As amazing as our trip so far had been, I was starting to feel that travel these days is missing some of the adventure it used to have. You hop on a plane, watch a film and poof! you're in Bangkok. Or Tibet. Or Timbuktu. Just a little too easy. Something more challenging was in order, I thought.
We had made our way from Hong Kong to Beijing by train, with side-trips to Macau by boat and Xi'an by train. No planes. My home town, Hexham, is in the Northeast of England. Would it be possible, I wondered, to get all the way from Hong Kong to Hexham without a plane? The overwhelming power of alliteration won the day, and so the morning after Chris flew home I found myself in Beijing Central Train Station, awaiting the 7.50am number 3 train, to Moscow.
Six days and 4735 miles later, at 2.40pm on Monday afternoon, I got there. On the way I had crossed to the Chinese border, the Gobi desert, Mongolia and Siberia. I had seen ruined sections of the Great Wall, nomadic Ger villages, the extraordinary Lake Baikal and the epic steppes of Siberia. I had hopped off for brief stops in interesting Cold War era stations across Eastern Russia. I had improvised a shower with a sink and a thermos. I had eaten terrible dining car food and too many instant noodles. I had enjoyed the most stunning scenery I have ever seen, in places too vast or remote for most people ever to visit. I had enjoyed Russian vodka and good company. I had spent four and a half days by myself in a cabin on an almost empty train, and read a lot of books... I had experienced northern summers where the sun never actually sets.
And I had really, properly, truly, travelled.
Friday, 24 July 2009
Friday, 3 July 2009
Beijing, China: Last days in Asia.
Back to Beijing, and the final days of my trip (Jacqui had 3.5 weeks ahead of her). The first thing we needed to do was some serious souvenir and present hunting. The nature of backpacking means that most of the gifts you buy for people back home have to be bought in the last place you visit, due to the logistics of having to carry everything around. Thankfully, Beijing is not short of shopping.
We spent an enjoyable few hours going around the enormous Panjiayuan Market, also known as the 'dirt market'. Jacqui was quickly among the bargains, but it took me much longer. My haggling technique was finely honed after five months of practice, but I wasn't getting anywhere with the Beijingers. The trouble is, too many tourists come to this market and slap their cash around as if they were at home. So I was struggling to buy things at the price they were actually worth. It took about two hours before I actually bought anything. Eventually though, we both left with all the items we wanted for ourselves and for people at home. In the evening another old friend of mine Lingyan came over to Julia's for dinner, along with her husband Jiang and their very sweet one-year-old baby Sai'er (known as 'Tintin' due to being conceived in Brussels).
The following day we checked out the Summer Palace. I'd been in deepest winter back in 2005, and had enjoyed sliding around on the frozen lake and playing football with lumps of ice. To see the place on a gorgeous summer's day made me realise that I hadn't exactly soaked up all the culture on show on my first visit! It's a really pretty setting, especially the little shopping and cafes area called Suzhou Street which makes for some excellent photos.
After lunch it was time for the obligatory 'ahh bless' moment with a trip to see the pandas at Beijing Zoo. This was excellent fun. I hadn't really realised before how funny pandas look when they're slouching with a pile of bamboo on their belly ready for eating. Most comical. They have the demeanour of a lazy teenager who can't be bothered to do anything. In searching for a token picture for this paragraph, I stumbled across this one which clearly shows a panda from the zoo playing the flute while his mate shines his shoes for him. Nice.
On my last day, I had some unfinished business to attend to. In 2005, I was one of the first Westerners to be allowed inside the (then under construction) Beijing Olympic Stadium, as part of a tour arranged through work. At the time it was a hive of activity with thousands of workers working three shifts around the clock to get the enormous venue built. The chance to come back and see it completed was not to be missed. We bought tickets to enter the venue, and then you could just wander more-or-less where you pleased. There was an enormous thunderstorm while we were inside, giving the place a rather eerie feel. I wasn't quite as blown away by the stadium as I thought I might be. Its clearly quite impressive from the outside, but inside it has no more character than, say, Arsenal's Emirates Stadium. Personally I think Munich's Allianz Arena is still my favourite futuristic-looking stadium in the world. We also went in the Water Cube, which was the Olympic swimming venue. Again, pretty impressive, but it probably looks a lot better on a sunny day. The 'soap bubble' design of the exterior of the building looks a little on the grey side on a dull day. It certainly looks the business at night, but I was flying that afternoon, so no time...
And then it was time for me to head to the airport (Etihad Airways are fantastic by the way). The last couple of months of the trip went unbelievably quickly. So strange to be leaving Jacqui behind after five and a half months of being pretty much joined at the hip. But a whole new chapter of the adventure was just starting for her, as she will reveal in her next few posts.
We spent an enjoyable few hours going around the enormous Panjiayuan Market, also known as the 'dirt market'. Jacqui was quickly among the bargains, but it took me much longer. My haggling technique was finely honed after five months of practice, but I wasn't getting anywhere with the Beijingers. The trouble is, too many tourists come to this market and slap their cash around as if they were at home. So I was struggling to buy things at the price they were actually worth. It took about two hours before I actually bought anything. Eventually though, we both left with all the items we wanted for ourselves and for people at home. In the evening another old friend of mine Lingyan came over to Julia's for dinner, along with her husband Jiang and their very sweet one-year-old baby Sai'er (known as 'Tintin' due to being conceived in Brussels).
The following day we checked out the Summer Palace. I'd been in deepest winter back in 2005, and had enjoyed sliding around on the frozen lake and playing football with lumps of ice. To see the place on a gorgeous summer's day made me realise that I hadn't exactly soaked up all the culture on show on my first visit! It's a really pretty setting, especially the little shopping and cafes area called Suzhou Street which makes for some excellent photos.
After lunch it was time for the obligatory 'ahh bless' moment with a trip to see the pandas at Beijing Zoo. This was excellent fun. I hadn't really realised before how funny pandas look when they're slouching with a pile of bamboo on their belly ready for eating. Most comical. They have the demeanour of a lazy teenager who can't be bothered to do anything. In searching for a token picture for this paragraph, I stumbled across this one which clearly shows a panda from the zoo playing the flute while his mate shines his shoes for him. Nice.
On my last day, I had some unfinished business to attend to. In 2005, I was one of the first Westerners to be allowed inside the (then under construction) Beijing Olympic Stadium, as part of a tour arranged through work. At the time it was a hive of activity with thousands of workers working three shifts around the clock to get the enormous venue built. The chance to come back and see it completed was not to be missed. We bought tickets to enter the venue, and then you could just wander more-or-less where you pleased. There was an enormous thunderstorm while we were inside, giving the place a rather eerie feel. I wasn't quite as blown away by the stadium as I thought I might be. Its clearly quite impressive from the outside, but inside it has no more character than, say, Arsenal's Emirates Stadium. Personally I think Munich's Allianz Arena is still my favourite futuristic-looking stadium in the world. We also went in the Water Cube, which was the Olympic swimming venue. Again, pretty impressive, but it probably looks a lot better on a sunny day. The 'soap bubble' design of the exterior of the building looks a little on the grey side on a dull day. It certainly looks the business at night, but I was flying that afternoon, so no time...
And then it was time for me to head to the airport (Etihad Airways are fantastic by the way). The last couple of months of the trip went unbelievably quickly. So strange to be leaving Jacqui behind after five and a half months of being pretty much joined at the hip. But a whole new chapter of the adventure was just starting for her, as she will reveal in her next few posts.
Monday, 29 June 2009
Xi'an, China: Terracotta warriors and twice round the pagoda.
Another day, another sleeper train, this time sharing with a couple of Chinese blokes and their ever-so-talkative mate who kept popping in to our carriage. As we got on the train, one of the guys who was quite fat and not wearing a t-shirt, scrambled to get it on as soon as he saw Jacqui. Apparently its alright to get your big belly out for the whole of China, but as soon as there's a foreign lady present its time to put it away. He even said sorry.
On arrival in Xi'an it seemed like a harsh, hectic place. This was the real China, we presumed. There was activity everywhere, noisy traffic, grubby beggars with even grubbier children that looked as if they'd just come from playing chimney sweeps in a school play. I don't mean to be cruel saying that; it's just that's exactly what they looked like. Mischievous urchins with sooten faces. Is sooten a word? It is now.
Our hotel wasn't up to much, but fine for a night and the cheapest option in town. We freshened up and took a taxi about six kilometres to the Big Goose Pagoda. This taxi cost us about £1.70 and well worth it given that we couldn't work the buses out to save ourselves. The pagoda itself was very nice, but weary from previous days sightseeing we elected not to climb it and just look around. Following that, we went to the Forest of Steles museum, where all kinds of historical information is preserved in stone calligraphy on giant stones sat on the back's of turtles - we think this was probably the inspiration for the doctor's steles we mentioned earlier in the trip in Vietnam. There's everything from Confucian teachings to poetry to public record keeping engraved on the steles. We really enjoyed it, but if you happen to be able to read Mandarin, I imagine it's an enormous treat.
We spent the latter part of the afternoon and evening exploring the cute backstreets at the southern end of the central, walled-in section of Xi'an city. We also climbed up to the top of the city walls themselves, to discover that they were about three or four times as wide as the Great Wall, and that the wall stretched for a good couple of miles on each side. Forgive me for going all The Sun on you and using capitals for emphasis, but this is a MASSIVE city. The city walls contain only a fraction of the total area. There's about eight million people here. Now be honest - had you ever heard of it before you read this blog? That, in a nutshell, is China. There's a city comparable with London here and not only have you never even heard of it, neither has your boffy mate who's quite nifty at pub quizzes. Here's a stat I've just researched for you. Number of Chinese cities with an administrative area population of over seven million: 26.
Twenty-six! How many can you name? Welcome to China, folks.
Anyway, somewhat blown away by the view from our lofty perch, we then went and checked out the Bell Tower and Drum Tower, a common feature in Chinese cities. Beijing has a set too. We didn't go inside them because we were immediately lured away by an excellent night market, heavily influenced by the town's Muslim population.
The food smelt amazing. I'd spied some delicious looking potato cubes sizzling away in a big wok, all covered in herbs and spices. At least I thought they were potatoes. I bought myself a plate-load and chomped down on a mouthful. I then made a noise a bit like a sea-lion (I know, it surprised me as well) as I realised these were not tasty tuberous treats, but in fact very weird savoury jelly freaky things. I desperately wanted to give them to the couple sitting opposite who were loving theirs, but a little part of my brain was saying "Don't. You've only had one mouthful. You'll look like an idiot. Especially after the seal impression." So I just left them uneaten in front of me, because that made much more sense. The bread, luckily, was incredible.
Next morning we were booked on a tour to go and see the Terracotta Warriors first, with additional trips to Ban Po ancient village and Emporor Qin's tomb. It turned out that we'd been misled by the travel agent. We were actually seeing the warriors last, following trips to Ban Po and not the tomb but instead (and you might be one step ahead of me here) the Big Goose Pagoda.
So for the second day running we found ourselves at the Big Goose Pagoda. "I guess we should climb it this time," I said. And we were glad we did, the view in each compass direction only confirmed what we'd already realised the day before: Xi'an is gigantic. Here's one direction (in truth, it could be any direction), taken on a misty day.
Ban Po ancient village is a small archaeological site where they discovered the ancient remains of an old village (and some of its villagers), and were able to learn plenty about the customs and architecture of the time. Though I couldn't help feeling it was cashing in on being located near the Terracotta Army somewhat. It was quite interesting, though I'd have enjoyed it more if our tour guide hadn't zipped round it like Billy Whizz from The Beano.
Finally, we arrived at the warriors' site. This is what we'd come all this way for, and we weren't disappointed. When you first walk into the main hall which houses row after row of life-size terracotta figures, each different from the rest, its a superb sight. The warriors are a form of funeral art that were buried with Emporor Qin when he died. Their purpose was apparently to help Qin rule another empire in the afterlife. How brilliant is that? They were discovered in the 1970s by a group of farmers, one of which was Mr Yang Zhifa. He was on site the day we visited, signing copies of books about the warriors. He was wearing dark John Lennon shades and looking like quite the rockstar, bless him.
We spent ages getting scores of photographs from different angles, inside what essentially looks like a giant aircraft hangar. You walk along raised platforms around the edge of the excavation site, so you can't get as close as you'd like, but it's still a spectacular sight. The warriors' weapons were stolen by robbers shortly after the army's construction, but they must have been one hell of a menacing sight when armed. They were also very colourful when they were made, but the colours partly perished with time but were also finished off by what our tour guide referred to as "less sophisticated archaeological techniques than today". Translation: they couldn't wait to dig them up and show them off, and they messed it up a bit. However, they still make a wonderful sight and a great story.
Friday, 26 June 2009
Beijing, China: Amazing architectural feats, both old and new.
