Sunday, October 29, 2006

hill trekking in chiang mai

'You know in many ways Coca Cola, Pepsi, and Fanta are analogous to Christianity, Buddhism, and Judaism,' said the girl at 12am last night in the street side bar in Chiang Mai, while I sat opposite her pondering which ward she had escaped from, and whether I could use her new age headband as a gag for her mouth. 'Yeah, that really makes sense to me now,' she added in a tone which suggested she was thanking me for having helped her have such a sophisticated, cogent, and insightful thought (how dare she blame me? I thought). I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it, when she shifted her philosophical reflections to a discourse on chocolate, and, such was her eloquence, she had to leave the bar, there and then, to go and buy a 'Ritter Sport' from a Seven Eleven. She never returned. I downed my whiskey and coke and went to bed at my new guesthouse, the Panda Guesthouse (which is about ten metres from the bar), and so ended my hill trekking experience.
It all began three days earlier when a group of us headed out of the city and into the countryside in a minibus. First we drove to the village where the Karen Tribe, or 'long necks,' live. They are so-called because from the age of five they wear a progressively larger ringed neck brace around the neck which stretches it to an eventual incredible length (see my photos). After this, we moved on and went elephant riding, which was good fun, even if my elephant did stop for a long time to eat an entire tree. We walked from the elephant camp for a few hours to a remote hill tribe village lived in by the Lahu Tribe. Here we had dinner and stayed overnight, sleeping in one of the bamboo hut homes. In the evening the village children came and sang us some local songs. Their performance was engineered for the tourist, but this didn't make it any less enjoyable.
On day two we spent the day walking to another Lahu Tribe village, in another part of the hills. This took us all day to get to. On our way we visited a bat cave, crossed and swam under a large waterfall (the force of the water on the head was enormous), and then - after we had reached our second village - went swimming in the local river at the request of the village children, who wanted to splash around and be thrown into the water in turns. We stayed over here for the night, and played with the kids for most of the evening. None of them could speak English (many don't even speak Thai: their first language is their tribal dialect) so they just kept saying 'hello, hello, hello,' pointing and beckoning at things. 'Hello, hello, hello, hello.' It was another wonderful evening which I will remember very fondly.
On day three we left around 10am and trekked down to a much larger river, where we went white water rafting and later for some more relaxed bamboo rafting. This was a new one on me, and I enjoyed it a lot. One of the people in our group had been before, and assessed our ride as being: 'not too hard but above beginner.' I got soaked through and halfway down the river jumped out of the raft for a swim in the water, careful to quickly scramble back on board before the next set of rapids. After this our three days were up and we went back to Chiang Mai for a few beers, and some annoying conversation with a girl at the next table about how Judaism is really very similar in a lot of ways to Fanta. I also had the most appreciated hot shower and change of clothes of my life. Well, maybe not 'the most' but certainly up there in the top ten.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

manna from heaven

I've just been to McDonalds. It was amazing, and I was in heaven. To eat a badly processed burger again after so many months of healthy rice, noodles, and vegetables was utter bliss. Specifically, I had a double cheeseburger with large french fries, a large coke, and a strawberry ice-cream for dessert. I would have had chicken mcnuggets as well, but they don't have the same barbecue sauce as we have at home, and eating mcnuggets without barbecue sauce is a bit like Ginger Rogers dancing without Fred Astaire, or Laurel clowning without Hardy. It just doesn't seem right. Chicken mcnuggets should only be savoured in optimum conditions.
I continue to have somewhat mixed feelings about Chiang Mai, but the jury is still ultimately out. The city itself doesn't have the character and individuality of some of the places I've been lucky enough to visit recently, but I have to remember that people don't come here for the city, they come here to journey into the surrounding mountains, and these may be very beautiful. I don't know, I haven't been yet.
Tomorrow I'm going hill trekking up in the mountains. I'll be out in the hills northwest of Chiang Mai for three days and two nights, and so won't be on-line again until early next week. Have a good weekend.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

