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Welcome to my travel log! You will find here a lot more than in the travel reports, stripped from political correctness. Enjoy! 
Dec 30, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - Hanoi; New Year's Eve
I chose to come back to Hanoi for the New Year’s Eve hopeful there would be plenty of places to party or maybe even a street party or parade. It was an important element of the holiday planning and many other things depended on the fact that I wanted to be in Hanoi for that particular night. Now, I realise that this was not the best strategy.
In fact, there was nothing really happening on the night of 31 December. I understand that in Asia, there are different calendars and the Julian’s New Year is not heavily celebrated, but it was still, internationally recognised last day of the year.
There were small local evenings in numerous restaurants and cafés, but nothing like the one in Antigua Guatemala, which was the best New Year Street Party that I ever been to. I guess I will now be looking for a second best or even better party around the world – Antigua Guatemala is the key benchmark now. That could truly be my weakness – overly judgemental about the New Year parties.
In time, I stumbled across a Jazz Club, which was more like a Jazz Café or Jazz Bar, because it was a full menu eatery. It was located on of the main streets, which is running through the entire (almost) Old Quarter and ending at the Hoam Kiem Lake. Actually, the venue was situated at this very part of the street that I have successfully omitted on my many other (planned and unplanned) visits in this area.
Obviously, it was packed solid with an international and local clientele, and only a few stools were free at the bar, one of which I used. It was still around 10 o’clock at night and two hours to go. I decided to take it easy and started sipping Tiger Beer, very slowly.
I think I managed to stand with this one bottle for about an hour, and I must admit that never in my life before did I drink one bottle of beer so slowly. However, my strategy was not to get sloshed too quickly as I had a whole bottle of champagne in my small day backpack waiting to be opened at midnight. I bought it in a store nearby. It was not real champagne, but Russian sparkling wine.
The Jazz Café played very interesting music, and sometimes it was even good. It was a live jazz band playing instrumentals with astonishing bravura. I was impressed with their abilities and I could not get over the fact that they all were Vietnamese guys. I admired their love to this American music, despite the history Vietnam has with the US.
The bartender was very bossy towards other bar personnel but he knew what he was doing. The barguests kept ordering a wide range of sophisticated drinks and he could do them all. Towards them, he was very but polite and courteous. He had also, what is not common amongst the Vietnamese, a good, firm and friendly handshake, an important element of bar tendering!
I kept sipping my beer slowly, but I could not do it forever, so at around 11.30 pm, I left the bar and wandered down to the lake to see if there was anything happening over there.
The lake was a popular place that night, and there were plenty of people sitting on the benches, and around the lake, walking and riding their bikes.
Right outside the Ngoc Son Temple, there was a large stage giving grounds to the open-air concert. The quality of music was however, miserable and the sound system was mediocre, and I did not enjoy it particularly. I noticed also that many of the locals swarming around the stage did not like it excessively, just chatted and hung around with friends rather than listening and jumping to the music.
At midnight, hot air paper balloons went high into the sky. That was, I think, the best part of the celebrations of the New Year coming. There were many of the small balloons and they were quite successful flying very high.
And of course, I opened the bottle of champagne, but there was nobody, who would be interested in drinking it with me despite considerable crowd. In such circumstances, I decided to go the Red Mask Bar, whose co-owner I already met the other day. The bar is very cosy and kinda cute. The boys who run it are very friendly and they definitely enjoy running it. As I brought the champagne, we all had some.
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Dec 29, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - Halong Bay; day one
I expected that the escapade to the Halong Bay would most be one of the highlights of the entire holiday, and I was not wrong.
Let’s start from the beginning however. The trip was again late 45 minutes and I was biting my fingernails to the bone. Silly me, I should have been already acclimatised, should I not? Never enough of adrenaline, right?
Well, as their arrived the delay was blamed on traffic, which this time I was more than prepared to believe – I just need to look at the disorder in the streets. I was actually impressed how well the driver could navigate with the bus around those narrow alleys of the Old Quarter. As I hated the motorbikers and scooter gorillas whilst on the streets walking, this time I was actually concerned about their safety. Our bus driver was kind enough to blow the horn 360 times a minute, but he was not slowing down at all. I just hoped that together with the abnormal sense of persistence to stay on the road and be first at the front of anyone else, the bikers had also good hearing.
The guide, Dan, was very northern Vietnamese – proud of its country almost as he was part of the socialistic apparatus. However, he was quite friendly, patient, courteous and very knowledgeable about the area and the history of Indochina – knowing many important dates and names.
He was a petit Vietnamese guy with a nice smile. Later, he revealed that actually, he was a High School teacher and guiding was an additional activity of his to provide him with a bit better income.
I did not realise that it was quite a hike to the gulf. As I left Hanoi at 9 o’clock in the morning, it took until lunch time to arrive at the town of Ha Long. The scenery on the way was not at all fascinating. It comprised of a motorway for a good portion of the route and then rice fields up to the horizon. I have seen plenty of rice paddies in the south, so these did not thrill me particularly.
When I finally arrived at the Halong Bay, I was faced with an inconceivable fog. It bound the whole gulf and it was simply impossible to photograph any of it. Weather was not bad though, because the sun was coming through from behind of a thin layer of cloud. However, as it was coming out, the visibility was getting even worse and any of the pictures I was taking was coming out milky. I tried many different settings and I just could not get it right. It was hard not to feel disappointed at this point.
Notwithstanding the aforementioned, I have to admit that the fog was making the scene
very dramatic, mystic and even romantic, like taken from Tolkien’s fairytale motion picture.
The bay is truly gorgeous, an impressive place. The bay is infested with a large number of small pointy uninhabited islets. They look like (attention now…) elements of partially submerged dragon. Yes! I was even told a legend about this particular dragon, but I forgot it.
The boat that took me on this trip was in fact a family home of quite a nice size. The boat was wooden and had several cabins with twin or double beds and bathrooms en suite. Very comfortable, I have to admit, although the bathrooms required improvements. The crew was very friendly and the food their served was decent.
