Philippines or not?

Myanmar - Philippines - Myanmar - Philippines? This was my ponder point as I splashed and squelched my way through heavy rain in Chiang Mai under my bright yellow $3 7Eleven umbrella. I'd met many people mesmerised by Myanmar, including a French girl who was pining for the place even though she'd spent 2 out of 4 weeks there with serious food poisoning from a veggie samoosa, compounded by ineptly prescribed drugs. Several days of rain gave me an excuse to sleep, read, think.

And the Philippines it was. The deciding factor? Sogod Bay, a place of magical wall dives according to the folk at Coral Cay Conservation, an NGO I'd considered volunteering with. So I booked the guilt-laced gazillion flights I needed to get me there and on to Indonesia, trying to refrain from panicked calculations and recalculations of how big a hole it was blowing in my optimistic budget (worked out at a time when super budget fares were still available). And I extended my return ticket to London while I was at it. On what planet does anyone need more than a couple of days to re-acclimatise to UK summer-suspense, driving rain, sharp elbowed commuters and economic gloom?


Chiang Mai should have, but hasn't got, its own proper post. This is because, although 3 days drifted into 9, my time there was spent doing v. little apart from communing with Mr Air Asia, the friendly fruit shake lady and the hippy sandal makers down the road from my hostel (who also provided a dreadlock-grooming/creation service....); taking one cookery course; and doing some zipwiring. The latter was a much-needed adrenalin shot which jolted me out of my lazing around. I am slightly ashamed to admit that I only made it to one temple, but two Sunday markets.


After Chiang Mai, a brief stop in Bangkok had me singing in my head (or, who knows, maybe it was really out loud) "oh I love love LOVE Bangkok". Not infatuation but love. I saw completely different parts of it this time. A visit to the Vimamek Palace (interesting but short, as I overlapped with several large, guided tour groups with culturally different volume control and spatial comfort zones) took me through drab concrete areas where noisy schoolkids were queuing for lunch: boys at the makeshift stalls selling deep-fried stuff and girls...at the fruit cart. Food politics is global and rapidly becoming age-unlimited! A 3hour hospital visit (the ENT specialist poured BETADINE!!!! into my ears and then- ow ow- used a needle to prise something off my eardrum, with stern warnings not to move; I'm hoping it wasn't my tympanic membrane he removed) took me through a part hosting wealthy Middle Eastern tourists. A part where the fruit vendors sell special watermelon - costing not 10, but 50baht a portion. Feeling poor after the hospital bill, I made my way back to cheaper suburbs and my original green chilli-challenge street cafe where I had a spicy fresh squid salad and a portion of sun-dried sugar-glazed pork for supper. Greedy huh? I tell myself its gotta be done when you're travelling solo otherwise you miss out.

Then onwards to Kuala Lumpur for an overnight airport kip...or in my case, a mildly paranoid eyelid propper-opener. The paranoia was unwarranted, as, after the length of time I'd been travelling, no-one would have risked coming within a mile of my feet, let alone braving the innards of my bags. And then a flight to Clark, Philippines. I learnt just in time for workable ticket-stacking that Clark is an airfield rather than an airport (picture Harare International after most of the world's airlines stopped landing there) and is three hours out of Manila. Makes European budget airline city descriptors look accurate. I came to know Clark well. Jeez I'm waffling on and even boring myself. I'm procrastinating with the upload of Philippines pictures which will take around 6hours. So, this post can mark Thailand round #2 but as I mainly slept and ate, there are only some lazy gratuitous pictures of Chiang Mai (below: the Organic Farm (cookery course), zipwiring, markets). As you may have gathered, I have a soft spot for markets. I'll post on the Philippines separately.


Posted: 24 June 2012

 

Laos - Land of Lychees, Lergies and Pink-bellied Buffalo

 

The 20-hour ride from Hanoi to Vientiane - which has earned the name-badge "the bus from hell" on travellers' fora - was pretty comfy, apart from the border wait where the bus toilet next to me started to brim with, let's say, morning business (I have seen worse at music festivals). Clearly Virak Buntham bus has made me strong!

After Vietnam, it was a pleasure to cycle on roads where the traffic seemed to be following some rules (e.g. red light means stop). But Vientiane had little of interest apart from a fierce dust-storm which whipped its way up into town from the vast, dry Mekong riverbed and ferocious heat that caused my cigarette lighter to explode.

