travel day – Page 3 – three pairs of pants

16 November 201526 January 2018

Day 63 (Mon 16 Nov): Hanoi to Vientiane

So long, Vietnam. And thanks for all the fish. And the dogs, ducks, water buffalo, spiders, jelly fish, goats, cats, and caterpillars…

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Vietnam – on the contrary, it’s provided some of my trip’s highlights – but it was tiring. So difficult to get under the surface. They’ve decided what the tourist experience will be and that’s what you get, although I suspect knowing the language would open up much more. But the people were friendly and welcoming, and I felt safe despite all the horror stories. I wonder whether when those bad things happened, they felt more intense because it’s so out of character for the place. But if I fell asleep on the train with my bag in front of me, I reckon there’d be more chance of it being there when I woke up than if I was in London…

The Vietnamese were more street-savvy than the Cambodians, which maybe added to the sense that, despite them being very smiley and helpful, they’d put a barrier up. Rigid processes were not to be broken and, whilst it’s true the world over that putting someone in a uniform increases their sense of importance, it was marked in Vietnam. Not arrogance, but a “you can’t touch me” attitude.

Traffic in Hanoi (or “Ha Noise” as my two-year-old nephew rather insightfully called it) was loud, but wasn’t as chaotic as I was expecting. Maybe all the stories I’d heard had raised my expectations, maybe I was already used to the bustle which had gradually increased since I hit Siem Reap, maybe my central London baseline was higher than most people’s. Whilst it was loud, it wasn’t aggressive*. And they didn’t drive very fast – not even 30mph – in the cities. The only time I went above 60kph was when I asked the mini-van driver to detour off Highway 1 on the way to Da Nang. Other than that, it was all very civilised.

* For those who know what I’m talking about: taxi horns, etc are a major third, repeated with a diminuendo – it attracts attention but in a non-confrontational way (as opposed to the augmented fourths of the large lorries, which obviously justify a little more urgency).

Can I be honest? I’m getting a little tired of travelling. By that I mean that the constant planning and moving on is very effortful and not relaxing. I worked out that not only have I been moving on quite quickly (Hoi An was my longest stop in Vietnam at four nights, and one of those was in a dive), but the distances involved means that although the journeys are more comfortable than Cambodia, they’re also a lot longer. And on Monday morning, I was regretting booking the early flight from Hanoi, as it meant a 5am start (which actually sounds worse than it is because Asia gets up early anyway and my body clock has adjusted accordingly. I actually rather like it).

And what’s the point of what I’m doing? Fundamentally, it’s to enjoy myself. So I decided that I’d take it easier – and that’s part of the reason I decided to fly straight into Vientiane (central Laos) rather than Pakse (south) – less travelling. It was also because the flight to Pakse was very expensive and stopped in Vientiane anyway 😉

At the airport: universal icons for the correct usage of the drinking water sink:

But not sure what they were trying to communicate with this one (in the aeroplane):

Visa on arrival was relatively painless but time-consuming. One of those things that we’ll tell our grandchildren about and they’ll be confused as to why we needed paper passports and visas. And we’ll refer to it as “the olden days”. Much easier just to do a digital body scan as you walk through and be done with it. Even without that technology (which, of course, has major privacy implications among other things), I can’t help but feel that it’s an area just waiting to be made more efficient…

I like Laos. Yes, I know it’s early days but I just know. It’s not any one thing in particular, but a general sense. For instance, getting a taxi from the airport was blissfully easy: the prices are fixed ($7); you buy a ticket from the information desk and the next driver in the queue picks you up and takes you straight to your accommodation. No scrum, no haggling, no stress 🙂

My taxi driver was really friendly and spoke reasonable English (most on this trip have been limited to only those words required to do their jobs). He kindly taught me the key traveller words (thank you, hello, goodbye, how much? Expensive, Do you have? Numbers 1-10, etc). The language seems much more accessible than Vietnamese (although I believe it’s still tonal). Half an hour later, sat in my room I could physically feel a reduction in stress. I guess I’d been aware of its constant background presence in Vietnam but now that it’s suddenly gone, I’ve realised how much it was affecting me. Not being able to do my own thing like I’d been able to do in Cambodia, always on the tourist trail, the constant pressure to part with my time and my money.

