Days 130-133: Vietnam part 3

In which we go 'off truck' again on route to Cambodia.

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Days 130 & 131 (Ho Chi Minh City and beyond)

The morning after our crazy golf and cocktails evening, we took the bus with everyone else from Mui Ne to Ho Chi Minh City (usually abbreviated to HCMC) formerly, and still referred to as, Saigon, where we arrived hot and exhausted at about 2.30pm after a sweltering six hour journey. A quick phone call from Karen to the hostel brought one of their staff to where the bus had dropped us to escort us on the short walk to where showers were waiting to receive and revitalise our tired bodies. The hostel was perfectly nice (as hostels go) but didn’t despite Karen’s best efforts, have a double en-suite room for us to go into straight away.

Apparently there had been a mix up between reception staff, and the room earmarked for us had been mistakenly promised to the couple already in it, who had asked to extend their stay. Having been told that that was fine, the couple, not unreasonably left for the day and, of course, no one could say when they would be returning to be told they now couldn’t stay and, ‘by the way, would you mind moving out as soon as possible so we can give your room to someone else.’ We thought it quite likely that they would mind, so took matters in to our own hands and went in search of alternative accommodation, which was found at the third place of asking, a very nice three-star hotel opposite a small park. We couldn’t afford a park view (nor, indeed, any view) but were quite happy with our ‘standard’ (no window) room, which we thought would be good practice for our cruise to Australia, for which we have a money-saving inside cabin.

Initially, we booked in for three nights like the rest of the group at the hostel, but changed to two after looking at some of the trips and tours we were able to book via the hotel. In place of a third night there, we booked onto a two-day Mekong riverboat trip to our next port of call, Phnom Penh in Cambodia. This would mean having one day less in Saigon (frankly no great sacrifice) and replacing it with various water-based sightseeing opportunities, including crossing the border into Cambodia by boat and travelling up the Mekong direct to the centre of Phnom Penh. But all that is for later. Let me continue instead with my account of our now one and a bit days in Saigon/HCMC.

Actually, ‘the bit’ was what was left of the day we arrived. What with the journey, the traipsing around trying to find room at the inn then going back to the hostel for our luggage, all in the heat of the afternoon, all we did for the remaining daylight hours was shower eat and sleep, and by the time we’d rested, it was time to eat again. We decided to try the hotel’s own restaurant, which was on the 12th floor – basically the roof, the lift only going up to the 11th – which had a terrace with views out over the city. We chose two of their set Asian meals (very tasty and included fresh pancake rolls, which the waitress showed us how to make) and rewarded ourselves for surviving the day – how pathetic is that – with gin and tonics.

 

***

The next morning, we took a walk through a park (Tao Dan) with topiary dragons to the Reunification Palace, which has been left just as it was – fifties furniture and all – when the French pulled out of South Vietnam. Actually it’s history begins in 1868 after the French invasion and colonisation of southern Vietnam. When the palace was completed in 1873, it was called Norodom Palace (after the then king of Cambodia) and later renamed the Governor’s Palace and used by all the French governors as their residence and offices.

Fast forward now to after WWII, when the French were reinstated as colonialist after the Japanese, who had defeated the French there, surrendered to the Allies in 1945.

It gets a bit confusing in the 1950s with southern Vietnam enduring something of a power struggle and changing hands a few times but ending up under the rule of the self proclaimed president of the Republic of Vietnam (not to be confused with the communist state of North Vietnam) who renamed it Independence Palace. (It was also referred to as the Dragon’s Head Palace because of some fengshui thing, but let’s not worry about that.)

In the early sixties, during the Vietnam war, it was bombed by a couple of rouge pilots, but rebuilt as the New Independence Palace by the mid sixties. However, in 1975, the North Vietnamese swept south and at 10:45 on April 30th of that year, a tank of the North Vietnamese army bulldozed through the gates of the palace and base of operations for the South Vietnamese, effectively ending the Vietnam war.

In November 1975, following negotiations between the north and south, and the signing of a convention between the two, the palace was renamed Reunification Hall,  but now it’s known as the Reunification Palace. Don’t know when that happened. Sorry.

After lunch, we wandered about a bit, taking in the old French colonial post office, which looks more like an old railway station; Notre Dame cathedral, which was closed; the Diamond Shopping Centre, which was very much open; the opera house and a couple of posh hotels around there including The Rex, where so many news reports were filed by journalists staying there during the Vietnam war.

By then it was rush hour and getting kind-a chaotic, so we returned to our hotel for a cup of tea, a shower and a rest before venturing out again for dinner at the Ho Chi Minh City Hard Rock Cafe. Oh the irony of it.

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Days 132 & 133 (HCMC to Phnom Penh)

We were collected from our hotel at 7.30 am and walked to the meeting point for our boat tour/trip to Cambodia. First stop (by bus) was Cai Be in the Mekong Delta, were we boarded our first boat, which took us through the floating market there. After a short ride, we got off and visited a house were a woman showed us how to make paper-thin and translucent rice pancakes, like the ones we had our first night on the roof terrace. Next stop was another house where they were making coconut candy (yummy) in various flavours and distilling rice wine (less so).

Back on the boat, we were piloted through a maze of canals and waterways to a small village where, after a bit of a walk through mangroves, we had a simple but delicious lunch of rice and vegetables with a bit of chicken thrown in for good measure. From there, the boat took us to Vinh Long and from there, a bus took us (plus some others on a converging tour) to Long Xuyen and the Blue Skies Crocodile Farm, where, we were told, they have some 15,000 crocodiles - mostly boys, as apparently their skins make the best handbags for girls.

From there the bus took us on to our floating hotel by the Mekong at Chau Doc, and it was here, when wanting to get the co-ordinates for my usual location tweet, that I discovered I had somehow managed to leave our phone behind in Saigon. Unfortunately, by the time we managed to get through to the hotel there, there was no sign of it. All in all a rather sad way to end what had been a good day on and off the Mekong and its delta that wasn’t made any better by our rather grotty cabin and a somewhat disappointing meal.

***

The next morning, after an early start, a cold shower, an okay breakfast and some confusion over where to put our bags and which boat to get on, we set off for the next of our touristy add-ons: a visit to a fish farm, where it was explained by the guide how very expensive the fish food is now just before he threw several scoopfuls of the stuff to the ready and waiting fish, who responded as if he’d chucked in a live wire. The boil of these frenzied fish was extraordinary, akin to a Hollywood depiction of a piranha attack.

