Vietnam’s Gold Coast – Nha Trang and Canada Bound!

We were looking forward to our coastal visit to Nha Trang with visions of prisitine beaches, good snorkelling and maybe some R+R at the end of a whirlwind trip. Like every good expectation, it never quite turns out to be exactly as you’d have hoped. We flew in from Hanoi mid-day and met up with our final guide of the trip – Bi. He was an affable fellow…almost too affable and had an annoying tendency of saying “Oh My God” a lot. Nha Trang is the ‘Gold Coast’ of Vietnam and big dollar tourist developments are popping up all over the place amidst areas of moderate to abject poverty. As you drive in from the airport a large Soviet-era like monument within a massive quadrangle states itself profoundly, indicative of the previous and current strong ties Vietnam has with Russia. One of the largest developments is actually (apparently) owned by a Russian Mafioso who is married to a Vietnamese woman. It adds the theme park to the ‘Gold Coast’ equation and sits on an island off Nha Trang connected by the largest land to land over sea Poma lift in the world. Nha Trang’s greatest claim to fame is its hosting of the Miss World Pageant in 2008 – an event that still holds strong in its marketing of itself with various large banners and signs on the outskirts of town announcing its feat.  We’d been booked into the Yasagaki Saigon Hotel along the main strip – a large pink building which was essentially holding onto its former glory as the host hotel to contestants of the Miss World pageant in 2008 but had since fell slowly into disrepair and the contours of age were getting the better of it. Keen on a swim we found the ground floor pool and jumped in, disregarding the fact that the water was generally cloudy. As I walked along the bottom I could feel the occasional wayward rock and then something a little different – something sharp. I reached down to explore my find and found the bottom of a broken glass. Fortunately it had simply grazed my foot and not done any major damage – needless to say we exited the pool fairly quickly and headed to the beach. Each hotel has its own private beach set up complete with bar and ‘adventure’ desk for para-sailing or jet-ski rentals. The beach was scattered with litter and water appeared more greenish brown than turquoise blue. Aidan and Cole were mixing it up with the locals seemingly roughing or getting roughed up while piling into the surf. Jen and I fought off the ‘z’s and after the boys had had enough, trekked up the beach in search of an ice cream shop. One wasn’t far away and in no time we were digging into our respective choices. Jen and I opted for an Affogato and shortly after the first bite realized we’d been scooped, literally and figuratively, as the ice cream within our treat was our evil friend Mr. ‘Onion’ flavour. Imagine a sort of putrid, sour and bitter taste sensation (especially with the coffee in the mix) which has a tendency to linger for hours after the first insult – such is the character of the Mr. Onion – one I hope never to encounter again. Disappointed with our ice cream tasting we ventured further up the beach and found a microbrewery restaurant in which to enjoy some repast. In a great turn of luck – the beer was the best I had tasted whilst travelling around ‘Nam – fresh, lacking in any chemically tasting overtones and very quaffable. We caught a cab back to the hotel and called it a day.

As has been our tendency, we woke early again and managed to get ourselves fed and ready for our 9 AM pick up to do some water-based sight-seeing and snorkelling. It is currently summer holidays in Vietnam so domestic tourists were everywhere clambouring to find a boat and take a day trip to some of the local sights. The boats were predominantly old beaten up wooden structures with row upon row of wooden seats. Like many transport-related activities in Vietnam, finding and embarking on a boat was chaotic, with other crafts essentially edging themselves to the pier to load up passengers then basically bumping and grinding their way out. It was like a smash up derby with boats. We had a full boat to ourselves for a private tour so didn’t have to grapple for seats which was nice. Our first stop was what our guide called the Vietnamese Titanic – a massive concrete model of a pirate ship complete with eerie looking jaws, skeletons and the appearance as though it had been lifted from the depths. Inside there were a number of smallish aquariums and an assortment of fish – mediocre as aquariums go but still appealing given the mass of intricately sculpted concrete. From here we headed to Mun Island for a snorkel around a small reef. The waters were pleasantly warm and reef surprisingly intact with little bleaching or damage from souvenir hunters. By noon our tour was essentially over so we elected to head to the theme park for a play. The mafia-owned establishment is known as Vinpearl Land and when we arrived was uncannily quiet – at first we were wondering if it was open at all. Piper had been complaining the past few days of being sick and at times did feel a bit warm but was acting her normal self so we didn’t pay much attention. As we reached Vinpearl Land though she was heating up again.  We had a bite to eat (the worst fast food ever – had to apologize to my temple profusely) and then ventured to the water park facility a little further on the path. Piper was still up for a couple slides albeit she was shivering every time I hoisted her up the stairs with her uttering “this will be wicked” – so maintaining her go-lucky gleeful self. It didn’t last long though, within an hour she was assuming the fetal position in Jen’s arms and shortly thereafter began to bring up our tasteless lunch. Needless to say our afternoon was cut a bit short but just in time as the rains just started as we jumped on the Poma Lift across the seaway. Back at the hotel we managed to get her medicated and settled so we could head out for dinner at the microbrewery we enjoyed so much the day before.

