I don't understand why bus companies lie. If a bus journey is going to take 6 and a half hours, then say that. Don't say it's 3. We EVENTUALLY arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's Capitol city where the older western men come to find their child brides. The guesthouse we'd planned to stay at was full so our tuktuk driver took us to another. After checking the room was ok (5floors up, but ok) we went to check in and pay the driver, at which point Bryony's purse was snatched from her hand at lightening speed from a speeding motorbike as she sat in the tuktuk. Thankfully it was only cash that was lost but we all made the decision that we would only go out with the cash we needed for the day and nothing of any worth.
For my last day we thought we'd do something really uplifting and headed for one of the only 'must do' things in Phnom Penh - S21 and the Killing Fields. It was as unpleasant as you'd expect - the school-come-torturous prison was weirdly cool compared to the searing city heat and the fact that it happened less than 40 years ago makes it doubly horrible. The Killing Fields were accompanied by an audio tour which, given that we usually amble round completely clueless, was very interesting. It is so peaceful that its hard to imagine the horror and the paths constantly turn up teeth, bone fragments and scraps of clothing as the ground is worn away so you watch where you walk. We unanimously agreed that we want world peace - shouldn't be too hard.
We headed back to town late afternoon ready for lunch and asked our tuktuk driver to drop us at a cafe. Over our unnecessary cakes and shakes we realised that not only did we not know where we were, we didn't know where our hotel was, what it was called, what it was near or the street name. And having taken 'nothing of worth' out with us we had no way to google and find out. Great! At least it wasn't getting dark (it was getting dark). Luckily Lauren's beady eyes and my Gold DofE managed to get us back relatively issue free. What with our late afternoon snack we weren't up for dinner and I'd agreed to pick up a watch my friend had left in a spa. Lord only knows how she happened across the spa because it was down a very dodgy side street and was a 2hour round trip tuktuk ride away...another lesson learned - even with a map and a 'yes I know where it is' never trust a driver. They have NO idea!
As I'm still not ok with people touching my feet I thought I'd get a manicure before I left. A terrible idea for several reasons including
#1 I never like the end result
#2 I had to pack and wash my hair when we got back - nail intensive activities
Sure enough my almost painfully short, pink lacquered nails did not aid departure preparations, they look awful and I feel like a Barbie. Nail varnish remover will be purchased in touch down in Oz!
And so the time came to bid farewell to my two Brenda's (who are off to Phuket as I've flown to Bangkok). They didn't disappoint and wore their jasmine pants for a travel day . Helpfully the chap at Phnom Penh airport who said he'd checked my bag all the way to Sydney didn't actually check it all the way to Sydney. So I'm sitting in Bangkok airport, in a Starbucks (standard) waiting for check in to open for my onward flight. Only 5 hours, then 3 hours on the other side. Great! It wouldn't be right if the final journey had gone smoothly for once, it's just not the way they roll here.
Friday 14 December 2012
Wednesday 12 December 2012
I really do like to be beside the seaside!
The last few days have passed by in a haze of sun, sea, sand, strolls, seafood bbqs and shandies. Lauren and I checked into a mushroom shaped dorm on Otres beach aka the most chilled out stretch of sand I've ever seen. We headed straight to the beach (a gruelling 30second walk acoss the 'road'), ordered a shandy and before we'd even sat down we'd somehow agreed to have our legs threaded. I'm still not sure how it happened. A family of three set about removing our hairs one by one in a very public manner repeatedly ensuring us they'd be 'soft like baby's bum yes'. I'm not sure what Cambodian baby bottoms feel like but I hope it isn't how our legs ended up. It was essentially the slowest (and sometimes a bit painful) shave we've ever had, but when people stroke you in public and announce it's serious you are shamed into saying 'ok'. (They really weren't that bad, but any hair they see glistening in the sun is horrible to them and I was just relieved I hadn't been offered a chin thread too). The worst part was
Pushy lady: 'How long you been cambodiyaaaa?'
Me: 'just a couple of days'
Pushy lady: 'yes I thought so because you skin so white still *annoying tittery laugh*'
At this point I nearly fumed that I had been working on my tan for nearly 3 months...
Otres was a joy - it was sunny, there weren't too many tat sellers (the mother of the threading family did keep coming up to me and touching knees saying my skin was cool and good which was disconcerting), the sea was warm (you didn't brace yourself wading in) and contrary to it's neighbour, there were far less old-fat-white men with young Cambodian girls. (One of the guesthouses we tried when we arrived only had rooms with a girl...). Days were filled with tricky decisions like 'should we dip in the sea?' and 'how would you lie on your front in that comfortable satellite chair?' and 'is it time for another shandy?'. After a couple of days of beach life we managed to gee ourselves up to go back to serendipity to look into some island trips. We booked a boat to Koh Rong leaving the next day, some snorkeling for Lauren and a couple of dives for me.
Koh Rong is one of those idyllic little jungle islands ringed by white sandy beaches with crystal clear water. Our boat was basic, but we were fortunate enough to be on the same one as a bar owner who was bringing seat cushions over to the island - which made for a most comfortable nap. As we approached it looked lovely - everything very rustic and thatched, no cars etc and I thought how it was the first island that wasn't a disappointment after the joy of the Gilis. On closer inspection it was far more basic than the Gilis. There was no road, just the beach, the bars had electricity but everything was run from a generator that was only on from 5.30pm-10.30pm. It is still fairly untouched, there isn't a way to walk safely around it (unless you fancy a bit of jungle trekking and after hearing that 10of Cambodia's poisonous snakes were resident we passed) so there is a short stretch that has everything.
Our accommodation here was CoCo Bungalows - basic thatched 'bungalows' with no mod cons, open to the elements (walls and ceilings have no need to meet) and as we soon found out, a few added extras. Before I'd even put my bag down Lauren and I had 3 children and a cat. The three little girls were overjoyed to be presented with skittles and a snapping watch and soon we had 6 children all sitting on the porch sharing out the small bag of candy.
We went to see what the island had to offer, had a lovely seafood BBQ and returned at leisure to our residence. The 'bathroom' was along a 'path' (the sort of uneven paving that Accident Direct would love) about 100m from the bungalow. I use the term 'bathroom' in the loosest sense - there was one bare bulb outside, rendering the inside almost completely dark which added to the damp feeling (as did the giant snails and mushrooms growing on the wooden walls). The toilets were a pour-water-in-and-flush-yourself type (there was a frog in the bucket) and outside by the bulb and the sinks (with suspiciously coloured water) were a family of arachnids the size of hands. Needless to say it was not a calming pre bed routine. We stumbled back to the room and opening the door I saw four separate rats scuttle in different directions. Four. The room was a bit like a giant hamster play pen with beams and poles everywhere, but rats clackiting along a pole at dado height right by your bed is not what you need! And obviously the cat was nowhere to be seen. We both got into one bed for safety and slept in the very centre being sure not to touch the mosquito net on any side. Once we'd been brave enough to turn the light off it wasn't long before the sound of something falling over made us jump. The head torch was on in a flash and we scanned the room...the Julie packet (some wafers we'd had as snacks on the boat down to sihanoukville) was on the floor and there was a rat in the bin. We used a broom to move the bin outside and attempted to go to sleep. Our night was interrupted by all sorts of miniature scampering and fighting squeaks - I woke up at one point to find Lauren with the headtorch watching two noses poking out of the corner. Our mosquito net protection seemed worryingly thin (and trapped a mosquito which was juicy by the time we found it in the morning). Morning came round soon enough!
As we walked along the jetty we saw a little boy who had just caught a little fish. As we we drew the breath to saw 'awww' he swung the line behind him, over his head an smashed the fish on the floor (imagine an overarm throw). An anti-awww moment. We were a little speechless. Our day on the boat was good fun, but a second waterproof camera proved itself not to be waterproof and I have been spoiled by learning to dive in Indonesia as despite our dive master guide saying how amazing the dive had been, it was very average.
When we were back on the island we decided to go and watch the sunset from the beautiful briny sea - it took much longer than expected, but we waited for darkness to fall so we could see the phosphorescent bacteria. It was very cool and we had lots of fun larking about (until realising it was actually quite chilly out of the water).
The evening passed by in much the same way as the others and although we could hear the rats, we didn't actually see any which sort of made us feel better. Until the morning when one of our rodent friends was brazenly sitting on the wooden surround of the bed. You can imagine how shrill I was.
So we checked out of Casa del Rat and set sail for the mainland (sadly minus the comfy cushions). We'd booked to stay in another shack style dorm in Otres (there isn't much choice) as Bryony was joining us again. Sadly she'd eaten a bad shrimp and was unable to move anywhere with a shared bathroom so came to meet us the day after instead, and 2 became 3 once more. Our last couple of days were spent much like the first, with sunset swims out to fishing boats (which with a bit of team work you could ungracefully fall into and jump off again).
With my Asian journey coming to a close we reluctantly booked a bus to take us back up to Phnom Penh. We spent our last morning on the beach and as we went in to change the heavens opened. Our cue to leave! One wet and bumpy tuktuk ride later we were deposited at the bus station. Everyone loves a bus journey. Yawn.
Pushy lady: 'How long you been cambodiyaaaa?'
Me: 'just a couple of days'
Pushy lady: 'yes I thought so because you skin so white still *annoying tittery laugh*'
At this point I nearly fumed that I had been working on my tan for nearly 3 months...
Otres was a joy - it was sunny, there weren't too many tat sellers (the mother of the threading family did keep coming up to me and touching knees saying my skin was cool and good which was disconcerting), the sea was warm (you didn't brace yourself wading in) and contrary to it's neighbour, there were far less old-fat-white men with young Cambodian girls. (One of the guesthouses we tried when we arrived only had rooms with a girl...). Days were filled with tricky decisions like 'should we dip in the sea?' and 'how would you lie on your front in that comfortable satellite chair?' and 'is it time for another shandy?'. After a couple of days of beach life we managed to gee ourselves up to go back to serendipity to look into some island trips. We booked a boat to Koh Rong leaving the next day, some snorkeling for Lauren and a couple of dives for me.
Koh Rong is one of those idyllic little jungle islands ringed by white sandy beaches with crystal clear water. Our boat was basic, but we were fortunate enough to be on the same one as a bar owner who was bringing seat cushions over to the island - which made for a most comfortable nap. As we approached it looked lovely - everything very rustic and thatched, no cars etc and I thought how it was the first island that wasn't a disappointment after the joy of the Gilis. On closer inspection it was far more basic than the Gilis. There was no road, just the beach, the bars had electricity but everything was run from a generator that was only on from 5.30pm-10.30pm. It is still fairly untouched, there isn't a way to walk safely around it (unless you fancy a bit of jungle trekking and after hearing that 10of Cambodia's poisonous snakes were resident we passed) so there is a short stretch that has everything.
Our accommodation here was CoCo Bungalows - basic thatched 'bungalows' with no mod cons, open to the elements (walls and ceilings have no need to meet) and as we soon found out, a few added extras. Before I'd even put my bag down Lauren and I had 3 children and a cat. The three little girls were overjoyed to be presented with skittles and a snapping watch and soon we had 6 children all sitting on the porch sharing out the small bag of candy.