Sat in a street cafe (which, you’ll know by now, really is the only way to eat in Asia) watching the traffic outside, I suddenly became aware of what was missing – horns. Relative silence, by all accounts. Quite a few pick up trucks, which I haven’t seen elsewhere, along with the obligatory scooters and cars. But gone was the constant cacophony of beeps that had accompanied me through Vietnam. Looking up it could have been Vietnam but it was quieter, much quieter. The manic bustle had been replaced by a laidbackness that was almost tangible.

And, as I’d travelled south, the heat was back. All thirty degrees of it.

A notice on this cafe seemed to sum up the place:

With a whole late afternoon and evening to explore the place, I figured that getting an early flight wasn’t so bad after all. I wandered. And this is what I found…

Temple locked, but moth open for photographic opportunity:

I took out $250 from an ATM and was presented with a massive wodge of notes. Paper notes. No more plastic ones, which is a shame as they’re very practical.

Laotian written script (called “abugida”, or “alphasyllabary” which is a segmental writing system where consonant-vowel sequences are written as a unit) means back to the beautiful, but utterly bewildering, patterns, like Cambodian:

Another outdoor gym:

With additional mobility workout instructions on lamppost (basic mobility seems part of the Asian workout – get up early and there’ll be all ages (actually, now that I think about it, it’s mostly the older generation) swinging their arms, etc):

No cars on the road near the river, which had been pedestrianised and was very undeveloped for the main coastal road of a capital city:

Wandering through the night market:

… it struck me that the clothes were small. Nay, tiny. Good job I don’t need anything as there’s no way I’d fit into any of the clothes they were selling.

And, best of all, there was no hassling. Nothing. Nada. I knew I was going to like this place 🙂

14 November 201526 January 2018

Day 61 (Sat 14 Nov): Homestay to Lao Cai (trekking, sleeper train)

Slept really well. And then a leisurely morning and pancake breakfast before we set off again.

Two of the group had departed the previous evening, and then Andrin and Jessica joined us. They fitted into the group perfectly and were really great company.

This is Mao’s home:

And we walked. We kept stopping for photos:

The views were not only breathtaking, but vast and all around us:

More rice fields:

An out-of-focus caterpillar:

The path ahead:

And behind:

More ridiculously pictureseque images:

Jane (Mao’s sister) and I – another European giant moment:

And these three:

We try to say hello when we pass locals. Seeing these made me wonder what they make of us. At that age, they’ll have no context. Will they ever? We’ll just become a natural part of their lives – tourists walking past their houses, saying hello.

Yesterday, I mentioned the leaves outside a house means visitors are not welcome. And we came across this today:

Jane explained that it was often to do with health – when somone was sick, and the hospital couldn’t help, the local shaman was called for and these leaves put outside to warn others not to enter.

Westerners pronouced Sapa with the accent on the first syllable. Vietnamese just have words. In fact, it’s “Sa Pa” here – and both syllables are given equal weighting. Just noticed the slight difference in pronounciation.

Ducks:

Jane leading the way, whislt she was also winding hemp for making into clothes (they make new ones each year – I don’t think they have many, so they’ll get worn out quickly):

Tiago showed me how to take a proper panoramic pic:

And I finally got a butterfly, but it’s a little ‘un:

Manual cutting (using a machine) of potato to dry and use as animal feed during the winter. Such intensive work:

Wasps (out of focus again – I really should get some photography lessons. And a decent camera):

And all too soon we were stopping for a very late lunch. From there, it was a short trek to our final stop where three of us were picked up and taken back to Sapa, and then Lao Cai, to catch the night train home.

Such a brilliant experience. I thoroughly enjoyed my two days – my foot held up well, the views were breath-taking and the group were great. Another highlight of my trip 🙂

12 November 201526 January 2018

Day 59 (Thu 12 Nov): Bai Tu Long Bay to Hanoi to Lao Cai (cave, sleeper train)

… And the by-now-obligatory sunrise photo (which, if you look, very closely resembles one of the sunset shots from last night, but a different quality of light):

Our final stop before returning to port (nooooo!) was a natural cave:

It’s not the biggest and doesn’t have lots of rocks that look like animals (with various degrees of imagination), but it also wasn’t overrun with tourists, so I enjoyed it a lot. And the views were great, too:

It was whilst I was sorting stuff to check out that I noticed the remote control… for the toilet:

Another toilet specimen to add to my trip’s collection 🙂

Lunch was at 10:30am.