Another ferry from Macau back to Hong Kong, and we were straight off to Hung Hom station to catch the afternoon train to Beijing. The train takes 24 hours (almost exactly in fact) and we couldn't believe our luck when it turned out that our four-person carriage was unoccupied except for ourselves. It made a big difference to not have random strangers snoring above you, or getting up in the middle of the night to get a drink, etc. We slept like logs for 11 hours, meaning there was less time to kill on the train. Enjoying the scenery during daylight, plus several episodes of American Dad on my iPod got us through the rest pretty painlessly. If you pay the extra to travel soft sleeper in China, it's really very comfortable.
An old work colleague of mine, Julia, was kind enough to offer to let Jacqui and I stay with her and her husband while we were in Beijing. She has a fantastic apartment and we had our own room and bathroom, so we were very comfortable. She gave us a spare key too, so we could come and go as we pleased. On our taxi ride to her house we passed the building that will soon open as the headquarters for China Central Television (CCTV). Designed by Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, its probably my favourite building in the world. Just a shame about the scotched remains of a Mandarin Oriental hotel next door that was also almost completed when it burned down in a fire caused by Chinese New Year fireworks.
Our first evening was made memorable by a visit to a bizarre Russian bar called Chocolate with the weirdest burlesque/variety stage show soundtracked by pumping Euro dance music. One of the oddest venues I've ever been to - you must poke your nose in if you ever visit Beijing.
On our first full day we went to the Great Wall. It was my second visit (this was my fourth trip to China, and third to Beijing), but Jacqui was in China for the first time so this was a great way to get her started. We went to the Mutianyu section of the wall, which is less touristy than the hugely popular Badaling, and probably safer to clamber around on too. Despite a little haziness, the views were superb. On our way up we saw a Chinese couple coming downhill, both clutching their bloody noses. Apparently they'd gone further than you're supposed to at the top, onto some unsafe crumbled ruins - and paid the price. Hard way to learn that lesson - I'd say they might both have broken their noses judging by the state of them. They looked like they'd been boxing each other!
Next day we took in all the famous sights around Tiananmen Square, including Chairman Mao's mausoleum and the Forbidden City. You have to check in all your belongings bar your passport before they'll let you in for the briefest of gawps at the nation's controversial yet celebrated former leader. Security guards hurry you along; you're not allowed to stop. I assume they're paranoid that somebody would cause a disturbance if they had the opportunity. An interesting experience to stroll past him, though he looked oddly waxy. Wonder if it's really him?
The Forbidden City was an interesting as you'd expect, and looked like it had been given a lick of paint in readiness for the 2008 Olympic Games as all of the decoration on the major halls was gleaming and immaculate. After two or three hours exploring all of its various nooks and crannies, we climbed the hill at the northern exit which gave spectacular views of the entire complex and its more modern surrounds. The new National Theatre building (known as 'The Egg') looks almost comic from up on the hill, positioned as it is just a few hundred metres away from the Forbidden City.
An old work colleague of mine, Julia, was kind enough to offer to let Jacqui and I stay with her and her husband while we were in Beijing. She has a fantastic apartment and we had our own room and bathroom, so we were very comfortable. She gave us a spare key too, so we could come and go as we pleased. On our taxi ride to her house we passed the building that will soon open as the headquarters for China Central Television (CCTV). Designed by Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, its probably my favourite building in the world. Just a shame about the scotched remains of a Mandarin Oriental hotel next door that was also almost completed when it burned down in a fire caused by Chinese New Year fireworks.
Our first evening was made memorable by a visit to a bizarre Russian bar called Chocolate with the weirdest burlesque/variety stage show soundtracked by pumping Euro dance music. One of the oddest venues I've ever been to - you must poke your nose in if you ever visit Beijing.
On our first full day we went to the Great Wall. It was my second visit (this was my fourth trip to China, and third to Beijing), but Jacqui was in China for the first time so this was a great way to get her started. We went to the Mutianyu section of the wall, which is less touristy than the hugely popular Badaling, and probably safer to clamber around on too. Despite a little haziness, the views were superb. On our way up we saw a Chinese couple coming downhill, both clutching their bloody noses. Apparently they'd gone further than you're supposed to at the top, onto some unsafe crumbled ruins - and paid the price. Hard way to learn that lesson - I'd say they might both have broken their noses judging by the state of them. They looked like they'd been boxing each other!
Next day we took in all the famous sights around Tiananmen Square, including Chairman Mao's mausoleum and the Forbidden City. You have to check in all your belongings bar your passport before they'll let you in for the briefest of gawps at the nation's controversial yet celebrated former leader. Security guards hurry you along; you're not allowed to stop. I assume they're paranoid that somebody would cause a disturbance if they had the opportunity. An interesting experience to stroll past him, though he looked oddly waxy. Wonder if it's really him?
The Forbidden City was an interesting as you'd expect, and looked like it had been given a lick of paint in readiness for the 2008 Olympic Games as all of the decoration on the major halls was gleaming and immaculate. After two or three hours exploring all of its various nooks and crannies, we climbed the hill at the northern exit which gave spectacular views of the entire complex and its more modern surrounds. The new National Theatre building (known as 'The Egg') looks almost comic from up on the hill, positioned as it is just a few hundred metres away from the Forbidden City.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Macau, China: Enormous casinos and gorging on egg tarts.
The one-hour hop from Hong Kong to Macau was relatively painless, and we were delighted to discover that our hotel room there was five times the size of the one in Hong Kong. And five times nicer too - certainly in our top three of the whole trip.
Macau, traditionally a Portuguese colonial enclave, is now home to some enormous casinos - a result of the island's gaming laws being opened up to international developers some years ago. It has in recent times overtaken Las Vegas for gambling revenues, which gives you an idea of how many 'high-rollers' are in town, most of them from the Chinese mainland (where gambling is prohibited). We spent an enjoyable evening cruising around some of the big ones near our hotel, such as the Wynn, StarWorld and the Lisboa.
The following day, we took in some of the non-gambling culture that Macau has to offer, with a walking tour around the old town centre, which radiates out from the picturesque Senado Square. (This was also the only place we could find a launderette whose staff could understand that gesturing at our bag of laundry meant that we'd quite like them to wash it for us in exchange for money. Our walking tour took in several quaint old sights, including the ruins of St Paul's church. Here, excellently, the most intact bit of the ruins is the entire front wall. An enormous stone staircase leads down from the church and this area gets crowded with obsessive Chinese holidaymakers all determined to get the perfect vacation snap.
Sight-seeing out of the way, we decided to head to the Grand Lisboa - a bit of a Macau icon these days, and something of an opinion divider architecturally, to put it mildly - and enter a tournament in their poker room. There were sixteen entrants, almost all of whom were extremely competent players. Jacqui, who did extremely well not to get knocked out on a very awkward first hand, made a straight on one hand before her stack of chips was gradually whittled down and she finished 13th - still pretty good since she'd never played poker in a casino before. I came 9th after my ace-king of spades came up against another guys pair of queens when I didn't think he had anything like as good as that! You had to come in the top three to win money, so we left empty handed but having thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
In the evening we took a free shuttle bus - the casinos lay on these super-comfy buses intended for shipping punters to their door; the reality is the local Macanese use them as a convenient free way of getting across the island before walking the rest of their way to their destination - to the incomprehensibly gigantic Venetian casino. To give you an idea of the scale of this place, how's this for a stat? The Venetian is the fourth-largest building in the world by area. Inside, like its Vegas counterpart, there are fake blue skies (look closely when you visit and you can see the built-in sprinkler system on the blue and white mural) and fake riverways full of Venetian gondolas, complete with singing operatic gondoliers. Visitors can take a ride in one, for a fairly steep price. We decided against, and merely opted for a gawp at this silly spectacle. Next door at the new City of Dreams resort was pretty impressive too, although its newly opened and I think they could improve the signage a tad: we traipsed round for the best part of half an hour trying to find the restaurant we were after. Otherwise very nice though, and featuring an impressive audio-visual show inside a room called The Bubble.
On our last full day, we took the bus (a public bus this time) all the way to the southernmost tip of Macau, the former island of Coloane. Its connected to the mainland these days thanks to artificial land reclamation - a popular urban development technique in this particular part of the world. Coloane was lovely, a really charming little settlement where nobody was particularly bothered about going for the tourist dollar, they'd rather just carry on with normal life. The highlight - and, if we're truthful, the number one purpose - of our visit, was to drop in at Lord Stow's Cafe and try his famous egg custard tarts. These things are so damn gorgeous that the company exports them to various places around Asia including Japan and Korea. We liked them so much that we bought three boxes of six: one for us and two as gifts for friends we'd soon be seeing in Beijing.
Dinner on our last evening was heartily scoffed at a superb and authentic Portuguese place called Afonso III. Delicious and reasonably priced Portuguese fare if you're ever in town and run by nice people. I devoured my pork escalopes inbetween enthusiastic 'mmm...' noises. The evening ended with a nightcap at the Wynn, where we caught the bizarre Tree of Prosperity Show as we were walking out. When it finished, we left bewildered but grinning all over our faces. Such a Vegas touch, yet on the other side of the world. Watch the video to the end and you'll see some of the sights at the Venetian too.
Macau, traditionally a Portuguese colonial enclave, is now home to some enormous casinos - a result of the island's gaming laws being opened up to international developers some years ago. It has in recent times overtaken Las Vegas for gambling revenues, which gives you an idea of how many 'high-rollers' are in town, most of them from the Chinese mainland (where gambling is prohibited). We spent an enjoyable evening cruising around some of the big ones near our hotel, such as the Wynn, StarWorld and the Lisboa.
The following day, we took in some of the non-gambling culture that Macau has to offer, with a walking tour around the old town centre, which radiates out from the picturesque Senado Square. (This was also the only place we could find a launderette whose staff could understand that gesturing at our bag of laundry meant that we'd quite like them to wash it for us in exchange for money. Our walking tour took in several quaint old sights, including the ruins of St Paul's church. Here, excellently, the most intact bit of the ruins is the entire front wall. An enormous stone staircase leads down from the church and this area gets crowded with obsessive Chinese holidaymakers all determined to get the perfect vacation snap.
Sight-seeing out of the way, we decided to head to the Grand Lisboa - a bit of a Macau icon these days, and something of an opinion divider architecturally, to put it mildly - and enter a tournament in their poker room. There were sixteen entrants, almost all of whom were extremely competent players. Jacqui, who did extremely well not to get knocked out on a very awkward first hand, made a straight on one hand before her stack of chips was gradually whittled down and she finished 13th - still pretty good since she'd never played poker in a casino before. I came 9th after my ace-king of spades came up against another guys pair of queens when I didn't think he had anything like as good as that! You had to come in the top three to win money, so we left empty handed but having thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
In the evening we took a free shuttle bus - the casinos lay on these super-comfy buses intended for shipping punters to their door; the reality is the local Macanese use them as a convenient free way of getting across the island before walking the rest of their way to their destination - to the incomprehensibly gigantic Venetian casino. To give you an idea of the scale of this place, how's this for a stat? The Venetian is the fourth-largest building in the world by area. Inside, like its Vegas counterpart, there are fake blue skies (look closely when you visit and you can see the built-in sprinkler system on the blue and white mural) and fake riverways full of Venetian gondolas, complete with singing operatic gondoliers. Visitors can take a ride in one, for a fairly steep price. We decided against, and merely opted for a gawp at this silly spectacle. Next door at the new City of Dreams resort was pretty impressive too, although its newly opened and I think they could improve the signage a tad: we traipsed round for the best part of half an hour trying to find the restaurant we were after. Otherwise very nice though, and featuring an impressive audio-visual show inside a room called The Bubble.
On our last full day, we took the bus (a public bus this time) all the way to the southernmost tip of Macau, the former island of Coloane. Its connected to the mainland these days thanks to artificial land reclamation - a popular urban development technique in this particular part of the world. Coloane was lovely, a really charming little settlement where nobody was particularly bothered about going for the tourist dollar, they'd rather just carry on with normal life. The highlight - and, if we're truthful, the number one purpose - of our visit, was to drop in at Lord Stow's Cafe and try his famous egg custard tarts. These things are so damn gorgeous that the company exports them to various places around Asia including Japan and Korea. We liked them so much that we bought three boxes of six: one for us and two as gifts for friends we'd soon be seeing in Beijing.
Dinner on our last evening was heartily scoffed at a superb and authentic Portuguese place called Afonso III. Delicious and reasonably priced Portuguese fare if you're ever in town and run by nice people. I devoured my pork escalopes inbetween enthusiastic 'mmm...' noises. The evening ended with a nightcap at the Wynn, where we caught the bizarre Tree of Prosperity Show as we were walking out. When it finished, we left bewildered but grinning all over our faces. Such a Vegas touch, yet on the other side of the world. Watch the video to the end and you'll see some of the sights at the Venetian too.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Hong Kong, China: Feeling the squeeze.
