Vietnam at high velocity!

So, the land of conical hats (yes, they are worn, seriously...but don't look quite so appealing on the chubby faces of tourists who obviously find the ribbon craddling their chin(s) a little on the tight side), of war, oppression, haggling, taylors, lanterns and, yes, snakes. For eating, that is. First (intended stop), Hoi An. A beautifully quaint and picturesque (UNESCO hertiage) town, harking back the the French colonial era, with quiet streets, wooden facades and exuding history and style. AND, there are plenty of tailors on hand to whip you up a made-to-measure outfit in a couple of days, and even footwear if you so require! However, before we could embark on a mad clothing stitch-up, we were told by a nice Aussie lady to 'get some footwear' (She also made excellent 'fresh spring rolls!'), as neither of us were sporting flip-flops for Laos seemed to have devoured them somewhere along the way. And, the invalid was hobbling about with her fat foot post-rafting trauma, so we must have looked a sight. And the elephant foot was not reduing in size, so reluctantly, we ventured off to the local hospital to be inevitably ripped off, given things that were probably not needed and - the main objective - to obtain crutches. Yes, we had x-rays ($25, per shot), managed to duck the need for an ultra-sound (nope, no babies in THAT ankle!) and acquired a pair of fetching crutches. Grand total - $95. Thank goodness for travel insurance. Then good to go on the new clothes front!! Hurrah! Flipping through Vogue, the perfect winter coat revealed itself in the form of a Cavalli advert, yet mine was to be a beautiful blue wool mix with hot-pink lining inside to reflect the kooky puff sleeves! YUMMY! And a slinky, satin, royal blue blouse with neck tie, and a little chocloate silk dress with cream sash for me, whilst the elephant footed Klo sorted herself out with a rather swanky 3 piece (suit, not sofa). Oh, how we spolit ourselves. And how grand we felt to be pottering around a tailors in clothes that haven't been continually worn for the last 4 months and weren't bobbling. Extraordinary. Up early (4.30am!!) for a trip around the magnificant temple series, 'My Son', just outside of Hoi An. Utterly stunning, although minus Klo as she stayed in beddy-bys - isn't quite as keen oin the old temple mooching as I appear to be. Much of the main architecture was bombed in the war, but it was still interesting to tinker about and be the only English tourist amongst a sea of Europeans. Hoi An by night, however, is perhaps the one resaon one would sojourn into this little place. By the river, the restaurants and shops rainbow of lanterns flickers and dance upon the river top. They create the warmest ambiance that shrowds you - a comforting and special feeling hums within you. Or maybe that is just the lovely Dalat (southern Vietnam town) wine that we were supping. It never ceases to amaze me the power that little fairy lights in paper orbs have on people. Or on me at least. Needless to say, a couple of these oriental style lanterns are winging their way across the world along with my coat (and other treasures). Yep, another parcel, mummy! So hop-along and I are on the move again, this time to the historical and once politically integral city of Hue, north of Hoi An (and of Danang). We met a lovely couple from Isreal on the bus up, Alma and Allon, and so we became a little four for the night, venturing into the old town for some fodder. We managed to obtain the strangest meal in a while - a whole fish cooked in aloa vera leaves, and you take bits of the fish, some salad type stuff and chilli sauce (of course) and wrap it in your own DIY roll of rice paper. Fun, fiddly, but perhaps not to be repeated. Since discovered that this is 'Ca nuong trui', so there you go. Then, I peddled the cyclo back with the Vietnam chappy pretty much sat in Klo's lap! hahaha. Next day, we're up and out early, onto the top of Alma's hotel for a session of Yoga. Yes, under the small roof and surrounded by drying linen, the four of us did a spot of stretching and heavy breathing and all things yogi-esque. A lovely relaxing hour that invaribly did my muscles in for the next 4 days! hahaha. Followed by the tourist thang, of hiring bicycles (Well, Klo and I...aren't we fit and healthy and things??!!) and cycled our way to the famous Thien Mu Pagoda, founded in 1601, and apparently, on of the most iconic structures in Vietnam. Then back to the Old Town and Citadel (Kinh Thanh). It is an old impreial city, enclosed within high walls and a moat. Gorgeous and impressive, although much of it