Look both ways, then walk anyway

After finally making back onto the worn trail of Vietnam, I think the first thing everyone noticed about was the impossibility of crossing the road. The are litterally nearly as many bikes as there are people in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi, and it seems at rush hour every single one of them is out and on the same stretch of road as the one you want to make it over.

Crossing is easier than it looks though, but it is worth noting that rather than brakes, Vietnamese bikers prefer to use the horn instead. Essentially you edge nearer to the band of traffic as you prepare mentally to step out. Then before you've taken the plunge, one bike will career round the back of you followed by several more and before you've stepped anywhere, you're in the middle of the traffic. There's not much left to do now but keep walking slowly and only stop for cars and busses, the bikes will always mangae to dodge you...you hope. Upon reaching the halfway mark it's time to rapidly switch you attention to the other direction and continue forward. Never ever go back. Nearing the other side, don't celebrate making it alive until you're actually on the pavement. No matter how near to it you are, one stray bike will always cut infront of you and encourage others to do the same, putting you back in the middle of the traffic once more.

If you can bare to take your eyes off the rows on 10 strong mopeds coming at you, it is advisable to try and look both ways. You wouldn't expect anything to be coming at you from the left with a herd of bikes speeding forward from the right, but there will be at least 5 bikes going the wrong way in the wrong lane. Nobody gets hurt though, organised chaos just seems to work here.

Good Morning Vietnam!

Sorry, had to start at least one post with this title. I'd been concious that it's been a few days or so since I updated this blog, but signing in now I realise it's been more like two weeks. Vietnam is that good my 13 days between Saigon and Hanoi have felt like a weekend break. Normally I update this when I can, and when travelling with people it's harder to find time, meaning I just have to do it during the night when the others are sleeping. But I've been lucky to have some great company whilst in a fantastic country, that when everyone's asleep, even the last of the Aussies, the remaining Brits didn't let the side down making the most of just about every hour in each place. I honestly averaged about 2 hours sleep a night and got less on a couple of occasions. Peddling around the streets is great fun, even better night, especially when motoped taxi's accept you don't need a ride so cruise along beside you offering noodle soup instead!

As I always seem to end up saying about each new country I visit, Vietnam has to be the best place I've been so far (not counting Russia of course), but this time I think I'll stick to it, it's really going to take some beating. I hope there's more to my praise for 'Nam than just the fact that everywhere I look there's red, yellow, stars, hammers and sickles...I love that! It makes me feel a little like being back in Russia, just a tad warmer. I've been away quite a while now and lost touch with current events back home, so fingers crossed the UK have adopted an entirly red version of the Union Jack and maybe even got themselves a little gold star and hammer & sickle to put on there somewhere too!

Meet the group

Let me introduce my new travel buddies that joined me, or I them, on Vietnam's Reunificationh Express. From left to right, top to bottom, Joe, Kirk, Me, Lynn, Phil, Jo, Erin, Susen (the rock), Natasha, Sarah and Ngon (the group leader). I’ll give an honourable mention to Joe as the only other UK representative in a group that otherwise hails entirely from Australia. Out-numbered for a change!

I'll also give a special mention to Susen. She doesn’t exist, although it took everyone, including our leader, a good few hours on the first day to deduce this. In her place we retrieved a head shaped rock from an island off Nha Trang, gave it a face and lovingly carried the new ‘Susen’ everywhere we went from then on. With the tour over, Susen will travel back south with our Ngon and her next group until she reaches her resting place back on the island.

And last but not least, there is one missing member of the group from this picture, but I think he deserves his own post.

I do love trains

It's been a while since a did a train journey of any reasonable distance, but right now I'm happy because I'm at the start of Vietnam's Reunification Express railway in Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it's more commonly known here. I'll get a few nights on the train as it makes it's way north to Hanoi. And I must be getting bored of myself because I decided to find a tour to join for the 10 day trip to gain myself some consistant companionship. The group of 10 is great and I think it's fair to say that in the 24 hours I've spent with them, they've not been a bad influence in the slightest...oh, apart from the AK47 I shot yesterday (which broke whilst in my control)!

Plucked

I think this chicken doesn't have the brightest of futures.

The Road to Vietnam

I'm getting so acustomed to the moped way that it has suddenly become my first mode of transport, and even sitting side-saddle through the middle of a busy free-for-all junction doesn't seem dangerous anymore. Admittedly however, I was a little nervous before my first experience and, like I was his mother or something, gave my driver a pre-departure talking to. "Now you don't go too fast. And we both wear helmets Ok? And I want you to pick a side of the road and stick to it. And absolutely no crazy overtaking. Do you understand? Don't just smile and nod at me...I'm serious, do you understand?" But with a couple of trips under my belt, it was time for to embark on the road to Vietnam. I'm assured, and can full well believe, that a 5-seat taxi will be filled with at least eight other paople, so really the only way to get myself from the sleepy Cambodian town of Kampot, across the border into Vietnam, is by moped. I'm skeptical on how ideal it is having my big bag with me as well as my daypack, but this is never going to be a problem to a true South-East Asian, so moped it is. Besides, it's the only fitting way to arrive into the land of scooter.