Next, the last stop before the boat took us off to Phnom Penh, we visited a Cham village. (You may remember that it was the Cham people who built the temples and tombs at My Son before being displaced by the Viet people.) The day we were there happened to be the last day of their New Year celebrations and we saw cows being butchered, presumably for some feast or other. The Cham people – one of Vietnam’s 50 or so minority ethnic groups – though originally Hindu, are now mostly Muslim and we were taken to see a Madrasa, where one of the cows was being butchered in the Halal way.

Once on our way again, one of the boat crew collected our passports and some forms we’d been given to complete the night before. When we got to the Vietnamese side of the border, we all got out of the boat and waited inside the border post (where snacks were available) while the crew member took our passports and forms to be processed. This was accomplished with no fuss or difficulty and we were back on the boat and on our way to the Cambodian side of the border with half an hour or so.

At the Cambodian border post, which was only a few minutes up the river, we all got out again and waited. This was quite possibly the prettiest border post we’ve ever seen. Immaculately kept lawns surrounded seating areas with thatched sun shelters and paths lead to ornate shrines and small pagodas. The staff were friendly and efficient and quickly processed our visas and customs declarations. Sometimes at border crossings, we’ve felt like we’re not really welcome, always suspect and frequently a bit of a nuisance. Here, we felt welcomed as guests.

Back on board one last time, now inside country number 23, we sped on, past boats and villages, large and small, towards it’s capital, Phnom Penh. We arrived (just along the riverbank from the Royal Palace) mid afternoon, about seven hours after leaving the Cham village, of which about one hour max was border crossing.

By the way: although we’ve arrived at countries by boat before – France, of course, and Turkmenistan – I think that’s the first time I’ve crossed a land border by boat. Ironic since Cambodia is landlocked.

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Next time, I’ll tell you about our time in Phnom Penh, where I am now, and Siem Reap, where we go tomorrow.

TTFN - N

Saigon Musings

Just fitting in a quick muse on the fact that weare lucky to be alive after our day wandering around Saigon, also known as Ho Chi Minh City. It was with great relief that we arrived back at the hotel  in one piece.  In fact we celebrated the fact with a pot of tea and a beer on the roof  terrace, from which safe distance we could look down on the source of our near-death experience: Motorbikes and scooters.

 

 

Not just one or  two, but millions and millions of the things, coming at you from all angles:

 



Crossing the road becomes a real 'adventure' and there is a trick to doing it -basically you just keep walking and hope that the bikes (and cars and taxis and buses and anything else) has seen you, judged the speed that you are walking at and, making allowances, will miss you.  You will therefore arrive safe and sound on the other side of the  road.  But you do have to take into consideration the fact that it is not just traffic coming at you from the normal two directions.  Sometimes they cross over all of the traffic and come up the kerb at the zebra crossing you are walking on.

There are tourist security police/guards all over the city and at several crossings they confidently stode out into the traffic and we confidently followed, thinking, foolishly as it turned out, that the traffic would stop and that these nice young men would be the helpful, safe way of crossing the roads.  In fact, even though they have noticeable green uniforms on, the traffic just ignores these police too and it is just as dangerous crossing with them as without.

Then of course there are the added hazards which we hadn't expected. We were applying the wrong set of road rules, thinking that most countries would follow the same basic principles in road safety.  So when we were safely on the pavement after a rather stressful crossing of several roads at a roundabout we breathed a sigh of relief, only to find the bikes and scooters couldn't be bothered to wait for the lights at the junction and decided to use the pavement as their right of  way, so we nearly died as tens of bikes drove acoss our path:

Easier roads to cross were one way streets when you only had to worry about traffic coming from one direction, until walking along the pavement, you were tooted by a bike coming against the flow of the traffic but on the pavement rather than the road and irritated that you had the temerity to be walking in their way.  Finally we sought sanctuary in the parks, where there was peace and a bit of calm.

I have crossed roads in India, with added cows and elephants, as well as roads in Cairo with the extra excitement of Ramadan and drivers who haven't eaten enough trying to get home for their food at sunset, but I don't think I have experienced anything like these Saigin roads!

 

Days 125–129: Vietnam part 2

In which we endure yet more sleeper buses, get wet, eat curry and get a round in.

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Days 125 to 127 (Nha Trang)

Our bus from Hoi An to Nha Trang arrived, after a sleepless night, at our hotel at 6.00 am, normally far too early to check-in, and yet our rooms were ready for us, which was just as well, as all any of us were fit for was to crash out and catch up on a few hours of sleep. We had a late breakfast at a restaurant next door and sat on their veranda out of the very hot sun.

Back at the hotel, while I slept some more, Juli uploaded some photographs and found that the internet connection was reasonably quick, so we took advantage and went onto the web site of the Singapore to Sydney cruise company to sort out a drinks package and looked at their excursion packages, in the end, booking only one: a tour round Bali, the ship’s only stop in Indonesia.

We met up with Adam and Corinne for an Indian in the evening, which was great and apparently cooked by the only Indian chef in Nha Trang. When we got back, having slept during the day, Ironically, I found I couldn’t sleep, so stayed up quite late writing for the blog. These sleepless sleeper busses really mess up my sleep patterns. They’re a good option for maximising daylight time at a given destination (and for combining transportation and accommodation on one ticket) but, in addition to knackering you for the next day, you don’t see anything of the countryside, as you pass through it in darkness.

***

Just off the coast from Nha Trang is an island resort called Vinpearl Land, which, in addition to having Vietnam’s largest aquarium and the world’s longest cross-water cable car, has an extensive water park with all sorts of slides, rides and flumes (with names like ‘Tsunami’, ‘Kamikaze’ and ‘Free Fall’), a couple of pools and an almost kilometre long ‘Lazy River’: a meandering canal with an artificial current that carries you around the resort on inflatable rings for one, two or three people. Brilliant.

The four of us – Juli, me, Adam and Corinne – got up extra early, breakfasted, took a taxi to the mainland cable car terminal and bought our day passes ready for when the cable car started running at 9.00 am.

We had a brilliant time, did loads, stayed there till gone 4.00 pm and still didn’t manage to get round half of it. It wasn’t crowded, the food wasn’t overpriced, everything was clean and we can even say that we had a swim in the South China Sea. A great day out.

The view back to the main land from the world's longest cross-water cable car

***

The next day was taken at a much more leisurely pace: lie-in; late breakfast; picnic lunch, bought the day before and shared with Adam and Corinne on the private roof-top terrace our two rooms shared. After that our lazy day continued with catching up on diaries, blog posts and e-mails etc. Later we went out for a delicious seafood dinner – just the two of us – at the place with the veranda where we’d had breakfast the first day.

