So now we move to the less dark side of Cambodia.
The next day the Canadian girls had headed on, so myself and Joonas went to see the palace and silver pagoda. The palace was pretty good, but I'd say the one in Bangkok probably has the edge. The silver pagoda (which just like the temple in the palace at Bangkok contains an emerald Buddha) were used to make up the floor and so only a small area of tiles was visible at the door. I've got to say if I had myself 5000 silver tiles, they'd be hung up on the walls or ceiling. We then ran into problems with the palace guard who wouldn't let us back through to the royal side. We decided to cut our losses here and not follow the example of an English couple who were shouting abuse at this armed man. That night we made it to the lakeside (we had got lost on the first night when we tried to find it.) This place is THE backpacker hangout I've seen so far. Drugs freely available, cheap food, cheaper accommodation and hundreds of stoned white people.
After a $2 all you can eat Indian, we headed home so I could prepare fro my trip down the coast the next day. The bus journey wasn't that eventful (Although I did flash back to the Cu Chi tunnels when trying to make it to the on board toilet). I made it to my Sihanoukville hotel room by 3. In the evening I discovered that this is THE place for BBQ seafood. Next day I decided to rent a bike. The first place I went had none left, but the guy charitably offered to give me a lift to his friends place where I could rent one. $2 later i was off exploring. I've never hurt so much riding a bike. Cambodian highways are fine, but small roads are either dirt, or more pothole than road. After about 20km my thighs, arse and knee were killing me. When, passing over one big pothole, my water bottle decided to leap from the basket and hit me in the face, I knew it was time to go home. On the way I did encounter the truly unique experience of a Cambodian roundabout - strategically placed at the bottom of 3 hills. Nonetheless, I survived.
Next couple of days were quite quiet (played in a pool competition and TWICE came runner up in a 10 person winner take all game - did get free beer though so at least there was a silver lining) and I'm now back in Phnom Pehn (finally the blog is up to date again!) waiting to head on to Siem Reap (And the temples of Angkor) tomorrow morning.
Sunday 6 December 2009
Friday 4 December 2009
So you've been to school for a year or two, and you know you've seen it all...
For those who don't know their Cambodian history, this is a good place for you to start, otherwise my rants and opinions may seem slightly out there...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khmer_Rouge
In two and a half months in South East Asia (70 days by the time I left Phnom Pehn) I thought that I'd seen some hardship. But nothing quite prepared me for the contrasts I saw in my first few days in Cambodia.
The people here are warm and friendly, but there seems to be a lot more need in any sales situation. They have to have you buy this t-shirt/book/weed/opium/cocaine or get in his tuk-tuk/motorbike or visit the brothel he's paid commission by. Its the first place I've encountered children begging for money (rather than trying to sell you stuff). When we (me, the Canadian girls from Saigon and Joonas, a Finnish guy from my dorm) visited the Killing Fields, there were children literally begging for water, and although I like to believe that bullets bounce off me, I found that a little much to take. Especially after what we had just seen inside.
The first thing which you see is a giant stuppa - the monument that Buddhists put up to the dead. This stuppa however is not like any other that you are likely to encounter as it contains the skulls of more than 8000 of the Khmer Rouge's victims. The skulls are sorted by age group, ranging from children to people in their 70s and 80s. Beneath the mound of skulls is a box containing the rags that the victims were clad in - that is those who weren't hurled naked into mass graves. As we moved around the compound we saw other sights that were equally as chilling. The first that we came to was one of the mass graves that had been excavated in the 80s, some of which has contained literally hundreds of bodies. Then we came to the weapons which had been used by the Khmer Rouge soldiers to kill the people. As bullets were considered to precious to waste, farm tools such as hoes, scythes, hammers and machetes were used. Then we came to the baby killing tree - which is unfortunately just as horrible as it sounds. Soldiers used to pick up small children and babies by their ankles and beat their heads against the tree until they died. It was roughly at this point that we were surrounded by the children asking for water, and it would take a harder heart than mine not to be upset by it all.
In an effort to lighten the mood we went to "Happy's pizza" for dinner, but the sign wrote a cheque which the chef failed to deliver. Although a perfectly passable pepperoni the pizza didn't leave me any happier for eating it. So after a few beers and a two hour conversation on what it takes before a character to be truly classed as a Muppet, we headed home (as Joonas had the key, and the door was long locked, I felt it was a good idea to go with him, as the streets of Phnom Pehn didn't look the comfiest to sleep on)
Now before my next depressive installment on the s-21 genocide museum, I feel I should try and lighten the mood by describing my accommodation to you. Firstly, the shower. Cold water only, and it sprayed at all angles. The dorm room had no door, and the window was a mosquito net. the beds were THIN foam mattresses on wooden benches. With all this, I think it can only be a testament to the staff and the people that I met there that I stayed for four nights (and am planning on going back for two more) (OK it was also $4 a night). In addition I want to get a tarantula from the woman who sells them door to door (I only got a snake on a stick last time). Next door to our place was a dog that howled like a wolf every time I walked past - they do say if you've eaten dog other dogs can tell....
