E-I-E-I-O

Day 1

Good news! I narrowly avoided freezing to death! Unfortunately I cannot say the same for Peach (one of the kids) or the puppies (10 puppies were born the day I arrived). All but one of them died overnight so we woke up to a very sad Rose the dog. We wanted to bring them inside but as a working dog we were told to leave her outside.

I was expecting to be up at dawn so 830 start seemed very leisurely indeed.  After a cup of tea and the grim death discoveries we set about with task number one - feeding time!

There are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than bottle feeding baby goats. They are all named but for the most part I can't quite work out how they are being told apart. Perhaps it's something that'll come to me in this goat...whatever it is. Once the little kiddies tummies were full (you literally squeeze them to see how full they are) it was time for task two - Fence Patrol. Goats are cheeky and sneaky clever buggers who are able to hop fences with ease. Farmer Chris is currently growing out the 'other paddock' so it is a decadent feast for his many goats. The goats can see that the grass is greener on the other side an once one makes the leap others will surely follow. We took Billy the asbo dog (as yet untrained working dog) with us on my first walk around the property.  I had attempted to find suitable footwear before leaving Sydney but apparently girls don't wear work boots, they only wear wellies that are short and purple. I was informed by farmer Chris that I 'could sort that here'. Well I hadn't exactly seen any sort of shop in the last hour of our journey so I have been given a grotty pair of million-hand boots. They are a little (4sizes) too big and not exactly (or even slightly) waterproof, but they're well walked in an they're not flip flops so they are doing the job. Again, task two wasn't a bad task for a Sunday morning given that it was essentially a country side stroll around some fields.  

We herded the escaped goats (I can't quite bring myself to shout HOY HOY HOY HUT HUT HUT like the other two yet because it is ridiculous) who were surprisingly compliant and helped a few who had their heads caught in fences. We spotted a nanny and her kid (that's mummy and baby to those not in the goat know) out of the paddock so herded them in. The kid was supposed to follow. Instead Billy the asbo dog grabbed little kid around the abdomen: cue screaming from the kid, the nanny and me. The other two attempted to restrain Billy and I was instructed to put my hand into the dogs mouth (yes, the dog that had attacked the baby goat) so he dropped it.  No skin was broken so I popped the traumatised kid over the fence and off they trotted. 

Back to the house for a quick cuppa then back out to check the fences. When we got back Farmer Chris was there with lady friend Ayrlie (I can't work out if it's Ellie, Ally or Airlie as there are quite a few accents here). I smiled and said hello. Chris pointed at a log he had just chainsawed...I guessed I was supposed to fetch it. No words. I introduced myself to Ayrlie who could not have been less interested so I busied myself fetching the firewood whilst avoiding 3 (THREE) redbacks. 

The good news was that one puppy was still alive, so rose was taken inside to the fire where Charlie was attempting to revive a kid. There was a moment that will stay with me for a while. Charlie was taking a dead kid outside, ayrlie stopped her...

'its dead' said charlie

At which point Ayrlie took the goat and placed its entire snotty, sh@*ty snout in her mouth and blew. Then held the goat to her ear and pronounced it dead. They are cute but mouth to mouth? No. Just no.

Fresh from the goat snog Ayrlie, Kaye-Marie and I were off to start the burning pile. Oh goody. This involved finding a rancid pair of gloves and hauling the dead goats onto the trailer. They were mostly kids at varying stages of decay but there was a billy too. We then drove over to the burning area, a scorched bit of the field that smells HORRENDOUS. We had a few other dead goats around and I was told to go and fetch one that was quite far under a tree/thorny bush. I had no idea what to do so I asked. 'Pick it up like you would a dead rabbit'.

'I've never picked up a dead rabbit'

'Really?'