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Days 128 & 129 (Mui Ne)

The bus to our next port of call was yet another daytime sleeper bus, a fourth kind with no more leg room than any of the others, but seemingly harder seats, which sent our bums to sleep if not our heads. On the way, we saw acres and acres of rice paddy fields – most planted up, some just harvested with the rice spread out to dry and some being ploughed by water buffalos – also coconut palms and banana trees. In addition, we saw very many fields of what I think were Aloe Vera plants. The other thing we saw in great numbers that we hadn’t seen elsewhere were hammocks: singularly and in groups; in use and vacant. must be a South Vietnamese thing.

Aloe Vera plants?

Six hours after leaving Nha Trang, we arrived at the old fishing village of Mui Ne, or rather somewhere along the belt of beach resorts between it and the much newer town (city?) of Phan Thiet. After changing more money and having lunch at our hotel, which was on the other side of the road to the smarter beach-front resorts, we strolled over the road to a likely looking hotel to ask at their reception desk if we could sit by their under utilised pool – none of the hotels were very busy, it being the end of the season – in exchange for us buying drinks there, but for some reason they wouldn’t hear of it. Guests only.

Instead, we wandered up the beach a little way then turned and walked back down again. When we got to the hotel that wouldn’t let us in, we spotted two of our truckmates sitting under one of their sun shades. “How did you get in?” “We just walked in.” They hadn’t asked and so weren’t turned away. So we joined them and ordered tea, which the pool bar waiter was more than happy to serve us.

The rest of the day was spent looking up excursions for our main cruise at the ports were we’d already decided we couldn’t easily organise our own tours (all far too expensive or not particularly interesting) shopping (unsuccessfully) for a new swimsuit for Juli, looking for dinner (a very nice fish curry at our own hotel, in the end) and looking at hotels in Singapore for between finishing the truck trip and embarking on our first cruise in to Sydney. Not long now: just one month, as I write.

***

I spent most the day between breakfast and dinner-time blogging: editing old posts and writing new ones. Juli was a bit more active, going out again in search of a new swimsuit, again unsuccessfully, but while she was out, she made two important discoveries. Firstly that there was a crazy golf course a short way up the road, and the second that a short way past that, there was an Indian restaurant.

We love a game of crazy golf, not that we’re any good at it, but a holiday just isn’t a holiday without one. We’ve been round crazy golf courses all over the world. This one was special, though: apart from the lush garden setting and the fact that we were playing by little more than moonlight, the unique selling point of this course were the cocktails – Mojito for me; Tequila Sunrise for Juli; brought to you as you play – and included in the ticket price. Now that’s class.

The score, you ask? Two drinks all. About par for the course these days.

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Next time, I’ll tell you all about our time in Ho Chi Minh City, where we’ve just arrived.

TTFN - N

Days 120–124: Vietnam part 1

In which we endure more sleeper busses, explore some of Vietnam’s pre-colonial past and Juli has a frock frenzy.

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Day 120 (continued) and 121 (Hue)

So, one third of the way through our 360 days, having arrived in Hue ahead of the main party, checked into our hotel and booked a tour for the next day, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering round the town with Christopher and Gayle. The hotel had given us a map and we went in search of some pagodas shown on it as being near some canals – we like a nice canal – and anything else we could find. We found one of the pagodas, but the other two were being renovated, so we couldn’t see those.

Hue is situated on the Huong or Perfumed river, apparently named for the perfume like aroma given to it by flowers from orchards up river of Hue falling into the river in the Autumn. Well, we were there in the Autumn and detected very little evidence of any such effect. We did, however find a floating restaurant with a rooftop terrace we thought might be nice for dinner, so booked a table for the seven of us (in case the others fancied joining us) for later. There’s a small park by the river that has a band stand in it, which was being setup for some sort of free concert that evening, as luck would have it, just a head of our dinner reservation. Having made a note of the start time, we headed back to the hotel to shower and to tell the others about the concert and dinner reservation

Shortly before the concert was due to start, the four of us met up (the others having plans of their own, it transpired) and wandered back to the park, where the concert had already started. It turned out to be a guitar orchestra (about 15 of them) playing tunes in a range of musical styles that had been arranged for their particular mix of instruments, including cover versions of American rock classics such as Hotel California by the Eagles.

When we arrived at the restaurant after the concert, there was a printed notice welcoming Juli Sims’ party. We thought that was a nice touch and it reminded us of being met at the railway station in Agra by a driver sent from our hotel there to collect us who held up a sign on which was written ‘Jolie Shins’.
In truth, the restaurant wasn’t all that: I’m not sure any of us got exactly what we’d ordered and the food was only okay, but the location – on the ‘Perfumed’ river next to a long, illuminated bridge which changed colour and opposite a row of prominent waterfront buildings with neon signs was great and reminded us a little of the views from the Kowloon Waterfront Promenade in Hong Kong.

***

The next morning, we were collected from our hotel and set off on our sightseeing tour. The tour took us to the tombs of three of Vietnam’s emperors from the Nguyen dynasty (the last of Vietnam’s monarchs) spanning about a hundred years: one of the first, majestic and formal; one of the last, a curious mix of oriental and Art Deco design, built in concrete; and one from the middle order, simple but beautifully landscaped. Also in the morning, we were taken to a martial arts show (cheesy and super-hyped up for us tourists) and a village where they make the conical bamboo hats you see everywhere here and incense sticks.

The burning of incense sticks is big in Vietnam. Everybody does it. You see them outside shops in the morning – an offering for a good day’s trade – taxi drivers burn them for a safe and prosperous day and even our tour guide said he burns them to ensure he has a happy group and doesn’t lose anyone. Every shop, house and hotel has it’s own shrine to which prayers are offered and in which incense sticks are burnt.

After an excellent buffet lunch, we were driven to the ancient walled citadel (apparently modelled on the forbidden city in Beijing) know as the Purple City. Our tour guide had only allowed about an hour to walk around what is a very large site, and we were concerned that this wouldn’t be nearly enough. However, when we went in, we soon realised why we wouldn’t need more time: basically, although the impressive city walls are still standing, sadly almost nothing of what was inside them remains, due largely, we were told, to intense fighting and bombing during the Vietnam War. Efforts are underway to restore (rebuild, really) the palace complex and other buildings, a project expected to take four years and for which US$61.4 has been reserved.

Next stop, before a dragon boat ride back to our hotel, was the seven story Thien Mu (celestial lady) Pagoda – Vietnam’s tallest – built in 1601 after and old lady, so the legend goes, foretold of it’s building by a lord who would come and erect a pagoda on a hill to pray for the country’s prosperity. After making her prophecy the lady promptly vanished. Upon hearing this, the then governor of Hue ordered the construction of a temple at the site. Well, you would, wouldn’t you. I recon the old lady’s, husband or son was probably a builder and she was just drumming up trade for the family firm.

