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...
Friday, 27 November 2009
The Day I caught the train (for the third time)
I'm on the night train, my third in six days. This soft sleeper is like lying on a pile of bricks rapped in some foam, so I'm glad I didn't tough it out and go for a hard sleeper. Once again I'm in with 3 Vietnamese people but this time they are friendly and chatty - and hopefully not prone to playing music on their mobile phones all night.
The last journey (back from Sapa) was not condusive to a god sleep. I think with those pesky kids and their music - and that was with an Ipod in and an eye mask on. I got off at the other end and was collared by a moto driver who eventually agreed to half his original suggested price and take me back for 20 000 dong (65p). I have since worked out that this was more than I needed to pay, but in my sleep deprived state at 4 am I just didnt care. The driver did all this having seen the card for my hostel (still the same one who "lost" my reservsation the first night, but I have to say its the only place so far I would give a 100% recomendation to - Drift Backpackers Hanoi everyone!) but then he proceded to ask directions from his friends at the gate and head off in the wrong direction. This left me hanging off the back of a motorbike trying to mime directions to the non english speaking driver with one hand and holding on with the other.
We eventually made it to the hostel and as I was promised I went to crash in the TV room. However for some reason at 4.55am at a hostel in Vietnam, there was an Aussie girl sitting on the internet. so with the light and noise she created, and the adrenaline still pumping from the bike ride, I didn't really sleep. She left - LEAVING THE LIGHT ON! - at 5.30 and I dropped off about 20 minutes later.
6.55am - " I cant find Inglorious Basterds! Where is it? I wanted to see that! Oh there it is! OH god this is really going to upset that guy isn't it?"
Well at first yes it did at first, but I had kind of expected it and I too quite fancied seeing that film, so I rolled over, pulled myself together and watched some of QT's new work. I also got chatting to the girl who woke me up. Turns out she was really nice - which is lucky as otherwise I may have had to kill her (Those who have seen a truly sleep deprived Eric will know that I'm only half kidding here :-P)We agreed once we checked in and got sorted out to go and do some sightseeing.
Now at this point I was given a key with a green fob. The rooms in the drift are colour coded. I was told I was on floor 4, but the green room is level 5. I walked into the unlocked green room, took the bed that matched my number, had a shower and went back down..... Turns out I was in the aqua room on floor 4. Oh well.
So somewhere in Hanoi there is a b52 in a pond that crashed during the war. It is IMPOSSIBLE to find. Locals don't know, taxis take you to the B52 museum (there's no pond there!) and not one of us (we found two equally baffled people on route) could find it. So after a second (and still baffling) trip to the Ho Chi Mihn Museum and to the army museum (more plane wrecks, but still no lake) I did something a little adventurous. As Hayley was fading fast and I wasn't far behind we agreed to share a moto home. For the most part this was fine.
There were however two moments of complete panic. The first was when another bike made a spirited attempt to ram us and I had to get my right leg out the road sharpish. The second was when our driver (realising he had made a wrong turn) whirled around and plowed the wrong way down the middle lane of a 3 lane road towards an oncoming bus....
(REAL) Taxi for Johnstone.....
The last journey (back from Sapa) was not condusive to a god sleep. I think with those pesky kids and their music - and that was with an Ipod in and an eye mask on. I got off at the other end and was collared by a moto driver who eventually agreed to half his original suggested price and take me back for 20 000 dong (65p). I have since worked out that this was more than I needed to pay, but in my sleep deprived state at 4 am I just didnt care. The driver did all this having seen the card for my hostel (still the same one who "lost" my reservsation the first night, but I have to say its the only place so far I would give a 100% recomendation to - Drift Backpackers Hanoi everyone!) but then he proceded to ask directions from his friends at the gate and head off in the wrong direction. This left me hanging off the back of a motorbike trying to mime directions to the non english speaking driver with one hand and holding on with the other.
We eventually made it to the hostel and as I was promised I went to crash in the TV room. However for some reason at 4.55am at a hostel in Vietnam, there was an Aussie girl sitting on the internet. so with the light and noise she created, and the adrenaline still pumping from the bike ride, I didn't really sleep. She left - LEAVING THE LIGHT ON! - at 5.30 and I dropped off about 20 minutes later.
6.55am - " I cant find Inglorious Basterds! Where is it? I wanted to see that! Oh there it is! OH god this is really going to upset that guy isn't it?"
Well at first yes it did at first, but I had kind of expected it and I too quite fancied seeing that film, so I rolled over, pulled myself together and watched some of QT's new work. I also got chatting to the girl who woke me up. Turns out she was really nice - which is lucky as otherwise I may have had to kill her (Those who have seen a truly sleep deprived Eric will know that I'm only half kidding here :-P)We agreed once we checked in and got sorted out to go and do some sightseeing.
Now at this point I was given a key with a green fob. The rooms in the drift are colour coded. I was told I was on floor 4, but the green room is level 5. I walked into the unlocked green room, took the bed that matched my number, had a shower and went back down..... Turns out I was in the aqua room on floor 4. Oh well.
So somewhere in Hanoi there is a b52 in a pond that crashed during the war. It is IMPOSSIBLE to find. Locals don't know, taxis take you to the B52 museum (there's no pond there!) and not one of us (we found two equally baffled people on route) could find it. So after a second (and still baffling) trip to the Ho Chi Mihn Museum and to the army museum (more plane wrecks, but still no lake) I did something a little adventurous. As Hayley was fading fast and I wasn't far behind we agreed to share a moto home. For the most part this was fine.
There were however two moments of complete panic. The first was when another bike made a spirited attempt to ram us and I had to get my right leg out the road sharpish. The second was when our driver (realising he had made a wrong turn) whirled around and plowed the wrong way down the middle lane of a 3 lane road towards an oncoming bus....
(REAL) Taxi for Johnstone.....
Sapa
Right I've fallen a bit behind in blogging (I'm now two weeks further on than the blog is)
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So the scenery in Sapa is breath-taking. As I wrote this I was perched on a wall up a mountain overlooking a drop of several hundred feet. The impressively taken timed pictue is available on facebook
On the way up I met a rather insane (but still very friendly) Vietnamese girl. Incidentilly she is the seventh person t have asked early in conversation if I'm married. The girl was lovely other than her insistance we stop every two minutes to take photos.
Sapa is as I've said very pretty but there isn't a lot to do here. If you want to go for a trek with the local tribespeople then this is the place to be, but after a couple of days soaking in the scenery and breathing the mountain air there isn't much to tie you to the place.