This mini cruise included a visit on of the larger islands, or more precisely – a visit to a cave on one of the islands. This was actually boring and the cave was not at all extraordinary. It was desecrated with pointless graffiti by youths in the seventies and eighties of the last century. It looks now quite awful and the efforts to commercialise the cave with colourful spotlights and guided tours makes it even worse. Caves should be mysterious and visited in very small groups preferably with small torches or even candles.
So, the cave was a mistake but the most important and the key element of the trip was about to come with the nightfall. As the day was coming to an end, the captain started to move the boat away from the main routes. That was the time to have a sundowner and to get on the top deck and contemplate the scenery.
The captain moved the vessel to a mini-bay encircled with egg-shaped islets. An excellent hideout! The landscape took my breath away, and I was again on this holiday on my knees. As a sipped my sundowner and then a first-star-comer, I began think that those islets, those semi-submerged mountains, are not egg-shaped but rather bra-shaped.
There was absolutely no light pollution and the number of stars in the sky exceeded my expectations. And I am sure this had nothing to do with me drinking beer. I was sitting on the top deck and could not get over it. I could not believe how glorious the bay was, how incredible the sky was and how marvellous the silence was. It was so quiet that I could almost hear my friends’ thoughts how jealous they were freezing their bottoms in winter bound Poland and England.
For about an hour I was seating there soaking the ambiance stretching my senses. Then, two more boats came into the bay and one of them must have more party loving passengers on board as the music they played gave away their gay moods. This did not last long and about 9 o’clock, they switched everything off including lights. By that time, there were already six other boats amongst us. Every boat switched off their electricity, so did my captain. The silence was again unbroken.
Only every now and again, an engine was heard of a small boat with a powerful spotlight, which entered our hideout. I figured that it must have been an anti-pirate boat scanning the mini bay to ensure security.
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Dec 28, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - Hanoi
I was not quite sure what to expect from Hanoi. What I knew was that it was supposed to be a lot nicer and more atmospheric than Saigon with nicer architecture and less people. At least it was supposed to have an old district.
As soon as I landed, I took the official Vietnam Airlines minibus to the centre. It is quite a ride, as the airport is far from the city. I explained to the driver where I wanted to go and then patiently waited as all the passengers got off. I was left the last one to leave the vehicle.
The arsehole driver never put me in the correct hotel. There was a bit of confusion about the address but I showed him o the map where it was and he said he knew where this hotel supposed to be. Well, in fact I do not think the driver knew how to get there and just let me off somewhere near the old district.
I actually did not know that then and was sure that I was brought to the right place. What happened was that the hotel actually lied to me that they were Prince Hotel, which was the hotel I wanted to go to!!
They refused to accept my perfectly valid credit card although their lobby windows were plastered with labels of all known credit cards. I was getting pissed off by then already as they put me on the back of a motorbike to go to the nearest cash dispenser. In fact I needed to get some cash, but I was trying to avoid withdrawing too much of this completely unpopular currency.
They also tried to charge me 35 American bucks for the Halong Bay trip, but I refused.
As soon as I properly checked in and located myself in the room of this quite decent hotel in fact, I decided to wander to the Old Quarter and book my own choice of the trip to the Halong bay.
It took me an hour to find myself in Hanoi. Since I was utterly mislead by the hotel (claiming their were someone else) I could not find on the map where I was. There was no sun, so I had no idea in which direction to go and the streets had no names there. Not all of them. I was going in circles trying to figure out how to get to the Old Town. I was so cross!
I decided to pick up a location in the Old Town and then aim for it first, and only later try to find the agency with the trip.
I picked the Hoam Kiem Lake for my first destination point and started asking people in the streets for direction to the lake without realising that there are more than just one lake in Hanoi. Since I was actually closer to the Ho Tay Lake (West Lake) everyone was pointing me in that direction, which was exactly in the opposite the one I wanted to proceed.
On my way to the so remote (I thought) Old Quarter, I managed to stumble across the Hanoi Citadel and a magnificent street with French villas – possibly embassies.
As I was getting increasingly pissed of with the minibus driver and in particular with the hotel, I realised that Hanoi was in fact a very nice town. The Old Quarter, which I managed to find in the end, was really pleasant. There are many houses with interesting façades balconies, which make the quarter really atmospheric. It was not as nice as Hue, but it retained some of the colonial charm and compactness, which make it unnoticeable that this is indeed a large metropolis.
Regrettably, there are elements of Hanoi that remind everyone that it is a large and busy city. These are traffic and terrible overuse of horns on cars and motorbikes. It is beyond belief how severe noise this makes. It can actually make one sick or seriously ill. Losing hearing is also very likely! I am not exaggerating here, and trust me, I wish I was.
Not having had the right circumstances in Hue, I obviously wanted to go out in Hanoi. If only a little bit – the year 2003 was coming to an end and it is a good excuse to celebrate the 2003 achievements, one of which was the acquisition of my first property. I was also in the capital city so that was another very good excuse to go out and party a little.
I followed the notoriously unreliable Lonely Planet guidebook and my legs, felt it right up in my arse that this time, it was a really bad idea to follow this guidebook. The top two places raved in the book did not exist. Albeit I found the trace of them in the locals' memory that they might have existed in the past. One of them changed an owner and, of course, its name. The other simply disappeared from the face of this planet.
I was again faced with the necessity to balance the levels of adrenaline in my blood.
I was walking up and down, back and forward trying to locate those places. It is not easy to find bars in Hanoi because during the day, they are usually closed. The proprietors of the establishments slide the iron doors down and the entrance looks like a garage. At night, when they open, it is harder to navigate through the narrow and dark streets of the Old Quarter.
People in the streets would sometimes say 'hello' in English to a Westerner. Sadly most of them actually want something from you, usually money in one form or another – be it cash, motorbike or cyclo ride for which one has to pay naturally, or just want you to buy something from them.
