Lovely, lovely Laos, part two

It was with a heavy heart that we left Luang Prabang - not only had we fallen on love with this town, our journey south signified the last stage of our trip. Once we left Laos, there were only two weeks remaining to rejuvenate ourselves on the Thai islands... I know, I'm really tugging at everyone's heart strings right now. Pity us, and our wonderful holiday!

But first, we still had Vang Vieng and Vientiane to consume: the first being the infamous tubing town; the second the über-relaxed capital of this small nation.

The bus trip (actually it was a minivan-such luxury!) from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng was a vast improvement to our previous transport experience, and one that took us through the back streets of the Laos countryside, over the tops of mountain passes, through lush jungle-clad valleys and along patched up roads that had been hit by landslides. At one point the paved road just disappeared off the edge of a cliff, and to the left were two old guys digging out the mountainside to carve a new path for us to drive along. The landscape in Laos is spectacular. I don't think I have seen so many lush shades of green in such a short space of time. Rice paddy fields swayed next to swathes of old jungle forest - surely some of the last remaining in the world - their canopies reaching up to the sky where they are met by karst-like peaks that carve their way through the clouds, giving way to scrub and hardier plants that can only survive at such altitudes. It really was a paradise of flora, with so many different varieties, all in the same breathtaking scene.

Here's one I paved earlier...

After six hours of bumpiness and in parts, a painstakingly slow ride (our driver seemed to have no confidence in his brakes; instead choosing to drive down each mountain in first gear and at a speed of 10 km/h, we arrived safely in Vang Vieng, back on the riverbanks of the Mekong and in the loving embrace of what seemed like 10,000 hostels looking for business. Vang Vieng used to receive backpackers in their droves - gap yaahs and 'never go homes' who were seeking thrills and pleasures by sailing down the Mekong in a rubber tube, while being hauled into bars along the riverbank to ingest vast quantities of alcohol and happy pizzas. That is, until numpties started dying along the way because they'd get so off chops and hurl themselves into the river off zip lines and end up banging their heads on rocks and drowning. Fun times! So, last year the Laos government decided to close the whole enterprise down, leaving just three bars in business and a whole load of accommodation sitting empty. Still, better that than people killing themselves. I suppose...

The river wild...

Even though the experience was clearly a fraction of days gone by, we still caught a glimpse of what it must have been like in the heady naughties. You collect your rubber tube in the morning and catch a tuk tuk to a place about three kilometres upriver. Once wedged into our homes for the day, we started to float downstream, karsts on either side of us, with houses dotted along the riverbank interspersed with washing lines and fishermen. The organisers are clearly keen for you to start drinking early as the first stop-off was only 100 metres or so down the river. Water bottles attached to long lengths of rope are hurled into the water which you duly catch and then wait to be dragged onto shore. Once back on terra firma we were given our first Laos whiskey of the day (actually doesn't taste too bad, but is way stronger than it feels), before settling down for a couple of beers while watching the young'uns play a good ol' game of beer pong. Once lubricated, it was time to pick up our tubes and continue downriver to the next bar. More shots, more beer, hot sunshine and really bad music certainly made for a surreal experience, and there were clearly some festive goers who refused to let go of long-forgotten heady days. Body paint came out (not sure how well that goes down once back on the river), singing ensued and we could tell that for some people things were going to get messy. After a couple more hours it was back to our tubes of joy for the next leg of our journey and down to the final bar of the day. I won't deny that by this point the Laos whiskey had started to take effect and things started to get a little hazy. We'd been told that the float back to town was at least another hour down the river and under no circumstances could we arrive back any later than 6pm - not only to ensure you get your deposit back on the tube, but also to make sure you're not sailing along the Mekong in the pitch black and inadvertently heading back to Luang Prabang because you missed the last stop. So, at 5pm we set off on our merry way expecting a relaxing last hour on the water. Bearing in mind we had no way to tell the time on the water, we were completely clueless as to how much further we had to go. Was it around the next bend? As the sun set, the need to 'paddle' (who would have thought that thongs would make such good oars?) became all the more urgent, and our last thirty minutes of floating through paradise were spent concentrating on reaching our destination as fast as possible, all the while sitting in a rubber ring, quite tipsy and with no sense of direction. As the final light started to fade, we saw up ahead people clambering out of the river and hobbling over rocks to what looked like a make-shift path back to town. We paddled furiously to this speck in the distance and got out just as the sky and the Mekong blended into each other under the cover of darkness. I somehow managed to lose my thongs as I was getting out of my tube (two pairs in a week, so unfair!), and they are now probably half way to China. Still, get home we did, and with full desposits rembursed - hurrah! I'm ashamed to say it certainly wasn't a late one, and I was tucked up in bed by 9pm, such is my inability to cope with daytime drinking these days! It was probably for the best though, as the next morning we had an 8am bus down to the capital, Vientiane.

Our journey was fine and swift, not nearly as grand as the trip from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, but still worthy of spectacular countryside views, accompanied by a few good iPod tunes. Vientiane has more of a large town feel to it than a capital city. No one beeps, shouts, pushes past you or vyes to get your custom. Food is cheap and the beer is cheaper, and the only architecture that gives away this city's capital status are a few communist-esque government buildings lined along the river that look over beautiful ancient temples and somewhat detract from their mysticism.