two days and two journeys

I've travelled a fair distance since my last blog, and find myself, slightly ahead of time, back in Thailand, the land of smiles.
I left Luang Nam Tha in Laos on Monday morning, and spent the day on a bus heading for my final (and seventh) town in Laos: Huay Xai. The journey was 'challenging,' and took roughly nine hours. In fact, the road was the roughest I've travelled anywhere in South East Asia. Throughout it was an unsealed dirt track, many parts still under construction, which wound up and down the densely overgrown mountains. I'm still astonished that our huge bus was able to make it through. The track itself was thin, and often with a ledge and drop to one side, and there were a couple of times when I really thought we might slide off and down the mountain. But we didn't, and we were all patient when we reached stages so poor that nearby construction vehicles had to be enlisted to smooth out and create a new track for us to scramble over. About four hours in, one of our front tyre's blew out (I wasn't surprised), but the driver was able to replace it with another equally bald tyre, and in admirable time. The dust we threw up as we drove was unbelievable and seeped in at every opportunity through the open crevices of the coachwork. Arriving early evening, I got off covered in a sheet of red earth, stepping down as an American woman (who had also made the journey) said, 'Jesus you look dirty.'
At my guesthouse the landlady wouldn't let me touch anything until I had been in the shower, such was the risk of contamination to her sheets and door handles. I checked into the B.A.P. Guesthouse, and shared a room with an Iraq War veteran called Justin, recently out of the army and on a break before going back to study at 'school,' and about to begin a new life out of the forces. It's a shame I was so tired when we arrived as, looking back, I should have asked him more about his time in Iraq. Interestingly, he had also been stationed in England for a time at the U.S Army Base in Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, and knew more than I expected about East Anglia and the Norfolk Broads.
The journey from Chiang Khong to Chiang Mai was a very different kettle of fish. It began the next morning. I checked out of the B.A.P. Guesthouse about 9am, said cheerio to Justin, and strolled down the hill to the Mekong (the Mekong River forms the border divide between Laos and Thailand at this point, and you get a boat across to move between the two countries). Five minutes in the border hut and I was stamped out of Laos, three weeks of exploring complete. I jumped into a little wooden boat and chuntered across the river to the opposing border town of Chiang Khong. I was stamped on the other side with a free thirty day visa, took one last look back at lovely Laos, and then jumped in a minibus bound for Chiang Mai (the one town I wanted to visit when I was in Thailand three months ago, but which I left for later). The subsequent minibus ride was a complete contrast to my journey the previous day. Running along a wide tarmaced highway, we travelled around eighty or ninety kilometres an hour, soon covering a distance which in Laos would have easily taken double the time. I arrived in Chiang Mai late afternoon and, after a bit of conscientous hunting around, checked into the Orchid Guesthouse, which is basic, but central and cheap.
My first impression was one of slight confusion. Chiang Mai is the jewel of the hilly north of Thailand and a renowned area for hill-trekking. I had expected an evocative wooden village up in the hills, a laid back hill station. What I found was an urbanised mega-city, a kind of mini-Bangkok. This pleased me not, but as the hours have passed the place has already begun to grow on me. Last night I found a roof top hippy bar, which looks out over the city, and showed me for the first time the mountains on the horizon. Looking out as the sun set, ambient music playing in the background, a cool breeze running over my legs, I began to feel some stirrings of affection for the place. We will see if the enthusiasm grows or diminishes over the next few days.
I checked my weight yesterday for the first time in over a month, and I have put on half a stone since Vietnam. I now weigh thirteen stone. This is no problem, I could probably do with the extra weight, but it's not a trend that I want to continue, so no more cakes for the moment.
It's Wednesday morning. A busy day is ahead, but you will hear more of that in my next entry.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

