Trekking in the Tonkinese Alps (25 -26 March 2013)

After the craziness of Hanoi, two days trekking in the Tonkinese Alps, through indigenous, ethnic minority villages and paddy fields clinging to impossibly steep hills was our reward for the schlep to north west Vietnam, within a 3km stones throw of the Chinese border.



Our adventure started the night before at Ga Ha Noi, or Hanoi railway station to those of us unfamiliar with the Vietnamese tonal system. We were escorted rather frantically to our berths, on the unfortunately named Ratraco carriage, on the 21.10 express train to Lao Cai. 350 km in ten hours never passed so slowly, think we must have missed the "express" bit... We lurched through the night, Anthony got a great nights sleep, Gill and David tried to sleep amidst the cacophony of locals selling food and drink and the emergency stops of which the train seemed particularly fond. Having said that, it took a while for us to look out under the window blind at dawn and realise that this wasn't just another stop, we were here!
Our destination for the next two days was to be Topas ecolodge in Tan Kim, a two hour drive from the railway station. The usual dilapidated wooden houses, kids, dogs, mopeds, pot holes and road diggers lined our route as we climbed ever upwards into the dusty hills. The road became increasingly rough as we made our way along the precipitous road to the lodge. The lodge is only 18kms out of Sapa in distance, but years away in time... Life around us here looks like it it hasn't changed in hundreds of years.



We were greeted by screeching Red Dao ladies, in their red embroidered hats, all desperate to sell their wares. After a sleepless night and a rough road journey, the last thing on our mind was a piece of grubby sewing, however ethnic!
Topas ecolodge has some seriously poor Tripadvisor reviews and we were really pleasantly surprised by how charming and cool it is. A number of thatched cottages perched atop a mountain, high the valley, reminiscent of a Tuscan hill village. The valley was a complex pattern of beautiful rice terraces. We will be happy here. The views of towering mountains, chain upon chain of paddy fields, distant villages with smoke rising from their hearths completed this bucolic scene. We were really lucky to be able to see all this so clearly, often up here it's cold and misty.



Our first foray, accompanied by the lodge chef, Kuhn, was a three hour round trip hike to some local villages and school. The first half hour was accompanied by the determined Red Dao ladies, but our sticking power was greater than theirs, as they ran out of enthusiasm a few miles in and we still hadn't been persuaded to part with any Dongs! One or two of them had a mobile glued to their ears! Initially following the mid level rough road, we soon turned off and descended on soil paths through small farms and paddy fields. Ducks, pigs, water buffalo, children and people working in the small fields all showed an interest as we passed. We crossed the river on a seriously dodgy looking suspension bridge and then a climb back up the other side to Ban Moi village, school and government house. Kids were practising for some festival and we enjoyed a few minutes in the shade watching them parade flags and do a spot of marching. Cigarette toting teachers watched over this motley group.



We were invited into a local woman's home, it would be impolite to comment on the house, but it was a lovely gesture but not somewhere you'd want to stay for dinner. She was dressed in her traditional clothes and had a tiny baby similarly attired strapped to her back. We surprised ourselves refusing the offer of rice wine...
Child care here general appears a little lacksadasical for Western tastes. The kids, including the very young, run around without an adult in sight, carrying their big knives and walking very close to the edge of the steep drop into the valley. Younger kids are in charge of the very young, take a look at this picture where the older kids were loading this tiny child onto a white sack and letting it slide down the dusty hill as if on a toboggan. The tiny child appeared puzzled, the older kids thought it a hoot!



But the heat was building as we walked back and so a few G and T's were very welcome as we slumped into some rather comfy armchairs overlooking the valley. A perfect day.
Day two was a much more strenuous outing, about 15km over rough terrain from the mountain top to the main valley floor to Ban Ho village. We were joined by a great South African couple, Mandy and Stefan, so it was the five of us who faced the onslaught of the Red Dao ladies this morning. David made a new friend...



Kuhn was our guide again, and we were taken to his Tay village for lunch. It was a long, long steep descent through farms and paddy fields. The was sun baking the hard clay soil as well as us... Some of the descents were almost vertical so some rather undignified sliding on one's bum was called for!
Ban Ho village is a charming village on the valley floor, a series of simple wooden houses, open living downstairs and enclosed bedrooms. It was with some bemusement that we heard that the dogs around the village were all for food. David asked what happens if someone gets attached to a dog and doesn't want to eat it. the answer was simple, then we sell it to someone else and they eat it!' Fair play. But what we have liked is that yes, there are a few Westerner up here, but life carries on around us. Unlike some places, the people are not dressed in national costume for our benefit, this is their daily dress.



David and Gill were not looking forward to lunch, feigning tummy ache from mid morning in case they had to refuse! We lunched at a lovely little house, with a few pigs, cats and dogs, veg growing the garden, The beef noodles and beers were lovely. The last stretch was to some cooling waterfalls just outside the village. Our feet needed a bathe in the cool waters.


An added benefit here is that unlike on the Tripadvisor reviews the only wildlife we saw was friendly, Ant now wants a goat to take home.



What a lovely place this is, tucked away, worlds away from anywhere, a perfect two days.