Rush hour in Vientiane 

We only had one night here, as we'd decided to cut our financial losses and fly down to Phuket the next day for extra beach time on the islands. We checked in to a rather strange hostel, run by a worn out Aussie who looked like he should have given up going to raves 20 years ago, but was still clinging on to his 'yoof' by dancing to spaced out ambient music and chatting to his ever-so-young ladyboy wife. (Sadly, Vientiane has its fair share of dirty old western men leering after young beautiful Laos women). After downing bags we set off to explore (well, mainly eat) our way through the town. The food was delicious to say the least and all of what we had come to expect from Laos cuisine. Papaya salad for me; Laos pho for Ais. By evening, we had ventured into the night market in the hope of finding replacement thongs/flip flops (just to clarify) for me, but instead ended up scoffing our faces on salted deep-fried fish and tofu and bbq'd lamb sausages. Money well spent and a great way to finish our Laos outing. 

This was a 500 g fish, and I ate him all. Too fishy for Ais, apparently!

And so, the next day we were up and out early, and on our way to the airport for our very last stop-off: two weeks of doing and achieving nothing, somewhere on a beach in Thailand, where we will no doubt reflect on all the wondrous things we have seen and done over the last six months.

Lovely, lovely Laos - part 1

Luang Prabang 

Laos was never part of our original itinerary; we planned to head straight to Vietnam and then Thailand. But, because Laos borders both these countries, and we were trying to save money (badly) by travelling overland, it seemed an obvious stop-off point. Plus, I have always wanted to visit after hearing such wonderful stories from fellow travellers.

A quick word on Laos history: Laos is the most heavily bombed country on the planet, to date. During the Vietnam war (a war that Laos was not combatant in) the U.S. army dropped over 200 million bombs on this small country, in a bid to close off the Ho Chi Minh route that was plying weapons across the border into Vietnam. That is more bombs than were dropped during the whole of World War II... On one small country. As a result, it is estimated that 80 million 'bombies', or cluster bombs, remain undetonated across the Laos countryside, rendering much of the land on which this poor nation relies, unusable. Even so, Laos people have to risk their lives every day in order to grow food and sustain a living, and over 100 people die each year by accidentally stepping on, ploughing over or inadvertently picking up a bomb. Children often collect cluster bombs and use them as toys, and more recently, a black market is growing for weapons memorabilia to be sold overseas at a high price; a price locals are increasingly willing to risk with their own lives in order to feed their families.

Until recently, the U.S. government refused to even acknowledge this atrocity, and from what research I have done, I can't find any evidence that it is taught in U.S. schools. At the moment, one of the only countries supplying aid in the form of bomb removal experts, prosthetics specialists and awareness is Australia. I do not often put forward articles, but I was so moved by what we saw and believe very strongly in the support that is being given, I've attached this article for you to peruse at will.

http://aid.dfat.gov.au/Publications/Pages/9237_184_8953_7961_6055.aspx

OK, history lesson over with; lets get on with the wonder of Laos: its people, its landscapes, its food, its beer and its towns, all come together to form what might be for me, the perfect SE Asian country. Laos is just gorgeous. From the minute we stepped off the bus to the moment our plane left Vientiane; we soaked up and absorbed Laos' utter beauty like two giant sponges. 

As our tuk tuk drove us into Luang Prabang we were met by hundreds of candlelit lanterns floating into the sky. The city had celebrated its yearly Festival of Lights and we were fortunate enough to catch the last remaining flames before they disappeared into the ether forever. We quickly located some digs, chowed down on a Laos baguette and slept deeply after our immense bus journey.

The next day we explored the old town. Luang Prabang is an UNESCO World Heritage site (the whole town, not just a few buildings...), and its streets are lined with numerous temples, all intricately designed with painstaking care and skill, painted in hues of green, blue and red and lacquered in gold relief. It's like walking through a peaceful technicolour dream. Monks aged eight to 80 live in these auspicious structures and can often be seen walking through Luang Prabang's streets in their vivid orange robes, adding a sense of tranquility and ancient mysticism to the place. The monks still receive alms from the local population every day at 6 am. It is considered a precious and sacred ceremony but one we did not want to intrude upon.

Shoes off before entering the nice temple please...

The Buddhist tree of life

In between the ancient temples and Buddhist traditions colonial French architecture proudly looks on, giving the town a distinct European feel. Add to this the gushing of the mighty Mekong, on which this town stands and you have a truly unique place where you could spend many weeks soaking up the atmosphere, and just be.

As if this wasn't enough, Laos cuisine is some of the finest we've tasted - a melting pot that borrows from different cultures, yet is still distinctly Laotian. Croissants, French pastries and coffee are sold for breakfast; at lunch you might choose between a foot-long baguette, or a Thai-style pancake filled with cheese or chocolate; and at dinner you can sample anything from laap salad to Vietnamese-style noodle soups to the famous Laos curry, or eat the finest green papaya salad I have ever tasted, all made in front of you at the night market.

Yep, that's my papaya salad he's making. You even get to taste it before you buy!

To cap it all off, everything is ridiculously cheap. Dinner can be yours for as little as $1.20, a whole carp stuffed with lemongrass will set you back just under $4 and a 640 ml bottle of beer Laos costs a mere $1.10. AND there are more vegetarian options than you can shake a stick at. So lets just say we ate and drank very well...

 In fact, we fell in love with the food so much that we signed up for a cooking course the following day. Starting early, we were treated to a cooking demonstration of nine dishes, including Laos' famous chilli paste. Of these dishes we got to cook five of our choice. Me, being the sole non-meat eater got a cooking station all to myself, which was probably for the best as I do have a tendency to act executive chef when I'm in the kitchen (although I'm sure none of you have ever witnessed this trait in me...!). Our day started at the local market where we were shown an array of weird and wonderful food for sale: from Burmese pythons to crabs in little wicker harnesses to a type of bark that is used to smoke food from the inside. Buffalo was sold in every permutation possible (tastes like beef, according to Ais): Huge blocks of congealed buffalo blood to flavour soups, buffalo burgers, buffalo steaks, buffalo sausages and not forgetting dried buffalo skin all ensure every part of the animal is used. After collecting our ingredients we headed back to the restaurant for our very own edition of Masterchef.

