passing the time...

by throwing playing cards, then rocks, then the family cat, at the trucks and busses that roar through you small town...

Note to Travellers...

The trouble with motorbikes is that the thing you use to hold on, is also the thing you use the make it go fast. So if, perhaps, your boyfriend decides to gun you bike over a railway line, and if he's holding on to the handlebars (read: throttle), really tight, there's only one way to stop, and it's not going to be pretty....

Roadside

red chillis; corn kernels; rice in its husk, spread with shuffling feet into long rows.

The pale crusts of coconut flesh; thick bunches of grass to plait, dyed emerald green, magenta, marigold, and thrashed flat by motos, mini busses, and oxen drawing rickety carts.

Dinner plate circles of rice paper stuck like modern art or kindergarten craft projects to bamboo frames.

Bright white salt, thousands of silvery fish, rudely gutted and butterflied.

Pepper corns, goat dung, granite gravel, daisies, all fly past.

Dragon's Teeth

"Where the dragon descends into the sea" - or where brave and fearless Ros jumps from unbelievable height into possibly dragon-infested tropical water... Here's Blake copying me...



And here's the Halong Bay version of a street seller - no, we dont want to buy any Oreos, thanks...

Yay! Love it when a place is actually as beautiful as the tourist trade makes out. We had a great guide (thank you Ba from Vega travel), a great boat (thank you, other Aussies, for running late and forcing Vega to take a bigger, luxe boat), and a perfect couple of days...

Waking up in Hanoi...

Didn't take long to realise why Hanoi shuts up tight at night - the city needs all the energy it can get for the long, hot, bustling days that begin at 6am with publicly broadcast news - direct to the street from loud speakers dotted along power lines and concrete telegraph poles. Then it's down to the lake for some arobics, badmington, jogging, volleyball or a crazy flying foot-only volleyball with a flying shuttlecock that whizzes through the air in a blur.







In the Old Quarter, life pours from dark, narrow alleyways right onto the street. Guilds that originated in the 17th century define each narrow thoughfare - objects of worship, tombstones, ribbon, rubber stamps, tin objects from cake tins to bike racks, and tall lengths of bamboo, and more modern requirements like mechanics, moto seat covers, fans, and hair clips and blow up toys (floaty rings, dolphins, wading pools, bouncy animals, bright balloons...)

Weaving through these tight streets, footpath packed with parked bikes, tea shops, and wares on display, are wirely-strong street sellers. These women, carrying their products balanced on a rough length of bamboo, baskets bobbing with each trotting step, sell everything from tofu bubbling in hot oil as they walk, to ice tea and live chickens. See the balloons in the distance - that woman spent her days in the middle of the road, but at least she had a light load...

you want moto?

It's hard work hassling tourist all day and night...

Blankey heads to Hanoi

Check out Blake's blog for a sleep deprived account of our spectacular but, 'rustic' overnight bus ride through Northern Laos. This beauty, however, cost us $15 US from the Vietnamese border all the way to Hanoi. Not that we really wanted to go to Hanoi. Or pay $15 for the priviledge. But after spending 24 hours in the border town from hell, complete with rock-throwing children, conspiratorial mini-bus drivers, smug hoteliers and the rancid, money-hungry sleaze bag that we fought to negotiate a fare with (his starting price was $30), we rode this shit box to the outskirts of the city, where all the passengers from this big bus were shunted onto an already full minibus for another 2 hours into Hanoi. When we finally arrived on the doorstep of a hotel, the city was deserted, the streets unlit, the shopfronts sleeping behind metal grills.

Lucky when we woke the next morning it was a different sight...

The Mekong and Luang Prabang (guest entry by Blake)

We had heard various feedback about the two day slow boat ride down the Mekong River (pronounced Mae-Kong in these parts). In general everyone indicated that it was a beautiful trip, but the majority quickly followed it up by saying that it was an extremely long trip on hard seats, and that they wouldn't do it again, if they were given the chance. In spite of this, we arrived with a sense of excitement and were primed for a memorable trip. We arrived early as recommended to get ourselves some front row seats (away from the noisy/smelly diesel engine). With time to burn, we were the first people to pick up our books while we waited for the boat to fill. Another good tactic we learned, as we were ignored when the scramble took place to see who had to share their narrow seats. In this case we were the winners - and what a prize to win - a roomy seat on an 7 hour boat ride. And the scenery was beautiful. Green hills, small villages, minor rapids, swimming lizards... all of this viewed at a serene pace, and in calming quiet.