After a little less than two hour trip along roads that were laking in the 'flat' department, I did manage to enter Vietnam without any real issue, but getting to where I wanted to be after took more effort. To start with, this is the quietest border I've seen. Newly opened last year, I was the only tourist switching coutries when I arrived, and probably the first for days if the amount of time it took the official to scroll through the dates on his stamp is anything to go by. On the otherside I'm met by a new moped driver and a hotel owner from the near by Ha Tien, who's been waiting patiently for some pray to arrive (that's me). A further 30 minutes on the bike got me into the town where it's still laking in a Western moral support for me. I seemed to have two options, one is stay at the guys hotel and get the morning bus out, the other is pay the same guy to drive me to a town where I can catch a lunch time bus to my chosen destination. I'm sure there are more busses that he's not telling me about, but what can I do?! Having two minutes to myself to explore or think isn't an option so I just opt to leave immediately on a further hours bike ride to a lovely coastal area with plenty of scenic views of Southern Vietnam.

The town isn't so captivating though. Apparently the caves are beautiful, but the 'Vegas' style neon lit buddhas inside did little to enhance their surroundings. The people in Vietnam however, so far are lovely. The second I crossed the border I'm happy to see everyone is wearing comical (conical...I mean conical) hats and amazed at almost how instatly the scenery has changed. The people are so lovely in fact, that whilst waiting for my bus at the offical clearing under the big tree, a group of locals are more than welcoming for me to join them as they strap blades to chicken's legs before commencing with the cock fight itself. Not keen to watch, they brought to show me the deceased bird, which was actually a nice, if not unwanted, gesture.

My (mini)bus arrives and on I got for what I'm certain was a hugely inflated price, with a pile more Vietnamese than what will comfortably fit. Still far from the beaten path they are curious by me, and even I am now. How did I end up here? It doesn't matter, in five hours I should be at Can Tho, the heart of the Mekong Delta, I hope. Shattered, I attempt to sleep but am suddenly snapped back to conciousness by a sharp and loud buzzing sound. My eyes open to see the iron age fan close above my head to the left, and to the right, a vietnamese women looking horrified at her now slightly mangled finger. What did she just do and why was her hand there anyway?! Hearing the sound of obstructions in the fan blade, everyone in the bus is looking at me and saying stuff I don't understand. The women continues to stare dazed at her finger. Soon lots of shrill voices are discussing something very loudly and gestures are made at me towards the fan. Seeing some loose wires I contemplate the possibility of the women having got electrocuted maybe. The vietnamese continue to look at me hopefully and pointing to the fan and I think maybe they want me to switch it off so I reach out to discover whether the button in the middle is a switch or bolt. This is met with screams and yells as they all shake they're arms as ALL communicate 'no'! But still they look at me and then the point to the fan expectantly whilst my neighbour continuse to gaze at her bloody finger baffled, but I don't know what they want from me so minme my hand getting severed before closing my eyes and going back to sleep.

Sleep isn't long lived as nearing the Mekong Delta the roads conditions demonstrate that this bus really has no suspension. Litterally being lifted quite high of my seat, I still hold the possibility of getting electricuted in my mind and just an overal fear of the fan, that I wide eyed I sit doing my best to wedge myself down and avoid hitting my head on the 'windmill of death' that is getting dangerously close...much to the amusement of the other passengers! Absolutely done in by my long day the mini bus collides with something before I'm dropped off and taken to my heotel on one last moped ride.

The mission was worth it I guess, I achieved another 4am start (in a powercut) to make it to the floating markets before sunrise. The markets are cool, boats generally specialise in one product and fill their boat to overfill with it. They then hang one product high on a mast so shoppers can identify the floating stalls they require. The rest of the water ways are beautiful too, really what I'd imagine floating through narrower parts of the Amazon to be like, very junglefied. The water trails are the center of life here and it's nice to see how families work and dependend on such natural resources. The people continue to be as friendly as ever and all appear welcoming as the whole way, various kids appear and run along side waving for short distances.

You know you're a backpacker when...

...just having bread for dinner seems excessive, you find yourself 'borrowing' toilet roll from your last hotel, loosing track of $5 is devastating, and you discover you're not the only one living out of your backpack.

I guess I'm off to by some insect killer now, I feel like the Pied Piper of ants!

I need a holiday

I suspect this post won't generate me much sympathy, but travelling is actually really hard work. So before tackling Vietnam, I decided a day or two of nothing was in order and headed for Cambodia's beaches at Sihanoukville. I heard it can't compare to the those of Southern Thailand, but it'll have to do.

Women Rule

I was in Cambodia for Women's Day, and the lady that ran my guesthouse seemed really excited by it, but when I asked what happens on such a great day, she said "nothing". Good, I'll look forward to that then!

The Pyjama People

Everywhere I've been going recently, particulary in Cambodia, the women all seem to wear mostly PJs. Often with the obligatory kiddy style patterns that I'm getting to know so well (don't think I've stayed in a room yet over the past 4 weeks that didn't somewhere have kids cartoon charactors adorned on either the sheets, blankets or curtains). I have no idea why, although a late night walk through Phnom Penh demonstrated that those who work on the streets, such as venders and drivers, all sleep there two. Around most posts and trees on even the main roads, you'll find a hammock. I even saw a moped driver having a lovely sleep whilst balanced precariously across the top of his bike. But anyway, I don't think this is the reason for the jim-jams.

(The picture isn't great but as a quick snap works well enough. There were three pyjama clad women in the shot and I was made up to see a forth had zoomed into frame from the left!)