Very early, but we weren’t due back to Hanoi until 5pm. And then it occurred to me that the staff serve four meals every day because they do two lunches: one for the out-going lot, and another for the incoming bunch.

An amazing trip – spectacular scenery, lots of fun, great company and luxury accommodation. My only wish was that we’d had more time to just be. Having lots of activities was good, but I’d have liked to just sit on deck or in my cabin and watch the world (specifically the limestone karsts) go by:

If there’s something on, you’d feel like you were missing out, but we don’t need to be entertained every minute of the day. Overall, though, a great trip.

Returning to port meant returning to Wi-Fi, and finding out that the sleeper train I’d booked wasn’t available. With live availability and payment upfront I’d assumed that it meant it was booked, but it actually meant that my request had been submitted. And because I hadn’t been able to check my email, I hadn’t found out. So I ventured to Lily’s (again) when I arrived in Hanoi. I also showed her the homestay I’d chosen. She looked at me earnestly. “Touristy”, she said. Oh dear, really? The reviews didn’t indicate it, but she was right – it wasn’t that far out of Sapa. And anything with good TripAdvisor reviews would be busy, I knew. She suggested another. I trusted her judgement. Getting back to port had also meant getting back to the masses* – our toilet stop was at a tourist department store full of overpriced goods, with the bus helpfully dropping us at the back of the store and picking us up from the front:

Standing in the queue for the loo, a lady pushed past. I tapped her on the shoulder. Didn’t even need to say anything. She mumbled something and went to the back of the queue. I won’t even bother telling you what nationality she was – I’m sure you can guess.

* I should clarify that I’m not adverse to people. In fact, I’m very fond of quite a few of them (if you’ve been invited to read this, you’re one of them), but I don’t like big groups of people. I’m one of life’s natural introverts so find being around lots of people very tiring.

“Sleeper” train is a bit of a misnomer, as was “soft bed”. Slightly more give than concrete but there’s not much in it. Don’t Vietnamese people have hips and shoulders? Took ages to get to sleep – every position was uncomfortable, but I think it was mostly because the train was throwing me around. But I eventually fell asleep…

5 November 201526 January 2018

Day 53 (Fri 6 Nov): Hue to Da Nang to Hanoi (Hai Van pass)

I wanted to see the Hai Van pass. But my motorbike tour had gone via the mountains. I decided to change my plans and return to Da Nang. Time was saved by flying (1h) instead of the sleeper train (18h). Had I been able to talk to the locals, I’d have preferred to overland it, but spending so much time with “communication frustration” didn’t appeal.

And so we (just Evan, Lindsay and I so it was like a private tour) left Hanoi on Highway 1:

… stopping to admire the lagoon:

And the minor flooding. Their “just get on with it” attitude will be one of my abiding memories of this country:

I eventually took a picture of one of these (I’ve only gone past a couple of hundred already):

They’re “town gates” (this one with a shrine next to it) that mark the entrance/exit of villages (easy when you’ve only one route through).

Still hurtling (relatively speaking – I haven’t gone more than about 60kph so far) down Highway 1, seeing how close Da Nang was, I suddenly realised that they were going to take the direct, easy and quick route. When they reached Hoi An, their day was over, so there was an incentive to speed through. Didn’t want that – I’d taken a “private van” (and there were only three of us, so big result) instead of the tourist bus so I could see more on the way. That was the point of my trip, after all. I explained we’d like to see stuff. Khong co’ gi*. We took the scenic route:

The peninsula was a bizzare juxtaposition of remoteness and civilisation with an extensive, well-maintained road network.

Lang Co resort. Bland, empty… but with a great view:

… and an amazing pool – the biggest I’ve seen all trip. I miss swimming 🙁

Built by Minh Mang (I saw his tomb on my way into Hue), this hill station was used during war by American forces:

… a standard tourist stop (I’m getting used to these on organised tours), it came complete with the obligatory market stalls that follow tourists everywhere.

