Day 179 - Luang Prubang to Chiang Mai

Let me start by saying that the Chiang Mai destination was not planned at the outset. We purchased bus tickets from Luang Prubang to Huay Xai, the border stop on the Mekong.

Things started badly for the bus journey when we were initially delayed by a full hour. The VIP bus was "broken" so they had placed us on a local bus. Sarah went to enquire whether the replacement was also VIP. She was assured it was. I knew the assurance wasn't worth shit. "Broken buses" I've heard it a million times.

A tuk tuk took us to a local bus station where we boarded a packed bus, containing locals and just one other westerner. There is nothing wrong with this, and I love travelling with locals, but not when we've paid for a VIP. There was no VIP bus, the tour company pocketed the difference. Then put us on the 11 hour ride from hell.

The seats were comfy, and a blanket was provided and the AC was a good standard, so far so good.  As we pulled away the driver put on some music. Not our taste and a little loud, but so what most of those on board were ok with it, so democracy rules. It was still before 8pm afterall. For some reason it was turned off with the lights and that suited us to get some sleep.

At about 10pm a man beside us starting puking into a plastic bag. Then another. A kind of milky substance, and the noise he made while doing it. He wanted no one to be in any doubt he was vomiting. One bag he threw out the window, and the other he tied in a knot to the side of his chair for the remainder of the journey.

About 12:30am I woke as the lights went full on and a lady with holding a baby jumped on board. Although all seats were taken. The bus conductor kindly offered her a wooden seat, and she sat on that throughout the remainder of the journey. No one offered her a seat (including me). Some elderly people came on afterwards and again they were also given wooden seats in the aisle and again no one offered them a seat (including me). Should the driver be forced to do an emergency stop. There would be 3 holes in the wind screen in the shape of two skinny elder gents and mother holding a child.

From 1:30am the driver decided this was a good time to blast out up-tempo music and did so until 3am when Sarah had enough and told him to turn it down. All the while some woman in the front was hacking up and spitting for the entire journey on and off. A kind of painful scream with every evacuation of phlegm. The lights, which were neon green and orange went on and off without reason. It was like everything possible was being done to stop sleep. The kind of treatment they gave to IRA suspects in the 1980s to make them confess to anything. It also beggared belief that we seemed the only ones the least annoyed or unable to sleep. Asians only need to sit still for 5 minutes to fall asleep, and they could do it in the middle of a road works.

Laotians seem such simple people and I feel bad saying this. Maybe its their manners that have not evolved in the same direction ours have. They push past and cause bottle necks on buses and queues when to any observer, just letting someone go first, eases the crowd and we all leave or enter somewhere quicker. I'm sure in the name of equality there are ample examples which prove me wrong here, but from my dealings they seem far too laid back. By saying far too laid back, I'm of course holding my tongue.

We arrived at Huay Xai at about 7am, a full 2 hours earlier than we were told. Then again the Laotian who sold us the ticket wasn't altogether sure if we were going to Vientiane or Huay Xai.

Huay Xai was nice little place to end our Laos visit. Equally charming, if in a different way, to the entry point out of Vietnam over a week ago. A nice border town selling a last minute chance for a t-shirt, some snake wine or a flat screen TV.

We saw some steps that led up to another bloody temple. We climbed up and looked back and there was the muddy Mekong and the houses on the other side were in Thailand. Tired and travelled out we saw a ticket vendor and bought a ticket all the way to Chiang Mai. After 9am we departed. We had to pay $1 as it was a Saturday for overtime. I asked the border guard "what happens if we don't pay, do you deport us?". He understood but didn't laugh. I paid up.

The boat chugged across 5 minute crossing of the Mekong. Looking down at either side I saw for that period I had left Laos but not entered Thailand, so I was on a boat and not in a country.

We banked up and passed through Thai immigration in no time. So we were in our last country. We had decided we didn't want the hassle of Bhurma, well not today anyway. Our bus took us over the flat neat roads of Northern Thailand, arriving here in Chiang Mai at about 5pm (we were promised 2:30pm, oh I give not a shit anymore). In a couple of days we are taking the night train to Bangkok. That will be the end of our Asian travels. Tomorrow though... the dentist. I have a rotten tooth to have yanked out. Lovely.

Days 177 to 178 - Luang Prubang, Laos

We are nearing the end of our journey, and I am not sure if we are visiting places or this is part of the long winding road to Bangkok. The big city at the hub of Asian travel. Where we will buy presents and also get the healthcare we need. We have only 12 days left.

Our lives back home are looking good. I have a place at my sisters until I sort myself out. Sarah looks like she has secured a job and a place in the USA. This will be in Haines, Alaska. Alaska was our original plan, and it looks like it has come full circle. I'm excited and confused all at once. However, I'm curtailing my excitement, as between the USA and me stands the dreaded interview at the American Embassy. Thirty minutes of my life sat in front of a US diplomat who will decide my future based on a bit of a checkered, but fully disclosed past.

Back to the journey. We left Vang Vieng at 11ish and the bus journey through the mountains of Laos was magnificent. I was reading the actor Rob Lowes biography (dissappointing) most of the time, but had to put it down to look out the window to counteract travel sickness. The roads are winding and the speed of the bus I doubt passed 30mph for any of the 200 mile journey. This didn't matter. It was a honour to look out at the Laotian villages. They seem to build the smallest of wooden stilt houses all along the road. The people and children look so clean and content despite what is obviously not affluence.

We arrived at about 6pm into Luang Prubang, and through travel weariness took the first guesthouse with the right price offered. Its wasn't bad at all. On leaving to eat, we wondered where the Ubud or Hoi An we envisaged was. It was not until the following day, when we had a map and the correct turn we saw it there almost on our doorstep.

Central and historic Luang Prubang is a peninsular formed by the Nam Khan River meeting the mighty Mekong. To this end its a good place to wander as you cannot get lost, you run out of land. In the evening the restaurants lit up by fairy lights and sitting alongside the Mekong almost turn a torch on the magic of the town. Added to this, the town circles Wat Phu Si on the hill looking down on the town. You have a great place to wander.

We were sat having fruit shakes as a sort of breakfast desert, and I was thumbing through the bible that is Lonely Planet. I seemed to remember a temple where the narrative in the book says, "Despite the onset of temple fatigue (after three weeks in Asia) Wat Xieng Thong in Luang Prubang completely seduced me...". Did you say Luang Prubang. I saw this ages ago and wasn't sure where the temple was, possibly in the south or miles from where we are. A quick look on the map and it was merely a 10 minute walk north east alongside the Mekong.

I must say it obviously meant more to the writer, than it did to us. I had seen much better temples, but it was pretty good to have another look at a golden Buddha, and maybe get some more merits. The fun happened when we also found out it was a working temple, where young monks are schooled. I saw a gang of monk teenagers, garbed in the usual orange and arm wrestling. I signaled asking if I could take a picture. They said no and I respected their wishes. For some reason, like a boy asking to join a game of football I asked to arm wrestle. They were pleased to oblige. The first one I beat quite easily, but the second was a little harder to beat and pushing his wrist down that extra inch and seeing his earnest muscles flex in determination not to be defeated was impressive. Still he went down. I feared they would all line up to beat chubby Goliath. However, by the third monk my arms muscles had given up and he beat me very quickly. That was entertaining. How many can say they've arm wrestled a monk?

Today we have Luang Prubang to ourselves until 5pm. Then we catch a 14 hour bus to Huay Xai. Huay Xai also sits on The Mekong. Although on the other side of the river is Chiang Khong in Thailand. Yes we've almost reached the end of Laos.

Laos has been good to us. It hasn't hassled us much. On reflection, I don't think the people are amazingly friendly. Being friendly takes effort and it seems Laotians run from any effort of any sort. You are warned as a westerner entering Laos, that Laotians move at their pace. This should be fine, but even the most chilled of us can find themselves tapping their feet when a waiter looks slowly for a calculator to work out the change of Kp17,000 when handed a Kp 20,000 note. Or it may be it is time for me to go home to my world. It's all a learning curve.

Days 172 to 175. Laos; Vientiane to Vang Vien

sing the riverboat song.

As soon as we entered Laos, what all had told me about Laotians seemed true. The visa on arrival was easy, and done in a friendly, if slow way. We were also told that Laotians move at their own speed. I was ready and fine with this. Our 30 day visas were issued in 10 minutes, and we exited out the other end of the building and we were in Laos. Beforehand a check that we'd purchased a visa from so border control. He and she both wore warm smiles. I picked up Khop Jay Lai Lai (thank you) and struggled it out. The border guard laughed beautifully at my pathetic pronounciation, slapped my arm, returned my passport, and we were in. The last new country of our journey... or is it?