In a continuum of emotions, 'contentedness' can be viewed somewhere above 'calm' but below 'happiness', yet I consider that day to be one of my most 'content' and I view that as a remarkable achievement. Particularly memorable 'happy' days usually centre around events that are not easily repeated, where as part of the joy of the river cruise was knowing that the contentedness could remain for life. I know that I will always have that calm, beautiful day, and that I have the opportunity for many more of these in the coming months. The overnight stay was in a small village that fed off the river traffic, and this too was magical in its own secluded way. The main street filled with wafting smells, the touts were a friendlier variety than those employed in Thailand, and a spectacular river view completed the town.

On arrival at the boat launch for day two we found that our boat had been upgraded and our new one had a selection of van style padded, reclining seats (literally, these things looked like they'd been ripped out of a mini-van - Ros). We dubbed these First Class (van seats facing the view with extra leg room), Business Class (forward facing van seats with less leg room) and then cattle class (the same upright wodden bench-seats). By arriving early we secured First Class seats. Another magical trip down the river concluded with our arrival at one of the most beautiful cities I've ever visited; Luang Prabang.

Listed as a 'world heritage city' about half a decade ago by UNESCO, Luang Prabang is situated at the intersection of two rivers, and displays its colonial French heritage in its architecture, baguettes and strong coffee. Influences from other neighbouring countries are also visible such as Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese. Perhaps to match the beauty of the city, the Laos people are welcoming and polite, and these elements combine to make this a very homely place to visit.

Whilst here we've tried some local delicacies such as Mekong Seaweed with Sesame Seeds, Spicy Chicken Laap (salad), Stuffed Bamboo, Buffalo BBQ and of course combines these tastes with many bottles of the revered Beer Lao. All have been tasty, with the Buffalo BBQ the most amazing. Buffalo is like a sweeter version of beef, and it was well suited to a cook at the table BBQ in the style of Korean or Japanese BBQ

After soaking up the city, we headed off a local waterfall with some friends from the boat ride, and discovered new shades of turquoise and jade in the water that cascaded down the many levels of this amazing waterfall. This is an umissable stop on any asian travel itinerary.

So it will be that we shall buck the trend - tomorrow we will take another 7 hour boat ride to a smallish northern Laos town from some more relaxation and fine food...

To Nong Kiaw

After some very determined negotiation, we managed to score a lift up the river again with a husband and wife making the journey anyway (although we still paid more than the local price - 80000 kip). Two stops for repairs to the narrow boat's propeller, with much muttering and high pitched cater wailing from wifey as hubby stripped down to his wading y-fronts for mid-steam tinkering and tugging, and we knew we were in for a fun journey. But Blake set up his hammock arcoss the long length of the small timber contruction, and we settled down to enjoy no matter what.

From our water level perspective in the swift, shallow rapids, the thickly tangled karsts rose to ridiculous, monolithic heights, dwarfing the splashing, acrobatic children playing on dark sandy banks and few tiny fishing boats - more like canoes - poled through the river by solitary fisherman. Pale fracturing reaches of a few tall tree trunks stood out like lighting bolts again a dripping wet, thick clouded sky of jungle green.

Our arrival just as night was falling meant a scary scramble up the steep slope, and a hastily chosen, but perfect guesthouse, with a deck from which to drink cool Beer Lao and watch the dark masses of mountain disappear into night.

Gibbon Experience cont...

Number 5 treehouse was out destination, and after about 5 thrilling "zips" across jungle valleys, and a stop at the camp kitchen (home to one very sooky baby bear, rescued from poachers), we arrived, washed off some mud in a bathroom with perhaps the best view on the planet, drank Lao Lao with fellow trekkers and listened to the night noises of the jungle. An early start and difficult trek greeted us in the morning, and Blake and I spent the day lazing in our leafy home...

The return journey, in my Crocs, wasn't looking good, but a swap with one of the young, enthusiasic guides (me stong! no fall like you. go fast - you no strong, you wear shoes), made all the difference. Check out the result of Blake's encounter with a couple of leaches (Stand By Me?), and a few other pics of the journey home...

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