And, finally, the Hai Van pass, which was well worth the effort to see (especially as the rain kindly stopped for a couple of hours so we could enjoy it). Interestingly, they whizzed past the natural wonders:

And only stopped when we could see Da Nang:

Another example of them not really understanding what tourists want.

And they sped past the goats, which was a bit disappointing:

With an hour or so before check-in, and good reviews of the Cham Museum in Da Nang, I asked to be dropped there. Interestingly, Evan and Lindsay wanted to press on Hoi An. Funny how people travel all this way and don’t then do things that’ll only take an hour of their time. But what’s important is that you travel your way. Different people do it differently: some plan meticulously, some just do the touristy things and move on quickly, some linger, some aren’t interested in the history just taking the photos they can put on Facebook (most of the Chinese tourists fit into this category – and, for some strange reason, they always do the two-finger victory sign), some come all the way here and then eat western food every night and others like to absorb the country they’re in. What’s important is that you travel your way – and try not to suffer from FOMO (or “fear of missing out” = “What? You were there and didn’t do/go to/see <insert life-changing event/attraction>”?).

*Pronounced “Kawm con chi” (kind of), it means “no problem” and sums up the Vietnamese approach to life.

So far, information at most museums has been basic. The audio guide ($1) at the Cham Museum was superb – it went into detail (a common complaint is that most guides give you an anodised version), explained differences of opinion and was clear when “best guesses” had been made and why. “Simon Oliver Duncan’s” law that I only had an hour before I needed to head to the airport. But here’s what I absorbed:

Cham culture was contemporary with the Angkorian period in Campuchea (currently called Cambodia, but I think they must be due a name-change soon) so C4 – 13
As trade increased, influences from other cultures (Khmer, Chinese, Indian, Javan) were absorbed
Characterised by a fondness for ornate decoration
Sandstone was not a plentiful resource (unlike Khmer) so they had to use brick, which was more limiting artistically as it’s harder
the museum’s collection is from four different sites: some were removed from the original setting to thwart looters; unfortunately, the museum was bombed (notice a recurring theme of my posts from Vietnam?), so they started again
one of these sites was My Son, which I visited at the beginning of my motorbike tour from Hoi An; 71 structures were discovered here built by successive kings, starting in C4 with a wooden edifice (long since gone, of course); only 20 structures remain (yep, bombed – how did you guess?)
Sanskrit was used for religious writings, and the old Cham language to record civil matters

And now for some examples. You’ll recognise this, of course:

Yep, a Shiva Linga (I didn’t check whether the font was pointing north, but I’m sure it would have been, given the scholarship of the audio guide). This particular example has been declared a national treasure.

And when the guide explained that the Apsara (dancers) on this piece were born from the Hindu legend of the “ocean of churning milk”, it was really satisfying to know what he was talking about (I don’t think I’ve covered this – it’s quite long-winded, but the summary is that in the search for immortality, demons and gods had to grind a stone to dispel the ocean which revealed the cup of immortality at the bottom; after a bun fight and some classic deception and attention diversion (this is where the beautiful Apsara come in), the gods won out):

I can’t resist a pic of Ganesha (“remover of obstacles in life”) – I’m becoming quite fond of the old chap. In his right hand he holds part of his tusk which he broke off to use as a pen. A “remover of obstacles” indeed (although I can’t help but suspect this was not the optimal solution to the problem at hand):

One of the Buddhas was sat in a chair – called the “European seated” (or “stiff as a board”) position. This is why I can’t squat like a local.

And I can confirm this magnificent creature:

… Is a boy elephant:

What??!! These details are important 😉

I like to travel hand-baggage only. It’s easier and safer. Liquids in containers over 100ml were decanted accordingly. But what to do with my penknife. No way it’d get through security (and so it shouldn’t). To be honest, I hadn’t used it that much – the knife was adequate, but too thick, the scissors had come in useful sometimes, but everything else not actually very useful (corkscrew, saw), too stiff to open or not well-designed (like the nail file that was very thick so you couldn’t actually get it under your nails). Evan and Lindsay, meanwhile, saw it and lamented that they’d needed it. So I gave it to them. I think it made Evan’s day – he spent most of the rest of the trip exploring it. The look on his face was worth way more than the $8 I paid for it 🙂

They’d splashed out on the boat trip from the Thai border to Luang Prabang. It’s a classic journey but it’s got too popular for it’s own good, so tourists are cattle – herd them on, herd them off. Like Ha Long Bay, the consensus was that it was worth upgrading. And Ha Long Bay cost them $139 each. Some other traveller friends had paid $80 – another example of how pricing in Asia is a bit of a minefield.