Few of them do it from genuine affection, but this is such a tiny fewness that it could in fact be completely irrelevant, leading to a conclusion that the Vietnamese are greedy two-faced liars who just want to rip you off, or better, rob you. It is truly sad and many travellers leave Vietnam stripped mainly from good feelings about this nation! Regrettably, I am one of them.
Believe or not, but I wrote the above paragraph on the airport leaving Hanoi, so it was hot news then, and a very fresh feeling. Now, as I am compiling this story, I am looking at this paragraph and wondering if this statement still stands. It is generally accepted that time heals wounds, but I think I would uphold my original statement. I was greatly disappointed with the Vietnamese, and I simply cannot change what happened on my holiday and maybe yet there is time to elapse to heal my wounds. I do not know.
As I was traversing the streets of the city trying to find my way around (and where I was) and looking for places to go out, I realised that pavements are the people's extensions of living and, in particular, dining rooms. The sidewalks were packed with families sitting on ridiculously small plastic chairs and having something to eat, regardless of the time of the day.
I have not been in a local home, and struggling imagining reasons why people would not eat at home but rather choose the street? This was very strange to me. I would like to be sure that the hygenic conditions of a street are slighly worse than those at one’s home. Right?
As often, as the pavements are used as dining tables, there are considered parking lots for motorbikes and scooters. That is so annoying because there is little room for the pedestrians to walk and too often they are forced to use the road risking their very lives, as traffic is chaotic! Actually, using this adjective I am committing a terrible insult to chaos.
Nevertheless, I was taking these cultural differences on my chest, and treated them seriously.
Little Hanoi, a restaurant in the heart of the Old Quarter, recommended by my acquaintances who had been in Hanoi before me, made my day that day. Remember that I was extremely pissed off with many people that day. The food they gave me was for a lack of better word – superb. I had spicy crab soup, which was huge and had an entire crab in it, and noodles with grilled shrimp. I am not sure what spices they used for the noodles, but I thought I was dreaming – finally! There was just too much reality that day for me. Well, the meal was unreal and I could not believe the bill either!
The entire restaurant (well all six tables) paused for late lunch and all family sat down at the larger table and ate. They must have been the owner family of the restaurant. Apart from the grandmother, mother, father, one grownup man, two teenage guys, one teenage girl and three kids, the three waiters were also sitting with them and they all shared food. That was an interesting experience. Clearly, the mother was the boss there and she kept ordering and commanding everyone. They never stopped serving though, and I was appropriately looked after as long as I was sitting in the restaurant.
After that perfect meal, I was completely disorientated. I was not sure what to do next. I thought that I was so clever to locate the travel agent and book my trip for Halong Bay as soon as I found myself in the right place in the Old Quarter. The trip was for the very next day, and it was crucial to book it till there were free places. I thought I wanted to do some shopping, but I could not figure out was I would wish to buy. So, I wandered between people having their food in the streets trying not to step in their dishes. And suddenly I realised that I wanted to explore the city a bit more. Yes, more walking – like I had not had enough for that day yet!
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Dec 27, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - Hue, the Parfum River, the Imperial tombs
I arrived at Hue late in the evening, during the hours of darkness, and the town has looked very mystic then. I checked in to a hotel quickly and promptly found out that there is no electricity at night after 9pm. And then also in the morning as it was getting lighter outside, the electricity came back at 8 am.
I got up early, as I wanted to quickly book a boat trip on the Perfume River to see the tombs of the emperors. I figured that if I could the half-day river trip, then I would be able to spend the afternoon around the historical citadel, and the Forbidden City.
I wandered from the hotel to the end of the street and on the corner, I found a travel agency, which advertised exactly what I wanted to do. I enquired about the availability and got booked for a trip that was commencing within an hour.
I was instructed to wait for a car to take me to the riverbank, where I was to board the boat. I waited and waited and waited. Nothing arrived. The trip was to start at 9 am and by 9.30, there was no sign of the car to pick me up. The girl in the office was calm although I started to look ever more impatient.
She eventually chose to lie to me and told me that the traffic was bad (I could see no cars around at all) and that the car was being late. In fact, they forgot to pick me up and I ended up on a back of a motorbike chasing the boat in full rain! That was not my preferred form of travelling in this kind of weather! I was so pissed off.
The agency was so lucky (or indeed it was me who was lucky) as the motorbike caught up with the boat at the last land reachable stop. That was at the Tien Mu Pagoda. After this point the boat did not stop for about an hour, so it was the very last call.
The boat was actually a floating home of the family who navigated and serviced the boat. They also served lunch – small and very basic, but the entire extravaganza cost me all USD1.5, so almost GBP1. Worth it! The boat was very narrow and long so it was important to keep the correct weight distribution. The family would order every now and again, who should seat where. They had two single rows of plastic armchairs along the two sides of the boat, and sometimes couples had to be split so the captain could navigate around the numerous cargo boats passing by.
It was a great relaxing day and the only pity was weather, which comprised of light rain and a mist. It was a great disappointment after gorgeous weather at the Mekong Delta. However, I chose to believe that it made the whole escapade more dramatic.
Little I knew how dramatic it was just about to get when the boat stopped for the first of the Emperors’ Tombs. I am referring to the fare charged by the motorbikers from the boat landing to the tomb. They wanted VND 20,000, which was about as much as the total fee for the boat including lunch. Rip-off would be the appropriate description of such dramatism.
The tombs differ in form, size and architecture as well as setting and landscape they are situated. Some of them were extremely colourful and picturesque, and some were dark and of ‘heavy’ built. Most of them however had been built in the Chinese style with many arches and roofs’ edges pointed in the air and the decorated with mythical river animals. Red, dark yellow, grey and blue dominate the colour palette.
The most interesting setting and a tomb itself was the one of Minh Mang who ruled between 1820 and 1840. It is a brilliant example of a majestic architecture and perfect composition of the surrounding gardens and forest (picture beside). It is quite large and the proper visit of it can last a few hours. The territory is vast and a number of gates, small palaces, temples and worship buildings are considerable.