Well, it's been a while. As you may know, my trip has come to an end and I am now back in breezy Britain. We've been unable to access the blog due to the 'Great Firewall of China', where they don't like people blogging lest they, God forbid, express an opinion. Anyhow, let's see if I can't bring you up to speed quickly over the next few days. Jacqui's trip has over a month to run (she's three days into her epic six-day Trans-Siberian train from Beijing to Moscow as I type). She'll fill you in on that once she finds an internet cafe in Russia next week.
We briefly returned to Hanoi after Halong Bay before flying to Hong Kong. After several months in developing countries, arrival in HK was a shock. Everything seemed so clean, cars would actually stop at pedestrian crossings, barely a scooter in sight: we were a bit bewildered in truth. The city centre is squeezed into quite a small area of land, yet it's tough on pedestrian shoe leather with plenty of steep hills.
We stayed in Kowloon, across the harbour from Hong Kong Island. We had little choice but to stay in one of the big 'mansions' around the main drag (Nathan Road). These buildings feel like tired old office complexes that have been converted into budget accommodation. Each floor has two or three small guesthouses - many of which seemed to be housing migrant workers. Our hotel room in Mirador Mansion was perhaps our smallest of the trip. All Hong Kong backpacker rooms are shoe-boxes. Our room consisted of a bed, a small table and mirror, and about two square feet of standing room outside the equally miniature bathroom. This was not a room for a six-footer like myself, but I just had to lump it. Thankfully there was storage space under the bed for all our gear.
Space is at a premium here. Unpromising, scruffy lift-shafts can often lead to large and fancy first-floor restaurants; a tawdry looking silk shop might have a cracking bar in its basement - our guidebook helped to an extent, but you probably need a goodly amount of local knowledge to make the best of Hong Kong. Our one bar tip though: Cafe 71, an excellent bohemian little place, if you can find it...
The first thing to do when you get to Hong Kong is take a ride on the Star Ferry at night and take in the hugely impressive cityscape. This was a whole world of difference from SE Asia where we'd seen very few skyscrapers over the previous two months.
Prices gave us a jolt too. From 50p beers in Vietnam I was suddenly confronted with the prospect of a pint of Carlsberg setting me back 57 HK dollars (£4.45). I nursed one gingerly while we watched the Championship Play-off Final in an Irish bar.
We also took the earliest available opportunity to visit the legendary Happy Valley Racecourse, which proved a really entertaining night out, made all the better in the last race of the day when a horse, appropriately named Really Happy, wiped out the losses we'd accumulated by betting on earlier races, leaving us slightly in profit for the night. Can't argue with that.
The following day we were lucky enough to be in town for the annual Dragon Boat Festival in Stanley, at the southern tip of HK Island. Despite some rainy weather everybody seemed to be having a brilliant time, with most competing teams comprised of groups of friends or workmates. I especially enjoyed the team competing in panda outfits.
We had given ourselves plenty of time for Hong Kong and this meant we were able to go on a couple of walking tours our guide book had recommended, which gave us a less touristy insight into real Hong Kong life. The walk we did in Kowloon was especially interesting, as we got off the beaten track away from sterile shopping malls and took in some hectic markets. This felt more like China; less colonial than other parts of Hong Kong. Our HK Island walk took in Norman Foster's unusual HSBC building, described by locals as an 'inside-out robot'.
We briefly returned to Hanoi after Halong Bay before flying to Hong Kong. After several months in developing countries, arrival in HK was a shock. Everything seemed so clean, cars would actually stop at pedestrian crossings, barely a scooter in sight: we were a bit bewildered in truth. The city centre is squeezed into quite a small area of land, yet it's tough on pedestrian shoe leather with plenty of steep hills.
We stayed in Kowloon, across the harbour from Hong Kong Island. We had little choice but to stay in one of the big 'mansions' around the main drag (Nathan Road). These buildings feel like tired old office complexes that have been converted into budget accommodation. Each floor has two or three small guesthouses - many of which seemed to be housing migrant workers. Our hotel room in Mirador Mansion was perhaps our smallest of the trip. All Hong Kong backpacker rooms are shoe-boxes. Our room consisted of a bed, a small table and mirror, and about two square feet of standing room outside the equally miniature bathroom. This was not a room for a six-footer like myself, but I just had to lump it. Thankfully there was storage space under the bed for all our gear.
Space is at a premium here. Unpromising, scruffy lift-shafts can often lead to large and fancy first-floor restaurants; a tawdry looking silk shop might have a cracking bar in its basement - our guidebook helped to an extent, but you probably need a goodly amount of local knowledge to make the best of Hong Kong. Our one bar tip though: Cafe 71, an excellent bohemian little place, if you can find it...
The first thing to do when you get to Hong Kong is take a ride on the Star Ferry at night and take in the hugely impressive cityscape. This was a whole world of difference from SE Asia where we'd seen very few skyscrapers over the previous two months.
Prices gave us a jolt too. From 50p beers in Vietnam I was suddenly confronted with the prospect of a pint of Carlsberg setting me back 57 HK dollars (£4.45). I nursed one gingerly while we watched the Championship Play-off Final in an Irish bar.
We also took the earliest available opportunity to visit the legendary Happy Valley Racecourse, which proved a really entertaining night out, made all the better in the last race of the day when a horse, appropriately named Really Happy, wiped out the losses we'd accumulated by betting on earlier races, leaving us slightly in profit for the night. Can't argue with that.
The following day we were lucky enough to be in town for the annual Dragon Boat Festival in Stanley, at the southern tip of HK Island. Despite some rainy weather everybody seemed to be having a brilliant time, with most competing teams comprised of groups of friends or workmates. I especially enjoyed the team competing in panda outfits.
We had given ourselves plenty of time for Hong Kong and this meant we were able to go on a couple of walking tours our guide book had recommended, which gave us a less touristy insight into real Hong Kong life. The walk we did in Kowloon was especially interesting, as we got off the beaten track away from sterile shopping malls and took in some hectic markets. This felt more like China; less colonial than other parts of Hong Kong. Our HK Island walk took in Norman Foster's unusual HSBC building, described by locals as an 'inside-out robot'.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Halong Bay, Vietnam: Finding beauty in a junk.
After stealing a few hours sleep (everyone's a thief in Hanoi...) we dragged ourselves out of bed early and waited for our pick-up, with some trepidation as our tickets were among the things stolen. Luckily, the tour guide was full of understanding and we made the three-hour bus journey without a hitch. Well, except for a little girl in our tour group throwing up in the back of the bus. Our dismay turned to stifled giggles when she loudly proclaimed, over her Mum's embarrassed protestations of surprise, "Mummy, that's what I did yesterday".
We arrived in Halong Bay with no further incidents and made our way onto the beautiful boat, an old-fashioned junk cleverly fitted out with rooms. Setting sail into the bay was like entering another world. Halong is a collection of almost 2,000 limestone islands, which are actually the peaks of an ancient mountain range now almost completely submerged in the sea. The rocky outcrops are an eerie and beautiful sight, resembling nothing we'd ever seen before.
Some of the islands are hollow, containing labyrinthine caves. We explored one the tour operator's call 'Surprising Cave', which we thought was funny until we got inside and were surprised. It's huge, and through the good works of UNESCO (who are becoming a feature of this blog it seems), has been cleverly paved and lit to be accessible but not 'Disneyed'. Some of the rock formations resemble things such as a Buddha, elephants and a turtle, all with local legends attached, as well as the inevitable.
Some of the rocks stand in groups, sectioning off small 'lagoons' in the sea. We took to a kayak to explore one. Floating through a small tunnel, we emerged into a truly awe-inspiring place, with rocks jutting into the sky as high as we could see, and eagles flying overhead. We were lucky enough to be the only people in there so the view was matched with an almost reverential silence. Breathtaking.
The bay is home to a small community of indigenous fisherfolk who live on floating homes and rarely if ever take to dry land. Their floating bar may be familiar to some of you from this, which was our first introduction to Halong Bay. We used a far more sensible boat.
We arrived in Halong Bay with no further incidents and made our way onto the beautiful boat, an old-fashioned junk cleverly fitted out with rooms. Setting sail into the bay was like entering another world. Halong is a collection of almost 2,000 limestone islands, which are actually the peaks of an ancient mountain range now almost completely submerged in the sea. The rocky outcrops are an eerie and beautiful sight, resembling nothing we'd ever seen before.
Some of the islands are hollow, containing labyrinthine caves. We explored one the tour operator's call 'Surprising Cave', which we thought was funny until we got inside and were surprised. It's huge, and through the good works of UNESCO (who are becoming a feature of this blog it seems), has been cleverly paved and lit to be accessible but not 'Disneyed'. Some of the rock formations resemble things such as a Buddha, elephants and a turtle, all with local legends attached, as well as the inevitable.
Some of the rocks stand in groups, sectioning off small 'lagoons' in the sea. We took to a kayak to explore one. Floating through a small tunnel, we emerged into a truly awe-inspiring place, with rocks jutting into the sky as high as we could see, and eagles flying overhead. We were lucky enough to be the only people in there so the view was matched with an almost reverential silence. Breathtaking.
The bay is home to a small community of indigenous fisherfolk who live on floating homes and rarely if ever take to dry land. Their floating bar may be familiar to some of you from this, which was our first introduction to Halong Bay. We used a far more sensible boat.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Hanoi, Vietnam: Temples and thieves.
First off, I've had my sodding wallet and phone nicked, so forgive me if this blog is tinged with any leftover frustration and annoyance. I'll get to that later though.
To get to Hanoi, we took another sleeper bus which took 14 hours. We nearly didn't take it at all though following a spectacular display of rudeness by the woman in charge of getting everybody to their bunks on the bus. We'd reserved berths 9 and 10 in advance (bottom bunks) through our hotel, who had assured us the bunks were set aside for us. Good to be organised, so we thought.
A free taxi shuttled us to the bus, which was laid on by the bus company. We arrived a full 40 minutes before the bus was due to depart. A fairly chaotic scene greeted us inside the bus, and we noticed that our bunks were occupied by locals. Jacqui went to speak with the woman, politely enquiring: "Excuse me please, can you help us? We have reserved beds 9 and 10." The response was unexpected.
"You're late, people have taken your beds. If you don't like it get off the bus."
"I'm sorry?"
"Get off my bus."
"But we have reserved seats."
"Then get off and wait for another bus. There is one in 10 minutes."
We decided to just take a random couple of top bunks, not trusting the woman further than we could throw her. This was our first really negative experience though, generally the people here had been lovely. As it turned out, we could see out the window that no other bus ever turned up. She just didn't give a toss whether we ended up stranded in the street.
Once in Hanoi, we spent an enjoyable few days visiting the Temple of Literature, which also functioned as Hanoi's first university. It was founded in 1070 as a Confucian temple, and the names of graduates of doctor laureate tests from 1484 to 1779 are etched into 82 stone steles which stand on the back of stone tortoises. From there we took a cab to the Museum of Ethnology, a superb introduction into Vietnamese hill tribes and ethnic groups, including a great outdoor section featuring examples of traditional buildings that we were able to clamber about inside.
Next day we took in a temple sat in the middle of Hoan Qiem Lake in the Old Quarter of the city. An attractive footbridge takes you over to the quiet little temple, but the oddest sight inside is the embalmed remains of a giant turtle, supposedly discovered in the lake.
Hoa Lo Prison (now a museum), was known jokingly by American POWs as the "Hanoi Hilton". It was originally used by French colonialists to house political prisoners, and later by the North Vietnamese to house POWs during the war. Senator John McCain, who recently lost the election to Barack Obama, was imprisoned here and is unable to lift his arms above his head after being tortured during his stay at the prison.
We were a bit burnt out after all the sight-seeing and decided to have a quiet day before heading to Halong Bay the following morning. However, any semblance of peace was spoiled in the evening when my wallet and mobile phone were stolen from my satchel as we walked from a restaurant back to our hotel. A crowded area by a night market on our way home is where we think the theft happened. Neither of us even saw the thief. And how's this for the cruelest of ways to realise you've had your stuff stolen: we'd gone into a doughnut shop, picked out some of the most delicious looking doughnuts you could possibly imagine, and then I go to pay and realise my bag is open and my wallet and phone not there. The shop staff were sympathetic and understanding that we left without paying.
We headed back to the restaurant where the manager called the police. This turned out to be a couple of officers in uniform and a couple of 'heavies' brandishing sticks! They were more-or-less useless and said I needed to go to the police station. The manager sent a waiter to go with us as an interpreter, but when we got there the police just made dismissive hand gestures and said (something along the lines of) "There's nothing we can do, go away" in Vietnamese. This is causing me some hassles with travel insurance as you can imagine. I'm waiting to hear back from the British embassy in Hanoi to see if they can help.