While I'm on the subject of tribesfolk, I have to admit there are certain aspects of Sapa that left me uneasy. One of the main draws of the town is that all the local people come in tribal dress to sell their wares. My feeling here is that the line between human carnival and human zoo is a thin and blurry one. There's no way if the town wasn't full of westerners that there would be dozens of black h'mong women selling identical blankets I've had the arguement put to me that these people are doing better out of it than we are, but still I can't help but feel that there is something is lost from a people's culture when there are six H'mong girls sitting in a line in an internet cafe all on YouTube and MySpace.
Again the arguement was put to me (I spent some time having philosophical arguements in Sapa) that you cant prevent people from improving their lives with electricity and computers but I do wonder if they'd be happier if we'd never come along.
Incidentilly I spoke to one Vietnamese man (originally from Hanoi but now working in Sapa) who said that he had been in Sapa for 11 years, and when he had come to town there were two, maybe three hotels. There are now several hundred. He didn't seem pleased with developments.
While I was there I did meet one seemingly cute young girl who aged about six tried to sell me the usual bags and bracelets. When I said I didn't want any she said it would be unfair if she then saw me buying from someone else. My lawyers mind then kicked into gear and I promised that I wouldn't buy any of what she had from anyone else. She made me pinkie promise which I was happy to do. When I had done this she said "Good. Now if you do I get your finger." and walked off smiling...
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So the scenery in Sapa is breath-taking. As I wrote this I was perched on a wall up a mountain overlooking a drop of several hundred feet. The impressively taken timed pictue is available on facebook
On the way up I met a rather insane (but still very friendly) Vietnamese girl. Incidentilly she is the seventh person t have asked early in conversation if I'm married. The girl was lovely other than her insistance we stop every two minutes to take photos.
Sapa is as I've said very pretty but there isn't a lot to do here. If you want to go for a trek with the local tribespeople then this is the place to be, but after a couple of days soaking in the scenery and breathing the mountain air there isn't much to tie you to the place.
While I'm on the subject of tribesfolk, I have to admit there are certain aspects of Sapa that left me uneasy. One of the main draws of the town is that all the local people come in tribal dress to sell their wares. My feeling here is that the line between human carnival and human zoo is a thin and blurry one. There's no way if the town wasn't full of westerners that there would be dozens of black h'mong women selling identical blankets I've had the arguement put to me that these people are doing better out of it than we are, but still I can't help but feel that there is something is lost from a people's culture when there are six H'mong girls sitting in a line in an internet cafe all on YouTube and MySpace.
Again the arguement was put to me (I spent some time having philosophical arguements in Sapa) that you cant prevent people from improving their lives with electricity and computers but I do wonder if they'd be happier if we'd never come along.
Incidentilly I spoke to one Vietnamese man (originally from Hanoi but now working in Sapa) who said that he had been in Sapa for 11 years, and when he had come to town there were two, maybe three hotels. There are now several hundred. He didn't seem pleased with developments.
While I was there I did meet one seemingly cute young girl who aged about six tried to sell me the usual bags and bracelets. When I said I didn't want any she said it would be unfair if she then saw me buying from someone else. My lawyers mind then kicked into gear and I promised that I wouldn't buy any of what she had from anyone else. She made me pinkie promise which I was happy to do. When I had done this she said "Good. Now if you do I get your finger." and walked off smiling...
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Hi Ho, Hi Ho.....
NB - http://www.nzherald.co.nz/technology/news/article.cfm?c_id=5&objectid=10610113
I may not be on facebook for a while, but your comments are still appreciated.
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So tired and hungry I arrived back at the hostel to find out that my room had become Finnish party central. They were ending a 3 month study abroad programme and ready to party. As my knowledge of Finnish music extends to HIM, Lordi and The Rasmus very quickly I was lost in the sing-a-long.
Luckily, my other roommate was from Shawlands (note - for my international readers thats in Glasgow) and I escaped for a few drinks with him and his mates. Was woken up at 5 an by a Finn who felt a need to personally say hello to everyone in the dorm. Never has the reply "aye hello" carried so much implied threat.
Next day we took a mass trip to the Hoa Lo Prison (aka the Hanoi Hilton) to see how things were for prisoners during the Vietnamese wars with America and France. Although it was fun to take turns in the "hell of hells" hole the reality for prisoners can't have been very fun. And although the exhibits seemed to show all the happy times I'm sure the US POWs had it a bit rougher than it looks. Although its good to see the flip side of Holywood gloss.
The next day my compatriots headed for Ha Long Bay and after a lie in and lunch I went to the Ho Chi Mihn Maussoleum complex. Now Uncle Ho is currently in Russia having work done to preserve his body, but his house and museum were still there. He's a very interesting man and certainly said some very profound things but the cult of Ho - where he is treated as Jesus meets Princess Di meets Winston Churchill is incredible. In Vietnam, Ho can do no wrong.
My first intro to Vietnamese sleeper trains (with which there are at least two more planned journeys) came that night. They are not quite as comfy as their thai counterparts, but you travel four to a lockable compartment and travel sideways. My three elderly Vietnamese bunkmates weren't that talkative...
ALSO unlike Thai trains, they run early. This means I arrived in Lao Cai ( on the border with China) at 4.45 am. I found myself a minibus tout and slept in his bus for an hour before the tourists train (see me I'm a local) arrived at 6 am. The Minibus was overcrowded but the scenery was great. I was also very amused by the 4 year old Aussie girl screaming " GOOD MORNING VIETNAM" every so often. The sleeping French pensioners were not.
I may not be on facebook for a while, but your comments are still appreciated.
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So tired and hungry I arrived back at the hostel to find out that my room had become Finnish party central. They were ending a 3 month study abroad programme and ready to party. As my knowledge of Finnish music extends to HIM, Lordi and The Rasmus very quickly I was lost in the sing-a-long.
Luckily, my other roommate was from Shawlands (note - for my international readers thats in Glasgow) and I escaped for a few drinks with him and his mates. Was woken up at 5 an by a Finn who felt a need to personally say hello to everyone in the dorm. Never has the reply "aye hello" carried so much implied threat.
Next day we took a mass trip to the Hoa Lo Prison (aka the Hanoi Hilton) to see how things were for prisoners during the Vietnamese wars with America and France. Although it was fun to take turns in the "hell of hells" hole the reality for prisoners can't have been very fun. And although the exhibits seemed to show all the happy times I'm sure the US POWs had it a bit rougher than it looks. Although its good to see the flip side of Holywood gloss.
