Cambodia - with Fi in Svay Rieng

It's Monday - I say my good byes to the Yellow House Hotel in Saigon and set off for the bus station. And it's as easy as Fi said it would be - in no time I'm on my way to the border town of Moc Bai. A quick moto ride gets me to the border proper, where I catch my first glimpse of Cambodia.

It's a good half hour to get my visa and pass through passport control, then I'm in Bavet on the Cambodian side.

Fi and her IT friends Pisay and Reonsay are there to meet me. Great seeing Fi again, this time on her "home" turf. The taxi's been waiting a while, so head off before it costs too much.

First impressions of Cambodia are better than expected. The guide books say the Svay Reing province is relatively impoverished, and I was expecting a substantial deterioration in living conditions compared to Vietnam. But I am agreeably surprised - good road, modern buildings, and peasant farmers not dissimilar to their Vietnamese counterparts.

Fi rents a nice house in Svay Rieng adjacent to a huge roundabout with a lily pond in the middle - which the local kids use as a swimming pool! We enter through the imposing gates, and I'm keen to sort out a few housekeeping essentials.

"Ok - I've been saving up my laundry - where's your washing machine?"

"I don't have one - we'll take it to the laundry service tomorrow"

"Ok - I'll just freshen up with a hot shower"

"Um - we don't have any hot water. No one does in rural Cambodia"

"What - no hot water!!?"

"No - we boil what we need on the stove. And you're lucky to get a shower at all - most Cambodians wash with a bucket of water drawn from a trough!"

I quickly get used to cold showers - not that cold really given the temperature here.

On Tuesday I go to Fi's work at REDA (Rural Economic Development Association) - a 15 minute moto ride up the main highway towards Pnomh Penh, just past the University (yes, SR does have a Uni - that's where Fi's friends studying IT and English go).

I'm delighted to see the library in use as we arrive, and Fi quickly poses with some of her enthusiastic kids. Setting up this (and other libraries) is Fi's primary role here.

We meet up with Fi's Cambodian Mum, Dad and little brother for lunch. This family rents Fi her house, and ensures her well being. Little brother often comes round and sleeps outside at night so Fi's not alone.

On Wednesday we're invited out to Pilot's house in the countryside to try a bit of buffalo riding.

Fi goes first.

How far to Pnomh Penh?!

Couldn't resist this shot of a farmer tending his buffalo as the late afternoon sun starts to set.

Pilot's family invite us to stay for dinner, and we're treated to yet more genuine Cambodian cuisine. All excellent, including the pork rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. The small deep-fried fish are good too - but a bit fiddly with the tiny bones.

Thursday sees us preparing the library for the official opening, which is also being combined with Fi's farewall. We're a bit concerned the NZ flag dominates the Cambodian flag and the portraits of the royal family to the left, but no one seems to mind.

The REDA director praises Fi's work here, and in turn Fi gives an excellent speech in reply, focusing on the importance of childhood literacy. As she says, children able to read will progress through school to University, acquiring skills that will help Cambodia develop its full potential.

Fi with her favourite kids. Sadly the little girl in the pink top has HIV/AIDS acquired from her mother, as do a couple of the other kids in the vicinity of the library.

Fi and I (and a couple of her REDA volunteer boys) are off to PP tomorrow. From then on it's full-on packing before Fi and I set off together to explore Cambodia, Laos and northern Thailand. More news soon!

Final thoughts on Vietnam

I'm wandering around Saigon on my final evening reflecting on my 19 days here. Stretching my remaining dong to the max (!), I settle on a cheap pho bo for dinner, the quintessential Vietnamese dining experience. I choose the simple beef option - the enhanced Chinese beef penis variant doesn't quite do it for me. (I know, I know - I've said it pays to be adventurous, but there some things I just can't stomach).

But my homeland is calling as well, and I recall seeing a New Zealand Natural ice cream shop just down the road from my hotel. I set off at a trot, and am enjoying a tub of vanilla ice cream for less than I would have paid for it at home.

I've really enjoyed my stay here, and would recommend Vietnam as a travel experience to anyone sooner rather than later - while it retains its charm and before it gets too commercialised.

Only got a week? A tough decision, but spend it in the north - Hanoi, Sapa and Halong will deliver a Vietnamese experience second to none.

Got another week? Spend it in the south - Saigon, Cu Chi and the Mekong delta.

The luxury of a third week will allow you to see central Vietnam - Hue, Hoi An, Nha Trang and Dalat. I missed the latter two due to weather and time issues - perhaps next time.

I've dwelt enough on some of the problems Vietnam has as it pulls itself into the 21st century. And I have no doubt it'll make it due to the industriousness of its people.

But what has it got to offer the west?

I'm continually impressed by the safety aspect of Vietnam. No problems walking around alone in the evening, even for women.

No sleaze, no prostitutes, no massage parlours, no pornography, no graffiti, no gangs, no hoons, no boy racers, no alcohol or drug problems, no racial, sexual or religious differences, no menacing comments, no street fights, next to no beggars, no destitutes, no ostentatious wealth, no road rage, no MacDonalds.

People just get on and do stuff. It's quite refreshing, and a million miles away from the racial grievance industry, nanny welfare state, and P, alcohol and testosterone-fueled violence that characterises the worst of New Zealand.

Perhaps we should become a socialist Buddhist society? Perhaps more Kiwis should travel to places like Vietnam to see how well off they really are?

I don't have the answers, and I doubt I'll have them by the end of my trip either, but I'm interested to hear everyone's opinions.

Tomorrow morning I catch the bus to Moc Bai, and cross the border to Cambodian Bavet where Fi will meet me and take me on to Svay Reing. Great! Looking forward to a whole new set of experiences.

Thanks for your comments and feedback on my blog, everyone. I'm glad you're enjoying following my travels. I hope when Fi and I are travelling together we'll have time and opportunity to keep you similarly updated.

The horror of forty years ago

My last two days in Vietnam have unintentionally focused on the American war years, with visits to the War Remnants Museum and the Cu Chi Tunnels in quick succession. Take care reading on if you're easily offended by graphic images and descriptions. The Vietnamese don't pull any punches. This is a pretty sombre post.