was bombed by the Americans in the war (more of that later). Time is of the essence, so 'tis to the capital we go - Hanoi. Alas, we are a day behind schedule, so the Chinese embassy is not open (bummer) and KloKlo isn't able to get that Chinese visa process under way. So instead, we potter off the the Ethnology museam which is filed with information about the diverse and extensive tribal people throughout Vietnam. Then we popped to the somewhat confusing War museam, and saw impressive old American B-52s (that we obviously shot down) and other military equipment...including medals and papers and things, but there was no clear explaination of the wars (of which there have been many in Vietnam). That is why the investment in a good guide to the history of Vietnam was in order - I felt ignorant of the atrocities and political strife that Vietnam has endured. So, the next read was 'A People's History of the Vietnam War', by Jonathan Neale (2001). Goodness me, this is a book that should be read by everyone, whether or not they plan to visit Vietnam. This book is excellent, although obviously bias to the 'Left' and somewhat radical politics (I have a feeling the author has Trotsky ideals) but nonetheless, it presents the wars in Vietnam (the French colonialism from 1858 to the 1950s) and the American invasion from 1965 to 1973 in a teleological manner - contextualises these wars from the perspective of the politics that were actaully going on the in the aggressor countries as well as the political struggles of the Vietnamese people. And some discussion of the repercussions of war for Amercia following the Vietnam failure. The Vietnam war was a utterly diabolical bloodbath for all parties, but espeically the Vietnamese. This book really made me understand the suffering these people have endured, and made me appreciate their generous and interested nature - still full of smiles despite what they have so recently escaped. And it made the tale of the old veteran we spoke to all the more weighted. He was awarded for shooting down 2 B-52s and had a big chunk missing out of his shoulder from a bullet. Read this book. So, to explore the back streets of Hanoi Old Town was truely cryptic - a labirynth of alleyways and back streets and unlabelled lanes. But, highly attractive all the same for its hussle and bussle after all the quiet towns we have since frequented. Klo had a stormer in the DVD shop (may well have a copy of every episode of every American sit-com/series I have ever known, and indeed, never heard of before), so just a few more pounds to add to her ever-growing luggage ("Its only three weeks!", she quips, as she hawls her new, pink luagge bag along too, fearing that her lanterns are going to face a life looking more like a pancake!). Halong Bay is the next port of call. Oh, for the days of package holidays and being sheparded around in a group, along with other groups, all pushing and shoving to get to their boat, or struggling to hear their guide because someone else is shouting about their bag not being were they thought they'd left it. Yes, the snobby aversion to mass tourism that one develops startled me as I felt myself riled by being but of on the many cattle, headed for the beautiful waters of Halong. but, soon we were all about the lovely wooden boat and being served up a banquet of fodder, and we were happy. Halong Bay (cited from Lonely Planet here) is composed of 3000 or more incredible islands which rise from the tranquil waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. The vegetation-covered islands are dotted with innumerable grottos, covered by the wind and the waves, and sailing through, it is magnificant and breath-taking. Utterly stunning natural wonder. The mind boggling thing is...how the bloody hell it managed to come into being! Legend has it, that a (large) dragon steamed through the mountains, carving out the sculptures of the landscape with its fomiddable tail and a spot of fire, no doubt. Geological masterpiece, to say the least. The only thing that slightly maimed it for me were the blinking 'Bearded Brigade'. What, what?? I hear you cry! Yes, this is a new species of male that we have encountered on our travels. Hairy, dirty and generally disgusting. But, this exquisite pair were particualrly revolting. BLACK feet. Like, dirt was ingrained in the soles, and there were sores under where their flip-flops lay, and they STANK. They are university boys, and homeless people have a better standard of hygine then there two hyineas (shut-up, Eddddd)! They stank! Honestly, STA travel ought to provide a 'how to stay clean on your