Dinner that evening was at a lovely little place round the corner from our hotel, followed by a drink at our hotel: a Hue beer for me, a cocktail called Juliana Blue for guess who.

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Day 122 (Hue to Hoi An and clothes shopping)

The bus to Hoi An wasn’t due until after lunch, so while I blogged, Juli popped out for a little last minute shopping. When it came, we were amused to see that it was another of these sleeper busses, like the one we got from Laos but with a bit more leg room, which actually made it possible to stretch our legs out straight if not actually lie flat.

Half way to Hoi An, the bus stopped at a very smart service station near Da Nang, a large port city about half way down Vietnam’s South China Sea coast. Totally unlike any service station I’ve ever seen – the closest thing in the UK would be Westmorland services on the M6 – I actually thought we’d stopped at a resort hotel.

We arrived at our hotel (nice room) at about 6.00 pm and went out almost immediately to a tailor just over the road from the hotel recommended to us by the receptionist. In addition to Hoi An’s old town, the main draw to the city seems to be its many tailors and shoe makers who are able to run up any item of clothing in next to no time at very reasonable price.

Juli had come armed with two dresses she owns and particularly likes for them to copy, and quickly set to choosing fabrics and negotiating prices. I was left somewhat bewildered by the place and, despite the sales assistants’ best efforts, chose not to join in the shopping frenzy that was building around me as more and more of our truck mates came into the same tailors on their own missions. At some point during the evening, i think almost everybody on the trip passed through their doors, most of them placing orders for frocks and suits and leaving deposits. I have to confess here to a moment of weakness when both Juli and I ordered matching silk pyjamas for our main cruise. Me: black with silver piping; Juli: silver with black piping. We’re going to look like something out of a Cary Grant movie.

Orders placed and next-day fittings arranged, we left in search of dinner. Amazing how hungry clothes shopping can leave one.

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Days 123 & 124 (Hoi An and on to Nha Trang)

This morning we wandered towards Hoi An’s old town in search, initially, of breakfast. (Sometimes this blog reads like an endless quest for food interspersed with the occasional bit of sight-seeing thrown in as a buffer between meals.) While we were enjoying our omelettes, Corinne wandered by. She joined us for a fruit smoothy then asked, since we were going to be walking round the old town at the same time, if she could join us. “Of course,” we said, so the three of us bought entrance tickets and set off together.

Hoi An old town is a UNESCO listed world heritage site, and the tickets give you admission to some of the special buildings there are to see in it. These include the famous Japanese Bridge that dates from the early 1600s and is now the symbol of Hoi An, a temple, four museums, three old houses and numerous congregation halls, where Chinese expatriate residents socialized and held meetings.

After lunch (with Adam, who had somehow appeared at exactly the right time and place) and a bit more wandering, Corinne went off for her dress and suit fitting and Juli and I took a boat ride. At the helm was an old lady of at least 400. Quite possibly the very same one who disappeared from Hue after making the prediction. She rowed us up and down the river for about 45 minutes and instinctively knew which bits to steer us towards so that Juli could get the photographs she wanted.

Before long, it was time for Juli to go for her fitting, and as luck would have it, on the way there, we spotted Sandy just finishing a late lunch at a small cafe, so she and I went for a beer, while Juli went back to the hotel for a shower before returning to the tailors. When I met up with her later, I was surprised that she wasn’t burdened by bags. However, it transpired that a few alteration were necessary, but that her new frocks (and our PJs) would be ready by 3.00 pm the next day.

***

When researching Vietnam for this trip, Juli read about a ruined temple complex called My Son (pronounced ‘me song’) that sounded a bit like Angkor Wat in Cambodia: similar dates, similarly ruined, similarly  situated in the jungle. Our bus to Nha Trang wasn’t until 5.00 pm, so we’d booked a tour the previous day and persuaded Sandy to come too. Our excellent guide explained that the site is collection of Hindu temples dedicated to Shiva, constructed by the kings of Champa between the 4th and 14th centuries AD for religious ceremonies and as tombs for Champa royalty.

Today the temples are mostly ruined following their abandonment when the Champa people were displaced by the Viet people in the 15th century, and damage sustained during the Vietnam War.

The temples and other buildings were constructed from unfired clay bricks held together by tree resin, which were then fired in situ. This results in the exterior of the tombs fusing together to form a smooth surface with no visible joint lines. Clever.

Back in Hoi An, Juli returned to the tailors to collect her dresses (eight of them) and our PJs and to pay. She took a photograph of the total on their calculator. I think she was a little surprised at the amount.

(Don’t worry, it’s in Vietnamese Dong: about 21,000 to the US Dollar.)

After a sit down and a bite to eat to recover from the shock, we went with our group in taxis to the bus station for the over-night bus to Nha Trang. Another sleeper bus, a third kind, this time with less leg room. Suffice it to say that it was a long and uncomfortable night.

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Next time: At the beach in Nha Trang and Mui Ne.

TTFN - N

More technical problems

Posted about Laos the other day and have just added photos and tags, etc to our China posts, but I can't view our blog online. Don't know why that should be - don't think it's political interference this time - but would anyone reading this who knows our e-mail address write and let me know if they can see our posts and photos or not, please. (The Lao post is titled 'Days 114-120: Laos')

Ta

Days 114–120: Laos

In which we spend a day on elephants and a night on the Knight bus.

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Days 114-116 (Luang Prabang)

Last time I wrote, we’d just met up with the others at the Spicy Backpackers Hostel, a.k.a. the Lemon Laos Hostel. Our room (and the rooms of others upgrading) however was at another hotel a couple of doors down from there. Now, we’ve had some really nice upgrades and Karen always does her best to put us somewhere nice, but she has to work within a budget and with what’s available. The room we got, though it had it’s own shower and loo, was not on this occasion what you’d call nice, to the extent that we didn’t really mind that it had no windows and just one small strip light, because it meant not being able to see it so well.

After showering, changing and putting clothes in to be laundered, we met up with Adam and Corinne to find somewhere nice to eat.  Luang Prabang has lots of restaurants along its main street, part of which becomes a traffic-free night market every night. The traders had just started to setup when we were walking to the hostel from the where the boat landed, and now it was in full swing. The market is made up of hundreds of individual stalls selling every kind of souvenir you can imagine – clothes, pictures, jewellery and nic nacs of every description – all laid out to tempt you and all cleared away again about four hours later.