After a quick sojourn around the Independence Palace I grab a bite for lunch and head on to the War Remnants Museum. This is a powerful experience, and I regard it as a must-see for anyone visiting Saigon/HCM. The war was raging when I was a teenager completing Te Awamutu College, and I have vivid memories of the images splashed across my TV screen, accompanied by the anti-communist propaganda that accompanied it, justifying Western involvement in this brutal war of occupation and repression.

On entry to the museum I'm confronted by a huge variety of American weaponry - planes, helicopters, tanks, bulldozers, guns, bombs - all well maintained and able to be examined close up.


The engineering side of me marvels at 175mm guns able to fire shells over 32km,

and F5-A jet fighters capable of flying at over 1,200 kph while carrying five bombs and an array of rockets and machine guns. The moral side of me shudders at the damage these weapons do, more often than not to innocent civilians on the ground.

More chilling are the Tiger cages where "stubborn" political prisoners were incarcerated and tortured by the South Vietnamese regime, under French then American tutelage.

But more chilling still are the images of mangled and burned bodies (napalm and phosphorous), and real foetuses hideously deformed from Agent Orange exposure floating in jars of formaldehyde before my eyes.


This image of a terror-stricken child running down the road with outstretched arms, her body covered with third degree burns from a napalm attack, was portrayed across newspapers and TV screens in 1972. The sheer horror of this image viewed in living rooms around the world brought home just how repugnant this conflict was, and hastened the withdrawal of American forces a year later. Nick Ut, an Associated Press photographer, earned a well-deserved Pulitzer Prize for his photography. For those who don't know, the little girl, Kim Phuc, miraculously survived due to Nick's intervention, and went on to become a UNESCO goodwill ambassador.

It's impossible to walk around this place without tears welling up in my eyes. But it has to be seen - if only to remind everyone of the sheer senselessness of the innocent slaughter. I sense I'll be subjected to similar horrors when I get to the Cambodian killing fields.

A final image reminds us that through our children we do have an opportunity to live in peace, and that those who were once enemies are now our friends.

Sunday sees me on the bus to the Cu Chi tunnels. I'm sitting next to Leigh from Seattle, who coincidentally I'd bumped into the day before. We chat away before stopping at a workshop where the handicapped (some from Agent Orange exposure) make exquisite inlaid prints, plates, jewelery and furniture.

I'm sorely tempted by some stunning lacquered plates and bowls, but just don't have room to fit them in my pack.

On the bus we're treated to the entertaining life story of our guide, Mr Binh. Binh grew up in the south and received naval military training in the States before returning to fight the Viet Cong (VC), captaining a patrol boat up the Mekong. On surrender in 1975 he was detained for four years in a "re-education" camp. He had chosen to stay in Vietnam rather than flee to the States, no matter the consequences. As he says, this is his homeland.

We arrive at Cu Chi to find hordes of tourist buses have beaten us to it. We're rushed through a video (which could be improved considerably in quality and content - it's excessively strident in its anti-Americanism), and then proceed to visit a number of foxholes. Binh warns us that "fat-arses" should not attempt to get in to the hole, and relates the unfortunate story of a large woman who lost her clothing being dragged back up.


Fortunately my arse isn't that fat!


This tank was destroyed by a delayed action mine. The VC were quite cunning - noting that the rear of a tank is more vulnerable due to the location of the fuel tank, they set the mines to explode as the tanks rolled off them, not on to them.

We encounter a number of booby traps before spending 10 minutes at a cafe, where we also have the chance to fire off a few rounds from (I think) an AK-47. At $1.30 a round, combined with the moral dilemma of firing weapons at a place that has seen untold death and destruction, I decline the opportunity.

A new guide (whose parents fought on the VC side) explains the strategy employed by the VC. The Cu Chi region consists of hundreds of kilometres of tunnels, bunkers and living quarters, where the VC lived underground for four years. Essentially the VC were invisible, appearing apparently at random to engage American troops. Trenches were set up 500m apart. As the Americans advanced, the VC would retreat underground to the second and third trench positions. Once the Americans were across the first trench line, the VC would race back underground and attack from the rear, trapping the troops in a deadly crossfire.

Despite extensive bombing, napalm and defoliants, the Americans never succeeded in defeating the Cu Chi VC - a testament to skillful guerrilla strategy combined with a burning desire to repel the invaders of one's homeland.

We enter the first layer of tunnels (we're too big to even consider going deeper to the second and third layers), and zig zag our way crouched double to the first exit point. It's incredibly hot, tiring and claustrophobic, and some choose to exit at this point. I carry on, and as the tunnel narrows and my muscles scream, and I'm forced on to hands and knees in the lower sections, I start to think I should have done the same.

Finally, light appears ahead, and with relief I shoot up to the surface like a diver surfacing for air. I'm hot, sweaty and sore after just a few minutes underground, and can't imagine how the VC could endure these conditions for so long.

On our way back I find myself sitting next to Emma from London. More chatting and more email and blog addresses exchanged.

Thanks Leigh and Emma - great chatting with you.

For all my fellow travellers, be assured you'll receive a warm welcome in Auckland if you ever make it Down Under.

Exploring the Mekong Delta

The Mekong (Mother of all Rivers) rises high on the Tibetan plateau, and runs 4,800km through China, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia before it finally enters the South China Sea through the Mekong delta, where it is known to the Vietnamese as the river of nine dragons as it braids into nine estuaries.

My task is to explore this fertile Vietnamese ricebowl, and in true serendipitous fashion I stumble on to the Innoviet travel agency just down the road from my hotel, which runs an overnight homestay tour involving cycling! Even better, their next tour leaves tomorrow, and I'll be joining a group of six others. Excellent - I can meet more fellow travellers (always easier in a group tour), and sneak in before the storm heads our way. I quickly part with $48 and look forward to two days of new adventure.

We meet at the agency at 7am. First problem - the hotel breakfast starts at 7am. I hover outside the kitchen begging for a bread roll and a bit of jam at 6.50am before racing down the street with crumbs flying everywhere.

