl was offering a selection of guides. There was a book for $1 with black and white pictures and dated 1994, but she persuaded me to buy Angkor by Dawn Rooney, dated 2002 with color pictures; the cover price was $22.95 but she would sell it for $15. I lightened my wallet’s load by paying it with 60,000 riel. As I started to count 60 bills, she pointed out that groups of 10 were marked by one bill folded around the others. The guidebook offered lots of information, and I’ve tried to read to learn more about the temples from it after my visit. It was somewhat confusing to use on site, though; the author suggests alternate places to start a tour of a temple, but when she says “now turn right” it isn’t always clear from which starting point. There were diagrams of the temples, but the suggested tour route should have been marked there.

At Bayon I got my first sense of the wonder of the temples, with their intricate bas-reliefs and sculpted figures, surprises after dark hallways and steep climbs. I won’t try to add to what others have written other than to say that it was very impressive, and I’ll write about what happened to me. My driver and I set up regular meeting times and places, and these worked out. I went to adjacent sites; some of these didn’t check for admission passes, and I ran into the problem of vendors pestering me on the grounds. Some young men who spoke good English started pleasantries with me, then talked about the sites without us having agreed to anything, so I was pressured to give a tip. After two of these I had to find a way to stop these at the beginning, since I didn’t have the right bills for this, but it didn’t happen again.

I had lunch at a restaurant (open air, but with a covering) across from Angkor Wat. Then I had the afternoon to spend at the Wat, and it was worth spending that whole time there. It was great to see the temple in its vastness and good preservation, and it was nice to enter at 1 p.m. while most tour groups were at lunch. It was a strain to climb to the top level, but worth it with everything to see there. Rain showers started while I was in a covered area, and they offered a soothing feeling, contributing to the magical feel of the place. I noted the intricate battle scenes in the bas-reliefs and the motif of apsaras, dancing women who look similar at first but with interesting slight variations. The afternoon passed and the crowds increased, with groups of many nationalities; I heard local guides speaking French, Spanish, and Italian.

It was raining as I met my driver. There was the option of going to a spot to observe the Wat at sunset, but it wasn’t advisable today. I also could have gone to a show of present-day apsaras, but I preferred to be on my own. After a brief stop at the hotel, I went off. There were signs of how much of a developing country this is: muddy sidewalks and no street lighting, just the lights of businesses. I was hassled some and didn’t want to walk far; I stopped at a nearby restaurant with $2 main dishes. So on this day I observed how the country was trying to rebuild its economy through tourism. Within memory of Cambodians reportedly being killed for knowing foreign languages, now in public service in Siem Reap it was essential to speak English; I noted language schools where people learned English and other languages. I also noted the presence of international relief organizations and hospitals. The driver said the roads were well paved thanks to international attention; there was a lot of bicycle traffic.

On the second day the driver had arranged to pick me up at 7 a.m. to beat the crowds to the more distant temple of Banteay Srei, very well liked for its nice decorations and good state of preservation. He also told me that his fee for that day would be $40 because of that distance and the long ride in the afternoon to get a boat at Tonle Sap. From what I read, that is a normal charge. We made short stops at some more temples; there was a certain appeal in hearing the chants of women in the souvenir or snack stands across from the temple entrances, as opposed to peddlers getting right with me and blocking my way. The last highlight among the temples was Ta Prohm, a whole complex with part of its charm in its disrepair. It was nice to see entryways of the same size in so many consecutive walls that it seemed like a hall of mirrors, although it wasn’t. About the temples in general, it is noteworthy that they are still active sites of Buddhist veneration, with monks set up burning incense (although many were originally built as Hindu shrines).

There may have been more temples to see, but the driver decided that other things were standard for a trip of this length, after lunch in town. We stopped at a local handicraft making place, another job-creating place for the populace. Then we left to catch the boat trip; on the road there, I saw many people out and had a sense of the poverty there. So I got to the boat trip; with some doubt about whether I wanted this at all, I asked about taking the one-hour trip at $10 but got persuaded that to do it properly I should go for two hours at $20. I was the only passenger on a motorboat, in a wicker chair. Though somewhat uneasy at the situation, I found much interest in the Tonle Sap lake. The lake becomes a river, which joins the Mekong; after rainy season, there’s more water than the ocean can take, so the lake gets higher, with trees coming out of it and houses on stilts. We stopped at two lakeside aquariums/souvenir stands. At a wide spot in the lake, the skipper, who didn’t speak English, turned the motor off and had me put a life jacket on. He said something to the skipper of another boat and went clothed into the water as the boat rocked. I was certainly worried about what was happening, but he got back on and got the boat going. I suppose there was some kind of problem, but I’ve read from other reports that it’s standard for them to turn the motor off there so people can enjoy the scenery in silence; the writers of other reports worried that they were going to be shaken down for more money.