Anyway, what we'd hoped would be an early night resting ahead of Halong Bay, turned out to be a frenzy of card cancelling, password changing, phone calls and such like. Thankfully, Halong would turn out to be one of the highlights of the trip and thoroughly cheer me up: more on that next time.
To get to Hanoi, we took another sleeper bus which took 14 hours. We nearly didn't take it at all though following a spectacular display of rudeness by the woman in charge of getting everybody to their bunks on the bus. We'd reserved berths 9 and 10 in advance (bottom bunks) through our hotel, who had assured us the bunks were set aside for us. Good to be organised, so we thought.
A free taxi shuttled us to the bus, which was laid on by the bus company. We arrived a full 40 minutes before the bus was due to depart. A fairly chaotic scene greeted us inside the bus, and we noticed that our bunks were occupied by locals. Jacqui went to speak with the woman, politely enquiring: "Excuse me please, can you help us? We have reserved beds 9 and 10." The response was unexpected.
"You're late, people have taken your beds. If you don't like it get off the bus."
"I'm sorry?"
"Get off my bus."
"But we have reserved seats."
"Then get off and wait for another bus. There is one in 10 minutes."
We decided to just take a random couple of top bunks, not trusting the woman further than we could throw her. This was our first really negative experience though, generally the people here had been lovely. As it turned out, we could see out the window that no other bus ever turned up. She just didn't give a toss whether we ended up stranded in the street.
Once in Hanoi, we spent an enjoyable few days visiting the Temple of Literature, which also functioned as Hanoi's first university. It was founded in 1070 as a Confucian temple, and the names of graduates of doctor laureate tests from 1484 to 1779 are etched into 82 stone steles which stand on the back of stone tortoises. From there we took a cab to the Museum of Ethnology, a superb introduction into Vietnamese hill tribes and ethnic groups, including a great outdoor section featuring examples of traditional buildings that we were able to clamber about inside.
Next day we took in a temple sat in the middle of Hoan Qiem Lake in the Old Quarter of the city. An attractive footbridge takes you over to the quiet little temple, but the oddest sight inside is the embalmed remains of a giant turtle, supposedly discovered in the lake.
Hoa Lo Prison (now a museum), was known jokingly by American POWs as the "Hanoi Hilton". It was originally used by French colonialists to house political prisoners, and later by the North Vietnamese to house POWs during the war. Senator John McCain, who recently lost the election to Barack Obama, was imprisoned here and is unable to lift his arms above his head after being tortured during his stay at the prison.
We were a bit burnt out after all the sight-seeing and decided to have a quiet day before heading to Halong Bay the following morning. However, any semblance of peace was spoiled in the evening when my wallet and mobile phone were stolen from my satchel as we walked from a restaurant back to our hotel. A crowded area by a night market on our way home is where we think the theft happened. Neither of us even saw the thief. And how's this for the cruelest of ways to realise you've had your stuff stolen: we'd gone into a doughnut shop, picked out some of the most delicious looking doughnuts you could possibly imagine, and then I go to pay and realise my bag is open and my wallet and phone not there. The shop staff were sympathetic and understanding that we left without paying.
We headed back to the restaurant where the manager called the police. This turned out to be a couple of officers in uniform and a couple of 'heavies' brandishing sticks! They were more-or-less useless and said I needed to go to the police station. The manager sent a waiter to go with us as an interpreter, but when we got there the police just made dismissive hand gestures and said (something along the lines of) "There's nothing we can do, go away" in Vietnamese. This is causing me some hassles with travel insurance as you can imagine. I'm waiting to hear back from the British embassy in Hanoi to see if they can help.
Anyway, what we'd hoped would be an early night resting ahead of Halong Bay, turned out to be a frenzy of card cancelling, password changing, phone calls and such like. Thankfully, Halong would turn out to be one of the highlights of the trip and thoroughly cheer me up: more on that next time.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Huế, Vietnam: Hats and History.
With all our tailored purchases safely in the post, we made our way north to another World Heritage town, Huế. Huế was the capital of Vietnam from the 17th century, under the Nguyen dynasty, until 1945 when the Communists took over and moved the capital to Hanoi. Huế turned into a key battleground in the war, and the scars show, but most of the evidence of its illustrious history is still standing.
We made our way to the Citadel first, and inside to the Forbidden Purple City, where the Emperors lived with their Concubines and eunuch servants (couldn't trust a woman around the Kings or a man around the Concubines...)
We also enjoyed a day long dragon boat tour on the Perfume River, taking in an entertaining Vietnamese Kung Fu display first (though the expression on the face of the chap who lay on broken glass and had a breeze block smashed on his chest was a little disconcerting). The trip also took in the Tombs of two of the Nguyen emperors, Tu Duc and Minh Mang, the Thien Mu pagoda and a village where incense sticks and conical hats are made. All in all an excellent day, though Chris couldn't be persuaded to get a hat.
We made our way to the Citadel first, and inside to the Forbidden Purple City, where the Emperors lived with their Concubines and eunuch servants (couldn't trust a woman around the Kings or a man around the Concubines...)
We also enjoyed a day long dragon boat tour on the Perfume River, taking in an entertaining Vietnamese Kung Fu display first (though the expression on the face of the chap who lay on broken glass and had a breeze block smashed on his chest was a little disconcerting). The trip also took in the Tombs of two of the Nguyen emperors, Tu Duc and Minh Mang, the Thien Mu pagoda and a village where incense sticks and conical hats are made. All in all an excellent day, though Chris couldn't be persuaded to get a hat.
Sunday, 17 May 2009
Hoi An, Vietnam: Made to measure.
Another overnight journey saw us head from Nha Trang to picturesque Hoi An, an ancient UNESCO World Heritage town that has nowadays become the place to get tailored clothing made in South East Asia - even more so than Bangkok. There are hundreds of 'cloth shops' here. And so we both got properly stuck in with getting a batch of stuff made, which we've already shipped home to UK.
I got a really excellent tailored suit made at a shop called Yaly Couture for $60, and they were really thorough. I got to choose from hundreds of different materials, as well as the colour and style of the lining. They had me in for five fittings in total, over the course of three days. Each time I had some alterations needed - or some that the tailor felt were necessary - the suit would go back to the stitching room for changes. Each time I told them something I wasn't happy with I felt more and more like the character of Danny in the mod film Quadrophenia (played with excellent gruff stroppiness by Daniel Peacock, who was also in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and played the dad in Teenage Health Freak, fact fans!) where he's basically just abusing the fusty old London tailor and wanting the suit a tighter fit than the tailor deems appropriate.
Tailor: How does that feel?
Danny: Awkward.
Tailor: What?
Danny: Bring it in 'ere [gestures towards hips]. Stop ****in' about!
Tailor: Don't use that language here, sonny. Talk like that and you can make your own suit.
That sort of thing, except I was more civil and so were they.
I got a really excellent tailored suit made at a shop called Yaly Couture for $60, and they were really thorough. I got to choose from hundreds of different materials, as well as the colour and style of the lining. They had me in for five fittings in total, over the course of three days. Each time I had some alterations needed - or some that the tailor felt were necessary - the suit would go back to the stitching room for changes. Each time I told them something I wasn't happy with I felt more and more like the character of Danny in the mod film Quadrophenia (played with excellent gruff stroppiness by Daniel Peacock, who was also in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and played the dad in Teenage Health Freak, fact fans!) where he's basically just abusing the fusty old London tailor and wanting the suit a tighter fit than the tailor deems appropriate.
Tailor: How does that feel?
Danny: Awkward.
Tailor: What?
Danny: Bring it in 'ere [gestures towards hips]. Stop ****in' about!
Tailor: Don't use that language here, sonny. Talk like that and you can make your own suit.
That sort of thing, except I was more civil and so were they.
Aside from tailoring, we enjoyed Hoi An's knackered charms. On our first night, we'd been invited to dinner by a Californian couple (we think they were a couple), who had suggested a restaurant called Mango Rooms by the river. It was an amazing meal - I had beef cooked in rum, huge great juicy chunks of it - but we'd slightly misjudged what sort of budget the Americans were travelling on and the bill was somewhat hair-raising compared to what we've been used to. The good company made up for it, but as Jacqui joked after we left the restaurant: "We'll have to go home one day earlier now..." Lovely people though, and one of the best meals of the trip.
Once all our tailoring was done, we took a day going round all the sights of the old town, including an old teak Chinese house that had been left untouched by the passage of time over six generations, and the Museum of History and Culture. Smashing little town, but really shopping is the big draw here these days. You couldn't ask for a nicer backdrop though.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
Nha Trang, Vietnam: Bad Elton John and a cable car over the sea.
A cramped sleeper bus (four rows of three bunk beds) took us the 10-hour journey from Saigon to the beach resort of Nha Trang. We thought we were being clever in nabbing bottom bunks, but it turns out that top bunks are where you want to be - close to the air-conditioning vents, y'see? Jacqui prised open a window to stop us drowning in our own sweat, even if this did mean an occasional waft of silage as we drove past agricultural areas from time to time.
We arrived bleary-eyed and sleep deprived at 6am, and immediately went straight back to sleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows. Five hours later we emerged ready to face the day, resolving that our next overnighter would be by train.
After a chill-out day on the beach, we spent the afternoon and evening of our second day at Vinpearl Island - a resort that you reach by a 3km cable car, which is dominated by a big theme park where we spent all of our time. Imagine Alton Towers on a Southend-on-Sea budget and you'll be somewhere close. We enjoyed the kitschness of it all, and the pirate ship ride made me feel like I'd been kicked in the unmentionables. I knew there was a reason why I had avoided those kind of swingy-back-and-forth roller coasters as a kid. I just wish I'd remembered about two minutes earlier...
Despite my Southend comment though, the aquarium (included in what we felt was a pretty steep ticket price) turned out to be superb. Not just because it had sharks and a very nicely done 90-metre fibre-glass walk though zone, but because there was such a variety of interesting and unusual sea creatures. I lost count of the number of massive moray eels with their freaky mouths permanently open, giving them a facial expression resembling a sort of twisted glee. Oh, and Vinpearl has a big hillside sign ala Hollywood. Lights up a treat at night too.
The following day we went on a $6 boat trip, which took us to four islands for snorkelling (where some pesky little jellyfish gave Jacqui a couple of lashes which are thankfully fairly small and healing nicely), a 'floating bar', and general lazing around in the sunshine. Good fun, especially when the crew entertained us with a makeshift covers band (drumkit: one knackered bass drum, a cymbal that looked like it had been recovered from an archaeological dig, and some upside down plastic barrels). I especially enjoyed their version of Elton John's 'Sacrifice' where it seemed any sounds would do for vocals as long as the number of syllables was right. "Sass-a-ma-sife..." That sort of thing, bless 'em.
We arrived bleary-eyed and sleep deprived at 6am, and immediately went straight back to sleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows. Five hours later we emerged ready to face the day, resolving that our next overnighter would be by train.
After a chill-out day on the beach, we spent the afternoon and evening of our second day at Vinpearl Island - a resort that you reach by a 3km cable car, which is dominated by a big theme park where we spent all of our time. Imagine Alton Towers on a Southend-on-Sea budget and you'll be somewhere close. We enjoyed the kitschness of it all, and the pirate ship ride made me feel like I'd been kicked in the unmentionables. I knew there was a reason why I had avoided those kind of swingy-back-and-forth roller coasters as a kid. I just wish I'd remembered about two minutes earlier...
Despite my Southend comment though, the aquarium (included in what we felt was a pretty steep ticket price) turned out to be superb. Not just because it had sharks and a very nicely done 90-metre fibre-glass walk though zone, but because there was such a variety of interesting and unusual sea creatures. I lost count of the number of massive moray eels with their freaky mouths permanently open, giving them a facial expression resembling a sort of twisted glee. Oh, and Vinpearl has a big hillside sign ala Hollywood. Lights up a treat at night too.
The following day we went on a $6 boat trip, which took us to four islands for snorkelling (where some pesky little jellyfish gave Jacqui a couple of lashes which are thankfully fairly small and healing nicely), a 'floating bar', and general lazing around in the sunshine. Good fun, especially when the crew entertained us with a makeshift covers band (drumkit: one knackered bass drum, a cymbal that looked like it had been recovered from an archaeological dig, and some upside down plastic barrels). I especially enjoyed their version of Elton John's 'Sacrifice' where it seemed any sounds would do for vocals as long as the number of syllables was right. "Sass-a-ma-sife..." That sort of thing, bless 'em.
Friday, 15 May 2009
Saigon, Vietnam: Vietcong and Victor Hugo.
Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, capital of South Vietnam and former capital of Cochinchina, is a confusing place. It's a city with nine million people and four million motorbikes. And no traffic laws. It takes ten minutes to cross the road. You can get run over on the pavement. Everyone wants to sell you something or con you out of something. And yet it has a charm that will win you over in the end.
