Vientiane to Vietnam

Ok, another update. This describes our first week in Vietnam after arriving in Hanoi from Vientiane, Laos. We went to Ha Long Bay and are now in Sapa, north west of Hanoi.

Back in Vientiane

After returning from Vang Vieng, we spent one more night in Vientiane before taking the overnight bus to Hanoi. This wait was not all bad. In fact, it let us experience the daytime festivities of Lao New Year: Lao people running around with water guns, buckets, and water bombs with the goal of soaking everything and everyone—irrespective of whether they wore suits or carried babies.

Traditionally Lao people would wet Buddhas with coloured water, but now the focus is people. Many drive around on the backs of utes as “elite hit squads” with water held in plastic swimming pools drenching unsuspecting pedestrians. Others man permanent “bases” that guard “key infrastructure” such as minimarts and street corners, and are supported by hoses.

All in all, people were happy, but wet. Tourists joined in and soaked up the enthusiasm exuded by the locals.

Entry into Vietnam

After drying off, we joined our overnight sleeper bus to Hanoi. Like a high-tech dorm room on wheels, this Vietnamese bus had three rows of bunk beds, TV screens, a toilet that flushed automatically, and multi-coloured lights that turned on and off seemingly at random. Bedding was supplied and there were numerous stops along the way.

The bus was full: about 10 foreigners and 20 Vietnamese / Lao. We got our beds early, but others were not so lucky. One Vietnamese man was forced to sleep on the floor, while another was forced to sleep on a shelf between Claire and me. There were arguments with the bus driver and a lot of confusion, but finally we left.

Now, you might think that a bus intending to cross a border would get there when it was open. Not our bus. Instead, we arrived at the Laos-Vietnam border at 1 am and waited until 7 am when it opened. Not only does this waste six hours of valuable travel time, but it also means that there is a build up of tourist buses and lorries at the border.

Thankfully the border crossing was simple. There was an oversupply of Vietnamese officials in green hats with red trim, but they were friendly. It took some time for our bus to clear quarantine as it was laden with boxes and other mysterious packages and the officials were diligent. Naturally, we had to pay bribes or ‘stamp fees’ to cross the border—10,000 dong on the Lao side and US$1 on the Vietnamese side.

After about an hour we were on the road again; this time enjoying the Vietnamese scenery of rice paddies, mountain ranges separated by cascading rivers, and small towns and villages. The ubiquitous red with yellow-starred Vietnamese flag flew from most buildings and there were many motorbikes.

At hour 24 we arrived in Hanoi at night.

Hanoi

Staying two nights, we spent one day exploring Hanoi’s Old Quarter before heading to Ha Long Bay.

What a buzz. Hanoi is full of motorbikes that beep out of habit if not to warn of their impending approach. Road rules are flexible, but accidents seem rare—the system works. There are lights, many small lakes, and locals playing badminton and practising tai chi.

The Old Quarter is easy to navigate on foot—although manoeuvring around motorbikes parked on the nicely paved footpaths was a bit of an art. The crowded streets are lined with shops selling all sorts, from counterfeit money and clothing, to hand-carved gravestones and herbs, to squirming fish and chunky frogs. Blacksmiths, jewellers, and artisans each have their own corners, while hawkers offer pineapples and deep-fried rice.

There are also interesting historical sites, such as the Ngoc Son Temple, the Huc Bridge, Martyrs’ Monument, and the Old East Gate.

The next day we set off to Ha Long Bay as part of a two day tour with AST Travel.

Ha Long Bay

Another UNESCO World Heritage Site, Ha Long Bay consists of almost 2000 limestone islands that jut out of the sea at impossible angles. Popular with tourists, the bay is known as the bay of descending dragons.

Our tour of the bay was on an imitation wooden Chinese junk designed for tourists. Slow and comfortable, it was like a three-storied floating hotel complete with a sun deck and TV. We slept and ate deep-fried Vietnamese food on the junk. At other times we jumped from the top of the junk into the semi-polluted water that separates the islands.