Sent from my iPad


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Hanoi - rats from beginning to end... (21 - 24 March 2013)

At last, we three travelling musketeers are very happily reunited at Hanoi airport and we pile into a taxi to take us to the Old Quarter. It was getting late but we still needed a beer to catch up with all the gossip. As we stood outside the hotel, the streets were getting a bit quieter (but in Hanoi, that's all relative...) and it was then we saw our first parade of four rather large rats marching purposefully down the alley beside the hotel. We hurried away to the nearest bar to escape and settled down for a drink, each of us perched on a tiny plastic twelve inch cube, happily shouting at each other to be heard above the noise of the music and the street. But then the noise got louder as the police van sirens and whistles got nearer. Policemen, many with a fag on and big peaked caps were quite clear in their instructions that we clear the streets. We felt it right that we obey...
We awake the next morning to Hanoi in full flow. The old quarter is exactly that, an old maze of narrow streets and alleys lined with tiny shops and food stalls selling all kinds of things, flowing out onto the road making it narrower still. And along these narrow lanes are a sea of mororbikes laden with all sorts of cargo and various numbers of people (so far four on a bike is our maximum) going about their daily business. Probably only four metres of potholed tamac separated us from the other side, but it was still a challenge. Women trying to sell us fans, lighters, doughnuts, hats and t shirts also form part of the melee of obstructions to our crossing, as well as women in their conical hats with their baskets joined by a piece of wood over their shoulders.



It was all too much so we move to the haven of Highland's Coffee, high above the traffic with a view of Hanoi's answer to Piccadilly Circus, the nearest to a Starbuck's you can find here to consult the LP Bible, work out the map and decide on our next move, well that at least for Ant and Gill. In a mistaken moment, we had introduced David to Candy Crush and like crack cocaine, he was instantly hooked. So as David played away to catch up with us both, we worked out a walk around town, mainly focused on eating, shopping, drinking and ice cream. Having lunch in the courtyard of a lovely old building was great until we spotted a rather large rat ambling along... It was a very successful day, and we also managed to fit in a few of the sights, the Hoa Kiem Lake, the "Hanoi Hilton" (a prison...) and paid our Catholic respects at the Cathedral. The evening saw an early bia hoi on the streets, again perched on our little plastic chairs watching assorted locals, tourists and soapdodgers going by.


The next day was set aside for the big "set piece", a visit to see Uncle Ho in his mausoleum. After spending some time in the slowly snaking queue, watching various parades of small children and teachers who had also come to pay their respects, we finally get to see the great man again. The good news is that he is still looking peaceful, although to our eyes slightly more botoxed than before, he must have overdone the spa treatments on his annual visit back to Moscow for his refurb... We followed this with a cultural visit to the Hanoi Art Gallery, surprisingly good, but again, perhaps influenced by the rather good wine bar on site...






For dinner, we return to Quan An Ngon an amazing safe "street food" place and in the taxi back, the Hanoi traffic takes on an even more surreal feel. As it's Saturday, it's manic anyway and then hundreds of inline skaters appear followed closely by Hanoi youth doing "wheelies" in and out of the traffic on their motorbikes. The only way to cope with the stress was yet another bia hoi on a small plastic chair...



On day three we plan yet another day of eating, shopping and drinking before we get the evening overnight train up to Sapa, so have an enjoyable day including going to "Fanny's" - I know, some names don't translate easily - but rather good ice cream despite the name. A return visit is planned.


But we do also make the effort to go to the Military Museum - thinking back, the fact that they have a branch of Highland's Coffee there may have influenced our decision. A fab lunch at Au Lac, another old French colonial building and Ant is still getting his regular fix of pho (pronounced "fer"), David hasn't quite taken to it and has now announced he has a "ferbia"...Ant and I have revisited a few sights here we saw last time, hence David deciding we were flashbacking, not flashpacking... But we have all discovered parts of Hanoi we didn't even know existed last time....
We are coming back to Hanoi but for now we go to the station for the train. Given our Hanoi rat experience, it's strange we are still surprised to see the name of the train company we are travelling with - Ratraco Express....
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Location:QL 4E,,Vietnam

Veggin' in Vietnam, Saigon to Mui Ne (12 - 20 March, 2013)

This blog is now an official duo one, Ant is now online too...
We leave behind the Starcity Hotel in Saigon, along with the rather large rat mooching about in the outside bar area, for the delights of the beach at Mui Ne. Gill had done enough buses for a while so we take the chauffered limo the four and a half hours to Mui Ne, where we will chill,for a week awaiting the arrival of David, the much missed member of our happy travelling band.



Our biggest problem in writing this blog is what do you write about when you have done nothing for eight days... This week has been a testament to the power of unrelenting relaxation. Day after day of blue sky, temperatures in the 30's, cooling breezes from the South China Sea, the whisper of palm trees, the rustle of bouganvillea, the empty pool (of people, not water that is... as well of course as the amazing food here, fully partaking of breakfast, lunch and dinner. Ant is always partial to a pho in Vietnam, so that been his breakfast staple, he did always like to live like a local...



Mui Ne is in a beautiful setting on a long sweeping bay with pale sand, when the breeze did blow the sky filled itself with hundreds of kitesurfer's looking like an enormous flock of muticoloured birds. In all truth, tourists far outnumber the locals and Russians outnumber everybody, but our little boutique hotel, the Mia Resort, has proved to be a perfect home from home, we've been cosseted, looked after, served with fruit and cold towels round the pool, all in all an atmosphere of quiet refinement, so us...