We went to see what the island had to offer, had a lovely seafood BBQ and returned at leisure to our residence. The 'bathroom' was along a 'path' (the sort of uneven paving that Accident Direct would love) about 100m from the bungalow. I use the term 'bathroom' in the loosest sense - there was one bare bulb outside, rendering the inside almost completely dark which added to the damp feeling (as did the giant snails and mushrooms growing on the wooden walls). The toilets were a pour-water-in-and-flush-yourself type (there was a frog in the bucket) and outside by the bulb and the sinks (with suspiciously coloured water) were a family of arachnids the size of hands. Needless to say it was not a calming pre bed routine. We stumbled back to the room and opening the door I saw four separate rats scuttle in different directions. Four. The room was a bit like a giant hamster play pen with beams and poles everywhere, but rats clackiting along a pole at dado height right by your bed is not what you need! And obviously the cat was nowhere to be seen. We both got into one bed for safety and slept in the very centre being sure not to touch the mosquito net on any side. Once we'd been brave enough to turn the light off it wasn't long before the sound of something falling over made us jump. The head torch was on in a flash and we scanned the room...the Julie packet (some wafers we'd had as snacks on the boat down to sihanoukville) was on the floor and there was a rat in the bin. We used a broom to move the bin outside and attempted to go to sleep. Our night was interrupted by all sorts of miniature scampering and fighting squeaks - I woke up at one point to find Lauren with the headtorch watching two noses poking out of the corner. Our mosquito net protection seemed worryingly thin (and trapped a mosquito which was juicy by the time we found it in the morning). Morning came round soon enough!
As we walked along the jetty we saw a little boy who had just caught a little fish. As we we drew the breath to saw 'awww' he swung the line behind him, over his head an smashed the fish on the floor (imagine an overarm throw). An anti-awww moment. We were a little speechless. Our day on the boat was good fun, but a second waterproof camera proved itself not to be waterproof and I have been spoiled by learning to dive in Indonesia as despite our dive master guide saying how amazing the dive had been, it was very average.
When we were back on the island we decided to go and watch the sunset from the beautiful briny sea - it took much longer than expected, but we waited for darkness to fall so we could see the phosphorescent bacteria. It was very cool and we had lots of fun larking about (until realising it was actually quite chilly out of the water).
The evening passed by in much the same way as the others and although we could hear the rats, we didn't actually see any which sort of made us feel better. Until the morning when one of our rodent friends was brazenly sitting on the wooden surround of the bed. You can imagine how shrill I was.
So we checked out of Casa del Rat and set sail for the mainland (sadly minus the comfy cushions). We'd booked to stay in another shack style dorm in Otres (there isn't much choice) as Bryony was joining us again. Sadly she'd eaten a bad shrimp and was unable to move anywhere with a shared bathroom so came to meet us the day after instead, and 2 became 3 once more. Our last couple of days were spent much like the first, with sunset swims out to fishing boats (which with a bit of team work you could ungracefully fall into and jump off again).
With my Asian journey coming to a close we reluctantly booked a bus to take us back up to Phnom Penh. We spent our last morning on the beach and as we went in to change the heavens opened. Our cue to leave! One wet and bumpy tuktuk ride later we were deposited at the bus station. Everyone loves a bus journey. Yawn.
Thursday 6 December 2012
Hello Cambodia! Angkor What Now?
I take back anything negative I said about SE Asia... Cambodia is amazing (currently judging on one town). We flew to Siem Reap for our first stop, beautiful airport, getting visa and bag back was a breeze and the friendly tuktuk drivers didn't pounce, but were there ready to take us to town for exactly the price mentioned in the book. I mean it is hotter than anywhere else on earth with no breeze and a million mozzies, but it's pretty, it's sunny and the people are, dare I say so early on, really nice!
After checking in at a very cheap guest house (no a/c = steamy old night) we went exploring the delightful town of Siem Reap with its bustling night markets that actually have nice things in (don't get me wrong, there is still endless tat and the 'you buy something laydeeeeee' is still ever there) but it was just nicer.
Having decided a sunrise is a sunrise and our cameras are all so average that googling photos would show it in a far better light we opted to go to the Temples of Angkor for the more sociable time of around 9am. We had planned to cycle there and around as the roads are flat but Siem Reap is the hottest and stickiest place in the world and we were beading before we'd even left the guesthouse so we opted for tuktuk, which in hindsight was a most excellent decision. Our driver, Sinat, was very sweet - clueless on any facts - but very sweet and took us on a great route. There's a lot of walking/climbing around at Angkor and it did not take long before our clothes were stuck to us as we melted in the entirely still air.
Now, we all know I'm not a temple person, but Angkor Wat is one of those you-can't-go-to-Cambodia-and-not-see-it things that we felt we had to do and I can see why. It really is something, especially when you think about how on earth they built these things all those years ago. Although saying that as we were driving there was a
'I think that's Angkor Wat'
'No, it's not impressive enough to be Angkor Wat'
'Yeah, mist be one of the smaller ones'
exchange. It did turn out to be Angkor Wat and while it was very large, we preferred the other ones. They are very well kept and you can explore every nook and cranny.
We spent the day navigating the ruins in the sweltering heat and although it we really enjoyed it, one day was definitely enough...I can't think what you'd do with a week long pass.
With Bryony's boyfriend flying in for a few days 3 shortly became 2. We waved Bryony onto her bus, explored a bit more in the morning and by lunchtime a river of sweat was starting to gush down our backs. The only thing for it was to find a pool and not leave it until the sun had gone down. And what a pool we found! Nestled on top of a plush Hotel for a mere $5 we got a free drink and the afternoon around a gloriously cool pool. It was another 'backpacking is tough' moment as the barman came round to offer us a 'fruit skewer?'. Bliss.
That evening, after a Cambodian BBQ (what you need in the heat is an additional heat source on the table with which to cook your own meat - I tried kangaroo!), we decided to see what the nightlife had to offer. We headed to the aptly named 'Pub Street'. Hideous, grubby, drunk tourists was the answer. Angkor What? Was more Angkor What on earth are you thinking? Obviously we joined in but it was very much a laugh at not laugh with kind of a night. I mean some of these people were horrendous. We ended up being Gretta and Heidi from Bulgaria just in case we ever bumped into anyone again.
So with another culture tick in the box we decided to head down for some beach time at Sihanoukville the following day keeping all our fingers crossed Cambodian transport was a step up from their neighbour's efforts.
In hindsight staying out until 3am the morning before a 6am bus pick up was foolish. We weren't foolish enough to drink heavily but the 5.45am alarm roused us from the very depth of slumber. Also in hindsight trying new things and cooking our own food was a risky little game before a 6hour boat trip but thankfully this didn't have any repercussions. So our lovely guest house owners helped us into a tuktuk with some French toast for the journey. The ride to the 'port' was very bumpy and we arrived a choice shade of orange clutching our lovingly made breakfasts. We boarded our vessel, found two seats and after devouring the lovingly made breakfast attempted to sleep. Unsuccessfully. I had seen some legs disappear up onto the roof where the bags were and we went to investigate. There was a couple up there . Given that the majority of our co-passengers were on some sort of German saga holiday it was pretty much only us and another young couple agile enough to climb up. I can only imagine what this couple thought as we clambered up ungracefully, crawled along on our hands and knees and proceeded to fall deeply, deeply asleep, starfished on the roof. Aside from nipping down for a mid morning snack this is how our journey was spent. The bits we were awake for were very scenic and we passed all sorts of floating fishing villages.
We eventually got to Phnom Pehn and booking an onwards bus to Sihanoukville was remarkably easy and we only had to wait an hour for a bus. Someone once told me to pack a fleece for Asian buses because the temperature is akin to a Siberian winter. I would love to know where this happens because every bus I have been on has been trying to cook me. A combination of the driver moving at a glacial pace, a number of unscheduled repair stops (who doesn't love a bus that breaks down every 20minites) and Cambodian roads meant our 3 hour bus journey took over 8. 18+ hours to travel 200odd miles. I could have flown back to London quicker! This journey also included one of the most terrifying loo stops of my life (not even my mighty bladder can last 18hours) so I made Lauren stand guard as I fended off flying beasties, crawling beasties, jumping beasties and biting beasties over a squat toilet. Ugh. When we eventually arrived we drove around in a tuktuk and after an hour or so eventually found somewhere that wasn't full. It was next to the local club, but it had a bed for us, which given that we had done nothing but sit and nap (and watch House) all day, we were surprisingly pleased to see!
Oh, and one night we had 3 scoops of ice cream. With no regrets.
After checking in at a very cheap guest house (no a/c = steamy old night) we went exploring the delightful town of Siem Reap with its bustling night markets that actually have nice things in (don't get me wrong, there is still endless tat and the 'you buy something laydeeeeee' is still ever there) but it was just nicer.
Having decided a sunrise is a sunrise and our cameras are all so average that googling photos would show it in a far better light we opted to go to the Temples of Angkor for the more sociable time of around 9am. We had planned to cycle there and around as the roads are flat but Siem Reap is the hottest and stickiest place in the world and we were beading before we'd even left the guesthouse so we opted for tuktuk, which in hindsight was a most excellent decision. Our driver, Sinat, was very sweet - clueless on any facts - but very sweet and took us on a great route. There's a lot of walking/climbing around at Angkor and it did not take long before our clothes were stuck to us as we melted in the entirely still air.
Now, we all know I'm not a temple person, but Angkor Wat is one of those you-can't-go-to-Cambodia-and-not-see-it things that we felt we had to do and I can see why. It really is something, especially when you think about how on earth they built these things all those years ago. Although saying that as we were driving there was a
'I think that's Angkor Wat'
'No, it's not impressive enough to be Angkor Wat'
'Yeah, mist be one of the smaller ones'
exchange. It did turn out to be Angkor Wat and while it was very large, we preferred the other ones. They are very well kept and you can explore every nook and cranny.
We spent the day navigating the ruins in the sweltering heat and although it we really enjoyed it, one day was definitely enough...I can't think what you'd do with a week long pass.
With Bryony's boyfriend flying in for a few days 3 shortly became 2. We waved Bryony onto her bus, explored a bit more in the morning and by lunchtime a river of sweat was starting to gush down our backs. The only thing for it was to find a pool and not leave it until the sun had gone down. And what a pool we found! Nestled on top of a plush Hotel for a mere $5 we got a free drink and the afternoon around a gloriously cool pool. It was another 'backpacking is tough' moment as the barman came round to offer us a 'fruit skewer?'. Bliss.
That evening, after a Cambodian BBQ (what you need in the heat is an additional heat source on the table with which to cook your own meat - I tried kangaroo!), we decided to see what the nightlife had to offer. We headed to the aptly named 'Pub Street'. Hideous, grubby, drunk tourists was the answer. Angkor What? Was more Angkor What on earth are you thinking? Obviously we joined in but it was very much a laugh at not laugh with kind of a night. I mean some of these people were horrendous. We ended up being Gretta and Heidi from Bulgaria just in case we ever bumped into anyone again.
So with another culture tick in the box we decided to head down for some beach time at Sihanoukville the following day keeping all our fingers crossed Cambodian transport was a step up from their neighbour's efforts.
