Hoi Anne

Home of the $80 custom made suit, the best damn fresh pork spring rolls I've ever tasted, and  a homeless guy openly masterbating on the street.

That last part is not in the Lonely Planet.

Sunset breeze in Hoi Ann

May I never forget how perfectly warm it was.

Suit and tie.

I try to do everything Anthony Bourdain tells me to do. So it makes sense that I would get a suit made in Hoi Ann. This according to Anthony is something every man should do at least once before he dies.

With a 2 day process and a cost of $80, I wish I would have had 8 more made.

Thanks to the great folks at Yaly for thier fine and incredibly affordable work. Now if I only had a meeting or movie premier to attend...

That time I slept in a cave

This is going to sound pretentious. It is not meant to be.
The more we travel the harder it is to find "tourist attractions" that really impress us.
Shit that does sound pretentious.

What I mean by that is, all the temples in the world are beautiful in their own right. All the waterfalls, sand dunes, fishing villages, mountain hikes, undiscovered beaches, etc etc are all amazing. It's when you see a lot of them, in a row, that they kind of lose their magic. That or sometimes they just pale in comparison to one you did a few months/years back. You can't help it. You're always comparing what you're doing to what you've done. So in that sense, it's hard to find something new that excites you.

The hike to Hang En (third largest cave in the world) in Phong Na National Park would be classified under the things we've done that fucking blew our minds.

Funny thing about this hike, in the beginning we weren't sure we'd do it. Everyone we asked said it was amazing. "You have to do it!" "You sleep in a cave." "It's incredible." The only problem…everyone also said it was really hard. They would look us up and down and then declare, "it's really tough. You have to be in good shape to do it." Sabrina and I we're like what the hell, are we not in good shape? It's not like the both of us rolled into the tourist office on a pair matching rascals.

Their warnings made us begin to doubt ourselves. I mean how hard could it be? Are we really not in shape enough to do it? We did Machu Picchu. Nearly got divorced on the hike up Rinjani, but climbed that bitch. Did a 15 hour hike in Patagonia. Could it really be that hard? Do people think we're that fat? I mean most of the people saying we aren't in shape enough to do it are fatter than we are.

It's hard to explain the amount of fear and doubt this all created in our heads. Our psyches we're a mess. And yet. We did it anyway.

Everything about the hike was amazing. The people. The scenery. The feeling of being completely lost. Being so small. The majesty of the earth growing, towering over you in every direction. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. And we got to sleep in a FREAKING CAVE! In retrospect in ranks as one of my favorite things we've ever done. Worth every penny.

Was it tough? Eh. It was a long hike, but I wouldn't say it was hard. But then again maybe that's just because I'm in really good shape. A physical specimen. Not fat. Not at all. Screw you fat tourist office guy.

Apparently David Beckham looks like a pale, out of shape Irishman

Because I've been told at least 6 times now "you face look like David Beckham"

Makes me feel sorry for Posh Spice.

This is what your lady looks like

when she gets published for the first time.
Congrats travel writer!

Goodnight sweet chicken.

The knife was dull. Much duller than the knife I would give someone who wanted to slit my throat. But here I was, sawing back and forth across this tiny chicken's neck. Hoping to break the skin. Hoping this all would be over soon. His chicken eye staring at me the whole time, as if to say "just get it over with pal".

Then it happened. The tiniest prick. On the 4th try. Blood spewing forth. Dark red. The chicken was now dinner. I was a murderer.

I'd be lying if I said I ever thought I'd kill a chicken and eat it. Just never thought there would come a time or place where that would be necessary. I get my chicken at El Pollo Loco. They do it for me.

But having done it, in the rain soaked jungles of Vietnam, I have to say I feel as though I just completed a necessary human task. I feel kind of alive. In touch with the world around me. Maybe its a primal feeling, but it kind of feels good.

After all I've eaten 100's of chickens and cows and seahorses in my life, and never once had to extend myself anymore than pointing at their names on a menu. For the first time in my life I was part of the whole circle of life thing.

So was it good? Let's just say I appreciate the sacrifice my chicken made…and had I known he'd be so tough and chewy he might still be alive.

A kayak pirate looks at 40

Today Ryan and I kayaked across Ha Long Bay to the island he wished we stayed on. Not that our island was bad. It just wasn't filled with 20 something girls in bikinis and 20 something bros with dicks drawn on their backs. Apparently Ryan is really into one of these two things. Maybe both. Who knows.

Our heads filled with visions of plunder, naked jello shots, and all out debauchery we docked our banana yellow kayaks on Ass Island only to realize we forgot our wallets. Fucking morons.

After an awkward walk around the premises and a quick game of pool, we took to the beach and watched as all the bikinis and marker cocks boarded the daily booze cruise and set off into the bay. Leaving us alone. And broke. On Asshole island.

Yellow lights and plastic chairs

There's something special about eating on the street. Something familiar, that I had forgotten about until tonight. The feel of a tiny plastic chair against your ass. A beer sweating on an even tinier table in front of you. The warm glow of street lights, bathing everything in a golden soup. The feel of the dirt and shit under neath your sandals. The smiles on the faces of strangers. The exhaust from passing scooters mixing with the intoxicating smell emanating from a nearby grill. The way your shirt sticks to your back.

It's all so specific. The smells. The feeling of the air. The way the food tastes. It's better. Much better than any over priced restaurant. Give me a crowded street corner any day. When it's crowded you know it's good.

This is Hanoi. This is traveling.

Last couple of months in a nutshell

I don't want to write this blog anymore, but I know future me will be pissed if I stop documenting our travels so here are the cliff notes from the last month or so…

Morocco was a mixed bag. I hated Tangier and liked Marakesh. Chefchaouen was cool and blue. Our over night trip to the desert was over nighty and deserty. And we rode a bus that was filled with people puking their guts out.

Lisbon was amazing. I loved it. Every fucking square inch of that city. I want to move there.

Christmas in the Keys was great. Awesome to see everyone. Snorkeling. Alligator swamp boat rides. Cuban cigars. Taylor Swift. South Beach hostels. The Square Grouper. Batting Cages. Good times.

Phoenix was relaxing as always. Golf and a lot of chilling. Always welcomed.

Off to LA and then back on the road. Vietnam is only a week or so away.