Our itinerary around the bay included a magical “Heaven Palace” cave filled with artificially-coloured lights and a short kayak trip. Unfortunately our itinerary wasn’t unique as there were over 200 other junks offering similar experiences—each stopping at the same time for lunch, anchoring at the same spot for night, and visiting the same attractions.

After day two, the tour ended in Hanoi where we waited for a 10-hour overnight train to Lao Cai—the gateway to the hill town of Sapa in north west Vietnam.

Sapa

A place for trekking and exploring hill tribe villages, Sapa was a popular holiday spot for the French during their occupation of Vietnam. This history is prevalent everywhere. French-styled buildings, parks, and lakes separate the narrow winding streets. Bakeries offer baguettes and cakes and cafes house a collection of French and Vietnamese wines.

Tourism is everywhere too. Shops sell tours and North Face outdoor gear. Numerous hotels hog spectacular views of the surrounding mountains and rice-paddy-filled valleys. Female villagers hawk silver and hand-woven trinkets of various colours and patterns, while male motorbike riders offer trips to tired walkers.

We arrived early yesterday in this quaint little town from Lao Cai. We spent the day exploring the streets and visiting a nearby Hmong—pronounced mong—village with its small huts separated by terraced rice paddies, bamboo, and mountain streams. The villages smiled and were unconcerned by our presence. I even got to swim with the local Hmong kids.

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Well, that brings us up to date. We have one more day in Sapa. Tonight we take an overnight train back to Hanoi and then another to Da Nang, near Hoi An.

xxx

Laos

As usual the posts have been infrequent; blogging is a surprisingly time consuming process. We are now in Vietnam but haven’t told you anything about Laos so below I have attempted condense pretty much our whole time there. Happy reading.

Luang Prabang and the police

Luang Prabang (LP) is a UNESCO world heritage city like Meleka and Georgetown in Malaysia; this basically means that it has exceptionally pretty main streets—which have been restored—and a lot of tourist-focussed infrastructure. Making it a pleasant place to spend a few days.

Our first mission, however, was to obtain a police report for the missing Kindle. The police man and our friendly interpreter in Pak Beng had been exceptionally pleasant if somewhat unhelpful in not issuing us a report simply because it was Sunday. I had, however, convinced them to write a letter in Laos—the language—for us to take to the LP police station to explain the situation.

Plain sailing one might think; and to begin with it was. The young policeman who took the statement was friendly and spoke fairly good English. His older colleague—who read the letter from the Pakbeng police officer—seemed less friendly. But I figured he probably spoke less English. So the report was made and the appropriate form completed. I was quietly happy with how smoothly everything had gone.

But then: “you pay 30,000 kip” the older policeman said. “No” I replied “we don’t”. Although 30,000 kip is a pretty small amount of money—less than $5—paying for a police report is not the usually course of events; and this was clearly a “stamp fee” going straight into his pocket.

Things deteriorated from there. I got angry, which of course didn’t help. Eli tried reason and logic—which seemed to make headway with the younger guy, but the older guy was having none of it. In the end we paid—or rather Eli paid and I sat outside in protest. At least we got a receipt—we are not sure whether the insurance company will cover this bit..

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While I know this sort of thing happens all too often in this part of the world, I was still mad. Of course by western standards these guys are not well paid. But by Lao standards they certainly looked well fed. Also, LP is a tourist town and these guys are the tourist police; so they know that if a tourist looses something they need a police report. Meaning that tourists have no choice but to pay—creating a nice little earner for the police.

After our run in with the police, we determinedly set of to enjoy the rest of what LP had to offer. We wandered the quaint streets along the river banks and climbed to the temple atop the hill to watch the sunset. Unfortunately this time of year is slash and burn season when the farmers burn off their rice paddies and clear new land for farming. This meant that the sunset was obstructed by smoke haze—the view was worth the walk though.

The next day we headed to ....waterfall just out of LP and spent the afternoon swimming in the cool refreshing pools and enjoying the picture perfect scenery.