Apparently, the emperors were building their tombs as soon as they became a ruler and the complex usually contained a tomb for the emperor himself, a tomb for his wife and
a small temple she could mourn him if he was the first to pass away. In addition, there were also temples for the emperor’s concubines and possible resting places for them as well. All set in a carefully sculptured garden with ponds and bridges.
The group of tombs is a popular tourist destination and a gravy train for the boat owners, who make money by transporting the masses from Hue to the sites on the Perfume River. They do not even have leave their homes since the boats are their homes. Working at home is a concept that fits to this picture perfectly.
I was not able to count the number of boats servicing this route but there were many, which is good as otherwise these poor people would have little income options.
The town of Hue itself is nice and has a local feel compared with the multimillion inhabitants metropolis of Ho Chi Minh City. Hue attractiveness is facilitated by wide pavement (sidewalks), riverfront parks-walks, interesting mix of French colonial, traditional Vietnamese and contemporary architecture. There is also plenty of greenery in the town and the main alleys are planted with trees, which makes it pleasant to wander about. I wish I had had more time to see more of the area.
Well, in the afternoon, when weather minimally cleared, I went to see the amazing Imperial City (Forbidden Purple City) listed by UNESCO as World Cultural Heritage. I was genuinely impressed with this one. It is so sad however that a lot of it (enclosed by the Citadel) has been destroyed during the American War and never re-built.
The communistic (officially socialistic) government considered the site, and the royal tombs, as politically incorrect – not really holy, therefore. They wanted to leave it as it is or even destroy it completely. Only when the international tourism proved that the Forbidden Purple City can be a valuable source of green dollar profiteering, the sites were declared ‘pearls of the Vietnamese culture and heritage’ and therefore and indeed very holy. Fortunately, UNESCO agreed with the Vietnamese government and some movement has been initiated since to rebuild the sites.
It is still quite difficult to see how splendid the Imperial City had been. The site is vast and I underestimated the time necessary to explore it properly. I had to rush to be able to see everything before it got dark. Although it is not straightforward to see how magnificent the city had been in its full glory, but it very easy to imagine how large and outstanding, glorious, colourful and vast it once been.
There are parts of the Imperial City, which would have been a district with tightly packed extremely opulently decorated buildings allowing for only very narrow alleys between them. That would be a feast for the eyes! I paused there for a while and tried to imagine how this would look like. The area was quite large. It was probably fifty times larger than Trafalgar Square of London. And this is the housing area only, there is a lot more to the city than just the residential area.
There are also parts with large piazzas paved with tiles meticulously laid, which look very neat. The squares must have been built there for worship purposes as numerous temples surround them. Some of them stand to this day (picture to the right) and have been thoroughly restored to their original glory.
There are also a number of gates, which are being restored and the decorations on them are simply mind-boggling. I was actually passing by one of them when couple of guys were still reviving the colours on the façade. I could not believe my eyes how sumptuously decorated it was. It made an incredible contrast to the decaying walls of the Forbidden City – see the picture to the right.
At the end of the day, I wanted conclude this great day with a yummy meal. There were a number of promisingly looking restaurants and bars scattered around the town. It was a difficult choice and since I had not yet (by then) an opportunity or luck to try a local specialty, which I would consider nice, I thought it was important not to spoil the day at its very end.
Mandarin Cafe was eventually my choice. It is run by Mr Cu, who is also a very good photographer! I have not eaten yet and I was already happy to have come there. His pictures were fascinating and I wished I would develop such skills in the future as well. The pictures showed the people, life and landscape of Vietnam.
Lucky me, Mr Cu was also serving excellent food. And cheap! For my supper I had fried yellow noodles with shrimps and loads of garlic. I was in heaven! I cannot remember how much I paid for the meal but it was very cheap – something like VND 10,000. It was a good day, that was.
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Dec 26, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - Ho Chi Minh City
There has been a lot of confusion about Saigon (Sai Gon). I ended up being unsure whether Saigon was just an equivalent of the local and official name of the city Ho Chi Minh City or indeed something else. In fact, Saigon is just a district within Ho Chi Minh City and the French name of the whole city as well.
Roads in the area are a lot better condition. And there are a lot more people on the roads. Not just the people, but also many more bicycles, scooters, and insignificantly more cars. The traffic is indeed indescribable and one fellow tourist told me that one of the key things I should do in Saigon is to face the traffic from front facing rickshaw. I did! It was a horrific experience with my cyclo-driver taking chances on every possible crossing, traffic light and turning. I thoroughly enjoyed that experience. I actually ended up dreaming about it and could not wait for my next decision to board such form of transportation.
There are approximately 7-8 million people living in the city and about 15 million scooters and bikes – you do the maths. The important algorithm in the calculation is the fact that there are virtually no rules on the road.
It is impossible to cross the street and I have to admit I spent a lot less time visiting the city that I originally planned to. My willingness to go and explore was reduced to the urge of sitting down in the expatriates dominated bar, drink local Tiger beer and watch the people on the streets rushing with the speed of light at the front of my eyes.
Saigon or actually Ho Chi Minh City is an ugly, ugly city. Overall, terrible architecture dominates and only here and there a fine example of French colonial style, a villa or two. But as I say, I spent most of my time in the area of Saigon, which is terribly monstrous.
The houses are narrow and tall, like elsewhere in the country. There is absolutely nothing that differentiates the city architecture from the rural architecture. I was flabbergasted with this finding. I was expecting a bit more intelligence in the urban architecture from the city planners of potentially the most important city in the country.
Yes, it is true, the Vietnamese want to rip you off on every occasion, I thought as I traversed the only street in this town. The cyclo-rickshaw man would demand for two blocks and back the fare of a taxi ride to the airport! How can this be a genuine fare? I am lost for words.