The countryside as soon as you left Vietnam was worthy of the shires in Lord of the Rings. The rocky streams and sheer green mountains. We could see by the houses that we had joined poverty more closely related to rural Cambodia than Vietnam and Thailand. We left the border at about 8am and we would arrive into the outskirts of Vientiane at about 5pm that evening.

My initial flick through the guidebook, led me to think on the lines of heading north to Vang Vien, then East to where the Plain of Jars are. However, I got speaking to a Slovenian girl name Taz, who had been with us since Hanoi. She spoke of Luang Prubang and the north west of Laos. When I read more, it looked just what I was looking for to finish the last few weeks of the journey. Chilled out villages and towns, dotted along crisp mountain rivers. A route which made more sense being that we are to head from Northern Thailand to Bangkok to complete our travels.

We haggled with a van to drop us into central Vientiane, and ended up paying the equivalent of £3 each, quite steep. However we also noted that there seemed little competition or room to negotiate. We had to take the ride. How can I describe central Vientiane? With almost 5 months in Asia and arriving in big cities like Bangkok, Phnom Penh, Saigon, Kuala Lumpur etc, you expect some bussle. Vientiane is such a sleepy city. Not even a city really, it seems like a town. We were there on a Saturday and Sunday, but it seemed dead. The bars provided a little noise, but still it was very chilled. Tuk Tuk drivers were there and they would make you aware of their availability. But when you said no once, they accepted it instantly. No "where you going?" and pulling out a map of interesting places in the area. Laos is just what you need after months of being treated like an ATM by the locals.

In light of the quiet, we have no anecdotes of our time in Vientiane. Instead we headed north on Monday the 24th September to Vang Vien.

The bus left about 1 hour late, and this was largely due to a group of Spaniards who couldn't get their shit together. Their drinking and smoking was more important than anyone elses needs, including the driver who would was looking forward to being with his family again, after he driven these mashed up Mediteranean Morons for a day. In the last 5 minutes before we were definately leaving, one of the Spaniards decided he'd left his passport at the hotel and asked all to wait while he fetched it. He returned with the passport and several big bottles of Beer Lao to drink on the way.

Vang Vien, is a backpacker haven, and the main draw is the tubing. It's a simple activity. You rent a tube, get dropped off 3km up the river and float back to town. Up until recently this was a boozy activity. Bars would litter the river bank and Farang would get drunk and high, crash into rocks and die in droves. I was quite scared, to read several warnings about this. So when we went to rent the tubes I had a surge of reluctance and asked to switch to Kayaking. However the kayaking was a much more led tour, and much more expensive. I came to my senses in realising that the freedom activity was the tubing. I just didn't want to die. Luckily we found out the river was low, and this put my mind at rest.

We paid £4.25 for tube hire. A tuk tuk dropped us up the river and in we got. There was no skill involved really. Just get in and float. Maybe occasionally paddle yourself away from the bank and rocks, but nothing else to do except sit back. See the mountains pass by, and wave to locals on the river bank. The bars have now been all closed down, so the fatalities have hopefully decreased. We joined a German mother and daughter for the tubing. They made use of our rented water proof bag for their items. Also three Japanese were in our group. Apart from me being too absorbed in taking pictures than where I was going, hence getting caught in some branches for a while, nothing of excitement happened. This was the point, a relaxing chill on the river. I'm so glad Sarah made me do it. She was right, we can't come to Vang Vien (or even Laos for that matter) and not tube.

I'm not hugely attracted to Vang Vien. It seems everything I wanted to come to Laos to get away from. The drinking is prominent. The bars look a little like those in Pattaya Thailand. This dislike was further compounded by a loud drunken fight outside our room in the early hours. With the river enjoyed, I'm glad to be moving on.

Tomorrow we are heading to Luang Prubang. We are informed this is another Hoi An and Ubud. A cultural part of Laos, with chill and kraft shops. From there west to the Thai-Lao border. Then, and this is a possibility I am hoping for.We have read that just north of Chiang Rai in Thailand you can get a short visitors permit for Bhurma. Only one village, but that may be an extra country and one few I know have visited.

Right now, the tooth trouble which came in Ho Chi Minh City, has recurred. There is nothing I can do but pain killers until I get to Bangkok or Chiang Mai. But I've whinged enough about health matters in my past posts so I won't now.



 

Days 167 to 172. Hanoi to Ha Long Bay and goodbye Vietnam.

We arrived in Hanoi about 11:30am. The night train was neither the best nor the worst. We shared a 4 bed cabin with an Asian girl, who kept herself to herself.  In reaching the north of Vietnam, I was hoping to find something akin to our arrival in Istanbul, almost 5 months ago, but I didn't. It was all a bit anti-climax.

I was also hoping to see the glaring differences between north and south Vietnam, which so many had said is obvious. Nothing immediately jumped out. We were in Hanoi for 2 nights, and during that time we took a nice walk around the lake on our first night. The second day we were meant to go to Ho Chi Minhs Mausoleum and see Uncle Ho himself mummified. We learnt after the long hot walk to the area, that it closes at 11am. Still we walked and found a park to sit and chill. The mausoleum area, which also had the Presidential Palace is an impressive area. Wide empty roads, and huge flag poles make you imagine what the place must be like when used for a celebratory function.

The 19th of September and day 169 was the first of two nights in Ha Long Bay. The bus picked us up within the time frame promised and 4 hours later we were pulling up at the harbour to meet our boat. The large wooden oriental junk was replaced by a white piece of maritime crap, with flaking paint, and missing those important sails. Then again all other boats seemed to be missing those sails. Our cabin was comfy enough. Our guide had quickly took the guise of an impatient control freak, whos attempts at stand up comedy would be no source of insecurity to Jack Dee.

After being shown our cabins, we were given lunch. Lunch was reasonably okay. Rice, baked fish, stir fried veggies, spring rolls. We were offered a beer with our dinner. We knew drinks were extra, but VND 40,000 ($2) was daylight robbery. Those who thought that bringing their own drinks could save money would find that they would be charged a 'service charge' for those. The greedy mark-up on the drinks, would be something that would bite this tour company in the arse later, as most stayed sober and the late night party was flat for most.

The first stop was this enormous cave, which is impressive, but the artificial lights and man made fountains made it look so disney, the rocks looked like they were shaped from concrete. Still quite impressive.  Much more entertaining was seeing our boat carve up it's safety fence and the deck of another moored boat, in a pathetic attempt at parking (or whatever boats do). More Nikons were focused in on this than the caves. This happened just before we left the caves.

Next we went to a floating village to take up kayaking. I've not paddled a canoe in ages, not since college I think. Sarah never has kayaked before, but apart from a little steering communication difficulties, we got the thing moving pretty well. I really enjoyed it and maybe this could be a mid-life crisis hobby for me. It was quite entertaining to paddle out underneath a rock tunnel.

Ha Long Bay is utterly magnificent, nothing in my moans about being conned, should take away from the size and beauty of the place. Looking on Google Earth, the size it covers is immense. Large boats look dwarfed by the cliffs rising out the sea and covered in vegetation. It's not just a symbol of Vietnam, possibly a banner for the beauty of the South China Sea. With our shit little boat chugging along and seeing nothing but layers of the cliffs turning slightly blue with dusk, you suddenly felt very peaceful and philosophical.

On the way to where we would spend the night, I got chatting to some girls from Bristol. Two of them had been travelling for 10 months and the third had joined them for the last 7 weeks. One of them is returning to Australia to work on a farm, the others going back to uni. I was so inspired by their passion for life, and lack of any negativity. I yearned for the days when I was less grumpy and more ready to take the bull by the horns. Later that evening when the boat anchored up, and we had the option to jump off the top deck into the water, the first two were the Bristol girls. Followed by an American, then a Canadian, then me. The water at dusk, seemed warm but refreshing. Jumping from the height and for maybe only a second or two, being underwater in a maze of bubbles and confusion gives you a brief clarity. I did one more for the video, then showered for dinner. We went to bed early that night, or in my case fell asleep on the bed wearing my outdoor shorts.

Day 170, we started the day with a trek on Cat Ba Island. An island in the sense it is a cliff in Ha Long of the larger variety, possibly. The trek was to the top of a peak and further up to a lookout. It wasn't really hard, but with the heat and humidity and the rain, I would say it had a little discomfort. Occasionally on both our ascent and descent we had slippery rocks and rusty ladders to negotiate. The view from the top was limited as it was a cloudy day, but still you got a great sense of the magnificence of the green jagged landscape. Recently we had been lamenting how lazy we've become, so I'm glad we did it, and along with the canoeing the day prior, I felt happy we have got our exercise.

