Just said goodbye to Mom and Dad about half an hour ago. It would have felt much more bittersweet if we hadn’t had such an amazing time and I knew it would be ages before I saw them again. Time is flying by and summer will be here soon…But I digress.
As the Liedl family plus one crept deeper into the impentrable Heart of Darkness...
After my last post we spent a few more days in Borneo. The weather seemed to worsen each day, raining longer and harder and we had some pretty lazy days (Isn’t that what holidays are all about anyway!?). I took plenty of guilt-free snoozes. The highlight (or low point depending on which of us you ask) was a trip to Kubah National Park just 20 kilometers or so outside of Kuching, which served as our home base in Borneo for day trips. We’ve been repeatedly warned about the leeches at the park and therefore had stocked up on high socks. The rain tapered out upon our arrival and we set out on a trek. Leeches soon became the least of our concerns.
Sunset on "Jurassic Park" aka Bako National Park in Borneo
The trail began with about 25 steps straight down. They were slick and I grabbed a rope for support. As I reached for the rope my hand grazed something sticky. I shook my hand to try to get rid of it but that only seemed to make it cling more, further entangling myself. “Damn cobwebs,” I said.
“There’s a big spider above your head,” Dad uttered in a half-chuckle.
“That’s not a funny joke,” I replied.
“I’m not joking. There’s a big spider above your head.”
There was indeed a big spider above my head. I freaked out and nearly slipped the 25 steps straight down. After gathering myself and having a small group about face regarding whether this trail was really a good idea we descended the steps. I’d counted four of the sinister, creepy spinsters by the time we’d gone down the steps. I was thoroughly freaked.
Creepster
We must have passed two dozens spiders in the same way. Whenever there was something overhanging the trail that could feasibly be used to bridge a spiderweb…there was one. A few times we nearly ran face first into a cobweb and/or spider. Between the muggy heat and nervous stress of avoiding arachnids, I was sweating out of every pore.
This image will forever haunt my dreams
More Borneo stories for another day coming soon.
Tai Chi in the park with some old-timers
Here’s a story I wrote The Word about my experiences Dancing in the Park at this link and below…
Nathaniel Liedl enters Ho Chi Minh City’s parks to find out what all that shaking and dancing is all about. Photos by Khoa Tran.
In this city’s parks, there’s a hodgepodge of bizarre activities taking place at any time of day, from badminton and football to shuttlecock games. There’s tai chi, meditation, swordplay and teenagers dancing as if they’re in a Britney Spears music video. Then there’s the stretching: young, middle-aged and old alike, hip-swiveling, thrusting and dry humping the air.
And in the midst of all these curiosities, there are always young lovers in longing embraces, sneaking in closed-mouth kisses, finding the little privacy their cramped home lives offer. But there’s another intrigue which I’ve wanted to partake in, and that’s group aerobics dancing.
Gettin' my groove on
Gettin’ Jiggy With It
I set off for the Sep. 23 Park next to Ben Thanh Market at around 5.30pm on a Monday to find out what it’s all about. En route, I jam to Ludacris to get myself pumped. Ready to “throw some ‘boes” with the Vietnamese, I arrive.
About 70 women are already into their set, eight lines deep. My stomach twists in a fit of nerves. I start perspiring. Ludacris can’t help me anymore. There isn’t a single man among the women, who range from 18 to 70. An electronically-mixed version of Madonna’s Music resonates throughout the park as I sit, merely take it all in, unable to muster the humility and join them. I bow out this time.
My pride and face are intact, but much worse, my courage is shot.
Round Two
Taking some company as courage, we converge on Le Van Tam Park at 6.45am. There is an abundance of standard eccentric stretching, plenty of shuttlecock and two massive groups ballroom dancing, but none of the aerobic-style I’m after. Feeling defeated for a second time but determined not to let this early morning rise be a complete wash, we join a group of ancient-looking women doing tai chi. We sidle up in the back, attempting to draw as little attention as possible. The anonymity lasts about 30 seconds. Apparently a big, ugly, unshaven white behemoth like me is hard to ignore.
The ladies are tickled at our presence. Once their routine is finished they approach us offering personal instruction. Flattered and resolved not to embarrass myself too badly, I take a few deep breaths and focus. The team leader demonstrates a few positions and gently corrects our despicable form. After profusely thanking the elders for their time and kindness, we depart with some new friends, but no aerobic dancing.
A few of the ancient, ahem, elderly ladies
Shake Ya Tail Feather
A week later, I’m back at the Sep. 23 Park, but much earlier. I thoroughly scope out the scene beforehand, to prevent any surprises. By 6pm, there’s little action. Plenty of shuttlecocks, but no dancing women. Then they suddenly arrive and promptly bust out the boom box and speakers. Masses of women, young and old, emerge from the park’s looming shadows and form lines. There’s no dress code. Women are decked out in all forms of athletic and un-athletic attire, from skimpy booty shorts to jeans and tight tank tops to baggy blouses. I head straight for the back line.
The electronic music starts up and we get right into it, stepping to the beat and waving our hands this way and that. The twenty-something in front of me is shaking her moneymaker like a video vixen in a 50 Cent joint. I burst out laughing, losing my composure and the beat for a few moments. To ‘rumpshaker’s’ right is another hip-swiveler who has clearly watched too many hip-hop videos.
The other women are having as much trouble as I am following the beat and aerobic moves. There’s a semblance of uniformity, but people are doing their own thing too. I focus on a beautiful girl who has clearly done this before. I focus on her…dance moves and imitate.
“Mot, hai, ba, bon, nam, sao, bay. . .” chants a voice over and over, which I can’t place, but is coming from somewhere up front. The song ends and everyone pauses before Made in India kicks in and we start flailing our arms about before doing a seductive Chubby Checker twist toward the ground. I glance at ‘rumpshaker’ and lose it again.
A couple of kids who can’t be more than five approach the edge of our dance line, mimicking our moves. I lose it again. But I focus back on ‘Miss Beautiful’ and I’m dancing in chorus again. I have a fecal-matter eating grin on my face that I can’t shake. I’m actually enjoying this.
Then the song stops abruptly and everyone disperses. Just like that, it’s over. I had just started to break a sweat. Still smiling, I wander out of the park pleased with myself. Yet another novel Vietnamese experience, I can now say I’ve participated in the park’s oddities.
I wrote most of this story as well: “Uniquely Vietnam.” Fun to write and I learned a lot too.