After diner – fish curry with sticky rice, which is a bit like having your pudding with your main course – we crossed the road to look at the packages on offer at some of the many travel and tour agents there. Laos is the land of a million elephants and several of the agents had trips out to spend a day riding on elephants, plus learning how to control, bath and feed them. You can spend anything from half a day to a week with the elephants and see a bunch of other attractions too at the same time. We settled on a reasonably priced trip which gave us the most ‘howdah’ time with the fewest shopping add-ons, which we arranged for the next day.

***

The next morning after a full American breakfast, we set off in a mini bus with some other tourists to an elephant camp by the Mekong river. All the elephants there are ex-logging elephants and the Mahouts ex-loggers. The Lao government seem quite keen to encourage the move from logging to tourism and, I imagine, the elephants are as please with the change of emphasis as we are.

The day was everything we’d hoped for and you may already have seen all the happy smiley photos of Juli on or with her favourite animal on her Flickr page.

Dinner that evening was taken in the lantern-lit garden of another excellent restaurant followed by a stroll back through the night market, where some light bargaining and souvee shopping completed a near perfect day.

***

Our last full day in Luang Prabang started very early to catch the monks making their dawn rounds of the town collecting food and other offerings from tourists and locals alike. Buddhist monks have been receiving alms in this way for centuries, but not, I suspect, with the additional dimension of some locals selling over priced bowls of food to slightly embarrassed tourists for them to give to the monks. I wasn’t sure quite who was being exploited by whom, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth and I can’t imagine what the monks must make of it all.

After that, we set off up the hill to visit a temple with many statues of Buddha, including a group named for every day of the week. Our climb was rewarded not only by the things we saw on the way but by the slightly magical, early-morning misty views out over the town.

On the other side of the hill is the palace museum. This had been the residence of the kings of Laos before the last of them was deposed in 1975. We saw a very grand reception hall and various artefacts from the pre-republican era, including some splendid old cars: Lincoln Continentals – a gift from the United States. I wonder if that was before or after the carpet bombing.

After a bit more wondering around and lunch by the river, we headed back to the hostel and a well earned rest. In the evening, we split up: Juli went back to the Palace Museum theatre to see a performance of Lao ballet or opera or something else I wasn’t particularly interested in, which was unfortunately cancelled due to the fact that they’d only sold four tickets, while I went with a few others of our truckmates to an evening cookery class, where we learnt to make a small selection of typical Lao dishes, which we all shared afterwards. I made a kind of fish soup with smoked aubergine paste plus a pork and shredded banana flower salad. All very tasty though I say it myself.

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Days 117 (Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng)

Early breakfast (stir-fried veg and egg on a baguette) to be ready on time to transfer in a tuk-tuk-truck from the hostel to the bus station where our truck was waiting for us along with one new tyre and one newly repaired tyre.

Once we were all on board and on our way, Karen handed out the itinerary for the three weeks between leaving the truck in Laos when we travel through Vietnam and Cambodia to Bangkok, Thailand using a mixture of private and public transport. This is because Foreigners aren’t allowed to bring vehicles into Vietnam and the paperwork required to bring vehicles into Cambodia makes it unworkable. Instead, Will drops us somewhere near the Laos/Vietnam border and drives direct to Bangkok and waits, while Karen stays with the group.

Anyway, the first part of the new itinerary is the journey between our last stop in Laos (Vang Vieng) and out first in Vietnam (Hue). This involves two nights of bush camping to the Laos/Vietnam border with the truck, two long bus rides either side of the border and a late arrival to Hue. The itinerary also shows that we have to move on to our second stop in Vietnam, Hoi An after just half a day in Hue: not really enough time to do justice to what was once the imperial capital of Vietnam and town with a lot of history.

I mentioned to Karen that this seemed a pity and she suggested that, as an alternative, we could take the night bus direct from Vang Vieng to Hue instead, which would get us into Hue over a day earlier, at our own expense, naturally. After discussing this idea between us and mentioning it to a few others, by the time we got to Vang Vieng, we had a small breakaway group of seven wanting more time in Hue and interested in finding out more about this option. As luck would have it, the receptionist at the hostel was able to book seats on the sleeper bus for the day after next and arrange transport for the seven of us to the bus station into the bargain. With that sorted, all that was needed was to book an extra night’s accommodation at the Hue hostel, which Karen was able to do for us all. Sorted.

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Day 118 (Vang Vieng)

Vang Vieng is a curious place. Apparently it used to be a bit of a party town where booze and drugs were freely available and consumed almost in equal measure. unfortunately this didn’t mix well with the town’s other principle activity, tubbing, which is floating down the Mekong or through caves along underground rivers on a lorry inner tube. Over the years, there were quite a few deaths and disappearances, and when this fate befell two Israeli special forces soldiers, questions were asked and action taken at a level sufficient to shut the whole enterprise down. Now it’s the town which just floats along.

We spent the day just resting, uploading photos (very slowly) and surfing the internet, looking at option for visiting Machu Picchu when we get to Lima next year. We had an e-mail from Oceania (the cruise company) with details of their excursion, but they’re asking a lot of money for something you could arrange yourself, so long as you could be sure that everything fell into place just so, such that you get back to the ship before it sails on to the next port. If you do their trip (£1,800 each) they’ll wait for you; if you do your own, they won’t. The thing is, it involves quite a few connections (taxi, plane, taxi, train, bus) there and back again in just two and a bit days. It would only take one of those to break down and we’d be stuffed. I mentioned all this to Karen, who also does trips to South America and has done exactly this journey. She said she could arrange the whole thing and fly out from England to meet us and take us round herself for less.

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Days 119 & 120 (Vang Vieng to Hue)

The next morning, we got everything we needed off the truck, which we wouldn’t be seeing for another three weeks, and said goodbye to those of our truck mates sticking with the original plan. Our bus was due to leave town until the afternoon, so we had a little more time to kill.

The tuk tuk to the bus station arrived on time, but the coach was half an hour late, which was a worry as it turned out we had to change buses in the capital, Vientiane and we didn’t know if they would hold the overnight sleeper bus for us or even if they knew we were coming at all. Looking back on it, we put quite a bit of trust in the hotel receptionist to arrange quite a complicated series of connections we would have been hard pressed to sort out if they became unravelled.

It was dark by the time we got to Vientiane and quite chaotic, what with all the other busses coming in and going out of what is quite a large and busy bus and coach terminal. However, it seems the drivers are well used to clueless tourists not knowing what to do or where to stand and knew from our tickets where we were headed. One of them confidently told us to stand in a particular spot and so we did. Shortly after that, another man asked “Hue?” and, when we said yes, indicated that we and our luggage needed to get into a small mini bus, which again, we just did, hoping that this was not the ‘VIP Sleeper bus’ to Hue we would be spending the next 18 hours in. We needn’t have worried however, as this, it turned out, was just a shuttle to take us to the other large bus terminal in Vientiane. It seems the are two international bus stations: the North Terminal our first coach arrived into and a South Terminal where our sleeper bus to Hue was waiting for us. We were the last to board and took the very last remaining berths: to singles just in front of a row of five across the very back of the bus, which left as soon as we got on it.