We have made a bit of an effort to see something of the area - a walk down the beach, a local bus to the fishing village. And another public bus trip into PhanThiet, the local town with its markets heaving with freshly caught fish, crabs, skinned frogs and huge squid. Of course, there was also the usual Ho Chi Minh museum and school where he taught for a while. For further information, please read my blog the first time Gill was here, nothing's changed... http://gill35.blogspot.com/search?q=Mui+ne



We are writing this during our customary happy hour in the early evening overlooking the beach, with the inky sea edged with the lights of the squid boats along the horizon like a sparkly necklace. We have also got rather too used to various types and colours of Martini's as the week has progressed.
Two days ago this peace and serenity ended with a crush - a Candy Crush..
Neither of us are computer gamesters but we happened to innocently talk about how people used their iPad on holiday. The detail of our journey from this discussion to finding ourselves downloading Candy Crush is lost in the midst of beer and bacardi... But too late, we were hooked...
We have been in 48 hour candy bubble talking about candy bombs, disappearing cherries and a pairs of nuts and are now hoping that Hanoi has a support group. The number of times we had to ask each other, or Google it yet again, "what exactly does a wrapped candy do....?" was, given both our supposed educations, faintly pathetic... But Gill did draw the line at Ant just about to buy a set of three "charms" for about £50 to help his score.... The most frustrating part of the last two days has been the enforced time outs of 30 minutes when we failed to complete a game for the fifth time of trying....
Anyway, must go, Candy Crush is calling...



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Location:Nguyễn Đình Chiểu,Phan Thiết,Vietnam

A bus back to flashpacking, Chau Doc to Saigon (12 March 2013)

Today I take the long bus ride from Chau Doc to finally meet up with Ant in Saigon. So excited. And I much prefer the real Ant to the coffee kind I was getting used to...
The Hai Chau hotel in Chau Doc provided the most amazing service. The bus company, Phuong Trang, provide a free pickup from your hotel and as I waited in the street amidst in the heat and cacophony of the working day, the hotel brought out a refreshing cup of Vietnamese tea for me. I then saw the guy on the desk pop to the shop next door and come back bearing a box of Vietnamese coffee which he presented to me as a gift to take home. Perhaps he'd read the blog about "ant coffee" and thought he could change my mind... a lovely gesture. Then, as soon as I waved goodbye and got into the minibus to go to the bus station, the guy from the hotel, with somewhat indecent haste I thought, leapt on his moped and sped away. I thought he was glad to see the back of me! So I was amazed to see him waiting for me at the dusty bus station organizing my ticket as he told me "they don't speak English here, so I came to help". He got the ticket, showed me to the bus, made sure my luggage was on board and told me about the rest stops. Bearing in mind they phoned and booked the ticket for me, and I paid the normal rate so they didn't get any commission, this really was unbelievable service. And given for a big sparkly clean room, balcony, good modern bathroom, two dinners, two breakfasts, laundry and a bottle of wine, I paid less than £25 a night all in, it was such a bargain, even with the pound in freefall as it is. Highly recommended. It's a family run place and the only added cost is the young son of the family sits with you in the neon lit restaurant as you eat to practise his English. A very small price to pay.



I wasn't expecting much of the bus to be honest, £4 for a hotel pickup and a journey of 160 miles in 6 - 7 hours. But the buses here have really got their act together. It was comfy and clean and everyone had their own seat, makes a change... And you get a bottle of water and a cold wipe. I was also expecting horrors at the loo and lunch stop, but again I was really surprised. The stop was in a huge dark warehouse place with foodstalls and tables and the loos could give any UK motorway service area a run for their money. There were two other Westerners on my bus and at the lunch stop with over 20 buses disgorging their passengers, we were still the only ones in the village. Only problem with that is they are not used to explaining the intricacies of how long and where to get back on the bus in anything other than Vietnamese but universal sign language and pointing to the hands on my watch worked well as usual.


And the time (almost...) sped by. The entertainment these days is a flat screen at the front and gone are the Kung Fu subtitled films. We were serenaded all the way by I think someone who was Vietnam's answer to Leona Lewis... It was like a football match, a journey of two halves. The first half was slow as we made our way on small roads across lots of rickety bridges over the brown, muddy slow moving delta waters, through small towns, past ripening rice paddies and over one wide bit on a ferry. Then suddenly we seemed to leave agricultural Vietnam behind and joined a motorway, stopping every so often at the toll booths, and speeded up. Soon, the motorbike numbers steadily increased as we approached Saigon and the bus station. The usual melee of taxi drivers descended on us as we collected our bags. Made me think of ants again...There are so many stories of taxi scams both here and in Hanoi that I took the guidebook's advice, ignored the touts, put on my best memsahib face and found a Mai Linh metered cab. We wove our way through the millions of motorbikes in the rush hour. I've no idea how it all works, there seem to be no rules, but it's almost like a ballet as the traffic just seems to flow around each other, quite amazing to behold.



So now, as I sit in the Saigoncity Hotel awaiting Ant and sipping my tiny £5 glass of why why, I have surely moved back into flashpacking mode, bring it on!