'I grew up in the suburbs. I am urban'

'Back legs'

Right. I was very much breathing through my mouth and attempting not to squeal like the girl I am. I managed and also helped move the others onto the pile. Next we needed to pile up the wood. It was a fun game of 'stick or bone' as I searched for kindling. Occasionally the 'stick' had a joint. Cue fun fact - 'Bone needs to be 800 degrees to burn. If you ever want to get rid of a body then feed it to pigs'. I mean we hadn't asked. This information was completely volunteered and comforting to hear whilst in the middle of NOWHERE. I stood well back and up wind when I realised unleaded petrol was being used to start the fire. That and the smell of rotting goat and sh*t was catching the back of my throat. 

Back at the 'house' Farmer Chris was on top form asking where the heaters were, why were we using heaters when there was a fire? (There were no logs last night). Where is the black heater? In the bedroom with the electric blankets? Passive aggressive much? My ears did prick up at 'electric blanket' though so I went to find one! He left without so much as a hello, goodbye or 'how's your first day going?'. I hear this isn't uncommon and that I have got more out of him in the van than anyone else has so far. 

Aside from bottle feeding babies, herding escapees, burning carcasses, chasing eagles away and freeing clumsy/sad goats, other notable things about my new digs:

It is a shack of a house far from civilisation. You know water butts you get in gardens? The ones you collect rainwater in to water the plants? The ones that gutters lead to? Well that's where our drinking water comes from - a water butt over at another house on the farm (inhabitant currently jailed for growing and selling weed in the piggery). The water from our taps? That comes from a tank outside. A tank that we have to fill up from a smaller container that we have to take to the Murray river, fill it, then empty into the tank. I have yet to have the pleasure of that task. At the moment we have running water but it is the temperature of an alpine stream in December. The boiler leaks so 2mins only for a shower, if there is enough water in the first place. I haven't washed yet. The bathroom? Fit for washing goats. The toilet? Outside with spiders. 

The people: 2 northern girls, Kaye Marie, 20 and Charlie, 26 (who is counting down her last two days).   

Today's Nugget of Joy: They think the woman who went missing in the village next door was fed to pigs on the way to slaughter

The New Adventures of Farm Girl

So as I sat in Sydney airport waiting for my flight to a city I hadn't been to, waiting for a man I had never met to pick me up and waiting to drive with this stranger  for 4 hours into the outback and far, far away from civilisation  I decided that for the duration of my wretched regional work I would resurrect the blog to keep sane and keep an e-trail on my whereabouts. I mean I have seen wolf creek.

So aside from a minor delay and questionable neighbour in jazzy blue satin shirt my flight was uneventful. Farmer Chris (who was engaging...almost funny...over text and our phonecall) seemed pleasant enough. My backpack was put into the back of a refrigerated van next to a bit of dead pig (which was shortly moved to another van (owned nice, friendly farmer friend Jimmy). Conversation didn't exactly flow. After an hour or so I was beginning to regret not taking Caroline's suggestion of a list of small talk topics (aside: Caroline took a photo of me as I left and bid me farewell with 'please don't let me be the last person to see you'). Chris really was a man of few to no words but ran a very hot car so I was at least warm. Anyhoo hours passed, the sun set and about three hours in the radio was turned on. Questions such as 'so why did you choose goats?' Were answered with 'goats chose me'. Right, moving on then! It was like blood from a stone. We stopped in the nearest town which was hopping. It had a bowling alley! Ahem. We went to aldi where he loaded a trolley with cheap meat and full cream uht milk. Yummy. Then continued our journey into the darkness - he actually volunteered information about the river here! About an hour later we arrived at the farm. I felt foolish in a pale jumper and flip flops, more so as I stepped out into a very muddy puddle (I see a new pair in my future). The thing that struck my most on opening the door was the overwhelming aroma of goat. The goats were everywhere.

Rather than sort of repeat myself I will actually repeat myself: this sums up arrival! 