Our arrival in this craziest of Asian cities was eased by the services of a tiny old lady who helped us find a perfect hotel. Despite being at least 70 and all of 4' 6", she insisted on helping carry the bags and moved at lightning speed. Having got us settled, she scuttled off into the night before we could even tip her. A mystery.
We'd been hearing horror stories about Saigon from everyone we've met who had been here - of thieves, con artists and pickpockets. Maybe we were just lucky, but the only negative experience we had was a elderly trickster at the Mariamman Hindu Temple who gave us some incense to make an offering then tried to extract a fee of 200,000 Vietnamese dong for it (that's like charging 20 quid at home). We gave him a fair amount and beat a hasty retreat - we could move faster than he could.
There's plenty to see in Saigon, most of it connected to the Vietnam War (or the American War as it's known here). The fall of Saigon to the Communists marked the end of the war and victory for the Vietcong over American forces. The Ho Chi Minh City Museum gives a patriotic account of the city's history, while the Reunification Palace is a monument to the Communist victory. The most moving is the War Remnants Museum, which houses information on the war, the terrible and ongoing effects of Agent Orange and other biological weapons used by the Americans, recreations of the 'tiger cages' used by the South Vietnamese government to hold prisoners, weapons and unexploded ordnance and incredible displays of photographs documenting the war taken by international photographers and journalists killed in the conflict. None of this makes for easy viewing. Most internet sources and reviews seem to be critical of the museum, accusing it of bias. However, it's hard to see why they wouldn't be. Civilian suffering during the war was almost exclusively at the hands of American forces and bombs, and continues to this day as the effects of Agent Orange manifest themselves in each new generation.
We saw another side to the war at the famous Cu Chi Tunnels. Cu Chi, 70km from Saigon, was a key battlefield in the war, as the Vietcong and American-backed South Vietnam both struggled for control. Local Vietcong forces built an extensive underground tunnel network, in order to protect themselves from bombs and ground troops and to launch surprise attacks. Today, some of the tunnels have been preserved as a museum, where you can see the secret entrances, traps and tunnels used by the Vietcong. One tunnel (the one in the link) has been doubled in size to accommodate tourists, yet is still unpleasantly claustrophobic. Chris had to dive out half way along to avoid getting stuck and I only just squeezed through.
Another fascinating experience was a visit to the Holy See of the Cao Dai religion. The religion originated in Vietnam in 1926, and is truly extraordinary. It incorporates a mixture of Buddhist, Hindu and Christian beliefs and Caodaiists worship God, Jesus and Buddha. And Victor Hugo.
Our arrival in this craziest of Asian cities was eased by the services of a tiny old lady who helped us find a perfect hotel. Despite being at least 70 and all of 4' 6", she insisted on helping carry the bags and moved at lightning speed. Having got us settled, she scuttled off into the night before we could even tip her. A mystery.
We'd been hearing horror stories about Saigon from everyone we've met who had been here - of thieves, con artists and pickpockets. Maybe we were just lucky, but the only negative experience we had was a elderly trickster at the Mariamman Hindu Temple who gave us some incense to make an offering then tried to extract a fee of 200,000 Vietnamese dong for it (that's like charging 20 quid at home). We gave him a fair amount and beat a hasty retreat - we could move faster than he could.
There's plenty to see in Saigon, most of it connected to the Vietnam War (or the American War as it's known here). The fall of Saigon to the Communists marked the end of the war and victory for the Vietcong over American forces. The Ho Chi Minh City Museum gives a patriotic account of the city's history, while the Reunification Palace is a monument to the Communist victory. The most moving is the War Remnants Museum, which houses information on the war, the terrible and ongoing effects of Agent Orange and other biological weapons used by the Americans, recreations of the 'tiger cages' used by the South Vietnamese government to hold prisoners, weapons and unexploded ordnance and incredible displays of photographs documenting the war taken by international photographers and journalists killed in the conflict. None of this makes for easy viewing. Most internet sources and reviews seem to be critical of the museum, accusing it of bias. However, it's hard to see why they wouldn't be. Civilian suffering during the war was almost exclusively at the hands of American forces and bombs, and continues to this day as the effects of Agent Orange manifest themselves in each new generation.
We saw another side to the war at the famous Cu Chi Tunnels. Cu Chi, 70km from Saigon, was a key battlefield in the war, as the Vietcong and American-backed South Vietnam both struggled for control. Local Vietcong forces built an extensive underground tunnel network, in order to protect themselves from bombs and ground troops and to launch surprise attacks. Today, some of the tunnels have been preserved as a museum, where you can see the secret entrances, traps and tunnels used by the Vietcong. One tunnel (the one in the link) has been doubled in size to accommodate tourists, yet is still unpleasantly claustrophobic. Chris had to dive out half way along to avoid getting stuck and I only just squeezed through.
Another fascinating experience was a visit to the Holy See of the Cao Dai religion. The religion originated in Vietnam in 1926, and is truly extraordinary. It incorporates a mixture of Buddhist, Hindu and Christian beliefs and Caodaiists worship God, Jesus and Buddha. And Victor Hugo.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Mekong Delta, Vietnam: From serenity to scooter chaos.
As we bid Cambodia goodbye, we decided to head into Vietnam with a three-day tour of the Mekong River Delta. We'd heard a lot of scare stories about the hectic pace of life in Vietnam, and so the idea of spending a few days cruising around fishing villages and seeing a bit of rural life seemed like the ideal way to ease ourselves in gently: dipping our toes in, rather than bombing in at the deep end. Hey, we've stroked tigers and climbed volcanoes, we've earned the right to be cowardly occasionally, ok?
The first day consisted of motoring down a very wide section of the Mekong, where we stopped either side of the Vietnamese border - first to get stamped out of Cambodia, and then five minutes down river to get stamped into Vietnam (we already had our visas as you need them in advance for Vietnam). Then, with the admin all sorted, we veered off down a far narrower stretch of the delta. From here, we enjoyed a very relaxing afternoon gently pottering downstream admiring all the colourful riverside houses and huts, the spindly-looking monkey bridges and waving back at local children who pretty much all wanted to wave at the funny-looking group of tourists in their little boat. The tiny and largely unused section of my brain that sporadically enjoys birdwatching was also delighted to spot a couple of Collared Kingfishers darting across the river too. Every bit as impressive in flight as their more orangey cousins that you see fishing in British rivers. Ok, I'll stop going on about birds now. At least there are birds here. We barely saw a bird in Laos. Cheap protein...
We spent the night in a crappy hotel (part of the package tour unfortunately) in a little town called Chau Doc. Nothing much to shout about here, but it did give us our first glimpse of just how many Vietnamese ride scooters - not to mention the joys of crossing the road. We've pretty much got it licked now. The rule is: just walk in front of scooters, but don't walk in front of cars. Keep walking and the scooters will dodge you expertly. Stutter or stop and you'll confuse them and they'll start wobbling worryingly! You just have to go for it. A far bigger danger is a local about to set off on his scooter who is backing it onto the road with his feet while sitting on it. They rarely look at what's behind them and will go over your toes if you're not careful.
Next day we visited a weaving village, which would have been interesting had we not been somewhat rushed round it. We were distracted by some giant pigs out the back, and by the time we'd finished there was barely time to learn about how the silk weaving was done. Then it was on to a fish farm, where we were allowed to throw food pellets into the fish tanks (built into wooden floating floors with nets so as to utilise Mekong water) by the bucket-load and watch with amazement as the fish went into a frantic, spasming frenzy in the fight for food. They turned the water into a froth, and if you stood nearby you could get soaked.
We spent the night in Can Tho, a city of about 300,000 people, which has a pretty impressive shiny silver statue of Ho Chi Minh to gawp at on its riverfront. And then our last day included a visit to a floating market (less photogenic than the Thai one, but still nice to see), as well as a fruit plantation village where they also had a mini zoo featuring an array of unusual creatures including a large gang of baby cayman. After lunch it was then time to head off to Saigon. Or Ho Chi Minh City to give it its official name. I'll do like the locals and stick with Saigon. As I type approximately twelve thousand scooters are whizzing by outside. Vietnam is bonkers, but so far so good.
The first day consisted of motoring down a very wide section of the Mekong, where we stopped either side of the Vietnamese border - first to get stamped out of Cambodia, and then five minutes down river to get stamped into Vietnam (we already had our visas as you need them in advance for Vietnam). Then, with the admin all sorted, we veered off down a far narrower stretch of the delta. From here, we enjoyed a very relaxing afternoon gently pottering downstream admiring all the colourful riverside houses and huts, the spindly-looking monkey bridges and waving back at local children who pretty much all wanted to wave at the funny-looking group of tourists in their little boat. The tiny and largely unused section of my brain that sporadically enjoys birdwatching was also delighted to spot a couple of Collared Kingfishers darting across the river too. Every bit as impressive in flight as their more orangey cousins that you see fishing in British rivers. Ok, I'll stop going on about birds now. At least there are birds here. We barely saw a bird in Laos. Cheap protein...
We spent the night in a crappy hotel (part of the package tour unfortunately) in a little town called Chau Doc. Nothing much to shout about here, but it did give us our first glimpse of just how many Vietnamese ride scooters - not to mention the joys of crossing the road. We've pretty much got it licked now. The rule is: just walk in front of scooters, but don't walk in front of cars. Keep walking and the scooters will dodge you expertly. Stutter or stop and you'll confuse them and they'll start wobbling worryingly! You just have to go for it. A far bigger danger is a local about to set off on his scooter who is backing it onto the road with his feet while sitting on it. They rarely look at what's behind them and will go over your toes if you're not careful.
Next day we visited a weaving village, which would have been interesting had we not been somewhat rushed round it. We were distracted by some giant pigs out the back, and by the time we'd finished there was barely time to learn about how the silk weaving was done. Then it was on to a fish farm, where we were allowed to throw food pellets into the fish tanks (built into wooden floating floors with nets so as to utilise Mekong water) by the bucket-load and watch with amazement as the fish went into a frantic, spasming frenzy in the fight for food. They turned the water into a froth, and if you stood nearby you could get soaked.
We spent the night in Can Tho, a city of about 300,000 people, which has a pretty impressive shiny silver statue of Ho Chi Minh to gawp at on its riverfront. And then our last day included a visit to a floating market (less photogenic than the Thai one, but still nice to see), as well as a fruit plantation village where they also had a mini zoo featuring an array of unusual creatures including a large gang of baby cayman. After lunch it was then time to head off to Saigon. Or Ho Chi Minh City to give it its official name. I'll do like the locals and stick with Saigon. As I type approximately twelve thousand scooters are whizzing by outside. Vietnam is bonkers, but so far so good.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Sihanoukville, Cambodia: Monkeys? Who needs monkeys?
After our gruelling history lesson in Phnom Penh we headed south to Sihanoukville, a gorgeous little beach town that reflects more of Cambodia's bright future than it's tragic past.
We stayed on Serendipity Beach, a beautiful stretch of golden sand, and spent a relaxing couple of days sunbathing and making the most of the town's excellent restaurants and bars. Our favourite was the Starfish Bakery, part of the Starfish Project - a local charity working to support disabled people by providing them with meaningful employment. Good food for a good cause!
We also took the chance to visit Ream National Park, where we enjoyed a lovely boat trip through the mangrove forest. We weren't lucky enough to spot the dolphins or monkeys that make their homes there, but the beautiful deserted beach we ended up at took away the pain...
We stayed on Serendipity Beach, a beautiful stretch of golden sand, and spent a relaxing couple of days sunbathing and making the most of the town's excellent restaurants and bars. Our favourite was the Starfish Bakery, part of the Starfish Project - a local charity working to support disabled people by providing them with meaningful employment. Good food for a good cause!
We also took the chance to visit Ream National Park, where we enjoyed a lovely boat trip through the mangrove forest. We weren't lucky enough to spot the dolphins or monkeys that make their homes there, but the beautiful deserted beach we ended up at took away the pain...
Sunday, 26 April 2009
Phnom Penh, Cambodia: Pol Pot's brutal regime.
From the beauty of Angkor we headed south by bus to the capital Phnom Penh. Without question the most noteworthy story to tell was the day we visited the Killing Fields and the old Tuol Sleng prison. I'd read a little about the astonishing brutality and mindless genocide of the communist Khmer Rouge's ill-fated years of power in the late 1970s but visiting such key sites made everything immediately more real.
The Khmer Rouge regime killed more than one and a half million of their own people - about a fifth of the population - as it sought to turn Cambodia into a mass agricultural commune where everybody pulled together on farms and forced labour projects. Those seen as intellectual, mildly clever and even wearers of spectacles were viewed as highly undesirable and were by and large executed en masse. City dwellers, professional people, anyone with an education - if you had more than a few brain cells to rub together then the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, did not want you around. Phnom Penh literally became a ghost town as city folk were driven away. Illiterate rural peasants were seen as the true proletariat and most others were wiped out.