Phnom Penh

Following my time in Siem Reap, I had to keep moving so made Cambodia's capitol, Phnom Penh my next stop. The journey there was one of the best so far. In the public bus, a little girl's ticket had positioned her next to me, with her mother and toddler sister in the seats behind. Having my valuables with me in a backpack, I was hopeful the local family would move and spread out as soon as the bus got going so I could take my heavy bag off my lap. Instead, both little girls thought they'd actually quite like to squeeze in next to me for the 5 hour ride, which was lovely, incredibly comfortable and not at all annoying to see the rest of the bus was more than half empty. I also certainly didn't find it at all unnerving to have the two girls stare at me the whole way and give the occasional, gentle poke to my leg or arm! The trip only improved when another family got on, a man with two kids of similar ages, and sat in front of me. The older of the two, the girl, leant over the back of her chair to have a look at regular intervals whilst the un-nappied little boy found he couldn't wait any longer and the bus quickly filled with a horrific smell and a terrible mess appeared. Joy!

Pleased to arrive, I was of course was unable to reason with any tuk-tuk driver to take me anywhere but a guesthouse they were affiliated with, so fast gave up the fight and went to check it out. Actually it was nice, a rustic, stilted set of huts and outdoor lounge area perfectly positioned to watch the sunset across the city's lake. A place to rival some of the higher level of accomodations, only let down by having to sit up most of the night in my room on rat patrol. I could hear them directly under my floorboards and one in particular that was determined to gain entry to my bathroom via the drain. Still, at just $4 a night, it's a small price to pay.

Phnom Penh is the first capital I've been to for a long time that I've actually been pleased to see. It could be that Cambodia is still so far from developed that it just doesn't feel like a city, but I think it's more than that. The atmosphere is good, calm and welcoming, somehow more than anywhere else. It's hard not to be happy being here. What is amazing is that for a place that's so positive, it probably has the worst recent history of anywhere I know of. Cambodia, still littered with US landmines will suffer for many years to come as result. Walking off the path out of the towns poses a very real danger you finding (and detonating) one for yourself. You won't need to be in the country long before realise amputies are a surprisingly regular sight. But on top of that, now in the capitol, I can learn more about more tremendous suffering to the Khmer people at the hands of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge.

I find it hard to comprehend how things like the Holocaust could happen in an era in history so close to the lifetime of my parents. Learning more about what happened with the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, very nearly in my lifetime, is something that to me is almost impossible to understand. I won't give a fall rundown of the history, but essentially Pol Pot lead his people to take control of Cambodia, killing (not before torturing) millions as he went, clearing the city of Phnom Penh. Anyone from large towns or cities were considered to be affected by the modern world and were likely to face a brutal end. Only those that were convincing as low in intelligence might survive, but would be classed lower than the peasent workers from the fields that were felt to be 'pure' in mind. All would be sent to the countryside as slaves to produce an impossible quoter of rice intended for world trade. Even doctors and nurses were believed too intelligent to be spared and the Khmer Rouge to gave the roles of medical practitioners to the illiterate, untrained peasents.

This reign of terror lasted four years until the Vietnamese invaded, although amazingly, the Khmer Rouge still had a hold of regions until 1998. Anyway, something that makes this history even more remarkable is that with a quater of the population dieing at the hands of this movement, any Cambodian over 30 will undoubtably have been seriously affected by this time, some were the victims, others were the Khmer Rouge, and all have to live side by side seamlessly.

I took a trip to the Choeung Ek (The Killing fields), the most notorious of many that can be found across Cambodia. Here, 131 mass graves of the 200,000 (and counting) across the country have been found. Victims were regulary delivered to this site by truck from places such as Toul Sleng Security Prison 21, a 're-education center' that existed for interrigation and torture. Many bodies, men, women and children, were found beheaded, naked or tied up. The whole area was silent, unlike the mausoleum of Lenin or Mao, visitors here are genuninely sobered by the experience as the walk between deep recesses of excuvated graves, past 'killing trees' against which people were beaten, and step over rags of disguarded clothes that appear out of the dirt paths. The bones of excuvated bodies have been piled within a white tower to stand as a monument to all that lost their lives here.

Thinking it best to have one depressing day rather than split it across two, I headed back into Phnom Penh center to see the Toul Sleng Security Prison 21 (S21) that now operates as a genocide museum. Once a primary school in a quiet neibourhood, it was taken over April 17th, 1975 at the start of Khmer Rouge's reign of terror, and was transformed into a primitive prison and house of torture. Now it stands almost exactly as it was, with the 14 disfigured bodies found left in rooms after the guards fled, now burried in the front courtyard. Walking through 4 3-story buildings, I saw classrooms and hurridly built cells, all full of evidence of unimaginable tortures. It's a surprisingly big place that takes several hours to take in, again full of silence. It's only made worse by walking past other fully functioning schools in the area, and realising aside from a distinct lake of barbed wire coating, it looks no different to S21, and makes me wonder what this scene would have looked like 30 years ago had it undergone the same transformation.

Trust no-one

Forgot to mention, at Angkor, even the monks want a piece of the action. This one here took money off me unjustly after leading me to a dark temple corner. Not knowing whether dodgy monks have 'heavies', I assumed it best to pay up. And it wasn't because I took a picture of him. I took the picture because I knew he was about to make me part with cash. I think he's a bad monk.

Natural born sellers

One of the few downsides to Cambodia is the constant harassment by the local kids selling stuff, particulary at the Angkor temples. Each and every time anyone emerges from a ruins they are met buy anything from 1 to 6 kids heading towards them fast. Instantly they go for the kill and you'll soon find yourself surrounded with handfulls of bracelets, books and postcards blocking your vision with the constant calls of "One dollar, one dollar. You want? One dollar, one dollar" going through you head. A simple no thanks and speedy direct walk away will not be enough to detere them either, they're hard little people to shake. I heard of one couple buying something so the kids would leave them alone, but actually it just made the rest more determined and even attracted more. Driving away in their tuk-tuk, the only way the extra children could think to get the couples attention was run after them throwing things at their vehicle, no doubt shouting "One dollar, one dollar" as they did!