Python? Tastes like chicken.

The latest in must-have crab fashion accessories - you're very own live crab bangle!

We started off with a classic Luang Prabang salad - nothing fancy, consisting of watercress, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and egg, but taken to a whole new level with the addition of a special homemade mayonnaise - a recipe I just have to share with you for its deliciousness and simplicity. No blender required here!

2 hard-boiled egg yolks

2 tablespoons olive oil

1-2 tablespoons white vinegar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon white pepper

Use a mortar and pestle to pound the egg yolks into a fine paste. Add the remaining ingredients and adjust the seasoning to taste. Use as a salad dressing or as a dip for chips. Mind-blowingly simple and unbelievably tasty. This is definitely my new mayonnaise of choice; although you do end up wasting the egg whites, which is a pity.

We then made stir-fried noodles, Laos-style, which required us to make a fried noodle pancake in a wok before mixing through an egg and adding our vegetables of choice. Voila! And lunch was served.

Luang Prabang salad...

In the afternoon, I opted to make a laap salad with delicious banana flower as the star ingredient, and with enough punch to make it linger on your palate for the rest of the day. I then made a tofu and pea aubegine red curry served with sticky rice and a large helping of fish sauce. This was to be dinner, which we ate approximately three hours after lunch, and therefore sadly under appreciated because we were all still so full! Still, we came away with all the recipes and I'm sure we'll be having a Laos dinner party pretty soon after we get home. You guys bring the beer and we'll do the cooking!

'Did you mean to put that sauce in there?' Ais and Ian get to grips with Laos red curry.

The following day was a wash out (it literally didn't stop raining for 12 hours), so we whiled away the hours sipping coffee and eating pastries to our hearts' content. Sometimes, it's just bliss to do nothing. That night, we met up again with the lovely Ben and Alex and sauntered through the night market, where the tourist 'tat' is not only half decent, but also half the price (if that's possible) of Thailand and Vietnam. At the food market we scoffed our faces with fish and an all-you-can-eat vegan buffet, before finishing the evening at a bar overlooking one of the Mekong's estuaries. And, where I sadly had my favourite havianias stolen from an opportunistic tourist who obviously took a shine to them. That's the last time I leave my shoes at the door!

Friends reunited

On our last day we all took a tuk tuk out to the local 'cascadas', which came with a surprise bear sanctuary attached to it. Here, rescued sun bears from as far away as India come to live out their days in peaceful environs after a life often filled with cruelty and abuse. Apparently in Laos, there is still a demand for bear bile (yes, it is as gross as it sounds), as it is considered a delicacy. And although you don't have to kill a bear to extract said bile, the process is somewhat akin to the cruelty associated with foie gras and definitely doesn't have the bear's best interests at heart. So, when you visit Laos, go say hi to the bears, but don't eat the vile bile! Of course, The waterfalls were beautiful, as waterfalls are wont to be and many-a picture postcard picture was taken. 

A bear in a hammock? There must be a pun in there somewhere. Send your answers to...

I told you they were pretty...

At night we took a small boat (and I mean small: less than a metre wide and close enough to the water to ensure one awkward step would put us all in the drink. I have no idea why no one wanted to have me in their boat!) to the other side of the river, where a small restaurant draped in fairy lights awaited us. We dined on the finest Laos food ($7 - expensive by Laos standards) and drank beer and wine under the starry sky. After successfully navigating the river back to the mainland we farewelled our friends for the third and final time, and made our bleary-eyed way home to bed, for the next day we were taking a minivan to Laos' party (by Laos standards anyway) and tubing capital: Vang Vieng.

Thank you Luang Prabang for being what you are. May you never change and may you reign long as a hidden gem in the middle of the South-East Asian jungle. Adios.

The bus trip - Ha noi to Luang Prabang.

So, 30-hour bus trips. I don't recommend them, funnily enough. 'What?' I hear you cry. What could be more pleasurable than spending 30 hours in exactly the same position in a space the size of a small coffin, where you are neither sitting up or lying down; precariously perched on the 'top bunk' with no bathroom and emergency exits, while you are driven over some of most hair-raising roads we've ever been on, and your only company is your iPod, Kindle and a packet of Pringles. For 30 hours! And we weren't even entirely convinced we were going to Luang Prabang!

Ok, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, and for once my small stature paid dividends as I could lie out while poor Ais had to keep her legs bent the whole time. How anyone over six feet would cope; I have no idea.

Our travelling companions for this leg were five English girls from Essex (no judgement) who were all of 21 and heading to Vang Vieng to get, "fucking wasted, man!" We eventually crossed the border after 12 hours of travelling, a relatively painless experience given the wonderful courtesy of Laos immigration. The girls, however, turned out not to be quite so lucky. At the border they asked with great difficulty to retrieve something from their bags (if the locals can't understand you just start shouting at them and waving your arms around as though your playing drunken charades; that's bound to help clarify the situation!), and after eventually getting the message across were rewarded to find a stowaway puppy in the luggage hold who had (unsurprisingly, and probably from fear) pooed itself all over their backpacks. They were not happy campers....