Our last day in‘Nam began with a lateish breakfast - Piper seemed a bit better but was still febrile. We spent the morning in the upper pools of the hotel as they seemed the clearest and were less likely to have broken glass cluttering their bottoms, then headed out to find a bakery for some lunch. By the time we had made it to the airport, Piper was heating up again but fortunately kept her cookies in check throughout the flight. Seems we’ve developed a penchant for kids vomiting at airports and Jen seems to be the chosen vomit manager. Piper went well up until our arrival in Saigon where we were in transit for a few hours before our flight to Tokyo. She was burning up so we attempted to dose her again with some Panadol which seemed to only make her gag and induce near projectile emesis. Naturally I wasn’t quick enough finding a suitable bag to catch it all and for the next fifteen minutes attempted to clean up the mess that decorated a couple of our bags and the floor of the departure terminal. She perked up though and was hungry for a spot of dinner a little later - overpriced Ramen noodles - which only lasted a few minutes in her gullet. We eventually did get her to Japan without any further event but as we entered the customs area felt we ought to concede to the signs and took her to the clinic for assessment. Surprise, surprise her temp was down so fortunately she didn’t meet the criteria for Quarantine and we hustled out, found a chemist for some more Panadol and then a hotel to bunk up at for the day. Jen had been pining for true Japanese Sushi – from the source –  but alas her wish was not to be fulfilled. Lunch at the Holiday Inn had nothing but Western and cooked Japanese foods and back at the airport, more of the same – it was tragic! We did find some interesting Japanese sweets though and bought a ‘hamper’ box to bring back to share with family. The final leg of our journey was only an 8 hour flight and had the benefit of personal televisions in the seat backs to enjoy any number of movies or games. Piper was on the up and up (finally!) and like myself, Cole and Aidan didn’t bat an eyelid for the whole flight while Jen attempted to find some respite as best she could given the economy-sized seating arrangements. Landing in Vancouver brought a sense of completeness to our 7 year journey – I actually felt like I was coming home and there was a sense of contentedness that overwhelmed me, ready to take on the new challenges which were about to erupt over the next month or so – finding work, getting settled, etc, etc…It was great to see the parents again and share the children – 6 months virtually unseparated from them has its definite ups and downs and some space was desperately needed on both sides of the fence. It was hard to believe we’d finally made it back to the Great White North – now all we had to do was make it across the country on yet the start of a new adventure – I’ll be sure to keep you posted!

Aidan has a Sick Day, An Ice Cold Ho Chi Min, and then…the Whirlwind of Adventure!

Apologies for the recent chaos. We’ve been struggling to get WiFi and due to a minor dropping accident back in Siem Reap, Cambodia – our good camera’s lens has gone kaput, thereby leaving us with our little Panasonic Snapper and no cord with which to attach and download pictures onto my computer. We eventually got it sorted though – hence the 3 blog posts in a row. I’m up to date on the World Cup now as well – Viva L’Espana!! So – from where we left off we had arrived back in Hanoi – the capital of Vietnam and former headquarters of the Viet Cong headed by the enigmatic and obviously impressionable, commie-to-the-core – Ho Chi Min. He is essentially deified in these parts, with signs and monuments dedicated to him virtually everywhere. The story goes (based on my guide’s historical knowledge) he studied in France and then spent about 30 years travelling around the world learning about how different countries functioned. He became enamoured with Marxist and Leninist theories and returned to Vietnam in 1941 to lead a political movement to oust the French colonialists. By 1945 the French were gone but returned again in 1946 which led to the early makings of the Vietnam War. He died in 1969 at the age of 79 (old for a Vietnamese) and although requesting to be cremated was not granted his dying wish. Instead he was embalmed and 5 years later placed in a massive mausoleum in Hanoi which is supposed to look somewhat like a lotus flower reflecting his continued adherence to Buddhism despite his socialist view of the world (remember Marx – “ Religion is the opiate of the masses”). The massive marble structure looks more like a cubic Parthenon than a flower but to this day it is where he resides. Everyday the mausoleum is open for an hour and a half in the morning to receive visitors. The road in front is cordoned off and cameras and phones barred from entry. Literally thousands of Ho Chi Min fans and tourists take the walk through looking upon his greatness in all its dead glory and you know what – he hasn’t aged a bit! Aidan and Jen were amiss from our visit owing to Aidan’s rip roaring temperature – he’d earned a day in bed so we split up the troops. From Ho Chi Min’s current resting place we ventured through his old office buildings and home then onward to Vietnam’s first university dating back to the 10th century AD. It was a monument to the aspiration for knowledge and education with massive statues of some of the initial ideologues of the time such as Confucius and some related Vietnamese Scholars and teachers. The afternoon took Jen, Cole and Piper to the museum of ethnology which provided a hands on view of some of the cultures of Vietnam such as the Hmong while Aidan and I held down the fort, catching up on the blog and dealing with the raging fever which eventually abated. Feeling he was on the up and up, we forced him out of bed and off to the Water Puppet Show a 10 minute walk up the street. He managed alright, albeit with a bit of grumbling and made it right to the end of the show before emptying his stomach contents discretely into a bag out in the foyer – all class. We took one of the rickshaw rides home as he wasn’t up to walking and put him back to bed with a large dose of Ibuprofen. Our treatment seemed to work though and by morning he’d turned the corner and was almost as good as new. It was a good thing as we were off to Ha Long Bay for a night on the South China Sea.