Airports aren’t interesting. If I could speak Vietnamese, I’d have no hesitation in taking the sleeper train, but not being able to talk to my fellow travellers would be too frustrating: they obviously have an amazing story to tell, and I’d love to hear about their lives, families, history, thoughts on the conflicts, how it affected them, the changes they’ve seen to the country since they were young, what their hopes and fears are for the future, where they’re going and why. But I have to sit in silence, communicating with gestures and facial expressions (which can communicate a lot, but the finer points of economic and international affairs are a struggle). For eighteen hours. Yep, the train journey from Da Nang to Hanoi takes 18 hours. If you travelled for that long in the UK, you’d fall off the edge. Mind you, it’s pretty slow going.

But it was a one-hour flight. Four hours including transfers, waiting and eating pho ga (chicken noodle soup). And I’m running out of time.

And it was worth it to see the icecream:

It remined me of “Wanker” beer that was launched in the US (by a couple of Kiwis, I think). Branded T-shirts with creative slogans flew off the shelves… to non-Americans.

“Sorry, we are full”.

What? You can’t be full. Nowhere’s been full. Realised that it’s Hanoi, the capital. And, of course, I’ve had the luxury of travelling in shoulder season. We’re now into high season. I realised I can either fight it, or accept the reality of the situation and start planning a bit more in advance.

Found an acceptable hotel and spent ages sat in my room talking to the owner – she wanted to tell me all about her daughter who loves English and Japanese (indeed, when we were downstairs later, said DD appeared and spoke in English to her mother!). Switched on girl – English means money.

Today’s random stuff. Powerlines run along all the major roads here. That’s why I have a lot of pictures of powerlines. Photoshopping them out doesn’t seem right.

Larger towns are marked with this blue sign (when you leave the town, there’s a diagonal red line through it):

24 October 201526 January 2018

Day 40 (Sat 24 Oct): Can Tho to Saigon (Bitexco Financial Tower)

Vietnam = Cambodia + 20 years. It’s like Cambodia’s big brother. Natural features are very like it’s neighbour, but it’s more advanced. I use that word hesitantly because it implies that commerical, economic and infrastructural development is “better”.

No tuk-tuks – that’s the first thing I noticed. And I kinda missed them. Whilst their hassling got wearing, tuk-tuk drivers were a friendly bunch. Part of the reason for their absence is the road networks – at times it felt like being in America, as we left the Mekong Delta behind:

Tourist buses have replaced local vans. I gained a comfortable seat and wifi (as long as you weren’t sitting at the back), but felt I lost some authenticity, even though the majority of passengers were Vietnamese. Second world, not third. As the bus station was 15km outside the city centre (why do they do that?), I got a moto and really enjoyed the journey (complete with helmet, which was a first):

Lots of bustling side streets extend from the main backpacker drag (Saigon’s answer to Bangkok’s Khao San Road), but it’s cleverly numbered: the first number indicates the position on the main road, and the second number shows where on the side road your destination is. So to find my hotel (address number: 185/20) I went to 185 on the main road, and as I walked down the side street, the addresses increased, so the closest to the main road was 185/1… so I just walked until I got to number 20 (about 25m).

Bitexco’s Financial Tower was never going to match up to the Burj Khalifa, but the BJ isn’t in Saigon (now known as Ho Chi Minh City or “HCMC”, but all the locals still refer to it as Saigon). A $5 Sprite bought me a seat on the 52nd floor (it was free to go up) from where I watched the sunset:

Is this a photobomb, d’ya reckon?

Although I’ve never been to a bar where you’ve had to apply for cocktails:

Blues guitar music from the other side of the bar started out OK, but got gradually worse (something to do with the beer he was knocking back?!). It was pretty posh. Or at least, they wanted it to be posh. But I wasn’t the only one going casual – the Chinese and Vietnamese were dressed up, but a group of western middle-aged ladies were in beach attire – and I wondered whether we were let in because we were clearly western; ergo, we are rich. Finding out how the other half live. And it doesn’t sit quite right.