The next 12 hours were spent navigating Laos' many unpaved roads, where recent landslides had washed away the Tarmac, leaving in places only a dirt track to drive upon. It was certainly slow-going and kudos to our bus driver who didn't send us plummeting to our deaths over the numerous sheer drops that descended from Route 13. Now, we knew at some point the bus was either going to take a detour or either us or the girls were going to have to catch another bus, as Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng  are in opposite directions. When we finally stopped and the girls were asked to jump off we presumed we must be in Vang Vieng. As we'd been travelling for so long we thought we might as well get off too and head to Luang Prabang the following day, as it was getting late and we hadn't booked accommodation. I got off the bus with the girls to enquire if the town was actually Vang Vieng. The town, or rather village, was extremely small and quiet for such a known party paradise, and our suspicions started to get raised. Our bus driver knew exactly what we were asking, but feigned not to understand and before we knew it he was back on the bus and driving away leaving the girls and me on the roadside. Suddenly I was running after it shouting "Luang Prabang, Luang Prabang", with Ais on the inside hassling the driver to stop to let me back on board. The bus slowed, the doors opened and I was literally dragged on to the bus by the scruff of my neck! Once back on, we were told the next stop would be Luang Prabang in another four hours. 

It was certainly a close shave and I spent the next four hours thoroughly relieved that I'd been reunited with Ais and my belongings.

A few days later we bumped into the girls in Luang Prabang who informed us they'd actually been dumped in a village three hours from Vang Vieng with no bus connection. They had to spend the night together in one bed at a truckstop with no food or water, as there was no cash machine for them to withdraw money from. The next day they scraped together their remaining US dollars to hire a minivan to take them to their destination.

So in light of all that, Ais and I felt as though we'd had a lucky escape and were fortunate enough to end up where our ticket said it was taking us. The Vietnamese scam strikes again!

But now, over to Laos - a country that could not be more different in temperament and atmosphere, and somewhere we completely fell in love with...

Ha long, has this been going on?

Two nights, two days, sailing the calm waters off the coast of Vietnam. what could possibly go wrong? 

A visit to Vietnam's north is not complete without a boat trip to Ha long bay. Ha noi is the launching pad for numerous travel agencies who supply excursions, accommodation and activities to this natural wonder of the world and proud UNESCO world heritage site for the Vietnamese people. Who certainly know a thing or two when it comes to squeezing as much money as possible from unsuspecting tourists. Having travelled to Ha long bay previously, I knew what to expect in terms of haggling and the back and forth tussle you have to endure to get a good deal. And even after that you are never quite sure what you've signed up for. But, that's all part of the fun in Vietnam, and you just have to learn to go with the flow.

Which is happily what we did, and after a bumpy four-hour bus journey, we arrived at what would be our floating home for the next two nights. There is no denying that Ha long bay is dramatically beautiful. Nine thousand flora-covered limestone karsts claw their way out of the ocean twisting and turning through am archipelago of larger islands. The whole area looks like a series of giant spiked serpants or Vietnamese 'loch ness monsters' poking their arched backs towards the sky. There is possibly nowhere else like it on Earth, and its scenery is certainly very special.

Not our boat, but you get the idea...

Our fellow crew mates for our voyage consisted of an Australian, two Welsh, a Scot, a Brit, a Turkish couple, a Pole and a Ukrainian, three malay girls and a guy from Antigua who kept being pulled over by officials because they had never heard of his country and were suspicious he had a fake passport. At one point he even had to open google maps to prove this Caribbean island actually existed!

Soon, we were on our way, making friends and weaving through the rock formations, and trying to dodge the HUNDREDS of other boats who were sharing our idyllic excursion. Our first port of call were the 'magnificent caves', subtly named for their um, magnificence. And impressive they were, except that all the boats deposit all their passengers at the entrance at the same time. Suddenly, we were sharing this magical wonder with 5000 other people, following each other like a long snake through its subterranean home. Everyone was vying for the best view, jostling for camera space and looking out for well-known stalactites that vaguely resembled phallic appendages. I have never heard so many people ask the same question that most 7-year-olds could answer with confidence - 'so what's the difference between stalactites and stalagmites?' (come on people!), and so unfortunately the experience was marred a little. But! onwards and out of the cave and back onto the boat for an evening of fine food and revellry... Ais and I decided to decline the opportunity to take a swim at a 'hidden beach', which from the reports of our fellow shipmates, was a cordoned off area of brown water next to a building site (bummed to have missed out...). Instead, we opted to stay on board, as we desperately needed to plan the Laos leg of our journey. 

View from the 'Magnificent Cave!'

Dinner was certainly delicious, the people were grand and we were treated to a bizarre event involving a birthday cake, a happy hardcore version of the song, happy birthday - on repeat... (my ears, my ears) and free red wine that actually was vinegar. After the celebrations our crew were keen for us to get out the ship's karaoke system and 'party til dawn...' Thankfully none of the guests were like-minded, instead choosing to sit on the top deck, drinking beers and watching the fairy lights twinkle back at us from the other ships, all surrounded by karsts looming at us under the cover of darkness. Unfortunately, bad karaoke did boom at us from the other ships. Bill Murray in 'Lost in Translation' it was not, but it still gave us plenty of entertainment for the evening...

The next day we were up early and ready for our day's activities. Because we had booked two nights on the boat we were able to leave our bags in our cabin and join a smaller boat which would take us off for a day's kayaking. We sat down to breakfast opposite the Polish and Ukrainian couple who we had yet to speak to. After the pleasantries were over with, the conversation turned to food (as it invariably does) and we enquired about their favourite Vietnamese dish so far. Now, if you could please imagine the thickest European accent you can think of for the following, the conversation went a little like this:

"So, what has been your favourite dish so far?"

"Oh no, we hate ze Vietnamese food. It's disgusting. So many noodles and strange vegetables and nothing is fresh. I mean, what kind of nation eats noodles for breakfast?"

"Oh, that's a shame. We really like it. How can you say it's not fresh when everything is made on the street in front of you?"

"No, it iz horrible. In Poland, we have the finest food.

Biting tongue, biting tongue, trying to be really good and not say anything, as I sat there quietly open-mouthed in disbelief.

"Ve used to live in the UK. The food there is shit too. We had to move back to Poland because we couldn't find fresh food to eat. The food in Poland is by far ze best."