Eventually we got back to the dock and I got back to town. I had money to worry about; although I’d brought a good supply of dollar cash, these expenses were adding up. I knew that Cambodia didn’t have networked ATMs; perhaps I could have gotten cash advances on my ATM card, but for security I’d brought travelers’ cheques (TCs), and there was a bank right in front of the hotel open until 7 p.m. I’d cashed some the first evening; even after I found out that cash was the only option for both the driver and the hotel, I thought it would be enough to cash just one $50 TC. If I paid for my dinner in riel, I added up the costs of driver, hotel, and airport tax, and figured I had about a dollar to spare. Sometimes I’ve cut it that close with the currency of the country I was leaving, but it was ridiculous to do this with my own currency, so I cashed another TC, a good thing since I hadn’t accounted for the two days’ breakfasts. I had my dinner with two beers and dessert for $5.

We arranged to meet at 5 a.m. so I could go to sunrise at Angkor Wat before catching my 8.35 a.m. flight. As I was leaving, the hotel people stopped me twice to ask for my receipt that I’d paid the night before. We got to the temple, and the sunrise was quite a spectacle, with many people gathered. I had breakfast there, and we went on to the airport; we had agreed that the driver’s charge would be $10 for that short day, and we said goodbye. Each country I visited had its appeals and drawbacks, but I’ll say I’m most pleased I went to Cambodia. Once again there was a security check on entering the terminal. Tony, the travel agent in Saigon, had told me that I couldn’t check my bag through to Hong Kong, and I was glad to see that he was wrong, although my bag might also have qualified as a carry-on. I was given a Vietnam Airlines transit sticker to wear; with no crowd, I paid the $15 departure tax and got into the departure area. I was pleased to see the incoming VN flight arrive on time; when ready, we boarded the flight to Saigon.

With my sticker, I didn’t need to get a Vietnamese landing card, and the flight went well with a snack. When we arrived in Saigon, if I’d needed to go through immigration there wouldn’t have been a wait, but I’m glad I didn’t need to test my visa status. At the transit desk, they had me wait; it seemed they couldn’t just print the boarding pass there but needed to get it from the front counter. Eventually I got it, and I suppose it was advantageous that the CX flight had a VN codeshare, even if it meant that the fare was high and I couldn’t get frequent flyer credit. I waited in the departure area, and there was a security check at the gate; people were crowding around, eager to board before their turn. We got boarded and took off; I remember the wine but not the lunch. It happened to be Thanksgiving Day in the U.S., and I was thankful that I made it out of areas perceived as risky and this connection went smoothly.

I got through Hong Kong arrival formalities, and once again took the A21 bus to my hotel, in the same area as before. This time I had to stand on the lower level of the bus for most of the ride, and I was ready to get off at my stop. For this night, I was booked at the Holiday Inn Golden Mile on Nathan Rd. I had built up Holiday Inn Priority Club points, mostly from using a credit card; a standard free night is 15,000 points, but in U.S. cities of any interest it generally takes 25,000 points. I found that this HK hotel offered it at 15,000, so I took my free night there. It was fine for my brief stay, and I wonder if it had the same management as my previous HK hotel; there were so many similarities in the setup of the room and the phone numbers were one digit apart.

For this late afternoon and evening in Hong Kong, I went back to the promenade and found that many of the HK Island high-rises now had a side covered with Christmas decorations, and I did some final shopping. In this stay, I saw some of the things people warn about in HK but I hadn’t seen in my previous stay: unfriendly customer service and overcharging. In particular I have a complaint about a camera shop, the Hong Kong City Shop in a Nathan Rd. storefront of the Chungking Mansions, charging HK$164 to develop 36 pictures, while the photo booth at the Star Ferry terminal had charged HK$37.80 to develop 26, both with 1-hour service and the same type and size paper. I had my final dinner in the hotel’s Cantonese restaurant. I checked out around 5.30 a.m. and got the return bus to the airport.

In summer 2001 I reached 80,000 miles on Northwest Airlines. None of these were from intercontinental flights; 40,000 were for switches of long-distance phone service. I was also alert to other promotions they offered, such as 10,000 bonus miles for five partner transactions, which could be five meals at Idine’s restaurants . Although I’m generally budget-minded, I like the opportunity to go Business Class when I get the chance; in particular, this would be the way to take the long flight to Asia. I understood that November was a good time to go, and I could incorporate the days off work I get for Thanksgiving. So I booked these flights as they became available 11 months in advance.

The day of departure came, and at my home airport of Kansas City it was my first opportunity to see a renovated section of the terminal. In First Class for my domestic segments, I got to Detroit and had my first look at their new terminal, big and airy compared to their terribly cramped old facility. As a World Business Class passenger, I was entitled to go to the airline’s WorldClub. It was very big; just as I finished exploring it, I heard the boarding call for my flight, an hour before departure. I had my express line to board, and for the first time I took my seat on the upper deck of a 747. NW has a reputation of having an old fleet, and the 747 has been retired from service on most non-Asian routes, but this cabin had a new feel. Next to my window seat, there was a bin beneath the window for my carry-on, and I could rest my reading matter on the lid, with some risk of it sliding. With the extreme recline and space between seats, it was nice not to have to reach for the seat pocket.