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Location:Nguyễn Văn Trỗi,,Vietnam

Dongs and doggies in Chau Doc... (10 -11 March 2013)

Chau Doc is a smallish town and so noisy in the day, but by 8pm, the shops are shuttered, the little foodstalls disappear, the small cafes with tiny plastic seats are gone, the tempting smells of a pho or a bbq duck fade away and it becomes a ghost town. The mopeds are driven into the small hotel reception for overnight safety and the night watchman's bed roll and pillows are laid out. Looks like compulsory early nights are in order here. It's obviously not a place tourists linger, there are no signs of any Western type bars or backpacker places. Most people pass through staying just a night or two as it's a bit of a junction for Saigon, Phnom Penh, southern Cambodia and the rest of the delta.
No alarm clocks are needed here either, the streets come alive and the decibel level increases just after dawn. Good practice for Hanoi. They have odd little cyclo's here, sort of flat platform trays high up on two wheels pulled by a push bike. They are not just for tourists, they are also used by all the local people and often piled high with bags, boxes and all sorts of deliveries. Every so often a tour group of twenty or so Westerners snake through town, poshies from the tour groups at the Victoria...). You can almost hear the sigh of resignation as the poor sod who draws the short straw gets the heftiest person, twice the size of the guy powering the bike. No wonder they are all so thin and wiry. The Vietnamese look comfortable and gracious as they are being pulled along with their legs neatly tucked in. The Westerners on the other hand look very uncomfortable and not too sure how to get in any way comfortable!



I decide this morning to get my head around the money, mistaking a 50,000 dong note with a remarkably similar 500,000 dong note would be an expensive mistake. My purse is a bit of a mess with baht change, US dollars, Cambodian riels and now millions of dong. But the dong notes are like Aussie money, slightly plastic, and don't disintegrate in water, so at least look a bit cleaner than the filthy riels. Sorting this money, I realise that I have been deprived of retail therapy for a while so set out to see Chau Doc market. It's sort of "same same" as most others but is brighter and cleaner. Set out in areas, not many women's fashions but lots and lots of material shops. The men's section is all ready to wear, but it looks like most women sew their own. But my eye is caught by the designer labels and I have difficulty choosing whether to go Chanel or Louis. In the end I go for both. So now, 60p later,
I have two new designer face masks, no, not to wear as I ride on a moto, that love has still not materialised, but to use as a smell barrier in some of the less salubrious loo facilities in this part of the world! The old one I bought in Hoi An market years ago can be retired and replaced with this new designer gear.



I try out my language skills again but my "ga mon" (thankyou) only elicits gales of laughter from the market trader and his pals. He tries to teach me and to my ears it sounds the same, but obviously not to theirs... Something to do with the tones. But I tried and got some smiles in return. God knows what I was actually saying.
After my ant coffee in Cambodia I am struggling to disassociate the local coffee taste from ants so decide a latte at the Victoria might break that barrier. Their version of a latte and Starbuck's are rather different and I think I'm on frothed tinned condensed milk on top of local coffee. Roll on Hanoi for a Highland's! As I sit on the deck overlooking the river one of the posh river cruisers, the Lan Diep, is moored up and the passengers are finishing their posh buffet lunch before they pop off to explore the delights of Chau Doc. It looks a very nice boat, quite big but I want to tell them to get off and hire their own little rice boat for a few days instead, the one Ant and I did was magical.
The language here continues to puzzle. I had noticed there were many fewer dogs about than anywhere else in Asia. Trying to avoid the obvious connection I was taken aback to see "chien" on many menu's and street stalls. Given the historical French connection here, any mention of chien made me fear the worst. But thanks to Google Translate I discover I need not be concerned. The translation is "fried" and no connection to the Dyl...


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You can't avoid a moto in SE Asia... (10 March 2013)

The day didn't start off well - I do like my coffee in the morning and thought I had enjoyed it until I got to the last drops. There, at the bottom of the cup, was the layer of dead ants... I didn't ask for a refill and given I was on a variety of minibuses all day going from Kep in Cambodia, across the border into Vietnam and then on to Chau Doc, I tried not to think about it too much! Not a good experience... Avoid the Long Villa Inn...
Miss Prawn Cocktail 1954, aka Kampot Ha Tien Travel and Tours had taken my $12 promising a seamless trip across the border. To be honest, I didn't have much confidence in her, given the terrible online reviews. Due to be collected at between 11 and 11.30, when no one turned up I was a little concerned. But a really nice guy from Phnom Penh also just checking out obviously noticed my concern and asked who was to collect me. He used his mobile to call Miss PC 1954 and I was assured her minibus was on the way. The kindness of strangers is always so unexpected, I resolve to do more of that myself. It finally arrived at 11.45 so time was tight to catch the 1pm bus at Ha Tien. But no problem, this is SE Asia, and the connecting bus didn't now go till 2pm, so all was fine. It was a pretty rough dust road to the border, but the crossing was so easy. Apparently Miss PC 1954 pays a bit of a backhander to the border officials and all works really well. Give the driver your passie, walk a few yards, pay your $1 "health check" and through you go. No silly form filling, queueing or customs, just get on the Vietnamese minibus to which your bag has been magically transferred. Everyone else on the bus was going to Phu Quoc and the connection with the ferry was a bit tight, so along with the usual continual horn blowing we took a few two wheeled corners into Ha Tien, only 8kms. But hooray, I had avoided the dreaded motorbike from the border into Ha Tien.
I had an hour or so to wait in Ha Tien. It's amazing, you really "feel" the difference between the two countries. In Cambodia everyone seems to be lazing around, no industry or work seems to be happening. Women appear to be the only ones actually moving whilst many of the men sit round playing cards. In Ha Tien, only a small town, it felt bustling. There were little shops selling flatscreen tv's, washing machines and other electrical items. A bent old lady with baguette filled bags on a pole across her shoulders shouting out her wares. I popped into the supermarket and rather than the dusty offerings of Cambodia, this had shelves full of consumer items. And cheap, for a packet of biscuits, a packet of crisp things and a small water, I paid 50p. The changeover place there is a Western Bar, the Oasis, and a beer was 33p, sure it will be a lot more when we hit the tourist trap of Mui Ne. Compared to Koh Kong, the equivalent small town on the Thai Cambodia border, this is a different world.