Red. Rag. To a. Bull. Now, we all know I may have a tiny problem when it comes to speaking my mind;  and I tried, really I did, but I just couldn't keep it in.

"Funny that, I always thought Polish food was just cabbage, potatoes and borscht, with a bit of dried meat on the side".

That shut her up, although she did respond with "yes, but the cabbage is the finest in the world."

Lucy 1, narrow-minded polish woman 0.

Thankfully, they were heading back to port, so we were spared any more awkward moments. We said our farewells to our friends from the previous night and headed towards our kayaking destination... Which was lovely, and a great way to while away a few hours, floating between karsts, through caves and around hidden lakes, plopping in the water every now and again to cool off. Although it was probably slightly less fun for Ais who had an uncoordinated Lucy in the front and had to do all the steering, otherwise we would never have got anywhere! At one point we got stuck in some overhanging trees, and it took us 20 minutes to break free. Whoops....

We arrived back to the boat just in time for a couple of leaps off the top deck into the water before lunch. Afterwards, the plan was to sail to a traditional floating village before spending another night lolling around on the water. Just as we arrived to the village, the boat made a sudden about turn and headed in the other direction. With increasingly confused looks on our faces our guide proceeded to tell us that a typhoon was on its way and all boats had to return to port. As we looked out the windows at what-seemed to be extremely calm waters, we weren't quite sure he was speaking the truth. But, he informed us, everything would be ok because we could stay in one of their 'luxury' hotels on Cat Ba island - the biggest land mass in the archipelago instead of having to go back to Ha long itself. There was only one problem, our luggage was still in a cabin that was now destined for the mainland. And not just our clothes. EVERYTHING, from our passports, to my camera, our phones, money, Ais's iPad etc, basically everything we had been clinging on to ever since we embarked on our journey. They are just not the sort of things you can take on a kayaking trip! Not only that, we hadn't packed our bags so our cabin was strewn with clothes, wash bags, chargers, small kittens etc. Our guide assured us that someone would go in, pack up our things and deliver them to us halfway between our current position and our destination. Now, this was fine, but if anything was left behind our chances of recovering it were pretty small. In addition, our electronics, as all electronics are, are fairly fragile and wouldn't survive being casually thrown from boat to boat. As we tried to get this across to our guide, his English suddenly went downhill and he all of a sudden couldn't understand what we were saying. We decided to risk it, but it was a tense two hours waiting for our stuff to arrive on a tiny boat. Would everything be there? Would it be intact? Of course, it was fine, but there were a few frantic minutes of checking everything once our bags arrived to ensure nothing had been broken or forgotten.

So, on to Cat Ba island we sailed, still in very millpond-esque waters and on to our not-so grand hotel. The evening was fine and we were taken to a bar where drinks were free for women (not sexist, or encouraging promiscuous behavior at all!), and where you could choose your own YouTube videos to play on a large screen. It was fun, but not the tranquility we were hoping for from a second night on the boat.

The next day we were up and headed back to the mainland where we would catch the bus back to Ha noi. As we filed into a restaurant and were told to wait, while 300 women tried to sell us postcards and hammocks that wouldn't sustain the weight of a three-year-old, we got a sneaky suspicion something was up. Turns out a typhoon did hit Hoi an, further down the coast, and was responsible for severe flooding that displaced thousands of people and a plane crash in the Laos jungle. The tour companies knew this and that, as a result, all boat trips from Ha long were suspended for another day, yet the tour companies still merrily brought people down, all the way from Ha noi, only to tell them their trip was cancelled, give them lunch and drive them all the way back again! And because the buses were full with the people they were taking back there was no way for us to get home. So, it was a very long six hours sat on the roadside waiting for the bus to come back to get us. The guides magically vanished in order to avoid getting hassled from increasingly grumpy tourists and I swear at one point, someone chased a guide down the road waving his fist in the air...

Still, make it home we did, and at least we got to spend two nights in Ha long bay instead of sitting on a bus for eight hours and seeing nothing at all. You have to look at the positives!

After a few more nights in Ha noi it was time to embark on our longest bus trip yet - 30 hours from Ha noi, via Hue and over the border into Laos and on to Luang Prabang.

Laters Vietnam! 

Ha noi - a story of two halves

Nothing prepares you for Ha noi. And I stayed here three years ago, so I knew what to expect. Still, nothing prepares you for Ha noi. After driving down into the old quarter, locating our lodgings and dumping our bags in our extremely nice room for $10 a night, we psyched ourselves up for the excitement and assault to the senses that are unique to this city:

Bikes, scooters in their thousands, pho, noodles, coffins, wooden ladders, fish, canaries, dogs chopped in half, bun cha, cha ca, rats, banh mi, silk, tuk tuks, tourists (which have increased 10-fold since I was last here), bbqs, bia hoi, morning glory, people shouting, people singing, people haggling, tofu, fairy lights, phlegm, more scooters, coffee, sewerage, rucksacks, suitcases, incense, tea, rice and buses, all seem to come at you at once, as soon as you walk out your front door. You can only let yourself be swept up in it and embrace this city's joyous chaos. 

Grab a stool, sit down and watch the world go by!

As the title of this blog suggests we stayed in Ha noi twice: pre Ha long bay and post Ha long bay. Both times we tossed aside any form of agenda and spent our days wandering the streets, dodging traffic, eating as much street food as possible and drinking vast quantities of bia hoi. Yep, for 25 cents a glass you can drink beer that's brewed fresh each day, while chomping down on piles of tofu and morning glory that will set you back $2 a pop. Amazing and ridiculously cheap. 

Food photography? Not my forte...

