Day 150 – 29 December 2009: ‘My Son’ and a candlelit dinner on the beach

Mỹ Sơn (pronounced Me Sohn, or something like that) is an arrangement of ancient temples of mainly Hindu origin dating from the seventh century onwards situated 35km away from Hoi An. If Hué was the ancient administrative capital and Hoi An the commercial capital, then Mỹ Sơn is the ancient spiritual capital of the Champa Kingdom which ruled what is now central and south Vietnam from the 7^th century to 1832.

The temples are mostly ruins consisting of grassy invasions of bricks, although there are still a couple of temples with roofs intact and still recognisable as places of worship. The shaping of the brickwork into carvings on the surfaces of the walls are quite interesting too. It is very popular and the place is crowded. Personally I thought there was a lot walking to do without seeing very much. It is also hard to appreciate without knowing a bit more about the history, and there are no signs telling you what you are seeing. I am wearied of ancient monuments now, I’m sure you can tell.

a local dance show greeting tourists at Mỹ Sơn

In the afternoon, back in Hoi An, I rent a bike to go to the beach with Caz and Belgian Sam. It’s a few kilometres from the hotel and when we get near, we are pulled up by an official looking person in a booth who says we have to park our bikes in the bike park at five Dong per bike. It’s not expensive, but there are a lot of bikes in the bike park, so I am not sure that it’s particularly secure. Also, walking down to the beach, we find that there are people who have brought their bikes to it, although there are other people there who will ask you for money to look after them there....though if you have brought your own lock you shouldn’t need to worry too much.

The beach in the afternoon is populated mainly by Australian tourists and some Italians or Germans. The sea is flat going out from the shore, but on the shoreline itself the waves suddenly rise high and crash violently onto the beach. Obviously there is quite a strong undercurrent here, but I am a confident swimmer and am able to body surf (without a board) on the sudden shoreline breaks. However, I am likely to be fairly bruised in the morning.

Later, Irishman Shay turns up at the beach and goes into the sea only to find his swimming trunks’ wasteband is not quite strong enough for the violence of the crashing waves.

Meanwhile, lots of older ladies in the pointy conical hats come around selling bits and pieces. Caz eventually buys a necklace from one of them, and I spot some sunscreen which she will sell me for much cheaper than the shop prices I have seen for sunscreen. It only occurs to me afterwards that the bottle is only half full, and that it may not be real sunscreen anyway.

As sunset approaches, the white tourists disappear and the local population start to appear on the beach. Amongst these are ladies with mobile kitchens who arrange themselves in a row towards the back of the beach, laying out large wicker mats in columns that represent the tables of their restaurant. Each column is aligned to a particular kitchen, and you are welcome to sit on these mats as long as you order at least a drink. At about 40p for a bottle of beer, I order several and with the sun going down the chef / waitress brings out candles. We decide to order food, myself having some delicious fresh garlic prawns. It is only a shame that with Caz being with Sam, my date on this romantic occasion appears to be Shay.

When we eventually leave the beach, our bikes are the last ones in the now unguarded bike park. The ride back to the hotel is a wobbly one in the dark.

My Vietnam Photos link 

Day 149 – 28 December 2009: Hué & Hoi An

Hué was once the capital of Vietnam, in the days of emperors’ rule. In the morning, Laurie and I visit The Citadel, a 19^th century ‘forbidden city’. This costs a couple of pounds / few dollars to get in, but is not maintained or restored like The Forbidden City of Beijing, although there is a lot of restoration work in progress. This area was the scene of a lot of fighting during the Tet Offensive of 1968, and there are still bullet holes in some of the walls of The Citadel area. There are artefacts laying about the place, e.g. china cups, although some seem to be remnants of fake artefacts, such as plastic moulds of mythical beasts. There are also people in mopeds riding about the walkways. Unlike in Beijing, this place has a lived in quality, with many of the buildings being occupied by what I assume are staff of the complex. I like this as it means it is not just a monument to ancient opulence.

After visiting The Citadel, we go to a supermarket where I buy some mayonnaise and cheddar cheese, the latter costing me about four times as much as a whole meal would in a local restaurant. Though there is no bread in the supermarket, fortunately Vietnamese are fond of baked western bread and this is easy to get in the street stores.

We also buy some pastries from a mobile street stall, which are filled with banana or prawn or something mysterious plus tofu. I let myself get overcharged, paying 70k Dong, which is less than three pounds but still about three times a price of a restaurant meal.

The group catch a crowded minibus to Hoi An, taking about four hours from Hué.

Hoi An is an ancient trading port with an old town that attracts the tourists from all over the world. The international influence goes back to its days as a trading port too, and there is a Mediterranean feel to the place. I am reminded of walking through the old town of Nice, except Hoi An is much cleaner and prettier than Nice. Also, the architecture looks more Spanish than French. Walking through the town at night, the lights of the old town give it a luxuriant atmosphere, especially when walking by the river with traditional bridges connecting the two sides of the town.