After quiet a lot of tooing and froing over the rest of our plan for Laos, we decided to head directly to the capital Vientiane and take our next steps from there.

We got up early on the morning we left to watch the ritual of alms giving. This is when the the local Buddhist monks walk the streets collecting donations of food from the local members of their congregation. This is the monks’ only source of food for the day and by donating the people receive spiritual benefit.

Vientiane

The bus trip from LP to Vientienne was 9 hours. The roads in Laos are very poor and the area is quiet mountainous. It was a tortuously slow journey—especially surrounded by many locals suffering from motion sickness.

We started our first morning in Vientiane with our usual informal walking tour. We find it a great way to get the lay of the land in a new city. Often we come across interesting things we wouldn’t otherwise discover. We also you get a sense of what the touts and street sellers have to offer—because they pop up every few metres.

This walking tour included the unintentionally comedic—but also quite informative—National Museum. I say ‘unintentionally comedic’ because the exhibition about America’s involvement in the Indochina (Vietnamese) war and the information on the roles of the various government departments, are a series of photos with propaganda captions. The quote “the US imperialists and their puppets” features regularly. As does the title “heroic leader” under pictures of the various communist party members. The exhibition on the early Lao history and the travelling exhibition on life along the Mekong were vastly better.

For our last day in Vientiane we hired bikes and biked to the Pha That Luang—supposedly Laos’ most sacred sight. But, to be perfectly honest, it was fairly underwhelming. It was restored using gold coloured paint. From a distance it looks quite impressive, but up close it’s obviously quite an amateur job. To be fair, we have seen an inordinate number of temples in recent time and may be suffering from NAFT syndrome—Not Another F****ing Temple.

We decided—with some trepidation—to head to Vang Vieng: home of the infamous (for its drunken debauchery) tubing. Thinking we were probably too old and out of drinking practice, we decided to see if we could re-live some of our former (in)glorious student days. In the end it didn’t matter—I got sick and tubing with a stomach bug seemed like a very unwise decision.

Before I got sick, however, we biked west of Vang Vieng in search of an emerald pool and cave system. The roads were bumpy and it was hot. We passed through villages and dodged motorbikes as we navigated the limestone cliffs, similar to those around Krabi, Thailand. The pool was cool and popular with other tourists—with rope swings and rocks to jump off. Eli climbed up to the cave opening, reporting back that it was cool and large and contained a small golden Buddha temple.

After two days recovering in Vang Vieng, we headed back to Vientiane for our 24 hour bus journey to Hanoi, Vietnam.

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Tonight we head to Sapa, North Vietnam on the sleeper train. Hopefully trains here are as good as Thailand

Love to everyone, please keep the emails and comments coming they really brighten our day

xxx

Border crossing into Laos and slowboat down the Mekong

Our posts are coming thick and fast now. This post describes our entry into Laos at Huay Xai and our trip down the Mekong River.

Crossing the border into Laos

Our entry into Loas was painless. We expected long queues, but there were none. The public bus from Chiang Rai to Chiang Kong on the Thai side of the border was unencumbered; while passing through Thai immigration, crossing the Mekong River to Huay Xai, and clearing Lao immigration was efficient. There were no hassles.

Huay Xai is a quiet border town resting, as suggested above, on the Lao side of the Mekong River. It shows its French history by offering baguettes with over 15 filling options and French inspired buildings. It shows its Buddhist history by maintaining golden temples in strategic positions. The main street is dusty and home to stray dogs that bark all night. But the people are friendly enough and the guesthouses clean.

Tourists do not stay long in Huay Xai because it lacks attractions. Instead they use it as a base for taking the slow boat down the Mekong River—as we did after staying the night.

Slowboat down the Mekong River

Touted as one of Laos’ main attractions and popular because many of the roads are so bad; the slowboat showcases life on the Mekong. Fortunately, our route through Laos went the same way: from Huay Xai in the north west to Luang Prabang further south. The journey took two days, stopping overnight in Pak Beng.