After several hours watching Ais try to cross the street (not her forte, and I'm the uncoordinated one!), taking in a couple temples and sauntering around the lake, it was time to suss out my favourite Vietnamese dish: cha ca. A Ha noi-ise classic, there are several restaurants that only serve this dish, such is their dedication to this cook-it-yourself specialty. Fish marinated in turmeric, ginger, sugar and soy, then fried in a shallow broth at your table. Add huge quantities of fresh dill and spring onions, then serve over thin rice noodles and accompanied with fresh garlic, chilli and a few teaspoons of fish sauce. Heaven in a bowl and one very happy Lucy. 

The next day we sussed out the national museum, a rather dreary place detailing the anthropological history of the 'great Vietnamese people' (its amazing how many things they invented!). Afterwards we felt a little decadence was in order, so we popped in to the Metropole hotel for a cheeky tom collins. Because SE Asia is so cheap, it's very easy to spoil oneself every now and again, and indulging in the odd cocktail at some grand old colonial hotel has become a bit of a treat we like to do every now and again. We looked like a couple of street urchins wandering through its very well air-conditioned corridors, gaping in wonder at the silk furnishings and having doors opened for us. It felt like the kind of place my mum would have whispered loudly 'don't touch anything', accompanied by a 'I mean it' glare, if I had been six, but I'm not, so I went around stroking chaise lounges with gay abandon. As we lounged by the pool sipping our drinks, Ais pointed out that for the price of our cocktails we could have bought 43 bia hois, each, which dampened the experience slightly and made us remember why we don't frequent 5 star hotels too often. Still, it was nice to play grown-ups for the afternoon before slumming it back in the old town.

That night it was early to bed and early to rise the next day, as we were heading for a boat cruise on Ha long bay.

Which was definitely an experience (soon to be posted in a separate blog). 

But back to Ha noi - part deux. Having missed the worst of the typhoon that may or may not have affected our boat trip, our second experience of Ha noi was certainly more cold and wet than the first. We also swapped our hotel for a hostel (at this stage of the game saving even a couple of dollars is worth it), but in hindsight was probably a mistake, as it was yet another 'party hostel', misrepresented in the Lonely Planet. The first warning bell went off when we were perusing the activities organized by the hostel and came across the 'snake charmer experience', which involved being driven to the edge of town, watching a man split open a very live and writhing snake, watch him pull out its 'still beating heart', which you then eat, before finally downing a shot of snake bile from the inner depths of its digestive system. A fun night out for all the family and involving three of my favourite past-times: animal cruelty, snake hearts and vomit shots. What's not to love? And at $12 a pop a total bargain! 

Our second alarm bell rung later that evening when a young lad came round to each dorm to explain the theme for that nights party. Now, imagine the Aussiest, most bogan accent you can think of. The following conversation went something like this...

"Laydees, what are you doing sitting in your room?"

"Ah, just chilling."

"Well, I'm here to tell you that tonight we're going to have a kick-arse storm party in the street. We're then gonna hit the streets of Ha noi and rip this town a new one!"

"Ok, thanks for letting us know. Why is it called a storm party?"

"Because there's going to be a storm tonight, d'uh."

"Ah, makes sense. Silly me. We'll be sure to avoid, I mean join you later if we see you."

"Ripper!"

No matter how far away from Australia you go, the bogans will find you and draw you away from any cultural experience you might be having. Hasten to say, we did not join in the 'storm' festivities, especially as the wonderful Ben and Alex were in town, and who had just got engaged (congratulations boys!), so our own celebrations were in order. Plus we hadn't seen them since our days in Colombia, so there was plenty of catching up to do. 

Another unexpected catch-up came the next day when we bumped in to the rather wonderful Martin, who was working at the hostel we stayed in Puerto Escondido, right at the start of our adventure. Five months later and walking down the road in Ha noi, it was not a face we expected to see again, and shows just how small this planet really is. Of course beers and merriment ensued, which resulted in us having a Ha noi lock-in and being sneaked out the bar at 2am to avoid the curfew police! 

In true Lucy and Ais form we spent our last day terribly hungover, waiting for a bus that would take us over the border to Laos and on to Luang Prabang. A trip that would take 30 hours and truly test our patience and our ability to sit in one position for what seemed like an eternity. On top of that, we are in

Vietnam, so who knows where we will really end up!

  

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster...

I know, I know, I am completely original. No one else would have ever thought to reference this song title on a blog post when spending one night in Bangkok. Truth be told we didn't even spend one night here, we spent two; the world did certainly not become my oyster, and I still don't know the rest of the lyrics to this Chess classic. Hell, I don't even know what chess is about. The musical that is, not the game. I used to play chess as a child, but my dad always beat me (not with a stick or anything, just at chess), and I'm a sore loser, so I gave it up and started to play the French horn instead, which looked huge on a 10 year old and made the most dreadful pharp sound, so I settled for the piano, much to the relief of my parents. Then one day..... 

Sorry, Bangkok. I have never been to Bangkok before. What an incredible, chaotic, beautiful, if not slightly crazy place. And so big. I think you could spend six months here and never see all its pavements. We stayed where all like-minded backpackers bed down in Bangkok (although I'm not sure why): just off the good ol' koh San road. Which really is as horrible as had been described to me. Yes, you can buy rip-off anything at dirt cheap prices, and yes you can buy deep-fried skewered scorpions for your mates and take hilarious photos of them trying to eat said scorpion; you can dance on the tables until 5 am in the morning and you can get many crap massages. But do you really want to when surrounded by the types of tourists who think this is the 'real Asia' and whose highlight is to see ping pongs projectiled from shaven female oriphoses into their ever-warming Changs? Just say no kids! I have never felt so ashamed to be British and Australian in such a short space of time. Just call me old...