travels' kit for boys - complete with a razor and foot scrubber. Mingers. The 'cruise', however, was wonderful. We explored caves around the bay, which was very excite, although there was a hint of Alton Towers with the coloured lighting. Was waiting for dracula to pop out at any moment. And then to Cat Ba, a habitable island in the centre of the stoney jigsaw, where we munched on far too much fodder (3 Jewish girls couldn't eat the seafood given...so we managed to truly embrace the notion of 'waste not, want not.' Fatties. The next day, off into the Cat Ba Nature Reserve, and got pretty soggy and was a bit scared when we realisde that flip-flops were perhaps not the most suitable footwear for scrambling up rocks! Being a hero, once we reached the sumit (very beautiful views), I decided to scale the highly dubious metal scafolding, feigning as a tower, just to see from a bit higher up. Would have been ok, but our guide asked if I got scared of heights, for a girl on a previous excursion had sobbed once she reached the top. I could see it in his face he didn't want a repeat performance on my part. But I got up and down - without my flip-flops on! Then, back to our ocean vessle, so cruised once more amongst the mysterious Halong rocky steeples. Sunny and lovely. Then a wee spot of kayaking as the sun went down. Deliciously stunning. How very romantic for Klo and I. Don't know how the floating villagers felt about it all (yes, there were people that appeared to live on little platforms that floated on the ocean, complete with little fires burning and smoking some big pipe. I'd be damned if this wasn't the inspiration for that crap movie, 'Waterworld'. No Costners though). Waking up on a boat in the ocean was a pretty cool thing too - especially since I shovelled my sorry ass out of bed at 6.45am to bask in the morning rays. Silence in the bay. Then breakfast, swiftly followed by a swim in the sea. Jumping from the roof of the boat (yet again, what a hero) I splashed into the turquoise waters, as happy as Larry (whoever he may be). Until, the hottest, searing pain whipped across my legs - laceration was that word that flashed through my mind to describe the paaaaain to myself. AGH!! What the hell??? So, not quite so serenly as previously, I scooted back to the boat, my leggies all a tingle (understatement OF the year), and was diagnosed with a serious bout of jelly-fish attack! Ouch. No more sitting in the sun for me for the time being!! Back to shore (the massive lumps on my legs having somewhat decreased in size and firey redness), and in the mini-bus back to the captial. Hurrah for Hanoi, for I quite like it. So, Klo stays in her beddy-bys whilst I trot off again to squeeze some more understanding out of Vietnam. Popped into the Ho Chi Minh Museum. This chap is basically a lovely fellow who wanted equality and a better land for the Vietnamese, and is much worshipped by them. 'Uncle Ho', no less. The museum was utterly gorgeous, somewhat of a cross between a historical relay through the wars of Vietnam and a intricate modern art museum - Picasso's creation of Guernica even had a poignant appearence. Then to act the part of the voyaer upon the waxy, embalmed corpse of Uncle Ho in his Mausoleum complex...eery, but entertaining to see so many Vietnamese queing up to pay respects. Echoed the experience of St.Peter's basillica in the Vatican. Then off to the Temple of Literature (Van Mieu), which was dedicated to Confucius in 1070, and was where pupils would study to become Mandarins. All very interesting. Oh, and sorted myself (and my mother) with new specs!! Since I dropped mine on the bathroom floor, and they were far beyond a 'Jack Duckworth' repair effort, I decided to check out the local optitions...lo and behold, a lovely pair of specs for a snip at 13 quid!! Usually about 300 in the good ol' U of the K!!! Hehehe. However, the creme de la creme, the absolute pinnicle of out time in Vietnam, nay, perhaps of travels, was a little trip out to the nearby town of La Mat. For eating…SNAKE!! Yippers, you read correctly, we were off to sample the delights of the scaly one. Pulling up to the standard motorbike, we were treated to a cup of green tea, before selecting the snakey which we were to have carved up and cooked into a variety of dishes. And what a lovely slippery fellow too! Over the bamboo bridge and onto the lake, we became the witnesses of a murder. The serpent was slain right before our very eyes!! Slit down its throat, the bile fro the gall bladder was siphoned off into one lass of rice wine, whilst the blood was squezzed into another, whilst the beating