Match that with the adults sales technique. Whilst the kids are spread out doing their thing, the mums are based at their bamboo shack stalls. Approaching a row of stalls you'll enjoy silence before getting within a 10 metre radius of a women will snap her into action. "Lady! You want cold drink?! One dollar lady!". A few more steps and you enter into the action zone of the next stall and the two voices begin drilling into you. Continue walking and easily you can set 10 women off all at once. It's only worse when you do actually need a drink and have to face them. They all compete to practically put the water in your hand and take your money before you understand what's just happened. Indeed, walking past a food area, I'm instantly surrounded and handed about 5 menus all at once. I feel like a teacher grading each one, asking who's it is and feeling as though I should make a positive comment about it before returning it. "Who's is this one? It's very good. And this one? Who's is this? Very nice..." Stupid thing being I didn't even want food, just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. One lady knew exactly how to deal with the sleepy sunrise tourists. Somehow she'd got me to agree something I liked in theory, then instatlty put the shout through to the cook. I'm left conpletely dazed sat at a table waiting for a breakfast I didn't realise I'd ordered or want. Other tourists smiled with empathy as they sat eating meals they probably hadn't planned on either.

The kids however are something else. Having woken up a bit I'm ready for them, and on the most part the hassle I get doesn't last too long per child. But every now and then one will surprise me. Asked if I want a bracelet, then postcards and then cold drinks, I respond 'no thank you' each time. "So you want nothing?" she says, and I agree wholeheartedly. "Nothing costs 10 dollars". Damn it! She made me laugh so now I'm in trouble. She reals me off a pile of facts about London that I didn't know. Things like the population and such. I'm holding steady though and am not happy to enter into a repour with her, it's a trick. Next she hands me a bracelet that I refuse over and over insisting I have no plans to buy from her. "If you don't take it, it means you don't like me". Damn it again! She's tugged on the heartstrings and now I have to take it. Finally she leaves me be for half hour on the agreement that if suddenly I do feel the need for postcards, bracelets or cold drinks, she's the first person I'll go see.

Unfortuantly, my attempts to sneak back to my tuk-tuk are scarpered as she spies me. She turns up the sales patter and I'm left apologising again and again for not wanting anything. It was horrible, she really guilt tripped me with "Sorry isn't going to help me go to school" and insisted she understood that I didn't need a drink so encouraged me to by for my driver. I'm walking away as fast as I can making pathetic excuses to the 10 year old like "my driver's waiting for me" rather than being strong enough to just be blunt. She hits back with "He can wait. You're paying him". Damn it once more! She's right. I'm nearly running by the end as she accepts I don't want postcards but tells me to buy for my friends. Eventually I escape but feel terrible about myself. I'm a bad person because tomorrow she won't go to school (but she will, she's smarter than me already), I didn't get my driver a drink (but I was already paying him too much and I gave him half a pack of cookies) and because my friends don't mean enough to me for me to buy them a few postcards (but my friends don't want postcards...I don't think). Anyway, that girl was good.

In the city their tact is simpler. In a cafe, they'll just pull up a chair right next to and repeat over and over and over "Buy a book. Buy a book. Buy a book. Buy a book and I'll go away. Buy a book..." whilst sometimes squeezing your arm with each repeat. This is followed by them personally reccomending each book in their basket before getting frustrated and not excepting that simply not wanting a book is a valid excuse, unless they do, in which case they switch to "Buy me food. Buy me food. Buy me food." Grrrrrrrrrr!

Temple'd out

As you'll have gathered, I made it to Cambodia, and first stop was Siem Reap. Despite a shakey start in the country, I actually reaaly like Cambodia. I don't think it can be compared to Russia, they're a world away from each other, but otherwise certainly has had the best impression on me so far. Siem Reap was a lovely place and everything seems all good, although it is another country with a currency to mess with my head. I'm now dealing in Riel, which again works in stupidly high denominations, 4000r to 1US Dollar. Not that this matters much, all transactions are quoted and made in dollars, and cash machines dispense nothing else. Generally, but not always, riel only comes into play for amounts less than the dollar and change will be provided in the form of a mix of both currencies which is always fun. The weirdest thing about money here is no-one ever has change, no matter how little an amount is owed, the tender will always have to run off next door to gather more funds. I've also found a note of $20 or more is nearly always impossible to use, which makes it annoying when ATMs here happily dish out bills of $50s and $100s.

Accomodation here has improved significantly too compared to the cells of Bangkok where I was lucky if I could find something as simple as a power outlet in my room. Now $5 a night will sort me out with somewhere with a bit of charactor, a private bathroom, cable TV and free internet. And although the living quarters were still real basic, the attached bar was one of the best. A barn style shell filled with railingless open platforms of seating and hammock areas scattered upto 3 stories high. At the bottom there's a crocodile pit. I read there were ducks there too, but I didn't see any, I think maybe the crocodiles could be to blame. This isn't a safe place to get drunk, but an amazing place to drink.