In hindsight staying out until 3am the morning before a 6am bus pick up was foolish. We weren't foolish enough to drink heavily but the 5.45am alarm roused us from the very depth of slumber. Also in hindsight trying new things and cooking our own food was a risky little game before a 6hour boat trip but thankfully this didn't have any repercussions. So our lovely guest house owners helped us into a tuktuk with some French toast for the journey. The ride to the 'port' was very bumpy and we arrived a choice shade of orange clutching our lovingly made breakfasts. We boarded our vessel, found two seats and after devouring the lovingly made breakfast attempted to sleep. Unsuccessfully. I had seen some legs disappear up onto the roof where the bags were and we went to investigate. There was a couple up there . Given that the majority of our co-passengers were on some sort of German saga holiday it was pretty much only us and another young couple agile enough to climb up. I can only imagine what this couple thought as we clambered up ungracefully, crawled along on our hands and knees and proceeded to fall deeply, deeply asleep, starfished on the roof. Aside from nipping down for a mid morning snack this is how our journey was spent. The bits we were awake for were very scenic and we passed all sorts of floating fishing villages.
We eventually got to Phnom Pehn and booking an onwards bus to Sihanoukville was remarkably easy and we only had to wait an hour for a bus. Someone once told me to pack a fleece for Asian buses because the temperature is akin to a Siberian winter. I would love to know where this happens because every bus I have been on has been trying to cook me. A combination of the driver moving at a glacial pace, a number of unscheduled repair stops (who doesn't love a bus that breaks down every 20minites) and Cambodian roads meant our 3 hour bus journey took over 8. 18+ hours to travel 200odd miles. I could have flown back to London quicker! This journey also included one of the most terrifying loo stops of my life (not even my mighty bladder can last 18hours) so I made Lauren stand guard as I fended off flying beasties, crawling beasties, jumping beasties and biting beasties over a squat toilet. Ugh. When we eventually arrived we drove around in a tuktuk and after an hour or so eventually found somewhere that wasn't full. It was next to the local club, but it had a bed for us, which given that we had done nothing but sit and nap (and watch House) all day, we were surprisingly pleased to see!
Oh, and one night we had 3 scoops of ice cream. With no regrets.
Thursday 29 November 2012
A Squash and a Squeeze: Sayonara Saigon
Ho Chi Minh (the city formerly known and still referred to as Saigon)
with its 14 lanes of traffic, millions of scooters and thousands of
hotels was a bit of a change from Russian beach town Mui Ne. It still
has all the hallmarks of your typical asian city: tat vendors, side
shops, kamikaze roads to cross, people wearing pajamas day to day, but
is a very different city to Hanoi and I think I like it more. There are
more open spaces, the roads are bigger (less of a chance to get lost in
the maze), the people seem nicer and it's hotter. It's only downside vs
Hanoi (aside from the threat of bag snatching) is that the numerous
fruit sellers find it acceptable to cut and serve durian in the streets
so every now and then you come across a less than favorable smell.
With our new found interest in the Vietnam war we booked onto a tour to visit the Ch Chi tunnels. We waited patiently for our bus in the morning and eventually a small chap with a full head of flowing hair, high waisted jeans, pink neckerchief and beautiful coffee coloured satin shirt came to collect us. 'Jackie' (as in Chan) was a surviving soldier with a childbirth obsession and a knowledgable and entertaining guide. Our fellow bus friends were less than ideal - one giant Malaysian family with odour problems which was quite something in the heat. As the only europeans aboard we were banished to the back row. We did have a seat each (5 between 3!) but there was no suspension so it was ever such a bumpy ride. Jackie was also speaking to us about the war and childbirth so there was no chance to nap.
Before we reached Cu Chi we stopped at a workshop in which (mostly agent-orange affected) artists were on a production line producing some amazing artwork and renovated furniture including the bowls people barter outrageously for in the markets. It was an eye opener when you saw the detail and effort behind every piece, eggshell fragments individually embedded, mother of pearl delicately placed and some pretty nifty brush work. Jackie threw a lot of facts at us on the bus such as since the war there have been 60m births hence why the population is so young, and because there are so many people everything is handmade to increase employment.
We arrived at the tunnels and were joined by a larger group (huge troupe of us now) and started the tour. (I should also mention that mr.chan randomly bought Lauren an iceream which she graciously accepted in the sweltering heat). Jackie was telling us all about the area and its significance and explained that the original tunnels were small, cramped and full of beasties and bats (as unused) and that they had some example tunnels for tourists that were bigger to accommodate for westerners. He asked if anyone wanted to go in the original tunnel and a handsome Aussie lad volunteered. Jackie then moved some leaves aside an revealed an extremely small hole in the floor. He handed Rick (the handsome Aussie) his phone torch, put the lid back down and left him to find the exit. About a minute later he appeared and other than being a bit sweaty seemed unscathed. A very small handful of people then decided that ok, they'd try and for some reason the three of us thought we would too. I mostly blame Lucy for this as I'd seen a photo of her going into the hole and in a tunnel so didn't think it would be that bad. Mistake. Wrong tunnel. Down we went, Bryony, me, Lauren, and once we'd squeezed in there was no going back. It. Was. AWFUL. We were on hands and knees, shoulders touching the walls on both sides, hands on leaves and god knows what (cockroaches and giant millipedes scuttling over them) and bats on the ceiling (happily Bryony was first so they mostly flew into her). Apparently it was only about 10m long but it twisted as turned, was hot as hell, pitch black and quite frankly terrifying. I worked very hard to suppress the rising panic and thankfully this made Lauren and Bryony much calmer as they attempted to calm me. We stayed very close indeed! After a lifetime (about 2 minutes) we heard voices, saw light and THANK THE LORD we at the exit. We emerged sweaty, grubby and shaky,adrenaline pumping. We then realised we hadn't taken a photo (what with the horror and all) so decided to nip into the entrance for a photo op, safe in the knowledge head would be above ground and we wouldn't have to go in again. Bryony and Lauren hopped in, said cheese and climbed out again. I hopped in, said cheese and did NOT pop back out again. As it would happen fatty Wright here has hips decidedly more sizable than the average ayjahn (and the other two!) and lack the upper body strength required to push them back the way they (seemingly effortlessly) came. How hilarious, then less hilarious, then slightly alarming and, on the suggestion I crawl back though, full on panic. There was nothing to put my feet on for help below so I was entirely reliant on arms which had turned to jelly in my (clearly still hilarious) panic. A German man started filming as a couple of the guides attempted to pull me out but I was hot and they weren't helping. Bryony snapped away as Lauren came to my aid and after another lifetime (about 30seconds) I managed to hoof my ass out and clamber out. It was thoroughly ungraceful and simultaneously terrifying, humiliating and very funny. It put me right off my lunch.
Moving on we were shown some horrific Vietnamese booby traps and told more about the very gruesome war. When we got to the 'tourist tunnel' which was bigger, had some lighting and no beasties I couldn't bring myself to go in, so visited at the various safety exits to see how they were getting on. Given my horror on a 10m journey I didn't feel like 200m! I don't think they realised the tunnels were like microphones and everyone on the ground could hear them bleating on about their sweaty mustaches and how they were hotter than baboons. As they had got on fine I did go in the last tunnel, which was about 50m and took you to an underground room. There was still a lot of adrenaline but it was a lot less scary (including seeing a tail disappear into the wall) as we grappled about in the dark and we managed to laugh our way though. It makes you think though - we couldn't cope with two minutes in the actual tunnel and they lived underground for years. Shudder.
Aside from discovering I'm claustrophobic other Ho Chi Minh activities have included a fair amount of wandering (we are much better with bearings here than in Hanoi), the War Remnants Museum (a one sided, graphic look at the war), reunification palace, lots of parks (with bizarre outdoor gyms), bryony finally found her blinking bandana (it feels like an epic journey), tasty market food and frozen yoghurt heaven.
After a relatively event free (tunnel aside) few days something had to crop up before we left and that came in the form of a tiff with our hotel. It was a lovely guest house but we got our washing done and it came back dirty - it neither smelled nor looked clean, so we brought this up and sent it back where they grudgingly did it again. Our grubby cu chi clothes also came back less than fresh (I re-washed mine by hand in the sink afterwards and they were clean with minimal effort so wasn't hard). It wasn't much washing, but it wasn't clean and so we weren't happy paying for the final batch (we had paid for everything else). Eventually the woman snapped and told us to get our stuff and get out, so out we went into the midday heat to kill a couple of hours before our flight. They're a feisty bunch!
Spending a month in 'nam (man) has been an eye opener. We have travelled the length of the country by car, bus, local bus, sleeper bus, train, boat, foot, bike, and motorbike (not to mention quad bike, kayak, sledge and jet ski) - I will never berate south west trains again. And bryony has trodden on my toes more times than i care to count. The only thing left is to fly out... I only wonder what Cambodia has to offer.
With our new found interest in the Vietnam war we booked onto a tour to visit the Ch Chi tunnels. We waited patiently for our bus in the morning and eventually a small chap with a full head of flowing hair, high waisted jeans, pink neckerchief and beautiful coffee coloured satin shirt came to collect us. 'Jackie' (as in Chan) was a surviving soldier with a childbirth obsession and a knowledgable and entertaining guide. Our fellow bus friends were less than ideal - one giant Malaysian family with odour problems which was quite something in the heat. As the only europeans aboard we were banished to the back row. We did have a seat each (5 between 3!) but there was no suspension so it was ever such a bumpy ride. Jackie was also speaking to us about the war and childbirth so there was no chance to nap.
Before we reached Cu Chi we stopped at a workshop in which (mostly agent-orange affected) artists were on a production line producing some amazing artwork and renovated furniture including the bowls people barter outrageously for in the markets. It was an eye opener when you saw the detail and effort behind every piece, eggshell fragments individually embedded, mother of pearl delicately placed and some pretty nifty brush work. Jackie threw a lot of facts at us on the bus such as since the war there have been 60m births hence why the population is so young, and because there are so many people everything is handmade to increase employment.