heart was prized out. Yummy! The heart, being a myotic muscle, can beat alone without any external aid. And it beat for a considerable amount of time after too! Well, until I ate it!! hahaha. Klo went a very chalky white and didn't speak to me for a bit. The blood-wine was ok, although the bile was a bit too bitter for our tastes. The snake was yummy, in all its forms too! Soup, sauteyed, fried, spring-rolled, wrapped in leaves and its fat used to cook our rice! Delicious! All the while we chatted to our lovely bike driving couple, the husband constantly topping himself up on our snakey vino...hehehe. And after the reptile banquet, we saw other things that they appear to enjoy cooking up - lizards, porqupines and yes...cat. Sorry aunty Neesie. It didn't look happy at all in its little cage, but do not fear, we haven't munch on cat crepes, as far was we know! Then for beers with the locals to finish it all off! Hurrah! And then, it came to the last day of Chloe and Flynn's travels together. Unable to obtain a visa for the land of China, due to the iron cage of bureacracy (yes, Weber definately had a point), Klo was heading south of 'Nam to work on her tan, whilst up into the highlands of Vietnam for Flynners. A final dinner of Pho (noodle soup) and hugs and kisses, and off we went on our seperate ways. Klo on a bus...and whilst I was waiting for the train, I ventured out to the Vietnemese water-puppet show! The funniest and cutist thing I have seen in ages! Chaps hide on boards behind a screen and little puppets slice about above the water, acting all sorts of mischief, like 'Catching foxes' or 'children playing in the water'. Ho, ho, ho. Still, :( Miss you Klo! So, Sapa was the destination of choice for me. A stunning little town in the highlands of Vietnam and the home of a number of ethnic minorities that can't be met anywhere else in the world! The train from Hanoi was the cheapest for a 12 hour journey I ever encountered...about 2 pounds 80...but that was for a distinct reason....my seat was that of a wooden bench, on a particularly dodgy train. Hurrah for independant, budget travel! And, I have proven my very own theory that I can pretty much sleep anywhere - except that numb feeling of paralysis that sometimes jolts you back into conciousness was a little too frequent for my liking. At least no one around me seemed to snore. How very courtious of them all. So, a sore ass, and a bumpy ride in a bus up from the train station to Sapa, a much need shower and then off out into the countryside to see some of these local village types. Cat Cat village was my port of call...and was gorgeously set in the depths of the valley. A lovely stroll on a sunny afternoon, to potter about the Hmong peoples, who wear very distinctive, colourful clothing, dyed using natural ingrediants (as I learnt in the Ethnology museum - thanks Hanoi). The following day, up early for the Saturday market where the various peoples of the local villages congregate for the Saturday Market. The streets of Sapa were awash with brightly coloured head-dresses, elaborate embrodiary and, the quick sell of the local wares. Sucker that I am, bought myself some beautiful throw and cushion cover and other tat...on now my rucksack is superbly weighty. And full. I took a bike out after investing in the local economy into the countryside to check some villages further out that weren't quite to decidedly formatted for tourists. Shh, Jon Collins. I went to the Lao Chai village, again home to the Hmong people, who are a fan of wearing navy blue, then to Ta Van, a village of Dzay people, who wear brightly coloured tartan blanket-style clothes on their heads, and finally the Ban Ho village, quite a few Km from Sapa, and here reside the Dzao minority. They were their hair up in a sprial and seem the quietest of the minorities. Then splish-splash, in I went into the waterfalls of the village, fully clothed in my summer dress (cotton for quick dry. Hurrah!). Really stunning countryside with the wind blowing in your hair and the sun on your back. Again, I trumpet the simple joys of sitting astride a motorbike and zipping through the valleys and stunning countryside. I want a bike!! So, quite the adventrous anthropologist! I only ate at the market for meals of 50p and chatted to the Hmong peeps - and was given the email for one so I can add her on Facebook! hahahahaha. Hyper-reality??!! JC?? Nope, they don't just crack their outfits for the tourists...I saw many pottering in the fields, heaving heavy wood and stitching up new clothes, even in places that tourists weren't likely to be watching. And then...China.