Thanks guys...!

So, unsurprisingly we did not linger, but instead took advantage of the numerous street-food stalls that lined the pretty streets either side of koh San. Unbeknownst (such a cool word, it should be used more often) to me it was vegetarian food month in Bangkok with numerous stalls stringing up red and yellow flags to denote their 'meat-free status'. Suddenly I was a kid in a very large candy store. So many options opened up, I didn't have to spend hours looking at each cart weighing up if the contents of their dishes contained meat, fish or tofu; there were no tentative bites into sandwiches wondering if it had been slathered in pâté. It was basically awesome! Mushrooms on sticks basted in butter, cooked over hot coals and then smothered in the fieriest green curry sauce I have possibly ever eaten (Simon, you would love it!), pad thais, tom yums, and of course, the classic roti pancake with chocolate and banana. Such was my enthusiasm for seeking out these stalls that we spent most of the second day wandering around Chinatown trying weird and wonderful mock meat creations that resembled anything from meatballs to crispy duck, and not an animal in sight. Now, I'm not usually a fan of faux meat, and I definitely didn't like everything that went in my mouth, but it was incredible to be able to sample absolutely everything. How I would cope if I was a carnivore, I do not know. 

Money exchanged for delicious pancake no. 1. Shame about miss grumpy in the background; she ruined my photo!

So good!

Delicious pancake no. 2 (I can see a pattern emerging here, and it's not one that's favourable for my waistline....)

Our only other daytime excursion was to see the reclining Buddha and annoyingly miss out on the emerald Buddha because the tuk tuk drivers told us it was closed, when of course it wasn't. Welcome back to Asia! I forget how savvy you have to be and remember to always suss things out for yourself when it involves someone trying to make money out of you. At least the scam comes with a smile...

He's a big Buddha.

After filling our tummies for the umpteenth time it was early to bed for a 3.30 am taxi to the airport and our flight to Hanoi. Bangkok, we will be back!

P.S, I have no access to a desktop, so picture quality will be rubbish, apologies!

A quick g'day to the folks in the motherland

While Ais carried on her merry way to Ireland to attend a wedding in a stately home, chow down on multiple Irish sausages and seek out her favourite suntan lotion, I raced up and down the country saying hello to friends and family alike. Blessed with unusually mild weather I wiled away the days with family members in Lincoln before heading back to Horsham for a couple of nights at home with the rents. 



Me and me Nana. Not looking too bad for an 88-year-old grand dame. Sadly, I look as though I've been tangoed.

It was then on to London to quickly soak up some British culture and see as many people as possible in my few remaining days. To:

Nick

Jane

Mary

Jenny

Nicola

Neil

Dave

Alicia

Thank you for the good times and making me feel like I've never left. The food was delicious, the wine certainly flowed and your company was delectable, as always. Until next time...

Some friendships will never change, or grow up!

I was also dead chuffed to see several of my HG books that I sent to print before I left, on bookshelves in Waterstones with Horsham, of all places, boasting the largest volume of HG's list. I was particularly proud to see The Food of Vietnam standing out and A la Mere seems to be getting a great reaction, and was spotted in the front window of several bookshops. As much as I don't want this holiday to end, it made me excited to get back in the cookbook editorial saddle when I land back in Melbs. Speaking of which, we will see our antipodean crew in just over one month. Not long to go now!

A quick over-the-border trip to Italy...

In order to get to England/Ireland as quickly and predominantly cheaply as possible we have taken an overnight bus from Split to Trieste in Italy. One day, one country. And yes, just a bit stupid.

Thankfully we have both visited this ancient land before, and so the pull to linger was not as strong, as say our unexpected stop in the Bahamas. Trieste is also not on the Italian tourist map - a small working city that serves as a gateway to the Adriatic and not much else. Still, where there's an Italian city there is Italian food and we spent our six hours here doing what any like-minded foodies would do: drink copious amounts of espresso and eat pizza. It's so easy to forget how pizza should be served until you visit Italy. Thin as a pancake, crisp round the edges and with a handful of toppings, slathered in buffalo mozzarella. Perfection made easy, and that is all I have to say. Grazi! 

Split-ends

Yep, pun aside, Split is the last destination on our tour of Croatia. Smaller and less touristy than Dubrovnik, Split boasts a Roman retirement palace at the centre of its old town and a sprawling modern promenade lined with over-priced restaurants and a smell of sulphur that would surely put anyone off their mussels and chips.

Le harbour

Thankfully we were staying in the old town, hidden away in a seemingly never-ending maze of streets that are hundreds of years' old and lined with pavements smooth as butter. Split is a lovely town to spend a few days and do little other than roam around at a relaxed pace and get lost in its alleyways and hideaway bars. And this is precisely what we did. Drink cocktails in an open-air 14th century atrium complete with creeping ivy and awesome French trip-hop? Done. Eat freshly caught fish alongside a carafe of wine? Done. Drink one-too-many happy-hour beers at the local backpacker bar while making new friends? Done. 

Some buildings...

But, our absolute highlight happened while walking back to our hostel on our first night. As we turned a corner and entered the heart of the Roman ruins that also double up as the town square, we were greeted with a spectacular sight. Ambient lights shone down onto the plaza, where people lined its edges sipping wine and beer. A small band rolled out smoochy hits from years gone by, and in the centre couples danced away, sweeping each other through this 2000-year-old piece of architecture. It was magical to watch and we spent two hours watching the lovers play and the local Croatian men serenade unsuspecting female tourists onto the dance arena. Ais succumbed; I did not, remembering my heady days failing (or should that be flailing) to dance salsa in Colombia. Take away the music and the electric lighting and you really could be in Diocletian's palace all those years ago, where the wine and woman would have flowed just as easily. It's often hard to completely immerse yourself in history, to be in a time long since forgotten, but visit Split at night and that's exactly what you get; just don't forget to being your dancing shoes.