Although colourful, the slowboats lack design features. They are long and square and look like floating one-story wooden buildings filled with old car seats and a small, but well-used herb garden at the front. There are hidden compartments in the floor to store bags and other goodies and a toilet at the back next to the engine room. The boats hold about 100 people with a bar stool at the front for the captain.

The dock at Huay Xai was a funny sight. Our boat was jammed between about 20 other slowboats all jostling for space along the Mekong’s muddy banks. Access was via a wooden, unfastened plank that wobbled noticeably. We arrived early to ensure we got a good seat—although we needn’t have bothered as it was the low (tourist) season.

Departure was a challenge. Squeezing out from the jam consisted of men placing tree branches between the boat roofs and shouting a lot as they clambered around trying to free our boat. We got stuck once, forcing the boat to reverse—it seemed like this was their first time or perhaps this was a particularly tight boat jam. But either way, after some loud creaking and crunching of wood, we were off.

The trip was impressive with time drifting effortlessly away. The slow meander of the boat led from mountain gorges to forested plains, past villages and sapphire mines. Kids jumped off rocks into the river or raced down its banks to sell local wares. Fisherman put out nets while water buffalo and other animals drank. Crops were being replanted and riverbanks turned from sand dunes to grass slopes.

When the scenery was not enough, we read, napped and watched movies. Others on the boat drank Beer Lao—which made the locals happy as they charged well above market rates.

Occasionally we stopped to pick up locals. Now this was no mean feat for a floating building that was not designed to turn. It involved: stopping the boat well before the pickup point; turning the boat sideways so that the current would push it into position; then crashing the front into the river bank, hoping that someone would stop it just in time. We repeated this about eight times during the two days—and although the boat looked full every time, there was always enough room for more people.

There were other river users too—most notably, the fast boats that make the same journey in half the time, but at some risk. Passengers must wear helmets because these small long boats go so fast that the divers sometimes fail to see hidden rocks and debris. Many deaths have occurred over the years. (Fortunately, for those parents at home, we understood these risks so opted for the safer slower option.)

Our stopover at Pak Beng was pleasant; although early the next day we realised that Claire’s Kindle—electronic book reader—was gone. Lost or stolen, on or off the boat, we don’t know. But we do know that the Pak Beng police cannot issue reports on Sundays and speak only basic English. So we had to save our grievance for the Luang Prabang tourist police (see our next post).

After two long days and a lost Kindle, we arrived in Luang Prabang in early evening.

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Our next post will describe our time in Luang Prabang and Vientiane. We are now in Vang Vieng.

xxx

Chiang Rai

Hi all

We arrived in Vientiane this evening on the bus from Lauang Prabang. As usual our posts are lagging somewhat behind; so heres the post for Chiang Rai, Thailand:

Chiang Rai

The Green Bus to Chiang Rai was no ordinary bus.  This was in fact a first class bus, including a hostess with the mostest serving drinks, nibbles, and wet wipes.  The bus left on time and arrived early— almost unheard of in South East Asia.  It had tags for our bags and seats that reclined substantially further than any other bus we had been on in Thailand.  Sitting across the aisle from us on this “bus nirvana” were Rob and Tina from Dorset, England who become our travel companions for the next few days.

The next day we set off on a bit of an informal walking tour of the city with Rob and Tina; getting our bearings and figuring out a bit of a plan for the next few days.  We booked a trip to the Akha Hill House—which is a guesthouse run by some Akha Hilltribe people in one of their villages not far from Chiang Rai.

The next day our ride to the Akha Hill House didn’t leave until the afternoon so we had time to take what Rob and Tina dubbed as an “Eli tour”.  An Eli tour involves taking the cheapest form of local public transport you can find to the site of interest on this less than a dollar per person each way.  If you’re lucky, either Eli or I have read the appropriate section of the guide book and can remember all sorts of interesting facts about said site.