The Killing Fields is a site outside Phnom Penh where the Khmer Rouge executed an estimated 200,000 people in multiple mass graves. Today you can still see fragments of clothing, even human bone, poking out from the soil. Most harrowing of all, a commemorative stupa now stands as a memorial to those who lost their lives. Unlike most memorials, its graphic and real, containing numerous glass shelves each housing the skulls of scores of murdered Cambodians. This contrasted with the noise of children playing in a nearby school serves only to emphasise the horrors of the past and makes you wonder how on earth this could happen in a country filled with such happy people. It sounds so barbaric, yet this was well after Hitler and the Holocaust, happening just a few years before I was born. A visit to the Killing Fields manages to be both deeply chilling and yet oddly serene in its now peaceful, leafy location.
Precious little serenity to be found at Tuol Sleng though. Tucked away down Phnom Penh side streets, this former school was turned into Security Prison 21 (S21) by the Khmer Rouge. As many as 20,000 prisoners were thought to have been held here - many of whom were tortured and forced to confess whatever made-up charges were put in front of them, or name friends and family who would then be brought in too. One wing features black and white photos of decomposing corpses laid out on metal beds - pictured as they were found when Vietnamese forces discovered Tuol Sleng as they overthrew the Khmer Rouge in 1979. When you look down and see the same checkerboard pattern floor as shown in the photo on the wall it drives home that you are standing in a room where senseless murder was committed. The other wing houses large galleries of mugshots of the dead, with numbers around their necks, part of the Khmer Rouge's strangely diligent system of record keeping. Pol Pot had an eye for thoroughness and detail. He wanted to know what his prisoners looked like, and see proof that they'd been tortured or killed for his own twisted peace of mind.
An enormous monsoon meant we had no choice but to stick around inside Tuol Sleng until it had eased up. The wind howled around the open windows and gave the place an even more eerie quality than it has in the sunshine. Its important that visitors to Cambodia come here and see this. That the country's people can still smile despite the deep scars of a generation ago - wounds that will take many more generations to heal - is really remarkable.
You'd probably hoped I might tell you a bit about what Phnom Penh is like as a city - and it is a charming, hectic place full of lovely people - but its the atrocities of three decades ago that are the real story to tell.
The Khmer Rouge regime killed more than one and a half million of their own people - about a fifth of the population - as it sought to turn Cambodia into a mass agricultural commune where everybody pulled together on farms and forced labour projects. Those seen as intellectual, mildly clever and even wearers of spectacles were viewed as highly undesirable and were by and large executed en masse. City dwellers, professional people, anyone with an education - if you had more than a few brain cells to rub together then the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, did not want you around. Phnom Penh literally became a ghost town as city folk were driven away. Illiterate rural peasants were seen as the true proletariat and most others were wiped out.
The Killing Fields is a site outside Phnom Penh where the Khmer Rouge executed an estimated 200,000 people in multiple mass graves. Today you can still see fragments of clothing, even human bone, poking out from the soil. Most harrowing of all, a commemorative stupa now stands as a memorial to those who lost their lives. Unlike most memorials, its graphic and real, containing numerous glass shelves each housing the skulls of scores of murdered Cambodians. This contrasted with the noise of children playing in a nearby school serves only to emphasise the horrors of the past and makes you wonder how on earth this could happen in a country filled with such happy people. It sounds so barbaric, yet this was well after Hitler and the Holocaust, happening just a few years before I was born. A visit to the Killing Fields manages to be both deeply chilling and yet oddly serene in its now peaceful, leafy location.
Precious little serenity to be found at Tuol Sleng though. Tucked away down Phnom Penh side streets, this former school was turned into Security Prison 21 (S21) by the Khmer Rouge. As many as 20,000 prisoners were thought to have been held here - many of whom were tortured and forced to confess whatever made-up charges were put in front of them, or name friends and family who would then be brought in too. One wing features black and white photos of decomposing corpses laid out on metal beds - pictured as they were found when Vietnamese forces discovered Tuol Sleng as they overthrew the Khmer Rouge in 1979. When you look down and see the same checkerboard pattern floor as shown in the photo on the wall it drives home that you are standing in a room where senseless murder was committed. The other wing houses large galleries of mugshots of the dead, with numbers around their necks, part of the Khmer Rouge's strangely diligent system of record keeping. Pol Pot had an eye for thoroughness and detail. He wanted to know what his prisoners looked like, and see proof that they'd been tortured or killed for his own twisted peace of mind.
An enormous monsoon meant we had no choice but to stick around inside Tuol Sleng until it had eased up. The wind howled around the open windows and gave the place an even more eerie quality than it has in the sunshine. Its important that visitors to Cambodia come here and see this. That the country's people can still smile despite the deep scars of a generation ago - wounds that will take many more generations to heal - is really remarkable.
You'd probably hoped I might tell you a bit about what Phnom Penh is like as a city - and it is a charming, hectic place full of lovely people - but its the atrocities of three decades ago that are the real story to tell.
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Siam Reap, Cambodia: The temples of ancient Angkor.
We're now in Cambodia. Or Cambodge as the French call it. First stop Siam Reap where the many, many temples of Angkor are housed in a large region on the outskirts of Siam Reap. For those that don't know - this is the location of Angkor Wat, a Hindu/Buddhist temple that was the crowning glory of the ancient Khmer empire and remains the largest religious building in the world.
The Khmer empire's pomp ran from the 9th to the 15th century, with successive kings each trying to outdo each other with increasingly spectacular religious monuments. The culmination of this was Angkor Wat, a stunningly intricate and beautiful place. We timed our arrival for sunrise - yes, we can get up early once in a while - and it was ridiculously worth it. Shots of the temple silhouetted with rays of sunshine breaking through in the background were well worth the effort of hauling ourselves out of bed pre-5am. Walking through the temple's maze-like corridors and passageways was a surreal and calming experience, not to mention providing respite from the sun which was already hot enough to burn my pathetically melanin-light skin by about 8.30am. Still smarting from getting cooked in Phuket, I whacked on the sunblock sharpish.
I had expected Angkor Wat to be the highlight of a visit to Angkor, and given that we went there first thing on our first day, I was worried it might be all downhill from there. What I hadn't expected was for the very next temple to be my favourite that I have ever visited.
Bayon is simply brilliant. Built in the 12th-13th century, it was the official state temple of King Jayavarman III, and stands at the centre of his ancient walled-in capital Angkor Thom. The huge stones that comprise Bayon's towers have enormous faces carved into them. The rather contented-looking faces depict Lokesvara, the enlightened embodiment of all Buddhas - though some historians reckon the faces look suspiciously like Jayavarman himself. You probably need to see the faces in the flesh to do them justice, but here's a few photos that hopefully give an impression (1, 2, 3, 4). The dozens of young kids peddling their parents' wares outside the temples - generally guide books, cold drinks, scarves, tacky bamboo flutes - are sad to see, though some of them are quite witty. Often they'll state the price as 'one million dollars' once they can see you're not going to buy anything, or try to impress with their knowledge of capital cities around the world.
We visited a total of 12 temples in two days (with Jacqui visiting a further one, Banteay Srei, as well as the Landmine Museum on our third day while I was recovering from a tummy bug). I won't go into detail about all of them, for fear of giving you temple burnout. But one more that is well worth mentioning is Ta Prohm. This temple, built in a Bayon style in roughly the same era, has been well and truly reclaimed by Mother Nature. Unlike many restored Angkor temples, this one has been left much as it was found. Huge bricks that once formed walls and ceilings lie strewn as if toppled by a mighty earthquake, while, excitingly for photography lovers - if you only click one photo link on this entire blog make sure it's this one - huge 'spung' trees and strangler figs have actually used the walls of the temple for strengthening support and have climbed to great heights while their giant roots swallow the stones at ground level. You can see why they filmed some of the Tomb Raider movie here.
One final thing to mention about Angkor. As a birthday treat for me, Jacqui paid for us to go up 100m in a hot-air balloon, which was tied to the ground with ropes, for an aerial view of Angkor Wat and the surrounding area. It was a little heat hazy, but we still had a cracking view of Angkor and I really enjoyed the surreal whistling of the wind as the ground got smaller below us. The views of surrounding rice paddies were very picturesque too.
As for the town of Siam Reap itself, its inevitably touristy given the presence of so many amazing temples, but there's still plenty to enjoy here. The food is superb for a start. We ate amazing Mexican and Indian food here (no relation to aforementioned tummy trouble) as well as amok, a Khmer speciality of fish curry in a mildly spicy coconut sauce. Spring rolls here are the best you'll find in SE Asia too. It's so hot in Siam Reap during the dry season now that many restaurants even have ceiling fans in their al fresco dining areas. Much needed they are too.
As the minibus arrived on Tuesday morning to take us to the bus station, from where we'd head to the capital Phnom Penh - I was slightly disturbed that our rather gruff looking driver was listening to Love FM. My favourite jingle: "Love FM. With DJs that will always be by your side." They are a soppy lot when it comes to pop music, these Cambodians. Mind you, you could say that about most of this part of the world. The karaoke videos that tend to accompany long bus journeys bear testament to the fact that a schmaltzy, muzak-ish ballad is the format of choice. Those of you who know my music taste will understand why this pains me particularly. I am finding myself increasingly listening to The Fall and Joy Division on my iPod by way of antidote.
The Khmer empire's pomp ran from the 9th to the 15th century, with successive kings each trying to outdo each other with increasingly spectacular religious monuments. The culmination of this was Angkor Wat, a stunningly intricate and beautiful place. We timed our arrival for sunrise - yes, we can get up early once in a while - and it was ridiculously worth it. Shots of the temple silhouetted with rays of sunshine breaking through in the background were well worth the effort of hauling ourselves out of bed pre-5am. Walking through the temple's maze-like corridors and passageways was a surreal and calming experience, not to mention providing respite from the sun which was already hot enough to burn my pathetically melanin-light skin by about 8.30am. Still smarting from getting cooked in Phuket, I whacked on the sunblock sharpish.
I had expected Angkor Wat to be the highlight of a visit to Angkor, and given that we went there first thing on our first day, I was worried it might be all downhill from there. What I hadn't expected was for the very next temple to be my favourite that I have ever visited.
Bayon is simply brilliant. Built in the 12th-13th century, it was the official state temple of King Jayavarman III, and stands at the centre of his ancient walled-in capital Angkor Thom. The huge stones that comprise Bayon's towers have enormous faces carved into them. The rather contented-looking faces depict Lokesvara, the enlightened embodiment of all Buddhas - though some historians reckon the faces look suspiciously like Jayavarman himself. You probably need to see the faces in the flesh to do them justice, but here's a few photos that hopefully give an impression (1, 2, 3, 4). The dozens of young kids peddling their parents' wares outside the temples - generally guide books, cold drinks, scarves, tacky bamboo flutes - are sad to see, though some of them are quite witty. Often they'll state the price as 'one million dollars' once they can see you're not going to buy anything, or try to impress with their knowledge of capital cities around the world.
We visited a total of 12 temples in two days (with Jacqui visiting a further one, Banteay Srei, as well as the Landmine Museum on our third day while I was recovering from a tummy bug). I won't go into detail about all of them, for fear of giving you temple burnout. But one more that is well worth mentioning is Ta Prohm. This temple, built in a Bayon style in roughly the same era, has been well and truly reclaimed by Mother Nature. Unlike many restored Angkor temples, this one has been left much as it was found. Huge bricks that once formed walls and ceilings lie strewn as if toppled by a mighty earthquake, while, excitingly for photography lovers - if you only click one photo link on this entire blog make sure it's this one - huge 'spung' trees and strangler figs have actually used the walls of the temple for strengthening support and have climbed to great heights while their giant roots swallow the stones at ground level. You can see why they filmed some of the Tomb Raider movie here.
One final thing to mention about Angkor. As a birthday treat for me, Jacqui paid for us to go up 100m in a hot-air balloon, which was tied to the ground with ropes, for an aerial view of Angkor Wat and the surrounding area. It was a little heat hazy, but we still had a cracking view of Angkor and I really enjoyed the surreal whistling of the wind as the ground got smaller below us. The views of surrounding rice paddies were very picturesque too.
As for the town of Siam Reap itself, its inevitably touristy given the presence of so many amazing temples, but there's still plenty to enjoy here. The food is superb for a start. We ate amazing Mexican and Indian food here (no relation to aforementioned tummy trouble) as well as amok, a Khmer speciality of fish curry in a mildly spicy coconut sauce. Spring rolls here are the best you'll find in SE Asia too. It's so hot in Siam Reap during the dry season now that many restaurants even have ceiling fans in their al fresco dining areas. Much needed they are too.