Loitering in Laos.

Hut, bus, coach bed...hut. That was but one excellent series of nights sleeps that we have encountered and endured on our happenings in Laos! Due to our somewhat tightened schedule, the 'missioning' from one end of the country to another has been intense. Including sampling a wide range of sleeping arrangements (no - not with other people. In most cases).

Alas, I get ahead of my self. After my attempts at engaging with the Lay culture in the capital (yeah, yeah, made it to one temple....but I'd only been in the country 20 hours!), I was off on the bus up to Vang Vieng to join Klo and her band of Merry Mancunians for birthday booziness! Hmm...good wedge of t-totalness there, me thinks! Arrived there to find that Klo had not in fact responded to me coming to meet them all, and so sauntered into a little bar and munched on the much famed fresh spring rolls of Laos, and with 'Lap Lap', a minced beef 'salad' with plenty of spice. Yummy. A nice Israeli chappy kept me entertained until the Klo raised her feverish head to acknowledge my presence in the little town - 3 hours later. hahaha. Yes, so at 10pm on Tuesday, a tottered into a midden of a room awash with chocolate wrappers and general clues of gastronomical gorging. They had fallen victim to the local delicacies of 'magic shakes and pizza.' One shall not go into the gory details, but they still weren't as fresh as they may have wished on Wednesday morning for the much celebrated and anticipated 'tubing', Happy birthday Rachel! haha. I, mean while, was a smug b*stard, and was all excited post-detox.

For those at a loss at this casually mentioned activity, namely 'tubing', I shall enlighten you. I am aware that my varied audience will vary in its excitement and, erm, yeah.

Tubing - the sitting of oneself in a large, rubber inner tube that once lay snuggled and dry on the interior of a tractor. This over-sized, industrial rubber ring is sat in my its owner (woe betide he that loses it!) and floats down the muddy waters of the Nam Song river, stopping off at the many wooden bars that line the river down-stream. If the current whisks you past the bar - tough. Unless you successfully grab a bit of rope and are fished in by some nice type. Yes, the culmination of sitting in a rubber ring, drinking, leaping off zip-lines and rope swings into a fairly fast flowing river over the course of 6 hours or so is definitely the safest activity I have ever engaged in. HAHAHA. the first bar that we managed to squirm ourselves out of our tubes into was great - it had a massive rope swing that you had to scramble up a rickety wooden ladder to reach...and then pathetically, I screeched "this is really scary" as it swung me out significantly higher over the water than I had anticipated! The next bar and another beer, a spot of muddy volleyball was undertaken, followed by a quick slide down the zip-line into the river! Hurrah! By the time we had made it to the last bar (we managed to successfully float by 3 others as mooching down the middle seemed to be a good idea...), shooting off a massive swing with a nice chap from Leeds, at the SAME time and letting go at the highest point was not a bit daunting at all. Must be those power buckets. Comedy times. Impressed? We managed to last all night too!
The next day we ate burgers, and chocolate and eggs and EVERYTHING. Because we felt like crap. And looked it. And probably smelt it. Such attractive young ladettes. Complete with wife-beater shirt that holds testament to our japes in bright green (I am, shamefully, wearing it right now in Vietnam. Can take the girl out of Blackpool....).

Next stop, Luang Prabang, the former royal capital in northern Laos. Since Klo had managed to bag the last seat on the coach, I had a prime-time location of the seat right next to the driver! Excellent views of the staggering mountains of Laos, but no nodding off as I'd have fallen down the steps and out! Since we hadn't been blessed with a warm shower in about six weeks, we decided splurging and spending 3 and a half GBPs, which included: single beds that were adorned with crisp, white sheets that we actually wanted to sleep in, a mini-bar, a TV, air-conditioning AND hot water for a truly great shower. A tonic for the soul, to be sure! Temples a-plenty, and an array of French-era architecture that simply generated a chilled out and elegant ambiance. Ventured around Wat Xieng Thong based near the northern tip of the peninsula formed by the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, and lost Klo (not the keenest admirer of temples compared to the temple fiend I appear to have evolved into), so tottered up the slopes of the 100m high Phu Si hill, and watched the sun fall into the lush green mountains surrounding Luang Prabang. Very tranquil indeed. And it was quite the chilled day we required as intense adventures lay in our stead the following day...