On to the bus and I meet my travelling companions for the next two days - I'm sitting next to Mareike (German) and her Swiss boyfriend (Patrick - and no, he's not Irish). Mareike is a physiotherapist in Freiburg (Black Forest), while Patrick is a research chemist in Berne, working with fats. Doesn't sound very glamorous, but he's working on a project to turn saturated fats into unsaturated. I tell him to come to NZ. If we could breed/process sheep and cows so their meat contained unsaturated fats it would be a major boost to our meat industry.

Later in the day as we swap around I meet newlyweds Tera and Erik, an American couple who have spent a lot of time in NZ running confidence-building courses for kids. They're heading home to Colarado. And to cap off the NZ connection, Lucy and Ru live in Devonport! They're off to Sydney in March to earn better money and see the world - sounds just like Debbie and me 30 years ago.

Needless to say, all are around half my age, but I fit in ok. Our Vietnamese guide Thong (I think, pronounced something like Drom) has a quiet word to one of the others. "That's not George Bush, is it?", nodding in my direction - everyone has a good laugh. I can see I'll have to change my appearance - it's not the first time people have commented on my similarity to the soon to be ex-US President, both here and at home.

The delta is very flat and a bridge engineer's paradise - streams and tributaries everywhere, with a succession of large and small bridges to navigate. As happens in NZ on soft ground, the road slumps away from the bridge abutments over time, leaving some jarring transitions slowing the bus to a crawl. That plus general congestion makes for a slow but scenic trip.




We swap to a ferry and a succession of small boats and sampans, and explore a coconut candy factory, sample honey tea, and are entertained by a group playing Vietnamese music. I pass on the opportunity to buy a CD for 50,000 dong.

Finally the opportunity to do some cycling eventuates - I look forward to at least a mountain bike with a modicum of gearing, but find myself on a single speed free wheeler with a wide sprung seat. I feel like an old granny languidly cycling along, and try and visualise myself as a tough hard-edged mountain biker or bike courier who choose single speeds. Doesn't work very well, despite riding on the gravel edge of the paved track.

We pass through lush green rice fields and visit a rice processing factory where the rice grains are separated from the husks. On the delta they can get three rice harvests per year - a marked change from Sapa where they can manage only one due to the cooler temperatures. It really is the rice bowl of Vietnam here, and it's interesting to speculate on whether Cambodia would be richer and Vietnam poorer if the delta had remained as part of Cambodia.

The crocodile farm was a bit of a disappointment - lots of juvenile crocs in a pen, but nothing else. I was hoping to pick up some nice croc accessories for the the girls and me - shoes, belts, handbags - but it wasn't to be. Not a shop to be seen. And no snake farm - the travel office led me astray on that one.




But this little fellow in a nearby cage caught my eye. "Dead in one minute if he strikes you", explains Thong. I look carefully for holes in the rusty wire netting separating him from me.

Eventually we arrive at Vinh Long and meet our homestay hosts, none of whom can speak English. But it's surprising what a smile, sign language, and a few basic Vietnamese phrases can achieve. In anglicised pronunciation:

• Hello - Sin jow
• My name is Steve - Do la Steve
• Thank you - Garm ern
• Good bye - Darm bweet
  

Settling in.

Tera, Erik, Thong, Mareike, Patrick, Lucy & Ru sitting down to a sumptuous feed.

Dinner is superb, and with night well and truly fallen we tuck in to little sampans and cruise up the streams. It takes no time at all to spot them - little glowing lights up in the trees and darting to and fro - fireflies! With an improvised plastic bag on the end of a bamboo pole we swat at them and catch the occasional one - their lights turning the bag in to an incandescent balloon. Locals used to keep a few fireflies in a glass jar to act as a lantern.

I hadn't paid much attention to the wooden slab with its thin bamboo mat on arrival. But preparing for bed we quickly realise that this is it - our mattress! One blanket underneath is the only extra padding I get. Needless to say it is not a good night - I turn over and hope I fall asleep before the pain forces me to roll again. The situation is not helped by a premature rooster who decides that 3.44am is an excellent time for the world to wake up. I could have throttled the bastard, even if I do like chooks.

At 6.30am it's actually a relief to get up and resume our travels - this time to the floating markets.

Large boats come down from Saigon (the local name - it's mostly northerners who call it HCM) and run the produce they have to sell up on their masts. This is the signal for hordes of wholesalers to converge on them, loading up their little boats with produce to take off to the land markets on the various delta islands. We stop and buy some pineapples as an early breakfast treat.

On to the land markets - not dissimilar to the markets seen elsewhere in Vietnam, but now we have bread, coffee and some un-nameable sweet treats that are actually remarkably good. It pays to be adventurous with the food - you're often agreeably surprised.

And a few interesting sights in the meat section too.

Eyeing up a pig's head...

On to a local brick factory. Sounds boring, but it was surprisingly interesting. Local clay is fed through a rattly old machine that extrudes the bricks, which then dry in the sun for a few days before being fired in a kiln for 15 days. Rice husks are used as fuel, and the ash is returned to the fields as fertiliser. All very low tech, but functional and sustainable.

Highlight is the visit to the local temple - I've never seen so many joyful, happy smiling kids. They may be orphans but it's not clear. Most have half their head shaved, which means they're not long term at the temple. I carry one of the kids on my shoulders, and he thinks it's a huge joke as he's now looking down on everyone else.

As I normally do at the temples, I discreetly slip a small note in to the donation box. This one surprised me - the note triggered a detector and as everyone swung round to look at the commotion we were enertained by 10 seconds of religious music in gratitude!

Back to the home stay and we help out by making spring rolls for lunch. These are different to my Hoi An ones. The contents are wrapped in a net-style rice paper, briefly deep-fried and served. They're eaten by wrapping in a larger sheet of solid rice paper, along with salad ingredients and noodles, and dipping in condiments - light fish oil and chili. Excellent! Rice paper is a magic material - acts like greaseproof paper, but of course it's edible, so it serves as all manner of food wrappings.

These little cuties were bought from the market by a previous homestay group, and provided lots of entertainment.