We arrived at the tunnels and were joined by a larger group (huge troupe of us now) and started the tour. (I should also mention that mr.chan randomly bought Lauren an iceream which she graciously accepted in the sweltering heat). Jackie was telling us all about the area and its significance and explained that the original tunnels were small, cramped and full of beasties and bats (as unused) and that they had some example tunnels for tourists that were bigger to accommodate for westerners. He asked if anyone wanted to go in the original tunnel and a handsome Aussie lad volunteered. Jackie then moved some leaves aside an revealed an extremely small hole in the floor. He handed Rick (the handsome Aussie) his phone torch, put the lid back down and left him to find the exit. About a minute later he appeared and other than being a bit sweaty seemed unscathed. A very small handful of people then decided that ok, they'd try and for some reason the three of us thought we would too. I mostly blame Lucy for this as I'd seen a photo of her going into the hole and in a tunnel so didn't think it would be that bad. Mistake. Wrong tunnel. Down we went, Bryony, me, Lauren, and once we'd squeezed in there was no going back. It. Was. AWFUL. We were on hands and knees, shoulders touching the walls on both sides, hands on leaves and god knows what (cockroaches and giant millipedes scuttling over them) and bats on the ceiling (happily Bryony was first so they mostly flew into her). Apparently it was only about 10m long but it twisted as turned, was hot as hell, pitch black and quite frankly terrifying. I worked very hard to suppress the rising panic and thankfully this made Lauren and Bryony much calmer as they attempted to calm me. We stayed very close indeed! After a lifetime (about 2 minutes) we heard voices, saw light and THANK THE LORD we at the exit. We emerged sweaty, grubby and shaky,adrenaline pumping. We then realised we hadn't taken a photo (what with the horror and all) so decided to nip into the entrance for a photo op, safe in the knowledge head would be above ground and we wouldn't have to go in again. Bryony and Lauren hopped in, said cheese and climbed out again. I hopped in, said cheese and did NOT pop back out again. As it would happen fatty Wright here has hips decidedly more sizable than the average ayjahn (and the other two!) and lack the upper body strength required to push them back the way they (seemingly effortlessly) came. How hilarious, then less hilarious, then slightly alarming and, on the suggestion I crawl back though, full on panic. There was nothing to put my feet on for help below so I was entirely reliant on arms which had turned to jelly in my (clearly still hilarious) panic. A German man started filming as a couple of the guides attempted to pull me out but I was hot and they weren't helping. Bryony snapped away as Lauren came to my aid and after another lifetime (about 30seconds) I managed to hoof my ass out and clamber out. It was thoroughly ungraceful and simultaneously terrifying, humiliating and very funny. It put me right off my lunch.
Moving on we were shown some horrific Vietnamese booby traps and told more about the very gruesome war. When we got to the 'tourist tunnel' which was bigger, had some lighting and no beasties I couldn't bring myself to go in, so visited at the various safety exits to see how they were getting on. Given my horror on a 10m journey I didn't feel like 200m! I don't think they realised the tunnels were like microphones and everyone on the ground could hear them bleating on about their sweaty mustaches and how they were hotter than baboons. As they had got on fine I did go in the last tunnel, which was about 50m and took you to an underground room. There was still a lot of adrenaline but it was a lot less scary (including seeing a tail disappear into the wall) as we grappled about in the dark and we managed to laugh our way though. It makes you think though - we couldn't cope with two minutes in the actual tunnel and they lived underground for years. Shudder.
 |
| Ever the thrilling company |
 |
| tiny original (taken using camera flash to provide light!) |
 |
| Realising I was stuck |
 |
| The 'Bigger' tourist tunnel |
Aside from discovering I'm claustrophobic other Ho Chi Minh activities have included a fair amount of wandering (we are much better with bearings here than in Hanoi), the War Remnants Museum (a one sided, graphic look at the war), reunification palace, lots of parks (with bizarre outdoor gyms), bryony finally found her blinking bandana (it feels like an epic journey), tasty market food and frozen yoghurt heaven.
After a relatively event free (tunnel aside) few days something had to crop up before we left and that came in the form of a tiff with our hotel. It was a lovely guest house but we got our washing done and it came back dirty - it neither smelled nor looked clean, so we brought this up and sent it back where they grudgingly did it again. Our grubby cu chi clothes also came back less than fresh (I re-washed mine by hand in the sink afterwards and they were clean with minimal effort so wasn't hard). It wasn't much washing, but it wasn't clean and so we weren't happy paying for the final batch (we had paid for everything else). Eventually the woman snapped and told us to get our stuff and get out, so out we went into the midday heat to kill a couple of hours before our flight. They're a feisty bunch!
Spending a month in 'nam (man) has been an eye opener. We have travelled the length of the country by car, bus, local bus, sleeper bus, train, boat, foot, bike, and motorbike (not to mention quad bike, kayak, sledge and jet ski) - I will never berate south west trains again. And bryony has trodden on my toes more times than i care to count. The only thing left is to fly out... I only wonder what Cambodia has to offer.
Sunday 25 November 2012
Let's go to the beach beach!
For our last day in Hoi An we were treated to a full hour of sunshine which we used to pedal to the beach. On arrival it promptly clouded over but it was still dry so we were happy. It wasn't long before the heavens opened so on went the ponchos, Lauren hopped on the back of the bike and we used the heaviest rain so far as a perfect time to browse the shops (awful idea) before heading back to our hotel to wait for The Sleeper Bus.
The term 'sleeper' bus is extremely misleading. Instead of the standard coach seats we know and loathe the bus is decked out with two levels of pleather recliners with a box at the end for your feet. Obviously it was raining and obviously I was next to a leaky window, so that was nice. As it was about 6pm we were expecting a bit of chat but the lights were swiftly turned out so we entertained ourselves with eye-spy, I-went-shopping and other such classics. Our driver's favourite games appeared to be 'chicken' with the oncoming traffic (braking so you were rammed into the foot box) and 'beep-the-wretched-horn-as-much-as-I-can'. Our confidence in him only increased after he stopped at about 10pm to drink an entire bottle of rice wine. This being 'nam (man) there obviously a few locals crammed in for good measure and us being lucky they slept in the (very narrow) aisle right next to us. I mean he may as well have been spooning me and various limbs invaded my pleather personal space all night. The stop-start journey of no sleep and Bryony's bursting bladder (she actually fell on me at one point) continued until we were unceremoniously turfed out in Nha Trang at 5.30am...and to think we had foolishly assumed our 'direct bus to mui ne' would be direct. Still we were ejected right next to a cafe which sold coffee and pain at chocolat so there are worse places to be stranded. My bag also felt like it had been thrown in a puddle. A couple of hours later we were picked up by another bus (seats not beds) and had a wonderfully horn free, event free, multiple seats journey to Mui Ne. I wanted to hug the driver. (I say event free, we did make one stop en route to a very strange place playing pan pipe Christmas music with one of the greatest nativity scenes I've ever seen -think neon lights and dolls).
Arriving in Mui Ne was great and after RainFest 2012 it was a welcome scene - a sandy beach that stretched on for miles and SUN. It is also a kitesurfing Mecca so plenty of beach entertainment, mozzies kept at bay, a chance to go windsurfing again and a smattering of handsome men in board shorts to boot.
All this wind made me think I should at least attempt a watersport. As it had been about 6 years since I set foot on a windsurfing board I felt I should get a refresher before merrily hiring some equipment. The only option was a beginner lesson on the morning -no such thing a a refresher it turns out - but Bryony was keen to try and Katie and Dave (our scooter friends who we bump into in every town) were up for it too. So the 4 of us arrived at 8am ready for a morning of fun. An illusion that was promptly shattered the moment we met our instructor Darko the Grouch, an angry, bald Russian man with little to no people skills.
We had a land lesson (my favourite) where he barked contradictory instructions at us 'LOOKA DOWN' ...'DON'T LOOKADOWN LOOKA ME, WHY YOU LOOKADOWN?' whilst explaining the basics (which was like being taught to snow plow again). He also patted the ends of my toes to move my feet so I shrieked and I'm still not sure he knew why (donttouchmytoesihavenonails). When we finally made it into the water (we were half cooked at this point) the others believed my reassurances of 'its easier on the water' and to Darko The Grouch's credit we were all up and sailing around very quickly. Whether it was excellent instruction 'LOOKA DE ANGLE', natural talent or fear of being shouted at I'm not sure. Every time I did anything I remembered from the old days I was told to get back to the starting position and pootle along holding the mast. Lauren (still stitched at this point) was basting on the beach too afraid to congratulate us incase Darko turned on her. Still it was great fun being back out on the waterand even more fun to laugh at 'Brownie' being 'instructed'. 'BROWNIE BACK AND OPEN, NO BROWNIE FRONT AND POWER, BROWNIE JUMP IN'. He did soften a little towards the end but we didn't come back for more and left a little deafer than when we arrived.
The morning exertions had taken it out of us so we spent the remainder of the afternoon frolicking in the sea and enjoying the beach. The marvelous, sandy, sunny beach.
The only downside to the beach is that I'm up to my usual tricks and no matter how hard I try, I've brought a lot of the beach into our room so we are ALWAYS SANDY. I mean there was so much sand on my bed I might as well have been sleeping on the beach.
Another Mui Ne plus is that Sarah (who i met in Bali) was in town so I had a friend to play with in the morning. We had grand plans but they never amounted to much more than strolling along the beach and finding fruit shakes. One morning as the others slept off their red bull heads I met Sarah for breakfast and went exploring to discover a little more of the Russian town and find a jeep to take us on a sand dune adventure in the afternoon.
We started by visiting Fairy spring, a scenic walk up a stream to a fairly unremarkable waterfall, then had a micro stop at a fishing village - very picturesque boats but most definitely a place that should be seen and not smelled as we were surrounded by rotting sea crustaceans and numerous rats feasting on the various remains. We moved swiftly on.
To the white sand dunes! These were very pretty white sand dunes (the name rather gives it away) that spring up randomly in the middle of nowhere. Our jeep bumped on up the 'road' and we transferred to our atv sand buggies/quad bikes. New thing I learned about myself: I am terrible at driving atvs on sand. With my new motorbiking prowess and quad biking history I was sure I'd have no worries as I zipped off, but I promptly swerved all over the shop and nearly fell off in front of everybody. Lauren and Bryony were cautious Sallies as I zoomed around with Sarah and Amy. All was well for, oh, 5 minutes until we went to scale a larger dune. Sarah and Amy's buggy beached itself and I watched on and laughed as the back wheels sunk deeper and deeper into the sand. Being the Good Samaritan I am I went to find the children who were lurking about to help us ridiculous tourists when things got sticky. But I got stuck in a sand bowl. I found reverse (information I attempted to shout over to a sinking Amy) but all I did was manage to move backwards and forwards for what felt like forever. I eventually made it out but it was back the way I came so we were no better off. As the sun started to set help arrived and with more than a little help we were on the path back to base. Not our finest moment.
As we had fannied about getting marooned we were a little behind schedule so instead of arriving at the red dunes (these are red sand dunes, again, imaginatively named) in time for sunset we arrived when the sun had most definitely set. However since this was the 'sand sledging' spot we were getting out for a slide! We took a sheet of plastic (opting for one between two since we were only going for the one slide) and started the trudge up the dunes. As Bryony mounted me it became quickly apparent that two on one was not going to work, so now covered in sand we got one each and made the thoroughly underwhelming sledge down, then trudged back up and back down to our waiting jeep.
The following morning Sarah and I decided to go for a morning SUP before the wind picked up. Unfortunately it was an extra windy morning and the sea looked a little choppy so we abandoned our balancing plans and after our sand buggy success we decided to rent a jet ski. So I learned a few things about jet skis.
#1 They are much harder to operate than they seem
#2 They roll with incredible ease
#3 They would make an appalling first date ('have I got snot running down my face?)
#4 They hurt.
#5 They cause joy and terror in equal measure.