Another example of the implausible Vietnamese ripping off techniques is used in bars and restaurants. The personnel would employ the infamous Arthur Andersen's style of counting magic, which makes the total figure twice as large as it should be, although the individual items are on the bill are priced correctly.
Saigon has nice restaurants and bars, like the largest city should have. They are in most cases filled with the Canadians, Americans and Australians. This does not bother me at all.
In one of the bars in Saigon, Allez Booz, I was a witness to the making the streets filthy and unhygienic. I entered the bar and looked for a free table. There was one near the window that I immediately liked, so I sat there. There was an English language newspaper there, which I stared to read. Then, there is this waiter named Dung, who says that I should pay a dollar for reading the newspaper, as soon as I finish. I took it as a joke, but until the very moment when I left the establishment, I was not sure he was joking at all.
I ordered papaya cocktail and kept on reading. He eventually joined me at the table and I figured that this must have been a sort of waiters-only table. He stared asking me for words in English (which were in fact underlined in the newspaper) and their meaning. As soon as we finished with one of the pages, I told him that he owed me ten dollars for the lesson. He thought that I was joking. Was I, indeed?
Then, he decided to have yoghurt and as he was finished with it, he threw the empty container out of the window. Without even checking if there was someone passing by. That was the very example of making mess on the street! Dung was his name – how appropriate! I actually told him that this was the most stupid thing I have ever seen and that he should be ashamed of himself, but he was only laughing. Silly. By the way, he said he was also responsible for cleaning the floor, which was filthy.
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Dec 25, 2003 07:00 PM Vietnam - the Mekong Delta
With the Mekong Delta, I had my hopes to see millions of boats and the colourful river floating markets. Unfortunately, I have not seen as many boats as I wanted to see.
My original plan involved an independent travel by a commuter boat from Saigon to Vinh Long, and then to the floating markets. I wanted to spend a day and a half doing this and then make it for my flight to the middle of the country.
What I eventually did, was obtaining my ticket from the Vietnam Airlines office, which took me half a day and then booking a commercial trip to the Mekong Delta with a tour operator. It was not a bad idea. The individual commuter boat would have cost me approximately 16 US dollars, while the commercial trip, including a boat trip, visit to a village, lunch, visit to rice paper factory, pottery factory and rice cakes factory – 9 US dollars. It was a good value. What I had to do was to put up with the other travellers. They were not too bad. At least they were young and despite being on a commercial trip, they had some adventure in their blood.
Instead of the numerical magnitude of boats, I have seen many people, which should not be a surprise in a small country giving home to 90 million people. What I did like was the kids waving at the shore and from other boats.
Do not get me wrong. I did see many boats. Most of them were large heavy duty boats used for the transportation of rice, bananas and wood. In addition, I saw an uncountable number of private boats transporting people, private cargo, rubbish, and everyday essentials.
The rice paper factory was in fact just a group of small houses on the shore of the Mekong river and a few families who converted their homes into a manufacture that is famous enough to attract tourist escapades from the around the planet to see how they produce rice paper.
Rice paper is made primarily for cuisine purposes and my favourite version of it is used to wrap giant tiger prawns in it. And then grilled or eventually be deep fried. However, I found that the rice paper can also be consumed by itself, I mean 'itself'. The family made some chilli flavour rice paper, which looked and tasted like crisps and it was delicious.
The rice cakes factory did not surprise me at all. It was again a group of households producing rice cakes for the mass market and they just happened to be on the route of our tourist escapade. The family was able to produce something that looked exactly what ordinary Russian immigrate can buy in an average size ASDA store in south east London. If I would be shocked by anything in this factory, this what would shock me exactly. I have seen weight watchers eat exactly the same shape and even weight of rice cakes. I tried some and they tasted exactly like those from ASDA. Scary, that is!
The pottery factory at the other hand was an unexpected piece. I knew what pottery was, I just did not fully realise how big it could be and how few people can handle it.
In a room with probably a thousand three-four foot clay pots, there are four guys servicing the entire factory! They are shaping the pots manually and preparing them for the oven. Everything manually. Where was I to believe that only small pots are made manually and the large pots just make themselves by themselves? Ha?!
In fact, this is hard work! Those guys were sweating their guts out to make those pots, and I was actually struggling to imagine for whom exactly those pots were being created. An average person does not have four feet pots in their houses, there is no room for them! So, what was the point of making them?!
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Dec 24, 2003 07:00 PM Indochina - Phnom Penh (KH) to Saigon (VN)
Before I made it to the border of Vietnam and Cambodia, I spent several hours on a rusty, shitty and smelly bus. It was a small Chinese made bus, which might have been older than me. It was not yet on its last legs, but it looked like it was. From the outside, it looked actually quite decent, and only when one entered onto and took a seat, the truth came up. At least it was quite cheap for this trip.
On the way, I have seen so much aggressive and chaotic driving that I never realised that such a thing was ever possible in a life. Everyone, including the bus driver took the road like they had a death wish, including all the passengers on the bus, with me on board as well.
Already in Cambodia, I was told that the horn is the most important part of anything that moves on the road. The first couple of hundred honks are irritating, the next few thousands are hardly noticeable anymore, but any following those give a bad headache to all those who have no horn to be used.
I also found on the way that there are no such snacks as peanuts in Indochina. Instead, there are snails. The smelly bus, the honking and the roasted and salted snails, that was simply too much for one morning. I eventually decided not to pay attention and simply look through the window spotting interesting elements of the landscape.
One of the wonders outside the bus window was the question (or an answer to it) what one can carry on a dingy motorbike? A hundred chickens, one whole, alive pig, half of the village population! I mean on the back seat of the motorbike, not a trolley or anything like that.
This international route included numerous bridges providing passage over the many canals and rivers. Although they were built of steel, they would not sustain the weigh of above 15 tonnes. This is when I realised why there are no full size buses on the route, but only these small ones like the one that was transporting me.
The crossing of the Mekong had to be done with a ferry. Merchants at the riverbank were selling everything from drinks in cans to sweet baguettes. Handy?