We say our good byes to our hosts and most of our fellow travellers - only Mareike, Patrick and I are returning to Saigon - and a slow, tedious trip it is. Good to be back in the Yellow House Hotel for a non-squat toilet and shower. I'm so full after the large lunch I skip dinner and collapse in to a nice soft bed, with the National Geographic channel lulling me off to sleep.

My next encounter of the Mekong will be in Cambodia - roll on!

Hoi An to HCM

My last night in Hoi An was a damned sight better than the previous. Starting at around 4pm, a particularly mournful rendition of Vietnamese music came over the loud speakers. Now Vietnamese music is pretty chronic at the best of times, but this stuff made me want to sink to the bottom of the pool and not come up again.

I was seriously going to take the hotel management to task. After all, what sort of entertainment is this? It permeated my room and even my headphones couldn't prevent its intrusion in to my brain. It stopped at 9pm as I was making my way down the stairs to complain, so I retreated to my room for a decent night's sleep.

Until 5am, when guess what - the same mournful music started up again! When my senses finally registered what was happening I stormed down the stairs, and surprisingly there was actually someone on the front desk.

"Terribly sorry", she said. "There's been a death at the house next door, and the music is coming from there. It should stop soon, as the body's being taken away". Sure enough, a group of people and a monk are milling around outside. I watch for a few moments, but feel like I'm intruding and retreat to my room. The music stops at 6am, but of course I'm wide awake now. I reflect on the whole situation, and hope someone plays some loud music and pisses everyone off when I die too! Listen up girls. How about "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees? Should get me dancing in my coffin!

But last night is much better, and I set off for a final morning in Hoi An, seeing the last of the sights. And I run in to a bit of a problem. To get in to the sights, you need a 75,000 dong ticket. But the ticket only allows access to one example of four categories of sights. So you have to choose one "Old house" out of four. And one "Congregation house" out of four. This is a pain. So the trick is to be a bit sly about it. Buy the ticket, but keep it in your pocket as you cross the threshold with a bunch of other tourists. Chances are you'll get away with it while the ticket collector is preoccupied. If challenged, see if 10,000 dong will get you in, else if you've finished seeing the others, get your ticket clipped. I saw all the sights I wanted to see this way, except for one "Old House".

The 30kms from Hoi An to Da Nang airport is only $10 - not bad when I think of the cost at home to get from Birkenhead to Auckland airport, which is seven times that amount.

An uneventful flight down to HCM, but I am mentally preparing myself to do battle with the taxi drivers. Recall last time I got slugged 150,000 dong to get from HCM Airport to the Yellow House Hotel - night rates of course! How will I fare this time? Standard rate is $5 or 80,000 dong...

Sure enough, I fall in to the arms of another scamming taxi driver. But I'm wiser. "80,000 dong to Yellow House Hotel", I say. "No no - not enough - rush hour - use meter". It's 4.30pm - he's right about rush hour. This trip will take ages and cost a fortune by meter. "Fixed price - how much?", I say. "120,000 dong", comes the response.

So now a dilemma. "Too much - 100,000 dong". "No no - only cheaper way is moto - 50,000 dong".

My eyes light up. It's 4.30pm and 31 degrees C, the trip will take ages and cost heaps in a sweltering taxi. A moto will slip through the traffic in no time, and give me an adrenaline boost as well. "Ok", I say to the driver's sidekick who holds the moto keys, "let's go".

I think quickly. No helmet? Bare arms? Bare legs? Light weight clothes and shoes? 20kg pack? 30 minute trip in HCM rush hour? No problem! This is an adventure tramp after all - a bit of risk just adds to the excitement. My boring project management training on risk management is thrown out the (moto's) window.

My pack is wedged in front of the driver and I hop on the back. Rush hour is right! Cars and motos everywhere, with a lot of congestion. No problem for my boy - he makes Valentino Rossi look like an amateur the way he carves through the field. Traffic lights turning green are his opportunity to wring the guts out of his little Honda trying to keep in front, though he has a 90kg handicap compared to most others. Road ahead congested? No problem - we'll just bounce up on to the footpath, bottoming the suspension so I get bounced off the seat, and scattering pedestrians in all directions as we hurtle to the front of the pack again.

With my heart in my mouth and my bum rather painful we finally arrive at the Yellow House Hotel, and I psych myself for the next scam attempt. I give him 50,000 dong. "No no - 100,000 dong!". "No way boyo - we agreed 50,000 dong. 100,000 was for taxi!". He protests but I have the advantage of superior knowledge. I walk in to the hotel and invite him to follow me so we can have it out in front of the hotel reception staff. He concedes defeat and motos off. Victory!!

As I check in the receptionist asks me how much I paid. "50,000, but he wanted 100,000 to get me from the airport to here", I said proudly. "Ah - she said - should only have been 40,000 by moto". Bugger - scammed again!

After a bit of Internet research I book my Mekong Delta trip - 2 days, overnight home stay, and a bit of cycling thrown in (you can't call it mountain biking on the delta, which is as flat as a pancake apart from the pot holes). The storm out in the South China Sea is apparently setting course for HCM, so I want to get the tour done before the wet weather I've experienced up north sets in. Apparently we visit a snake farm...

I'll spend the weekend dodging showers in HCM seeing the last of the attractions and doing the Cu Chi Tunnel trip before heading across to Cambodia. Can't wait to see where Fi's been living and working these last few months.

Stay tuned for my next post in a day or two. Knowing my luck I'll probably be describing a successful scam by a large cobra.

The Jamie Oliver wannabe in Hoi An

What a great day - I like Hoi An! The cooking class doesn't start till 11am, so I go for a stroll through some of the sights. Hoi An was once THE trading capital of Vietnam in the 16th and 17th centuries, and all the old architecture is still standing - fortunately unscathed by the war 40 years ago. Japanese, Dutch, Chinese and Indian traders set up emporiums here, and the Assembly Halls, old houses and Japanese Covered Bridge are definite sights to see on the walking trail around town.


Chinese Assembly Hall. A shame about the bus loads of bloody tourists - wish they'd get of of my photo!




Hoi An straddles the Hoai River, which is still in flood after the recent storms. A lot of the old town close to the riverbank is inaccessible, as you can see here.