The next day my compatriots headed for Ha Long Bay and after a lie in and lunch I went to the Ho Chi Mihn Maussoleum complex. Now Uncle Ho is currently in Russia having work done to preserve his body, but his house and museum were still there. He's a very interesting man and certainly said some very profound things but the cult of Ho - where he is treated as Jesus meets Princess Di meets Winston Churchill is incredible. In Vietnam, Ho can do no wrong.
My first intro to Vietnamese sleeper trains (with which there are at least two more planned journeys) came that night. They are not quite as comfy as their thai counterparts, but you travel four to a lockable compartment and travel sideways. My three elderly Vietnamese bunkmates weren't that talkative...
ALSO unlike Thai trains, they run early. This means I arrived in Lao Cai ( on the border with China) at 4.45 am. I found myself a minibus tout and slept in his bus for an hour before the tourists train (see me I'm a local) arrived at 6 am. The Minibus was overcrowded but the scenery was great. I was also very amused by the 4 year old Aussie girl screaming " GOOD MORNING VIETNAM" every so often. The sleeping French pensioners were not.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Ha Long way from Tipperary...
Well I guess I should start this one with my reflections on Ha Long Bay. After a journey that took ages to get started -with our tour guide's compulsory visit to the police station- we arrived in Ha Long City (still on the mainland) where I was separated from the Aussie girl I had got talking to (as far asI could see the only other solo traveller who had come on this leg) and was sent to "boat 3".
Now on an English-speaking tour I expected a motley crew of Brits, Kiwis, Aussies, Americans and Canadians (maybe with the odd Dutch or Scandinavian thrown in) but not a bit of it. My tour group consisted of 5 Chilians, 3 Koreans, 2 Malaysians, 2 French, 2 Japanese and a German. Along with the Vietnamese crew, this made me the only native English speaker on the tour. And so began my two day career as an interpretor between Asian Second Language English and European Second Language English as the differences seemed to be huge. Personally I thought the standards of English were great, but the French couldn't understand the Vietnamese, and the Japanese couldn't understand the Chileans but other than that the conversations were fun if a little stilted. According to my lovely Korean (not very good at English) roommate and his reliable I-Phone translation, I am "bravery" for coming travelling on my own. Which is nice.
Ha Long Bay may well push Victoria Falls and the road between Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng into 2nd and 3rd place into the list of places I've seen. Its hard to do the place justice in words or pictures if I'm honest. The hundreds of tiny islands make "the bay of the descending dragon"so gorgeous that I advise everyone to go. Now. Stop reading this and leave. Book the tickets and get there.
Still here? Fine then I'll keep typing. The next morning we got up and went for a walk on Cat Ba Island. At the top of the large hill there was a viewing gallery made of rust and plywood but as it was labeled "solid as a rock" up I duely went. The view was amazing. The holes in the floor and the Vietnamese Killer Hornets were not, so down I duely came.
We were then transferred to our hotel for the evening and as Youngjay had left I was put into a suite with a charming gay German couple. Now if I'm being totally honest then they probaly weren't a couple but the camp horseplay and comments gave them that air. We met up with the Aussie from the day before and then all went to the beach. Me and the Germans decided to swim out to the island in the bay that looked close. Actually it turned out to pretty far away. I was knackered (and bleeding) by the time I made it back to the shore.
That night we went out for drinks and met up with a group that some of you would have avoided like the plague --> Five French dentists. After this we went and watched some people doing rock climbing which was pretty cool. Until a chunk of the cliffside fell off. That killed the atmos a little...
The next day - after a strange meal which may well have contained dog - we headed back towards Hanoi. We moved well for two and a half hours until we hit tailbacks that went for miles. The driver seemingly used to this sort of thing switched off the engine and got out of the cab. Well when in Vietnam.... So I went for a walk along one of the busiest motorways in Vietnam. It was a strange experience, but it made for a couple of interesting sites - such as a bus full of monks, almost all on their mobile phones - presumably explaining why they were late.
We eventually got going again and passed the site of the two accidents which had delayed us - one of which looked like a pretty nasty case of motorbike meets truck - where there were men cleaning up the blood with squeegy mops and headed back to Hanoi
tbc...
Now on an English-speaking tour I expected a motley crew of Brits, Kiwis, Aussies, Americans and Canadians (maybe with the odd Dutch or Scandinavian thrown in) but not a bit of it. My tour group consisted of 5 Chilians, 3 Koreans, 2 Malaysians, 2 French, 2 Japanese and a German. Along with the Vietnamese crew, this made me the only native English speaker on the tour. And so began my two day career as an interpretor between Asian Second Language English and European Second Language English as the differences seemed to be huge. Personally I thought the standards of English were great, but the French couldn't understand the Vietnamese, and the Japanese couldn't understand the Chileans but other than that the conversations were fun if a little stilted. According to my lovely Korean (not very good at English) roommate and his reliable I-Phone translation, I am "bravery" for coming travelling on my own. Which is nice.
Ha Long Bay may well push Victoria Falls and the road between Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng into 2nd and 3rd place into the list of places I've seen. Its hard to do the place justice in words or pictures if I'm honest. The hundreds of tiny islands make "the bay of the descending dragon"so gorgeous that I advise everyone to go. Now. Stop reading this and leave. Book the tickets and get there.
Still here? Fine then I'll keep typing. The next morning we got up and went for a walk on Cat Ba Island. At the top of the large hill there was a viewing gallery made of rust and plywood but as it was labeled "solid as a rock" up I duely went. The view was amazing. The holes in the floor and the Vietnamese Killer Hornets were not, so down I duely came.
We were then transferred to our hotel for the evening and as Youngjay had left I was put into a suite with a charming gay German couple. Now if I'm being totally honest then they probaly weren't a couple but the camp horseplay and comments gave them that air. We met up with the Aussie from the day before and then all went to the beach. Me and the Germans decided to swim out to the island in the bay that looked close. Actually it turned out to pretty far away. I was knackered (and bleeding) by the time I made it back to the shore.
That night we went out for drinks and met up with a group that some of you would have avoided like the plague --> Five French dentists. After this we went and watched some people doing rock climbing which was pretty cool. Until a chunk of the cliffside fell off. That killed the atmos a little...
The next day - after a strange meal which may well have contained dog - we headed back towards Hanoi. We moved well for two and a half hours until we hit tailbacks that went for miles. The driver seemingly used to this sort of thing switched off the engine and got out of the cab. Well when in Vietnam.... So I went for a walk along one of the busiest motorways in Vietnam. It was a strange experience, but it made for a couple of interesting sites - such as a bus full of monks, almost all on their mobile phones - presumably explaining why they were late.