Wandering back through the park, I noticed groups of Vietnamese crowded round westerners. I wondered if they were doing some ad hoc cultural exchange of sorts, but didn’t stop to find out.

On the surface, Vietnam appears to be very similar to Cambodia:

landscape
lots of dogs
detached properties
scooters
dust
relatively poor
building boom
terrible music (sorry, I really am trying)
shops and dwellings open to the street

But there were some immediately apparent differences:

scooter drivers (and their passengers) wear helmets
buses are government-run
Lots and lots and lots of lorries
More scooters than Cambodia
Lots more cars that Cambodia
Written language is based on the Latin alphabet (more on this later)
More exposed flesh
Higher-class establishments (i.e. more high-quality hotels, etc)
High buildings – I can’t recall seeing many skyscrapers in Phnom Penh
Western brands (food, clothing, etc); for instance, the shopping mall below the Bitexco Tower (of course there was) had a Top Shop:

… and did you notice that 12 was the largest size offered?

Random photo: you remember I mentioned that the middle-aged lady attire of choice was the matching top/bottom combo? Here it is again:

They don’t really need Top Shop after all.

19 October 201529 May 2018

Day 35 (Mon 19 Oct): Kampot to Phu Quoc

Good morning, Cambodia.

Couldn’t change my dollars anywhere – interesting given that Vietnam is a stone’s throw away from this place. A business opportunity that a Pot-pat hasn’t caught on to yet. Then my last van ride through Cambodia:

Scott, Chantal and I burst out laughing. The driver smiled cautiously. He’d just handed us some “border control” forms. We’d all heard about this – a “medical check” that they scam you $1 for. General consensus is to go with it. But when we got the form, we just couldn’t help ourselves:

Apparently, our dollar is helping to prevent an epidemic of hypothermia. Wetting ourselves, we calmed down and tried to take it seriously. But then the guy aimed a laser at us and took our body temperature that was duly noted on our forms (which, interestingly, had no official logo) and asked us whether we’d experienced any nausea, vomiting, and the like (all key symptoms of a condition that I was quite worried about, given the climate out here). It was all I could do to keep a straight face.

He, on the other hand, was taking it seriously. But when he took my dollar and stuffed it into the side of his briefcase, I had to turn away else he’d have seen me crack. Oh my, if you’re going to scam us, do it convincingly please!

Good afternoon, Vietnam.

I was looking forward to standing on the top deck of the ferry and watching the journey. That’s why you travel by boat after all (and to cross water, obviously). But no, it was just like an aeroplane – we had allocated seats down in third class, some cheesy TV, a cold cloth and bottled water. But no safety demonstration, which was a shame.

Tagged along with Scott and Chantal, walked down to the beach from their hotel and then wandered back towards the main town on the island enquiring at places to stay.

Found a steal: a private bungalow at a family-run hotel, with this view from my patio:

… for $25 per night. Decided to stay three instead of the planned two nights. Once again, winging it has worked out (part of the art, of course, is deciding whether pre-booked is better, but I’m kinda getting the hang of it). They even had bottled tap water 😉

Off for a dip in the sea straight away (the sun sets at 5:30pm-ish and it gets very dark, very quickly here). And they’ve even foot taps outside each bungalow to prevent the mass sand invasion that blighted my Sihanoukville place. Then back to watch the sun set.

Good night, Vietnam.

15 October 201526 January 2018

Day 31 (Thu 15 Oct): Sihanoukville to Kampot

Let’s start with a “wildlife” review, with these two still sleeping when I arrived for my pick-up:

Finally checked out of my “hotel”. I’d probably have stayed another night here if it’d been good, but I just couldn’t wait to leave. And nowhere to dry my clothes meant that I was down to my last pair of pants. So glad I brought three spares 🙂 On a positive note, Steve tried to make it up to me by providing an enormous breakfast. Here’s what a full English cooked by an Englishman in Cambodia looks like:

But then the “baguette and jam” arrived. It wasn’t so much the radioactive colour of the jam that perturbed me…

… it was the dead ants in it. But hey, this is Cambodia (and in Mondulkiri, I did actually consider eating ants… but didn’t summon up the courage before they’d all been eaten), so I scraped them out and down it went. Then down to the beach to soak up this view before the van arrived:

… when I was accosted by a lady offering any beauty treatment you could desire. There was no way she was getting her hands (and thread) on my eyebrows (what *is* that all about?!), but a quick haggle and she effectively waxed my legs using cotton thread. It stung a little, and took a lot longer than waxing, but it was pretty effective. I’ll report back whether it stayed away for the advertised “4 or 5 weeks”:

I like Kampot. It reminds me of Kratie (a coastal, functional town that’s alive, but not too touristy). Stopped at another local joint for lunch where there were only four things on the menu (and one was pudding!). And then a minor slip… off to find a massage place and inadvertently ended up at a brothel (or “massage with happy ending”). I can’t comment on her, er, “night job” but I hope she’s better at it than her day job – woke up with bruises down my legs. Will be more careful next time!

Loads of ex-pats here (or “Pot-pats” as they’re called). This may be exacerbated by the lack of locals due to Phjum Benh – the end of the 15-day festival when people return to their old country. Apparently, the temple visits are to “feed” the ghosts: when someone dies but doesn’t make it to the planned place they stay on earth as ghosts. Some of these may be your ancestors. So you go to the temple to feed the ghosts… whilst they’re working out a way to get where they want to be, I assume.

I really needed a ballet class (I’d even do adage;), but yoga was the next best thing and a lovely way to kick off Kampot 🙂

13 October 201526 January 2018

Day 29 (Tue 13 Oct): Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville

Lying in the van, watching the world go by:

Only six of us again, and a western-standard van. I’m going up in the world.

As ever, we stopped for “lunch” ridiculously early (10:30am), where they were selling these:

I was intrigued (she could only tell me the name in Cambodian, which obviously didn’t mean much), so I tried some:

Like a grapefruit but less juicy, so you can tear the segments from the pith.

It rained hard yesterday and you could see the flooded rice fields. You can’t mind the rain – it keeps the population (and me!) fed.

Dropped near the centre of Sihanoukville, I decided to wander round the town before heading out to my hotel – the main beaches are party capitals, so I’d settled on the furthest beach, 7km out of town.

In a mini-mart, I found garibaldi biscuits 🙂

And stopped at a local joint for lunch. Getting off the main tourist track is better, cheaper and more interesting. In Phnom Penh, I dined at a local cafe just one street in from the quay and feasted for half the price of one main dish on the main drag. You’ve just gotta have the confidence to try. Same here – at first I thought the $7 tom yam soup was expensive… until they served me enough to easily feed two (the lidded pot contained more rice than I could ever possibly eat). Lunch and dinner rolled into one.

I’ve noticed a number of western males with younger Asian females around. In the most part they appear to be in a mutually-consenting relationship. Jim was one such male. He explained it thus: “In England, I’m a fat, ugly slob; here, I’m like a demi-god.” And it’s true: females are conditioned to be attracted to mates that will not only produce good offspring (so handsome and intelligent), but who have the means to provide for them and their children (rich). And by western standards, you don’t need much to be considered rich here. And the men get attractive, young females. A win-win situation, it would seem. And they appear to be a small percentage of couples, so not adversely affecting the social equilibrium. But I don’t really know. Just interesting.

An hour later, the heavens opened. So I decided to head to my hotel.

“See!” I pointed at the big “Otres Marina” sign:

We were stood in the road, not more than 4 metres away. My tuk-tuk driver squinted. And then nodded enthusiastically, smiled a big grin and said “Ah yeah! My eye not so good.” He’d just driven me 7km in the pouring rain unable to see his hand in front of his face. It had occurred to me that I’d not seen any Cambodians wearing glasses, but had pushed it to the back of my mind. I resolved, at this point, to only use young tuk-tuk drivers. We’d been past my hotel twice already but when I’d said I thought it was here and pointed to the sign, he’d just nodded and carried on driving.