I'm picked up at 11am by a moto rider and have yet another wild ride through flooded streets to meet up with the rest of the cooking class - about 13 of us all told. After a refreshing drink (try a mixture of orange, pineapple and lemon juice) we're off to explore the markets and find out just what all those strange foods are on display. The markets start at around 1am when the stall holders purchase their goods from wholesalers. The fish, meat and veges are straight off the boat/butchery/farm at this point. Ice keeps some foods cool (eg fish), but most of the produce survives pretty well through the morning, when the markets are the most active.

We don't buy anything though - all our ingredients are pre-purchased for us. We board a bus and are taken out to a place called Red Bridge a few kms from town. Normally we'd boat to it, but the river is too dangerous in flood. Red Bridge is a nice restaurant, and a little area has been specially set up with individual gas stoves for us. Our chef takes us through the following dishes, and we get to make some of them too:

• Warm squid salad in half a pineapple (demo only)
• Vietnamese eggplant in clay pot (demo and practice)
• Fresh rice paper rolls of shrimp (demo and practice)
• Hoi An pancakes - savoury (demo and practice)
• Food decoration - tomato flower and cucumber hand fan (demo and practice)
• Steamed ocean fish on a bed of mixed vegetables (recipe only)

All are delicious (and of course we get to sample most of what we make). The squid salad is superb, and I'm itching to try it when I get home. The eggplant dish is better than it sounds - the eggplant is boiled in water and lemon grass rather than being fried. Then the water is drained off and tomato puree and pineapple juice added to the now non-bitter eggplant. Brilliant!

The Vietnamese equivalent of spring rolls are made from rice paper rather than being deep-fried, and are all the better for it. Of course I made my own rice paper...


and very tasty my shrimp rolls are too. Jamie Oliver - eat your heart out!

My tomato flower is pretty good, but I don't slice the cucumber thinly enough to get a good fan, so the photo doesn't grace the blog!

After all the snacking we sit down to a slap-up lunch, which includes the steamed ocean fish - perhaps the only dish that doesn't appeal to me.

I don't get to make my favourite chicken, lemon grass, chili and ginger stir fry, but it looks pretty straightforward - I'll do a bit of experimenting when I get home.

All in all an excellent session - the only cautionary note comes from our chef who advises it's best not to say "Yum" when in Vietnamese company with good food. It means "horny". And you can guess what "Yum, yum" means!



The view out over the river from Red Bridge.

After lunch we bus back in to town, and on my way back to the hotel come across a little stall selling chopsticks with stands in a lacquered box with dragons embossed on the top. Now I already have an excellent set of Japanese chopsticks from Nik, but I couldn't resist these ones. Guess I might just need a set of chopsticks from every country I visit where I'm inspired by the food! I also pick up a slicing/chopping tool that makes short work of veges, and is better than a grater.

My walk back to the hotel takes me back through the food markets...


I have a soft spot for chooks, and don't like seeing these guys caged up. But it's the way things work here, so c'est la vie. Just as well they're not pukekos!



And I think I might have mentioned before that anything can be carried by moto.

Noon tomorrow I head back to Da Nang and fly on down to HCM. A few days on the Mekong delta await, but for now it's good bye from central Vietnam.

Hanoi, Hue & Hoi An photos

Water puppets in Hanoi



Dragon boats watching dog watching girl in Hue



Motos making a dash for it in Hue.



Inside the Hue citadel



Hoi An markets where I'll be shopping for meat & veges tomorrow. Once we get over our excessive western sensibilities about hygiene & refrigeration we realise our forebears for centuries were buying fresh produce from daily markets just like this.

Stand by for the taste test!

Hue to Hoi An

My last night in Hoi An had some interesting moments. Leaving my hotel, I set of for my favourite restaurant (the Banana Mango), only to be waylaid by a silk shop. Pauline - you are now the proud owner of a couple of blouses - hope you like them! Perhaps Fi can bring them home for a late Christmas present if she has room.

Robert, if you get to Hue you'll have to try the Banana Mango. It does the best and cheapest food I've tasted so far. The place is packed - just don't be put off by the mould spreading up the walls. I doubt if the kitchen would even register on the alphabet of our hygiene scale, but looking by the number of elderly Vietnamese there I don't think there are too many serious food bugs. And sit by the door - the cigarette smoke is a bit overpowering inside.

The walk back to my hotel was interesting. I'd been propositioned by moto riders before, but not quite like this.

Hey, moto?
No thanks
Then girl, you want girl?
No thanks
Beautiful girl, you want? Very beautiful. I take you
No thanks. I don't want a girl (This guy is starting to piss me off - I walk faster)
Yes, beautiful girl. You go dancing, then boom boom!

I smile to myself at his persistence and choice of words, but explain to him in no uncertain terms that I don't want his girl, and stride off. I think he finally gets the message.

After a standard hotel western breakfast (bread roll, jam, banana & coffee) I board my bus to Hoi An. A long slow trip, but a few interesting sights. We stop at a beach resort for a loo stop - this is the last place I'd want to take a holiday. The place is new with interesting architecture, but poorly maintained and looks shabby already. And of course the beach is no great shakes by Kiwi standards, and is all churned up by the storm in the South China Sea that still extends rain bands across flooded central Vietnam.

A 6km tunnel sees us through the mountainous approach to Da Nang - once known as the location of a huge US air base and now a large and prosperous looking city. We don't stop, but continue south past the coast where the American GIs took their R&R during the war - China Beach (not its Vietnamese name). There's nothing to remind anyone of what took place here 40 years ago, although apparently one enterprising hotel owner has named his hotel China Beach to cash in on the American tourists.

I listen to my headphones.

I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back

The Stones' anthem of death, despair and depression is a fitting allegory to the history of this place, not just for the GIs who lived and died here, but also for those who returned home tormented by the horrors they'd seen, compounded by condemnation from the people who sent them. A fruitless war if ever there was one, yet American politicians are slow learners. It's happening all over again in Iraq.

But enough of history. I arrive in Hoi An to yet more wet weather. The bus kindly stops at a hotel that has a nice room for $10/night. I wonder whether I should wander down the road for a cheaper one, but the rain and flooded streets suggest I am better off where I am. I'm in for two nights.