Nowadays, one of the key attractions for tourists is the vast numbers of tailors who will provide you with made to measure suits, trousers or dresses for a fraction of western prices. Personally, I satisfy myself with buying a pair of Billabong swim shorts for a couple of pounds.

Laurie and I stop at a riverside restaurant where I have first trial of a Vietnamese pizza, although the chefs here are quite likely not to be Vietnamese in restaurants serving western fare. For the achievement of a proper herby tomato base, I’d say it was the best so far, but it is let down on a few technicalities. The dough base is ok, but not cooked in a proper pizza oven and the Parma Ham topping was too much and was added after cooking, so was cold. 8/10. Also, the prices here are much more expensive than other restaurants (paying about £5 for my pizza), but if this was in Nice, but with the scenery and ambience that Hoi An has, it would be at least four times the price.

Laurie has something local of course, but she does join me for cocktails. She is drunk after only one, a mixture of Kahlua and Bailey’s that is called a ‘blow job’ for some reason, so I have to drag her back to the hotel. This is her second to last night before she leaves us for a week or so to meet up with her boyfriend in Saigon / Ho Chi Minh City, after which they will both be joining us until Singapore.

Day 148 – 27 December 2009: enter Vietnam

On our second day of driving I notice that I haven’t seen any sign of industry beyond tourism, building and vehicle maintenance. Shops that sell basic foodstuffs like rice, vegetables and meat are conspicuous by their absence. Presumably most of Laos’ populace is self sufficient for food. Farm animals wonder around freely, be they cows, goats, pigs or chicken. I am confused by how ownership is decided.

I should say that we have not visited Laos’ capital Vientiane on this journey, and I am going only on what I saw. Also, while the people are poorer on average than in China, they generally seem happy enough and it’s not as if they are in a state of desperation, as many are in India, for instance.

Laos Photos link

We eventually get to the Vietnam border late in the day. The truck is not allowed to enter, so we have to use public transport or taxis throughout Vietnam. While the crossing does not take long as we don’t have to wait for the truck to inspected, and also the border officials probably want to go home, it is dark by the time we get through.

On the Vietnam side of the border, we cram ourselves into two minibuses. Some of the locals try to get in to get a free lift to the next town, but there is no room, and we have to tell them to get out. Our destination, Hué, is still a few hours away and the drive is predictably hairy with our drivers driving blind on the wrong side of the road going around bends. We survive, however, to arrive at Hué at about 10:30 at night.

Day 147 – 26 December 2009: on the Chinese made roads

It emerges that my fellow tubers from yesterday carried on drinking into the night. Jen won a T-shirt just because she was the highest placed female in the killer pool competition at the Aussie Bar, but she also has a crate of beer having won the competition outright.

Today is a drive day towards the Vietnam border over the surprisingly smooth roads through the Laos jungle. The towns we drive through have a mix of wood hut houses, but also some attractive looking modern homes. Not all of those built with concrete are painted though.

I also note that there are a lot of 4x4’s on the road. The Lonely Planet mentions that Laos is getting a lot of investment from China, although ‘mainly to benefit Chinese companies’, e.g. the Chinese road builders we encountered on our first day in Laos. This is probably a reflection of the writer’s (mis)understanding of market economics as much as anything, although China is notorious for making investment conditional on Chinese companies receiving the benefit of the expenditure.

Day 146 – It’s Christmas!!!!, so let’s eat pizza

We had planned to be on the truck today, but there has been a change of plan; Or a change of heart. It is Christmas after all.

We have a Christmas breakfast by the truck of fried eggs, baked beans and cheese, which, as a reminder of home comforts is a real luxury to at least the Brits among us.

However, when I get woken up this morning by Laurie brightly wishing me a merry Christmas, all I can think to say is ‘Bah Humbug!’. ‘What does that mean?’, she says. Being French, she is not aware of the tale of Scrooge and the ghosts of Christmas past / present / future. I give her a brief synopsis of the story to which she replies ‘so what happens to the cow?’. ‘What cow?’, say I. ‘The Christmas Cow!’ says Laurie, ‘that’s the name of the story isn’t it?’.

I am not sure what to do today, as tubing is pretty seems there is to do in Vang Vieng, besides frequenting its many bars with constant reruns of Family Guy or The Simpsons showing on TV.

I thought the trip down the river yesterday was pleasant, but not terribly exciting. However, Essex  and crew are going to go today, and I decide that if I am going to do a floating pub crawl, I really should do it with someone like Essex and not someone like Laurie, who is known to be immediately hungover after one glass of wine (so not French!).