Aside from arriving to a very nice change from Bangkok and enjoying a small layed back town full of inviting restaurants/bars/cafes, and finding every local super friendly (eating at one family run pavement cafe, we were unable to leave until we all hi-fived the family's young boy and waved back to them all down the street until we'd turned a corner), I was here mostly to see the temples of Angkor. I feel I should say something about them, but I'm not sure what. Feeling templed-out after having them in my life since mongolia, the grandure of Angkor couldn't disappoint, even after a straight 8 hour stint there(and a painful early morning). With my own personal tuk-tuk driver (and tuk-tuk) for the day, I must have visited more than 10 of the temples and although feeling done by the end, I could have seen more. Each temple was different, from the world renowned image of Angkor Wat to the Lara Croft setting of the tree ridden Ta Phrom. Legend has it, there is another temple out there that everyone knows exsists, but no-one quite knows where. I think the idea is that the only people to ever find it have died trying thanks to Cambodia being the most densely landmined country in the world.

Wat horse?

In my attempts to get the perfect(ish) picture of Angkor Wat at dawn, in the low light with my eye to the viewfinder, I wasn't at all caught off-guard to suddenly see this untethered horse skipping straight at me.

Angkor Wat?

I’m using this post to highlight the pride in myself for managing another 4am start to complete one more sun-rise mission, this time to Angkor Wat. Going it alone, with no morale support encouraging me to be awake that early, I hoped not to be able to find transport leaving me no option but to just go back to bed. Unfortunately I did manage to find myself a tuk-tuk driver asleep at the handlebars and for just 8 US dollars and half a packet of cookies, he was mine for the day.

Welcome to Cambodia…no pressure

I’ve left Thailand again for a few weeks, and after a smooth start to the day, stepping over the border into Cambodia changed everything. The plan was simple, bus it from Bangkok to the border, get visa, walk across and get on a new waiting bus to Siem Reap. There are four others making this long but straight forward journey with me, two Chinese girls and two Japanese guys.

Admittedly I probably made a mistake booking myself on this journey at Bangkok’s Khao San Road, an area apparently renowned for the 'scam bus' to Cambodia. The idea being that they leave very early, make you buy your visa through them at an inflated price 100 yards down the road from the border and then take you round in circles most of the rest of the way so that by the time you arrive it’s very late, and you’re too exhausted to look about for accommodation anyway that you just stay at the drivers guest house where he just happens to complete the drive. Luckily I didn't fall fowl to it that too much, but I'm sure there is a scam in my journey somewhere, no one makes it through without being ripped off at least once.

The trouble starts the moment I clear the border. I’m told to sit and wait for the others who are only going to be just a matter of minutes behind, but the moment I do take a seat, one of the two Cambodians that meets me then tells me to get into a waiting minibus. Figuring we’d wait there for the others, I found it odd when the driver sets off straight away with just the two of us. The Cambodian is nice enough and uses the 20 minute journey to tell me a few introductory facts about the country and politely informs about the 2 hour wait for my next bus which is scheduled to leave at 3pm. He explains that he feels it’s his duty to let me know that if I wished, I could get a taxi for 200 Thai Baht (4quid) that would go straight to Siem Reap, afteral, the 3 hour bus ride always has the potential to be held up. No pressure, entirely up to me.

On arriving at the bus terminal, which is more of a desolate and surreal aircraft hanger than a hub of transport, there’s not another soul in there, just some orange chairs dotted about and a large disused bar styled thing in the centre. Looking closely enough at the plain white walls of this sterile looking building could reveal a window and some people behind it. Apparently it is the last Thai Bank to be encountered whilst in the country so I'm encouraged to use it...don‘t know why. It doesn’t look very bank-like to me, and fortunately, as with all the best backpackers, I’ve no money to change anyway. The Cambodian reminds me about the taxi and that I should think about sharing with the others to make it cheaper. No pressure, up to me. The others do arrive not far behind and after a hassled and hot border crossing (not helped by a sudden turn up in the heat here. Bangkok was really starting to hit me, but now just blinking would seem to be enough to break into a sweat) we sound out the taxi but opt to stay with the bus when suddenly we can’t split the cost anymore. Communication isn’t easy between myself and the rest of today’s group, but the Japanese two and I decide to stick to the motion that we’ve already payed for a bus, so will take a bus. The Chinese two plan to do whatever I do.

Sitting happily in our seats both Cambodians took it in turns to approach us and try to convince us that we really do want a taxi, each time adding an hour on to the bus’s journey and making it sound more and more cramped and uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the taxi is getting faster and faster and sounding more and more enjoyable. The two even changed the tones in their voices to corrispond with the happiness of taxi compared to despair of the bus, and I think at one point they even referred to them only as ‘nice comfy taxi‘ and ‘hot cramped bus‘. They were making a good, if not shifty argument though. By the time they were done, the 3 hour journey will now almost certainly take at least 6 hours and realistically most probably won’t get us there till midnight (which would be 9 hours) by bus. The taxi however, will breeze it in less than 2 hours. The bus will be cramped and hot despite there still being a severe lack of people at this terminal to even get on it, whilst the taxi will be comfortable and cool even though they are proposing 5 of us, plus luggage and driver, should all squeeze into one slightly battered Toyota Corola.