First step is to book my forward travel. I decide to skip Nha Trang (a beach resort with good snorkeling etc), but in this weather and turbid water it's pointless going out. I'll save my beach experience for later in the trip, and head back to HCM and spend some time on the delta. The train costs $40, takes 12 hours, and gets me in to HCM at 4.30am. Flying costs $56 and takes an hour. A no-brainer - I've seen plenty of countryside now, and I nod in the direction of a carbon credit to offset my excessive consumption.

But what to do in Hoi An for a day? It only takes half a day to see the sights. Then I spot it in the tour guide - a Cooking Course! So for half a day I'll be scouring the markets buying ingredients and whipping up some Vietnamese culinary masterpieces. Hope I get to do my favourite meat with chili, ginger and lemon grass recipe.

I have a wander around the old town - very similar to lots of other markets, but in Hoi An there's a much greater emphasis on clothing. I see another silk top for Pauline and can't help myself - yes - that design in that fabric with that embroidery. Ready at 10.30am tomorrow? Excellent.

But now it's time for a swim - the hotel has a private pool. And I see the computer's got a USB port too - stay tuned for a few more photos.

Ubiquity

There are many recurring images in Vietnam. Let me take you through a few.

Motos - everywhere - cities, suburbs, towns, rice fields. Honda and Yamaha must be making a killing

Conical hats - cheap and practical, these are seen everywhere in both towns and the countryside

3 story houses - with very narrow street frontages - reminds me of Amsterdam. Clearly land is scarce and homes have to build up. The strange thing is, even new homes in the middle of the rice fields are built in this style. Their highly rectangular plan looks strange when one would expect a squarer section to be more versatile

Shanty houses - bits of wood and corrugated iron nailed together, sometimes with sandbags and sticks keeping the roof on. They're the standard form of living for the poorer people (which is most). Typically they'll have a little shop out the front flogging off veges or basic commodities

Bamboo - this stuff is amazing. Not only does it grow everywhere, but it's put to every conceivable use - food, art, hats, matting, tools, construction, flooring, roofing, scaffolding, retaining walls, bridges and decks, fence posts and rails, and of course pipes for irrigation and drainage when hollowed out. Pipes for smoking too, no doubt.

Hot water cylinders - While we hide ours inside, the Vietnamese have stainless steel cylinders polished to a high sheen sitting on top of their roofs. (Why, Nik?)

Small shrines - as a Buddhist country, worship and offerings are integral to society. All shops have a small (about a 500mm cube) shrine containing a Buddha statue, candles, decoration, offerings, and often some incense. It's highly offensive to stand close to them - they must be treated with respect. The same shrines also sit on posts along the highways. The opportunity to reflect on one's karma is ever present.

Cemeteries - Every village has a little burial plot for its residents. Tombs range from simple slabs to quite elaborate pagodas depending on the wealth of the deceased's family. It's quite amazing seeing yet another cemetery tucked in to the rice fields every few km down the road. After death the body is buried in an interim grave while the family mourns, and there are quite strict rules about what the family can do over this period - eg no marriage. Once the flesh has rotted away the family exhumes the body, scrubs the bones clean, and formally reburies the body in the family plot.

Bidet attachments - part of the French heritage I guess. Rather than a full bidet, every toilet has a little hose attached to a mini-shower head. Cold water of course!

Primitive infrastructure - everywhere you go the quality of basic infrastructure - roads, sewers, water reticulation - is poor. If Vietnam really wants to make it in the 21st century they need to tackle the basics first. But conversely I'm continually surprised by ubiquitous mobile coverage and Internet access. Hence the frequency with which I can update my blog.

These will be among my lasting images of Vietnam.

A day in Hue

The Canh Tien Guesthouse is based in the middle of town, and is perfectly adequate for $8/night. I have a double bed, a TV with CNN, and some resident fauna - a pair of lizards! I watch with amusement as they scamper across the walls, and hope there isn't a resident snake around too trying to catch them.

With my trusty $1 poncho from Payless Plastics I wander around the streets near my hotel trying to get a feel for the place. Hue has a nice ambience to it - extensive grassy areas beside the Perfume River, with lots of sculptures. The streets are much less crowded than Hanoi, and the bit of breeze accompanying the rain blows what little pollution there is away. The markets are similar, and of course there are motos and cyclos to be had (or fended off) at every corner.

The river is swollen, but not really in flood - though clearly it's been a bit higher a few days before. Too rough to take a boat trip though. There are way too many Western-style eateries here - I scour the place looking for a cheap restaurant full of Vietnamese, and eventually find one. Stir-fried beef with veges, ginger & lemon-grass is excellent. The meal plus a bottle of the local beer comes to 50,000 dong ($3) - can't complain about that.

Speaking of beer, I haven't found a Vietnamese beer I haven't liked! They're all lagers, but all perfectly acceptable. The only bad experience was in Lao Cai where I chose a Chinese beer from just across the border - weasel piss!

With a full day in Hue as well, I take the opportunity to see some of the sights. The Imperial Citadel across the river is a must-see - amazing buildings, ancient 20-tonne cannons (never fired in anger), throne room and gardens. Could do with a bit of maintenance though. The walls and outside tiles have centuries of embedded grime and mould, and the whole thing could do with a damned good water blasting - or even just a decent scrub. Instead of actually cleaning the tiles, they just put up a little sign - "Caution - slippery". About as lethal as the path to your front door, Nik.

Next on the agenda was the Thien Mu Pagoda - about 4km west along the river. It wasn't raining much, so decided to walk it - you see a lot more that way, and can stop for photos at any time. The moto riders thought I was crazy though. The pagoda was very pleasant with extensive grounds, but unfortunately I couldn't go inside as it was under renovation. No worries - plenty seen already, and lots more to see on my travels.

While walking back in to town I came across the first stall selling war memorabilia - American water canteens, knives, a compass, and identification tags. They looked pretty genuine - some of the knife blades had nearly rusted through. I wasn't interested in buying anything - but my mind did go back 40 years to when this city was a battleground. I watched "Full Metal Jacket" before leaving - it was set in Hue and up the Perfume River. Fortunately the war is now ancient history, and there's no animosity to Westerners at all. Time heals a lot of wounds.