Diocletian's retirement home. Not too shabby.

And so ends our visit to Croatia: a country that has surprised us both and made us keen to explore more of Eastern Europe. But, sadly there is no time for that. We have an overnight bus to Trieste to catch followed by a flight to London. It's time to get spoiled! 

Islands in the sun - Korchula to Hvar



Sail away, sail away, sail away...



The best way to see Croatia is undoubtedly by boat. Croatia's coastline is peppered with hundreds of islands, all easily accessible and interconnected by ferries, catamarans and yachts, making it super-easy to get off the beaten track and find your own slice of beach paradise. You also have to be careful to not inadvertently stumble into nudist territory, which seems to be relatively common and possibly a little far-reaching for my liking. Grannies, fat Germans, Russians, Croats, all lounging about in their naked glory, letting it all hang out for passers by to gape at. No one needs a hairy ball-sack while munching down on their morning cocopops. As we all know, I'm a bit of a prude and some scenes were just a little too much for my innocent British sensibilities. I'm not quite sure what the Eastern European fascination is with lying out sans clothes in the sun, cos its not like they've got much to show off...

Our first stop was the island of Korchula, four hours from Dubrovnik and accessed via a large ferry that reminded me of cross-channel holidays to France and school trips where the aim of the game was to hide from your teachers and kiss as many boys as possible. No such luck on this excursion...

Korchula is a small island where the main town looks like a mini Dubrovnik - ancient winding streets occupy a small outcrop of land culminating in a cathedral at its apex.



Looking towards the cathedral


It also has a spectacular array of fruit trees, bushes and vines that gives each resident their own personal fruit bowl without ever having to leave the comfort of their own gardens, which is just as well as the choice of fruit and vegetables in Croatian supermarkets is shockingly bad. But then why do you need to buy fresh produce when you can grow it? Pomegranates, oranges, nectarines, olives, peaches, grapes, kiwi fruit (who knew they grew on hanging vines? I realise probably me, given my job), apples, lemons, limes and endless summer berries, just all there for the taking. And scrump we did, until we remembered we didn't have the the wherewithal to get into a pomegranate...   

We stayed at an awesome hostel at the end of a fruit-filled street, just out of town (the best ones are always a little further away, it seems) and quickly made friends with Brits, Aussies, Scandys and Kiwis, resulting in a couple of classic card games and even messier heads the next day. To deal with our pounding brains Ais had the bright idea to go cliff jumping at a recommended spot round the coast. Was she brave, was she stupid? Possibly both, yet I was going to be neither and instead watched her descend 8 metres into the water from the comfort of my own rock where I could nurse my head in relative safety. Rid Ais of her hangover, it undoubtedly did, and my lasting memory of Korchula will be of her disappearing under the waves only to bob up a few feet away. 

Our only negative experience of Korchula was a cheap boat tour that sold itself as a trip round the small islands filled with snorkeling and swimming. The price tag should have given us a clue - 12 euro for a day's excursion? Surely not. Yep, that would be a no. Unless you consider being taken out on a small boat, dumped on an island with no amenities (not even water) and left there for six hours with nobody but several naked women for company. And no, this didn't include Ais and I. Actually, this probably sounds like heaven to any straight guys and gay girls reading this, but we are neither and thus spent the day rather thirsty and hungry perched on a pebble beach. Not a highlight.

The next day we were on the silly o'clock 6 am ferry to Hvar - Croatia's playground for the rich and famous; where yachts the size of football fields compete with each other for the world's most exuberant and over-the-top boat prize and restaurant prices match the overt wealth of the visitors who dock their sun seekers along the pretty harbour. 

One advantage of getting up at the arse-crack of dawn is that you arrive at your new destination in time for breakfast. We eventually found the cafe that was our pickup point to our hostel and discover that residents and tourists alike are milling around at the bar. Drinking. Beer. At 8 am. Croatia, where alcoholism could easily become a national sport. Now, I like my beer, but 8 am is even too early for me, so I settled for an Americano and a slightly judgemental look on my face. Drinking in the morning? At least make mine a Bloody Mary.

Our hostel was again, slightly out of town and a pleasant walk along the harbour to the old town. Run by two Aussies and an American we were greeted with free pancakes and coffee for breakfast (a rare treat at a hostel), especially when one of the owners has a second life as a chef, which involves cooking on private yachts sailing the Caribbean for half the year. (Lucky bastard.)

There is not much to do in Hvar, except lie on one of its numerous, if slightly uncomfortable beaches and pick which boat you would have if money were no object. Which then of course moves on to discuss what name you would pick, how many berths it would have, where it would be moored etc, you know, all the important questions. I have loved boats for a long time (probably encouraged by living on a canal boat for two years; although I do have a tendency to look back on things through rise-tinted glasses...), and one day would love to learn how to sail. Although, if living in Melbourne hasn't inspired me yet, I'm not sure there's much chance of this land lubber lifting anchor and sailing off into the distance. Mind you, if it was in the Caribbean...

yacht of choice

After killing our budget on a night on the town, followed by a BBQ put on by our hostel, and an unfortunate incident involving a pug and a Geordie, which can not be repeated here, we spent our last two days exploring Hvar's surrounding islands and the local town. 

On our last morning I was treated to the spectacle of three parachuters navigating their way down into Hvar's tiny town square. For what purpose, I am not entirely sure, but it was certainly an impressive sight. 

Coming in to land

After a little more wallet bashing it was time to pack our things and leave - a hop, skip and a quick catamaran over to Split: a return to the mainland and our last destination in Croatia before some well-deserved time at home with our friends and families.