Anyway the next day I went to s-21. Now before the Khmer Rouge took power this place was a school. When they took over it became a prison and interrogation camp. Now I've heard the idea (and to be fair probably voiced it myself a few times) that a school is like a prison, but to see one so transformed was horrific. Not believing in ghosts, its hard to say what I felt, but you could almost see the kids running around the corridors. The ground floor was made up of photos of some of the 18 000 prisoners who were brought through the gates. When the Vietnamese liberated the prison there were SEVEN people left alive inside. SEVEN! The next floor contained the cells that they were locked in. I decided to shut myself in one of the, just to get the beginnings of an inkling of the conditions. The wooden box brought to mind a coffin, as if I'd lain down that would have been roughly how roomy it would have been. It must have been 7'6"by 2'6"" maximum. The second to last room set (the last were photos taken of the Khmer Rouge regieme by a Swedish visitor who was there at the time on their request) were the most upsetting. As Stalin - or was it Marilyn Manson - said "The death of one is a tragedy, the death of a million is just a statistic" - well this room contained the tragedies. There were reams of stories of individuals who had been taken away, reassigned work or just simply vanished. It was rare that people were admitted to have been executed. The one which jarred with me the most was a man taken away just two weeks before the Vietnamese liberated Phnom Pehn. They must have known they were beaten by then - it just seems so futile. The Cambodian government have preserved the prison as it was, including barbed wire at the balcony of some floors which was placed there to stop prisoners throwing themselves off. Part of me wonders if it was kept there to prevent utterly depressed tourists doing the same thing....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khmer_Rouge
In two and a half months in South East Asia (70 days by the time I left Phnom Pehn) I thought that I'd seen some hardship. But nothing quite prepared me for the contrasts I saw in my first few days in Cambodia.
The people here are warm and friendly, but there seems to be a lot more need in any sales situation. They have to have you buy this t-shirt/book/weed/opium/cocaine or get in his tuk-tuk/motorbike or visit the brothel he's paid commission by. Its the first place I've encountered children begging for money (rather than trying to sell you stuff). When we (me, the Canadian girls from Saigon and Joonas, a Finnish guy from my dorm) visited the Killing Fields, there were children literally begging for water, and although I like to believe that bullets bounce off me, I found that a little much to take. Especially after what we had just seen inside.
The first thing which you see is a giant stuppa - the monument that Buddhists put up to the dead. This stuppa however is not like any other that you are likely to encounter as it contains the skulls of more than 8000 of the Khmer Rouge's victims. The skulls are sorted by age group, ranging from children to people in their 70s and 80s. Beneath the mound of skulls is a box containing the rags that the victims were clad in - that is those who weren't hurled naked into mass graves. As we moved around the compound we saw other sights that were equally as chilling. The first that we came to was one of the mass graves that had been excavated in the 80s, some of which has contained literally hundreds of bodies. Then we came to the weapons which had been used by the Khmer Rouge soldiers to kill the people. As bullets were considered to precious to waste, farm tools such as hoes, scythes, hammers and machetes were used. Then we came to the baby killing tree - which is unfortunately just as horrible as it sounds. Soldiers used to pick up small children and babies by their ankles and beat their heads against the tree until they died. It was roughly at this point that we were surrounded by the children asking for water, and it would take a harder heart than mine not to be upset by it all.
In an effort to lighten the mood we went to "Happy's pizza" for dinner, but the sign wrote a cheque which the chef failed to deliver. Although a perfectly passable pepperoni the pizza didn't leave me any happier for eating it. So after a few beers and a two hour conversation on what it takes before a character to be truly classed as a Muppet, we headed home (as Joonas had the key, and the door was long locked, I felt it was a good idea to go with him, as the streets of Phnom Pehn didn't look the comfiest to sleep on)
Now before my next depressive installment on the s-21 genocide museum, I feel I should try and lighten the mood by describing my accommodation to you. Firstly, the shower. Cold water only, and it sprayed at all angles. The dorm room had no door, and the window was a mosquito net. the beds were THIN foam mattresses on wooden benches. With all this, I think it can only be a testament to the staff and the people that I met there that I stayed for four nights (and am planning on going back for two more) (OK it was also $4 a night). In addition I want to get a tarantula from the woman who sells them door to door (I only got a snake on a stick last time). Next door to our place was a dog that howled like a wolf every time I walked past - they do say if you've eaten dog other dogs can tell....