So I thought I'd update you from my new gaff. Left a gloriously sunny sydney, was met by farmer Chris who, whilst perfectly nice, will not be winning any awards for small talk. Or indeed talk. I'm reliably informed by my fellow co workers that I have had more conversation with him than they have in months. Anyhoo, I digress.

 So farmer chris and I drove in his refrigerated van for 4 hours. 4 hours away from civilisation. I have never been further away from anything before. I am literally in the middle of nowhere. Nearest town is 1hr away...it has a bowling alley. We did stop at an aldi where Chris bought us chicken wings and full cream uht milk.

 It is muddy here - flip flops were a poor travelling shoe. There are goats everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Everything smells of goat. A baby goat died in the 'living room' this evening. Tomorrow morning first job is to sweep the paddock for abandoned kids. Save what can be saved, burn what has already croaked it. Whilst being followed by goats. The goats that are everywhere. My fellow farm workers are two northern girls. One finishes in 3 days and she looks ready to run for the hills. The other is a peppy 20year old who is only a month in. They both look greasy because 'water is precious'. So precious that we have already run out of it. 

The toilet is outside and full of goats. It is also not flushing because there is no water. The water isn't drinkable either because it is rain water. I will be showering in rain water.

 I am currently in my bed, wearing a lot of clothes and under a duvet with no sheet. It is freezing. I am wearing a hat. 

There is no Internet but my phone does work so that's a plus! Another plus is that I am finding the whole situation rather hilarious so far, but I did shower this morning and my sleeping clothes smell delightfully of fabric conditioner. I don't think this will last. The goats are peering in at my window. And bleating. They are everywhere.

 3 months is sure to fly by... 

I've really grown as a person...(I thought I posted this a while ago)

Arriving in Sydney signals the end of my blog I think. I'm unlikely to share a bus with a dead (was it?) chicken, find a rat in my room or argue with locals and I can't imagine there will be too much interest in my day to day life as I'll find it tricky not to be smug as I head to the beach. Three months is not a long time to be away but it is long enough to have learned some life lessons, a bit about asia and a small amount of personal discovery.

Things I have learned:

Personal grooming is a public activity. It's a pleasure to see people cutting their toenails in the street (usually during a meal), shaving on the pavement (or motorbike), mining for gold (one chap went so far up he had to open his mouth and tilt his head)

Pajamas are entirely acceptable day wear

You can fit at least double the number of people than you think in any given mode of transport

Always cover everything when on a bike (skin vs Tarmac has only one winner)

Do not attempt to squeeze into small spaces

Traffic lights and road rules are null and void

Day to day people don't stand on each others feet. The minute you lose a nail people (cough Bryony) will stand on your toes daily

Pavements are a token gesture (and an advert for claims direct)

If anyone offers to thread your legs, say no.

Waterproof cameras are not waterproof and have no longevity.

All forms of public transport are horrible.

Most city dwellers are angry.

There is nothing that can't be transported by bike (including a fridge).

There is rarely a time when a cup of tea isn't appropriate.

Wetrooms are rank (I already knew this).

Your bowels will let you down only at the most inopportune moments.

There is no place like home.


Things I have learned about me:

I am not good at driving anything other than the corsa

I am not a city traveller. The beach is my domain as I will not stray far from her

I will never climb a volcano again.

I am more attached to my toenails than I thought

I like the idea of a manicure. I never like the result.

I will never be a deep, European tan. But I also don't burn as easily as you all think.

I either don't wash my hair enough or I am very sparing with shampoo. 3 months on a 100ml travel bottle. So proud.

I am a terrible, terrible haggler.


Things I have lost:
Phone
Sunnies x2
Debit card
Towel
Both big toenails (the saddest)
A fair amount of dignity
No weight
Countless hair bands
A towel
All my pens
2 cameras (technically just broken, not lost)

Oh, and most importantly, always WEAR SUNSCREEN. My bazzing days are behind me.

So long, farewell Asia. You've been great but forgive me if I don't rush back..

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.