We eventually got going again and passed the site of the two accidents which had delayed us - one of which looked like a pretty nasty case of motorbike meets truck - where there were men cleaning up the blood with squeegy mops and headed back to Hanoi
tbc...
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
I'll say one thing for those French colonialsits. They had good taste...
- This entry was written sitting on a junk boat off the coast of Vietnam. Jealous yet? -
Well what do I make of Hanoi after my 3 nights there? I can honestly say its the best city - and potentially the best place - I've been to so far. The Old Quarter is THE image of South East Asian cities I came here with. There are stalls in alleyways, doormouths, all along the pavements, food of all sorts available everywhere, the buzz of 10 billion motorbikes (that's just a rough estimate I'm sure you'll understand) and a much stronger sense of national identity (Large Capital v Large Capital) than Bangkok.
The bustle in the city is immense but its easy to drift in and out as you please as the focus of the busyness isn't on you, the way it is in other tourist heavy areas. The motorbikes are pretty crazy, but as long as you keep a steady pace when you cross the roads 99.99% of the time they will avoid you. The other 00.01% you'll have to pull off a leap that would make James Bond proud. Hopefully that's me had my one for this trip.
The food is excellent and CHEAP and for those of you heading out my way I can recommend the water snake - somewhere between salmon and tuna in texture but its own flavour.
The people are really friendly - although repeatedly being asked if I'm married very early in the conversation (by both men and women) is a little odd.
For the first time in my trip, I didn't go and do the sights almost straight after arriving in the town. I just sat back and soaked in the town. I did go to the musee des beaux artes which was well worth the 65p entry fee. The rest of the sights will be done, but not til i come back from Ha Long bay or Sapa.
The weather here is great. The roughly five degree temperature drop from Bangkok was amazing, and the humidity is so much lower. Makes it so much easier to turn down the people who try and pick you up in taxis/cyclos/bikes. Although I do occasionally like to ride the motorbikes for fun.
Well what do I make of Hanoi after my 3 nights there? I can honestly say its the best city - and potentially the best place - I've been to so far. The Old Quarter is THE image of South East Asian cities I came here with. There are stalls in alleyways, doormouths, all along the pavements, food of all sorts available everywhere, the buzz of 10 billion motorbikes (that's just a rough estimate I'm sure you'll understand) and a much stronger sense of national identity (Large Capital v Large Capital) than Bangkok.
The bustle in the city is immense but its easy to drift in and out as you please as the focus of the busyness isn't on you, the way it is in other tourist heavy areas. The motorbikes are pretty crazy, but as long as you keep a steady pace when you cross the roads 99.99% of the time they will avoid you. The other 00.01% you'll have to pull off a leap that would make James Bond proud. Hopefully that's me had my one for this trip.
The food is excellent and CHEAP and for those of you heading out my way I can recommend the water snake - somewhere between salmon and tuna in texture but its own flavour.
The people are really friendly - although repeatedly being asked if I'm married very early in the conversation (by both men and women) is a little odd.
For the first time in my trip, I didn't go and do the sights almost straight after arriving in the town. I just sat back and soaked in the town. I did go to the musee des beaux artes which was well worth the 65p entry fee. The rest of the sights will be done, but not til i come back from Ha Long bay or Sapa.
The weather here is great. The roughly five degree temperature drop from Bangkok was amazing, and the humidity is so much lower. Makes it so much easier to turn down the people who try and pick you up in taxis/cyclos/bikes. Although I do occasionally like to ride the motorbikes for fun.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
How to be really Hanoi-ing....
Now that was an eventful trip....
About 15 minutes before take off, as we got ready to get on the plane, a lovely reassuring announcement came over then tanoy that our plane was having technical problems and there would be a delay of about an hour.
The delay (short by the standards of my trip so far as I'm sure my long term fans will know) didn't phase me in the slightest, although it did make me wonder about my pick up that I had arranged with the hostel at the other end.
About an hour after out intended arrival time, I filled in my medical questionnaire on the plane declaring my a1 fitness (ahem) and then wandered through to arrivals. The silly Belgian girl who admitted to headaches and a cough was taken away never to be seen again
As I feared there was no driver with a sign saying Eric Johnstone and as I'm such a genius I hadn't taken down the details ò the hostel I was to be staying at. So after a brief flirtation with admitting that I was indeed - as I was asked several times - Miss Julie Sanders I went and found an internet cafe to get the hostels phone number.
Now at this point, my ears hadn't popped from the plane journey, so the conversation but I managed to establish both that there was a giraffe somewhere on the motorway and also that there had been a problem with my booking, but that a driver would be here in 10 minutes to come and get me.
After an interesting drive (as in Laos - but not Thailand - they drive on the wrong side ò the road here) we arrived at the hostel only for me to be told, by the very sincerely sorry South African behind the counter, that the booking mix up meant that there was no space for me at the hostel, so I was referred - with apologies and a taxi to a nearby hotel that I was told would cost about $10-$12 a night. So we get to the door and in comes the driver.
Now as things haven't been running smoothly I decided that I should check the price with the receptionist lest I receive an unpleasant surprise in the morning. I was told that it was $55 for the night. Now in my sleep deprived, slightly dehydrated and somewhat hungry state ( Airport Burger King - the only place that wasn't ridiculously priced - hadn't sat well) I decided that this was funny. And declined the offer at that price. After calming myself, I explained I had been told it was $12. After a brief conversation in Vietnamese with my driver, the receptionist - sensing my immense bargaining skills (or perhaps realising that at 00.15 on Sunday night my offer was the best coming) agreed to my price.
In its defense the room was very nice....
When I got up in the morning I realised that I had no idea where I was in relation to last nights hostel (Where I did have another two nights booked - incidentally I have since checked and it was THEIR mistake not mine - I have emails to prove it. There was also someone else that this happened to - methinks we got bumped for a BIG group). Anyway I was standing with the address in my hand when the receptionist from the previous night arrived in full national dress, removed her motorbike helmet and offered me a lift. what else could I do but accept? So out I moto'd into the Hanoi morning
About 15 minutes before take off, as we got ready to get on the plane, a lovely reassuring announcement came over then tanoy that our plane was having technical problems and there would be a delay of about an hour.
The delay (short by the standards of my trip so far as I'm sure my long term fans will know) didn't phase me in the slightest, although it did make me wonder about my pick up that I had arranged with the hostel at the other end.