Anyway the next day I went to s-21. Now before the Khmer Rouge took power this place was a school. When they took over it became a prison and interrogation camp. Now I've heard the idea (and to be fair probably voiced it myself a few times) that a school is like a prison, but to see one so transformed was horrific. Not believing in ghosts, its hard to say what I felt, but you could almost see the kids running around the corridors. The ground floor was made up of photos of some of the 18 000 prisoners who were brought through the gates. When the Vietnamese liberated the prison there were SEVEN people left alive inside. SEVEN! The next floor contained the cells that they were locked in. I decided to shut myself in one of the, just to get the beginnings of an inkling of the conditions. The wooden box brought to mind a coffin, as if I'd lain down that would have been roughly how roomy it would have been. It must have been 7'6"by 2'6"" maximum. The second to last room set (the last were photos taken of the Khmer Rouge regieme by a Swedish visitor who was there at the time on their request) were the most upsetting. As Stalin - or was it Marilyn Manson - said "The death of one is a tragedy, the death of a million is just a statistic" - well this room contained the tragedies. There were reams of stories of individuals who had been taken away, reassigned work or just simply vanished. It was rare that people were admitted to have been executed. The one which jarred with me the most was a man taken away just two weeks before the Vietnamese liberated Phnom Pehn. They must have known they were beaten by then - it just seems so futile. The Cambodian government have preserved the prison as it was, including barbed wire at the balcony of some floors which was placed there to stop prisoners throwing themselves off. Part of me wonders if it was kept there to prevent utterly depressed tourists doing the same thing....
Tuesday 1 December 2009
The last bus leaving Saigon....
Well now I'm in Cambodia my Vietnam adventure is over. I'll relay the events of my last few days...
The advance party (saul and then lisa) did pretty well finding us a nice wee triple room with en suite for $21. Didn't stop us hunting down somewhere cheaper the next night though.
On the first full day we hit all the touristy sights heading for the reunification palace and the war remnants museum. While we were at the palace we ran into a group of monks that were on holiday from Laos. Now I know its against their religion, but I'm sure that one of them was VERY hungover...
The palace was alright - and like all true palaces should, it came with its own "gambling room" and cinema - but the most interesting part was the underground command station from where the south ran the war. As it has been preserved in the state it was on reunification in 1975, you can really get a feel for the place. And as I sat behind the "forbidden" desk, I could really feel my megalomania grow.
Before I reached Cambodia, I can say without a doubt that the war remnants museum was the most harrowing place I've ever been. I'd been warned in advance, but still I wasn't prepared for what hit me when I walked in. The images of the brutality of war didn't pull any punches... I had been planning to take some pictures of the museum, but after I'd seen the first few, the camera hung loose around my neck. The pictures of Agent Orange victims, as well as those of the landmine and bombing campaigns will be with me for a long time - photos or no.
In order to forget the traumatic images of the day, we headed out en masse that evening. Between the three of us, Bronwyn, Vera and Hayley, a group of four Canadian girls that Saul knew and some of their friends, we had the biggest drinking group since the Chicken Game in Luang Prabang.
After a few, we retired so that we would be up in time for our Mekong Delta tour the next day. The tour was pretty good, although the cycle part turned into a bit of a farce, as three bikes fell apart and the guide set off at a pace that would have made Lance Armstrong jealous. The Lance Armstrong to whom I refer is of course not the world famous cyclist, but rather the one legged butcher from Helensburgh. The villages and manufacturing places were cool to see, but once again I got the impression that they were very much laid on for us to see. I did enjoy posing for a pic with the python though.
At this point I have to introduce a new character to our story. Ek-Rat or as he affectionately became known, Ecky was a Thai man in his 60s travelling through Vietnam and then into China, having left behind his wife - who in fairness didn't like long distance travel - to look after his ten cats. Ecky joined us for dinner and drinks that evening as well as booking on to the Cu Chi tunnels tour with us the following day. He did seem to be surprised when he discovered that we didn't share his love of the Beatles, Cliff Richard and Celine Dion.
On the way to the Mekong I bought a ham and pate sandwich. On the way to Cu Chi I bought a meat and pate one that was not. I genuinely think it was dog... After that disappointment we arrived at the tunnels. Although the tone here was more partisan than anything else I have experienced in Vietnam, I really enjoyed it. I think I may have survived life as a tunnel rat, although trying to perch and fire a gun would have been a challenge. Poor Ecky may not have done as well as me, as he lost his glasses in the crawl. That night we had drinks with him and the hotel staff - whose I kind offer of duck embryo, I politely declined.
The next day was pretty quiet, I updated the diary, wrote some postcards (although they weren't sent til I reached Cambodia) and I sorted out onward transport. The six hour bus ride to Phnom Pehn went remarkably quickly, and as I chucked the drivers mate $5, I didn't even have to do much at border control. We were almost on time (for once).
The advance party (saul and then lisa) did pretty well finding us a nice wee triple room with en suite for $21. Didn't stop us hunting down somewhere cheaper the next night though.
On the first full day we hit all the touristy sights heading for the reunification palace and the war remnants museum. While we were at the palace we ran into a group of monks that were on holiday from Laos. Now I know its against their religion, but I'm sure that one of them was VERY hungover...