As the minibus arrived on Tuesday morning to take us to the bus station, from where we'd head to the capital Phnom Penh - I was slightly disturbed that our rather gruff looking driver was listening to Love FM. My favourite jingle: "Love FM. With DJs that will always be by your side." They are a soppy lot when it comes to pop music, these Cambodians. Mind you, you could say that about most of this part of the world. The karaoke videos that tend to accompany long bus journeys bear testament to the fact that a schmaltzy, muzak-ish ballad is the format of choice. Those of you who know my music taste will understand why this pains me particularly. I am finding myself increasingly listening to The Fall and Joy Division on my iPod by way of antidote.
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Vientiane, Laos: "Sabaidee, Pii Mai!"
We made the short (for Laos) five-hour hop to the capital just in time for the start of Pii Mai: Laos New Year. This officially three-day long festival of the lunar new year is celebrated with a week-long, countrywide water fight. We armed ourselves with water pistols and got thoroughly soaked. Everyone in Vientiane had taken to the streets, either stationed by tanks of water and hoses soaking passersby or in the back of pick-up trucks armed with water balloons and getting soaked as they drove by. The whole thing is extremely good-natured and involves everyone - we saw groups of men in their seventies in natty hats chasing each other with water pistols.
The festival marks the start of a new year, and to signify this Lao people literally wash everything clean. Buddha images are washed and blessed with purified water, houses are cleaned from top to bottom and then everyone dresses up in their best new clothes and goes out to bless friends and neighbour with water too. Lots of it. We found a friendly group of locals who let us share their hose, and their beer (about twenty full buckets of water over my head was a small price to pay) and threw ourselves into it (literally for me: wet floors are slippy). Chris's particular favourite was to get otherwise dry people in the ear, or through the slightly open windows of passing cars. I especially enjoyed aiming under the helmets of people on motorbikes. Not that we got carried away or anything...
We also found time to visit Pha That Luang the most famous and beautiful temple in Laos, where we got to see the purification of the Buddhas, and to take in the rather lovely city itself. As well as squeezing in a few games of very retro-style ten-pin bowling, which is huge in Laos. Chris played well, whilst I was a little more erratic - in three games I managed two strikes, and about twenty zeroes. I think I'll stick to water fights.
The festival marks the start of a new year, and to signify this Lao people literally wash everything clean. Buddha images are washed and blessed with purified water, houses are cleaned from top to bottom and then everyone dresses up in their best new clothes and goes out to bless friends and neighbour with water too. Lots of it. We found a friendly group of locals who let us share their hose, and their beer (about twenty full buckets of water over my head was a small price to pay) and threw ourselves into it (literally for me: wet floors are slippy). Chris's particular favourite was to get otherwise dry people in the ear, or through the slightly open windows of passing cars. I especially enjoyed aiming under the helmets of people on motorbikes. Not that we got carried away or anything...
We also found time to visit Pha That Luang the most famous and beautiful temple in Laos, where we got to see the purification of the Buddhas, and to take in the rather lovely city itself. As well as squeezing in a few games of very retro-style ten-pin bowling, which is huge in Laos. Chris played well, whilst I was a little more erratic - in three games I managed two strikes, and about twenty zeroes. I think I'll stick to water fights.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Vang Vieng, Laos: Tubes, tourists and TV bars.
Vang Vieng, the most touristy spot in Laos, is famed for its tubing - you float down river on a massive inner tube from the drop-off point 4km north of town, stopping at as many of the makeshift bars on route as you deem necessary. There are also all manner of rope swings and zip wires that you can brave before plummeting into the river below. This is all fine and good fun, but some people looked a bit too tipsy to be partaking in the jumps if you ask me. There's no lifeguards around as far as I could tell - so if you get into trouble you're relying on the actions of other tourists, many of whom are inebriated. Not to be a killjoy, it just riled me slightly that I had to climb down a wooden ladder to help a girl who'd bashed her chest as she came off a slide, despite there being a guy in the water right next to her. I'd called out to him, pointed at the girl (who was clearly in pain) and he'd just looked gormlessly at her and then turned away again. The girl was ok after a minute or two fortunately. I'll get off my soapbox now. My one tip for would-be Vang Vieng visitors though would be to save the heavy drinking for after you've tackled the swings and slides. Do that, and you're sure to have a great laugh.
Vang Vieng appears to be the kind of place a young man can get stuck for a while - as proven by the number of Western bar staff and tourist reps in town, who apparently work for little more than their keep and their fill of buckets of Lao Lao rice whisky with Coke/Sprite/Red Bull. The 'cool thing' to do if you're an experienced Vang Vienger is to daub yourself in marker pen before you hit the river. Although those who'd gotten their mates to write on their backs were generally daubed in messages to potential suitors on what to expect: eg, "I will ignore you in the morning" was written in big letters on the back of a posey-looking guy with a bad moustache.
Anyway, once you've had your fill of all the tomfoolery at the bars, you can set off in your tube down the river. With fairly minimal paddling, it took us just under three hours to drift lazily back towards the town. One entrepreneurial soul was stood at the riverside selling cold Beerlao, with a buddy posted about 40 minutes down river collecting the empties. Good thinking, as it can get roastingly hot with the sun reflecting off the water.
The scenery as you bob along is breathtaking. Many of Laos' rivers are surrounded by beautiful karsts that tower above you - its about as picturesque as you can get while sipping a cold one. Perhaps the highlight of the tubing though was about 15 minutes before the end, when we gently floated by a herd of water buffalo who were keeping cool by staying 90 percent submerged in the water, poking their heads out while they snorted and masticated on their cud. Jacqui found their rhythmic chewing a bit freaky and kept her distance, while I paddled a little closer for a better look and the chance to get a couple of decent photos.
Once you're done with tubing, people generally wander back into the town and lie, semi comatose, in one of the many TV bars that show episodes of Friends, Family Guy and The Simpsons endlessly until you eventually tire of guffawing morons and manage to haul yourself off to bed. This is a fun town, but its hardly authentic Laos. We're glad we came but a couple of days was enough. Onward to Vientiane for Laos New Year and the enormous water fight that comes with it.
Vang Vieng appears to be the kind of place a young man can get stuck for a while - as proven by the number of Western bar staff and tourist reps in town, who apparently work for little more than their keep and their fill of buckets of Lao Lao rice whisky with Coke/Sprite/Red Bull. The 'cool thing' to do if you're an experienced Vang Vienger is to daub yourself in marker pen before you hit the river. Although those who'd gotten their mates to write on their backs were generally daubed in messages to potential suitors on what to expect: eg, "I will ignore you in the morning" was written in big letters on the back of a posey-looking guy with a bad moustache.
Anyway, once you've had your fill of all the tomfoolery at the bars, you can set off in your tube down the river. With fairly minimal paddling, it took us just under three hours to drift lazily back towards the town. One entrepreneurial soul was stood at the riverside selling cold Beerlao, with a buddy posted about 40 minutes down river collecting the empties. Good thinking, as it can get roastingly hot with the sun reflecting off the water.
The scenery as you bob along is breathtaking. Many of Laos' rivers are surrounded by beautiful karsts that tower above you - its about as picturesque as you can get while sipping a cold one. Perhaps the highlight of the tubing though was about 15 minutes before the end, when we gently floated by a herd of water buffalo who were keeping cool by staying 90 percent submerged in the water, poking their heads out while they snorted and masticated on their cud. Jacqui found their rhythmic chewing a bit freaky and kept her distance, while I paddled a little closer for a better look and the chance to get a couple of decent photos.
Once you're done with tubing, people generally wander back into the town and lie, semi comatose, in one of the many TV bars that show episodes of Friends, Family Guy and The Simpsons endlessly until you eventually tire of guffawing morons and manage to haul yourself off to bed. This is a fun town, but its hardly authentic Laos. We're glad we came but a couple of days was enough. Onward to Vientiane for Laos New Year and the enormous water fight that comes with it.
Sunday, 12 April 2009
Phonsavan, Laos: Mystery jars and secret wars.
From Luang Prabang we headed east on another long bus trip (no matter where you go by bus in Laos, it takes nine hours. Actual distance covered seems to be irrelevant). We eventually found ourselves in Phonsavan, a fairly nondescript little town with two claims to fame: it plays host to the Plain of Jars, and to a huge percentage of the unexploded ordnance left behind in Laos by the Secret War.
The jars first. The Plain of Jars is actually a number of sites all round Phonsavan which boast collections of huge stone jars, in some cases hundreds of them. Nobody knows for certain when they were made or what they were used for. Educated guesses suggest they were either funerary urns or used to store rice whisky, though no one is entirely sure. They make for a quite majestic and somewhat eerie sight, especially as it was pouring with rain when we saw them.
The mystery attached to them is played up by the Laos tourist industry, but a huge reason why they haven't been investigated more thoroughly is Phonsavan's second claim to fame: unexploded ordnance. Between 1964 and 1973 the US conducted a secret, and illegal, bombing campaign against Laos which saw at least three million tonnes of bombs dropped on this peaceful country. So secret was this bombing campaign that some American pilots were told they were bombing Vietnam and Congress had no idea the war was taking place. The secrecy can be explained in part by the blatant illegality of the war, which broke the Geneva Conventions that classed Laos as a neutral country. Perhaps it can also be explained by those responsible wanting to cover up their brutality. Laos was reportedly hit by an average of one B-52 bomb every eight minutes, 24 hours a day, from 1964 to 1973. More bombs were dropped on Laos in this period that were used in the whole of the Second World War. Estimates suggest that around 30 percent of these bombs, or 80 million of them, failed to detonate, and Laos remains littered with these bombs. Many of them are cluster bombs, packed with small round 'bombies' that pose a particular threat to children. As well as causing injuries and deaths, these bombs help to keep the Laos people in poverty, as many of them are subsistence farmers, too afraid to work new land for fear of bombs. Try searching Youtube for 'Laos Bombies' to find an excellent documentary we were shown about this continuing problem.
International charities such as MAG are doing what they can to clear the bombs and free the Laos people. However, the US government is not doing very much at all to help. It seems the secrecy around the bombing of Laos continues to let the perpetrators off the hook.
The jars first. The Plain of Jars is actually a number of sites all round Phonsavan which boast collections of huge stone jars, in some cases hundreds of them. Nobody knows for certain when they were made or what they were used for. Educated guesses suggest they were either funerary urns or used to store rice whisky, though no one is entirely sure. They make for a quite majestic and somewhat eerie sight, especially as it was pouring with rain when we saw them.
The mystery attached to them is played up by the Laos tourist industry, but a huge reason why they haven't been investigated more thoroughly is Phonsavan's second claim to fame: unexploded ordnance. Between 1964 and 1973 the US conducted a secret, and illegal, bombing campaign against Laos which saw at least three million tonnes of bombs dropped on this peaceful country. So secret was this bombing campaign that some American pilots were told they were bombing Vietnam and Congress had no idea the war was taking place. The secrecy can be explained in part by the blatant illegality of the war, which broke the Geneva Conventions that classed Laos as a neutral country. Perhaps it can also be explained by those responsible wanting to cover up their brutality. Laos was reportedly hit by an average of one B-52 bomb every eight minutes, 24 hours a day, from 1964 to 1973. More bombs were dropped on Laos in this period that were used in the whole of the Second World War. Estimates suggest that around 30 percent of these bombs, or 80 million of them, failed to detonate, and Laos remains littered with these bombs. Many of them are cluster bombs, packed with small round 'bombies' that pose a particular threat to children. As well as causing injuries and deaths, these bombs help to keep the Laos people in poverty, as many of them are subsistence farmers, too afraid to work new land for fear of bombs. Try searching Youtube for 'Laos Bombies' to find an excellent documentary we were shown about this continuing problem.
International charities such as MAG are doing what they can to clear the bombs and free the Laos people. However, the US government is not doing very much at all to help. It seems the secrecy around the bombing of Laos continues to let the perpetrators off the hook.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Luang Nam Tha, Laos: Better dog-tired than dead.
The bus from Luang Prabang to rural Luang Nam Tha in the north of Laos was surprisingly painless, given it takes nine hours and Lao roads are windy and bumpy (vomit bags provided). Our seats reclined, the bus had air-con, we even got some kip and arrived still feeling human. No such luck with the return journey, more on this later.
On our first day here we did some research on going trekking in the Nam Tha National Protected Area (NPA), and treks sounded interesting, including visits to hilltribes and lunch with great views of the surrounding NPA. Then at dinner in the evening, an English man best described as a tedious buffoon was lurching from table to table (I don't think he was drunk, though he had probably overindulged in stronger things in his youth) asking everybody why they came to Luang Nam Tha if they weren't going to trek into the wilds of the NPA 'to see the tigers'. If I say that he looked like a cross between these three men, but with a stare that was both manic yet vacant, then you can probably form an accurate mental image of the man. But it was not only the trek-shy who had gotten his goat. He was also unhappy at how many Chinese workers there are in Laos, and how many 'falang' (foreigners), and couldn't wait to tell this to anyone in sight - be they Laos or falang. He wasn't aggressive in it, he was just a berk. I wish he'd asked me if I agreed on there being too many foreigners in Laos so that I might have answered: "Only slightly".