northern laos

A few days ago (last Thursday) I left Luang Prabang by boat and travelled north on the river to the small village of Nong Khiew. The journey was magnificient and took me through some of the most astonishing mountain scenary I've seen in Laos. The boat was a small blue longtail boat, and there were two drivers who took it in turns to steer. Arranged variously in the back of the boat were a Swedish couple, a Swiss teacher, me, three backpacks and a travel bag. It took us seven hours at an almost non-existent pace, but what a seven hours it was, and the sun was blazing.
There's not much to say about Nong Khiew. There's pretty much nothing there - a couple of holiday bungalows, a general store, a post office, and a local cave, which is the main tourist attraction.
I visited the cave very early the morning after I arrived. The Swedish couple who had travelled up with me also came along. When we reached the foot of the cave there was an admission booth requesting five thousand kip for entry. We paid the man by the booth the money, were given photocopied tickets, and went in, or rather began to climb up. The man then jumped on his moped and rode off into the distance.
The cave was interesting (it was used as a hideout during the Indo-China Conflict) but nothing to wet your pants over. After about twenty minutes we climbed back down. We got back to the ticket booth, and two women were sitting where the ticket man had been.
'Need ticket for cave,' the first of the two women said.
'We have tickets,' I said.
'No, need ticket,' she said again, thinking I had not understood her.
I showed her my ticket as proof. She looked confused. She then consulted with her friend and there was much scrutiny of the produced ticket.
'This not real ticket,' she said eventually.
We had been scammed by a local guy who had seen us coming (making it the second time I have been scammed in a week incidentally). An opportunist, he had posed as a tourist official, taken our money, and then legged it. It can't have been the first time he has done it as he had those pre-prepared tickets ready in his pocket. The women were nice and just took the tickets back. They asked us to describe the man who had charged us so that they could try to track him down, and give him a good kicking. We were not charged the admission again, and found the whole thing pretty funny.
We were back in the village by breakfast time, and I caught the 11am bus to Oudomxai. I say bus, it was a pick-up van of the sort generally favoured by self-employed builders in the UK. It was fitted with bench seats in the back and a tin roof on top. It was pretty uncomfortable. I arrived in Oudomxai, a quiet yet laid back spot which gets very little tourism, at around 3pm on Friday.
Once I had found a room I went for a wander around, and met a monk called, Monk Seewan. We got chatting, initially about Buddhism, and he asked me if I would come to his English class that evening to help teach the local students. I said I would love to and duly went along. I stayed at the school for two lessons, participating in the first, and then being in charge of the second. There were about forty-five teenagers in the first group and about fifteen in the second. They all seemed desperate to learn English, and were lovely lovely kids.
I really enjoyed myself, and was invited to dinner afterwards by the class teacher at his home. He said he wanted to say thank you for the help and also to ask me a favour. Intrigued I went back to his house and had dinner and a beer with his family. They live in a one room wooden shed with only three walls.
After I had finished my sticky rice and dried meat I asked what the favour was? It turned out he wanted me to translate the lyrics to 'I just called to say I love you' by Stevie Wonder, a favourite song of his, but a song to which he could not quite catch all the lyrics. I was happy to oblige and got on with it. He played his recording over and over again and I gradually scripted the words out on to a piece of paper: 'No New Year's Day, to celebrate, no chocolate coloured candy hearts to give away...' We wrapped up about midnight, the mystery solved, and then he ran me back to my hotel on his moped, still thanking me profusely.
It's one of the most interesting evenings I've had since I've been out here. I went to bed exhausted but satisfied I'd made the most of the day.
Next morning I headed out, and caught the bus further north. I arrived in Luang Nam Tha (my current location) at 3pm yesterday, and haven't really been very impressed by the place. There's nothing here, and there's not much atmosphere. I'll be happy enough to move on.
Tomorrow morning I leave, on what is reputed to be the worst road in Laos, to journey across to the northern border town of Huay Xai. From here I will cross back into Thailand. Once in Thailand I will begin making my way to Chang Mai, which I missed out on my earlier visit to Thailand, and from there I will go on to Myanmar (formerly Burma).
I have just read Meet Mr Mulliner by P. G. Wodehouse. It was very very funny but is written about a time that I find difficult to relate to: people having trouble with their butler in 1920s England doesn't really have much relevance to me and my life. Even so, I would definitely like to read more of Wodehouse's novels.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

keep walking

Today is a real scorcher. It's my last in Luang Prabang, and I'm reflecting on what a beautiful place it is, and what a good time I've had here. My friends Jason and Liz have just caught a flight down to Bangkok (there is a small airport here), so I'm back on my own again and ready to plan my next move.
We all went out for some beers last night (our third night in a row), and discussed the possibility of me visiting them in Australia before my trip is out. This is something I'm mulling over now, and I think there's a very good chance I'll do it. Jason and Liz live in Sydney, and my other Australian friends are down in Adelaide, so I've got mates in a couple of locations that I could go and see. I wonder if I'll really kick myself when I get back to England if I don't go? Especially having been so close. I've certainly got the money to do it - no problems there - and I could roll it together with a further visit to New Zealand perhaps? That would be amazing. Anyway, I'll get back to you on this when I've thought it through a bit more. No decisions have been made yet.
Also to note, last night I ate a buffalo steak. It tasted good but my preference would still be for a beef steak given the choice.
There's nothing left for me to see or do in Luang Prabang so I'm just idling until my transport north is ready. Yesterday I went by boat up the river to the Pakou Caves, and then on by mini-bus to the famous Tad Sae Waterfall. The waterfall was pretty amazing, and I was able to climb by rocky path all the way up. Thanks to a wooden fence across the top I also managed to wade into the water and stand on the very tip of the fall and look down over the edge. It was an amazing thing to be able to do. I took a photograph but it just looks pathetic in comparison to how it looked and felt at the time.
I contemplated buying a second t-shirt from the local night market last night, but decided in the end that it would be needless extravagance, and that the money could be better spent on either (a) a Beer Lao (b) some beef laab and sticky rice or (c) a piece or carrot cake. Carrot cake became the eventual winner.
Speaking of clothes, I had an interesting discussion two nights ago about underpants while we were out drinking. Chatting comparatively we established that: I have seven pairs of underpants and get them all washed once a week, Jason has only five pairs and they last him considerably longer, and Scott (someone we were chatting with) has only three pairs and seemingly never ever gets them washed. Three pairs. Unbelievable.