The palace was alright - and like all true palaces should, it came with its own "gambling room" and cinema - but the most interesting part was the underground command station from where the south ran the war. As it has been preserved in the state it was on reunification in 1975, you can really get a feel for the place. And as I sat behind the "forbidden" desk, I could really feel my megalomania grow.
Before I reached Cambodia, I can say without a doubt that the war remnants museum was the most harrowing place I've ever been. I'd been warned in advance, but still I wasn't prepared for what hit me when I walked in. The images of the brutality of war didn't pull any punches... I had been planning to take some pictures of the museum, but after I'd seen the first few, the camera hung loose around my neck. The pictures of Agent Orange victims, as well as those of the landmine and bombing campaigns will be with me for a long time - photos or no.
In order to forget the traumatic images of the day, we headed out en masse that evening. Between the three of us, Bronwyn, Vera and Hayley, a group of four Canadian girls that Saul knew and some of their friends, we had the biggest drinking group since the Chicken Game in Luang Prabang.
After a few, we retired so that we would be up in time for our Mekong Delta tour the next day. The tour was pretty good, although the cycle part turned into a bit of a farce, as three bikes fell apart and the guide set off at a pace that would have made Lance Armstrong jealous. The Lance Armstrong to whom I refer is of course not the world famous cyclist, but rather the one legged butcher from Helensburgh. The villages and manufacturing places were cool to see, but once again I got the impression that they were very much laid on for us to see. I did enjoy posing for a pic with the python though.
At this point I have to introduce a new character to our story. Ek-Rat or as he affectionately became known, Ecky was a Thai man in his 60s travelling through Vietnam and then into China, having left behind his wife - who in fairness didn't like long distance travel - to look after his ten cats. Ecky joined us for dinner and drinks that evening as well as booking on to the Cu Chi tunnels tour with us the following day. He did seem to be surprised when he discovered that we didn't share his love of the Beatles, Cliff Richard and Celine Dion.
On the way to the Mekong I bought a ham and pate sandwich. On the way to Cu Chi I bought a meat and pate one that was not. I genuinely think it was dog... After that disappointment we arrived at the tunnels. Although the tone here was more partisan than anything else I have experienced in Vietnam, I really enjoyed it. I think I may have survived life as a tunnel rat, although trying to perch and fire a gun would have been a challenge. Poor Ecky may not have done as well as me, as he lost his glasses in the crawl. That night we had drinks with him and the hotel staff - whose I kind offer of duck embryo, I politely declined.
The next day was pretty quiet, I updated the diary, wrote some postcards (although they weren't sent til I reached Cambodia) and I sorted out onward transport. The six hour bus ride to Phnom Pehn went remarkably quickly, and as I chucked the drivers mate $5, I didn't even have to do much at border control. We were almost on time (for once).
Monday 30 November 2009
If its NhaTrang, then it must be right.
So in Nha Trang, a medium sized Vietnamese town/city more than 10 000 km from Glasgow, you wouldn't expect to run into many weegie, would you? But when I got up in the morning, in the bunk above me was Lisa, a girl from Clydebank I'd met in Hanoi (OK, technically dubious whether this is Glasgow, but bear with me). The two of us went a wander to see what there was to see in the town. If I'm honest, the answer is very little.
Nha Trang looks to be a town where the tourists live on the beach (or under the sea as its 'nam's diving capital) Neither of these have much appeal when there are warning signs all along the front telling us to stay out of the water. So somewhat deflated we returned to our hotel to claim the free drinks we were promised.( As an aside I don't deliberately stay places where they offer free booze, it just happens)
Now I'm not sure if the choice of "Ghost Town" by The Specials was deliberate as we played pool in the empty bar (which has 8 staff and a sign asking for more) but it felt very apt. After the freebie and one of THE most manly cocktails I've ever had, we moved on to another bar, which promised free cocktails on entry and two for one spirits. Now we had a few hours here, during which I made spirited attempt to get the American - who has hijacked the music with his own Ipod - lynched by turning the Ipod to Born in The USA. He did his best to help my quest by whooping and air punching along, but sadly the Vietnamese were too laid back to care. At this point me, Lisa and a couple of Dutch guys we met moved on to the Sailing Club, where we met Carrie, another Glasgow girl (see told you I was going somewhere) that I had first met in Hue. The night flew in, and before long it was 2am and I was banging on the hostel door to be let in.