A two day adventure tour! Hurrah! Elephant riding to begin the day...and it was somewhat more intense of the old stomach muscles than anticipated when we saw the angles of the slopes these giants had to contend with! Eeek! Nearly sank straight down out of our bamboo throne! After feeding the blighters some yummy bananas, it was time that Klo, our guide, and I set off into the Laos terrain as intrepid hikers! In the blaring heat, we walked through vast open rice fields, enveloped between the immense mountains, then struggled our way through jungle vegetation and water-ways in the scorching heat of mid-day. Finally arrived in a small village of the Hmong people, one of the 84 ethnic minorities that reside throughout Laos. Their belief system is that of animism, and we had the privilege of meeting the village shaman, a chap who is believed to possess the ability to cure sickness and exorcise bad spirits from the sick who come for his aid (although there was a brown bottle of paracetamol loitering at the back of his medicine shelf...not that we doubt or anything...). The onward again until we reached the second village at where we would spend the night, the 'Khamu people'. But, we were successfully drenched by the rainy seasons, well, erm, rain, so were more than relieved to see our lovely bamboo hut! Yes, yes, the hut did not happen to have A/C, nor was there hot water in the trough with the bucket...but it was ace!! Yet, it was playing with the village children that totally mad it worthwhile...one minute I was tentatively trying to chatter with the little critters, next I was the pink pyjamed Pied Piper, with a entourage of many small persons imitating whatever obscure sound and body movement I could conjure up! hahaha. Fun, fun, fun. Next day, up early and a little bit more trekking for us, and then an afternoon on the river kayaking. Lush. But tiring....alas, no time for showers, as the bus was leaving to Vientiane at 6pm. So, it is a night bus...with a bed for us! Quite the luxury!

Passed a none eventful day in the capital, then again a night on the bus in a southerly direction for us. This time, not quite so luxurious as only a reclining chair...and the bones were definitely beginning to crave a nice, solid bed type thing...but to Pakse...and then down to Don Det, a small island which is part of the 'Four Thousand Island' chain. Gorgeous. And another hut. But it was for only 10 Kip a night...which ius 25pence! Wicked! AND, we had hammocks! A mooch around the paddy fields, and a day out on bicycles to see waterfalls (aka, rapids) and the beach (aka, muddy shore of the river) and all was swell. Then we met a right rabble that got us all started on various international stereotypes, and apparently, us good ol' brits, are down as describing everywhere as "dodgy, heaps of amazing brilliance!" Hmm, maybe I do say those words on occasion...So, James (posh boy who is on his gap year...'oh, reeeeaaalllllyyy', and Tait, an American boy living the hippy dream in Hawaii, both of which had a wicked sense of humour, so we all got along swell...especially after a spot of indulgence in the local spirit, 'Laos Laos'. Marvellous. And then we discovered cinnamon swirls on the celestial bakery (only one on the island) and sore heads were cured. Klo nearly died on a white water rafting extravaganza, whilst I adventured with the boys to pizza places of great promise, composed silly songs and drank milkshakes that should never have been imbibed. Hairy night. Scary morning. And then we disbanded like all merry men...for Klo and I...to the great land of 'Nam!

So, to Pakse for a bus to the border. Yikes! T'was not merely a bus, but a vechile of torture that we should never of boarded....a 12hour journey transpired to be that of 24hours....complete with deliveries of rice every half-hour along the way, getting rained on at 6am at the border crossing, Chloe having her purse stolen with her bank card, and on arrival at our final destination, discovered we were in fact in Danang, and not in Hue as first anticipated. But, survival is the key.

GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!