I stop in at the DMZ Bar for a beer to collect my thoughts, and plan the next leg of my trip. Tomorrow morning I take the 8am bus down through Da Nang and China Beach to Hoi An. I'll be sure to have the Rolling Stones "Paint it Black" ringing in my ears as I'm passing through.

Of paper knives, puppets & toilets

Hey, forgot to mention I'd found my Vietnamese paper knife! I'd seen a few bone knives, but rather fancied a steel blade. And after a bit of searching the back streets of Hanoi, I found it - an authentic (NOT made in China) blade in a scabbard that can be hung on a wall. 150,000 dong all up, so I'm pretty pleased. Next knife from Cambodia...

So to pick up the story, I got back from a great trip to Halong Bay, and killed a bit of time before the water puppets and my train to Hue. I was worried if I was cutting it fine - I had to take my pack to the puppets, store it, see the show which finished at 10.15pm, then get to the station in time for an 11pm departure.

The puppets were good value. Controlled by animators behind a screen, the puppets splashed around depicting various scenes from Vietnamese myth and history, often with a sense of humour. I liked the one of the peasant finally catching a frog, only to have it snatched off him by a giant snake!

Out of the show, I grab my pack, and look for a moto. Of course there's one on every corner, and after another wild and exhilarating ride through the streets of Hanoi we of course make it to the train station with heaps of time to spare. I settle in to my sleeper cabin with a Vietnamese businesswoman and her son. We smile, but she speaks no English.

The train toilet. Surely these things can be designed a little better. The water level comes half way up the bowl, and the rythmical swaying of the train sets up a sloshing response that hits resonant frequency dead on. Which wouldn't be so bad in itself, as there's a drainage hole in the floor. This of course presupposes the previous user chose to flush.

A 12 hour trip for the 600-odd kms down to Hue - not a stunning speed. But at least this time I get to see a bit of the countryside in daylight. Endless rice fields, some being ploughed by a bullock and rickety old plough that looked like it came from the middle ages. Thinking of our highly mechanised agriculture in NZ, I wondered what amazing productivity increases could be achieved if a bit of Kiwi nouse and mechanisation could be applied. Then I thought, why bother? The Vietnamese have ample population for manual-intensive activities, and this method of rice production has been sustainable in this form for centuries. Anyway, a tractor would get bogged down where a bullock can plod through with minimal damage. Works well!

I strike up a conversation with Thong, one of the train guards. In half an hour we've conveyed as much information two native speakers could do in a minute, but it's fun trying. Thong helps me with some of the finer points of intonation on my basic Vietnamese words, and I tell him how beautiful Vietnam is, and a bit about NZ.

As I step out of the train into the rain my first impressions of Hue are not good. But things improve.

Bargaining & scamming

I made it to Hue ok, but the weather isn't clearing like I hoped. Steady rain as I make my way to my hotel, and the Internet forecast looks like the same for tomorrow. Bummer - Hue looks like a lovely city.

So I 've done my washing, had a shower, repacked my pack, and recharged my camera & phone. But with the rain still falling, I'll do a quick note for Robert about scamming (Robert's on his way to Vietnam in late December, and will need these tips).

Now don't get me wrong - Vietnamese are lovely, friendly and generally honest people. Just like the rest of us. But every now and then you get a few ratbags who prey on tourists.

Bargaining
Vietnamese are natural born traders and bargainers. Bargaining at markets and most tourist shops is expected and encouraged - only in rare cases might you be presented with a fixed price. Here are the techniques:

• Be aware of the approximate value of what it is you want, both in dong and USD ($1 = 16,000 dong)
• Have small denominations in both currencies available
• Ask the price. Do a quick mental calculation. If not in the ballpark, walk away. They may chase you once you've expressed interest.
• If interested, offer 30%
• Negotiate to around 50-60%
• Present the right amount - depending on which pocket they access they may not have the right amount of change
• Say thank you (garm ern) and walk away happy
• If you think they got a slightly better deal, ask for a photo. A beaming street trader who just got 10,000 dong more than expected makes a great photo, and it really costs you nothing.

Buying fruit
Similar to above, but I find it easier to offer an amount I want to spend (eg 5,000 dong), and see how many bananas/mandarins they'll give me for it. Otherwise you'll probably end up being overcharged.

Scams
Scams are where you enter in to a transaction in good faith, but you end up being ripped off. Scammers are very good at their art, and you will be scammed. Follow the tips above, and these additional points below, and your losses may not be too bad.

• Agree the service and associated cost before anything happens
• Show the money you're going to pay. It's amazing how 15,000 dong magically turns in to either 150,000 dong, or $15 at the end of the transaction when it's time for you to pay
• If you sense something is going wrong (eg a trip taking longer than it should), stop and pay them off what was agreed
• Be familiar with the currency - don't allow them to snatch notes out of your hand
• Don't carry/flash too many big notes. Keep your big notes hidden, and have about the right amount of money prepared ahead of time
• Don't give money to people who say they're collecting for charity. They'll have a sheet with a whole lot of western names and large amounts of money against each one. Your guilty conscience will want to match them - but it's a scam
• Know the name of your hotel and ask to be taken straight to it. Have a card from your hotel if possible. Say you've already paid. Otherwise they'll tell you it's closed and will take you to a hotel where they get a commission
• If you get in to a difficult situation, you don't have many options but to pay up. If it's just a few dollars, put it down to experience and ensure it doesn't happen next time.

Now for a little salutory story from Will, a naive Sydney tourist who recounted this horror story while at our Sapa homestay (everyone has a scamming story to tell).

Will arrived in HCM and was walking down the road away from his hotel, map in hand, ready to see the sights. He was propositioned by a moto rider, who offered to take him round and drop him off at each of the sights on his map, while waiting for him to see each one. Will thought this was a great idea, and after half a day the two were getting on like a house on fire. Best mates.

Then the moto rider suggested Will take a boat trip on the Mekong River to see the sights. "Why not?", Will thought, and off they went on a rickety little boat away from civilisation out in to the middle of the river. The mood changed rather suddenly at this point. "Now you pay", said the moto rider. "Let's settle up back at the hotel", said Will. "No - pay now" said the moto rider. "1,500,000 dong".