It takes a good 3 to 4 hours to travel 150kms to Ha Long Bay due to the chaotic traffic conditions and speed limit of only 40-80 km/h. We stopped about 2/3rds of the way for a refreshment at a road side Vietnamese Souvenir/tourist shop filled with massive marble sculptures, incredibly intricate needle-point pictures, traditional clothing, jewellery and a café. Most of the artistry is done by victims of land mines, all of whom are missing either a limb or digit here or there – simply amazing. Ha Long Bay is essentially a tourist port with numerous ‘junk’ boats – not really ‘junk’ at all as we found out but beautiful wooden boats with luxurious cabins and decks to motor around the numerous karsts jutting abruptly 100’s of vertical metres out of the sea. We settled into our air conditioned cabins and powered over to a floating village to visit a massive arching cave at the base of one of these karsts. Our tour guides were these tiny Vietnamese women who didn’t speak a word, simply rowed their small reed-woven boats around the village and back to the pier from whence we started. The Victory Star (our ‘junk’) has a couple of dragon boats moored in this area and part of the day’s festivities was to split the tourist squad into two teams for a race. Naturally, Jen and my team conquered with boat lengths to spare – wasn’t difficult with most of these out of shape Europeans! Dinner was 5 courses ie) way too much food but delicious just the same. Bloated and tired from our recent exploits we had one quick attempt to fish for some squid off the back of the boat (without success) then sunk into our beds and slept in until the sun began peaking through our blinds unrelentingly. Our second day on the boat brought us to one of the largest caverns I’ve ever seen. Along with hundreds of other tourists, we ascended the steps and entered the chasm, venturing deeper and deeper into its core, listening to our jovial tour guide point out the different stalactite shapes and their animal or phallic representations. From there we headed back to shore and a drive back to Hanoi to prepare for a night train to Lao Cai and couple day trip to Sapa and surrounds.

Lao Cai is 9 hours by train from Hanoi up in the north-west of the country. The A/C cabin with four bunks fit us snugly and although sleep came quick to the kids and Jen, I tossed and turned, struggling to find comfort on the platform-like beds listening to the constant rattle of the clackity train. We arrived at 5:30 in the morning and were immediately met by our new guide Zung. A sleepy drive up to Sapa gave us a bit of steam to enjoy a buffet breakfast and head out the door to acquire some proper rubber boots for our trekking. It was drizzling when we exited the restaurant so we pulled out our multi-coloured rain ponchos and truly looked the part of the ill-prepared traveller. All but I were able to find appropriately sized footwear – Jen really liked the black tall-boot look. A short jaunt up the road took us to beautifully green terraced valleys spreading out in all directions as far as the eye could see. Finding our path, we ventured down to the valley floor being followed the whole time by Hmong women or young girls wishing to sell us intricately designed handbags, woven bracelets and other trinkets. By mid-afternoon we had finally made it to our homestay residence in a place called Tavan, 3 or so kilometres from the main road. Our hosts we’re some wonderfully accommodating Vietnamese with 4 young children in and around our children’s ages. Although language was an issue we seemed to hit it off quite well and settled into our new surroundings. In the distance we could see a large structure which looked to be almost like the inner framework of a tepee but on closer inspection occasionally had kids swinging on it from a large central platform. Keen to check it out our hosts’ children escorted us down the path and we all had a go. The tiny Hmong girls selling bracelets could get it really moving with little if any fear whatsoever. I had a go and it was laughable – seems it takes a bit of practice. Our guide joined us later to take us to the river for a swim – unfortunately the swimming area was essentially an open area of a rather fast moving water and after some tom-foolery Cole just so happened to slip off the rock upon which we were sitting into a serious rapid, holding on for dear life. As I quickly tried to grab him I accidentally pushed Aidan on top of Cole – so then there were two. It didn’t take long though and I had both out – Aidan with a couple of abrasions but essentially both no worse for wear. Back up at the house, we introduced the host kids to some Uno and began to help out with making dinner. Cole was right into helping prepare the duck while Jen took on the spring rolls. Dinner was a feast of Vietnamese dishes – far beyond any of our capacity and was interrupted by not infrequent “Mo, Hi, Ba, Zo!!” shots of homemade rice wine made by our host. They seemed to like the rice wine and attempted to seduce me into liking it as much – fortunately I pulled through with some reserve insight and resisted further doses ….after the first 5 or 6 of course – one has to be accommodating in these circumstances. Our beds were up in the loft of the house and consisted of thin mattresses, some bed coverings and a mosquito net overhead – only slightly more comfortable than the beds on the train but I did manage to get some sleep. The next day we were treated to a thin pancake or crepe breakfast and then bid our hosts adieu, trekking up the road through the rice paddies, a bamboo forest, past a water fall and back to the main road some 5-6kms from where we had started …and Piper did it all! The track so thin in parts and up and down it would have been impossible to carry her without losing our balance so the little trooper forged on – a little disgruntled but unbowed. Needless to say she was a tad tuckered by the end and had a good snooze as soon as we caught our ride back to town. We had a few hours to poke around before heading back to Lao Cai and another night train back to Hanoi so checked out the Sunday market and hob-knobbed with many a prying yet peaceful Hmong – often wishing us to buy some of their handicrafts. We were able to sell our rubber boots back to the store where we had purchased them and gave our new umbrellas to a poor Hmong woman with a sordid history of maternal woe which she spilled in great detail to Jen as they walked along. The train ride back to Hanoi was as bad as the initial journey, pushing me nearly to delirium with the caustic voice of Axel Rose filtering through my subconscious at times with his rendition of “I’m on a night train…” – echoes of a misspent youth and questionable musical tastes. Fortunately, our program had us set up in a day hotel when we returned from Lao Cai and we were able to shower, catch up on some sleep and become human again before venturing to the airport for a flight to Nha Trang – the last port on our journey.