Sleeper buses have three lines of bunk beds (one line head-to-toe down each side and another down the middle) plus these five across at the back. It’s a bit like the Knight bus out of Harry potter except that the beds don’t move around, thank goodness. Think of those luxurious, first class, British Airways, beds-seats you see advertised on TV and know you’ll never be able to afford, then try to imagine how they’d look if Ryan Air were to do the same thing at discount prices and you’ll have a pretty good idea about the level of comfort these sleeper seats afford.

For a start, their more like reclined car seats where the back never quite goes flat. (In fact they can’t go flat because the feet of the person behind you are under it.) If you’ve every had to sleep in a car you’ll know what I mean. Then you’ve got the shape of the seat; the edges are raised to hold you in your seat as the bus careers through the night. Put the two together and realistically the only way you can lie is on your back.  Finally the dimensions of the seat – the width and particularly the length of the seat in terms of leg room – are presumably based on measurements taken from typical south-east Asians, who, by and large (or, rather, small) are about half the size of your typical westerner. Even I can’t lie flat with my legs out straight in these things, so you can imagine how Juli faired. Now factor in the noise of the bus, the noise of your fellow passengers and the noise of the non-stop Chinese martial arts movies playing through a tinny speaker just inches from your head and you’ve got the full picture.

***

We arrived, somewhat bleary eyed at the Laos/Vietnam border at about 5.30 am and queued for our exit stamps, which somehow, though our visas were in date, required us to pay some sort of over time payment, or possibly it was an overtime payment due to the hour of our arrival, I’m really not sure which. We then had to wait for the Vietnamese border to open at 7.00 am. (Why they don’t time the bus to coincide with the crossing I also don’t know.) When it did open, there was a mad rush for the passport control windows, which of course, being British, we didn’t join in. Mind you, maybe I should have been a little quicker off the mark as my passage through passport control took a little longer than most, while the passport officer checked then re-checked my details, then passed my passport to another officer to check, who had to phone through to some other office or officer. He then handed it back to the first officer who seemed less than impressed and left on the side while he dealt with a few other passengers but eventually stamped me through while in the middle of processing one of our group. Borders are such fun.

Anyway, by 8.00 am we were through and back on the bus, and by 11.00 am we were in Hue, flagging down a minivan taxi to take us to our hotel. Hotel to hotel: about 22 and half hours. Then it was shower, laundry, lunch and out to book a tour to take full advantage of our hard-earned extra day in Hue, one time capital of Vietnam: country 22, about which more next post.

TTFN - N

Laos Musings

Well, these have been brewing for a while but it has been difficult through China to be able to connect to Blogger.  Now here we are in Lovely Laos and sitting waiting for a bus to take us on to Vietnam (we have skipped off again for a couple of  days so that we get more time in Hue and are taking a twenty eight hour trip on the sleeper bus so that we arrivewith time to see the sights...) so it seemed like a good opportunity to do some musing.

Technology
It's everywhere.  Just like in Europe mobile phones are everywhere and people are using them at every opportunity they get in all of the places we have travelled through.  No rules here about driving and using your mobile - everyone does it - lorry drivers overtaking on unmadeup roads, everyone in tuk tuks and even on your motorbike or scooter.

Then, off course, just walking along the road is the best time touse them.  One evening in China our way to the restaurant was lit by all the young people with their phones on. On the elephant trek through the forest the mahout had his mobile out for most of the route.

But my best one was the Monk on a Mobile in Mongolia!

Alongside the mobile phones are all the satellite dishes outside houses.  Most of these places don't have running water or toilets but they all have a dish to allow them to watch television.  Drivng through Laos all of the villages perched on the edge of the mountain roads have their dishes outside:

Even when we stayed at the gers in Mongolia the family had a tv in their ger and the man who came out with the horses watched films in his ger in between rides.

More musings when there is a bit more time.  Off for a shower  now before our epic bus ride.

TTFN

Jx





Days 111-114: Dali to Luang Prabang

This post begins extra early on day one of four long drive days with three bush camps in between.

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Another clear day, we had good views of the beautiful mountain scenery in this part of China. Here too, all but the steepest and craggiest acreage has been cleared of its dense foliage, terraced and cultivated.
Thanks to the good toll roads, tunnels and viaducts, Will was able to put a lot of kilometres behind us, but was unable to find anywhere for up to stop, camp and cook for the night. As night began to fall - and we resigned ourselves to cooking in the dark - he even tried a fire station by the mouth of one of the tunnels. It had a garden and would have been perfect, but they weren't able to oblige us. Maybe the idea of us starting a fire to cook on went against us. Could have been embarrassing for them if it had got out of hand, I suppose.

Next he tried a service station, but they said no too. That was also a pity, since it would have ruled out cooking entirely, open fires being particularly poor bedfellows with petrol pumps. Now well after dark, Will was just about to try a nearby town to see if there was a hostel or similar, when he and Jonny, who was on the same trip last year, found the spot where they camped last time: right next door to a graveyard. No bother from the neighbours at least.

With plenty of help from the others (and a small quantity of diesel) we soon had a fire going and dinner - a bean casserole - on its way. About an hour and a half later, we were washing up and deciding where to sleep: Juli on the truck (too warm); me under it (a bit chilly).

***

The next morning, Adam and Corinne were up even earlier than we were to help with breakfast. So quickly did Adam and I get the fire going again and the kettle boiled, that breakfast was ready, taken and put away again even earlier than usual, which meant being able to get going earlier too.

Continuing our journey through the mountains, this time seen through the morning mist, we entered yet another tunnel, but emerged on the other side into what might just as well have been another world: the sun was shining, the terraces were now planted with tea bushes and, a little later on, the white sap of rubber trees was being tapped.

When we stopped for lunch at a service station - thanks again, George - we saw bananas, coconuts, lychees and pineapples being sold from small stalls at the edge of the forecourt, the weather was decidedly warmer and more humid and I realised that we'd now travelled sufficiently far south to have crossed the Tropic of Cancer.

All around us, in amongst the rubber trees where banana plants and we saw signs like 'Elephant Vale' and 'Elephant Watch Post'. Even the regular road signs advising drivers to keep their distance or not to drink and drive featured elephants, pink ones in the case of the latter.