Monday, October 16, 2006

never trust a monk

I've just been scammed by a monk.
After lunch I went to visit Wat Tham Xieng Maen, which is on the opposite river bank to Luang Prabang. I arrived to find the temple locked up, but a monk spotted me wandering in the grounds, and went and got the keys and opened the place up so I could go inside. He accompanied me in and watched me looking at the walls and carvings. Under his gaze I felt under pressure, and thought I'd better leave a small donation. This I did. I then went to leave but he blocked my exit.
'Money please,' he said.
'I've just given some money. There. In the donation box. You saw me,' I said. I didn't feel embarrassed because I thought I'd done my bit, even if my donation had been nominal.
'That Buddha money. Need monk money now,' he explained. It seemed I was being asked to pay him off. He was a monk racketeer and I had walked into his monk protection racket.
'How much is monk money then?' I said slightly excaberated.
'One dollar please.'
An image of him putting me in a 'concrete overcoat' and disposing of me in the Mekong ran through my mind. I gave him the money, primarily so I could write this blog entry about the incident, and also so I could add 'the great monk scam' to my list of anecdotes. He took it and smiled. Did I see a hint of menace in his eyes? And then he moved to the side and waved me on.
Wat Tham Xieng Maen is one of four Buddhist temples I've been to see while I've been here. I haven't even been trying but it's such a compact town you just keep falling into them. I've also been to Wat Xieng Thong, the temples on Mount Phu Si (worth visiting for the view rather than the temples), and Wat Chom Phet today - seen whilst on my trip across the Mekong. Wat Xieng Thong is the only one worthy of note, and is a real beauty. It's small but magnificent. Built in 1560, the rear wall features an unusual 'tree of life' mosaic, and there are some beautiful flowers in the gardens outside which really complement and add to the look of the building.
I've also been to the Royal Palace, which is now a museum. It's modest in size, more of a stately summer house really, but worth walking around. It's been preserved as the last king left it before he was exiled and disappeared. There was an interesting photography exhibition in one of the out buildings: black and white pictures of monks at a retreat, honing their skills at extortion with menaces no doubt.
The Royal Palace is a lovely building in an outstandingly beautiful and unspoilt town. Lonely Planet describes Luang Prabang as 'an incredible collection of Buddhist and French colonial architecture clustered together on a small riverine peninsula surrounded by mountains.' This beauty became official when UNESCO named it a world heritage town. Luang Prabang is somewhere you can't help but relax and feel happy. You don't need too much to do, you just need a bit of good weather, which I've been lucky enough to have for the last day or two.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

luang prabang

Just off the bus. I am in Luang Prabang. Northern Laos.
It was kind of my mini-bus driver to take time out from being a stunt driver to bring me and the other passengers up here. Aside from narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a lorry full of fruit, we almost killed an ox on the way up. I'm glad to be out of that silver Toyota van.
Was the ox ok? What happened? Well, what happened was this: we were coming round a corner, on a hill descent, towards the end of the journey, when an ox came into vision. The inert quadraped was logiclessly attempting to graze on the tarmac in the middle of the thin country hill road. The driver thought this no problem, he'd seen cows in the road before, maintained his speed, pulled to the right to go round it, and pressed his horn a few times to let the beast know he was coming through.
He realised too late that the ox was tied on the right hand side to a pole by the side of the road by a rope hanging about 30cm off the ground. A rope now directly and unavoidably in our path. It was too late to brake, and there was no-where to swerve. We were going hit the rope and catapult the poor creature into the North Laos hills.
There was an audible intake of breath inside the van.
The ox looked up.
The driver braced himself.
A clairvoyant in China felt 'something wrong.'
Time stood still for a second.
Then we hit the rope at full speed, and it went under the front wheels.
The rope cleared the wheels.
Then it went under the rear wheels.
The rope cleared the rear wheels.
Simultaneously, I looked to my left and saw the ox suffer a yank to the head, but nothing that could justify a whiplash case with Claims Direct. The rope had been just low enough, and just slack enough at the crucial moment.
The day was saved. Just. He would graze another day.
Things ran smoother thereafter, and I arrived here at about 3pm. From what I can see Luang Prabang is small but perfectly proportioned. I dare say I will blog more about the place over the next few days. Will let you know what the town is like etc.
Unrelatedly, I've finished reading The Odessa File (and recommend it), and have been reading Seventy Two Virgins by Boris Johnson, which I've now almost finished. It's a farce about an attempted suicide bombing during the visit of the American President to London. It's a bit like a Tom Sharpe novel but not so funny or grotesque. Still worth reading though.