After the trek a  bus took us through the island to another harbour where we took the boat to where we were staying the night, Monkey Island. I'll save you the suspense in waiting for a story of monkey violence, which has been the theme for our Asian travels. We saw not a single monkey during our stay on the island, which suited me, and the monkeys. I had been looking to this part as the brochure showed us a picture of the bungalow we were to stay in. A large veranda, crisp sheets, and glass partitioned shower. My breaking point happened when we were taken to our "superior" bungalow. It was a bamboo hut, with no windows. The outside seating area was a log table and chairs. I was seething. I know roughing it is inevitable, but not when we'd parted with $215 for two. The ship fell short on the big junk cruiser we'd been promised. Sarah was tired of me being grumpy about this, and I couldn't help feeling conned as we were. My anger was energy which should not have been used to put pressure on a relationship, it should be used to good. I stormed to the guide, who was a little fucking nazi the whole trip (I never got his name so I will call him Pol Pot from now on), and asked why we'd been given a crap shack and not the bungalow with veranda, as in the brochure. The reason we paid an extra $30 each. He showed our names and "superior" next to them. "Superior" I spat "superior to what?. That would cost about $5 in Thailand". The guide ermed and aahed, and said nothing useful. In front of others (who would also complain themselves later) I snatched the keys out his hand with a "fuck this". I'd had it up to here with the way we are supposed to not get angry to Asians for fear they lose face. Well if they lie and con and harrass you, maybe they should lose face. In any case I wanted face for a change.

It made me remember December 2008, when I was late for a connecting flight in Detroit to London. I arrived at the desk and asked when the next flight is. "Tomorrow, same time 8pm" the professional but clever American customer services told me. She smelt my vulnerability. Or saw it in my accent and bad teeth. "So are you covering the cost of a hotel?" I asked too feebly. "I'm sorry sir, weather is something outside of our control, we are not liable. Please check downstairs for hotel recommendations, there will be a free shuttle". "Oh thanks so much, sorry to bother you". I made my way to my grief hole for the night, on the free shuttle. This was after hearing a yank on the phone with the same problem. "Now what I need you to do, is put me on flight xxx tomorrow, we will require an upgrade as compensation, and free champagne and a blow job sent to our room". This time at Monkey Island I wasn't going to be the pathetic Brit too embarrased to kick up a fuss. I was going to be That American guy.In fact if I can have my new years resolutions early. It is to be 'That American Guy' at Detroit airport from now on. I have less than 20 days of travel left and it won't be spent with Ting Tong flipping me over a bamboo table and banging me dry.

Despite him telling us not to, as we were on a Happy Saga Tour type schedule and not free to relax, I went back and changed before dinner, taking longer than the 15 minutes Pol Pot had assigned us. After dinner he pulled me aside, and put his manager on the phone. I couldn't understand much, but long-story-short they upgraded us to the bungalow we booked in then first place. Half of me felt grateful for Pol Pot making the call. Then I immediately felt mad that I had to kick up a stink to get some of what we paid for. He received no tip. In any case his company would mess up some more before we boarded our bus to Laos.

The dinner that evening of a barbecue and buffet was very good to be honest. Oysters and pork. Plenty of chips and good rice, and much more which filled my plate. We sat with a Malaysian called Ben. His actual name was longer, but he Westernised it for me and others. After dinner I played him a couple of games of pool. We won one each. Sarah and I played eachother at Ping Pong and she won one game. She is quite good.

According to Pol Pot we had to be packed and sat for breakfast by 7:15 hours on our relaxing Ha Long tour. This we did and we were on the boat leaving by 7:45 sharp. As the boat pulled away we looked back at the splendor of Monkey Island, while listening to the German girl in our group complaining how she'd been unfairly charged extra for something she was no doubt told was included in the original price. All these complaints seemed to betray the reason why the unsubtle tip envelopes left on our tables the night prior, were left conspicuously thin.

It was a short boat-trip back to Cat Ba Island then the bus to the harbour, then a small boat to a bigger main boat to take us the remainder of the journey. We were sat for over and hour on the main boat, and with that and other delays exceeding hours at a time, you got to wondering why we had to get up so early. Eventually the boat chugged away and en route I finished The Beach by Alex Garland. So good a book, you want to tell whichever studios concerned that they should remake the movie, and do it properly this time. The main difference being that Richard was British and didn't shag anyone in any of the 438 pages I read. Although in the film Leo DeCap was up to his nuts in every attached girl he could find. Unneccesary and misleading to the plot. Back to the boat trip. We sat on the deck soaking in the rays and watching the rocks and islands pass by, and this was a good moment. Then we were called to lunch as we approached the harbour of Ha Long City.

At our table were Ben, the Malaysian we befriended a Dutch guy, who had overslept and was in his boxers when Pol Pot knocked on his door to say we were leaving. Also a couple of Israelis. The conversation kicked off by Ari talking to Ben and asking him to show how his passport clearly states that he is not permitted to enter Israel. It also leads on to how Israelis aren't allowed to enter Malaysia. This is the same for Pakistan and many other Islamic countries. I wanted to say "good for Malaysia, it was the same for South Africa in the 70s and 80s, that is the correct way to treat states which foster racism and apartheid ". I held my tongue as I wanted to listen. I saw in front of me two people I liked. Two people who realised how much they need America, how much they dislike Prime Minister Ntenyahu's war mongering, and two people who have a fear that Israel will attack Iran. Two people who will be more at risk than I from the consequences of this decision made by suited politicians and arm chair generals safely tucked away in Washington and Jerusalem. It is funny because usually when I meet Israelis, they are arrogant and easy to dislike. This is easier for me. Two likeable Israelis and Ari who liked big gigs and was at V 2005 in Chelmsford watching Oasis, sharing the same field as me, was uncomfortable in some ways. All Israelis are conscripted by law to serve in the army. Therefore, there was a huge likelihood that these two in front of me had taken an active part in the machinations of what I consider one of the worlds evil states.  I don't know, I liked them a lot.

The bus was supposed to get us back to Hanoi for 4:30pm as we were to catch a night bus to Vientiane in Laos that evening. We spent an hour or more sat in a marina waiting room (this could have been done in bed or the beach). Pol Pot ordered us outside 30 minutes before the bus arrived, saying it is almost here. For a while we all stood with our back-packs on, before realising it would be a while so one by one we all dropped them on the floor. Then one by one we all found a place to sit on the floor. When the bus actually arrived, Pol Pot shouted "everyone stand up". We obeyed, what else could we do.

They crammed us on a minivan, and off we set, destined to reach our pick up point for the bus at 5pm. Leaving little margin for error. On the journey back we saw something pretty amazing. A monk had set himself the task of walking from South to North Vietnam, only bowing and kissing the road every three steps. Amazing acheivement. I hope he finds a good chiropractor at the end of his quest. It had taken him 4.5 years when we saw him passing on the road between Hanoi and Ha Long City.

We reached the travel agents in Hanoi at about 5:10pm. Pol Pot rang ahead and said they would wait for us. We believed him. At this stage I want to hope that Trekking Tours of 47 Hang Be, Hanoi comes up in a google search. As well as a lady called Bich Dung working as one of their agents at The Binh Duong Hotel in Hue. DO NOT USE THESE USELESS MORONS!!!!!!

The brochures will be exaggeration to say the least, but using them for a connection bus on the day gives you the stress you will have paid considerable money to alleviate. The connection to the bus for Vientiane was the worse part. One we reached TREKKING TOURS of 47 HANG BE, HANOI. We went upstairs and said who we were and she said, it should be here by 5:45pm. We sat there waiting in a cafe, hungry but not able to order any food less the bus arrive. 5:55pm passed and I went upstairs. She was confused we were still here. At 6:10pm two motorcycles turned up. They were for us. They popped on our ruck-sacks, gave us a helmet then sped off into the Hanoi night with us on the back. This was our shuttle to the bus station.

At first it was pretty exciting being out there whizzing around Hanoi amongst all the other bikes. I looked across to Sarah. I'm not sure she was enjoying it as much as I, so I smiled at her and hoped to cheer her up. The bikes made a concerted effort to stay together for a little while, but soon I lost sight of Sarah's bike and this made me uncomfortable. My drivers English was limited to "ok" or "no problem" and getting answers in time and distance was hard. Getting an answer to "please can you tell you friend with my wife to wait for us to catch up", was fruitless. At once you start to question what you are doing. This was compounded when we made two laps around the lake, and my driver looked lost and doubled back on himself a few times. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit scared that the driver had motored off with Sarah, took her down a small alley and raped and murdered her. A more likely worry is that an accident happened with Sarah's driver and she had no way of getting hold of me. I've just turned round and asked Sarah my mobile number and she doesn't know it now, and wouldn't have known it then. In my mind I played over scenarios of me running to the US Embassy first, as Sarah is the priority. If I ran to the British one first, and she was alive, she'd never forgive me and call me a coward.

Obviously as I'm typing this now in Vientiane, it all worked out and the motorcycles reunited me with my wife and we boarded the bus. The bus was another sleeper, but the excitement of the day meant sleep wasn't as hard as it had been on other sleeper coaches. I woke up at 3:15am, got back to sleep but woke as the coach came to a halt at about 6:20am on 22nd September, day 172. We were parked just before a red striped barrier. We had reached the Viet-Lao Border. It would open at 7am, and until then we sat and waited watching the new sun over the misty mountains.