After Mekong, the road was built on a big dyke and was in much better shape and condition. It allows to drive faster even thru the little villages, which was so conveniently taken advantage of by the bus driver.
Border crossing was shocking. Far, far away from civilisation! The entire border facilities included a few metal sheet booths and complete chaos.
There must have been hundreds of people clinging to a small hole in one of the booths. Apparently that was the both where the entry procedure was taking place. When I eventually managed to get to the hole, I saw two guys checking the passport, but no-one ever sees your face. They just take the papers and do, what they do, and after approximately fifteen minutes, they put the processed passports on one of the many piles.
This particular pile of passports is skilfully and promptly snatched by the several hundreds of people there, who are usually kind enough to find you in the crowd and pass your passport to you.
What you need to do and is to look calm and behave like nothing really matters, you simply do not care about anything, and that you have gone thought this procedure million times before, and therefore know exactly what is going on. It is a tough role to play in circumstances like these. Oh my, I can swear I was nervous – I had no idea what was going on!
Then, one needed to fill out a medical declaration. All over sudden, the officers ask you for 2000 dong. For what exactly is a mystery! They don't give you the receipt, so I guess I should not have given to this! There is absolutely impossible to get dong in this middle of nowhere. I thought I was going to flip, but I was lucky as one Japanese girls handed a banknote to me without wanting anything for it. Lucky, lucky, lucky!
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Dec 23, 2003 07:00 PM Cambodia - Phnom Penh, Christmas Eve
At first sight, Phnom Penh does not look welcoming. Not from the boat landing. It's noisy and dirty.
After taking a short stroll, I was convinced that guidebooks exaggerate about this city. It is not nice at all.
The French apparently attempted to build the city from scratch after it had been burnt to the ground by the Siamese in the XVIII century and then neglected by the governments. However, it is quite difficult to see any resemblance to a pretty town in France. There are a few colonial houses around, but not many, and it simply does not do the trick.
Later, I regretted that I had stayed Phnom Penh two days. I could have enjoyed Angkor this extra day or go to the Mekong Delta and see some more floating markets.
One thing stands out in Phnom Penh, however. It is the riverfront promenade fringed with palm trees and old lanterns, separated from the riverfront boulevard and the road by a wide lawn. It is reasonably long and it has plenty of room to sit down and enjoy the look at the rivers – the Mekong, Tonle Bassac and Tonle Sap. There aren’t any benches or anything, but one can sit down on the small wall separating the riverfront boulevard and the concreted river banks. Many locals do. So did I.
It is actually a pity that the sit down bars, restaurants, and cafes are situated at the other side of the boulevard, rather than on the promenade. This way they do not offer any direct view to the three rivers. What they do offer is the busy road filled with mopeds, motorbikes, tuk-tuks and, obviously, cars. It is fine if it does not disturb you eating your tiger prawn fried rice and drinking very cold beer. It would nevertheless be so much better on the promenade.
One can definitely eat and drink at the promenade, though. It is the entire army of food sellers who miraculously cook something for the brave on the extremely small cooking devices. These devices are based on charcoal and the 'oven' is a coconut shell. I was officially impressed with this. People happily eat there. Plus, there are more than enough of canned drinks and bottled water sellers everywhere. So, if you’re fussy about the cars and mopeds, you can eat and drink from a coconut.
Now, I do not want to mislead you though. There are a number of restaurants with full river view directly on the riverfront. Some of them are really good. Although not open all day, there are a blessing and adequate alternative to the coconut miracle dishes. Looks of the restaurants do not denominate the quality of the place, however.
I personally liked Goldfish River Restaurant. Interior a bit communistic and aluminium but the terrace with river view is great. It would be even greater if the baby palm trees placed in the brown clay pots right on the edge did not block most of the view.
The food successfully killed all imperfections this restaurant may have. Even those I did not spot myself. I had Mekong Prawn in Black Pepper Sauce. This most definitely and undoubtedly made my day!
For about twenty minutes, these divine prawns were giving orgasm to my taste receptors of the lower tongue. The prawns were grilled to perfection, crispy, beautifully and healthily firm. They were large and it was incredibly pleasurable to bite them, and suck the creamy black pepper sauce off them.
The sauce was a triumph on its own as well. Thick, but not too sluggish and marvellously spicy! I could believe that the sauce was actually the natural habitat of these prawns in their previous life. The pepper made the taste last forever in the corners of my tongue, and on the edges – right in the middle of it. And slightly on top as well! Poetry! Heaven in mouth!
This dish equipped me with the whole new range of fantasies, and, believe me, I would never, ever, consider myself a man without fantasies before. But after I had these prawns, I realised that I could shock myself with intimate details of the fantasies at the table.
The meal was good value, too. For twenty prawns with two heap spoonfuls of rice and chives with baby onions, I paid only 8,000 riels (CBR), which at the time was USD 2. That was truly incredible! I was in heaven, and it was Christmas Eve too.
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Dec 23, 2003 07:00 PM Cambodia - Phnom Pehn
I forgot to mention shoe-cleaning boys, who hunt their prey on the promenade. Hang on a minute – this was not supposed to sound like that. These were boys hoping to make some money by cleaning people’s footwear.
My hiking shoes can hardly be saved now, so I normally say no to these little guys to avoid their disappointment. No matter how hard they would have tried to resuscitate them, nothing could help them.
But this cutiest six year-old boy with the most infectious smile approached me, walking on the very steep concrete river bank, smiled and looked me in the eye with his saddest, beyond belief, black eyes and said - 'ok mister?' I would have considered myself utterly heartless had I refused.
Happy and eager, he started his job. I actually refused he used any of his shoe polish. He could only use the brush, so I am not quite sure he was entirely contented with his results.
The next day, I started with breakfast for the kid of the street. He started asking for food and then changed his mind and asked for one dollar. I said no for the dollar and yes for food.
Until today, I cannot figure out how this boy all over sudden turned into three boys.