Friday, October 13, 2006

a recent true story

Vietnam. An Irish tourist is taking a day trip out to see the hill tribe villages of the Hmong People just outside Sapa. The Irish tourist is with a Vietnamese English-speaking tour guide and they have just met a Hmong woman along a footpath...
Tourist: (To the guide) Er sorry. Would this lady mind if I took a photograph of her? Her clothing is so beautiful, I'd love to get a picture of it.
* The guide asks the Hmong woman in Vietnamese if this is possible and receives a reply *
Guide: She says she would prefer not. Sorry.
* Tourist looks embarrassed *
Tourist: Oh right. I, I completely understand. How insensitive of me. I've heard about this: isn't it the case that the hill tribes live so traditionally that they have no understanding of modern photography, and, when they see you taking a photograph of them, they think you are capturing and taking away a piece of their soul, which they also believe can never be retrieved or given back?
Guide: No. She says her hair looks a mess.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

vang vieng

A straightforward bus ride on a Laos local bus saw me arrive in Vang Vieng on Monday lunchtime. It was raining very hard when I left Vientiane at 8.30am, but by the time I reached Vang Vieng around 12pm all rain had stopped.
I had a bit of a rest on Monday afternoon, and didn't do much more than loaf around the local tourist bars, keeping an eye out for Claudia and Jun (didn't bump into them), and having a little preliminary look around the area. Accommodation here ranks among the cheapest I've had, and is of a good standard. My room with ensuite and fan, at the Ngeunpanith Guesthouse, is costing me two dollars a night, and the average meal here in a restaurant is between one and two dollars.
Vang Vieng is a place of outstanding natural beauty, and - you can tell as soon as you arrive - a very well known backpacker haunt. It's a small town composed mainly of tourist bars, hotels, shops, and internet cafes, surrounded by large limestone cliffs which dominate and tower over the town from all sides. Opium is freely available in Vang Vieng, and is even listed on restaurant menus, after drinks, as is cannabis and magic mushrooms, but the town is most famous as being the mecca for Laos river 'tubing.'
On Tuesday I hired a bicycle and cycled for about 20 kilometres around the town, and out into the countryside, through several villages and farms. On my way I picked up two tiny girls who were walking back from school, and gave them a lift on the back of my bike to their home. They didn't speak English, of course, and my four words of Laos didn't go very far, so I just kept cycling, occasionally hearing the two of them giggling behind me, until the older of the two tapped me on the back, and gestured that we had reached their home. After dropping them off, I carried on and cycled to the Poukham Cave, and then I cycled back into town.
Wednesday: I went kayaking with some others along the Namsong River, which included riding some tame rapids. We stopped on the way at the Elephant Cave and the Water Cave, and then carried on to a spot along the river where a local entrepreneur has constructed a riverside bar, and a ten metre platform from which you can hurl yourself into the river. I jumped four times, and loved it.
Same day, I also bumped into some old friends from Hoi An in Vietnam: Jason and Liz. We went out for a few jugs of beer in the evening, and had a really good time catching up on since we last met. They're both interesting and great fun to talk to, and have plenty of stories - over the past ten months they've been through Canada (which is where Liz is from), Africa, India, China, and Southeast Asia. Last stop is Australia (which is where Jason is from). They've gone to Phonsavan today, but we've agreed to meet up again for a few more beers in Luang Prabang (my next stop) on Saturday or Sunday.
On Thursday (today) I went 'tubing' down the Namsong River. Tubing is a Laos phenomenon. It involves inserting yourself in an enormous tractor inner tube and then floating down the river. It's great fun. A German couple accompanied me halfway, until I pulled in at the river bar to drink a few beers and stare at the cliffs. I floated the final stretch of river on my own, save for the odd fisherman or frolicking kid by the waterside.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