So, onwards to Vang Vieng, a bizarre place: a whole town of backpacker cafes, playing episodes of Friends or South Park. Backpackers float on tubes (inner tubes of tractor tyres) down the river, stopping at bars along the way to drink promotional (free) rice-whisky bucket-cocktails and then return to town, to recover in the cafes before hitting the vomit-pit night spots on "party island" in the middle of the river. "Happy" cuisine is openly advertised: menus kept in the back of these cafes list shakes and meals with various concoctions of opium, ganja, mushrooms etc as well as listing the joint/gram price. And with roughly 2 twits meeting their maker in VV annually, popular tshirt slogans include "I survived Vang Vieng" with suitably tasteless (and admittedly quite funny) pictures.







It's well known that this is what VV is about, and many avoid it. But it was strangely compelling to watch all the shenanigans, even if it made me cringe and sigh a little internally at what Laos people have let in and now have to put up with. No wonder they seemed a bit tourist-fatigued. The sign (above) outside the ATM sums up polite official exasperation towards the saturated hordes. I think the bank must have gone to the same sign-writers as these guys (right):

I went for the scenery of course...seriously. Absolutely stunning lime karst scenery, which makes the place worth stopping in. Armed with a kilo of lychees in case I starved on the way (no, not really - they cost $1 and I was being monumentally greedy), I cycled out to a place called the Organic Farm, hoping for some good food and a tour, to learn about the work on the farm and its community projects. Unfortunately for it, the farm is right next to the tubing drop off. At midday, the music was ok, but by 2pm, the volume had been cranked up and there were 3 river bars playing clashing soundtracks in a cacaphony which is unlikely to do much good for the Organic Farm's accommodation/restaurant business. Which is a pity because they made the best fresh spring rolls I've eaten so far. In a brave attempt to "join 'em", the farm has set up a mojito bar near the tubing drop off point, selling the usual cocktails alongside mulberry mojitos and mulberry wine, wine with signs advertising their volunteer teaching programme. Admirable optimism.

Then on to Luang Prabang, a laid-back place on the confluence of the Mekong and Khan rivers, where my first night was pretty dramatic. Lightening hit a pylon down the road and it burst into an electric firework display in the heavy rain, filling the street with smoke. I went down with the guesthouse owner and a group of pyjama-ed locals to check it out and was pretty impressed when the electricty board dudes zooted around the corner in a new yellow jeep 5mins later. This is not to say that such a car means a speedier fix-it rate than ZESA. Oh but I'm just being mean. They were still working hard - abseiling amongst a frightening tangle of wires - the next afternoon and in the end, it only took about a day to fix.

Next morning, I kitted myself out with a lovely purple bike to zip around temples (LP has dozens with active monasteries). But alas, my stomach proved not to be cast iron after all and a few days were spent prone and cursing the all-you-can-eat-for-about-$1 vegetarian buffet. Proof that 2 chopstick-loads of cold greens and noodles (all I could eat in the end -perhaps the sign was a wicked joke and not a generous dinner offer?) can poison you if they've been sitting around long enough. Although the laap - a deliciously addictive Laos dish of minced chicken or pork or whatever-you-want mixed with fresh herbs (coriander, mint) - was not kind to me either. I met a couple living in Thailand who said they get sick every time they go to Laos, so maybe it's just the bugs living there. When I got around to seeing some temples, I was heartened and tickled to see that the monks struggle with street food too (temple sign, right).

Any trip to LP has to include a visit to the Kuang Si Waterfall - where the waterpools are an acquamarine colour which I just wasn't able to capture in photos. The expressions on the faces of the monk novices (below) may be a better reflection of how lovely it is. Equipped with cameras, phones and an iPad, they were ooohing at and snapping the main waterfall. This has a pool below it signposted "Not for swimming area". I asked myself, "what would my friend HH do?" and that settled it for me - in such a beautiful spot, this sign is a taunt, not a deterrent. It was chilly, but definitely the best place along the river to take the plunge.



My favourite part of Laos was the trip out, and not just because I was escaping the food bugs. I had an alarming reflection-flash as I was leaving that I may just love the moving-on part of travelling a little too much for a settled life (eeek! Nicky, maybe you were right about the impossibility of curing itchy feet). Anyway, I caught a couple of slow boats up the Mekong river, overnighting in Pakbeng. From afar - and just at the point in the journey when you can't feel your backside and are beginning to notice how loud the boat engine is - Pakbeng appears as a welcoming hill-tumble of buildings on a picturesque bend in the river, and to its credit, a glimpse of the morning alms ceremony here felt like less of a photo-circus than in Luang Prabang.