The next day went by with very little incident, except for two noteworthy events. The first of these was that I ate 3 full dinners. The offer to pay for a fourth was quickly withdrawn as I called for a menu. The second event was a story I was told by a guy called Ben, and of all the potential scams I've heard in South East Asia this ranks at number one. He was sitting in a bar, and got chatting to a girl who said she was half-Malaysian, Half-Philippine. She was living in Nha Trang with her uncle because her family had moved to America, but as she was over 21 she could not be on the same visa form. Her and Ben played a lot of pool, had a laugh and he asked her to go for a drink that evening. She declined but offered him lunch the next day. It turns out she wanted to cook for him so they went to her uncles place. The girl ate her meal quite quickly and excused herself, saying she needed to call her mum. This left Ben and her uncle alone together. Now, gamblers, you'll understand why I've tagged you in this note. I want views and opinions, both on what you would do, and where you think the catch is. Her uncle told Ben that he was the pit boss on a new floating casino opening later in the week. He then explained that all casinos in Vietnam are rigged as the house will choose people they believe to be compulsive gamblers to win, so that they will return and lose more than they were paid out. He went on to say that the casino was planning on dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars on opening night so that it would appear to be a "lucky"casino. Then came the ruse. He suggested that Ben should take some of the uncles money, play tables and be one of the "lucky"winners. The uncle would OK this in his role as pit boss and Ben could leave. The money that they won ( the target was $40 000 - big enough, but not enough to be suspicious) would be split 75/25 in favour of the uncle. By the time I saw him, Ben had been thinking this over for 24 hours, and was saying he thought it was too risky, but was still off to meet the niece again. Unfortunately I didn't see him again so didn't get closure on how the story ended.
Having given it my own thought, I would have walked away from this. BUT there was a tiny part of me that would have liked to have gone for the big score. Booked the 8 am bus to Saigon, and an evening flight from Saigon to Kuala Lumpar, taken the whole $40 000 and run. I realise this means that I would probably not be able to go back to Vietnam, but if I was ripping off a casino - probably at least in part mafia run - then I'd be worried to go back anyway.
The next day I headed for Saigon, to meet Lisa and Saul - another guy from our dorm. There was glorious sun - after a week of clouds while I'd been at the beach. I think travel agents, by virtue of their bulk buy policy, book out entire cabins on these trains thus explaining why for the third journey in a row I''m the white guy wit huge bags in a carriage full of Vietnamese families, while the next carriage is full of white Westerners. Not that I mind - its an insight to Vietnamese life and the family I'm with are lovely. They don't speak any English, but this hasn't stopped the grandmother from talking to me for about ten minutes - in response to which I pull the black father Dougal face and look confused. The kid is pretty cute though - when he stops crying that is....
Nha Trang looks to be a town where the tourists live on the beach (or under the sea as its 'nam's diving capital) Neither of these have much appeal when there are warning signs all along the front telling us to stay out of the water. So somewhat deflated we returned to our hotel to claim the free drinks we were promised.( As an aside I don't deliberately stay places where they offer free booze, it just happens)
Now I'm not sure if the choice of "Ghost Town" by The Specials was deliberate as we played pool in the empty bar (which has 8 staff and a sign asking for more) but it felt very apt. After the freebie and one of THE most manly cocktails I've ever had, we moved on to another bar, which promised free cocktails on entry and two for one spirits. Now we had a few hours here, during which I made spirited attempt to get the American - who has hijacked the music with his own Ipod - lynched by turning the Ipod to Born in The USA. He did his best to help my quest by whooping and air punching along, but sadly the Vietnamese were too laid back to care. At this point me, Lisa and a couple of Dutch guys we met moved on to the Sailing Club, where we met Carrie, another Glasgow girl (see told you I was going somewhere) that I had first met in Hue. The night flew in, and before long it was 2am and I was banging on the hostel door to be let in.
The next day went by with very little incident, except for two noteworthy events. The first of these was that I ate 3 full dinners. The offer to pay for a fourth was quickly withdrawn as I called for a menu. The second event was a story I was told by a guy called Ben, and of all the potential scams I've heard in South East Asia this ranks at number one. He was sitting in a bar, and got chatting to a girl who said she was half-Malaysian, Half-Philippine. She was living in Nha Trang with her uncle because her family had moved to America, but as she was over 21 she could not be on the same visa form. Her and Ben played a lot of pool, had a laugh and he asked her to go for a drink that evening. She declined but offered him lunch the next day. It turns out she wanted to cook for him so they went to her uncles place. The girl ate her meal quite quickly and excused herself, saying she needed to call her mum. This left Ben and her uncle alone together. Now, gamblers, you'll understand why I've tagged you in this note. I want views and opinions, both on what you would do, and where you think the catch is. Her uncle told Ben that he was the pit boss on a new floating casino opening later in the week. He then explained that all casinos in Vietnam are rigged as the house will choose people they believe to be compulsive gamblers to win, so that they will return and lose more than they were paid out. He went on to say that the casino was planning on dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars on opening night so that it would appear to be a "lucky"casino. Then came the ruse. He suggested that Ben should take some of the uncles money, play tables and be one of the "lucky"winners. The uncle would OK this in his role as pit boss and Ben could leave. The money that they won ( the target was $40 000 - big enough, but not enough to be suspicious) would be split 75/25 in favour of the uncle. By the time I saw him, Ben had been thinking this over for 24 hours, and was saying he thought it was too risky, but was still off to meet the niece again. Unfortunately I didn't see him again so didn't get closure on how the story ended.