It was about to get worse: not only was the hotel not expecting me (“they don’t email us when they take a booking”; but I’ve not had a problem before so decided to reserve judgement) but my two room options were “awful” or “really awful”. Interestingly, it wasn’t the cold shower (not so bad when it’s 30 degrees outside) or the open-air bathroom option, but the sand. Sand everywhere so you never really feel clean. Even after a cold shower. On a (very) positive note, the wifi was super, the AC effective and quiet and no mozzies (I can deal with lizards – they don’t try to suck my blood). Still, I think I made the wrong decision. Went to book a snorkel trip at the bar down the road, turned round and saw this:

The place was beautiful, alive but chilled. Maybe I had made the right choice after all 🙂

6 October 201526 January 2018

Day 22 (Tue 06 Oct): Sen Monorom to Kratie

Q: How many people can you fit in a minivan?

A: However many people have bought a ticket.

And they load up the westerners first. This, on the face of it, is annoying, because you get picked up early and then spend up to an hour touring one square mile picking up everyone else. But it means we get the best seats on the bus. Because we’ve paid a lot more than anyone else. Bags, boxes and crates are also included, often dropped off at seemingly random (but most definitely not random) points along the way.

And the air-conditioning kept cutting out. “Why’s it not working?” I asked Natalie. She looked at me, smiled and said, “Because we’re going up hill – not enough umph for the both.” Ah yes. First-world brain moment again. It’s good to be conscious of them – puts our world and lives into perspective.

Liked Kratie as soon as we arrived – even the moto driver who tried to hassle us wasn’t too insistent.

Our lunchtime view:

Then we bought grapes and some fruit that looked like small, spiky sweet pototoes for breakfast. Much of the fruit seems to be in the same ilk: a hard, often spiky shell, with fleshy or opaque fruit, and a central stone. “Same, but different”, as they would say around here.

And then headed to the River Dophin Hotel, as we’d decided to splash out £12 on a room. It was so worth it. I had my first hot shower since Dubai (yes, I know I haven’t mentioned it, but I’m a stoical kinda girl). It was even better than coming out of the wilderness into Yosemite Valley. Maybe I’m just easily pleased 🙂

2 October 201526 January 2018

Day 18 (Fri 02 Oct): Banlung to Sen Monorom

The day started well:

Getting into the travelling way of life: jumped off the van from Banlung to Sen Monorom, bowled up to a cafe I’d read about in a local mag and organised somewhere to stay. Gradually descending from flashpacker back to backpacker – the room was $4 (about £2.50). I was interested to find out what I won’t get for the extra $8. Answer: hot water, flushing toilet, toilet paper and sane neighbours. But I do get: paper-thin walls, an unlimited supply of ants and psycho neighbours. Sobbing and anguished cries from next door weren’t sleep-inducing, but another soothing voice gave me hope she’d be OK..

Callum is an Aussie who arrived at the cafe 5 years ago… and ended up marrying the owner. So many people I’ve met started out travelling and found somewhere they didn’t want to leave. Being on the road is great – I wake up each morning and can pretty much do whatever I like, including come home – but I definitely wouldn’t want to live here. Shows how different people are.

I knew Mr Sophann had overcharged me for my van ticket (and whilst I queried it with him I kinda had little choice, and he knew it) but was interested to know by how much. Callum confirmed locals would buy the ticket for about $5.50 and re-sell it for $8 (which is fair enough). I paid $15. Mr Sophann will indeed get the TripAdvisor review he kept nagging me for. I might even write him two 🙂

Natalie was also on the van – it was nice to meet another lone female traveller who speaks English, and she was good fun. We bought some lonigans (small fleshy fruit, with a large stone and potato-like hard shell) and sat on the main road munching and talking. This was a lot more fun than it sounds!

Spent the early evening sat at a cafe eating cake. This is significant – there aren’t many cake places in Cambodia. Sen Monorom has a relatively high ex-pat collective because of the various wildlife projects in town, and they bring beer and cake. Elephant Valley Project (see Sun/Mon) had warned that people might try to warn us off: that their elephants had run away, that it was all a scam, etc. And indeed it came true: the owner had called her son who lectured us about how the two NGOs in the area were taking work away from local guides. As the two NGOs in question own their elephants, I was intrigued to know what elephants he was going to take us to for the $35 he would charge (about half the NGO fee). I feel for them, and it’s so difficult to know what’s “right”.

A laid-back day. Surprisingly difficult to get your head round at first, coming from a life that’s constantly busy. But here it’s very different. Many people don’t “go to work” in the same way – they work long, but chilled, and the pace of life is slow. Allow yourself to, and it’s easy to slide into it.