But bottom line? Dire place when you actually climb that hill to those buildings. Surely the armpit of the world? There's a funny traveller account here which captures the feel of the place. I managed to avoid the traveller hordes (by travelling upstream) and the rats.

Anyway, back to the river. What a wonderful way to travel, catching glimpses of the way people live in remote areas and interact with the river - which is so big it has its own beaches and makes the Thames look like a spit dribble. It was low water, so there were a few rapids to negotiate, which our captain did skilfully, guided by plastic bottles bobbing in the water to indicate where the jaggedy underwater rocks were. We stopped to drop people off at villages along the way - at least once attracting a crowd of excited, kamikaze kids who sped down the sand dunes (pausing halfway to whip off their clothes) and then somersaulted into the shallows. We passed fisherman; gold panners; pink-bellied buffalo; monks on temple laundry rota with orange buckets and robes scattered along the shoreline; kids playing on tractor tyres; teenage girls having their evening river-shower; a long boat crammed with people, one guy precariously strumming a guitar; and, as we neared Huay Xai (possibly the other armpit of the world), a riot of wealthier weekenders with barbeques, cars blaring music, and large bright inflatable floatables. There was so much to see I hardly touched my book.



It was a magical way to spend 2 days, and I'd go back to do just that trip again - even with Pakbeng and its 50min cold fried rice included in the deal. It made me think that this is one country where I really should have travelled a long way off the beaten track. Maybe later.

Posted: 1 June 2012



 

Viva Vietnam!

"Hmm I'm not so sure about the elephant ride - not the sort of thing I'd usually choose to do but it seems to be part of the package and it might be fun". Weary words after a long day on the road and a few beers. K's response was philosophical if a little surreal. "Well after swinging my leg on and off a motorbike all day...an elephant tomorrow should be no problem". We both collapsed in laughter at the mental image.

This mildly hysterical laughter continued the next day: as we balanced ourselves atop the sad old beast, feeling absurd (me wincingly so - was there adequate padding between our metal bench saddle thingy and the ele's spine?); as we realised how jolt-lurchy the ride was going to be and how our saddle was kept on - by a precarious and not very comfy-looking relationship with the ele's tail; as ele snatched perilously at fresh bamboo leaves mid-descent of a steep embankment (clearly tastier than the dry straw scattered on the road at photo opp. points); and as the people on the ele in front of us screamed a little as their ele rebelled and knelt for a proper dip, mid-river, wetting their shoes. Our laughter only stopped when our ele tried to do the same and squealed as he got metal-spiked by the mahout. Oh no! Distress! Confirmation of my misgivings about this jaunt. For the rest of the ride, I had to keep pretending that this must be better for our ele than a working life lugging heavier things than people.

K and I were doing a 2-day motorbike tour with the Easy Riders, from the lovely Da Lat in the highlands down to Nha Trang on the coast. Da Lat is a place of whispering pine trees; the scent of roasting, caramelising sweet potatoes - the white-fleshed ones like the mbambaira you get back home; market stalls with mountains of avocados; vats of mulberries; artichoke tea; chewy sugar-bomb dried strawberries; and cakes to die for.

Our Easy Riders, Su and Phuoc (right), were relaxed, knowledgeable dudes with a sense of humour. We meandered through the mountains stopping often to take in the scenery, stretch our legs, and to learn about local industry/agriculture: a flower farm, coffee, tea, tapioca, turmeric (yes, really), sugar cane, cocoa, and pepper plantations, a silk factory, basket weaving, a rickety rice-noodle production line (2 people), a mini rice wine brewery in someone's kitchen - tasting included - and even a tiny brick factory. We encountered delighted, daring kids holding out their hands to whack ours as we passed on the bikes (ouch for them); got caught in bicycle commuter traffic (in Vietnam cities, it's motorbikes rather than bicycles); and swapped details of our backgrounds with Su and Phuoc over 333 beer and vast tableloads of amazing food at 'local price'. After a second day of hard riding and the slightly hairy experience of Highway One at rush hour, we left the Easy Riders in Nha Trang clutching soft-seat train tickets they'd sorted for us, as well as recommendations for a guesthouse and tailors in Hoi An. Ele-ride hiccup aside, this trip was the highlight of my time in Vietnam: I came away from it marvelling at the fertility of the land (is there anything that isn't grown in Vietnam?) and with a deep-rooted respect for how resourceful, resilient and hard-working the people are. I have plans to eat baked beans on toast for many months so that I can return to do a longer bike trip.