Having given it my own thought, I would have walked away from this. BUT there was a tiny part of me that would have liked to have gone for the big score. Booked the 8 am bus to Saigon, and an evening flight from Saigon to Kuala Lumpar, taken the whole $40 000 and run. I realise this means that I would probably not be able to go back to Vietnam, but if I was ripping off a casino - probably at least in part mafia run - then I'd be worried to go back anyway.
The next day I headed for Saigon, to meet Lisa and Saul - another guy from our dorm. There was glorious sun - after a week of clouds while I'd been at the beach. I think travel agents, by virtue of their bulk buy policy, book out entire cabins on these trains thus explaining why for the third journey in a row I''m the white guy wit huge bags in a carriage full of Vietnamese families, while the next carriage is full of white Westerners. Not that I mind - its an insight to Vietnamese life and the family I'm with are lovely. They don't speak any English, but this hasn't stopped the grandmother from talking to me for about ten minutes - in response to which I pull the black father Dougal face and look confused. The kid is pretty cute though - when he stops crying that is....
Sunday 29 November 2009
Hoi An
As Forrest Gump once said "One day it started raining, and it didn't quit for four months. We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin' rain... and big ol' fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath.''
With weather like this we headed south in hope of some sun. After almost five hours we reached Hoi An - the city of 1000 tailors. After an impressively quick bag drop we set out to find food and explore the town. After walking round for a bit, and spotting a fair amount of flood damage we found an interesting little area where they basically had a group of food stalls together in a cafeteria-esque set up. We had dinner and some 4000 dong beer (13p - I know! 3p more than Hanoi! Terrible isn't it?) before we were solicited for a bar with the promise of a free motorbike trip there and a "F CK strong Bucket" when you bought a drink. So I shared a ride with Vera - a German lawyer we met in Hue, who had a fear of motorbikes, as we whizzed through the town to a bar with a picture of Super-Bono and a shed load of graffiti (to which I added my own Billy Connolly nabbed line)
After we woke the night porter to let us into bed, the next day we went to find a tailor. After trying a couple of places, we stumbled across this little shop with hundreds of rolls of suit material. Now the first thing I had to do was chose a colour. And as much as I think that I would look sharp in an orange suit, and that it would also play well on any subsequent visits to Amsterdam, I decided to go for a black on black suit. Although I did preserve my spirit of rebellion with a purple satin lining. Now I was lucky enough to have two friends with me who knew what they were doing when it came to material and cut of clothes - which made buying and alterations much easier. After a measurement that took in areas I didn't Even know I had, it took only one more fitting to come out with an excellently tailored suit.
Now if you have a shopping addiction and a fixed budget, you shouldn't go to Hoi An. I came away with 5 tailored shirts, 4 work ties, a hammer and sickle tie, a charcoal drawing of an elderly Vietnamese woman and several other things I never knew I needed. And I don't like shopping.
The grim weather may have played a part as with clouds, rain and six feet high waves we decided not to visit China Beach - we thought it would be sunny in Nha Trang....
We did go and visit the ruins at My Son, which were at times brilliant and other worldly and at other slightly tacky and disappointing. One thing that isn't appreciated in Vietnam is that it would be better to see the ruins in their original state, than something which has been rather gaudily restored and repainted. But this is just a slight grump at some wonderful places I've seen.
Hoi An was a wonderful way to spend a few nights, and if we had had the weather, I could have stayed longer, but as it was on day five i hopped in a taxi to Da Nang train station. Once again my train cabin had a language barrier, but this time it was with an elderly German couple, the male half of which had THE most malodorous feet I've encountered so far on my trip. TO be fair to them, they were very generous with their bananas and wet wipes (dinner was greasy). All in all it was a pretty quiet journey, we arrived at Nha Trang about 11pm and i got to the hostel half an hour later
With weather like this we headed south in hope of some sun. After almost five hours we reached Hoi An - the city of 1000 tailors. After an impressively quick bag drop we set out to find food and explore the town. After walking round for a bit, and spotting a fair amount of flood damage we found an interesting little area where they basically had a group of food stalls together in a cafeteria-esque set up. We had dinner and some 4000 dong beer (13p - I know! 3p more than Hanoi! Terrible isn't it?) before we were solicited for a bar with the promise of a free motorbike trip there and a "F CK strong Bucket" when you bought a drink. So I shared a ride with Vera - a German lawyer we met in Hue, who had a fear of motorbikes, as we whizzed through the town to a bar with a picture of Super-Bono and a shed load of graffiti (to which I added my own Billy Connolly nabbed line)
After we woke the night porter to let us into bed, the next day we went to find a tailor. After trying a couple of places, we stumbled across this little shop with hundreds of rolls of suit material. Now the first thing I had to do was chose a colour. And as much as I think that I would look sharp in an orange suit, and that it would also play well on any subsequent visits to Amsterdam, I decided to go for a black on black suit. Although I did preserve my spirit of rebellion with a purple satin lining. Now I was lucky enough to have two friends with me who knew what they were doing when it came to material and cut of clothes - which made buying and alterations much easier. After a measurement that took in areas I didn't Even know I had, it took only one more fitting to come out with an excellently tailored suit.