So what do you do? Stuck in the middle of the Mekong you pay up, or risk being found floating in the river a few days later. Will (and all of us listening) are a lot wiser now - and we all agreed he did the right thing in the end.

But don't let this put you off, Robert. You'll have a great time - just be wary about people who offer goods and services, and be on your guard.

... 1967, 1968, 1969 islands!

Yup - that's the number of islands in Halong Bay, though I didn't quite count them all. Now let me tell you how I got there.

The night sleeper from Lau Cai back down to Hanoi was abysmal. While the uphill train to Sapa trundles on uneventfully, the downhill train stops at a siding every hour or so to let other trains through - so your body is instantly galvanised into action to get off at the Hanoi station, only to find it's still 1am. To make the trip worse, my traveling companions were three Vietnamese who left their cell phones on. Not only was there a steady beep-beep of txt messages through the night, but four calls came through between 3 and 4am, each one consisting of five minutes of animated conversation!

But the clincher. Diligent readers may recall a little bladder problem I had a few nights ago. Well - I was determined not to let my bladder get the better of me again. Noting the train arrived at Hanoi around 5.30am, my body clock kindly woke me at 5am. Great. I struggle down off the top bunk (trying not to wake the soundly sleeping Vietnamese of course) and make my way to the loo. Locked! I wait a few minutes. No one comes out. A guard wanders past - No No No - No toilet - shit on tracks - in station now. Yup - the train was early and had just pulled in to the Hanoi station. With no holding tanks, the toilets were closed to prevent their contents being deposited in steaming piles adjacent to the platform.

No worries - I get off the train and head for the station toilets. After all - this is the big Hanoi railway station handling lots of tourists where surely the facilities must be clean and western.

After 10 minutes of aimlessly wandering the station a guard points me to a concrete bunker in the shape of a pair of portaloos at the far end of the station. With WC written in grubby letters on the side. Does anyone recall Billy Connolly describing going to the public loos in the arse-end of Glasgow? Something like swimming across the piss-lake to get to the bog? Well you're starting to get the idea. It's before dawn, there are no lights inside. By gingerly splashing with my feet I detect this is a squat toilet and the hole is somewhere down there. I aim at it, and mostly hit it. What doesn't adds to the lake.

Feeling absolutely filthy, I back out (wearing my pack), to be confronted by a tout asking for money to use the loo! I tell him to f*** off and stomp away. My mood is not good.

But now the story improves. I've arranged to meet up with Richard and Jenny for breakfast at Jaspas - a western style restaurant in the Hanoi Towers a 10 minute walk from the station. I wash, very thoroughly, in a clean restroom and sit down for an extended chat. Great stuff - we've swapped email addresses in case I ever get to Dubai (unlikely), or they get to NZ (likely - Jenny worked in Napier for a while and wants to show new hubby around her favourite haunts).

Saying goodbye, I hike on up to Kangaroo Cafe where I meet up with a new group heading off on the 8am bus to Halong Bay. After an uneventful trip we stop for lunch before boarding the boat - a 16-sleeper tourist junk. I meet up with my room mate, Paul, a lawyer from Melbourne - the only other single. Most are couples, but there are a couple of guys traveling together, and a mother/daughter pair.

Halong Bay is simply stunning. Imagine the Bay of Islands, but with 1969 limestone and schist islands rising spectacularly into the sky, with the characteristic Vietnam haze causing each to have a slightly different hue as it recedes into the distance. And imagine dozens of junks just like ours, all fighting and jostling for space too! This place is crowded.

Anyway, some photos might help.



The prow of our boat, the Bai Tu Long, overseeing some of its companions.



Heading out into the bay.



Stunning. Sitting on the top deck, beer in hand, watching this incredible view unfold.




Bumper boats at the cave. The Vietnamese have no concept of queuing. Our boat muscled in to the others tied up at the wharf, ripping a bumper tire off one of them. When it could go no further, we clambered off our boat, onto another, then on to the wharf.

The cave is interesting, but no great shakes. "What's that?", said our guide, pointing to a large phallic stalagmite. "A finger of course", he chortled.



Dusk falls over the bay as we look forward to dinner and the evening's entertainment on the boat.

Where's everyone gone? After dinner half the group disappear, and the rest of us wait for the crew to start the party games. Nothing. We spot the big karaoke machine in the corner, and ask the crew if we can put on some music. Rummaging through the CDs we find only Vietnamese music. Believe me - this stuff is awful! Finally we find a genuine karaoke disc and figure out the remote control. I am determined not to sing - anyone who knows me will understand why. Julianna is first up - she does a pretty good rendition of a Shania Twain number. Her partner Nathan chooses a slow Elvis song because, like me, he can't sing. A couple more beers go down.

In a bizarre twist of fate, the menu pointer lands on Steppenwolf's Born To Be Wild! I can't believe it - a day earlier I'd been cruising Sapa on my Honda scooter with this tune running through my head. I grab the microphone and the group is entertained (?) by my rendition, and to tell you the honest truth, it wasn't half bad! This is the alcohol talking here...



The following morning saw me working off the indulgences of the night before. The camouflage hat I finally found at the $2 shop is working particularly well.




Admiring the stunning scenery from (on?) the top deck.

So now I have another hour to kill before the 9.15pm water puppet show, then it's on the night train down to Hue. I hear the storm and floods are clearing down there, so may have lucked out on the weather. No idea what the Internet's like though, so next post may be a week away. Keep well!

Sapa images

Ah - the joy of fast Internet now I'm back in Hanoi. In no particular order...



A goat spotted on the big trek.



These terraced rice fields are amazing. The rice has been harvested now and the stubble is slashed and burned, with the ash fertilising the crop to be planted in Spring (it's just coming in to Winter here now, not that you'd know it!).




H'Mong mother & cutie



The view from the restaurant at the Cat Cat Hotel




And from my balcony...




As opposed to Hanoi environs, the Sapa rice terraces are flooded, but nothing much grows this time of year.



Our guide Yem giving Jivan a neck massage at the homestay




Dao villagers on the trek.