vientiane

I'm wearing my new t-shirt. It's predominantly white with two-tone brown and beige stripes down the left and right sides, along the latter of which is written the word, 'quiaoguang.' I assume this is the name of the fashion label that produced the t-shirt. Looking back, I got a bit carried away with my birthday treats yesterday: after having a cheeseburger and chips, the t-shirt of course, two cakes (a caramel slice - finally found one - and a lemon slice), and an ice cream, I also added a Traditional Lao Massage to the list of extravagances.
I had an interesting conversation with a local guy yesterday near the Presidential Palace. Pointing at the Palace, I told him, looking for confirmation, that this was the house of the President of Laos. He told me I was mistaken. It was not the home of the incumbent Premier, he said, but rather the place where all visiting Presidents and Prime Ministers stay when they are in Laos. He added, get this, that the current President just lives in an ordinary little house in the city, just like everyone else, and has no special Palace or State Apartment at his disposal. I found this quite fascinating, but then I guess this is a Communist country.
Thinking about it, I was a little premature in describing Vientiane a couple of days ago as being the same size as Kessingland. It is bigger than this, although not by much. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say Vientiane is around the same size as Lowestoft (in Suffolk), accepting that here there are more people crammed into the same space.
It has also come to my attention that Vientiane has some rather strange and unusual cars on its streets. There are no end of Volkswagon Beetles about the place; they seem to be everywhere, and lots of old 70s cars, old Datsun's and the like. I've also seen a couple of flash motors which seem far too expensive to be here: a luminous yellow Porsche Boxter, and an old Ford Mustang. On my first day here, a London 'black cab' taxi drove past me at a junction (it was green not black). I've no idea how it made its way over here, especially given the well-known reluctance of London taxi drivers to go south of the river. It's quite a fare from Shaftesbury Avenue to Laos.
Today is the climax of the Vientiane Boat Racing Festival, so I've been by the river watching the competitors battle it out. I've been extraordinarily lucky to be in Vientiane this week. Because of the festival there is a party atmosphere, stalls and people all over the place who wouldn't normally be here, and a jovial fun feeling predominates.
I've had one last hunt around the city, and now I'm ready to go. I've just been to Wat Ho Pha Keo for a look around. During my first couple of days in Thailand I went to see the famous Emerald Buddha at the Grand Palace (I think I blogged about it?). It turns out - I found out this afternoon - that his original home was in fact Wat Ho Pha Keo here in Lao, and he is of Lao nationality not Thai. He was unceremoniously nicked by the Thai army some years ago, who took him back to Thailand and built him a new and more ornate Temple in the Grand Palace grounds.
I'll be catching a bus north tomorrow morning, first thing. Destination: Vang Vieng.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

10585 days gone

Today is my birthday, and I am 29 years old. I was born 10585 days ago in Northgate Hospital in Great Yarmouth, Norfolk, and now here I am, just below China, in a pair of green shorts, only a year away from 30.
I share my birthday with, amongst others, Vladimir Putin, Desmond Tutu, Heinrich Himmler, Elijah Mohammed, and Pop Idol judge Simon Cowell. Many important events have also occured on 7 October: 'Cats' opened on Broadway on 7 October in 1982, the US invasion of Afghanistan began on 7 October 2001, and Arnold Schwarzenegger became Governor Schwarzenegger on 7 October 2003. Poor old Ken Bigley died on my Birthday, as did Edgar Allen Poe.
I know most people hate it, but I generally enjoy getting older. To me it signals extra experience, and - if this doesn't sound too pompous - wisdom. From my perspective I'm another year down the road, with a few more achievements under my belt, and a bit more confidence in my view of the world and the way I behave. I don't have to worry about my body falling apart for a good few years yet, so for me being older brings no disadvantages.
However, I do always feel slightly uncomfortable if there is too much attention on my birthday, and never want, for example, to have a party. A couple of cards and a phone call from Mum is as much as I want, and to be honest I could do without the cards (it's a waste of paper). So I'm happy enough to be away by myself this time.
I'm going to celebrate today by buying myself a new t-shirt (I suppose it will inevitably have 'I heart Laos' or 'Beer Laos' written on it), eating a cake from the bakery, and drinking a Beer Lao by the Mekong this evening.
It's a cool day today, which is nice, and I feel fresh as a daisy after my morning shower. Time I got off my backside to do some more exploring.
Don't worry, be happy.