About an hour after out intended arrival time, I filled in my medical questionnaire on the plane declaring my a1 fitness (ahem) and then wandered through to arrivals. The silly Belgian girl who admitted to headaches and a cough was taken away never to be seen again
As I feared there was no driver with a sign saying Eric Johnstone and as I'm such a genius I hadn't taken down the details ò the hostel I was to be staying at. So after a brief flirtation with admitting that I was indeed - as I was asked several times - Miss Julie Sanders I went and found an internet cafe to get the hostels phone number.
Now at this point, my ears hadn't popped from the plane journey, so the conversation but I managed to establish both that there was a giraffe somewhere on the motorway and also that there had been a problem with my booking, but that a driver would be here in 10 minutes to come and get me.
After an interesting drive (as in Laos - but not Thailand - they drive on the wrong side ò the road here) we arrived at the hostel only for me to be told, by the very sincerely sorry South African behind the counter, that the booking mix up meant that there was no space for me at the hostel, so I was referred - with apologies and a taxi to a nearby hotel that I was told would cost about $10-$12 a night. So we get to the door and in comes the driver.
Now as things haven't been running smoothly I decided that I should check the price with the receptionist lest I receive an unpleasant surprise in the morning. I was told that it was $55 for the night. Now in my sleep deprived, slightly dehydrated and somewhat hungry state ( Airport Burger King - the only place that wasn't ridiculously priced - hadn't sat well) I decided that this was funny. And declined the offer at that price. After calming myself, I explained I had been told it was $12. After a brief conversation in Vietnamese with my driver, the receptionist - sensing my immense bargaining skills (or perhaps realising that at 00.15 on Sunday night my offer was the best coming) agreed to my price.
In its defense the room was very nice....
When I got up in the morning I realised that I had no idea where I was in relation to last nights hostel (Where I did have another two nights booked - incidentally I have since checked and it was THEIR mistake not mine - I have emails to prove it. There was also someone else that this happened to - methinks we got bumped for a BIG group). Anyway I was standing with the address in my hand when the receptionist from the previous night arrived in full national dress, removed her motorbike helmet and offered me a lift. what else could I do but accept? So out I moto'd into the Hanoi morning
Bye Bye Bangkok and Thai
For the next while my blogs are going to be based on diary entries and therefor the tenses may well vary hugely. Also I am trying to use a keyboard set up for French and Vietnamese so the letters are changing on me an awful lot. so if any weird characters appear please excuse!
- So I'm sitting in the lobby of the hotel, waiting to meet up with Em for lunch. I've got about 6 hours left in what, historically speaking, has to be considered the luckiest country in South East Asia. there have been no civil wars of which to speak, there has been no American bombing raids to flush out the Communists, no brutal oppressive regimes that murdered their own people, no Imperial power running the country into the ground for its own ends, and there - probably because of all this - has been relative economic stability.
As a tourist, Thailand's privileged place acts as a mixed blessing. The good thing is that there is a strong infrastructure in place. The roads and railways are both there and work well. The journey estimates are not too bad, and especially on the trains, the level of comfort is high. The medical services which - touch wood, I have so far been lucky enough to avoid using are of a high quality and are able to deal with most problems.
The downside comes "with the westernisation" that money has brought to Bangkok (and a lot of the tourist hot-spots) these places have become overrun with Burger King, McDonald's, KFCs and 7 Elevens. There could potentially be more Thai restaurants in a square mile of NYC than in one in Bangkok.
That not to say that I'll leave with a negative impression. Having been in Asia for long enough to get used to the way of life, I have loved being back in Bangkok - and once they know I've been around I get no hassle from the touts and scam artists.
5pm - Airport
My plane just drove past the window with the slogan "now everyone can fly" written on the side. I just hope that's not the recruitment policy....
- So I'm sitting in the lobby of the hotel, waiting to meet up with Em for lunch. I've got about 6 hours left in what, historically speaking, has to be considered the luckiest country in South East Asia. there have been no civil wars of which to speak, there has been no American bombing raids to flush out the Communists, no brutal oppressive regimes that murdered their own people, no Imperial power running the country into the ground for its own ends, and there - probably because of all this - has been relative economic stability.
As a tourist, Thailand's privileged place acts as a mixed blessing. The good thing is that there is a strong infrastructure in place. The roads and railways are both there and work well. The journey estimates are not too bad, and especially on the trains, the level of comfort is high. The medical services which - touch wood, I have so far been lucky enough to avoid using are of a high quality and are able to deal with most problems.
The downside comes "with the westernisation" that money has brought to Bangkok (and a lot of the tourist hot-spots) these places have become overrun with Burger King, McDonald's, KFCs and 7 Elevens. There could potentially be more Thai restaurants in a square mile of NYC than in one in Bangkok.
That not to say that I'll leave with a negative impression. Having been in Asia for long enough to get used to the way of life, I have loved being back in Bangkok - and once they know I've been around I get no hassle from the touts and scam artists.
5pm - Airport
My plane just drove past the window with the slogan "now everyone can fly" written on the side. I just hope that's not the recruitment policy....
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Bangkok Revisited.
So I got off the train from Nong Khai at about 7.30 in the morning. I had presumed when I booked it that like all Thai trains I've been on this would be three hours late and deliver me to town at the semi-reasonable time of 10am. But nooooo! They've put someone efficient in charge. Trains are starting to run on time now! What is the world coming to I ask you?
So in my sleep deprived state, I decided to go for a walk. So I wandered over to the left luggage counter and thats where I encountered a strange phenomenon for the second time in Thailand. At 8 am and 6pm every day, in public buildings (such as the train station and Chaing Mai market where I first encountered it) they play the national anthem. And in Thailand the anthem doesn't get the half hearted "O flower of Scotland, nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah" that it does over here. Everyone stops still and stands to attention. No matter what they are doing. So even though the guy was halfway through taking my bag he stopped, stood still and waited until the end before giving me my ticket. Its a little unnerving the first time you see 3000 people stop stalk still let me tell you! I felt an obligation to join in, but as I was rusty on the words, I just went for the respectful silence option. I think that was taken as an acceptable alternative both times.