The Luang Prabang Museum, One sick boy and Onward to Hanoi!

When you embark on a trip such as this you often expect some funny tummy bugs to befall you, you just hope the infection you get is minor and clears up quickly. We’d taken all the precautions, had our acidophilus dust to lower our risk and been virtually hygiene-nazi-esque in dolling out the hand cleaner and trying to keep the kids from doing anything that might put them at risk. Admittedly, sometimes our instructions have been misunderstood or forgotten as quickly as they’ve been said and absolute indiscretions have been taken – Cole being the worst of the perpetrators. Unbelievably he’s the only one who has avoided much tummy rumblings (knock on wood). Aidan has fallen in a veritable heap but managed to stagger around with us to the Luang Prabang Museum on our last morning in Laos. The museum is housed in the former King’s residence and displays a number of artefacts from the royal era as well as the Prabang solid gold Buddha – from which Luang Prabang has derived its name. We managed to get Piper to try walking in the morning and her confidence has increased immeasurably – she’s a hard girl to keep down – so now we’ll be likely back to chasing her rather than pushing or carrying her along. We decided to take some free time after the museum and hung out along the Mekong at a café until we were meant to meet up with ‘Do’ again for our trip to the airport. Jen and I took turns with either Piper or Cole checking out the tourist/souvenir shops but nothing appealed all that much – I think the shopping urge has been purged from us almost entirely. Aidan languished in the heat taking up 3 chairs to lie down and catch some shut eye. We managed to get to the airport and on the plane without much ado and only ran into a hitch when filling out the entry declaration papers and deciding whether to tick the box on Aidan’s form indicating whether or not he had symptoms of nausea or diarrhea – he didn’t currently ie) on the flight – and he did seem to be improving so we indicated ‘No’ on the form and covertly encouraged him to not announce his malaise as we were trying to get through customs. All fared well and we managed our way through the airport to find Quyen (Quin) our next guide for Hanoi and Ha Long Bay. The temperature was Aussie-Hot which Quyen liked to describe as ‘excellent’ hot – another Vietnamesism perhaps and sat at about 38 to 40 degrees with 75% or higher humidity – near stifling. The drive took us past massive factories of companies like Canon or Panasonic – obviously taking advantage of the people resource and cheap labour. On entry to the city lies a massive archway not dissimilar to the Arch de Triomphe in France. The streets seemed to be gradually getting narrower and narrower, busier and busier the deeper we travelled into the city. We eventually arrived at our hotel – the Maison D’Hanoi and checked in without ado. Aidan was nearly crawling by this stage and we brought him upstairs, drugged him up with Ibuprofen and put him to bed. Having been without TV for a couple of days – Cole and Piper became immediately glued to Monsters Inc. which was playing on Disney and were undetachable until it was over and dinnertime had arrived. Whilst Jen ventured out with Cole and Piper for a bite to eat, Aidan and I made the best of our little pad and ordered in. He seemed to perk up over some spaghetti bolognaise but it didn’t last long – soon he was shivering again and making visits to what the Vietnamese call the ‘Happy Place’ – the WC or toilet. With any luck, the boy will turn the corner soon and be back on track for the rest of the trip.

Up the Mekong without a paddle, Pottery fun, and Crystal Clear Waterfalls

We rose early to take in the Buddhist monk procession at 5:30 AM. Not wanting to leave the kids alone in their rooms, Jen and I took turns visiting the main street to see the ochre robes walking up the street. I was a little early and was almost immediately accosted by a couple of women who had made banana-leaf covered rice to offer to the procession of monks. I was still in my pyjamas and hadn’t brought any money with me so had to run back to my room for some. The money is difficult to read as it uses some Laos characters on one side and English numerals on the other. When I first returned to the street I had brought too little to pay for the plates of food I was to offer so had to run back for more. I didn’t have exact change so ended up paying more than was asked, much to the glee I’m sure of these two women who had obviously discovered an entrepreneurial way to make offerings to the monks while also taking in some quid from the foreign tourists. I tagged up with Jen and she ventured to the road meeting the same women and ironically running into the same difficulty with the currency. As the monks proceeded down the street in single file fashion they would open their offering can and you would deposit one of your banana-leaf wraps, or whatever food you had on offer, inside. The monks would then return to their temples and divy up the food for the day.

We met up with our guide shortly after breakfast, picked up some supplies for lunch then saw one more temple before venturing down a market lane selling food stuffs such as buffalo skin, large catfish from the Mekong and fruits and veg. From there we caught a long traditional passenger boat to take us downstream to a pottery village and further on to meet up with our driver again for a short drive to Khoungasi Falls and Ban Thapen, where we would be staying the night. The boys were able to get some hands-on experience with some clay and pottery-making while Jen and I reminisced about our former lives in places like Guatemala or Guyana and how similar the buildings, roads and rudimentary structures of living compared. There wasn’t much difference at all in terms of the buildings and hygienic conditions and the kids were just as cute and lovable. The kiln for the pottery has been built underground and can fit up to 100 pots. Once the pots have been placed, firewood is placed all around them and eventually lit and burnt for up to 3 weeks. The blacker the pot, the better apparently so when they came out of the kiln and were still brownish, they would be painted in black paint so as to earn a higher price at the market.