Friday, October 06, 2006

100 days

I've been 'on the road' for exactly one hundred days. Another small landmark reached. I haven't eaten a Sainsbury's Caramel Slice, or used a mobile telephone, or been to work, for nearly a third of a year.
I'm staying at the Phet Phim Guesthouse in the centre of Vientiane. The hotel looks out across the Mekong River (alongside which Vientiane is wrapped). I've been sharing a room with a Japanese guy I met at the bus station called Jun, and hanging out with a German girl called Claudia. Both Jun and Claudia have moved north this morning, as they are more pressed for time than me, but I suspect I may meet up with them again before they head back to their respective homes. I'm holding on here for a few days, because the city is in the midst of it's annual festival, culiminating in boat-racing on the river on Saturday night. I thought I'd like to stay and see this before I leave, and I can - after all - take as long as I like.
So what's the Laos Peoples Democratic Republic like? The Lonely Planet people say that, 'Laos' isolation from foreign influence offers travellers an unparalleled glimpse of traditional Southeast Asian life. From the fertile lowlands of the Mekong River valley to the rugged Annamite highlands, Laos is the highlight of Southeast Asia. This is the least developed and most enigmatic of the three former French Indochinese states.'
High praise. Something Laos often receives. Speaking personally, I've found everywhere I've been that Laos is hyped beyond belief. It's always 'yeah but Laos is cheaper,' or 'more beautiful,' or 'less spoilt.' This (as always with hype) serves only to facilitate a slight feeling of anti-climax when you actually arrive. A sense of expectation which cannot really be lived up to. But Laos is clearly a lovely little place, and I'm very happy to be here.
So far, I've noticed that Laos people are almost invariably relaxed, and genuinely friendly. For example, last night I saw an army soldier on duty walking down the street with a machine gun. When he walked past me he gave me a big smile and stopped briefly to wave at me. It's an image that will stay with me I think, and says something about the national psyche.
I've also noticed what a tiny place Laos is. It's just mind boggling that Vientiane is a capital city, because it is so small. For those from Suffolk - I'd say it's not really much bigger than Kessingland geographically. I went to get some kip (the national currency) from the bank the day before yesterday, and, after looking for what is described in my guide book as the main bank, found a small kiosk not much larger than an ice cream booth, with only two people sat inside. I requested what I thought was a nominal amount of money and was given so many kip bank notes it was literally impossible to fit them in my wallet. I'd say my pile of kip is currently about 4cm high.
Another observation: Laos people seem to align themselves quite closely with Thailand, and are quite Thai influenced. The Laos and Thai languages are quite similiar, as are the buildings, and Thai television is ubiquitous in Laos. Vietnam, which is just as close as Thailand, seems to be regarded as a quite 'foreign' place, and there seems to be little identification between the Laos and the Vietnamese. My impression is that they seem weary of each other.
Vientiane. It's hard to call Vientiane a beautiful city, because, well, it's not very beautiful. The attraction is more that it has a relaxed feel, and a slow pace. There's not much traffic, nobody hassles you but all seem to be friendly, and there's little sense of stress or hurry. I quite like the place although I can't see myself spending more than a few days here.
A word on: Beer Lao. Developed with French assistance this is generally considered to be the best beer in Southeast Asia, and has international awards to prove it. Well, for my money it's not as nice as Tiger Beer (from Singapore), my personal beer of choice out here, but I do prefer it to Beer Chang (Thailand), Singha (Thailand), Angkor (Cambodia), Saigon Red (Vietnam), Halida (Vietnam) or Saigon Green (Vietnam) which is basically Saigon Red with a different word printed on the label. Beer Lao is a little bit watery and weak for my liking. I won't be airing this view publicly while I'm here as I suspect it could result in my deportation.
So where next for Charles E Bury? Around Sunday or Monday I'll move north to the town of Vang Vieng, which is popular with travellers for tubing and kayaking. I've already researched catching a bus up and it's easy - only a couple of dollars, and it takes about four or five hours. More broadly, my plan is to make a slow passage north through several Laos towns and beauty spots, and then turn left and back into Northern Thailand at the end of October.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