More unsuspecting travellers start arriving after being ferried here and looking confused by the destination start wondering around asking where the hell they are and what happened to the actual local bus station. I can even see the odd small group having the taxi argument that I’m still in the middle of. Every time we settle to read our books or write diaries completely unphased by the wait, one of the Cambodians runs over with a new argument and a new pro and con for the two modes of transport and are getting really quite angry with us. Eventually, each time they run over they slash the taxi’s price by half until it’s free (which makes me super suspicious) and in a tone of despairation ask us why we would do this to them like itt's a personal insult. “Why do you insist on the uncomfortable hot bus when we’ve arranged the nice cool taxi? We’re trying to help you.” But no pressure though. Sometimes they’d attempt to call our bluff and leave us to it, but when we didn’t run after them changing our minds, they come storming back even more annoyed with a new suggestion. I’m made key corrospondant and begged to use my better understanding of the English language to reason with the other four, but I’m on their side and certainly don’t trust these two Cambodian’s, there‘s a scam in here somewhere. Things reach boiling point until the parting comment from these guys comes in the form of the shouted words “If you must know, I just want to go see my girlfriend, but now because of you I can’t, so there! Get the bus if you really want, We're going!”, they then actually just sat outside for 20 minutes. Welcome to Cambodia then! None of us want to stand in the way of true love, but if his job is to wait until we’re on the bus then that’s not our fault. The bus left at 2.30pm (not 3pm as promised), was half full, did have air con, and only took the 3 hours claimed despite the 40min toilet break at the driver’s mates restaurant on route and encountering plenty of dodgy or nonexistent roads.

Initially relieved to be on the bus I was then gutted when the friendly chatty coach owner was met with severe hostility from a French a guy near the front creating a mountain of tension. This situation was only going to throw a spanner in works of us ever leaving for Siem Reap anytime soon. Turns out the French guy had been scammed on his journey about 3 times over today so is lacking in patience. Anyway, finally on the way, it would seem our friendly coach owner has a guest house. No pressure, he's just mentioning it. And of course the bus stop happened too be the driveway of his place. And wanting to keep the pressure off, he only mentioned his guesthouse and it’s benefits another fifty times prior to pulling up. Obviously by the time we arrived we were met by a gang of his staff and the invite to look at a room if we were interested became more of a frogmarch around the place with any attempts to leave met with resistance. But still no pressure, up to us. Having now lost the Chinese and Japanese travellers (probably to the guesthouse) I found some others on the bus that shared my desire to find an escape route. We succeeded in finding ourselves a guesthouse of our choice.

Almost Famous

As I cross the tracks and approach the train to take my seat in preparation for my Death Railway Experience, a group of children on the platform a giggling and appear to be taking photos of me. At my seat, with the big window pulled down, all the children are two sets of tracks away, but directly opposite. Now I notice unmistakably that the pink uniformed children, aged around 10, are engrossed in me, most with cameras and finding the situation really amusing. One particular group of girls are more interested than the rest and encourage each other to edge closer to my window, and eventually actually step on board to take photos at point blank range before dashing off. I can’t get my camera out quick enough to snap them in the act.

I’ve not experienced any of this since China, and this is something else anyway, a lot jollier and more upfront. So, feeling kind of like a goldfish, I decide that I'd best wave to them, who are all now back on the platform comparing shots or poised for another Kodak moment in my direction. They love this and cheer, and one girl immediately runs over and tells me I’m beautiful, which I realise will just be a phrase the teacher has told the excited child would be nice to say to me, but it's quite sweet all the same. And as it’s my story, I’ll say they'll all have mistaken me for an A-list celebrity or something, but actually I can guess that with all their cameras they’re probably on a school trip and probably from a town that rarely gets to see real live Westerners in the flesh, only in the movies.

Well this one girl has just been taught another phrase and runs over to ask me my name. The other kids, maybe 50 of them, all watch in anticipation. I introduce myself and reach out to shake her hand. The other kids all cheer. Feeling a little braver, a couple more run other and want to shake hands too. The girl learns another question or two so I feel it’s about time I got my trusty phrase book out, but steer clear of James Bond lines for a change. I love it when this happens! Things soon quieten down for a while but a few more tourists bored the train which keeps the children on edge.

Suddenly about 20 of the kids run over to me with their hands outstretched, so I lean out and shake every one of them, and enjoying it, the kids approach some of the other windows looking for more hands to shake. They're lovely and having a great time and I’m feeling pleased my train is so delayed on leaving. They’re keeping me so entertained that I think it’s only fair I make an effort and approach them for a change. The moment I appear at the train door they all jump up and begin to cheer and clap once more, and as I walk over they get louder and instantly all crowd around me before near on 30 cameras appear in my face. I manage to gather some for a picture, show them the result and shake some more hands before resuming back to my seat. Some of the others on the train look bemused by it all, but us outside have all been having fun so it doesn't matter. The kids pose some more on the platform for any lense they see until their train arrives and they wave goodbye. The End.

The Death Railway

Ok, this post should bring me back in order. I know this sounds like it could be another of my Russian stories, but this one is based in Thailand. The morning Iain and Katrina left for the beaches, I headed 2 hours west to a place called Kanchanaburi. This town has some fantastic natural sights and beautiful waterfalls, but is most famed for being home to the bridge over the River Kwai, and I have come here to add to my list of memorable train rides. The Death Railway is a 415km stretch of PoW-built tracks under Japanese control during the early 1940’s to create a crucial link between Burma and Singapore. The terrain was unforgiving and conditions unlivable, and required over 260,000 men to work on it with little more than picks and shovels. Buy the time the job was complete, over 115,000 had lost their lives.

The afternoon before taking my seat aboard the train, I wondered along the river from the Jolly Frog Guest House, one of the nicer places I’ve had the pleasure of, to the Bridge Over the River Kwai. Many say they feel under whelmed by the construction when they first encounter it, but I enjoyed my visit. Maybe not knowing too much about it, or having seen the film (which was actually shot in Sri Lanka) helped me have no preconceived ideas or expectations. Whatever it was, I found it well worth the trip that wwas otherwise on the way to nowhere.