The waterfalls are obviously one of the highlights of the tourist operators as, aside from many locals, there were hordes of Caucasian, Japanese and other Asian country foreigners taking in the cooler, crystal clear blue waters cascading over beautifully smooth limestone waterfalls. At the entrance of the ‘park’ which requires all foreigners to pay a fee for entry, lies an Asian Black Bear rescue centre which was currently holding about 8 to 10 of the bears. Their stature is just shy of the North American Black bear and they appeared much less frightening. We hiked up to the tallest fall and ogled its limestone features and 100 metre drop, then scampered back down the path to the main pool, complete with rope swing and deep enough water to jump off some limestone reliefs. The kids were keen on the rope swing so I followed and helped retrieve the rope when it was out of reach. On my second go I lost my balance and had to go with the flow of the rope. Unfortunately it was shortly after a local had taken the plunge and not wanting to land on them I held on to the rope which pendulum-ed me back to the tree from whence I had come. A little slow on the reflexes I neglected to straighten my legs in order to bounce gently off the trunk but rather took the brunt of the swing on my left knee, hearing a definitive ‘Ooo, aahh’ from the on-lookers and then jumping into the water below. It was admittedly sore as I swam to the shoreline and when I strode non-chalantly but painfully over to Jen, noticed a small trickle of blood emanating from my knee as well. Fortunately it was only a small scratch and once back at our new ‘villa’, fixed it up with a simple band-aid. Our villa was only a hop-skip and jump from the waterfalls and was quite rudimentary in design, with wooden walls, a couple of homemade beds and a veranda. Not four or five star but nice just the same as only 10 metres from our door ran the lower reaches of the falls and a constant low-level noise of water bubbling and boiling down its nether reaches. After some lunch and journal work we made our way back up to the lower pools of the falls and had another cool off in the water. It was about this time that Aidan began to look a tad pale – his ‘sick’ look, but since he was still enjoying himself tumbling over logs and what have you, we took little notice. Back at the villa we changed into our long pants and shirts for dinner to avoid any mossie bites and headed to the dining area adjacent the running brook/falls. It might just be me but I have an aversion to fish which is presented to me essentially just gutted and cooked – looking essentially like it has just been caught, thrown in the oven and then onto a plate. Our hosts brought out our dinner which was comprised of a chicken curry, noodle soup and a couple of these whole fish. Aidan wasn’t hungry, which given the look of the fish, wasn’t suprising and again we paid no heed, although he was starting to look a bit unwell. Exhausted from the long day, we crawled into our beds and while the kids slept soundly, Jen and I tossed and turned, worried about potential mossie bites as we had no nets and because the beds were simply uncomfortable. It wasn’t until very early the next morning that Aidan announced his illness loud and clear – it seemed the dreaded gastro had somehow found him and was about to make his (and our) life somewhat complicated.

Torture at the Hands of a masseuse, Goodbye to Mr Kimh and onward to Luang Prabang, Laos.

Piper’s injury has left Jen and I the task of having to carry her virtually everywhere and unfortunately my back has given in before hers, leaving her with the bulk of the lugging around. Given we were in ‘masseuse central’ I decided to take our morning off and see if they could fix my back. I wasn’t sure what I had got myself into as when I entered the establishment I was led upstairs to a reddish room and directed to lie down on a mattress adjacent a number of others and a pink silk curtain was pulled. Fortunately the masseuse arrived fully clothed in her regular attire and proceeded to attack my back. “You like it strong” she said and I gave my consent – not sure that was the wisest thing to do in the end as despite her small stature, her thumbs were like jack-hammers – poking and prodding every miniscule myotome on my back. I’m sure she left her fingerprints amidst all the bruising. I discovered my main pressure point was actually distracting the pain from other painful muscle groups in my lower back and hoped my suffering would pay some dividends once the 30 minutes were up. Feeling like tenderized meat, I left to catch up with the family back at the hotel and help organize for our departure later in the day. In the end, my pummelling actually made my main pain worse and I sought refuge in ibuprofen and the occasional thumb into the pressure point.
Countries like Cambodia. Laos and Vietnam have developed a racket in landing visas and departure taxes from foreigners. It actually cost us more to leave Cambodia than enter it! Our Australian passports came in handy on entering Laos though as Asian Pacific Countries had the lowest entry visa cost - $30 US per person vs $42 US for Canadians. Yet another benefit to barrack for the green and gold! We landed in Luang Prabang, the former capital of the Kingdom of Laos, and again – like clockwork – met up with our new guide and driver – ‘Do’ and ‘Knee’ (our driver) (not their actual names). We’d been put up in a colonial-styled French villa near the centre of town and having checked in headed up the street for a quick bite at a very trendy and Westernized bakery which actually had Nanaimo Bars – chocolate covered layered squares with a creamy and chocolate biscuit layer beneath – absolutely delectable and I presume originating from Vancouver Island (where Nanaimo is located). Our afternoon took us to some paper and silk spinning/weaving artisans, various local temples and up to the top of the central ‘hill’ or mountain in town to view the sunset. Whilst at the paper-making facility we started to hear the pounding of drums from up the street. Keen to see where the sound was coming from, Cole, Aidan, the guide and I trudged up the road to the Buddhist temple. It was a call to the Buddhist monks living there to begin their chores. Shaved heads, ochre robes and anywhere between the ages of 7 to their 60’s plus, the monks were in the process of sweeping and cleaning up their temple. We managed to find one young looking fellow to have a photo with the boys – he was just taller than Cole and shorter than Aidan but was 12 yrs old! Like other temples we were to visit, it was ornately painted in gold leaf and contained a large golden-painted Buddha inside surrounded by a number of smaller Buddhas, purportedly gifts from those that visited the temple. The 386 steps to the top of the hill (and back down again) nearly wrecked poor Jen with Piper perched on her back. At the top, a man was releasing birds as a symbolic gesture of peace and goodwill and Cole, like the true sticky-beak he is, eventually got into the thick of it and tried to release one himself only to find the poor thing had broken a leg and couldn’t make it out of the cage. We made it back to the bottom as darkness fell, right into the seemingly never ending market stalls of the weekly night markets. It had your typical market products such as t-shirts, textiles and antiques as well as opium trade and smoking paraphernalia. Jen inadvertently started poking around at a stall and asked our guide about some bizarre-looking apparati which, as it turned out, were containers and scales with which to carry and sell the opium. The elaborately designed and decorated pipes were quite aesthetic with dragons, snakes and incredible carvings around their elongated shafts. Apparently Laos used to be one of the largest exporters of opium in the world and, as per our guide’s account, almost 70% of the population used to be addicted to the drug which resulted in social chaos. Since 1995 the government has clamped down on the trade and essentially caused its collapse. If someone is caught growing or in possession of the drug they are subject to the death penalty.