#6 You can lose your sunnies very easily
Sarah requested I drive, then asked me to be safe having seen my buggy driving. After no distance at all it was clear that we had made a mistake so we flagged one of the hire guys to drive us in...but he actually took us on one of the most terrifying, endless 15 minutes of my life. I was still at the front, Sarah clinging to my life jacket straps, me clinging to her legs (there was nothing to hold) and our death master at the back leaning over to drive the thing. It was too choppy for SUPing and definitely too choppy for jet skis. It was like being on a bucking bronco made of rock and I am nursing the bruises to prove it. He must have thought my screams of 'let's go in' we're actually 'let's not go in' as he teased us with the shore. Going back to the beach ended up being the worst part of it as he hit the throttle and went full pelt towards the beach. I didn't lose my teeth as feared but I did need a sit down afterwards.
After experiencing the open sea I decided it was also too windy for windsurfing, so we did what we did best - lay on the beach and watched the professionals. Aaaaand relax.
One last thing, Gary Sinise is living in Mui Ne disguised as lieutenant Dan in the boat bit of Forrest Gump.
The term 'sleeper' bus is extremely misleading. Instead of the standard coach seats we know and loathe the bus is decked out with two levels of pleather recliners with a box at the end for your feet. Obviously it was raining and obviously I was next to a leaky window, so that was nice. As it was about 6pm we were expecting a bit of chat but the lights were swiftly turned out so we entertained ourselves with eye-spy, I-went-shopping and other such classics. Our driver's favourite games appeared to be 'chicken' with the oncoming traffic (braking so you were rammed into the foot box) and 'beep-the-wretched-horn-as-much-as-I-can'. Our confidence in him only increased after he stopped at about 10pm to drink an entire bottle of rice wine. This being 'nam (man) there obviously a few locals crammed in for good measure and us being lucky they slept in the (very narrow) aisle right next to us. I mean he may as well have been spooning me and various limbs invaded my pleather personal space all night. The stop-start journey of no sleep and Bryony's bursting bladder (she actually fell on me at one point) continued until we were unceremoniously turfed out in Nha Trang at 5.30am...and to think we had foolishly assumed our 'direct bus to mui ne' would be direct. Still we were ejected right next to a cafe which sold coffee and pain at chocolat so there are worse places to be stranded. My bag also felt like it had been thrown in a puddle. A couple of hours later we were picked up by another bus (seats not beds) and had a wonderfully horn free, event free, multiple seats journey to Mui Ne. I wanted to hug the driver. (I say event free, we did make one stop en route to a very strange place playing pan pipe Christmas music with one of the greatest nativity scenes I've ever seen -think neon lights and dolls).
Arriving in Mui Ne was great and after RainFest 2012 it was a welcome scene - a sandy beach that stretched on for miles and SUN. It is also a kitesurfing Mecca so plenty of beach entertainment, mozzies kept at bay, a chance to go windsurfing again and a smattering of handsome men in board shorts to boot.
All this wind made me think I should at least attempt a watersport. As it had been about 6 years since I set foot on a windsurfing board I felt I should get a refresher before merrily hiring some equipment. The only option was a beginner lesson on the morning -no such thing a a refresher it turns out - but Bryony was keen to try and Katie and Dave (our scooter friends who we bump into in every town) were up for it too. So the 4 of us arrived at 8am ready for a morning of fun. An illusion that was promptly shattered the moment we met our instructor Darko the Grouch, an angry, bald Russian man with little to no people skills.
We had a land lesson (my favourite) where he barked contradictory instructions at us 'LOOKA DOWN' ...'DON'T LOOKADOWN LOOKA ME, WHY YOU LOOKADOWN?' whilst explaining the basics (which was like being taught to snow plow again). He also patted the ends of my toes to move my feet so I shrieked and I'm still not sure he knew why (donttouchmytoesihavenonails). When we finally made it into the water (we were half cooked at this point) the others believed my reassurances of 'its easier on the water' and to Darko The Grouch's credit we were all up and sailing around very quickly. Whether it was excellent instruction 'LOOKA DE ANGLE', natural talent or fear of being shouted at I'm not sure. Every time I did anything I remembered from the old days I was told to get back to the starting position and pootle along holding the mast. Lauren (still stitched at this point) was basting on the beach too afraid to congratulate us incase Darko turned on her. Still it was great fun being back out on the waterand even more fun to laugh at 'Brownie' being 'instructed'. 'BROWNIE BACK AND OPEN, NO BROWNIE FRONT AND POWER, BROWNIE JUMP IN'. He did soften a little towards the end but we didn't come back for more and left a little deafer than when we arrived.
The morning exertions had taken it out of us so we spent the remainder of the afternoon frolicking in the sea and enjoying the beach. The marvelous, sandy, sunny beach.
The only downside to the beach is that I'm up to my usual tricks and no matter how hard I try, I've brought a lot of the beach into our room so we are ALWAYS SANDY. I mean there was so much sand on my bed I might as well have been sleeping on the beach.
Another Mui Ne plus is that Sarah (who i met in Bali) was in town so I had a friend to play with in the morning. We had grand plans but they never amounted to much more than strolling along the beach and finding fruit shakes. One morning as the others slept off their red bull heads I met Sarah for breakfast and went exploring to discover a little more of the Russian town and find a jeep to take us on a sand dune adventure in the afternoon.
We started by visiting Fairy spring, a scenic walk up a stream to a fairly unremarkable waterfall, then had a micro stop at a fishing village - very picturesque boats but most definitely a place that should be seen and not smelled as we were surrounded by rotting sea crustaceans and numerous rats feasting on the various remains. We moved swiftly on.
To the white sand dunes! These were very pretty white sand dunes (the name rather gives it away) that spring up randomly in the middle of nowhere. Our jeep bumped on up the 'road' and we transferred to our atv sand buggies/quad bikes. New thing I learned about myself: I am terrible at driving atvs on sand. With my new motorbiking prowess and quad biking history I was sure I'd have no worries as I zipped off, but I promptly swerved all over the shop and nearly fell off in front of everybody. Lauren and Bryony were cautious Sallies as I zoomed around with Sarah and Amy. All was well for, oh, 5 minutes until we went to scale a larger dune. Sarah and Amy's buggy beached itself and I watched on and laughed as the back wheels sunk deeper and deeper into the sand. Being the Good Samaritan I am I went to find the children who were lurking about to help us ridiculous tourists when things got sticky. But I got stuck in a sand bowl. I found reverse (information I attempted to shout over to a sinking Amy) but all I did was manage to move backwards and forwards for what felt like forever. I eventually made it out but it was back the way I came so we were no better off. As the sun started to set help arrived and with more than a little help we were on the path back to base. Not our finest moment.
As we had fannied about getting marooned we were a little behind schedule so instead of arriving at the red dunes (these are red sand dunes, again, imaginatively named) in time for sunset we arrived when the sun had most definitely set. However since this was the 'sand sledging' spot we were getting out for a slide! We took a sheet of plastic (opting for one between two since we were only going for the one slide) and started the trudge up the dunes. As Bryony mounted me it became quickly apparent that two on one was not going to work, so now covered in sand we got one each and made the thoroughly underwhelming sledge down, then trudged back up and back down to our waiting jeep.
The following morning Sarah and I decided to go for a morning SUP before the wind picked up. Unfortunately it was an extra windy morning and the sea looked a little choppy so we abandoned our balancing plans and after our sand buggy success we decided to rent a jet ski. So I learned a few things about jet skis.
#1 They are much harder to operate than they seem
#2 They roll with incredible ease
#3 They would make an appalling first date ('have I got snot running down my face?)
#4 They hurt.
#5 They cause joy and terror in equal measure.
#6 You can lose your sunnies very easily
Sarah requested I drive, then asked me to be safe having seen my buggy driving. After no distance at all it was clear that we had made a mistake so we flagged one of the hire guys to drive us in...but he actually took us on one of the most terrifying, endless 15 minutes of my life. I was still at the front, Sarah clinging to my life jacket straps, me clinging to her legs (there was nothing to hold) and our death master at the back leaning over to drive the thing. It was too choppy for SUPing and definitely too choppy for jet skis. It was like being on a bucking bronco made of rock and I am nursing the bruises to prove it. He must have thought my screams of 'let's go in' we're actually 'let's not go in' as he teased us with the shore. Going back to the beach ended up being the worst part of it as he hit the throttle and went full pelt towards the beach. I didn't lose my teeth as feared but I did need a sit down afterwards.
After experiencing the open sea I decided it was also too windy for windsurfing, so we did what we did best - lay on the beach and watched the professionals. Aaaaand relax.
One last thing, Gary Sinise is living in Mui Ne disguised as lieutenant Dan in the boat bit of Forrest Gump.
Sunday 18 November 2012
And Then It Rained
Hoi An. Lovely town but the weather is sapping my soul. It has not not rained for about 4 hours in the last 3 days. I have reenacted all the movie rain scenes I can think of and looked into Ark plans. In a small town where tailoring is the main attraction, the majority of the roads are pedestrianised, the rain is biblical and you have a party member down one foot there is very little to do aside from sloth, eat or drink. On the plus side we have discovered that the local coffee is delicious and it is almost always happy hour somewhere for a cocktail or three.
A pick of noteworthy happenings over the last 4 days:
The loss of my second toenail:
After discovering my toe was starting to smell like Durian I investigated further and realised it was being held on by a scab. A very minor amount of movement and off it came. (As a whole this time, no snipping) and just like that 9 became 8. And no. It is no easier the second time round and no, you never get used to the appearance of a naked toe (I feel like the sheep in the Boundin' Pixar short).
The Spa-ahhhh
A spa seemed like an almost perfect rainy day activity - although anything foot related was out for two of us and a massage was out for poor scabbed up Lauren - so we went to the recommended local one. We set out in the driving rain 'just around the corner', so round the corner we stumbled and 5 minutes later passed the back exit to our hotel which was right in front of the spa, so that was a completely pointless trip. My back, shoulder and neck massage (lovely albeit a bit greasy) came with head, face and boob as a bonus (NOT RELAXING) and the three of us were all in the same room laid out like sausages ruining each others zen from time to time. My manicure basically involved cutting my nails to a third of their usual length and lacquering them in a flesh tone (so they look not unlike my nailess toes) but it was a mostly enjoyable experience (who doesn't like communal kimonos?).
The Rat
Sitting outside at dinner (momentary pause between downpours) we heard a shriek, a growl and a squeak and a dog had caught a rat and left it twitching its final few twitches right there in front of us. It was vile (the rat was almost cat sized)
Lauren and The Ants
Even in the nicest of hotel rooms one would be wise to be wary when drinking out of cans. An unattended can of sprite can quickly recruit friends. Being a fan of flat sprite Lauren checked if her lunchtime can would be ok to drink. 'Sure, go for it, you love flat sprite' chirped Harris. So she indulged in the remaining half a can. Until she felt something moving in her mouthful, glanced down at the rim and realised it was crawling with ants. She then hopped (swifter than Usain Bolt) to the bathroom and ejected the ants into the sink. We now drink from glasses.