So with my bag duely stored, I went for my wander. I ended up in a maze of back alleys in the middle of the town. A couple of strange turns and I was in the middle of a ghetto in bangkok. Needless to say I was miles from the internet cafe I thought would help me pass the time. So I wandered for about 20 minutes and headed back to the station. Only to spot one across the road from the main enterance... d'oh
So in my sleep deprived state, I decided to go for a walk. So I wandered over to the left luggage counter and thats where I encountered a strange phenomenon for the second time in Thailand. At 8 am and 6pm every day, in public buildings (such as the train station and Chaing Mai market where I first encountered it) they play the national anthem. And in Thailand the anthem doesn't get the half hearted "O flower of Scotland, nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah" that it does over here. Everyone stops still and stands to attention. No matter what they are doing. So even though the guy was halfway through taking my bag he stopped, stood still and waited until the end before giving me my ticket. Its a little unnerving the first time you see 3000 people stop stalk still let me tell you! I felt an obligation to join in, but as I was rusty on the words, I just went for the respectful silence option. I think that was taken as an acceptable alternative both times.
So with my bag duely stored, I went for my wander. I ended up in a maze of back alleys in the middle of the town. A couple of strange turns and I was in the middle of a ghetto in bangkok. Needless to say I was miles from the internet cafe I thought would help me pass the time. So I wandered for about 20 minutes and headed back to the station. Only to spot one across the road from the main enterance... d'oh
Bangkok the second time around is a very different place to stay in. Once you're used to the hussle and bussle of asia as well as the temperature it can be quite fun to take in the sights and sounds. I also started to play with the chancers who try and take new arrivals for a ride. When they come out with a really high price for a tuk tuk for example 400 baht for a ride which cost 100 on the way there, I counter with my own offer of 5 baht and see them splutter for a bit before I walk off. When I cant be bothered, I go for the response of "six weeks" when they ask how long I've been here and they for some reason rapidly loose interest...
Its also allowed me to become reaquainted with a strange phenomenon. There is a local and often played song by a local girl group which really sounded out of place the first time I heard it. Its a cover of Zombie by the Cranberries. By the Thai equivelant of girls aloud. Oh dear....
Escape from LA (OS)
So I'm back in Thailand and once again on a sleeper train. I have to say I love these things, they basically act like mobile hotels (and are nicer than a couple of the hotels I've stayed in so far).
I rocked up at the travel agent who I booked my ticket through in Vientiane to find his door locked, even though it was ten minutes before my agreed pick up time. I had visions of him running off with my 1050 baht (20ish quid) - incidentally that's almost twice the average weekly wage in Laos - with all the phone calls the previous day having been a bluff.
Fortunately he eventually showed up - as did my lift. We took a pick up truck to the border, where I paid my 3000 kip (20-25p) stamping out bribe... sorry I mean fee and left behind the first communist country that I've visited. And I'll be honest, second to Zambia, probably the happiest. The people here have a wonderfully laid back attitude that if we could all copy would make the world a happier place.
Anyway at the border I got on the first of my two trains for the 15 minute jump to Thailand. and other than nearly mangling a car on what can only be called a level crossing because the rail and road were at roughly the same height the journey passed without event. Two stamps and a second Thai visa later I sat myself down for the hour's wait between two the trains. I put down my bags - which incidentally I've worked out now weight more than a third of my body weight - and relaxed. my bags however caught the interest of a local dog who came sniffing over. Then came the fastest move I've made in weeks, as that scruffy little bastard cocked his leg I managed to snatch my bag up to head height while simultaneously aiming a kick at him. After considering his options he slunk off and I - in case he'd gone for reinforcements - made for the train.
On the train I met Lazslo, a Hungarian American retiree lawyer who was apparently part of the firm who defended James Earl Ray ( the man who shot Martin Luther King Jr.). Apparently during this time he received death threats. He was now living in Thailand with his Thai wife. We had a laugh for a couple of hours, until the train official insisted we go to bed at 9.30. During this time he shared with me several interesting theories - including the idea that the JFK assassination was the work of the French Secret Service, and that he (Laszlo) was meant to be a passenger on Pan-Am flight 103 (the one blown up over Lockerbie) until he turned up at the airport to find his reservation mysteriously cancelled.
Just before bed time he asked to buy my lower bunk ticket for 500B and his upper bunk, on account of his prostate problems. To stave off further details - and because I liked the idea of two nights accommodation for nothing - I agreed. Felt like I got a good deal.
In the morning when I woke up Laszlo was gone. Had he disappeared in the night to the Bangkok suburbs or was he just a figment of my overtired imagination?
I rocked up at the travel agent who I booked my ticket through in Vientiane to find his door locked, even though it was ten minutes before my agreed pick up time. I had visions of him running off with my 1050 baht (20ish quid) - incidentally that's almost twice the average weekly wage in Laos - with all the phone calls the previous day having been a bluff.
Fortunately he eventually showed up - as did my lift. We took a pick up truck to the border, where I paid my 3000 kip (20-25p) stamping out bribe... sorry I mean fee and left behind the first communist country that I've visited. And I'll be honest, second to Zambia, probably the happiest. The people here have a wonderfully laid back attitude that if we could all copy would make the world a happier place.
Anyway at the border I got on the first of my two trains for the 15 minute jump to Thailand. and other than nearly mangling a car on what can only be called a level crossing because the rail and road were at roughly the same height the journey passed without event. Two stamps and a second Thai visa later I sat myself down for the hour's wait between two the trains. I put down my bags - which incidentally I've worked out now weight more than a third of my body weight - and relaxed. my bags however caught the interest of a local dog who came sniffing over. Then came the fastest move I've made in weeks, as that scruffy little bastard cocked his leg I managed to snatch my bag up to head height while simultaneously aiming a kick at him. After considering his options he slunk off and I - in case he'd gone for reinforcements - made for the train.
On the train I met Lazslo, a Hungarian American retiree lawyer who was apparently part of the firm who defended James Earl Ray ( the man who shot Martin Luther King Jr.). Apparently during this time he received death threats. He was now living in Thailand with his Thai wife. We had a laugh for a couple of hours, until the train official insisted we go to bed at 9.30. During this time he shared with me several interesting theories - including the idea that the JFK assassination was the work of the French Secret Service, and that he (Laszlo) was meant to be a passenger on Pan-Am flight 103 (the one blown up over Lockerbie) until he turned up at the airport to find his reservation mysteriously cancelled.
Just before bed time he asked to buy my lower bunk ticket for 500B and his upper bunk, on account of his prostate problems. To stave off further details - and because I liked the idea of two nights accommodation for nothing - I agreed. Felt like I got a good deal.
In the morning when I woke up Laszlo was gone. Had he disappeared in the night to the Bangkok suburbs or was he just a figment of my overtired imagination?
Monday, 26 October 2009
Vientiane 2
So due to a combination of having waited an hour and half for photos to upload only to be told at the last photo - "Upload error please try again" and suffering from hunger pangs you wouldn't believe I decided that the best course of action was to leave the Internet shop and go get a sandwich rather than breaking down in angry tears.