The bridge consists of train tracks, a solid sheet between them and plenty of places to fall through either side. The concrete pillars still hold scars of war whilst the iron bridge itself looks iconic enough. I spent some time trying to capture a good shot, then as got to the floor between the tracks (think I was experimenting with angles or something), I remembered that I believed this to be an operational line. There are no gates and people are roaming the bridge freely, so I except I was mistaken and decide I’ll find out the route of the train tomorrow when I’m actually on it. 20mins later a train does chug through afteral, but I’m not laying on the tracks anymore and all others that were about get themselves out of the way sharpish, so all's well that ends well.

The death railway was cool, but had a set of carriages that were entirely for tourists, which I’m not used to, all my other train rides have been fully operational local services. Anyway as a result, the atmosphere is different to what I’d prefer but it’s ok. The journey takes 2 hours, which to me felt like 10 minutes, does indeed thunder across the bridge, then squeeze through 90ft solid rock cuttings and cling to a cliff face on a 300 metre trestle bridge. The train only goes are far as Nam Tok where ideally I’d have taken a bus to Hellfire Pass for a 4km walk through one of seven further track rock cuttings that now exists as a memorial walk. Unfortuantly, like in the UK, the train was running 2 hours behind schedual only just allowing me time to make my return journey back to Kanchanaburi by bus in time for me to then get back to Bangkok to pick up a visa by the evening. I think the normal thing is to do is return back on the same train or have a transfer waiting for you at Nam Tok, as the quiet 20min walk through town in search of the bus stop seemed an unusual sight to the locals. Still, I’m proud of myself for managing to actually get off the beaten path, overcome the language barriers and join the confused Thais on the 90min ride back, which was also very late.

Angry Silky Shorts

I decided that I can’t spend time in Bangkok without seeing one of those shows the city is famed for…by that I mean Thai Boxing of course. It was good, though very violent. Someone did get hurt in the making of this picture.

The secret of Laos whiskey

I should have posted this one a little while back but nevermind. Sarah, this one's for you!

Who's bridge?

BeerLao

Apologies for that state of the next few posts. I probably need to rework this but am just giving to you as it stands. I’ve moved on a lot so just need to get myself up to date fast. This is about Laos which is a weeks journey I took prior to reaching Hillsy and Katrina in Bangkok.

Laos was excellent. I only allowed myself a week there which wasn’t enough. I’ve heard the southern parts are beautiful and further north I’d have liked to stuck around longer for some exploring through the country side, the only place that didn’t grab me was the capital, Vientiane. The Mekong aside, one of the first things you’ll notice about this place is BeerLao. Apparently (I, of course, didn't try it)it’s great because they can’t regulate the percentage of alcohol in each can, so your first drink may be quite weak, but the second could floor you (well it’s probably not that bad). Anyway, it’s everywhere and sponsors just about everything, even the BeerLao t-shirt was practically uniform, mostly with tourists but a fair amount of locals and their toddlers too wore them too.

After the yellow and green branding anywhere there’s life, the next thing I noticed were the monks. There’s been lots around these parts but nothing like the army of saffron orange robes that I’ve seen here, particulary in Louang Phabang. And to house these peaceful troops was a ‘Wat’ on nearly every street. Such sights really enhanced the character of Louang Phabang (the final stop on my slowboat voyage) along with the strong French influence that was still evident allowing a relaxed, traditional village and coffee shop culture to shine through. To set it all off finally, the main, and oldest part of town is positioned on a slice of land where the both the Mekong and Khan rivers run nearly parallell either side, hemming it in before finally meeting and joining at the end.

So in Louang Phabang, the mornings are colourful monk-style, and the days are relaxed, but the evenings were my favourite. There’s one main street that comes alive with a night market selling everything but the usual Weston based tat found nearly everywhere else. Chilled people wonder around in the hot evening and get their meals from one of the ‘village fete’ style street buffets, where I too did get my fix of rice and noodles, but mostly I developed a dependency on the fresh fruit smoothies that are readily available all around for next to nothing. The bars are lovely too, really mellow outdoor spaces that suffer one downside. At midnight everything has to shut down and literally the only place left to go is the bowling ally on the outskirts of town where drinks and music continues. And speaking of layed back, I’ll mention my unnecessary transfer to a boat that came in the form of a girl smaller than me peddling up the road on her bicycle with me on the back. I did feel guilty but couldn’t work out what was happening, but I don’t think this is normal anyway, people were laughing at us the whole way.

Next stop Vang Viang. Five hours on a very bumpy, windy and in places, unstable bus journey on one of Laos few main roads, I arrived in at 3am by the local airstrip.. Knowing that everything here in this tiny town also closes by midnight. Accommodation on my trip is nearly always a guesthouse these days, but between the hours of 11pm and 7am they close, many locking right up for the night. In the small hours of the night I’m a tad unsure how I’m going to find myself a bed. But strangely, Western stragglers are appearing out of the woodwork as I wonder through and all seem pleased to see new arrivals and all have a place to suggest. I’m reluctant to trust any of their ideas as the only reason I can only think they’re still wondering the streets is because they’re either locked-out themselves or have forgotten altogether where they belong. One guy says he knows the place we‘re aiming for, Pan‘s Place, and apparently Pan himself so urges us to follow him. It’s 3.30am now and he leads us down the road until he prises open a gate and guides us round the back and into the building. “Yo Pan, wake up! I’ve people to see you” he shouts. I’m thinking this isn’t a good situation. I already feel like I’m breaking and entering and am not keen on pissing off the owner. It all ends ok, a dazed and confused Pan’s wife appears and guy breaks into Thai language. They’ve no rooms anyway and our new friend doesn’t want to help anymore, but luckily a new straggler appears and thinks we should go to Tony’s. Well Tony didn’t look like a Tony but did foolishly leave a sign on his bedroom door inviting us knock if arriving late at night, which we did and all was good.