Today (Sunday) has been far more entertaining. The rain was still there (standard) but was more of a constant spit/penetrating mist than notebook style monsoon. Nothing a poncho couldn't keep out. A lot of the bicycles here have a padded 'seat' on the back so Lauren hopped on for a trial and Ta Dah! We were mobile again. With a combination of Lauren being a most trusting and cooperative passenger and my pedal power we were well on our way (although the bike occasionally feels like it might buckle). (We have also only had one very slow motion fall when stationary). We booked some onwards sleeper bus tickets (terrified) and set off to the beach beach. I can imagine in the sun it is delightful but in the drizzle it did remind me a little of Aberdeen. Seeing as we were the only people on the beach (enjoying a hot coffee) the local beach patrol descended upon us to foist off their wares. One chap was very nice, sat and chatted to us and said how he was studying English so he could become a tour guide and that he sold his tat on days off to improve his English. The moment he realised we weren't going to buy any of his (quite frankly hideous) wrist tat he left without so much as a goodbye. Which was charming. Still it was nice to be out and about and seeing a bit more of the town safe in the knowledge that we were heading to a sunny beach the following evening.
Mui ne, we're coming! Please keep fingers and toes crossed the sleeper bus isn't the death box I think it'll be.
Thursday 15 November 2012
Hue to Hoi An: The Motor Cycle Diaries
Sitting like sardines in trains, busses, boats and (scamming) taxis is an essential 'traveling' experience but we quickly realised that the only way to have a bit of personal space was to take your own solo transport. So the obvious choice was to hire some motorbikes, book a guide and motorcycle our way down to Hoi An. As we are now experienced (ahem) bikers we were (sort of) confident that we could do it but not stupid enough to think we could do it alone. I mean we know nothing about bikes or, as we've learned from our 'nam journey so far, map reading or indeed any of the language.
Of all the places in 'nam (man) Hue (hway!) didn't really appeal and we chose it as an easy starting point for our journey, but we really liked it. It was much quieter than Hanoi and had a much nicer vibe.
We met up with our guide, Mark, in the evening to sort everything out for the next couple of days. He was the keenest, most enthusiastic and most Australian person I have ever met. He talked us through where we'd be going and said he wanted to watch us ride before he took us out. Great! Our experience was limited to almost empty island roads, not the hectic roads of a 'nam city. 'Look', Mark 'has been ridin' all his life' and he 'guaranteed' us many times that 'our safety was his number one priority' and also that 'yous going to be within the first 100 white people that have ever been in the villages' - this was 'guaranteed' too. He was extremely nice but goodness me what a talker.
So the next morning after a buffet hotel breakfast (so good it's worth a mention) we met Mark to offload our big backpacks (thank god) which were going to go down in a bus and pick up our 'scoots'. They were beauties. After double checking we weren't a danger to ourselves we set about leaving Hue (hway!) for the back roads of 'nam, man. It was a baptism of fire. It was no where near as bad as Hanoi but there were a lot of other motor vehicles, push bikes and pedestrians to avoid and to say I was a little terrified would sum it up. But soon we were off the beaten track and onto a well beaten up track, bumping and splashing our way into the mountains. One of Mark's rules was that he wouldn't take us out without long sleeves (all limbs) and closed toed shoes - joyous news given my only long bottoms were leggings and I had to encase my toes (apparently minor nail discomfort is better than no toes). Our safety was his number 1 priority you know. Well my shoes were wet and muddy after I hit my first pot hole so that was lovely. After about 20km we reached a nice, surfaced road and had a break for a drink (being watched intently by a small child all the while) - we were now on the Ho Chi Minh Highway. Driving along on Blue Steel (my scoot) with the wind in your face, cardigan billowing behind you like a superhero cape, school children excitedly waving at you, sun shining and beautiful jungle mountains all around we all experienced moments of pure joy. Until I realised that the my billowing top had billowed down to reveal my entire right breast (covered, but out of my top nonetheless). This was kindly pointed out by a school boy. Not embarrassing at all. By the time we stopped for lunch we had covered a fair amount of ground, visited the Laos border (as close as we could get without annoying the fierce man with an AK 47), narrowly avoided several dogs (they all have udders and a death wish over here), nearly crashed into a truck or two, been through and awesome tunnel and turned my face into a bug graveyard (only two but still horrific experience). We climbed on top of the tunnel (primarily for a wee but also for a photo op) and spotted a monkey. On telling Mark our wildlife spot he said it was a really rare monkey and we were probably some of the first people to see it...until we looked again and realised it was tied to the small building and was 'just a macaque'. So we didn't see a rare monkey.
On we went winding round and up and down the mountains, stopping for interesting titbits and generally feeling quite amazed at the jungle mountains surrounding us. When it started to rain we were given our 'wet weather ponchos' which are some of the most ridiculous items of clothing I've ever had to put on. Ridiculous but very practical and we stayed dry as a bone. We passed some of the original Ho Chi Minh trail but westerners are still not allowed on it so we admired from the edge.
We took a detour into a small village which was the highlight of my trip so far. We must have looked like fools pulling up in the ponchos as it was no longer raining so they were promptly removed. The children were super cute and everyone was so pleased to see us, they were so happy and friendly and interested and all our faces were starting to hurt from smiling so much. It was a bit odd as we were a massive novelty to them but the situation was a novelty to us. A couple of the younger children were a bit afraid and the grandmother wouldn't go too close to 6'4 Mark - especially after he revealed his tongue bar! They loved looking at photos of themselves and their reaction to an iPod was hilarious. It sounds a bit 'gap yah' but even though we were only standing around and smiling we could easily have stayed there all day. It was a really lovely village too, the houses were made of beautiful timber and everything looked clean and ordered (nothing like the smelly, gloomy Bali house I visited). This was another opportunity for Mark to tell us we were some of the very first white faces they'd ever seen. They didn't expect anything but we were a bit sad we hadn't bought any little gifts for them. By this point we'd been in the sun a bit and (Lauren in particular) had picked up a bit of a bikers tan (think skiing goggles and a the middle few inches of forearms). The three of us are all fairly pale with freckles and curly hair (quite the trio!) and they were particularly intrigued by Bryony's red hair and the burn lines on Lauren's arms - one woman looked quite upset by it! There was only so long we could stand around grinning so we hopped back on our bikes and waved goodbye.
There had been a landslide just down the road and plenty of large diggers were there fixing things. It was, however, still extremely muddy thanks to the recent downpour so navigating through proved to be highly entertaining - enhanced by locals returning home in the opposite direction. Now we've had our fair share of locals laughing at us on this trip but these guys were laughing in a very friendly way - I mean we must have looked comical as we waddled and slipped our way through the mud on our trusty steeds. I am pleased to report that even though I thought I'd be getting a mud bath, I made it through to the other side. Bryony on the other hand, whilst laughing at my progress, slipped and fell herself (we are allowed to laugh as she was unharmed). The laughing locals were very quick to help her up and she waddled her way over to us with a rather muddy leg.
One blind corner ridden mountain later we arrived at a government town in the middle of nowhere. We were checked into the only guesthouse there and taken to a very Vietnamese restaurant - the sort of restaurant where there is no menu, they just bring out plates of food and you keep your fingers crossed it's not pooch a la chilli sauce. (I should also point out that the tables and chairs are actually child sized - I felt like I was eating at Liss and Rory's table).
The second day started about 3 hours earlier than planned as the propaganda speakers start from just after 4.30am and people start busying themselves (including an unholy amount of hocking and grunting). We set off on day two of our biking adventure but after about 3 minutes things came to a halt. A couple of uddered dogs ran into the gravelly stretch of road, Lauren braked, skidded and tumbled off her bike (at the only stretch of road we'd seen with people on it). They ran to her immediately and were kind and helpful. Thankfully it was nothing too serious but enough to mean that anymore riding was not an option. Hands and head were spared any injuries thanks to the sensible helmets an gloves we were given but she gravel-grazed her elbow, hip, knee and sliced the top of her foot open. Ow. Many helpful comments were made such as 'you're the first white person to fall on this part if the Ho Chi Minh trail' and 'today was going to be really specky, it sucks we can't do it' (specky is apparently aussie slang for spectacular). Thankfully, being a government town there was a very well equipped hospital but minutes away. Being a Vietnamese town, however, they did not allow us to use a car for any transporting, despite a number of shiny medical 4x4s sitting around doing nothing. After the initial shock and faint/sick feelings subsided she was winched onto the back of Sal's (our mechanic) bike and whizzed round the corner for medical care. At this point Sal, small, Vietnamese Sal, carried her across the hospital threshold Officer and a Gentleman style (which was brilliant!). While she was being cleaned up and stitched (2 stitches in the foot gash) Bryony set about finding a toilet (standard). Zero English was spoken at the hospital so when 'toilet' drew blank stares from the receptionist she charaded it out which led me and ALL of the locals in the reception to laugh a lot!
We were quite the tourist attraction and whilst some paper work was filled in a lady (who actually spoke a bit of English) started taking photos of us. Then newly bandaged Lauren was asked to lie in the bed while she took photos of the doctor taking her pulse and posing with a stethoscope...apparently the first westerner through the doors of the hospital was a most excellent PR opportunity! A couple of X-rays were needed to check for any breaks (again, more photo ops). As she was being returned to the treatment room the doctor rolled the wheelchair OVER BOTH MY BIG TOES. Bryony attempted to help/offer helpful words but couldn't stand up straight due to her laughter. I was momentarily paralysed by the hideous feeling of a hot bruising feeling in the still-nailed toe and the sensation of the slither left on the other foot now pressing into the stump. I think it was karma for just thinking that someone else had taken my foot-bad-luck. I did my best not to make a scene.
Mark had organised a car to take us to Hoi An - 4 seats between 3 of us! Luxury! Short lived luxury mind you as the windy mountain roads that were a pleasure on Blue Steel were quite simply horrendous in a car. 4 long hours later we arrived. We booked into a non backpacker hotel so our wounded soldier could recover somewhere other than a dorm. We met up with Mark and His wife Leanne that evening and they took us for an authentic Vietnamese BBQ which was very tasty. We proceeded to numb Lauren's pain with beer and rice wine which the locals joined us in (again on the child chairs).
Everyone says you need to motorbike off the traveller trail to 'see real vietnam' and I've always thought they sounded really cliched and gap yah but I take it all back. Even though we were on a fairly guided tour, you really don't see any other tourists and you really do get to see what the country is really like. It has completely changed my opinion on both 'nam and the 'nam people - real, non city dwelling Vietnamese are some of the nicest people I've come across on my travels so far. The country itself is amazing, too - I am now loving 'nam, man. Now if someone could just turn the rain off and stop the incessant beeping...
Of all the places in 'nam (man) Hue (hway!) didn't really appeal and we chose it as an easy starting point for our journey, but we really liked it. It was much quieter than Hanoi and had a much nicer vibe.
We met up with our guide, Mark, in the evening to sort everything out for the next couple of days. He was the keenest, most enthusiastic and most Australian person I have ever met. He talked us through where we'd be going and said he wanted to watch us ride before he took us out. Great! Our experience was limited to almost empty island roads, not the hectic roads of a 'nam city. 'Look', Mark 'has been ridin' all his life' and he 'guaranteed' us many times that 'our safety was his number one priority' and also that 'yous going to be within the first 100 white people that have ever been in the villages' - this was 'guaranteed' too. He was extremely nice but goodness me what a talker.