the journey to laos

It was a long journey. I'll give it that...
Oct 1, 7pm: left Hanoi on the bus. Drove through the night. It was stormy weather but we were able to keep moving.
Oct 2, 7am: got within about an hour of the Laos land border in the mountains at Cau Treo when we were halted by heavy landslides caused by storms during the night. This road was the only means of exit. No other route across from Northern Vietnam.
Oct 2, 8am: drove back down through the mountain range to the nearest village and waited for the road to be cleared. We were told that workers might be able to clear a path by about two or three o'clock in the afternoon. Sat in the bus.
Oct 2, 2pm: word received that the road could not be cleared. Sat in the bus.
Oct 2, 4pm: gave up and checked into a local hotel. Not cheap.
Oct 2, 12am: my Vietnamese visa expired.
Oct 3, 8am: received word that the road could still not be cleared, and wouldn't be that day. Started to drive south hoping to find another border crossing point.
Oct 3, 1pm: found a local border crossing but couldn't reach this either because the access road had also collapsed. Began to think I would never leave Vietnam.
Oct 3, 4pm: carried on south. Half way back down the country now. Finally reached a border crossing: Lao Bao. I went through with my expired visa. The border crossing guard was a nice man and decided not to fine me, and authorised and stamped my exit.
Oct 3, 4.10pm: had my Laos entry visa stamped. Valid to November. At last in Laos. But not where expected. Southern Laos not Northern Laos. Therefore more driving. We pressed on. Drove north.
Oct 4, 4am: arrived in Vientiane.
Oct 4, 4.30am: checked into the only hotel open in town. Slept like a baby, and praised Buddha that I was no longer on, by, or hanging around a bus.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

licensed to kill...time

'Typhoon Xangsane has hit the central Vietnamese city of Danang and stretches of coastline around it. Trees were uprooted and boats capsized as heavy rain and winds of up to a 180km/h (110mph) hit Danang. "This is one of the most powerful typhoons to hit Vietnam since 1995," Bui Minh Tang of Vietnam's weather centre told AP news agency.'
Taken from the BBC website, 1 October 2006
I was watching the BBC World Service this morning, and saw by chance that a typhoon has hit the coast of Vietnam. The locations hit are all places I visited, or drove through, a couple of weeks back. According to the report Hoi An, where I stayed for several days has been partially evacuated. It sounds as if the damage has turned out to be minimal although a number of fishing fleets are still missing out at sea.
I can't give you any insider information on what's happening other than that nobody in Hanoi seems to be worrying about it, and there's not even a slight breeze up here.
I find it funny that I almost left the country not knowing a thing about it, and am trying my best not to take the news too personally. Afterall, I went through Thailand, and a military coup followed. Now I've been through Vietnam, and natural disaster lies in my wake. Only Cambodia, so far, seems to have survived my visit unscathed. Perhaps Laos, my next country, had better watch out?
I'm waiting for the bus to Laos, which will take me from Hanoi to the Laos capital: Vientiane. I'm killing time until 7pm (it's about 1pm) and I can't do much as I only have the last scratchings of my Vietnamese currency left, and I've also had to check out of my hotel.
I'm looking forward to getting into Laos, and plan to tackle the country differently to Vietnam. In the last four weeks I've overdosed on museums, pagodas, and organised site seeing tours. I've had information bombard me until, on some occasions, it has become meaningless, and I've experienced more exhaustion from all the visits and looking around than I did in either Thailand or Cambodia. Don't get me wrong; I've enjoyed being in Vietnam enormously, and would do it all again much the same way, but I feel it's now time for a bit of a change of tack and to approach things differently.
In Laos I plan to use my time in a more 'activity based' way, and there may be less moving around from place to place. I'm going to spend my time doing things like hill trekking, or cycling, or 'tubing' down rivers. Active things I can personally engage with (as opposed to just looking at) and that will do me good. I don't want to go on anymore organised tours at all for a while (I doubt they exist in Laos anyway), and I'll be picky about which museums and sites I visit. I'm not going anywhere for the sake of it, or under the labour of 'you're only here once, so work yourself to death trying to see absolutely everything while you can.' This way of doing things gets you down after a while.
Anyway, border guards permitting, and whatever my approach, here comes Laos. Here are some interesting facts about the country to wet the appetite:

Full name: Lao People's Democratic Republic
Population: 5.9 million (UN, 2005)
Capital: Vientiane
Area: 236,800 sq km (91,400 sq miles)
Major languages: Lao, French (for diplomatic purposes)
Major religion: Buddhism
Life expectancy: 53 years (men), 56 years (women) (UN)
Monetary unit: 1 new kip = 100 ath
Main exports: Clothing, timber products, coffee
GNI per capita: US $440 (World Bank, 2006)
Internet domain: .la
International dialling code: +856
You'll here from me next when I'm the other side of the border, where I'll be spending my 'kip' on a Beer Lao (the best beer in South East Asia according to some), and booked into one of the cheapest hotels this side of India.