But soon a taxi arrives to take me to the next mini bus to go to Chau Doc. Dropped off at a garage, I transfer for my scheduled two hour (for that read actually three hour, this is SE Asia...) trip to Chau Doc. A fairly old minibus and instead of the noise of a Kung Fu film you get on the bigger buses, this one was fitted with an extremely loud proximity sensor that sounded every time the minibus came near any other traffic, and appeared to be situated just behind my left ear. Well, as I have said before, this is SE Asia and as well as never being far from an orchid, you are never very far from another vehicle...



A peaceful journey it was not. We stop every so often to pick up or drop off locals doing the same journey. No chickens, but babies, generators and large parcels... My Vietnamese language lessons have come on, I learned two words whilst in Ha Tien. I practice my "hello" on a fellow passenger with a baby, but all I can assume is that I was speaking with a different accent to her, whilst she smiled, she looked blankly - oh well, back to language 101. I think I may have been doing my impression of the British guy speaking French in "Allo, Allo" again... I just hope I wasn't being offensive... But by sign language, she showed that she was interested in looking at my camera and wanted me to take their picture.


The journey across the delta was fascinating with the rice paddies in their various stages of development. Some burnt off, some a bit brown, but others that amazing emerald green before the rice ripens. The delta is the "rice basket" of the country and you can see why as almost everyone seemed to be involved in its production. Along each side of the narrow road, rice is laid out to dry on black plastic sheets, looking a bit like Boris Bike lanes. Not that sensible as the road is quite narrow as it is... but there again everyone seems to drive along the middle anyway only swerving at the last minute, horns blazing, to avoid whatever is coming in the opposite direction - a bit like a big game of "chicken"... But mopeds and push bikes drive over the laid out rice helping the threshing process. So if your rice ever tastes a bit rubbery, you now know why.



Other traffic apart from buses were the usual motorbikes, bicycles with huge loads, pony traps and bullock carts. Don't think I saw a car the whole way. The tumbledown wooden shacks that line the road and face onto the Mekong river tributaries look really precarious, as do the shacks on the rivers below forming the small fishing villages.


We cross loads of rickety bridges. These have really speeded up the journey, not so long ago you had to do a few river ferry crossings. Dotted by small towns we wended across the delta before arriving at Chau Doc. Well I say Chau Doc, actually it was a field outside Chau Doc where I was uncermoniously ejected from said mini bus and pointed in the direction of my nemesis, the moto... "No," I said, best memsahib voice to the fore, "I want taxi". The moto driver looked at me, and in his excellent English patiently said, "you need to take a moto, how else do you think you will get to your hotel?" Good point, I was in a field, somewhere outside Chau Doc, night was approaching, and I had no idea where I was. Miss Prawn Cocktail, 1954 had finally got her revenge! So on goes the nitty crash hat, a fetching camouflage design, when what I really wanted was one that the Vietnamese girls wear with a rather fetching frilly brim... We talk price, and I think I was rather overcharged, but in a field with few others around, I didn't feel I had a strong negotiating position... He loads my bag between his legs and the front wheel, I put my day bag on my back, handbag over my shoulder, close my eyes and clamber on.
But he knew the hotel I was in and a few terrifying minutes later I am able to open my eyes as I clamber down to the safety of the pavement. The Hai Chau Hotel is great for the price, slightly heavy on the frills but sparkly clean and situated one block back from the river. In Kep I had been why why less, the only wine on offer was a warm, dark orange liquid. It may have been labelled Sauvignon Blanc but looked like it had been sunbathing for a few months, Sauvignon Orange would have better met any Trade Description Act. So off I trot to the posh Victoria Chau Doc where I enjoy the smallest glass of why why I have been offered in a long time, but at least it was half price happy hour so only £2.50...



After my travelling day it was peaceful to sit out overlooking the intersection of the Bassac and Mekong rivers and sip away. In the early evening the river is still busy with ferries, industrial boats, tourist boats and the outside bar at the Victoria a peaceful and quiet place to watch it all go by.
Outside the peace of the Victoria is shattered. Vietnam is a noisy place. The public loudspeakers on each lamp post along the river park are pumping out their uplifting messages and music, but are drowned out by the sound of motos, bells, horns, shouting. Locals play a game I have never seen before and stand in a circle with a version of a shuttlecock which they pass to one another by kicking it in the air. I couldn't work out how the score went, but they were having noisy fun. Older people take their evening constitutional marching smartly along the riverside walk, the women dressed in their pyjama like outfits and conical Vietnamese hats. The few Westerners walking amongst them (me included) looked rather scruffy and unkempt in comparison.
Then back to try out hotel restaurant. A strange affair in the reception area, brightly lit with low energy flourescent, never a flattering light... But time to re visit my old friend, Vietnamese Dalat why why. "No small available" I am told regretfully, so I decide to go for "large" expecting a big glass. But no "large" means a bottle.... Oh well...