The Viet-Lao Border

Vietnam deserves a summary as the country we spent the longest amount of time in. I looked on it as an epic overland journey, or even a big part of the epic overland we have been on since leaving Singapore on 9th August. The truth for me is the Ha Long Bay trip should have been the cherry on the cake. In fact I remember blogging saying that Vietnam may end up being the cherry on the cake (or did I say the 'icing'?). If so it was a horrible plastic cherry, not a real one. Asia is beautiful, but sometimes tourism has a knack of making Asians take a wonderful place like Ha Long and fucking it up entirely. Ha Long may be a better experience for someone else, but from the Canadian in Hanoi, who said "most people are dissappointed" to the majority of our co-travellers on the cruise, and a Slovenian girl who travelled with us to Vientiane, it was bitter-sweet. I've been advised the same dissappointment can be derived from a visit to Sapa and the rice terraces in Nam.

But that was the north, and we were not there long, so it's unfair to judge the country by that. My experience of the South. Ho Chi Minh City, the Mekong Delta, the enchanted port of Hoi An, the rainy but refreshing Dalat and more is very positive. Vietnam is such a photogenic country. It's been an experience I will remember for the rest of my life, good and bad. The 28 days will be replayed in anecdotes to work colleagues, whether they like it or not, for a good long while. I'm trying to take one thing where Nam excelled, and I think I will say the food. By that I mean Pho Bo and fresh spring rolls. Of all the experiences and recipes I will try and seek out back in the West, this may be my priority. Also I wouldn't be me if I didn't make a political opinion here and I think the way Nam has progress from the most brutal war, to what it is today. A war that not only caused structural damage, but pitted north vs south. Of course the tensions between north and south exist today, but god knows the tensions of The American Civil War, 150 years ago leaves a trace of animosity between the northern and southern states, even if this generation doesn't know it exists. I like to think of the Vietnamese spirit being; get right back up after knocked down.

Days 164 to 166. Hue

Hue is a town of much cultural importance, while not as pretty as Hoi An. Half way up the long lanky country that is Vietnam, it is for many a huge jump to or from Hanoi, as there many seem to feel there is little to do in between. This is probably incorrect, but we have made it our last call of South Vietnam. It is an ancient and cultural capital of Vietnam. The place of the Emperors and their tombs. Hanoi is the current post-independence capital and Saigon the colonial capital, from where the French governed.

We started our investigation proper of Hue on 14th September, and day 164, with a visit to the Citadel. We missed out on China, and therefore the Forbidden City in Beijng. This Citadel, which housed a Vietnamese Emperor or two, was a good a substitute as possible. The cost was a hefty $3.80 per person, but inside it is quite large. Maybe a plus for us was, the place wasn't crowded at all and many a time we had one of the copious temples just to ourselves. The gardens so tranquil and the moats and lakes filled with flowers. A map of sorts, was on the ticket we purchased, but we largely just wandered. The Citadel possibly dominates the shape of Hue, or at least that side of the river. When we looked at the map in the guidebook, the organised streets and canals, looked like modern town planning, but are in fact quite old. As always I've left a few links to Hue and the Citadel in case there is interest in the history and details.

Day 165 we booked ourselves on a boat trip on The Perfume River. The wide river divides Hue between the Citadel and the part of the city where most of us stay. The day of the trip didn't start well, and the problems originated from the night before. As always a 6am alarm, means a good nights sleep is sought, but as you really need sleep, it's hard to get it. This was further frustrated as Sarah and I had an air conditioning disagreement. She was too cold and me too hot. I didn't sleep at all well, and neither did Sarah. When we woke at 6am, the rain outside was hammering down, Vietnam style. Both of us voiced wanting to cancel. Being on a boat in this rain was a further drain on enthusiasm, to the lack of sleep. The lady on reception, offered us the same trip on the bus. This may seemed better, but to be honest the boat trip was all I wanted. The tombs and temples on the way, well I've seen so many tombs, temples and old shit. We asked to postpone to tomorrow, but apparently is was going to rain all week like this. We went ahead with the trip.

On the way we allied ourselves with an incredible French guy from Bordeaux. His English was better than my French (it always is) however it wasn't the best and I really got to practise my French as we alternated our languages to be understood. I think we were happy to practise off each other. On the boat he showed us pictures of Halong Bay, the penultimate stop on our Vietnamese adventure. He got a one day tour on a boat for $100 from Hanoi to Halong Bay and back again. We first thought it too expensive, but then he showed us the pictures. It coloured our decision later and we booked a 2 days tour of Halong Bay for $105 each on a luxury boat and a luxury bungalow apartment on Halong Bay for next week. I really enjoyed Nicolae tagging along with us. Such a ladies man, and I know Sarah had a little crush. His photos on the cruise of Halong, which included a couple of girls on his bed, made me admire this fun loving, easy going solo travelling Gaul. His Gallic shrugs, every 10  minutes, gave me a little of a man crush also to be honest. I forgot to ask his email, and he is going in the opposite direction to us. Like ships in the night.

The guidebooks will say the trip along the Perfume River is a must. It really is not. Not as much as a must as The Mekong Delta for example. I'm not sure why it's called Perfume, not because of the smell. It doesn't smell bad, or smell at all. I would just assume there would be a smell, due to the name. It's just a muddy river which passes some nice countryside, but just as frequently ducks under an ugly concrete fabricated bridge. Then again, we got the trip on a gloomy and rainy day. Maybe on a bright day, a much better experience is to be had. Then again, almost everything looks good in the sun.

The itinerary of the boat trip included a Garden Palace, a temple and three tombs of Emperors. The guide gave us some facts about the Emperors have 100s of wive, and concubines. A little like Tiger Woods I suppose. Again I'm going to be lazy and guide you to the links, should you be interested in the details of visiting them. This blog may be running out of momentum, as I'm getting a little disinterested in palaces and tombs. In any case those who know me, know modern history is my passion and I will listen attentively to a guide speaking on anything from the 20th Century onwards, but the I find myself challenged to pay attention to ancient temples, but I do try honest.

The three tombs we visited at $3.80 each were the tombs of Emperors Tu Doc, Ming Mang and Khai Dinh. They were all very tranquil places to visit, and wander. Many featuring Chinese looking stilt houses over water lily covered lakes. My indifference here is a reflection of travel fatigue, and the weather on the day, and not to take anything away from the tombs. It is also nice to see what a huge ancient and traditional culture Vietnam has, and that there is so much more to it than the 10 years of war they had.

Our craft stop (and there is always one place where they stop to show you how something is made) was a conical hat and incense stick factory. I did however gratefully succumb to buying an incense stick holder in the shape of two hands pressed together. I wanted it badly and bargained the lady down from VND 350,000 to VND 250,000 (just over $10). This is also a gift to my Buddha back home, and I hope it beings me luck.

Right now we paid $6 to keep our room until 5pm. We have an overnight train to catch to Hanoi at 8pm. The weather is menacing, raining on and off. We found paying $6 preferable to killing time by diving into cafes to escape the weather. In any case we would spend the same amount in boredom keeping dry and eating noodles we didn't really want.

Our booked plans take us up until the evening of the 22nd September. We have 2 nights reserved in a hotel in Hanoi, then 2 nights on a Halong Bay trip explained earlier, then on 21st September, we have a 30 hour, yes a 30 hour bus trip from Hanoi to Vientiane in Laos. We have 24 days of Asia left, and it looks like we are making the most of it.

Days 161 to 163 - Hoi An

Fishermen near Hoi An

The town of Hoi An lives up to its hype as a town stuck in the past. Indeed in it a world UNESCO Heritage site. It's easy to see why. Our first night we walked towards the Ancient Town, and wandered through the streets lit with Chinese Lanterns. We found ourselves by the river bank and a little Taverna where we sat drinking gin and watching the peace of the boats on the water, and lit lanterns floating on the river. Very serene.

The morning after we woke up late and after a breakfast of Pho Bo, we made our way to the water again and to see what we saw yesterday in the daylight. Of course the ambience of the small Chinese looking shops lit up was different, but daylight did nothing to rob Hoi An's Ancient City of it's beauty. I want to describe Hoi An as being to Vietnam as Ubud is to Bali. The shops are overwhelmingly craft shops, art shops, photography shops. There is a big representation from tailors, but it feels like you are wondering around somewhere steeped in culture. The art I liked was the abstract paintings, symbolising the Vietnamese people in conical hats. Perfectly formed works and free from stereotype. The photography showing fishermen throwing nets in black and white, was something I felt I wanted to purchase. Instead I set out to copy it with a photo of my own (see top).