This Eli tour was to Wat, Rong Khun, The White Temple.  Another temple?  Yawn you might think.  But no; the white temple is nothing like any other temple you might see in Asia.  Firstly, construction only began in 1997 and the designer / architect is an eccentric Thai modern artist called Ajarn Chalermchai Kositpipat.  He does not expect it to be finished until at least 50 years after his death

The interior of the main temple building is covered with a huge mural which depicts—among many contemporary allusions—George W Bush and Osama Bin Laden as the eyes of the demon. As the name suggests all the buildings at the temple are white.  Except for the toilets which are housed in a gold building and apparently are “the most beautiful toilets”.  Of course, we tried them out and they are certainly a lot nicer than many toilets we have come across.                      

That afternoon we headed up the hill to the Akha Hill House in our complimentary transport—the back of a ute, complete with worn-out gearbox and stock cage.  While not the most salubrious accommodation, the Hill House was adequate and we joined a great group of fellow travellers for dinner and Beer Chang around the camp fire.

The next day a group of eight of us set off for a walk around the surrounding countryside accompanied by two Akha guides.  

The Akha people—like many of the hill tribes in Northern Thailand—are originally from southern China and made their way to Thailand over several hundred years via Myanmar and Laos.  They have moved around for several reasons: one, because they practice a style of farming where they intensively farm a piece of land and then move on; and two, due to persecution and war, particularly in Myanmar.

During our trek we learnt that the Akha people make extensive use of the bamboo that grows around where they live.  Our guides made short work of fashioning cups and chopsticks using their machetes.  When it was our turn we quickly realised it was not as easy as they made it look; although Eli managed to fashion something resembling a cup and I managed a pair of chopsticks without losing any limbs.

The next day it was back down the hill on the back of the ute and off to the bus station to head for the Laos border.

Love to all, hope your checking out the photos we will try to add more tomorrow

xxxx

Bangkok and Chiang Mai

We have just made it to Luang Prabang in Laos after a two day slow boat trip down the Mekong River.

Some of you have asked whether we were affected by the recent floods in southern Thailand. We were not. But saw the devastation on the news. Very sad.

This post tells of happier times: of our travels through Bangkok and Chiang Mai.

Bangkok Continued

Claire here.

When we last left you we were in Bangkok whiling away the weekend waiting for the Vietnamese embassy to open.

First thing Monday morning we grabbed a cab and headed for the embassy. As the taxi took off, the driver turned on a small TV on his dash board and tuned it to an English language news station. That’s nice I thought; he knows that the traffic will be bad so he’s given us some entertainment. A few minutes later the traffic wasn’t actually that terrible and we were cruising along pretty steadily when the driver changes the TV station to a Thai station. Hmm I thought. Does he think we speak Thai? Or maybe there’s something he wants to watch? But he’s driving in Bangkok traffic (ie chaos). I stopped thinking then. Sometimes in Southeast Asia it pays not to think; it reduces the potential need for anti anxiety medication.

We made it to the Vietnamese embassy safely. I always get quite anxious about these official types of processes; the fact that the whole process is completely out of my control is not my happy place. The whole process was—as we have so far found these types of processes to be—surprisingly smooth. We filled in the form, gave the embassy staff our passports and money, and were told to come back on Thursday.

That evening Rama and Leah rejoined us following their sojourn to Ko Phanang for the full moon party; we started planning for their last day in Thailand.

First up the next morning was the grand palace—the residence of King Rama IX of Thailand and home to some of the most elaborate temples around. We followed this cultural experience with lunch in Chinatown and shopping at MBK—the place to go for cheap knockoffs. Rama (not the king) went for his final suit fitting.

The following morning we were woken early by a massive thunder storm and torrential rain. We saw Leah and Rama off to the airport and headed back to our room to escape the weather. We spent most of the day inside. It was actually quite nice to have a break from sightseeing and traipsing around the city.