(Pics above: hilltop view of rice paddies; young poser; rice harvest; rice wine brewery; silk factory; fishing village near Nha Trang - boats and fishing nets; and lastly, my future retirement home on a small cocoa farm, complete with satellite dish.)

And the rest of Vietnam? Well, K and I had met up in Ho Chi Minh City, which the locals still call "Saigon". I quite liked the feel of the place, although I have to confess that, after 2 days of bus travel from Sihanoukville, the simple imprint which Saigon left on my brain was one of many many motorbikes, a very black and dead looking Black River, some coffee shops and local restaurants I'd like to explore further, and streetside fruit shakes which were works of tastebud art. The visit to Cao Dai temple was unexpectedly fascinating (must read more about this) and the Cu Chi Tunnels were claustrophobic, sobering, but a little marred by the "tourist information" film which made ZTV broadcasts look like balanced investigative reportage (yeah, tone the propoganda down a bit guys. "Brave guerillas" might capture more minds than "hero American killers".)

(Pics above: Cao Dai Holy See)

After the Da Lat-Nha Trang trip, we spent a relatively comfy night in soft seats on the train to Danang for Hoi An. There was more laughter (suppressed of course) at the state of the pair of monk's feet which took up residence on my armrest for the journey.

Hoi An was a delight. A faded old city with slightly crumbling buildings and handsome teakwood merchant houses. We subjected ourselves to public measurement humiliation at the tailor's and then spent the next few days eating great food and mozeying about - renting bicycles to ride out through rice paddies to a couple of beaches and to a pottery village where K impressed the local potters, having a go on the wheel. The potters kept telling me she had "clever hands" (always an option my friend if London gets too much!)

(Pics above: Hoi An)

Then on to Hue for a quick stopover, where the highlight was the Thien Mu Pagoda. We caught the sound of a large singing bowl being rung by a monk. Oh, this is a sound every office should be compelled to play at lunch time to calm frazzled minds. After Hue, we dashed to Hanoi for a Halong Bay boat trip. We had fun kayaking in Halong Bay, but having seen that water, I now realise how naive I was donning my swimming cozi beforehand ("maybe on a 5day luxury cruise, and the equivalent distance from shore, love!"). We also caught a charming water puppet show in Hanoi - which I made more entertaining for the privileged, bored group of teenage schooltrippers in the audience when I nearly bailed headlong down the theatre stairs. There was talk of me keeping a public humilaition log, but it would now just take too long to compile. Am I this much of a clown back home? Answers preferably NOT in the public comments boxes below! One memory souvenir I have of Hanoi is that of loads of young people sitting on very low chairs on the pavements outside cafes in the French Quarter, drinking iced green tea, and cracking sunflower seeds, creating a quaint and lovely soundtrack to evening conversation.

In Hanoi, I bid a lonesome farewell to K as she headed to the airport and I trudged off to the train station, bound for the hills of Sa Pa and H'mong weekend markets, hoping that I was not going to be the only woman in my 6 berth "hard sleeper" compartment. Of course I wasn't. There was a lovely Vietnamese family who shared their pumpkin seeds with me. The train had a minor accident, but we made it there in the end.

Sa Pa is a magical, restorative place to while away some time gazing at the mountains (above) and drinking tasty teas and infusions, which is mostly what I did, save for a rain-shortened village walk and a trip to Bac Ha market. The market has lots of tourist stuff, so is best visited to watch the local people trading everything from agricultural implements to traditional medicine. I was reminded that some things are universal when I sat down to have lunch next to a Hmong woman (most of the other foreigners seemed to have legged it back to menu-ed cocacola cafes once theyd photographed the pigs trotters etc). This lady suddenly gestured to the stallholder, pointed with disgust to something - a hair in her noodle soup- and demanded a new bowl! I ate mine quickly at squint-distance.





(Pics above from the walk to Lao Chai village, near Sa Pa)







(Pics above: Bac Ha market - traders mainly from the Flower H'mong. Selling? From top: sugar cane; bamboo shoots and veg; traditional medicine (I think); chilies; rice wine/whisky; food stalls; heading home)

So Vietnam? Apart from having one of the coolest flags in the world, Vietnam touched a few soft spots and I have no doubt that I will return (babe, start stocking up on the baked beans).

Posted: 6 May 2012