We are independent travelers, but the prospect of travel in South East Asia was daunting. So after weeks of researching, and deciding that Vietnam would be our primary destination, I tried to book a package tour. Much to my surprise, not only were the American based companies quoting twice as much money up front, but their agents weren’t returning my calls. Taking a leap of faith and assuming that all packagers would be hiring the same independent local guides (which turned out to be true), I booked a “custom tour” with a Vietnamese company I’d found on the web. The result was that we spent two and a half weeks in Vietnam and Cambodia – just David and me in intimate company with our tour guides and drivers. What follows is the continuation of my notes from that time:

Traveling south from North to Central Vietnam is a step in the march towards globalization. While the north feels mired in memories of war, much of the flat, verdant center is developing into Boca Raton, Far East, with luxury hotels and villas sprouting like rice in a paddy. Our first stop is Hue, a small city on the Perfume River, and we fly into the airport where we are met by our guide, Tiger. Nobody looks less like a Tiger than this tiny, fiftyish, skinny man with glasses, stained teeth, and a penchant for laughing hysterically at his own jokes. He is Woody Allen in Vietnamese; an unlikely ladies man, his white shirt tucked into high waisted black pants, his signature yellow plastic shopping bag dangling from his hand.

Hue is filled with disjointed images of beautiful citadels and summer palaces, and tourist-filled Chinese restaurants - the kind of joints that wouldn’t be out of place on the New York State Thruway, were it not for the water buffalo lounging at the entryway canal. Tiger seems to know everyone in town, and he is erudite – speaking Russian, French and fluent English, watching CNN nightly with great concern about global warming and worldwide issues. His educated brothers and sisters have married and emigrated to Australia, San Francisco and Switzerland. Like many memories in Vietnam, his center around the war. “During the war,” he said, “my mother and father divided their large house in Central Danang into flats which they rented to American pilots.” Tiger remembers the pilots as men, happy spending time in the family house, not looking forward to flying off on missions. He recalls his home city, Danang, prospering during the war, when the population of one million swelled to three. With more than one hundred thousand American troops stationed in the city and nearby, the farmers felt safe during times of intensive bombing. “Not far from Danang, in the mountains,” Tiger says, “the tigers and elephants became frightened by the sounds of war and migrated twenty miles away. The locals are waiting for the elephants to return to Lucky Elephant Mountain, still hoping for the reappearance of tigers.”

We move from Hue to the upscale river town of Hoi An where we stay in a pristine beach-front villa and eat dinner in a funky California type restaurant filled with hip looking tourists. One afternoon, while we prowl the markets of Hoi An, Tiger receives news that his 85-year-old mother is hospitalized. He sits us down in a café and explains that he can no longer be our guide. I am bereft, panicky. When had I become so dependent on Tiger? He is frightened by the news of his mother’s hospitalization for a recurring stomach problem. “David,” he asks, “you are a doctor. What should we do? They want to operate and I know that the hospitals here are not that good. “ David is quietly reassuring - Tiger's mother is not too old for surgery, but there are no ready answers for his question. “Make sure they keep her hydrated,“ advises David. We leave Tiger on the streets of Hoi An and we never see him again. I feel deserted, yet relieved. We are on our own.