At about four o'clock, Will turned off the road and into what I'd have to say was quite a nice quarry, but a quarry nonetheless. This early stop was so George could lead that night's cook group (augmented by a willing band of helpers) in whipping up a feast of no less than six dishes, including a soup, to mark his last night with our group, for tomorrow we were to cross out of China. It's just as well we stopped early, as preparing and cooking this banquet took no less than four hours. Mind you, there were no complaints once the food arrived: it was delicious and all cooked on an open fire in the middle of nowhere.

***

The next morning we drove straight for the Laos border, which turned out only to be another hundred or so kilometres from where we'd camped. The crossing itself was pretty easy and not especially lengthy.
Waving goodbye to George and China, we drove on into country number 21 the Lao People's Democratic Republic - capital: Vientiane; population: about 6.5 million; currency: the Kip (and they do know the value of a kip, let me tell you); time zone: GMT+7, so we had to put our watches back an hour.

Immediately, you know you're in a different country: somehow it's all a bit more raggedy. The roads were a bit more bumpy, the terraces less well defined and the greenery much more mixed than in China. Our journey too was less smooth. Somewhere along the way we took a wrong turn, which meant back-tracking quite a few kilometres and missing out our habitual lunch stop. Lunch (leftovers from the feast - quite a lot of them) was instead taken on the go in the back of the swinging truck, which was moving at speed in an attempt to make up the lost time. Next was a stop to change tyres. An unevenly worn one from the front, which was making driving difficult, was moved to replace the previously patched one on the back, which had gone from having a slow puncture to having no air sooner than expected, and the last good spare was put on the front.

We drove through small villages of houses on sticks with much more steeply pitched roofs than in China and covered with grass or bamboo shingles instead of clay tiles.

Driving on along steep and winding mountain roads, we eventually stopped - after dark again - on a small patch of land not much more than a layby by the side of the road and set to returning Adam and Corinne's favour by helping them to prepare their evening meal, pasta with a tuna sauce, if you want to know.

***

Breakfast the next day was pushed back to after sunrise. Welcome as this was, sadly the reason was less about allowing us to enjoy our breakfast than being able to change yet another wheel in the daylight.
Once the wheels were changed, including using our one remaining, 'to-be-used-only-as-an-absolute-last-resort' spare, a bumpy drive took us to a small town called Nongkhiaw, where some of us caught a slow boat to Luang Prabang. There, we met up with the others at our hostel and home for the next three nights, about which more next time.

TTFN - N

Days 104–110: Chengdu to Lijiang & Dali

In which we change wheels, go shopping, celebrate two birthdays and enjoy some lovely meals.

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Days 104 – 106 (Chengdu to Lijiang)

After a delayed start to change another flat tyre, we made our now expected slow exit from the city and headed off on our way towards Lijiang. First on the itinerary, however, was the giant standing Buddha carved out of a river cliff at Leshan. On the way into Leshan, Will spotted somewhere to buy a replacement battery for the truck, something he's been looking out for since three more of the utility batteries – the ones that power the fridge, run the internal lights and allow us to charge all our 'essential' 21st century gadgets as we go – went the foul eggy smelling way of the first one. Since it was more or less lunchtime and there was a street cafe nearby, We tagged along with Feng (our British-Chinese truckmate) who proceeded to translate and negotiate for us a most delicious lunch of noodles in a spicy pork sauce and all manner of side dishes for a highly reasonable sum. I'd have to say that for Juli and me, thanks to Feng, sitting around a table with our truckmates, enjoying this impromptu but excellent meal on the side of the road was one of the highlights of our second visit to China.

After lunch, we parked up close to the park on the edge of which the Giant (or 'Grand' as they call it) Buddha sits. Juli and I saw it last time, but I don't remember the park nor all the temples, pagodas, other buildings and gardens in it. We bought a ticket that let us wander through the park and took our time exploring some of the sights there, because we knew we wouldn't be needing the time to climb down (and up again afterwards) the hundreds of steps from his head to his feet, just the big toenails of which are large enough for six people to stand on at once.

Now, we were meant to bush camp this evening, which, as you know, has not proven to be our favourite aspect of this bit of the trip, so you can imagine our enthusiasm when George (our minder) announced that he knew a man at a monastery near Emeishan that has cheap guest accommodation and would we like to stay there instead of bushcamping. (I don't think George likes bushcamping either.)

We arrived at the Baoguo Temple and Monastery after dark. I helped the cook group (one of whom had done his back in helping with the wheel change that morning) set up the kitchen in the monastery's car park and get our meal ready, while Juli went into the temple to find our rooms. I have to say, I felt a little uncomfortable walking through a working monastery past where monks and lay Buddhists were chanting and banging instruments and so forth and staying in guestrooms intended, I imagine, for visitors to come and learn about and practice Buddhism. It was clearly an act of worship and not a concert and I felt like an interloper. Then again, I'm never that comfortable around organised religion or overtly religious people. Juli, on the the other hand, had a different take on the experience:

Apart from just huge excitement at the prospect of having a bed and not having to see where Will would stop for the night, the idea of staying in a monastery was marvellous. We were given tickets as if we were visiting but it was after dark and all the temples were being closed up. We still had to make our way through each courtyard as you do when you visit during the day, but when we got to one of the temples with five huge statues of Buddha, we were taken through side doors to the guest rooms. These were quite sparse but clean and there were toilets and showers at the ends of each side corridor.

As Nick said, when we arrived there was a late service happening with chanting and drumming and bells. There were a group of elderly women praying with the monks. I love the sound of this and sat and listened quietly for a while. After supper, outside in the car park, we came back in to bed. Most of the lights had been turned off but there were still candles lit and I think it had a magical atmosphere.

At 4am the monks rose and began their early prayers. This sound echoed through the whole place and woke us up. We lay in bed for a while listening then Nick had to get up to help with breakfast and I went again to watch the monks. Another wonderful experience. When we left it was only just getting light and so the photos of the event are not very good but I have the pictures in my mind. Apparently you can stay for as long as you like so maybe one day another trip for a week or so would be good, then we could see a bit more of the day to day running of the place.

***

The next morning – Corinne's birthday – after waking to the sound of more chanting, this time to a rapid and urgent drum beat that started at 4.30am, we had a quick breakfast and left before sunrise to continue our drive towards Lijiang.

It was misty and drizzly all day which meant we couldn't see any of the (probably) stunning scenery as we drove through more long tunnels (one more than 10Km long) and over endless viaducts. Will drove on long after the sun had set on increasingly poor roads through very un-picturesque mining towns. As we past huge refineries with blazing gas flares and monstrous power stations, it was like driving through the set of some dystopic, futuristic sci-fi movie.