There was friendly service, with some minor lapses, before and during the flight from Detroit to Tokyo, the longest flight segment of my life at 13.5 hours. The flight attendants were surprised that I ordered the Japanese meal. I got a fair amount of sleep during this flight across the international date line, leaving at 12.35 p.m. Thursday and arriving in Tokyo at 4 p.m. Friday. It might as well have been the same day in terms of it being daylight for the whole flight; I was aware of it, from the on-screen map showing our progress, when we were at our northernmost point, over Alaska in November, and it was daylight. The end-of-flight meal was a breakfast, and I got a full egg-and-sausage dish.

We arrived at Narita airport, and we needed to take the passage out of NW’s concourse and go through security to re-enter. I went up to the big WorldClub there and used its interesting draft beer dispenser. This was a two-hour layover; I went back to the gate area when I thought boarding time might be approaching. This concourse was a relatively small circle surrounded by 747s, so it got crowded during this peak hub transfer time. The incoming flight of my plane to Hong Kong was late coming from New York, and it needed to get a security sweep before we boarded, so there was a delay. Eventually I took my priority boarding for the 5.5-hour flight to HK. I don’t remember the meal, just getting the chance to read the South China Morning Post and excitement at approaching my destination. I had the first of my two HK arrivals; it was odd to need to walk a ways, go downstairs, then take a train apparently back in the direction whence we came. The formalities and baggage claim went smoothly; I found an ATM and got money, bought an Octopus card, and found my way to the bus stop to get into town.

Two weeks later, for my return flight, I saw Friday dawn in Hong Kong and planned to see Friday dawn again in the U.S. I was at the airport in plenty of time for my 8.40 a.m. departure, and had my priority check-in for Business Class. They looked through my bag before checking it in. I took the agent’s offer of an upper deck seat although I was pre-assigned on the lower deck. With the pass I was given, I went to the HK WorldClub, a lounge shared by several airlines. I boarded when called; the upper deck on this 747-200 had only three rows of seats, giving it a club-like feeling as opposed to the bigger deck on the 747-400 I’d taken before. There was a change in Tokyo and I had a short time in their WorldClub before my flight to Seattle was called.

The Tokyo-Seattle flight was scheduled for 8.5 hours, comparable to many transatlantic trips I’ve taken. I had a Western meal and didn’t have much appetite for the main dish of salmon after a big first course. I got a few hours sleep, and a movie that interested me came on the personal screen. Before the movie was over, the captain announced that there was insufficient visibility to land at Seattle, and we would be diverted to Portland, Ore., which happens to be my birthplace. We landed as I saw the Friday dawn again, but I wasn’t able to go out into it. The first announcement was that we would be parked away from the terminal and no one would be able to leave, even though some passengers were in fact going to Portland. But then the plane went to a jetway and they announced that they’d gotten some customs agents to cooperate; I’m not sure if that meant Portland passengers were able to get off, since that wasn’t actually stated. Anyway, the passengers in general stayed on; in Business Class we were glad to get some more sleep in our fully reclined seats. We stayed on the ground for 4-5 hours; the crew regularly thanked everyone for their great patience, perhaps a bigger challenge for Coach passengers. At midday, the fog had finally cleared enough in Seattle for us to go there. That flight took 30 minutes; as soon as we reached altitude, we were told to prepare for landing. We landed, and U.S. customs did a thorough search of my bags but not my person. At this airport, after customs one exits to a concourse area, so one needs to go through security even if exiting to the street. I also needed to recheck my checked bag from the satellite terminal to the main baggage claim, and took the train to the main terminal.

When I booked the flight 11 months earlier, they said that the available way to return Friday would be to take a one-stop Tokyo-Memphis and connect to Kansas City. The one stop would be in Seattle, and it would in fact mean going through customs there and getting another plane to Memphis. After a moment’s thought, I decided that I would prefer to spend a day in Seattle and complete my trip Saturday. With this late arrival, if I’d stayed with the original plan I would have needed to rebook my continuation; as things were, I’d missed out on a good part of the day in Seattle. It was odd to feel the chill in the air after two weeks of no such thing. I got to the Airport Marriott and was still tired; I mainly just got to see the Museum of Flight. The fog got heavy again that night and when I got up before dawn Saturday. I had some worries about my flight, but it cleared up in time. I slept through most of my return trip via Detroit, and stayed fatigued for quite a few days afterward, making up for the ease of time zone transition when I got to Asia. Overall, this was an amazing trip; I had varying impressions of different places and things, but the full experience was great, and I hope this report has been useful or interesting to some readers.