The people in Luang Prabang (named after and in reverence of a 1st century AD golden Buddha now housed at the state museum) overall seemed a bit over the whole tourism thing but were generally pleasant and kind. Back from the markets we ventured out for dinner and found a place called the 3 Nagas just up the road. Nagas are mythical creatures which are part dragon and snake. They have become part of the architecture of many buildings, carved into the main outer beams at the corners of the roof as protectors of the building/temple. This restaurant was one of three buildings owned by the proprietor, hence the name, and served some of the best food we’d had all trip – although most of it has been exquisite! The steamy night came to a close as we made our way back to our rooms past our villa’s large screen TV broadcasting the world cup in the main entrance courtyard. Germany were ahead by one goal over Argentina – looked like our pick wasn’t going to prevail in this contest.

A Holiday in Cambodia….

An early start and trip to the airport began the day. With sad goodbyes to our guide Tri, we shuffled off to the Vietnam Airlines counter. Our attendant promptly informed us that our flight had been changed to Cambodia Angkor Airlines and we were herded across the floor to another attendant that hadn’t opened yet. We were obviously waiting for the desk to open, two young boys and a girl with an obvious foot injury requiring carrying by her parents. The desk next to where we were standing opened and no sooner had it done so than some self-absorbed overweight family of Swiss decided it was more important for them to jump the queue and approached the counter first – even when I said ‘Hey’ to alert him to our being there first, didn’t seem to make a difference. To make it worse, we moved our gear over to the initial desk line and within a couple minutes the next desk opened with some French fellow and his three girlfriends again budding in front – not even batting an eye towards our obviously overloaded hands of kids – it was unbelievable! We must be too Canadian or perhaps wearing a sticker on our foreheads indicating that we are push-overs – that or other people are simply completely unaware of what it’s like to try to occupy 3 young children in an airline line up. Wasn’t a great start to our Cambodian adventure but things were to improve considerably.

Our dual prop 30 or so seater with only a dozen or so passengers, some quite video camera overzealous, capturing everything from airport gates to grandchildren sleeping or walking the corridor of the plane. Our inconsiderate French friends from check in weren’t much better, filming or snapping virtually everything they encountered. It’s funny how we wish to capture these moments in time either as a badge to acknowledge passage to these incredible areas of the world and their sights or as a seemingly visual recording of our life’s novella. Sometimes it’s simply the beauty or aesthetic of the object being witnessed that compels me, like photographing it somehow makes it partially mine – perhaps it’s the same with others? Once landed in Siem Reap we found our new guide, Mr Kimh, and driver waiting patiently for our arrival. They dropped us at our hotel, the Somadevi Angkor Hotel, in the middle of town and we quickly checked in, got caffeinated and joined Mr Kimh for our tour through some of the temple structures around Angkor Wat and Thom.

The history of this place is actually quite interesting spanning centuries, numerous invasions, entire religious conversions, abandonment and rediscovery. The whole area of temple and ancient structures spans some 410 square kilometres. Angkor means ‘capital’ and Wat – ‘monastery’ and it is the largest religious temple complex in the world, occupying 81 hectares of grounds within its walls. Thom means city and within the city walls there are a number of different temples and historical structures relevant to different Kings and eras. The earliest temples we visited were from the 10th century – over 1000 years ago – and contained amazing bas reliefs depicting stories and images of Hindu or Buddhist symbols and motifs. Symbolism was incredibly important it seemed during their construction and all the temples either face the East or West depending on the beliefs of the King who had contracted to have them built. Angkor Thom has gates at each of the cardinal points, a massive moat that surrounds the inner grounds (dug by hand and previously inhabited by crocodiles) and a number of different temples built by different kings. The Wat is as impressive, with a moat 100 metres wide surrounding it and a myriad of gradually escalating buildings which peak towards the rear of the complex. Most of the windows are decorated with 7 pillars to represent the days of the week, 12 central staircases represent the months and there are exactly 365 stairs (although I didn’t count) to represent the days of the year. Again, it faces west to take in the rising sun. The carvings along the walls are incredibly intricate and span from floor to ceiling for 100s of metres at a time – it is almost inconceivable how such incredible works of art were fashioned and survived the tolls of time. Many of the outer temples have been ravaged by the forest with trees and roots gradually causing the structures to collapse. Due to different invasions from Siam (now Thailand) and other neighbouring countries the majestic kingdoms of Angkor eventually fell and these sites were abandoned and forgotten in about the 14th century. It wasn’t until the 19th century when a French elephant hunter was chasing an elephant through the jungle and noticed that it went around a corner and disappeared from sight as if it had gone into a cave. As he rounded the bend and had a look, he discovered remnants of a temple complex with trees and foliage essentially covering and poking out through the bricks. Restoration of the different temples began shortly after this discovery but was abandoned again during the Vietnam War when incursions began to spread into Cambodia. Currently there are a number of different countries funding and working on restoring the various structures as close to their original majesty as possible. It looks like one massive jigsaw puzzle with large, broken sandstone and volcanic bricks (which formed the core structure) lying haphazardly both inside and around the different temples.