Thursday we picked up our visas and jumped on the sleeper train to Chiang Mai. Sleeper trains in Thailand are an experience not to be missed. The seats are wide and soft and the floor is clean. You order your dinner at the start of the journey and it is bought to your seat. Although we latter learned that there were two menus—one for Thai people and another more expensive menu for foreigners. A little while later the carriage attendant comes around and converts the seats into bunks which he then makes up with crisp clean white linen. So we closed our eyes, went to sleep, and woke up in Chiang Mai.

Chiang Mai

Eli here.

After the intensity of Bangkok, Chiang Mai was a welcome relief. This laid back city of about 1.5 million people has plenty of cheap guesthouses, funky cafes and bars, and ladies offering massages. Tourists are present, but not overwhelmingly so. There is a night market and Saturday and Sunday street markets full of paintings, hill tribe trinkets, and lightshades. There are also an inordinate number of temples.

Arriving early on the train, we quickly found ourselves a cheap guest house with free WiFi and warm water. We spent the rest of the day walking around the old part of the city.

Our walk took us into some impressive temples with mosaics and high arches that reveal giant golden Buddhas with varying expressions. Locals pray and monks bless. Tourists poke their noses in for a look, but often fail to show respect by removing shoes, wearing long pants, covering shoulders, and restraining from taking pictures of monks without permission.

But we were not those disrespecting tourists. Rather, we were the tourists that had seen too many temples in too many places. Is there such a thing? Yes. Temple after temple. Buddha after Buddha. After a while they begin to blur into one and their importance begins to lose meaning. This is a hidden form of disrespect that is equally troubling to me. To overcome this problem, I now believe limiting temple viewings to two a day and five a week.

On the bright side, each temple is different. A little lady sat outside one temple offering—for a fee—to release little birds from a cage as a type of blessing. The funny part is that these birds were tame. So once the unsuspecting tourist left, the birds were caught again for the next to release.

Our walk also took us to a woman’s prison. Vocational training for inmates is a socially responsible activity, but would you take a Thai massage from an inmate? We did and enjoyed it. Legs twisted unnaturally, bones cracked, muscles prodded, and tendons pulled. At times I questioned the wisdom of getting a massage, but made sure not to show any weakness by letting out a groan—something I considered unmanly. I questioned it further when things got intimate; especially when the masseuse’s hands and feet pressed against my inner thigh and repeated movements were made. The massage ended after an hour when herbal tea was served. We both felt relaxed.

That night we ate at the night bazaar and listened to live music, which although familiar was distinctly Thai. The base guitarist was the lead singer and the lead guitarist thought he was, but wasn’t.

The next day we took a songtheaw to another temple, Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. This one was worth it, although I had been before. Located on top of Suthep hill, the temple has stunning views of Chiang Mai province and is adorned by a central copper-plated chedi topped by a five-tiered gold umbrella. But outside the temple is where the action is: boys practice hitting drums in some sort of order, as others—some as young as five—struggle to stay focused; girls dressed in traditional hill tribe outfits dance rhythmically to cosmic music.

Our only gripe were the young kids on the steps up to the temple that were forced by their mothers to dress in hill tribe outfits and beg for money. Surely there must be a better way for these families to earn a living while keeping their kids in school.

Later we took a stroll around the Saturday night market in the rain, picking up a chocolate waffle for our troubles.

On our final full day in Chiang Mai we went cooking. We both love Thai food and, although Claire is the better cook, I have no qualms giving it a go. We made seven dishes each from curries, noodles, and stirfrys to spring roles, sticky rice, spicy papaya salad, and deep-fried banana. Mistakes were made and bananas burnt, but we had fun and ate plenty.

The Sunday night market lived up to its reputation. Streets lined with local stalls filled with everything at discounted prices. People were everywhere, which was tricky enough. But we decided to make it extra challenging by going against the flow, bashing into Thai ladies out for a shop and tourists ticking off another activity listed in the Lonely Planet guidebook.

After a few fun filled days, we set off to Chiang Rai on a Green bus, but that is another story.

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Well, that’s where we stand. Love to all,

xxx