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Location:Quang Trung,Chau Doc,Vietnam

Welcome to Kep, Kampot to Kep (7 - 8 March 2013)

Time to move ever onwards towards Vietnam. The best way to go about this isn't clear, lots of travel agents are all promising one thing, a relaxed journey in lovely air conditioned mini buses, a whole seat to yourself, no chickens, no hassle... But I am learning...
I decide to go with Miss Prawn Cocktail,1954. Actually, her name is Marie Rose, but with the fashion round here of calling people after food, I thought I'd join in! And even though she is French speaking, she had a good command of English and seemed to understand my edict "no moto". She could book me from Kampot to Kep, then a few days later to Chau Doc via the Ha Tien crossing (of the famed moto). There are a few bad reviews of her agency online, but she has a tie up with an English guy who runs a bar in Ha Tien so I dropped him a line and he says she's ok. But as they all use the same buses there wasn't a lot of choice. The only problems that arise is if there are border delays out of her control. We'll see. So I pay over my $15, not a lot for the distance. She promises seamless transfers, drop off and collection at your hotel. Well this fell apart at the first fence. Just before getting on the minibus I checked it would drop me off here at the Long Villa Inn. Ah, no she said. "Today different, lot's of people so extra minibus, we drop you at bus station". There followed a "discussion" as to what she had promised, so she refunded me $1 of the $3 it cost for the Kep part of the journey so I could get a tuk tuk to the hotel. Sadly the lowest I could negotiate for the journey was $2 so I am currently $1 down! But on the upside, I assume because she had to lay on an extra bus, there was the luxury of only five people travelling. Yesterday I chatted to the minibus full of people who had come to Kampot with her from Phu Quoc and they looked especially weary. There were 16 of them plus luggage in the eleven seater. But having had the same experience from Sihanoukville I decide that is just par for the course here in Cambodia, and rather a crowded minibus than a moto ride...




But our half empty trip was fun. Quite a busy stretch of dirt road, it seemed we were in fog most of the way, but it was just the dust. I was travelling with the Swiss Mexican couple who were in the Rikitikitavi with me, an Irish Geordie who was drinking beer and lighting up a fag in the bus (much to the annoyance of the Swiss Mexicans who live in San Fran) and an ex journalist from the UK, who likes the beer, bar and party lifestyle. All very entertaining on our 40 minute drive across the potholes.




But not sure he will find the bar and party lifestyle here in Kep. It looks as sleepy as it did five years ago when I last visited, although there has certainly been a building boom with loads more hotels, some very posh and expensive. I am booked into the Long Villa hotel, neither posh nor expensive... It's a small place, only a year old and is situated next to the pier where the boats go out to Rabbit Island. Not a trip I will be taking - crossing the open sea in what looks like a green overgrown canoe with a longtail boat engine sticking out the back just isn't my idea of fun!




The hotel is not fab, ok, but not fab. In a great location right on the sea looking out towards Rabbit Island, but a bit out of town (having said that there's not much in town...). I think it especially suffers compared to Rikitikitavi, I have gone back to "local". Seems cleanish in the bedroom but the bathroom isn't too inviting. It's only supposed to be a year old, but is showing more age than that. Decor is "Cambodian kitch". And at $39US it's at the upper end of prices here. The breakfast was interesting. When I pointed out the ants swimming around in the coffee, the girl smiled, picked up a tissue and tried to fish them out... Her English, whilst slightly better than my Khmer, wasn't really up to the task of her understanding that I didn't want her to go on a fishing expedition in my cup, but to replace it. Finally she understood, but looked surprised. Back to the kitchen it went, but I have a feeling the tissue may have been redeployed out of my sight... But in a country where a lot of people have no clean water I shouldn't complain - but then again, I am paying 39 dollars! And the location is lovely with a clear view of the sea from my bed. There's not much of a beach here, even the bit they call Kep Beach is just a narrow stretch of rather grey sand. The place started in the pre Khmer Rouge days as a seaside retreat, visited by Cambodian Royalty and other rich and stylish VIP's, and called Kep-sur-Mer or the St Tropez of Cambodia. Of course, all that went during the Pol Pot era, the Khmer Rouge were active here until as late as 1995, and left behind are the skeletons of grand French seaside villas, grey with mould, overgrown and still sporting the bullet holes. Perhaps this recent building boom will see a resurgence for the place.
A journalist from the New York Times sees it this way -
"Like so many places that have dropped from, and re-emerged in, the traveler’s gaze, this area of southwestern Cambodia is in the midst of a now-familiar cycle. First come the backpackers, lured by tales of simple coastal villages and untouched island beaches. Next come the pioneering hoteliers, establishing in-the-know outposts of taste and luxury. Finally the big money arrives and, with it, the big plans."
But today I wake up to old Kep, to a warmish room, yet again the power is off here. I thought the hotel had a generator, but so far no one had turned it on. I wander down towards town and stop at Breeze's Lounge, one of those in-the-know outposts, a nice place with a generator and wifi. Then I continue on towards Kep Beach, the main part of "town". It was getting busier and busier with roadside stalls, minibuses going up and down packed (and I mean packed, there must have been over 30 people in some), coaches and the little hammock areas along the coast full of families munching on picnics. I discover that today is International Women's Day and it is celebrated with a national holiday here in Cambodia. And according to the many reports, women here need all the help they can get.