Bridges of Hi An County

We took a boat trip for an hour up the river, just Sarah and I. Past the markets, the thin tall houses and out into the brown river away from the port town. We met up with some fishermen as we were supposed to. They threw the nets for our benefit and showed off their catch.  Then one comes aboard our boat, with his net and offers me the chance to throw it, which of course I did. I wasn't very good as a fisherman and got the net stuck in the deck boards of the ship and briefly worried if I'd broken his nets and his livelihood. This was an irrational fear, we as tourists were his livelihood. He asked us for money, I gave him VND20,000, he said no VND100.000. VND20,000 was all he got.

Another evening on the town ensued, again drawn like moths to a lamp with the bridges spanning the river, covered in lanterns. This was truly a very magical town. We were staying on a less magical side, but the walk towards the centre was very short.

The last evening in Hoi An, we found ourselves taking advantage of the countless restaurants in the side streets selling beer at VND 3000 a glass. A half pint glass, but at 10p that is a bargain. Suddenly we had two smiling Germans saying hello. They were our next door neighbours in Nha Trang. Mike and Sabrina were their names and we asked them to sit and join us for a beer. With 10p a beer and Mike being German, there were copious amounts consumed. Together we talked about new Europe, holiday allowances in Germany, UK and USA. Sarah did it first, she mentioned Hitler. "Don't mention the war" the Basil Fawlty in me shouted. But we did and it was an interesting perspective from Germans, and what their grandparents went through. Apart from that we are travelling in the same direction and I hope we meet up again. We shared travel stories, and experiences. They gave me their email, and maybe we will see them in Hanoi.

Today we edged further up the coast to the city of Hue. We have had a brief explore today, and the attraction seems to be a big citadel, a forbidden palace of sorts. Tomorrow we are exploring on bikes. The more we move north, the more real Vietnam looks. This comes at a cost however. Travelling on the sleeper buses is a big discomfort. As we approach the last 12 days of our Vietnam Visa, we have to make a few jumps in distance. We have to suck it up. Vietnam will probably be the country we've explored the most. The geography of the country, being long and thin, means that south to north (or visa versa) itineraries are norm, and in land travel between to two big cities of HCMC and Hanoi, much is seen in between.

Days 156 to 160. Nha Trang

Vinpearland Resort with cable car in background

The bus arrived at about 1pm to take us on the 4 hour journey to Nha Trang on the coast. It was with this bus we first experienced the famous 'sleepers' that seem so common place in Vietnam. At first glance they look very comfy. What could be wrong in seats reclined far back, and the back seat a full size bed, better suited to a bedouin tent? It's actually quite uncomfortable to travel this way during the day. You watch the scenery go past in a lying down position, which is a bastard for travel sickness. This is furthermore a shame, as the scenery through the Highlands of winding roads and deep valleys filled with cloud, is pretty inspiring. Therefore, my necked cricked as I strove to see it go past in an upright position. The effort was worth it.

We arrived about 6pm into Nha Trang and haggled down a taxi driver, exploiting our freshness to the area. Our hotel was perfect and is called Pho Bien. A room can be as little as $10 or as much as $15 if you want what we had, a large penthouse balcony overlooking the sea and islands.  We were very spoilt and left wondering when the next shitty hotel will come from.

Nha Trang is a seaside town, but calling it a seaside town invites mental comparison with Skegness or Blackpool. In fact it is possibly more the French model of seaside town. While not fully achieving this aim, it maybe set out to be a Cannes in the Orient.  A long beach parallels the town, with a promenade permanently decorated. Sometimes with well sculptured shrubbery, and other times with a bit of socialist flag waving and concrete structures.

We noticed from our balcony letters spelling Vinpearl on a hill on an island, Hollywoodesque. We asked a Kiwi who we struck a conversation with, what it was. He said it was Vietnam's Disneyland, and those little lit up 'Eiffel Towers' are in fact cable cars to transport you there, should you wish. So that was the next day sorted.

We decided to walk to the start of the cable car which looked quite near at first, but after an hour walking and slowly running out of beach promenade, and wandering into a less attractive area, we suddenly were aware we bit off  more than we could chew. My foot wear choice of flip-flops became agony. In the end we found the cable car, and sweating like pigs in a sauna, we collapsed with a Pepsi, and in my case I stuck my head under a fountain. The cost was $21 for the 3km cable ride (the longest in the world we were told), and entry into Vinpearland Resort with its roller coasters and water parks. It was a splurge for our budget, but still we were mindful that something like this would cost twice as much back home.

As well as the waterpark type slides and stuff, there was a beach with added sand and equipped with every type of amenity in showers etc to counteract all about a real beach that is uncomfortable. As I said it was a waterpark and most of us know what that entails, so I'm not going to waste time describing ride by ride and slide by slide. However, to get in before Sarah does, the family slide using a double inner tube scared the shit out of me.  Looking down the lip of the slide looked way too low, and my fear of sliding off it and onto the ground far below was intense. To Sarahs constant mocking I can be quoted as saying, pretty much all the way down, "I don't like this, I really don't like this".  We finished with a quick visit to the aquarium, with an impressive line in sharks, manta rays and ladies dresses as mermaids. It was a good day out.

Saturday 8th September and day 158, we booked on a boat trip around the island. We were picked up about 8:45am and taken to the docks and the waiting boat. On the boat we saw we were the only non-Vietnamese passengers. We were concerned, as we had paid a good $7 and we would have hoped any guide would have been English. My grumpy nature came to its fullest in the boat as we were sat down patient and confused, then the boat filled with Vietnamese. Now I'm going to sail dangerously close to racism now, but Vietnamese on boat trips are like kids on a school trip. Maybe it's the shrill tone of voice, maybe its the inability to perform a single movement without it being on camera. They got excited about life jackets, the sea and everytime someone pulled out a camera. It was overwhelming.

Our fears were partly abated as the master of ceremonies spoke English also. Although I was suspicious that the speil in Vietnamese would always take 10 times longer than our speil in English.  Still we were told that our first stop would be an hour on this island where we could snorkel and take a glass bottom boat, all within an hour.  The glass bottom boat produced more shreiks of excitement. The coral is alway impressive, although it is much less colourful near Nha Trang than say The Red Sea or The Great Barrier Reef. Still our Vietnamese co-passengers would squeal at any fish, or even a piece of rope from the anchor. The snorkelling was just a snorkel and a climb over a very rocky beach. There seemed like nothing to see. Which was just as well, the masks were as watertight as a tea-bag.

lunch on a boat

We knew we had to be back at the boat for 11:30, so we waited there and tried to find our guide. He was eating. We got back on the boat for noon in the end and all the food was laid out. Where the chairs were, there was now a big table of rice, noodles, veg, soup, bananas, spring rolls. It looked very good. Also like kids the Vietnamese became quiet when food was there. As sure as my darling nephews and nieces will be angels in McDonalds, the Vietnamese were angelic guests. This is where I felt very well at home, and even missed the England I grew up in, because Vietnamese have such wonderful considerate table etiquette. Food was passed to us so much, and we gathered we should do the same. You never had to ask for the soy, as dinner guests they are so attentive to eachother, they pass it knowing you've looked that way. This is so different to other settings where Asians have less respect for queuing or personal space. You can be pushed past a lot, but at meal times it is heaven.

After lunch we stopped somewhere with the boat, and the meal table became a stage for music and dancing. The day was fast turning from annoying to amazing. The drum set was made out of plastic containers, only the cymbal and guitar were real. The MC, who by now had set himself as a ladies man came out with shorts and two coconuts as tits and sung some songs. I was distracted for a moment, but the next minute there he was reaching for my hand. He called me up and asked me to sing Yellow Submarine, which I did with gusto. Sarah was called up to sing two songs, the second of which was Celine Dions, My Heart Must Go On. She did it justice.

Then we were in the sea, everyone jumping off the side of the boat, even the top bit which was quite a height. In the water a floating bar was there offereing Sangria. I had a couple, while floating in the blue South China Sea. Bullied up with Sangria confidence, I climbed to the top deck of the boat and jumped in. Like a boss!!

That was pretty much the day and in the taxi on the way back I felt sorry (as I often do) for being such a grump in the beginning. I realised that had the boat been full of self conscious white people, there would have been less singing and dancing. For some reason, I felt less self conscious around the Vietnamese. It's just sometimes, if they could be a lot less excitable.

On Day 159 we had yet another day filler as we were catching the nightbus to Hoi An in the middle of Vietnam. As it happens it was an easy day to fill. After breakfast we got ourselves some chairs and a shade on the beach, for about $1.50 each for the whole day. Sipping Tiger Beer and occasionally dipping in the slightly choppy ocean, meant the day went very fast. The sea around Nha Trang becomes very murky towards the afternoon and polution puts you off swimming later. If not for that, I could have put Nha Trang as my favourite beach so far. As it stands my favourite beach remains Maenam on Koh Samui. Sarah's is Kuta in Bali.