The points I missed for Vientiane are the fact that I missed the greatest shot I could have taken with the camera, by virtue of not speaking enough Laos (or the monk enough English) to establish if it was OK for me to take a picture of the monk using his camera phone to take a picture of Buddha at the old temple in the middle of town.
The second thing that I neglected to mention was the Lao Revolutionary museum which gave an interesting (if a little jingoistic) view on the war with America. They spent a lot of time talking about the puppets and stooges of the US war masters. From what I've heard there's more of this to come in Vietnam, but it does make a difference from the usual US bias in media and film.
The points I missed for Vientiane are the fact that I missed the greatest shot I could have taken with the camera, by virtue of not speaking enough Laos (or the monk enough English) to establish if it was OK for me to take a picture of the monk using his camera phone to take a picture of Buddha at the old temple in the middle of town.
The second thing that I neglected to mention was the Lao Revolutionary museum which gave an interesting (if a little jingoistic) view on the war with America. They spent a lot of time talking about the puppets and stooges of the US war masters. From what I've heard there's more of this to come in Vietnam, but it does make a difference from the usual US bias in media and film.
Vientiane
So this is me almost up to date on my postings. Now I'm all alone with the rest of the group having gone their separate ways - HI GUYS! - I'm starting this with only 2 hours to go before my 15 hour ( in SEA travel time read 18 minimum) long hour trip back to Bangkok from where I fly to Hanoi. And yes those of you who have a map, I'm aware this is like leaving Berlin for Madrid to go to Moscow, but its cheaper this way (mostly because you'd have to carry me unconscious into a 24 hour bus journey, which is what it would be from here to northern Vietnam. The Bangkok trip is by sleeper train, which here means a reasonably comfy bed so its nowhere near as harrowing.
So what are my thoughts on the capital of Laos? Well other than the slight grievance I have for the country making a second spirited attempt to break one of my big toes (the first was in the waterfall at Luang Prabang) I've liked the city. Its much more laid back than the other cities I've visited in Asia so far. The evenings are a little quiet, other than the disco in the bizarre setting of a five star hotel, which basically functions as a place for tourists to pick up local women, but all in all its a very nice city.
We did the tourist trail visiting the oldest and most important temples in the city(Wat Si Saket and Pha That Luang) - now it may just be me believing the hype, but I've now sat before Buddha in the holiest sites in Thailand and Laos and these places have felt more tranquil than the others.
We also visited Patuxai, a monument modeled on the Arc De Triomphe in Paris (but slightly taller Laos 1 - 0 France) which gave great views of the city. I was puzzled to find a market in full swing half way up the tower, but horses for courses eh?
The food in Laos has been interesting, as there is much more of a western influence here. Was nice to get some bread and cheese again but I'll be glad to get back to the more traditional Asian foods and leave the tourist food behind again (for a while). The noddles to seem to make me lose weight though. Might have to up to five meals a day again.....
So what are my thoughts on the capital of Laos? Well other than the slight grievance I have for the country making a second spirited attempt to break one of my big toes (the first was in the waterfall at Luang Prabang) I've liked the city. Its much more laid back than the other cities I've visited in Asia so far. The evenings are a little quiet, other than the disco in the bizarre setting of a five star hotel, which basically functions as a place for tourists to pick up local women, but all in all its a very nice city.
We did the tourist trail visiting the oldest and most important temples in the city(Wat Si Saket and Pha That Luang) - now it may just be me believing the hype, but I've now sat before Buddha in the holiest sites in Thailand and Laos and these places have felt more tranquil than the others.
We also visited Patuxai, a monument modeled on the Arc De Triomphe in Paris (but slightly taller Laos 1 - 0 France) which gave great views of the city. I was puzzled to find a market in full swing half way up the tower, but horses for courses eh?
The food in Laos has been interesting, as there is much more of a western influence here. Was nice to get some bread and cheese again but I'll be glad to get back to the more traditional Asian foods and leave the tourist food behind again (for a while). The noddles to seem to make me lose weight though. Might have to up to five meals a day again.....
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Tubing (and Vang Vieng)
So I moved on from the curfew in Luang Prabang, that had led to at least one resourceful entry after 11.30pm to a more lively town where government suggestions / laws / rules of nature seemed to go out the window.
After our long and winding bus journey we got showered and headed out for dinner. We then headed to Q BAR. Those of you who have passed through Vang Vieng will of course know that this is a classy establishment where the bourgeoisie go for cocktails of an evening. I walked to the bar and was astounded to find that the barman was from Balloch. Not because of the scarcity of Scots that I've encountered on my trip so far, but because I didn't realise that people actually came from Balloch, its always seemed more a place you go to. For the day. And leave before it gets dark. Anyway after a brief chinwag, I was recommended a "bucket" of vodka and coke. The word bucket should have been the first warning bell. The second should have come at the price. Buckets were 10 000 kip each. The current exchange rate is 13650 kip = one pound. From this you can judge the quality of the vodka. At this point I noticed the pool table in the corner and wandered over to get involved. The next few hours held the most international pool games I've ever played. I like to think that me and Nong (my Laotian doubles partner) held our own against the best England, Wales, Finland, The USA, Cambodia, France, Canada and Germany had to offer. Along the way I was given another bucket. It shouldn't be possible to be drunk on one pound fifty.
On the first full day in town, we decided that we should celebrate my amazing clear head by going tubing. For those of you not so lucky to have an iron constitution then this is definitely a kill or cure option. Basically it involves floating down the river in an old tractor tire inner tube (hence tubing). I say basically as there are several pubs at the side who lasso you as you pass and then attempt to force feed you your weight in alcohol before pushing you off tall platforms attached to a piece of rope. The first "ride" which I went on whilst still bone dry (incidentally not a good idea) involved a 15/20 metre high trapeze that swung down to about 3 metres above the water and then back into the air again. Having watched local 4 year olds doing flips as they let go I decided I had to climb up. The first rush I got was climbing up the rickety ladder to the platform. I lent on the side to recover and now I know what people mean by vertigo. I decided the best way to cure this was to throw myself off the platform. The rush in the 5 seconds I was in the air was unbelievable. So was the temperature of the water. I also discovered (for those of you wondering) that freezer bags are conclusively not waterproof, but luckily Laotian money is.