It was a while until we found a street stand serving food at this time in the morning. The man, who owned the stand, could not believe that I wanted to buy the food for the boys. It was actually four of them then. They were incredibly dirty, I have to admit.
It cost me CBR 1,000 (USD 0.25) and the boys were jumping up in happiness as the food was being prepared. They had a chance to boss the cook around a bit as well, telling him and pointing what they wanted. It was quite funny to watch how the cook desperately tried to avoid these eight little hands sinking in the sauces, the baby bamboo canes, and even hot boiling oil in the wok!
I was glad they got a healthy breakfast – an egg fried with baby bamboo cane and plenty of vegetables – I am not exactly sure what it was. It was a nice heap of food for them for sure. I would be a nice heap of food for an adult as well.
Then, I decided to have breakfast myself. An Asian one! As I was consuming my breakfast rice – right at the riverfront boulevard, a tuk-tuk man talked me to a ride around town. Well, I had nothing better to do in this unexciting city, so I thought I might go and sit in a tuk-tuk and see something, maybe take some pictures.
Unfortunately, it was actually my decision to go on an extremely bumpy road to the Killing Fields, a sad place in Cambodia. Many touts were telling me about this place and said that it was very important for their country to go and see the fields.
The fields represent massive graves of people who did no agree with the regime of Red Khmers. It is seriously a sad place. It resembles Nazi concentration camps from World Word II. Massive killing and massive burial, a crime against humanity – this is what they represent.
In the middle of the fields, there is a monument erected in the memory of those murdered there. The monument contains sculls and bones of the victims. Quite a powerful sight. I actually do not recommend visiting this place unless one is a historian who wants to study these places. And remember that the fields are located out of town and the road is extremely bad.
There were kids wandering around the monument, rather than being at school. They were asking for being photographed. They were saying 'photo please - 1, 2, 3, smile!' How sweet was that? The sweetness was disappearing as soon as it was becoming obvious that they were only doing it for money.
They seem to have picked up the standard chat up lines from tourist and learn them by heart. It was actually very funny to see that.
They were automatically, like a robot, having a just-met-a-foreigner conversation. It was super funny to be part of such a conversation. The kids were automatically and in a heartbeat giving answers to any counter-question one could be asking in response to their questions. It went like this:
Are you married?
No. Are you?
No, I'm too young. Where are you from?
Their answers were coming up fast like from a machine gun, with no time to spare for thinking of an answer. And as soon as they answered your counter-question, they had another question to ask you. Ready in milliseconds! Literally!
And there was a clear evidence that they were fully aware of digital photography because as soon as you snapped them, they would automatically shout almost all together 'D'you want to see?!' but really meaning that it is them who want to see.
It would have been a perfect experience had they not been spoiled to ask for money.
Then, as a complete idiot I was taken to a military field for shooting an AK42 Kalashnikov for USD30. Me? The pacifist?
I did not know actually that I was going there because the guy never told me where he was taking me. It was very funny, because the training field was far away from the city and we were going and going and going.
I was utterly unimpressed when I realised where I was taken, but since I arrived, I just wanted to try the Magnum 38. To my even greater disappointment, they didn't have it, although it was on the menu, but this is exactly what you can expect from a near totalitarian state. Although it says it is available, it is not necessarily so. Then, I decided to try the seven shot colt pistol – some call it a six shot colt with a surprise.
I am not sure if I enjoyed it actually. This was not my first time anyway, because still at school I tried shooting. My father was in the Navy, so it was not that unthinkable, plus it was part of our high school education. Just in case, we were to be attacked by NATO. So, that was a great waste of time for me. Well, at least I have something to write about.
Then, my tuk-tuk took me to the Russian market, which was a big disappointment. I thought I would find there some antiques I could acquire as tokens of memory from the trip. However, the place was horrible. They did not have anything of interest for me. It was nothing special. The merchants had plenty of clothes and wooden so called artefacts but their poor quality made them extremely expensive – when you take price to quality. In one word, I found the place ‘boring’.
The day was passing by I was not complaining. I was on holiday. The next stop was Wat Phnom. There is apparently an entire story about this place, but somehow I never could remember what it was.
The Wat is located on a hill and it quite handsome. It surrounded by a park with large trees proving a lot of shade. I went up to check it out and, compared with the temples of Angkor, I did not find it especially impressive. Although, they had this large clock in the park, placed on the ground, on the lawn. I liked that.
They also had an elephant. It was for hire, I think but it was not doing a lot of business and was relaxing in the shade. One lady had small birds for sale for one dollar each. I just could not grasp an idea what I would need a small bird for. I even had no idea what kind of birds they were. The fact that she kept these poor birds in captivity and thought I would want one irritated me enormously.
The Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda are the key attractions in Phnom Penh and extremely deserving a visit. They are the bright spot of the city, painted in very bright colours and in a perfect condition.
The Royal Palace is still in use and footwear has to be removed when stepping into. It is painted in gold, which give a fantastic impression. It has an incredible roof and rows of thin columns going around the building. The palace is best seen early in the morning or around sunset (just before they are about to close the site). The low falling sunrays bring up the colours and make them look even more golden.
Entire school trips ride through this place and the number of the school children on the premises exceeds the number of tourists wandering in a significantly less organised manner around the buildings, the palace, the garden, shrines and temples.
One can also see a single monk or a couple of monks passing by who take care of the shrines, pagodas and the temples. One had to imagine (or simply look at the picture below) that an addition of a bright orange costume to the overall background pleases the eye.
The property stands out in this unattractive city. It is actually quite shocking to see such a difference between the poverty of the streets and the wealth of the royal compound. It reminded me of Madagascar, where the president lived in a palace as large as several villages surrounding it, combined! Like fortress!
Ah, and there was also another thing that reminded me of Madagascar – the Traveller’s Tree, a kind of a palm tree that resembles banana tree. It was planted beside the Royal Palace.