It's now 3pm and the gentle hum of generators is still there behing the squeaks and squeals of the Cambodian kids splashing in the sea supported by huge black inner tubes. Apart, that is, when one runs out of diesel and comes to a shuddering halt, a frequent occurence. Squid are being barbecued, warm prawns are being touted from baskets balanced on the women's heads (no holiday today for these women) and the souvenir sellers are displaying some especially ornate ornaments made from varnished crab shells. Now if I only had room in my bag... Crab fishing is the mainstay of the economy here in Kep, along with tourism, and I spotted this very large swimmer crab that has just been unveiled and of which they are very proud. Welcome to Kep.




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Location:Unnamed Rd,Kep,Cambodia

Kalm in Kampot (4 - 5 March 2013)

I feel a bit easier about wandering around Kampot today, talking to the guy who owns the hotel it appears the murdered French girl was last seen cycling along dirt roads a long way from town near the Muslim fishing village. Not that that makes it any better for her or her family and it's still a shocking crime, but for me it's reassuring that she didn't disappear from town in broad daylight.
Town is quiet, March is the start of the low season here and whilst it's not the start of the wet season just yet, the heat is starting to build with a haze over the mountains and there was some rain last night. This rain is known charmingly as "mango rain" as they are the unexpected short showers towards the end of the dry season that help to make a good, juicy mango crop. Frankly, this is of no concern to me, I can't stand the things.
Kampot is not a big place to wander around and the main centre is a big roundabout, the centre of which is a huge durian fruit, luckily made of concrete, the real thing I fear would create a stench for miles around. It apparently reflects the fruit growing around here. That, fishing and the fine Kampot pepper are the mainstays of the local economy.



There are a few dusty shops stocking so much more than my first visit here when hair conditioner and Coke Light were unavailable. Testament I guess to companies like P&G's strategy of moving into more third world countries. And pack sizes have got bigger too, the only way to buy shampoo in the old days was in those little one use sachets which festooned every shop, you can still get those but normal size and even jumbo bottles are now everywhere, a sign of more disposable income? And unlike Sihanoukville, the latest Khmer fashion of daytime pyjama's is more evident here although unlike a few year's ago it's mainly the slightly older people wearing them. The younger people are now in the ubiquitous Asian younger "uniform" of jeans. And in a country where the average age of the 15 million people who live here is just 23 that's a lot of jeans! Pol Pot has a lot to answer for. But I decide to explore pyjama fashions and in one shop there is a particularly flowery pair on sale for $16US, that seemed a lot in a place where people in the villages exist on $40US a month. What they need is a good Primark... On balance, I decide to give that fashion experience a miss. But the Western fashion influence is still here in the couple of dusty bridal boutiques I pass with the usual confections of nylon and lace.


But this modernisation of fashion hasn't quite hit the buildings yet, there are stilll lots of the old colonial buildings here to see, sometimes with a shop or restaurant opened on the ground floor, but more often than not, left to go to rack and ruin.



Despite the fact that "Happy Dreamily Pizza" - with free wifi - and including that happy dreamily herb sprinkled on top, is on open sale, the type of travellers here are generally more mature traveller's passing through on the medium worn path both ways between Cambodia and Vietnam, stopping for a day or two. Lots of French of course. Last night I was chatting to a British mum and an auntie and the son/nephew who was on his open ended gap year(s), posh enough to have such a choice. And tonight a Swiss Mexican couple who live in San Francisco and had just completed a Burma trip and now, after Cambodia, on to Vietnam. But back to pizza, I understand older people here pop a bit of the happy herb in their tea every morning - now there's a thought, pity I'm not a great tea drinker... And the free wiffy is often not available from the server, but I suppose once you've dug into that pizza you probably don't care overmuch! But the "Happy Dreamily Pizza" is always busy, and if the cop's do come along you can always hastily eat the evidence!


Apart from the local pizza, the delights of Kampot don't have the same offerings as the other tourist traps here. The only massage is "massage by blind" or "seeing hands massage", all very above board. And not a girly bar in sight and no fat European men with Khmer girls. The main diversions are river trips, wending and jungle walks. Oh and the cinema, which looks slightly on the grubby side to me, and by that I mean germ grubby rather than any other kind! I've concentrated on the wending aspect.



And Rikitikitavi is such a good place to chill out. The staff are great. The girl who checked me in told me her (unpronounceable) name, but said everyone calls her "Tomato". The literal translation of her Khmer name is "Lucky" so where "Tomato" comes from, I have no idea - and I really can't bring myself to call anyone by the name of a salad vegetable! It's interesting, the hotel is all reclaimed wood and old stuff, beautifully done and apparently the Khmer's hate it. Old wood is apparently only for the poor, which I can understand looking at the tumbledown wooden structures lining the opposite riverbank. Modern desirable design here is green tinted mirror glass...