We were on a sleeper-bus to take us the 12 hour journey up the coast to Hoi An. Here is another travel tip for Vietnam. If you have the budget or the time, don't use sleepers for day or night. I have yet to use a Vietnamese train so I may adjust this advice. The bed is small for me, and I'm wide but not incredibly tall. I saw a gentleman of the larger variety really struggling to climb into his bunk. Keeping your valuables safe is a chore and takes up more of the precious room. If you can get comfy, there is no getting around the fact that you are being driven by a Vietnamese driver. It is important to a Vietnamese driver to beep the horn if he is about to brake, sees a car, a person, thinks he saw a person. If you can find a way to sleep with a car beeping fest, in a bed which turning over gives you cramp each time and sends you personal effects hurtling to the ground on top of a very understanding young lady, then you are a better person than me.

So today, 10th September and day 160, we are in Hoi An. Our sleepless journey, has left us paralysed with fatigue, so I have nothing to report on the area as yet. We will be here for two nights at least, then to Hue, then another long journey to Hanoi. That journey will definately be done on the train.

maybe the last beach photograph of our 2012 travels.

Day 155 - Elephant Falls

We were out sitting on our steps of the hotel at 8:20am scoffing cakes from the bakery up the road and waiting for the tour to start. We were joined by some young little bohemians from all over mainland Europe, who were doing the same tour. It seemed that there were more than could fit into a single van, so we were put into two groups. The managers put us with an older Australian couple, a young Vietnamese family with a child, as I guess we weren't hip enough to hang with the kids. The kicker here is, I think we got on so well with the older Australian couple and had much in common, which is therefore a statement on our age.

Can I skip through the first stop which was a flower garden. I wasn't listening at all, but I saw flowers and sniffed a few. Great!

Next to see a coffee plantation, and they wouldn't let me have time to have a cup of coffee and I really wanted one. I learnt that Arabica coffee beans are most popular in the west for their smoothness. Robusta are the other main kind, which are stronger and more bitter. These are more likely to come from Vietnam. We did grab a coffee elsewhere. I tried some weasel coffee. Those reading my blogs religiously obviously remembered my birthday and describing Luwak Coffee in Bali. This is the same thing really. They feed the beans to the weasel, he shits them out and the poo is collected and then the coffee process begins. The finish product was a lovely chocolate tasting thick coffee. This isn't an ideal description for something that has come out of a weasels arse. We met the weasels concerned, and snappy hyperactive things they are too. My finger was going nowhere near the cage.

Later we stopped at a cricket farm. The crickets are farmed for food, and we of course tried some. They are kept in open pits and you wonder whats stopping them from leaving, but they don't. The finished product was a saucer of the buggers pan fried in oil, mustard and lemongrass. Picked up with a tooth-pick, dipped in chilli jam and eaten. The texture is crunchy like a bar snack. The flavour, past the chilli, is pretty disgusting according to me. I tried them, I was open minded, but I won't be stopping for more.

A quick stop at a silk farm and factory, showing us the process from silk worm to cloth and embroidery was mildly interesting but I was more interested in the next stop; Elephant Waterfalls. 

To be honest I could have just done Elephant Falls and forgotten about the other crap. Maybe a waterfall tour as there are other ones in the area. The falls are quite near the car park so no distance trekking is needed at all. However, once you arrive you have to negotiate down some dodgy steps and some very slippery rocks to get to the bottom of the falls. With many people there, and a slip meaning a bone breaking (but probably not lethal) fall, it seems a dangerous activity. That said three of us of the group of 5 (not counting the child) walked to the bottom. At the bottom you walk through a naturally formed rock tunnel and you are near as damn it under the waterfall. The sound is deafening. I got as far under as I could, but the spray drenched me in seconds. Photography was impossible while under it. It was so refreshing, I wish it was a hotter day, or I bought more clothes and could have got even closer. 

A quick visit to a Big Buddha temple, the Buddha was of the fat laughing variety. Sarah's favourite, not mine, as  I think it has no dignity. Then lunch at some place designated for us. Up to now we were always coy about places to eat chosen for us by guides. This place was an excellent choice, we sat over looking the lake and eating food as inexpensive as anywhere. We talked quite a bit with the Australian couple about many things. I actually really liked and admired this couple, who travel in their later years, and I hope we find a way to do the same in the autumn of our life. The lady part-owned a pharmacy, and the husband a successful taxi business in Tasmania. With others to look after the business they were free to travel for months at a time. She summed up her feelings as a self-confessed 'grand-boomer'. "We earned all this money, saw our children travel off to exotic places with what we earned, so why can't we do it too?". Being pretty much an orphan myself, and not understanding having to rely on parents and having zero sense of entitlement, I was totally comfortable with the idea of this couple enjoying the fruits of their labour. 

walking all over 'Crazy House'

The last stop was called 'The Crazy House', because it is crazy shaped. Very crazy shaped indeed actually. One of those places with extremely quirky architecture, and steps and pathways leading you everywhere. I believe it was designed by the daughter of Ho Chi Minh's right hand man with the aim of being a hotel. It is used as a hotel sometimes and very interesting bedrooms it has too. The cost of a night in many rooms is $90, and this seems more than worth it. However, a visit and getting yourself lost in tunnels and steps is such fun. I particularly liked the steps that were narrow and weaved like ivy over the top of the central building.

Anyway that was our day. The rain held off for all of it, except when we were under cover at lunchtime. We finished the day booking our onward tickets to Nha Trang on the coast. We are leaving at lunchtime tomorrow. 

NO DIGNITY!!

Days 152 to 154. Dalat in the Highlands

"You fly off to a strange land, eagerly abandoning all the comforts of home, and then expend vast quantities of time and money in a largely futile attempt to recapture the comforts that you wouldn't have lost if you hadn't left home in the first place" Bill Bryson

Day 152 and Sunday 2nd was spent killing time as we felt we'd done all that requires money in HCMC. We did however spend time taking a stroll towards the park and the Reunification Palace. Then around keeping west of the Palace we walked to a charming square with Notre Dame Cathedral to its centre. All very pristine and neat.

I'm  not sure why, but I wanted to check seeing The Saigon River off my list. A list that I hadn't necessarily made before arriving in HCMC. To do that we carried on walking from Notre Dame Cathedral and past what looked an amazingly wealthy area. You know, merchant banks, shops like Gucci with seemingly little stock, fewer customers and a bored snob of a shop assistant. The one irony I saw was the Vietnamese Flag, the yellow star symbolising the 5 aspects of socialism (agrarian, industry...oh look it up) against the red background flying proudly to the side of a Louis Vuitton store. I immediately thought; what a long way this country has come in such a short time.  Walls of a building site were covered with posters detailing the new developments to come to this city. Where's their austerity? Where's their recession?

The Saigon River isn't eye opening, at least not where we joined it. I hoped for a promenade similar to Sisowath Quay in Phnom Penh, but looking for comparisons is often dissappointing. There are a few restaurants, and pricey hotels, and maybe a few booze cruises docked. We headed back to our area. HCMC was coming to an end, and I think we got all we needed to from it.

On day 153, after breakfast we caught the bus for Dalat. The bus left at 10:30 and was scheduled to take 7 hours. The bus was a bright orange colour, looked tidy and comfy so we thought we'd be surrounded by other backpackers. We were the only westerners on the bus. Important announcements were told in Vietnamese and this was almost our undoing at the first stop. About noon we stopped at a petrol station, and food court. The driver announced something and everybody got off. We both used the loo and walked up and down questioning whether to get some food. Once in the shop we saw the bus reversing out. I shouted around the shop for Sarah, and we ran to the bus and jumped on, very close call. A few others stopped the reversing process and jumped on. A mile or two up the road, the conductor decided this was a good time to do a head count. Good system.

The journey went really fast considering it was 7 hours. I'm reading J D Salinger, Catcher in the Rye at the moment, and it isn't grabbing me. Famous more as the book Mark Chapman was reading when arrested for shooting John Lennon, Sarah told me it is excellent. I'm half way through now and don't see the excellence. Therefore, it wasn't the book that made the time seem shorter.

It was during the journey and once stopped at a cafe I had this little epiphany relating to Vietnam. That is Vietnam, doesn't really look like Vietnam at all. This stands to reason I suppose. We mostly know Vietnam from films, and on one count we are looking at an Asian country in the 60s. Secondly, almost every Vietnam film is filmed somewhere else. Platoon was filmed in the Philipines I believe, and many others were in Thailand. The palm tree forests, aren't as prolific as in Thailand or Malaysia. This stuck out more as we approached the Highlands, where our destination Dalat is. As we climbed the hills in the coach, the trees were mostly pine trees. The roads are big and well maintained. This comes out in our attitude to Vietnam. With all the meddling during the 60s and 70s. USA telling one half how to be democratic and capitalist. The USSR and China telling the other how to farm, fight and make stuff. You can easily fall in the trap of thinking this is a country like Israel and South Korea that needs constant spoon-feeding to simply function as a nation. Once here that impression desolves faster than a sugar cube in hot water. You see a country that looks very self-determined, mature and sure of its future. If Cambodia is beautiful but battered lady, slowly succeeding in retrieving her deserved dignity, then Vietnam is a cocky little bastard who you knows he's put all his eggs in the right basket.