By the end of our first day with Mr Kimh we had visited about 7 or 8 sites and were completely exhausted. We returned to our hotel to get cleaned up, write some journals and prepare for dinner at a local Cambodian Culture Buffet restaurant just up the road. It was a great way to sample a number of different Cambodian dishes, listen to live traditional music and view some classical dances. It was interesting though as the male dancers looked like your average good looking socialite you’d expect to see playing footie or surfing rather than engaging in traditional dance ensembles. The people here are incredibly accommodating and seemingly content with a perpetual smile on their faces despite their hardships and poverty and I would gesticulate that the reason these fellows have taken to the dance isn’t necessarily for a love of their culture or dance per se but rather that owing to their coordination and sporting finesse they can earn a much healthier salary this way plus bask in the glory of masses of foreigners transfixed by their abilities. During our visits to the temples we have not infrequently encountered small mobs of very persistent children selling bracelets, reed-woven ornaments and other knickknacks. Their persistence is such that they will even threaten crying and may offer their entire stock for a US Dollar if necessary while clawing at the window of your van. Needless to say we’ve essentially got Christmas presents for the family covered now.

Day two started with a short helium-filled balloon ride just outside of Angkor Wat. The balloon was tethered to the ground by a large cable which would winch it down to the ground to let people on and then allow the balloon to rise about 100 metres in the air. From the apex of the ride we could look out over the entrance of Angkor Wat and take in some of the surrounding countryside in its classically quilted texture of rice fields. From there Mr. Kimh guided us through Angkor Wat and the other half of Angkor Thom with its Elephant and Leper Terraces, the Red Palace and adjoining King’s swimming pool which he provided for his 7 Queens and 100 or so concubines. Sweaty and spent again, our guide took us back to town past some silk-weaving and silver jewellery artisans and through the main market/restaurant/pub area of town. Back at our hotel we donned swimming gear and popped into the pool for a refreshing dip, having competitions on how long we could hold our breath under water. We still had an afternoon to wander so ventured out into the markets, had our feet massaged and exfoliated by fish in large tanks, suffered the accosting of a few more street urchins selling their wares and ended up at a Cambodian BBQ restaurant to sample some snake and crocodile amongst other meats and veg. With darkness falling we caught a ‘tuk tuk’ back to the hotel and called it a night. This touring of Southeast Asian countries really takes it out of you.

 

Foreign flavours, the Mekong Delta NarBUG ride and the War Remnants Museum

There are some things you just don’t expect when you purchase an ice cream overseas. One assumes all the regular flavours enjoyed in one country are likely those enjoyed in another – not the case. On leaving the Cuchi Tunnels yesterday we were feeling the heat and decided it was time for an ice cream. There were a yellow one, a green one and two purples available and we assumed this would mean lemon, maybe lime and perhaps mixed berry or something close. Aidan was the unlucky sap who had the yellow one and at once nearly spat it out and passed it to Mom who then tasted it and quickly passed it onto me with a rather horrid sour look on her face. The look had nothing to do with any tartiness but rather the abhorrent flavour itself. It tasted for all intents and purposes like onion – not bad with a burger or in a salad – terrible as ice cream. Jen and I (and probably Aidan) couldn’t help but taste the oniony ice cream for the rest of the day as it seemed to cause some disquiet along the digestive track and we kept belching it back every now and then. Another oddity noticed on the way back from Cuchi was an older gent riding his moped desperately trying to balance a mossie coil (alight) on his head – seems he really didn’t want the mossies attacking him while he drove to wherever he was going.