But during my town walk today I discover how cheap alcohol is here in the shops, there must be no tax on it at all, but there again, there appear to be few social services on which to spend tax.... I find a bottle of Lindeman's Aussie bubbles for $9US, even with the disaster that the pound is at the moment, it's still under £6 and has been chilling in my fridge all afternoon, so enough of my conversational wending for today, I'm off to pop the cork and settle outside on my little terrace for sunset, a cold glass and a few pages of a trashy novel. Beats happy dreamily pizza any day. That's how to do "Kalm in Kampot"...


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Location:Riverside Rd,Kampot,Cambodia

What a difference a day makes, Sihanoukville to Kampot (3 March 2013)

Time to move on from Sihanoukville and wend my way further around the Cambodian coast to Kampot. The are no regular buses on this route, but there is the option of a shared mini bus which I book at the Cool Banana Travel Shop for the princely sum of $5US. I know, I could have got a taxi... Bearing in mind this is an almost two hour journey and some 110kms, I was wondering how the economics panned out in an eleven seater minibus, $55 is not a lot for the petrol, the driver, the luggage loader at the Sihanoukville end and the depreciation on the minibus, to say nothing of the wear on the tyres on the really rough roads and the frequent replacement of the horn from continual use... It was not long before I found out. We left the Cool Banana almost full, not bad I thought a couple of empty seats. Some dream.... We then stopped up the road and the empty seats filled up. On our way at last I thought..... Some dream. We stop again and three more people were waiting. But no matter, out came all the bags from the back and the boot area turned into three very small jump seats which they struggled into, their knees up in their faces. Rather them than me... But of course the luggage still had to go back in, so they packed it on the narrow six inch ledge that was still left and proceeded to tie ropes around it so it was sticking out the back like the bustle of a Victorian lady's dress, with the door almost at right angles held closed with yet more rope. No chance of the advertised aircon then with the back door completely open!



We all breathed a sigh of relief and hoped the roped in bags, quite a lot with what was now 14 people, wouldn't be left trailing along the dirt roads. My only consolation was that my bag, being a more regular shape was on the bottom, with the irregular shaped backpacks jigsawed together and piled on top, I was hopeful that if it did all go horribly wrong mine would be the last out and someone would have noticed by then! At last, much later than advertised, we set off. Some dream... We stop yet again at another guest house in the back streets where two hopeful looking French people were waiting. A mutual giggle and "no way" reverberated around the bus. The door opened and they proceeded to shove two large backpacks almost on the knees of the passengers in the front row and then indicated that everyone move up a bit so four people could now fit on three seats, especially difficult as these were larger than normal French people probably wishing they hadn't eaten that last baguette... But it proved to be the straw.... With many emphatic shoulder shrugs, a few "zut alors" from the French and an unbelieving "Kampot, comme ca?" followed by many Charles de Gaulle "non's", saw the Cambodian equivalent of a Mexican stand off. Offering to take them "tomorrow" instead" was, surprisingly, not acceptable. And now the rest of the passengers chipped in saying they had paid for one seat, not a bit of a seat so please sort it out. In a country where French is routinely spoken, the exception seems to be Sihanoukville. So with a Danish girl translating the many phonecalls from English to French she eventually was able to tell the French people that another minibus would come for them in ten minutes. We left them there with their luggage in the road, no idea whether the second minibus actually turned up, but I haven't seen them here yet...


Apart from the rather bumpy ride over roads damaged by the last wet season, we arrived late but safely in Kampot. And the journey was with the benefit of "natural aircon", with all windows and the back door open it was like travelling in a force nine gale generated by a hairdryer.



But what a contrast to Sihanoukville. I've been here a couple of times before and not much has changed apart from a monstrosity of a hotel being built on the Riverside, by the design, it looks like Chinese money. Local town planning is still run by the power of the dollar (or should that be yuan renminbi?) rather than sympathetic development I think. It's still a sleepy small Cambodian town, full of rubbish and run down old colonial French buildings. A few soapdodger places offering cheap beer and the odd guest house. It's known as being a safe place where not much happens, until about three weeks ago that is. A young French woman went out on her bike at four o'clock one afternoon and never returned. She was found the next day in the river.... The Cambodian police continue to investigate. Such a pity for a place with such a gentle reputation, and needless to say I am being over cautious, sticking to the main riverside and not walking out at night.
But that's no hardship. I am booked into Rikitikitavi a lovely place on the river. Six rooms downstairs with the bar restaurant upstairs overlooking the river and the Cardamom mountains in the distance, it was originally an old rice barn which has been restored sympathetically by two Brit's so still lots of old dark beams around. The restaurant is fantastic, really good food, beautifully presented. This place is expensive for here so I am paying the grand total of £28 a night B & B with a lovely room, modern four poster bed with a comfortable mattress (a first so far this trip!), modern designer type bathroom - although the why why at £2 a glass does bump that up a bit!


So I while away the days here wandering, reading, soaking up the atmosphere. Watching the old couple in their row boat of an evening letting out their fishing nets and planning my next move towards Vietnam. I plan to cross at the Ha Tien border crossing and my biggest issue so far is to find some sort of continuous transport, most reports talk of having to get a moto (i.e. small motorbike taxi) from the border the 8kms into Ha Tien town to get a connecting bus. This I want to avoid... I'll keep you posted!


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Location:Riverside Rd,Kampot,Cambodia