Anyway, Vang Viang. It’s famous for one thing really, and any traveller in Laos has to try it. Tubing. Tubing basically consists of floating down a 4km stretch of the river in a tractor inner tube, and for a very small section at the beginning, visiting as many of the riverside bars as you desire. The weather is gorgeous and when you’re ready, you cool off as you drift down the river before being pulled to the next bamboo bar a few meters along and welcomed with a shot of whisky and free bananas. Admittedly it sounds kind of dangerous, copious amounts of alcohol combined with extreme sun and carelessly floating unsupervised in potentially fast and rocky waters, but all the bars have gone to the effort to make things just a little more death defying. Each establishment has built, pretty high up, either a trapeze swing or zip wire to help you with your re-entry to the river. The drunker people get, the worse they land, and next day bruises are compared. I did my falls into the water early on whilst I was certain to still have my wits about me. No bruises here! Most don’t make it beyond the first few bars but I was determined to complete the whole 4km back into town, so I bought myself a whiskey bucket for the journey and set off. The majority of the route is actually just scenery with locals, animals and the odd kayaker along the way, and I reckon that was the most relaxing couple of hours I’ve ever had. At the end some chilled out bars begin to appear to tempt you back on dry land in hammock for a while. Although this really does sound like a boozy day out, I think it‘s not necessary so, anyone would really enjoy this, alcohol or not. All attitude’s are good and the atmosphere is amazing, everyone should try it once.

The next morning the perfect hangover cure for the worse for wear (not I) is some time in one of the many TV bars. There are no upright chairs but bed styled lounger seats for you to lay back and waste the day eating fry-ups and watching either Friends, Family Guy or The Simpsons (that’s all any of them ever played). I however had better plans involving cycling around in flipflops with a smoothie in one hand and a little basket at the front for my stuff whilst looking for a local cave without a care in the world, not even for other road users. That was happiness, I’ll have to do more of it when I’m home, but I doubt it’ll be the same. Anyway, in the cave, in the darkest corner of the cave in fact, I found this spider thing. It has long atenies and reckon probably had no eyes, because eyes are pointless in the dark.

My final stop was Vientiane, but as I already mentioned, didn’t make me feel I wanted to stay. I think after all that time in the countryside, probably as much 3 weeks if I count South China, Northern Thailand and all Laos, I just wasn’t interested in being in a city with not too much to offer. I left for Bangkok the very next day which was great because for the first time in a while I could take an overnight train again (busses are normally annoyingly cheaper and easier). Brilliant!

Happy Days!

Yay...Hillsy and Katrina are here! And of all the places we could have met, they found a little spot called Annies Massage that’s opposite theirs, just like at work! Actually it wasn’t that bad as it sounds at all. We only stopped there for one before returning to their hotel to make the vodka/Special K exchange (and for them to boast about all the mod-cons, and even basic-cons, in their room that I’m just don’t get to see these days), they then let me raid their rooms fresh fruit supplies before, true to form, Iain lead me a stray and within an hour had me vodka drunk. At the end of the night, not ever really knowing exactly where my guest house was, I got myself dropped at the lively Khao San Road on the other side of the city, where from there I knew the way. That tipsy walk back hugging my box of Special K will be one of my happiest memories of the trip (that and meeting good friends in far away places of course).

It was really good to see and catch up with them both, it was a lovely evening and they treated me really well (I said I’d treat them to rice or noodles from the street but they felt they knew somewhere better). Feeling very uninspired by Bangkok and ready to leave as soon as I arrived (think it’s the fact that I’d gotten myself right into the laid back mentality of Laos that made this capital seem really unappealing, it‘s not Bangkok’s fault), seeing such friendly faces couldn’t have come at a better time. I enjoyed their company so much I skipped my morning bus out of there and stayed one more day to share with them some tuk-tuk based sightseeing fun. After a couple more drinks, and I don’t want to criticise Hillsy’s taste in bars, but there isn’t half as much flesh on show or middle-aged Peter Stringfellow look-a-likes over my side of town, we said our goodbyes. Convinced I’d feel low the next day, I’m actually feeling really good. Seeing them was the perfect break from travelling, and although I’m super jealous of their next stop straight to the Krabi beaches this morning, today I’ve found myself in a nice guest house on the river Kwai. It has floating lounge spaces, a nice bar, well kept lawn and right now I'm creating this post from a hammock, and even though I’m paying a whole 4pounds a night (I splashed out for a room with a bathroom sort of thing), I don't think it's going to compare to the luxury Iain and Katrina I know are now experiencing in Southern Thailand, but it’s close enough though...It was really great to see you both, thanks for the Special K, and more importantly, thanks for letting me gatecrash your holiday for a bit...enjoy the rest of your break!

After a week in Laos I've arrived back in Thailand to consider my next move. I've still a post to write about Laos, but until I do I just wanted to share with you a couple of the first signs I saw upon crossing the Friendship bridge from Laos on to Thai turf. In the one above I like the way they've listed the punishments in order of severity, and in the second I think they've found a good approach in communicating Birdflu.

So now I've a few days in Bangkok and am excited because from work Iain, aka Hillsy, and his better half Katrina arrive here too, so I'm really looking forwrd to seeing them (and the Special K they've promised to hand deliver in return for genuine Russian vodka). To mark this special occasion I may pretend not to be so much of a smelly backpacker and go get a shower! That's a joke, I don't smell.