A good nights sleep without the intrusion of a our youngest and most sleep depriving of our children left us refreshed and ready for our planned trip to the Mekong Delta for a bike ride and sight-see. It took us about an hour or so to arrive at the tourist ferry terminal to take us across the Mekong to a Coconut Candy factory and the start of our cycling adventure. It was a busy thoroughfare with dredging boats collecting sand and then depositing it on massive floats to be pushed by tugs onwards to Saigon for the building trade. Flotillas of fishing boats lay in port, apparently waiting out the month due to seasonal rough conditions. We passed through the four small islands in the vicinity named for various animals which symbolize different virtues of greatest importance to the Vietnamese, namely the Tortoise (longevity), the Unicorn (luck and happiness?), the Dragon (power) and the Phoenix (prosperity). One island was decorated with what looked like a strange amusement park associated with the hotel located there. Our guide explained that the area was previously owned or run by a coconut religious cult which had been banned by the government – the cult leader was said to preach that his followers and self should survive only off of coconuts – I think he may have been a little coconut himself – perhaps where the term ‘nuts’ originated in reference to crazy people. Once landed we briefly toured the candy factory, tasted the wares which were absolutely delectable, enjoyed a quick nip of cobra distilled rice liquor (tasted like grain alcohol – nothing special really) and then met our team of cycling guides. The kids had to double or ‘dickie’ (the Oz version) with Jen, Tri, and I which was a novel and in retrospect, rather dodgy proposition. We went quite well although the numerous bumps encountered en route did give rise to some ‘ouches’ from our passengers. We developed some more cycling warning calls, adeptly crying out “motorbike back” or “moped carrying chickens back”. Our technical skills and anxiety was tested on a larger roadway with transport vehicles commonly veering into our path in order to pass slower moving vehicles on the other side. All was going well and near completion when Jen’s precious cargo (Piper) decided to put her foot too close to the turning wheel, inadvertently jamming her poor little heal between the back fork and spokes. I was in the process of stopping for the ice cream man and when I turned around could see something had happened to Piper fifty meters back. Our guide was in a bit of a panic, not used to injuries to pretty little blonde girls on his trips – I’m sure he was thinking he was about to lose his job. With much ado some cotton wool was thrown at me and when our guide returned I sent him off again for some simple band-aids and sticking plaster. Piper’s wound was more of a graze than anything but covered her entire heal with some bruising around her ankle. A few lollies, a good clean with our drinking water and we dressed it up as best we could with some sterile gauze gleaned from some shop up the road. Feeling very sorry for herself we eventually managed to get her to our next stop, a small snack bar with traditional singers, some honey-infused jasmine tea and copious tropical fruits which seemed to lift her spirits. To make it back to our drop off point we hired a lift on a moped and did the Vietnamese double (or triple I guess) with Piper clinging to me like a koala bear. The traumatic experience zapped her energy and once back to the mainland she crashed like a 20 kg bag of rice.

Travelling with a local guide and driver has some immense benefits as they know where the off-track hidden tourist refuges and restaurants lie. For lunch we ended up at a little oasis restaurant tucked away off the main road – veritably hidden from the common passer by. I think its speciality is the Elephant Ear fish – a fresh water fish apparently found only in the Mekong Delta. They brought it to the table in an elaborate fashion with the fish fully cooked yet held upright by some reinforced shallots on a bed of fresh raw vegetables and lettuce. Our server then prepared it for us and wrapped it in rice paper with assorted ‘greenage’ for us to enjoy. Like most foods here in 'Nam, the wraps came with a dip – fish sauce with roasted sesame seeds. Tri explained that with most foods the Vietnamese try to incorporate a bit of Yin and Yang, thereby attributing the food with some sort of mystical balance. The Elephant Ear fish being fresh water and fish sauce derived from salt water was reflective of this unity and balance.

Back into Saigon, we made our way to the War Remnants Museum – a monument and incredibly vivid and graphic depiction of the conflict that ravaged this country for 17 years. Not being a Vietnam War Scholar, I had much to learn and my sponge was ready to soak it all up. The ‘war’ essentially began in the 1950’s after the Geneva Treaty had been signed and Vietnam’s colonizer, France, had agreed to leave the country and allow it to work towards democratically ruling itself. The US were secretly unhappy by all this as it was in this juncture of history that communistic paranoia ran rampant within the US’s governing and military establishment. In conjunction with the South Vietnamese government, the US essentially led a secret war, militarizing and providing both troops and equipment to the Republic of South Vietnam to combat the North communistic regime. Eisenhower was the first to break the Geneva Treaty in this regard and his predecessor, JFK continued the ‘secret war’, not wishing to escalate the insurgency – a decision that likely contributed to his assassination. Once out of power, LBJ took the reigns and in 1965 started the overt Vietnam War. By 1973, the US had started to realize they were fighting a losing battle and began their retreat, culminating in the eventual taking of the Reunification Palace on April 30th, 1975 by the North Vietcong and the end of the war. During the war over 3 million Vietnamese lost their lives with approximately 2 million suffering significant injuries. In contrast, the US lost 58,000 lives with 300,000 injured. It cost the US twice the amount of their involvement in the Second World War – some 64 billion dollars and left a legacy of suffering to Vietnam. The museum was essentially a collection of photographic depictions of the war and included incredibly gruesome photos of US atrocities of war. The ramifications of Agent Orange on the populace were also displayed, with images and stories of children/adults born to parents exposed to its toxins during the war. It was nauseatingly brutal to see, leaving Jen and I aghast and nearly sick to our stomachs in reverence of the immense harm and trauma perpetrated to these incredibly jovial and peaceful people. It was a strong argument for peace and reminder of the incredible cruelty and evil that war brings. In retrospect, the war here was simply an exorbitant waste of resources and humanity almost beyond comprehension. On a good note, the reference of Khe San by Cold Chisel finally twigged – although I’m still not sure why the song has used this town in the northern part of South Vietnam for their song title – I thought the song was about the last train out of Sydney?

Full of remorse and exhausted from the experience we sauntered back to our van and had a short trip back to the hotel to prepare ourselves for dinner and an early night. Tri had recommended a restaurant called the Temple, just a couple blocks from where we ate last night. As usual we didn’t know what to expect and upon accidentally stumbling upon it, found it incredibly appealing, with bare brick walls and elaborate Asian décor. The food was exquisite and if we were to stay in Saigon for long would easily make it one of our favourite dining venues but alas we have to move on. Tomorrow we fly to Siem Reap in Cambodia to take in the wonders of Angkor Wat – should be absolutely enlightening.