We arrived in Dalat about 6pm to darkness and rain.  A taxi took us the 4km into town for VND60,000 (£2 or $3). We singled out a hotel called Hotel Phuong Hanh, (80 - 82 D 3 Thang 2). I've named it as it turns out to be a bargain of a place, and I would like to give it a recommendation. We paid $10 for a room which is so spacious, two double beds, television and a fridge. The bedding is a soft duvet. There is no need for AC here as the weather in Dalat is considerably less Asian and very British. Comparisons are quickly drawn with The Cameron Highlands in Malaysia. However, these comparisons are very limited. Dalat isn't a hill station of any description. The Dalat area is the food basket of Vietnam however, as The Cameron Highlands are to Malaysia. Still apart from a respite from the heat, the places aren't the same.

The rain came down in torrents as we left the hotel to grab some food. We wanted food but being drenched and cold (haven't said that in a while) we urgently needed shelter. We found a place with a very limited menu. We were the only ones there, but we landed on our feet. This place was to spring rolls like, Bar Burrito in Manchester is to (uhh) Burritos. You build them yourselves from the menu. Picking the skin, the fillings and sides. The barbecued pork was somewhere between ham and the thick tasty bacon. I was feeling adventurous, I've now mastered chop sticks I think (even a rice dish in HCMC was 75% chop stick eaten before I resorted to a spoon), and I'm believing I'm really Asian. With my meal, also a bowl of rice noodles and pork, I also ordered some Corn Milk. I was asked to by the waitress and I wanted to try it if only not to dissappoint her. I took one sip with hesitation, casting my mind back to Koh Kong Village, Cambodia in 2002, when my sister and I were given thick shakes containing milk, oil and fish sauce, and watched as we drank. This time, different. I liked it. I'm not sure what the calorific or cholestrol value of this was, but it was warming and tasty. I'm not sure if it is a kiddies drink or not as it is even sweeter than sweetcorn, but I could imagine loving it as a child.

Some westerners, the first we'd seen since HCMC came into the cafe and sat down for a while, they looked at the menu in the same questioning way we did initially. They were too intimidated by it, they left without ordering. Their absolute loss, because the meal came in with 2 starters 3 main dishes, tea, corn milk and a sprite for £3. The spring rolls were closer in look to the fresh variety, not the deep fried ones serve in Iceland adverts. However, they were also soft, like Polish Peroggis (Sarah told me a few million times).

I've stuck about 95% to Vietnamese or Asian foods while in Nam. The exceptions have been a bowl of chilli and a panini for breakfast. Apart from that only noodles, rice, soups etc. You know what, I love the way I feel, as it feels like I'm getting all the goodness I need, and the North of England denied me for three years. Actually this is unfair, I've always been aware of Asian cooking, and I no one forced all those kebabs, chips and curries down my neck. That said, no where since Nam has healthy eating seemed so natural and desirable. I shouldn't use this post as an unfair attack on Northern Cuisine ('Cuisine' used recklessly... stop it), and simply to big up the genius of Vietnamese food. I like to think of sentences to sum up things, so my description of Vietnamese cooking is "the love-child of Thai and Japanese cooking".

Day 154, we only needed to post our post cards but made our way out via breakfast. We had a continental breakfast. I wanted Pho, but this place didn't offer it for breakfast. Vietnam being an ex-colony of France is great with bakeries (therefore counting it as a Vietnamese breakfast). The croissant was crumbly as were the large baguettes. The heavens opened again so we waited it out in the cafe, sipping tea and coffee until the sun returned. We found the post office with ease, then at a loss we walked to the lake in Dalat.

Dalat is a holiday retreat for Vietnamese it seems. It centres around a large lake and a golf course. On that lake we saw some peddle boats shaped like giant swans so with nothing else to do, we rented one for an hour. Sarah was frustrated with my stearing, in the same way she gets frustrated when we are doing something together on the PC and I'm on the keyboard, so she took over. We peddled quite a way, and had to sprint back to get back in time. On the way back I asked if she could park this thing, as her steering was not as reactive as I would have wanted (Sarah thought she was doing doing brilliantly, though considering the thing only steered right and left, with no middle ground, she did do exceptionally well - added by Sarah in the editing process). Her reply "they don't call me Sarah the Swan Parker for nothing". I've never heard a sentence like that in my life. She parked it perfectly. We got out and the heavens opened again. The sky grey, the dotting on the lake of the rain coming down we caught a taxi back. On the way I immediately thought of this quote by Bill Bryson at the heading of this post.

Tomorrow, we have a full day of touring. Starting at 8:30am and finishing in time for tea we will be doing the following (according to pamphlet to my left):

• Visit Flower and Vegetable Farms
• Walk along a mountain view
• Coffee Plantations (yes again, can never get enough)
• Visit the Elephant Waterfall
• A pagoda with (another fucking) Big Buddha
• Crickets farm
• Minority village
• Crazy House

I will of course let you know how it goes with usual cynicism and sarcasm, leaving you wondering why I bothered leaving home in the first place (you're jealous). 

Days 148 to 151. The Mekong Delta

Another early start and a two day outing south towards the Mekong Delta was our plan on Wednesday 29th August. Two days exploring the river system down in the south of the country, was something I approached with a very open mind as I didn't know what to expect.

We got on the bus at about 8:15am, and a crowded bus it was too. I first noticed an Aussie called Paul, whom I spoke to briefly the day prior at the Cu Chi Tunnels. He broke the ice at the tunnels by pointing at my tattoo and said "is that Korean?". I said yes and he confirmed it said 'oh noo' which is Korean for 'Today'. This was good as I received confirmation that what I placed on my forearm for the rest of my life said what I intended it to, and not 'foreign devil' or 'dirty paedo'. So I greeted him on the bus with "hello again". He said Hi and then followed up instantly with "show them your tattoo". I was showing it to the Koreans and I was instantly dismayed when they burst out laughing. I asked them what it said and they confirmed 'today' and apparently their laughing was just surprise or nervousness or being silly college kids. I am convinced it says 'Today' but if it doesn't I need a lawyer to help me take arms against Google Translate. Anyone?

The journey was a cramped few hours until we reached the first stop of Unicorn Island, and our first Mekong Boat trip. Once there we were offered some honey tea, some banana wine and lastly some dried banana and ginger chips. In order, I would rate all three as mediocre, and not a huge new flavour or cultural experience. The place was also a bee farm. Sarah was swatting them away constantly, and a bit nervous. I just kind of took refuge in numbers and saw no one was getting stung, so why should they single me out, its not as if bees are monkeys.

We were sat at a table with Paul and a new friend for the journey, a Chinese girl who wouldn't stop talking, who was lovely. Faye was her name, and she had this innocence and huge self belief in all she said, which was cute (in a funny way) as hell. Also at our table were a couple from England. All we had in common is they came from Kent I lived in Kent for a year of my life. Apart from that they were as boring as solitary isolation in prison. That horrible Kentish drawl, without the geezer-ness of Essex or the sprightly optimistic tone of London. I was so glad they were on a one day trip.

Next a row boat trip through some mango groves. My first embarrasing part was to admit (as asked to for safety reasons) that I was over 70kg. Oh for goodness sake, the guide was over 154 pounds, so I'm not sure why he was laughing when I told him I was 85kg (that was a write down in  the truth). He asked loudly for two lighter ones to join this fat bastard and his American wife in the canoe. Two of them did come forward, a couple of middle aged Australian ladies. The embarrasment didn't last as the boat was paddled with no small effort by a couple of small elderly Vietnamese ladies. They handed me an oar and asked if I could row as well, although I'm sure they wanted me to feel involved than actually needing me.

We were offloaded at a small jetty with little idea where to go next, but after a local pointing we followed an obvious path which led to a bunch of tables, with free fruit to try. I instantly fell in love with dragon fruit, especially the red type. This is readily available in Asda, so I should be more adventurous at home. Another fruit which looked like a small pear was instantly spat out. It tasted like a cross between a rotten apple and a raw potato. Lychees were there also, but I have no time for these fiddly things which look like a shiny testicle encased in jelly. Some girls came round to sing some songs. Some were Vietnamese songs and 'If you're happy and you know it'. They felt as awkward as we did, but left a basket to leave a tip. Sarah left a battered dollar, she's learning about this tipping business.