We settled on a trek that started at one hilltribe village and ended at another, donating the Laos/English children's books we'd bought at Big Brother Mouse in Luang Prabang to schools in the village. It gave the kids a giggle as two funny-looking foreigners rocked up dishing out pressies, I think, but the teacher seemed appreciative. Once into the jungle, our guide showed off his knowledge of which plants and roots the villagers use and what for, as we struggled on the uphill climb on slippery clay that had been subjected to three massive downpours in two days. Shortly after a feisty little creature resembling a turbo-charged guinea pig with a tail had frightened Jacqui by darting out from the bamboo plants and practically over her toes, we stopped for lunch. This consisted of chopped baby pumpkin with pork mince, sticky rice, some mushed up ferns with some grey stuff, and pork scratchings. And it was most delicious.
After lunch, things got properly jungley. I don't think many people had been doing this trek lately as our guide spent half the time hacking through the undergrowth and holding up thorny branches for us to crawl under. He said it was because of the storms, but I wasn't so sure. I think even the villagers hadn't been on certain sections of the trail in a good while. Eventually, we made it to our end point: a fantastic village of Lanten tribespeople, strewn with laughing kids, women weaving and making paper out of bamboo pulp, and countless cute black piglets causing mayhem and disturbing the afternoon snoozing of many a tribe dog. Exhausted, we clambered into the car and got straight into the shower when we got back to the hotel.
The bus back to Luang Prabang was a shocker. No air-con option this time, nor any legroom. We had people sitting on plastic stools in the middle aisle - not us, fortunately. The bus was unbearably slow, and it was about 10 hours later that we arrived, broken and stiff, in Luang Prabang just as it was getting dark. Still, it could have been worse. An English couple we met in Yogyakarta told us a story about a friend of theirs, who had once shared a bus journey in South-East Asia with a dead man who was travelling alone. His friends had put him on the bus, and arranged for him to be met at the other end. I love this story, and it sums up all you need to know about budget travel in this part of the world. I can't help wondering whether he got a double seat to himself. "Plastic stool in the aisle, or prop up the dead guy, sir?"
On our first day here we did some research on going trekking in the Nam Tha National Protected Area (NPA), and treks sounded interesting, including visits to hilltribes and lunch with great views of the surrounding NPA. Then at dinner in the evening, an English man best described as a tedious buffoon was lurching from table to table (I don't think he was drunk, though he had probably overindulged in stronger things in his youth) asking everybody why they came to Luang Nam Tha if they weren't going to trek into the wilds of the NPA 'to see the tigers'. If I say that he looked like a cross between these three men, but with a stare that was both manic yet vacant, then you can probably form an accurate mental image of the man. But it was not only the trek-shy who had gotten his goat. He was also unhappy at how many Chinese workers there are in Laos, and how many 'falang' (foreigners), and couldn't wait to tell this to anyone in sight - be they Laos or falang. He wasn't aggressive in it, he was just a berk. I wish he'd asked me if I agreed on there being too many foreigners in Laos so that I might have answered: "Only slightly".
We settled on a trek that started at one hilltribe village and ended at another, donating the Laos/English children's books we'd bought at Big Brother Mouse in Luang Prabang to schools in the village. It gave the kids a giggle as two funny-looking foreigners rocked up dishing out pressies, I think, but the teacher seemed appreciative. Once into the jungle, our guide showed off his knowledge of which plants and roots the villagers use and what for, as we struggled on the uphill climb on slippery clay that had been subjected to three massive downpours in two days. Shortly after a feisty little creature resembling a turbo-charged guinea pig with a tail had frightened Jacqui by darting out from the bamboo plants and practically over her toes, we stopped for lunch. This consisted of chopped baby pumpkin with pork mince, sticky rice, some mushed up ferns with some grey stuff, and pork scratchings. And it was most delicious.
After lunch, things got properly jungley. I don't think many people had been doing this trek lately as our guide spent half the time hacking through the undergrowth and holding up thorny branches for us to crawl under. He said it was because of the storms, but I wasn't so sure. I think even the villagers hadn't been on certain sections of the trail in a good while. Eventually, we made it to our end point: a fantastic village of Lanten tribespeople, strewn with laughing kids, women weaving and making paper out of bamboo pulp, and countless cute black piglets causing mayhem and disturbing the afternoon snoozing of many a tribe dog. Exhausted, we clambered into the car and got straight into the shower when we got back to the hotel.
The bus back to Luang Prabang was a shocker. No air-con option this time, nor any legroom. We had people sitting on plastic stools in the middle aisle - not us, fortunately. The bus was unbearably slow, and it was about 10 hours later that we arrived, broken and stiff, in Luang Prabang just as it was getting dark. Still, it could have been worse. An English couple we met in Yogyakarta told us a story about a friend of theirs, who had once shared a bus journey in South-East Asia with a dead man who was travelling alone. His friends had put him on the bus, and arranged for him to be met at the other end. I love this story, and it sums up all you need to know about budget travel in this part of the world. I can't help wondering whether he got a double seat to himself. "Plastic stool in the aisle, or prop up the dead guy, sir?"
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
Luang Prabang, Laos: Keeping at alms length.
We left Chiang Rai early last Tuesday morning, to make our way to Laos. A minibus took us to the Thai border, where we got our exit stamps, then a short boat trip across the river marking the border between the two countries (is this river in no country?) took us into Laos immigration, where we got our visas, eventually, after much waiting and a frankly bizarre attempt by one of the officials to return to me every passport except my own (including those of some men, and one middle-aged French woman: he looked at each of the photos before asking if it was mine.) We were then deposited in the back of a truck and taken to the slowboat pier, where the chap from our tour company informed us, as he was running back to his car, that the boat was leaving two hours later than we had been told. Never mind. They do call it a slowboat, after all.
The trip down the Mekong river into Laos is spectacularly beautiful, and by far the best way of entering the country. You have two options: the speedboat, which takes six hours, or the slowboat, which takes two days. Seems like something of a no-brainer... However, the speedboats require you to wear a helmet, are endlessly noisy and have a somewhat unfortunate predilection for exploding into smithereens should they come into contact with anything solid, like, say, driftwood, or weeds. So we went with the more time-consuming, but less life-endangering option. The more sedate pace of the slowboat lets you savour the spectacular views, and despite the uncomfortable wooden benches, was well worth doing.
After a long, hot and uncomfortable journey, our expectations of Luang Prabang were high - it had to be worth it! Luckily, it was. The whole town is UNESCO World Heritage listed, and this, along with a comparatively low number of tourists, has ensured that it has retained all of its charm without selling out to the 'falang' (foreigners), like much of Thailand has. The streets are wide, well-maintained and clean, the buildings are French colonial in style and utterly charming and the whole place has a relaxed, quaint friendly feel to it. In keeping with it's colonial history, food in Luang Prabang is fantastic, our favourite being the street baguette vendors. Our hotel was also excellent. In fact, everything in Luang Prabang was. Sorry to gush, but it really is a special place.
As well as preserving (the good bits of) the town's colonial history, UNESCO and the government are keen to maintain the local Laos traditions. To this end, there is a curfew in place that requires all businesses to close by 11.30 and everyone to be home by midnight. This only adds to the fairytale-like charm of the place, though I suppose you're more likely to end up in prison than turn into a pumpkin. The curfew is designed in part to protect the traditional daily life of the devoutly Buddhist locals, where the day starts at 5.30am with alms-giving to the local monks. Women place mats at the side of the road and kneel, and hand out sticky rice to a procession of monks. It's a beautiful and sacred sight, which a wealth of information available locally asks you to observe with respect. Unfortunately, some tourists just can't help themselves. We watched in horror as one women walked up to within two feet of the monks and knelt down to take close-up photos. Some tourists even buy rice from street vendors and join in. It's sad to see a sacred tradition abused as a tourist attraction, and it seems like despite the best efforts of the authorities, there will always be some selfish Westerner who can't think of anything except getting a good photo.
As well as getting angry with tourists, we spent our time in Luang Prabang visiting the museum, a former royal palace whose most important inhabitant now is the Pha Bang - a sacred Buddha statue after which the town is named; climbing far too many steps up a far too big hill on a far too hot day to see some temples (admittedly beautiful, I'm just not much of a climber); visiting a local market, where a toddler, after some encouragement from her Dad, squirted us both in the face with a water-pistol; and getting a traditional Laos massage at the local Red Cross, which was pleasingly firm while also a good deed.
Speaking of good deeds, we also had a chance to drop into a local charity called Big Brother Mouse, an amazing organisation that works on writing and printing books for Laos children, both translations of classics like The Wizard of Oz and new stories of their own. There is a huge lack of printed books in Laos, and the few that are available tend to be either a little on the dry side or only available in English. Big Brother Mouse was started as a way of introducing Laos children to the joy of reading through interesting, well-illustrated books that would fire the imagination. We went along to a session they run for local kids to meet tourists and practice their English, and spent a really interesting couple of hours talking to teenagers who really appreciate the chance to show off their language skills, improve their pronunciation, and (in one case) mischievously ask how they might acquire an English girlfriend.
The trip down the Mekong river into Laos is spectacularly beautiful, and by far the best way of entering the country. You have two options: the speedboat, which takes six hours, or the slowboat, which takes two days. Seems like something of a no-brainer... However, the speedboats require you to wear a helmet, are endlessly noisy and have a somewhat unfortunate predilection for exploding into smithereens should they come into contact with anything solid, like, say, driftwood, or weeds. So we went with the more time-consuming, but less life-endangering option. The more sedate pace of the slowboat lets you savour the spectacular views, and despite the uncomfortable wooden benches, was well worth doing.
After a long, hot and uncomfortable journey, our expectations of Luang Prabang were high - it had to be worth it! Luckily, it was. The whole town is UNESCO World Heritage listed, and this, along with a comparatively low number of tourists, has ensured that it has retained all of its charm without selling out to the 'falang' (foreigners), like much of Thailand has. The streets are wide, well-maintained and clean, the buildings are French colonial in style and utterly charming and the whole place has a relaxed, quaint friendly feel to it. In keeping with it's colonial history, food in Luang Prabang is fantastic, our favourite being the street baguette vendors. Our hotel was also excellent. In fact, everything in Luang Prabang was. Sorry to gush, but it really is a special place.
As well as preserving (the good bits of) the town's colonial history, UNESCO and the government are keen to maintain the local Laos traditions. To this end, there is a curfew in place that requires all businesses to close by 11.30 and everyone to be home by midnight. This only adds to the fairytale-like charm of the place, though I suppose you're more likely to end up in prison than turn into a pumpkin. The curfew is designed in part to protect the traditional daily life of the devoutly Buddhist locals, where the day starts at 5.30am with alms-giving to the local monks. Women place mats at the side of the road and kneel, and hand out sticky rice to a procession of monks. It's a beautiful and sacred sight, which a wealth of information available locally asks you to observe with respect. Unfortunately, some tourists just can't help themselves. We watched in horror as one women walked up to within two feet of the monks and knelt down to take close-up photos. Some tourists even buy rice from street vendors and join in. It's sad to see a sacred tradition abused as a tourist attraction, and it seems like despite the best efforts of the authorities, there will always be some selfish Westerner who can't think of anything except getting a good photo.
As well as getting angry with tourists, we spent our time in Luang Prabang visiting the museum, a former royal palace whose most important inhabitant now is the Pha Bang - a sacred Buddha statue after which the town is named; climbing far too many steps up a far too big hill on a far too hot day to see some temples (admittedly beautiful, I'm just not much of a climber); visiting a local market, where a toddler, after some encouragement from her Dad, squirted us both in the face with a water-pistol; and getting a traditional Laos massage at the local Red Cross, which was pleasingly firm while also a good deed.
Speaking of good deeds, we also had a chance to drop into a local charity called Big Brother Mouse, an amazing organisation that works on writing and printing books for Laos children, both translations of classics like The Wizard of Oz and new stories of their own. There is a huge lack of printed books in Laos, and the few that are available tend to be either a little on the dry side or only available in English. Big Brother Mouse was started as a way of introducing Laos children to the joy of reading through interesting, well-illustrated books that would fire the imagination. We went along to a session they run for local kids to meet tourists and practice their English, and spent a really interesting couple of hours talking to teenagers who really appreciate the chance to show off their language skills, improve their pronunciation, and (in one case) mischievously ask how they might acquire an English girlfriend.
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