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| Picking up the 'Scoots' |
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| muddy |
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| Tunnel |
We took a detour into a small village which was the highlight of my trip so far. We must have looked like fools pulling up in the ponchos as it was no longer raining so they were promptly removed. The children were super cute and everyone was so pleased to see us, they were so happy and friendly and interested and all our faces were starting to hurt from smiling so much. It was a bit odd as we were a massive novelty to them but the situation was a novelty to us. A couple of the younger children were a bit afraid and the grandmother wouldn't go too close to 6'4 Mark - especially after he revealed his tongue bar! They loved looking at photos of themselves and their reaction to an iPod was hilarious. It sounds a bit 'gap yah' but even though we were only standing around and smiling we could easily have stayed there all day. It was a really lovely village too, the houses were made of beautiful timber and everything looked clean and ordered (nothing like the smelly, gloomy Bali house I visited). This was another opportunity for Mark to tell us we were some of the very first white faces they'd ever seen. They didn't expect anything but we were a bit sad we hadn't bought any little gifts for them. By this point we'd been in the sun a bit and (Lauren in particular) had picked up a bit of a bikers tan (think skiing goggles and a the middle few inches of forearms). The three of us are all fairly pale with freckles and curly hair (quite the trio!) and they were particularly intrigued by Bryony's red hair and the burn lines on Lauren's arms - one woman looked quite upset by it! There was only so long we could stand around grinning so we hopped back on our bikes and waved goodbye.
There had been a landslide just down the road and plenty of large diggers were there fixing things. It was, however, still extremely muddy thanks to the recent downpour so navigating through proved to be highly entertaining - enhanced by locals returning home in the opposite direction. Now we've had our fair share of locals laughing at us on this trip but these guys were laughing in a very friendly way - I mean we must have looked comical as we waddled and slipped our way through the mud on our trusty steeds. I am pleased to report that even though I thought I'd be getting a mud bath, I made it through to the other side. Bryony on the other hand, whilst laughing at my progress, slipped and fell herself (we are allowed to laugh as she was unharmed). The laughing locals were very quick to help her up and she waddled her way over to us with a rather muddy leg.
One blind corner ridden mountain later we arrived at a government town in the middle of nowhere. We were checked into the only guesthouse there and taken to a very Vietnamese restaurant - the sort of restaurant where there is no menu, they just bring out plates of food and you keep your fingers crossed it's not pooch a la chilli sauce. (I should also point out that the tables and chairs are actually child sized - I felt like I was eating at Liss and Rory's table).
The second day started about 3 hours earlier than planned as the propaganda speakers start from just after 4.30am and people start busying themselves (including an unholy amount of hocking and grunting). We set off on day two of our biking adventure but after about 3 minutes things came to a halt. A couple of uddered dogs ran into the gravelly stretch of road, Lauren braked, skidded and tumbled off her bike (at the only stretch of road we'd seen with people on it). They ran to her immediately and were kind and helpful. Thankfully it was nothing too serious but enough to mean that anymore riding was not an option. Hands and head were spared any injuries thanks to the sensible helmets an gloves we were given but she gravel-grazed her elbow, hip, knee and sliced the top of her foot open. Ow. Many helpful comments were made such as 'you're the first white person to fall on this part if the Ho Chi Minh trail' and 'today was going to be really specky, it sucks we can't do it' (specky is apparently aussie slang for spectacular). Thankfully, being a government town there was a very well equipped hospital but minutes away. Being a Vietnamese town, however, they did not allow us to use a car for any transporting, despite a number of shiny medical 4x4s sitting around doing nothing. After the initial shock and faint/sick feelings subsided she was winched onto the back of Sal's (our mechanic) bike and whizzed round the corner for medical care. At this point Sal, small, Vietnamese Sal, carried her across the hospital threshold Officer and a Gentleman style (which was brilliant!). While she was being cleaned up and stitched (2 stitches in the foot gash) Bryony set about finding a toilet (standard). Zero English was spoken at the hospital so when 'toilet' drew blank stares from the receptionist she charaded it out which led me and ALL of the locals in the reception to laugh a lot!
We were quite the tourist attraction and whilst some paper work was filled in a lady (who actually spoke a bit of English) started taking photos of us. Then newly bandaged Lauren was asked to lie in the bed while she took photos of the doctor taking her pulse and posing with a stethoscope...apparently the first westerner through the doors of the hospital was a most excellent PR opportunity! A couple of X-rays were needed to check for any breaks (again, more photo ops). As she was being returned to the treatment room the doctor rolled the wheelchair OVER BOTH MY BIG TOES. Bryony attempted to help/offer helpful words but couldn't stand up straight due to her laughter. I was momentarily paralysed by the hideous feeling of a hot bruising feeling in the still-nailed toe and the sensation of the slither left on the other foot now pressing into the stump. I think it was karma for just thinking that someone else had taken my foot-bad-luck. I did my best not to make a scene.
Mark had organised a car to take us to Hoi An - 4 seats between 3 of us! Luxury! Short lived luxury mind you as the windy mountain roads that were a pleasure on Blue Steel were quite simply horrendous in a car. 4 long hours later we arrived. We booked into a non backpacker hotel so our wounded soldier could recover somewhere other than a dorm. We met up with Mark and His wife Leanne that evening and they took us for an authentic Vietnamese BBQ which was very tasty. We proceeded to numb Lauren's pain with beer and rice wine which the locals joined us in (again on the child chairs).
Everyone says you need to motorbike off the traveller trail to 'see real vietnam' and I've always thought they sounded really cliched and gap yah but I take it all back. Even though we were on a fairly guided tour, you really don't see any other tourists and you really do get to see what the country is really like. It has completely changed my opinion on both 'nam and the 'nam people - real, non city dwelling Vietnamese are some of the nicest people I've come across on my travels so far. The country itself is amazing, too - I am now loving 'nam, man. Now if someone could just turn the rain off and stop the incessant beeping...
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| another wee adventure |
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| biker tan! |
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| The Ponchos - Stylin' |
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| All clean and bandaged! |
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| Another photo op for the hospital |
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| Blue Steel |
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| Rice Wine and Beers |
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| This was after it got a bit chilly and we look good |
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| The amazing local children |
Monday 12 November 2012
Caves, Chickens and More Cramped Travelling
Well. The sleeper train was quite the experience. After the nearly-missing-the-bus incident we made sure to get to the right train station in plenty of time. Our taxi this time was a chevrolet swift - possibly the only car smaller than a kia picante but we are pretty used to a snug journey these days. It was a lovely place to spend an hour - sweaty, busy and full of people staring at us (and we were sitting next to a man with a lot of pig feed). We had booked our tickets to stay in a four person cabin and keeping our fingers crossed we weren't joined by anyone too strange/anyone at all. That illusion lasted until we got in the train and tried to work out which six person cabin we were in. Not the same one as it turns out. We sat in the same one foolishly thinking it wouldn't be full, but this is 'nam (man) and a favourite pastime seems to be ramming people into small spaces like battery hens. Bryony and Lauren drew the short straw and although together were in a cabin with two families. Two men, two women and two children. I know what you're thinking, you've counted 6 already. But what's another two people in such spacious accommodation? I was in a room with two couples (one European, the girl of which was far from happy) and a Vietnamese lurch look alike. I'm not sure why but the people of 'nam love to hock/grunt and it is rancid. (The guys also have hideously long nails but apparently this is a status thing to show you don't have to work with your hands). As far as room mates go they were fine, but I wouldn't say we were fresh and well rested by the time we arrived in Dong Hoi. And don't even ask about the toilet (or the man I walked in on at 3.30am).
Thankfully our transfer to the Farm Stay was an absolute breeze: we left the station and a man with a 4x4 (that actually felt safe) and a sign was there to meet us and ferry us there. Novel!
Toenail Update: (consider yourself warned before reading this next bit)
We arrived, chowed down breakfast and checked into the dorm where I felt strong enough to tend to my feet. Armed with my nail scissors and Lauren's manicure kit I set about attempting to trim/file whilst muttering 'I'm a surgeons daughter' under my breath when things made me feel faint (one really shouldn't ever have to cut the bottom of one's toenail). One of the guys running it had spotted my rank toes and just after I had made them look almost normal and strapped them into place he arrived with a Vietnamese lady who happened to be a nurse. She removed my carefully applied tape, said 'OH', ferreted about in my first aid kit and started snipping. No chat, no nothing. Just straight in there. Obviously I couldn't look but Lauren's face, Bryony's gasps and the sound of the scissors gave me a pretty good idea of what was going on down there. And just like that my toenail was gone. Gone! 10 had become 9. She swabbed with iodine, covered it up and was on her way leaving me in a small state of shock. I'm doing my best not to think about the nailess stump that is now my big toe.
Anyhoo we had a lovely day in the rural countryside (including a rare spot of sun) and spent our Saturday evening drinking tea, eating peanut m&ms and playing scrabble...and were still the last ones to bed. Rock and Roll.
Phong Nha Ke Bang is a national park in central 'nam with huge limestone karsts and is known for its amazing caves. We visited a selection of them and thanks to our informative guides we learned a lot about how the caves were formed (very pure limestone eroded away by water) and how the area was used during the war. It was all very interesting and has sparked an interest in the war which is good considering there is more to do the further down we go (saying that I still have no idea why America and 'nam were at war but my friend google will hopefully help). It was also really fun learning about sink holes and how they're trying to find out where they come from. There is one that always rises 4 days after it rains in Laos so they think it's fed from a cave there. It was also odd being on a touristy tour, but being the only westerners there. It felt very quiet and we are in a lot of local's photographs! We saw a selection of caves - the 8 ladies cave (v. sad back story involving 8 people being stuck in a cave), paradise cave (which is huge and pretty (and up a lot of steps)) and the dark cave (more on that in a moment). After lunch we were taken to a river, led over some very precarious bamboo bridges and rocks to a lovely (and COLD) spot for swimming and chilling (quite literally) We then headed to another river spot where we were given headtorches (fetching and smelled like badger) hopped into kayaks (unexpected) and paddled to another cave (doubly unexpected). All 3 of us hopped in, with two half paddles (Lauren lording it up in the middle with a 'sore wrist'). After about 5 full revolutions we put the paddles together and I paddled us to catch up with the others (Bryony and I were not a winning team). They took us to a cave, which we walked into an promptly started swimming through. Before long it was ever so dark and we were floating into the unknown (bats and all). We hit a point where we couldn't go any further (well not in bare feet and a life jacket) and all turned our torches off and this is when our guide chose to tell us about the cave's wildlife. I can confirm that there is nothing quite like the feel of gravel on top of your newly naked toe. Ugh. On the kayak back we couldn't break our circular trajectory (poor team work and a small kayak) and were toed back in by a canoe. Excellent. Apparently that kayak trip broke up a couple once - when they got back to the farm they got on buses in the opposite directions.