While I'm here, you may have noticed I'm ambiguous about tipping. Let me spell it out where I stand; my tip is my gift. If asked to, or peer pressured into, I will do it grudgingly and as small as I can get away with. This applies to American waiting staff, who expect my gift to compensate for the American taxation and minimum wage system pushing them over a work top and shagging them dry. When service is great and I feel I have not been leaned on,  I will tip generously. I will also tip generously if I'm on a date with an American in New York and I'm not ready for her to know this side of me until she is trapped in marriage.

After that, and another chance to part us from the Dong which grows on tourist trees, we were boated off to the mekong to try some coconut candy, and watch it being made. This was no more interesting than the school trip to Looe, to see Looe Rock being made. There was obviously some invitation to buy, but to be fair it wasn't at all intense. Sarah sampled some coconut wine and some snake wine. I tried only the coconut wine, Sarah tried both and liked it. When I use the word wine in the Vietnamese sense, it is in no way similar to crisp chardonay. Indeed it is more similar in taste to the fluids your mum kept beneath the sink with a child proof top.

Next lunch, and we could go anywhere we wanted as this guide had no interest in commission. Just kidding! We were taken to a very interesting island as it happened. Lunch was free as long as we chose Rice, greens and pork. The menu offered more interesting items. Snake, Turtle, Crocodile and Ostrich. The good thing about this island is there were some activities. Cycliing or a hammock, we chose the hammock. This was after a chance to look at the crocodiles, and big buggers they were too. A member of staff dangled a piece of meat no bigger than a very small steak on a fishing rod while the crocs just left their gobs open. Obviously the aim was for the the crocs to snap in a violent way at this morsil of meat, and leave the crowds gasping at the power of these beasts, and wonder the outcome had this been a human limb. The problem is the crocs are the product of millions of years evolution, culminating into an advanced predator and killing machine. They were not about to be patrionised with a meat cube on a piece of string. For the most part they just lied there and wouldn't give the baying crowd the time of day. There obvious mantra for us would be, "if you want entertainment jump over the fence and have a little dance with us, lets see how that works out for you".

We said goodbye to the one-dayers and then onto the city of Can Tho in the south, where we would spend the night. It was during this time that my tooth-ache (I'm not sure I've mentioned it) became intense. I managed to source some Ibuprofen and this got me through lunch and asleep that night. The city of Can Tho was interesting for a quick walk that evening as it was not touristy at all, at least that was the initial look. Obviously many stay here as the Mekong Tour is popular. This however didn't translate into rows of cafes selling burgers and tiger beer, and shops with commie t-shirts.

The morning of the 30th August and day 149 we were off to the floating market. Now twice we've meant to taken the Thai one outside Bangkok, but never got round to it. Just as well, as the Vietnamese floating market was much more authentic. This was selling mostly wholesale vegetables and fruit. Vendors would take a boat down from wherever the produce grew, and live on the boat until the stock was gone. Big boats were wholesale, and smaller ones would sell on again. A few boats came up to us to sell fruit or drinks. They would pull up beside and hook their boats to ours and push for a sale. But it wasn't intense at all. The only thing I was tempted by was a boat with a huge three-way pot for Pho soup. A handful of soft noodles, a handful of bean sprouts, a handful of herbs and a ladle of beef soup over it. It smelt and looked amazing. The captain of the boat ate a bowl while steering with his feet. Priceless!

Next a quick stop to show us how rice noodles are made. This was a good stop and there was no pressure to buy at all (by now you are gathering I don't like hard sell). It was interesting as noodles have formed such a large part of my diet for the last 3.5 months, and I thought they all just came from the noodle fairy. They mix rice husk with tapioca to a thick gloop. They spread it on a hot flat disk similar to how crepes are made in Paris (and Camden). They are moved to dry in the sun on bamboo trays. Once dried you then have a large 17" disk of semi-transparent hardened jelly.This is then fed through an industrial contraption, very similar to a pasta maker. A single disk makes possible two or three servings of noodles. How busy those people must be to keep up with the insatiable demand for pho.

More interesting and more smelly and more cute than the rice noodle work-shop were the little piggies kept in a pen behind the factory. These were highland pigs, not the Vietnamese pot bellied pig variety. These type were thinner, and looked more eternally piglet that other breeds. They wagged their tails like dogs and were as inquistive as puppies. I know the next time I would see one of them would be in a stir-fry. I've chosen to eat meat on my Asia trip, so I'm not going to moralise. They were so cute though, and the vegetarianism should really come back once I'm back in the west.

We made our way back to HCMC after a stop at a fruit farm. We wandered the gardens growing everything from papaya to cacao beans. There was a beautiful cat-fish pond made out of a crater left by a US B52 bomber during the conflict. Something so charming formed on the back of such ugly aggression. This almost sums up Indochina for me. Before leaving for the 4 hour journey back, we ate some fruit. We shared some more dragon fruit and mango. Sarah's bias was the mango and me the dragon fruit.

Once back in HCMC I had to take care of my tooth. The ibuprofen was of limited use, and it seemed I was waiting for four hours to pass before popping another 600mg tablet. Sarah went to a dentist on Bui Vien for a cleaning and had a good experience, so I of course headed there also. They agreed to check me out right away, so it started well. Although I must ask why there weren't that busy. He looked at my tooth or what's left of it, but couldn't tell me as his English was limited. The problem with my tooth is this; I had a filling and root canal work done in 1998. The filling came out and I wasn't quick enough to do anything about it and the rest of the tooth broke away. However, with no nerve behind it, there was never any pain. The pain is now coming from the gum. It has obviously become infected. There is a shell of a tooth there, but it is mostly a cavity. Anyway this dentist of 12 years old found where the pain came from and jabbed at it a few hundred times more to be sure. Then I was ushered into a side room for an x-ray. My head wasn't positioned just correctly, so they kindly banged it hard back against the hard concrete wall. I was asked to hold a piece of plastic in my mouth with my finger. They cleared the room, without handing me glasses for protection from the radiation blast coming my way. The result is my finger now glows in the dark and my urine has melted the latrine.

Back in the dentist chair junior took another look, jabbed at my painful gum a few more times. Returning with the x-ray pictures he scratched his head, mumbled to himself, then got up and made a telephone call. Returning it became evident that he had spoken to his boss, and said the remainder of the tooth needs to be pulled. Genius! How much for this? U$D800! Fuck off! I explained I'm a British citizen who has the option of returning to the UK and getting this done for almost free. Please just give me anti-biotics and pain killers to see me over 40 days and thanks for your time. He didn't understand bless him, so the receptionist came in and translated for me. In all that time I was not given a diagnosis of the problem. I would sooner let a chimp on cocaine dig around my teeth than that juvenile. The good part, the cost for the visit was zero, or at least no request for payment was made. A presciption was made out for four types of medication, and as at going to press now, the pain has subsided.

I never liked dentists, but I miss my dentist near Mossley so much at the moment. A friendly muslim girl with an Oldham accent who lets me know in simple detail every step that is the be taken with one of the most sensitve parts of the human body. Ensuring I'm aware of whats happening at any one time, so I know when to flinch and when to relax. I miss the manor house dentist, and cosy waiting room. Then sitting in a comfy chair and looking at your x-rays through a big monitor above your head. And this is on the NHS. I need to really trust a dentist, as they scare the shit out of me. So my friendly muslim girl wearing the hijab, I want to hug you (but your husband may kill us both out of honour) for making me comfy at dentists. The juvenile on Bui Vien can go to hell for almost undoing all my northern dentists good work.

It's easy to sum up days 150 and 151.... naff all! We are sitting out Vietnams Independence Day to travel on Monday 3rd September. Celebrating Vietnams Independence from France in 1945, not Independence from Agent Orange, B52s and Corruption. We are off to Dalat in the Highlands. Our plan is pretty much northwards. From Dalat to Hoi An and Hue in the middle of Nam. Then a train journey to Hanoi. Our deadline is to reach Hanoi by 17th September, and obviously Halong Bay. From then back down to Hue to cross to Laos. From Vientiane in Laos we will head to Chiang Mai no earlier than 1st October. From Chiang Mai, to Bangkok for two days before returning home. The journey's end is in sight.

I'm viewing our Asian stretch from Singapore on the 8th of August to the end as an overland epic, with comparisons to our 5 weeks in Europe. Even though travelling is easy logistically in Asia, I still think this journey will be an achievement, especially in distance. It will certainly be a comparison in emotion when we arrive in Bangkok for the last time, as to when we arrived in Istanbul on the 4th May. It will also be sad as this may be the last time we do anything like this again in our lives. I've decided this blog will finish with our travels, which officially finish when Sarah returns to America on the 17th October. Therefore, a summary post here is premature. I considered a blog detailing the process of American immigration, but I think the publicising of my life, no matter how small the audience, has run it's course. I read this in a magazine once "its not enough to get through life, no matter how hard, nowadays we have to let everyone know we have". However, the emotional last post in over a month away.