We ended up camping just off the road on a piece of muddy waste ground the truck had trouble getting into because it was so slippery and having a quick supper of fried eggs and tinned tomatoes on toast. Juli just wanted to sleep on the truck, but last time she did that, she got no sleep and had a terrible bad back the next day. We did put the tent up in the end and it was probably just as well, as it was still damp from the last time we'd used it and getting a bit whiffy. I managed to dry the inside with toilet paper, but it rained in the night, so the outside stayed wet (and went away again wet the next morning). Not happy campers. If she'd had a pair of ruby slippers, Juli would have been clicking her heels and saying 'There's no place like home.'

***

Up and away again before sunrise on not so good roads through misty murk, again.

Late morning, we got another puncture, though fortuitously just down the road a bit from a tyre repair shop and cafe, so, while some of us set about getting the punctured tyre off, another gang got a couple of the spares down. Unfortunately, the spares turned out to be unusable, so were donated – with wheels – to Mr tyre-and-cafe who set about repairing the freshly punctured one, which turned out to need and old patch replaced at the same time. While that was going on, Mrs tyre-and-cafe was doing a roaring trade in pot noodles. At one point, nearly all of us were squeezed into her tiny cafe, sheltering from the rain, which had come to join in the fun.

 

Tyre repaired, re-inflated – that's a whole other tale – and reinstated, we set off again. By now, the rain had stopped and the sun was out, which meant we could at last enjoy the fabulous mountain scenery. Mind you, it also meant being able to see the sheer drops to the side of the mountain road as we twisted and turned up and over the top and down into Lijiang.

Originally, we were scheduled to spend a third night bushcamping in or on the way to Tiger Leaping Gorge on the other side of Lijiang, do some hiking then come back to Lijiang the next day for two nights. However, having weighed the cost of the diesel for the extra three hours there and three more back versus the cost of an extra night's accommodation, a vote was taken and the group elected to stay in Lijiang for three nights, with those who wanted to hike taking a minibus to the gorge. No need to state which way our vote was cast.

Lijiang is very pretty and quite touristy, especially so when we were there around Chinese National Day, a major holiday here. That evening – which should have been our turn to cook – we went out to explore the old town and ended up sharing a traditional Naxi hot-pot meal with some of our truckmates. You start with a large bowl of pork ribs in a spicy sauce to share, and when the ribs are gone, the bowl (including remaining sauce) is heated and used to build a sort of brothy soup into which various other dishes are added according to your preference. Again, Feng led the way and helped us choose and order all the various dishes and we had a great time sharing a delicious meal.

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Days 107 & 108 (Lijiang)

We got up pretty late this morning and, after a quick bite of breakfast, I put our laundry in while Juli went for a haircut. When she came back we set out again to explore the old town, which is a rabbit warren of tiny lanes and alleyways, now populated almost exclusively by identikit souvenir shops, inns and restaurants. In an attempt to escape the crowds – very few western faces, by the way – we headed up hill towards a pagoda, which dominates the town bellow, for a bit of quiet calm. We discovered that, far from being some ancient temple of a similar vintage to the old town, although it looks old, it was in fact built in 1997 and the inside is mostly given over to an art gallery. I guess they decided that what their almost-perfect olde-worlde tourist town needed was a touring landmark above it to light up at night.

***

After all our walking the day before (and some particularly noisy late-night arrivals to the hostel) we had another lazy day, or rather I did; Juli went out again with Corinne – a very bad influence, I've decided – in search of a clothes market, while I stayed at home, fetched our wet tent from the truck, put it up to dry, collected our laundry, folded our laundry, put away our now dry tent and blogged. A man's work is never done.

That evening, we went out for a veggie meal with Adam (vegetarian) and Corrine (not a vegetarian, but used to going veggie) plus Sandy (also a vegetarian) at a steak restaurant we went to the previous evening that also does Chinese food and has an extensive veggie menu. This was followed by yet more late night shopping. I tell you, these tourist towns are positively hazardous to your wallet.

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Days 109 & 110 (Lijiang to Dali)

South a bit from Lijiang is Dali, which sits by a lake and also has a picturesque old town, this one walled. Though not far on the map, the drive was slow and largely uninspiring through heavy traffic, so we didn't get there until the afternoon. After checking in, we set off to find the bank to draw more cash (thanks to all the clothes shopping in Lijiang) and the post office to send off some parcels, then back to the bank to draw more cash, because the posting had been so expensive.

After a bit of aimless wandering through the old town – bigger, noisier, not as quaint and even more touristy than Lijiang – we got into a bit of a 'traffic' jam as pedestrians and small, motorcycle-based, three-wheeled pickup trucks competed with each other for right-of-way through the narrow streets, made even narrower by tables set in front of a cluster of restaurants on opposite sides of the road. Eventually we gave up and sat down at one of them only to be shown menus written entirely in Chinese. (This is a tourist town, remember.) In the end we got up and plunged back into this river of men and machines, heading for the other side of the street and another cafe with English writing out side it. This turned out to be a good call and we were soon enjoying our choices, watching local life pass by from safe distance.

This day was Feng's – I'm sure she won't mind me mentioning this – 23rd birthday, and that evening we assembled downstairs at the hostel – Juli looking particularly lovely in a full-length, Chinese-style, navy-blue dress purchased the same day – to walk to a very smart restaurant which had been recommended to Feng by the hostel's receptionist. Feng had reserved a private room for us and pre-ordered a selection of dishes – her favourites, of course – to be followed by a birthday cake (organised by Gayle that day) in the shape of a Panda's face, complete with chocolate-button ears and nose. Yet another great meal and evening, all thanks, again, to Feng. She'll go far, that girl.

***

Brunch this morning at yesterday's teatime refuge followed by shopping for our deferred cook duty tomorrow. We thought we'd got away without having to cook due to the last minute extra night in Lijiang on our originally scheduled cook night for which we had already shopped. However, we were soon disabused of this happy thought and had to replace the now perished food. To make matters worse, the gas ran out during the last cook group's breakfast duty, so we will have to cook on wood as Will won't buy anymore gas. Still, this should be the last time we'll have to do this, and Adam and Corinne have said they'll help in exchange for reciprocal help when their turn comes around.

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So now, here I am, sat on the floor (Juli's hand washing is hanging in front of the desk) of our very nice private en-suite (we upgrade where we can) hostel room writing this post while Juli is out taking more photos of pagodas. Tomorrow we begin a four day (three bushcamp) journey to Luang Prabang in country number 21: Laos. Not that I'm wishing the trip away, but after that there are only two or three more bushcamps to Singapore and cruise luxury. (One day at a time.)

TTFN – N