Now if you have a shopping addiction and a fixed budget, you shouldn't go to Hoi An. I came away with 5 tailored shirts, 4 work ties, a hammer and sickle tie, a charcoal drawing of an elderly Vietnamese woman and several other things I never knew I needed. And I don't like shopping.
The grim weather may have played a part as with clouds, rain and six feet high waves we decided not to visit China Beach - we thought it would be sunny in Nha Trang....
We did go and visit the ruins at My Son, which were at times brilliant and other worldly and at other slightly tacky and disappointing. One thing that isn't appreciated in Vietnam is that it would be better to see the ruins in their original state, than something which has been rather gaudily restored and repainted. But this is just a slight grump at some wonderful places I've seen.
Hoi An was a wonderful way to spend a few nights, and if we had had the weather, I could have stayed longer, but as it was on day five i hopped in a taxi to Da Nang train station. Once again my train cabin had a language barrier, but this time it was with an elderly German couple, the male half of which had THE most malodorous feet I've encountered so far on my trip. TO be fair to them, they were very generous with their bananas and wet wipes (dinner was greasy). All in all it was a pretty quiet journey, we arrived at Nha Trang about 11pm and i got to the hostel half an hour later
Saturday 28 November 2009
Half the world of Hue
Hue is a very pretty city and a good laugh.
I arrived at the hostel on my first night about two hours too late for something that would bankrupt a lesser establishment, namely FREE BEER HOUR. In this time you can drink as many beers as you like without paying. And with beer at 20 000 a bottle, and rooms at 110 000 a night, the maths is there for all to see.
The next day I went on the city tour, which took us to some cool sites, but I reckon its been turned into a bit of a tourist trap as the $11 price tag - good value against a car - included only the bus, a pretty good guide to give him his due, and what appeared to be a rather nice buffet lunch. On reflection however the lunch may not have been so harmless.
Later that night I met up with Harry again which was cool. Had a few beers with him and some others, then played some pool. This was cool for about two hours, until my body - 52 days into the trip - decided that it had had enough of me and wanted to explode. I left many a puzzled Vietnamese street seller in my wake as I sprinted back to the safety of my hostel and my bathroom.
12 hours later and 4 stone lighter, I emerged from my room to find Hayley (from Hanoi) and Karl (one of the guys from the previous night) sitting with two new faces., Honza from Holland and Bronwyn from South Africa. After a discussion process which I in my weakened state missed out on it was decided to hire bikes for the day and go cycling. After much persuasion (Karl: You coming? Me: Erm... Bronwyn: Go on. Me : O.K.) and seventeen costume changes (none of which were mine) we set out to explore Hue. It was weird to be back on a bike for the first time in six and a half years.....
It was a nice way to see the city though. In true Tour De France style we took it in turns to lead the pack and kept the pace up with baffled locals pointing at us as we flew past. Before I was in the mood, someone suggested we turn for home. Luckily Bronwyn felt the same way and after a brief pit stop we headed back out. We ended up at the pagoda, which I had visited the previous day on the city tour but I was much more able to appreciate its beauty (and tranquility!) for the fact that it was one hour later and most of the tourists had gone home.
As time was ticking by, and the sun drops like a stone here, we started the 7km ride home. Coming back over the bridge to town, I was slow getting away at some lights, so Bronwyn was about 5 seconds ahead of me , as we went to turn left across 3 lanes of traffic. With her head start Bronwyn had space to move in front of a coach, while I decided to wait and go behind. When the bus had moved past, I saw lying in the middle of the road a tangle of bodies, bike and motorbike. Now in Vietnam if there is a crash, traffic doesn't stop, it just moves round using any and all available space. This meant I had no chance to get near so I pulled in at the side of the road and waited. Amazingly enough 2 seconds later up she sprung, got back on the bike and pedalled through to the other side of the junction. Turns out the bike had come out of nowhere and hit her from behind. Luckily enough she wasn't really hurt.
Went back to the hostel and has a quiet night. Oh and Davey, Honza told the Auschwitz joke!
I arrived at the hostel on my first night about two hours too late for something that would bankrupt a lesser establishment, namely FREE BEER HOUR. In this time you can drink as many beers as you like without paying. And with beer at 20 000 a bottle, and rooms at 110 000 a night, the maths is there for all to see.