So after this I settled into a day of floating, refreshments - non alcoholic after the injuries I'd seen people sporting the day before - and adrenaline inducing swings, I reached the last bar at about five o'clock. Now the one piece of advice I was given was get off the water before dark. As sunset is about 5.50 I decided to fore go the last slide and head off for the finish line. This seemed a good plan. However dusk came and went and I was still not in sight of the finish. Then the sky cracked with ball lightning. As I was sitting there shivering in my ring, my partner in crime (the Irish stowaway from the slow boat) stopped to pick up a hitchhiker from the riverside. Now the weight of two people was enough that I sped (!) off down the river and lost sight of him completely. In the next ten minutes I'd convinced myself he has been murdered and left to float down the river by his mysterious passenger - who would no doubt steal the money I had entrusted to his dry bag.
I eventually caught up with an English girl and we got to chatting, and before I knew it we were at the lights of town. Not that I could see any point to get out of the river. Luckily I was then dragged out of the river by a four year old local girl. Unluckily (for her) as I mentioned before I didn't have any money to give her the tip she wanted (and deserved). But at least I was back on dry land.
After our long and winding bus journey we got showered and headed out for dinner. We then headed to Q BAR. Those of you who have passed through Vang Vieng will of course know that this is a classy establishment where the bourgeoisie go for cocktails of an evening. I walked to the bar and was astounded to find that the barman was from Balloch. Not because of the scarcity of Scots that I've encountered on my trip so far, but because I didn't realise that people actually came from Balloch, its always seemed more a place you go to. For the day. And leave before it gets dark. Anyway after a brief chinwag, I was recommended a "bucket" of vodka and coke. The word bucket should have been the first warning bell. The second should have come at the price. Buckets were 10 000 kip each. The current exchange rate is 13650 kip = one pound. From this you can judge the quality of the vodka. At this point I noticed the pool table in the corner and wandered over to get involved. The next few hours held the most international pool games I've ever played. I like to think that me and Nong (my Laotian doubles partner) held our own against the best England, Wales, Finland, The USA, Cambodia, France, Canada and Germany had to offer. Along the way I was given another bucket. It shouldn't be possible to be drunk on one pound fifty.
On the first full day in town, we decided that we should celebrate my amazing clear head by going tubing. For those of you not so lucky to have an iron constitution then this is definitely a kill or cure option. Basically it involves floating down the river in an old tractor tire inner tube (hence tubing). I say basically as there are several pubs at the side who lasso you as you pass and then attempt to force feed you your weight in alcohol before pushing you off tall platforms attached to a piece of rope. The first "ride" which I went on whilst still bone dry (incidentally not a good idea) involved a 15/20 metre high trapeze that swung down to about 3 metres above the water and then back into the air again. Having watched local 4 year olds doing flips as they let go I decided I had to climb up. The first rush I got was climbing up the rickety ladder to the platform. I lent on the side to recover and now I know what people mean by vertigo. I decided the best way to cure this was to throw myself off the platform. The rush in the 5 seconds I was in the air was unbelievable. So was the temperature of the water. I also discovered (for those of you wondering) that freezer bags are conclusively not waterproof, but luckily Laotian money is.
So after this I settled into a day of floating, refreshments - non alcoholic after the injuries I'd seen people sporting the day before - and adrenaline inducing swings, I reached the last bar at about five o'clock. Now the one piece of advice I was given was get off the water before dark. As sunset is about 5.50 I decided to fore go the last slide and head off for the finish line. This seemed a good plan. However dusk came and went and I was still not in sight of the finish. Then the sky cracked with ball lightning. As I was sitting there shivering in my ring, my partner in crime (the Irish stowaway from the slow boat) stopped to pick up a hitchhiker from the riverside. Now the weight of two people was enough that I sped (!) off down the river and lost sight of him completely. In the next ten minutes I'd convinced myself he has been murdered and left to float down the river by his mysterious passenger - who would no doubt steal the money I had entrusted to his dry bag.
I eventually caught up with an English girl and we got to chatting, and before I knew it we were at the lights of town. Not that I could see any point to get out of the river. Luckily I was then dragged out of the river by a four year old local girl. Unluckily (for her) as I mentioned before I didn't have any money to give her the tip she wanted (and deserved). But at least I was back on dry land.
Slow Boat Day 2
What a difference a day makes.....
We turned up at 9 am for the boat ride's second stage ( only 8 hours ) to discover that the three boats of yesterday, filled with comfortable seats that we had spun round so as to be able to talk to one another were gone, to be replaced by one of the same boats, filled with hard wooden seats in a shape that would make a chiropracter's dreams come true.
Presumably they had done this to save petrol by only running one boat and because we were this far along, and having already paid for our tickets, there was nothing for us to do but go along with it. So with my mocking comments of the people who had brought cushions with them the previous day ringing in my ears I contorted my body into the seat. My fellow passengers, who has been bouncing around the boat the day before seemed a little more subdued, due to the combined forces of alcohol, opium and late night attack of bedbugs from which I had been blissfully immune.
I think I'm alone in the fact that I enjoyed the entire second day of the trip. I thought the scenary was amazing, and that the occasional stops by the small riverside villages were a great look at the way life is for some people, living without fresh water, electricity or any other modern conveniences, miles from their nearest neighbours. Would be great to swap lives with them for a week, then to trade back quickly and leg it down to McDonalds....
Anyway after this travelling we arrived in picturesque Luand Prabang (too late at night to see if it was picturesgue but I have been assured that it is)
We turned up at 9 am for the boat ride's second stage ( only 8 hours ) to discover that the three boats of yesterday, filled with comfortable seats that we had spun round so as to be able to talk to one another were gone, to be replaced by one of the same boats, filled with hard wooden seats in a shape that would make a chiropracter's dreams come true.
Presumably they had done this to save petrol by only running one boat and because we were this far along, and having already paid for our tickets, there was nothing for us to do but go along with it. So with my mocking comments of the people who had brought cushions with them the previous day ringing in my ears I contorted my body into the seat. My fellow passengers, who has been bouncing around the boat the day before seemed a little more subdued, due to the combined forces of alcohol, opium and late night attack of bedbugs from which I had been blissfully immune.
I think I'm alone in the fact that I enjoyed the entire second day of the trip. I thought the scenary was amazing, and that the occasional stops by the small riverside villages were a great look at the way life is for some people, living without fresh water, electricity or any other modern conveniences, miles from their nearest neighbours. Would be great to swap lives with them for a week, then to trade back quickly and leg it down to McDonalds....
Anyway after this travelling we arrived in picturesque Luand Prabang (too late at night to see if it was picturesgue but I have been assured that it is)
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