We had an early start this morning to catch the public bus to Hue. As is fast becoming standard this was a far from pleasant experience! The mini'bus' arrived shortly after 5 and was completely empty but we were ordered into the back row (we'd picked up Australian Patrick so we were 4 at this point). So far, ok. 4 of us in 4 small seats. The driver had thoughtfully left the lights on and the windows open so the biting life was there like a welcoming committee for us and proceeded to feast on any exposed skin. The next pick up more people farmed in an there was much rummaging going in behind us. We turned round to see that they were putting a motor bike in the boot. Yes, a motor bike in the back of a minivan. Why not? We were distracted from the fact our bags were on the road in the rain by our chair backs being thrust forward leaving us sitting at a very strange angle. It was then we realised the plastic bag on the bike was flapping and clucking. A live chicken, in a plastic bag, on a motorbike, in the boot of a minibus. How on earth do you even get a live chicken in a plastic bag? Our bags were then rammed back in and as Lauren's was thrown in top of the bike the chicken bag became very silent.(I should mention it was centimeters from our seats, we were practically sitting on top of it. On we went, picking up more people along the way. As the only white faces we were quite the focal point and I think it's safe to say we were almost definitely being laughed at. The driver also mentioned that yes there were 4 seats but in Vietnam that means 5 people. Which I imagine is fine if you are Vietnamese sized. Again, the seat to seat length was exactly the same as my thigh length so it was a very cosy journey indeed. For 5 hours. 5 HOURS jammed into a very small space knowing there was a chicken corpse right there. I should also mention there was also no suspension so it was ever so bumpy. However, just when it seemed it would never end we were ejected in Hue (pronounced like a combination of Juan and Wahey) and as luck would have it we were but meters away from our Hotel. Every cloud and all that.
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| Not in view: another two bunks |
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| Roomy - you couldn't sit up straight |
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| This is genuine joy - 2 seconds earlier all the power had gone off |
Thankfully our transfer to the Farm Stay was an absolute breeze: we left the station and a man with a 4x4 (that actually felt safe) and a sign was there to meet us and ferry us there. Novel!
Toenail Update: (consider yourself warned before reading this next bit)
We arrived, chowed down breakfast and checked into the dorm where I felt strong enough to tend to my feet. Armed with my nail scissors and Lauren's manicure kit I set about attempting to trim/file whilst muttering 'I'm a surgeons daughter' under my breath when things made me feel faint (one really shouldn't ever have to cut the bottom of one's toenail). One of the guys running it had spotted my rank toes and just after I had made them look almost normal and strapped them into place he arrived with a Vietnamese lady who happened to be a nurse. She removed my carefully applied tape, said 'OH', ferreted about in my first aid kit and started snipping. No chat, no nothing. Just straight in there. Obviously I couldn't look but Lauren's face, Bryony's gasps and the sound of the scissors gave me a pretty good idea of what was going on down there. And just like that my toenail was gone. Gone! 10 had become 9. She swabbed with iodine, covered it up and was on her way leaving me in a small state of shock. I'm doing my best not to think about the nailess stump that is now my big toe.
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| Taking a break from toenail tending (they were still both there at this point) |
Anyhoo we had a lovely day in the rural countryside (including a rare spot of sun) and spent our Saturday evening drinking tea, eating peanut m&ms and playing scrabble...and were still the last ones to bed. Rock and Roll.
Phong Nha Ke Bang is a national park in central 'nam with huge limestone karsts and is known for its amazing caves. We visited a selection of them and thanks to our informative guides we learned a lot about how the caves were formed (very pure limestone eroded away by water) and how the area was used during the war. It was all very interesting and has sparked an interest in the war which is good considering there is more to do the further down we go (saying that I still have no idea why America and 'nam were at war but my friend google will hopefully help). It was also really fun learning about sink holes and how they're trying to find out where they come from. There is one that always rises 4 days after it rains in Laos so they think it's fed from a cave there. It was also odd being on a touristy tour, but being the only westerners there. It felt very quiet and we are in a lot of local's photographs! We saw a selection of caves - the 8 ladies cave (v. sad back story involving 8 people being stuck in a cave), paradise cave (which is huge and pretty (and up a lot of steps)) and the dark cave (more on that in a moment). After lunch we were taken to a river, led over some very precarious bamboo bridges and rocks to a lovely (and COLD) spot for swimming and chilling (quite literally) We then headed to another river spot where we were given headtorches (fetching and smelled like badger) hopped into kayaks (unexpected) and paddled to another cave (doubly unexpected). All 3 of us hopped in, with two half paddles (Lauren lording it up in the middle with a 'sore wrist'). After about 5 full revolutions we put the paddles together and I paddled us to catch up with the others (Bryony and I were not a winning team). They took us to a cave, which we walked into an promptly started swimming through. Before long it was ever so dark and we were floating into the unknown (bats and all). We hit a point where we couldn't go any further (well not in bare feet and a life jacket) and all turned our torches off and this is when our guide chose to tell us about the cave's wildlife. I can confirm that there is nothing quite like the feel of gravel on top of your newly naked toe. Ugh. On the kayak back we couldn't break our circular trajectory (poor team work and a small kayak) and were toed back in by a canoe. Excellent. Apparently that kayak trip broke up a couple once - when they got back to the farm they got on buses in the opposite directions.
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| There's a story about rockets being launched at this wall and people hiding in tunnels but I can't remember exact details |
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| The jurrasic park-esque golf cart up to the cave steps |
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| A very small portion of Paradise Cave |
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| The River we Swam in |
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| swimming in the lake (including flattering waterlines) |
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| Lauren personifying beauty and grace (we did have to go under the water at this point) |
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| intrepid |
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| Shortly before the rescue |
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| excellent framing |
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| our rescue team |
We had an early start this morning to catch the public bus to Hue. As is fast becoming standard this was a far from pleasant experience! The mini'bus' arrived shortly after 5 and was completely empty but we were ordered into the back row (we'd picked up Australian Patrick so we were 4 at this point). So far, ok. 4 of us in 4 small seats. The driver had thoughtfully left the lights on and the windows open so the biting life was there like a welcoming committee for us and proceeded to feast on any exposed skin. The next pick up more people farmed in an there was much rummaging going in behind us. We turned round to see that they were putting a motor bike in the boot. Yes, a motor bike in the back of a minivan. Why not? We were distracted from the fact our bags were on the road in the rain by our chair backs being thrust forward leaving us sitting at a very strange angle. It was then we realised the plastic bag on the bike was flapping and clucking. A live chicken, in a plastic bag, on a motorbike, in the boot of a minibus. How on earth do you even get a live chicken in a plastic bag? Our bags were then rammed back in and as Lauren's was thrown in top of the bike the chicken bag became very silent.(I should mention it was centimeters from our seats, we were practically sitting on top of it. On we went, picking up more people along the way. As the only white faces we were quite the focal point and I think it's safe to say we were almost definitely being laughed at. The driver also mentioned that yes there were 4 seats but in Vietnam that means 5 people. Which I imagine is fine if you are Vietnamese sized. Again, the seat to seat length was exactly the same as my thigh length so it was a very cosy journey indeed. For 5 hours. 5 HOURS jammed into a very small space knowing there was a chicken corpse right there. I should also mention there was also no suspension so it was ever so bumpy. However, just when it seemed it would never end we were ejected in Hue (pronounced like a combination of Juan and Wahey) and as luck would have it we were but meters away from our Hotel. Every cloud and all that.
Friday 9 November 2012
Another day, Another questionable driving experience
Another day, another questionable driving experience. We left Cat Ba to head back to Hanoi before moving down the coast. The bus to the ferry was relatively pain free with two exceptions: 1. The 'nam man who crammed in next to/on top of me and proceeded to (attempt to) top up his phone DIRECTLY IN MY EAR. Vietnamese numbers sound absolutely ridiculous and he made many, many attempts. It started off being funny... And 2. About 3 minutes before we reached the boat there was a very loud bang and one of our tyres had burst (there were two on each corner so we made it to the port just about).
The boat was also rammed and it started to rain very hard but other than that nothing to report.
Then a mini bus greeted us at the other side to take us to our bigger transport bus. If you've ever wondered how many people you can fit in a 23 seater mini bus, in 'nam, man, it's 41 (plus luggage). A very snug journey indeed. The length between seats was the exact length of my femur so I was very firmly wedged. Good news is that the driver adapted his driving to the fully loaded vehicle. We didn't come to a shuddering stop in the middle of a junction for a full 3 minutes, or bunny hop onto, then promptly stall on a dual carriage way or feel unsafe at anytime. The '15 minute' (at least half an hour) journey to our main bus was quite the scenario but I'm happy to report the onward journey was issue free (and I'm even starting to block out the constant beeping of horns).
We avoided the swarming taxi men (again, these scammers have rigged meters so you have to go to one of the side streets to hail one) And made our way to the train office to pick up our pre booked tickets where we were politely told to wait 5 minutes. 45 minutes later the man with our tickets finally arrived - we had been entertained in the interim by the lady showing us beach photos of where we had just come from. I can confirm that we saw nothing that looked anything like the photos in her book.
We trudged the streets to find Joma (as we now have vague bearings of the city just in time to leave) and had a very successful journey. For the last month Bryony has been looking for postcards that aren't of toothless women with fish, a notebook and sunglasses that don't swamp her face. All three were found in the 15minute stroll and as a happy bonus the notebook was bought from the nicest local we've met since being here and was for a deaf charity. We are now settled in a delightful bakery cafe drinking real tea, with real milk (saving any 'there's sugar in my tea-no there's not- oh it's condensed milk' situations) waiting to get on the sleeper train in a couple of hours bound for Dong Hoi. I can only hope it poses less avenues for disaster than wheeled transport but I've come to the conclusion that nothing really goes to plan in 'nam, man.
The boat was also rammed and it started to rain very hard but other than that nothing to report.
Then a mini bus greeted us at the other side to take us to our bigger transport bus. If you've ever wondered how many people you can fit in a 23 seater mini bus, in 'nam, man, it's 41 (plus luggage). A very snug journey indeed. The length between seats was the exact length of my femur so I was very firmly wedged. Good news is that the driver adapted his driving to the fully loaded vehicle. We didn't come to a shuddering stop in the middle of a junction for a full 3 minutes, or bunny hop onto, then promptly stall on a dual carriage way or feel unsafe at anytime. The '15 minute' (at least half an hour) journey to our main bus was quite the scenario but I'm happy to report the onward journey was issue free (and I'm even starting to block out the constant beeping of horns).
We avoided the swarming taxi men (again, these scammers have rigged meters so you have to go to one of the side streets to hail one) And made our way to the train office to pick up our pre booked tickets where we were politely told to wait 5 minutes. 45 minutes later the man with our tickets finally arrived - we had been entertained in the interim by the lady showing us beach photos of where we had just come from. I can confirm that we saw nothing that looked anything like the photos in her book.
We trudged the streets to find Joma (as we now have vague bearings of the city just in time to leave) and had a very successful journey. For the last month Bryony has been looking for postcards that aren't of toothless women with fish, a notebook and sunglasses that don't swamp her face. All three were found in the 15minute stroll and as a happy bonus the notebook was bought from the nicest local we've met since being here and was for a deaf charity. We are now settled in a delightful bakery cafe drinking real tea, with real milk (saving any 'there's sugar in my tea-no there's not- oh it's condensed milk' situations) waiting to get on the sleeper train in a couple of hours bound for Dong Hoi. I can only hope it poses less avenues for disaster than wheeled transport but I've come to the conclusion that nothing really goes to plan in 'nam, man.
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