The next day I went on the city tour, which took us to some cool sites, but I reckon its been turned into a bit of a tourist trap as the $11 price tag - good value against a car - included only the bus, a pretty good guide to give him his due, and what appeared to be a rather nice buffet lunch. On reflection however the lunch may not have been so harmless.
Later that night I met up with Harry again which was cool. Had a few beers with him and some others, then played some pool. This was cool for about two hours, until my body - 52 days into the trip - decided that it had had enough of me and wanted to explode. I left many a puzzled Vietnamese street seller in my wake as I sprinted back to the safety of my hostel and my bathroom.
12 hours later and 4 stone lighter, I emerged from my room to find Hayley (from Hanoi) and Karl (one of the guys from the previous night) sitting with two new faces., Honza from Holland and Bronwyn from South Africa. After a discussion process which I in my weakened state missed out on it was decided to hire bikes for the day and go cycling. After much persuasion (Karl: You coming? Me: Erm... Bronwyn: Go on. Me : O.K.) and seventeen costume changes (none of which were mine) we set out to explore Hue. It was weird to be back on a bike for the first time in six and a half years.....
It was a nice way to see the city though. In true Tour De France style we took it in turns to lead the pack and kept the pace up with baffled locals pointing at us as we flew past. Before I was in the mood, someone suggested we turn for home. Luckily Bronwyn felt the same way and after a brief pit stop we headed back out. We ended up at the pagoda, which I had visited the previous day on the city tour but I was much more able to appreciate its beauty (and tranquility!) for the fact that it was one hour later and most of the tourists had gone home.
As time was ticking by, and the sun drops like a stone here, we started the 7km ride home. Coming back over the bridge to town, I was slow getting away at some lights, so Bronwyn was about 5 seconds ahead of me , as we went to turn left across 3 lanes of traffic. With her head start Bronwyn had space to move in front of a coach, while I decided to wait and go behind. When the bus had moved past, I saw lying in the middle of the road a tangle of bodies, bike and motorbike. Now in Vietnam if there is a crash, traffic doesn't stop, it just moves round using any and all available space. This meant I had no chance to get near so I pulled in at the side of the road and waited. Amazingly enough 2 seconds later up she sprung, got back on the bike and pedalled through to the other side of the junction. Turns out the bike had come out of nowhere and hit her from behind. Luckily enough she wasn't really hurt.
Went back to the hostel and has a quiet night. Oh and Davey, Honza told the Auschwitz joke!
Hanoi-ed to leave
-This was written in Hue backpackers hostel-
Well I can honestly say that Hanoi is the first place I've left where my strongest feeling was regret. I've enjoyed almost everywhere I've been, but Hanoi is the only place where - under different circumstances - I could see myself living.
The city has a great vibe, and the locals are so friendly - and not in the rope 'em in and scam 'em way. For example, a couple of times when I was sitting at the old quarter lake, students (in their early 20s) came over and asked me if it was OK for them to sit down and practise English with me. It was really cool to get a chance to chat with locals about everyday things.
My last 24 hours in Hanoi were pretty cool. Went out in a big group for a meal - got myself some watersnake (tastes a bit like a tuna/salmon crossbreed) and then we headed to the "Bia Hoi Junction" and had some 10p beers. Thats right kids, 10p!
After this I realised that my so laid back I'm horizontal approach to wandering around the city ("We'll find the lake if we wander round for a bit") after there was some worry over one of our groups inabillity to find her own hotel. We did eventually find it (by wandering around for a little while ;-).
The next day I said my goodbyes, paid one last visit to the old quarter and got on the night train, where I was once again the only westerner in the cabin. Got chatting to the woman opposite me and explained to her that Scottish men don't in fact wear dresses and dozed off to sleep...
Well I can honestly say that Hanoi is the first place I've left where my strongest feeling was regret. I've enjoyed almost everywhere I've been, but Hanoi is the only place where - under different circumstances - I could see myself living.
The city has a great vibe, and the locals are so friendly - and not in the rope 'em in and scam 'em way. For example, a couple of times when I was sitting at the old quarter lake, students (in their early 20s) came over and asked me if it was OK for them to sit down and practise English with me. It was really cool to get a chance to chat with locals about everyday things.
My last 24 hours in Hanoi were pretty cool. Went out in a big group for a meal - got myself some watersnake (tastes a bit like a tuna/salmon crossbreed) and then we headed to the "Bia Hoi Junction" and had some 10p beers. Thats right kids, 10p!
After this I realised that my so laid back I'm horizontal approach to wandering around the city ("We'll find the lake if we wander round for a bit") after there was some worry over one of our groups inabillity to find her own hotel. We did eventually find it (by wandering around for a little while ;-).
The next day I said my goodbyes, paid one last visit to the old quarter and got on the night train, where I was once again the only westerner in the cabin. Got chatting to the woman opposite me and explained to her that Scottish men don't in fact wear dresses and dozed off to sleep...
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