The Silver Pagoda is a temple on the premises of the royal park (and walled around), which has become known for its silver floor tiles. They are made of real silver, which is extraordinary. Otherwise, it is also special for its look, I mean the architecture. It actually follows the traditional pagoda architectural style, which is not particularly special, but it is a bit larger and it is beautifully decorated also from the outside.
The premises surrounding the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda are very pleasant. There are many benches around to sit down and admire the buildings. There is shade and many stands selling cold drinks and ice-cream. I liked it very much. It makes such a difference from the extremely busy streets. The walls around the park provide excellent insulation from the traffic noise. What a pleasant escape!
Cambodia has become an unforgettable experience of mine. Angkor made enormous impression on me and the state of the Royal Palace assured about Cambodia’s potential.
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Dec 22, 2003 07:00 PM Cambodia - Siem Reap to Phnom Penh
I got up as agreed early in the morning to make sure I can catch my boat ‘Friendship’ to Phnom Penh.
Interestingly, no-one else was about, no-one from the personnel. I did not even pay for the room, and I wanted to. Before I had to go on the boat! I waited, waited, waited. It was 45 minutes before anything started happening. I was getting worried.
The girl that got up in the morning, she did not know how much to charge me. I did not know, because I was not told. It was ridiculous. And my bus was not coming.
I had to wait for the boss to kindly get up and check me out. Only then did I find out that, no – there will be no bus for me. There will be motorbike. I was well pissed off because the bus fare was included in the boat ticket. What do I do in Cambodia when people screw me like this? I do the same. Well, not exactly.
The boss of the guesthouse asked me if I had a reservation in a hotel in Phnom Penh and if I would be willing to stay at his uncle’s hotel. I said, why not. But that was one day before. He took my name and said that at the boat landing in Phnom Penh, his uncle will hold a board with my name written on it. After what he did to me that morning, I thought that probably I should change my mind about staying at his uncle’s hotel but to never tell him that. I therefore chose to ignore that man at the boat landing.
Oh yeah. But I wasn’t on the boat yet! Well, I mounted the motorbike with all my luggage – two backpacks and a big camera bag, and left to meet my boat. It was supposed to be not too far.
The ride was, for a lack of a better word, exciting! It was still before dawn and the ride was towards the sun. Nice picture to memorise from a holiday.
We were moving at an incredible speed, but I did not know what it was. The speed meter was broken and it was showing nought kilometres an hour, which, believe me, was not true. I tried to check the speed on motorbikes we were overtaking, but somehow I could not catch it in time.
What I could catch were many houses on stilts, built by the river. They all had kitchen under the house and some of them had also living room there as well.
Another thing caught my eye – we had to watch out for dogs on the road. There were everywhere moving unpredictably. Stupid dogs!
When the dogs and the on-stilts-houses eventually disappeared behind me, I felt the smell of the swamp. It was great! It felt like freshly cut grass but not so strong. And something else but cannot describe. The air was fresh and brisk. And crisp! I really liked it.
Only 7km – that was the distance to be covered between the guesthouse and the lake. So far so good, but the very last one-and-half kilometre felt like 20 kilometres! It was along a dirt road between very poor huts on stilts. Only a miracle must have held some of them together. I did not realise that a hut on stilts can get into a very miserable condition before it actually collapses.
The sudden change of smell ruined my morning. As we getting closer to the lake, it started to smell strongly of fish and a combination of decaying rubbish thrown freely just anywhere. I quickly stopped myself imagining what possible could be among those piles of rubbish. Then, I realised was touring in the Third World where it is perfectly acceptable to have a hut-based bakery next to piles of rotten organic waste thoroughly covered with thousands of hungry flies.
Suddenly, the motorbike stopped in the middle of this dirt track and the guy pointed to white fast boats floating by the shore. He then demanded money for the ride. Nevermind that I was actually told that the ride was included in the price of the boat ticket. I did not want to argue. I just wanted to get out of there and get on the boat, which was scheduled to leave in just two minutes. I pad the guy and went to search, which one of the boats was going to Phnom Penh.
Luckily, I managed to identify it quickly. It was ‘Friendship’ boat or actually ‘Friendship II’. My ticket did not specify which ‘Friendship’ boat I should travel on, but somehow the crew knew exactly.
The boat was not that bad. The seats were quite comfortable although it felt like hundreds of thousands of passengers sat on them before me. It was slightly cramped, but I could always get on the roof.
The boat did not leave as scheduled. It took it about half an hour to leave from the time stated on the tickets. At least it was on the move and that almost guaranteed that it was going to get to Phnom Penh on the same day.
Five minutes elapsed and the boat I was travelling on crashed another boat with two people on. One of the men went overboard but luckily the other pulled him out. They lost all their cargo and I just could not believe what happened. The fast boat did not even stop – it just continued. It did not just continue, it actually accelerated!
It moved faster and faster through this Vietnamese village on water. It is actually on the water – the houses are on boats. No, the houses are boats! Floating on the water. When the water is high, the village is closer to Siem Reap. If the water is low, the village is closer to Phnom Penh.
When we actually got onto the lake of Tonle Sap, the speed went on full.
Many people were sitting on the roof and walking around the boat – outside on a foot-and-half wide boat edge. I was looking at them with curiosity. I wondered if they realised that if someone went overboard, the boat wouldn't stop.
The trip was not short. The lake was large and there were very strange people on board. What actually was making this trip long was the pathetic Cambodian karaoke coming out loud from the TV speakers. I could swear they had other speakers on that boat. It went on during the entire trip! And it was looped! Fortunately, it was unable to deafen the noise of the boat itself. Otherwise, I would have gone mad, quite literally.
The video clips accompanying the karaoke could make the most tolerant people sick – this is in place of seasickness, which was unlikely due to a lack of waves and the nice speed of the boat. The story lines were so pathetic that I would not waste a word on describing them. You just need to trust me that they were seriously bad.
I was glad when the trip ended and I could listen to the busy streets of Cambodia’s capital city.
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