Before starting the tubing, we go to lunch at a place called the Aussie Bar, which, unsurprisingly, is run by an Australian. He is married to a local woman and, though the menu is typically Australian, the cooking by locals is not. The owner claims to do the best burger in town, as well as the best pizza; in fact, probably the best everything. However, when little Essex’s burger arrives it is plentiful but burnt. My pizza, which arrives after a tourist season has passed, has a crust like stale bread. The sauce on the base is ketchup. Not only is this not the best pizza in Vang Vieng, I am sure, it is the worst one I have seen or tasted in the whole world! Marks out of ten? –ve 1,587,669. Bah bloody humbug!

On the river today, I get into the spirit(s) of things a lot more. In fact, Essex, Just John and chef Martin and Jen decline to take part in any of the fun and games. I think they are feeling a wee bit fragile themselves today. Only Hughie joins me on some of the swings, etc.

At the first bar, I get on the zip line and hold on till the hand support reaches the end of the line, propelling me off and flipping me multiple times into the river. Man that was fun....I have to go again.

At a later bar, there is a slide that doesn’t look all that exciting when looking at it from the bottom. The end of the slide is a hockey stick shape, but it doesn’t look like much of a thrill to look as I am not convinced the hook upwards is enough to project a grown adult very far. In fact I am worried that I would just fall over the edge and hit the shallow water near the bank. However, when I watch an overweight teenager slide down and fly into the river, I decide that I could well be wrong in my calculations and decide to give it a go, having filled myself with quite a bit of Dutch courage by now. I turn out to be very wrong, as the slide hurls me up and then almost half way across the river.

After this quick adrenaline hit, I chat to someone who says that the challenge is to do the slide twice. He has scratches on his torso from some uneven tiles on the slide. My Dutch courage says I have to face this challenge, and the slide down is more nerve racking knowing that I have to be as careful sliding as I do about hitting the water.

After the day’s adventures, I find that some people have booked a Christmas dinner at the Aussie Bar. I warn them off it and decide to give Vang Vieng another chance in the pizza challenge by going to a place we passed on the drive into Vang Vieng a couple of days ago. It’s average though. 5/10.

Day 145 – 24 December 2009: Vang Vieng and its world famous floating pub crawl

In the morning, I am not feeling very alive, but we are having a group truck clean so I have to get up if I want to avoid being ostracised again.....

In the afternoon, Laurie and I go tubing down the Nam Song river, the activity Vang Vieng is apparently famed for. The tube is rented from the town, and then the rental company take you to the start by truck tuk (kind of a truck, kind of a tuk tuk). The truck tuk we get into is filled with Australians, one of whom is a young lady who still has serious scabs from falling off a motorbike in Vietnam. She is about to join in on another reckless adventure.

The start point for the tubing part of the river is at a bar which is just a wood hut with a wooden platform on stilts for seating and mingling. Then I notice that on both sides of the riverbank there are more of the same. Most of these have some sort of zip line or swing throwing drunken late teens / twenty somethings into the river. At this time of year the tide is low, so it is no surprise to learn that there was a death in the river within the past month. In fact, reports of deaths here seem to be quite common, as even when the river is not so shallow, it has a very strong current, so if you don’t hit your head on something, you may well drown.

However, when in Rome....at the second bar, which is populated by many picturesque young women in bikinis, I decide to try the trapeze swing, which is probably the safer of the options available. I do it once, and even with the river at its low-ish water levels, the current is still quite strong, and I am aided back to the bar by someone throwing a line for me to grab.

With the tube rental place taking a deposit which is non-returnable if the tube is brought back after 6pm, it is clear that many of these ‘floaters’ have no intention of getting their deposits back. In fact, I think there are several people at the first bar which will have only used their tubes for the 10 metre float to its platform. However, Laurie is being a bit of a party pooper, plus I am in no mood for drinking, so we don’t stay and decide to float onwards to see what lies ahead.

After we float past the first few bars, it is apparent that we are now alone on the river. It is only 1pm and far too early for most to move onto the next rung of riverside bars. Passing one of the bars here, the owner is touting for business by holding up a sign advertising the availability of ‘psychedelic shrooms’.

With the river flow at its low point at this time of year, it quiet and slow and I find myself having to propel myself with my hands at times. This is more exercise than I had planned.

We stop at ‘The Last Bar’ – a misnomer it turns out – where we have been told that there is a cave nearby. We get directed to the cave by the friendly son of the bar owner, as its path is amongst the jungle growth. The cave itself is not greatly spectacular, but the scenes of the high rising cliffs protruding from the jungle horizon are a highlight.

We get to the tubing finish line with an hour or two to spare before the cut off time, and we stop for dinner at a nearby restaurant which is empty except for us and yet has incredibly lacklustre service. It does do a passable red Thai chicken curry though, and we are seated in a booth overlooking the river, albeit somewhat precariously, so I am happy here chilling out.

I have an early night, which is only slightly interrupted by Essex’s now nightly pub return performance.