Easy-riding in Hue

One overnight train later and we reached Hue (pronounced H-way), once of huge political importance in Vietnam through the 19^th Century to the beginning of the second world war. Jumping on the back of a moped, we proceed to have one of the best tours of the trips. Starting our visit with the Citadel, the Imperial Palace modelled on Beijing’s Forbidden City, we raced through Hue traffic feeling totally at ease with our skilled drivers who all seemed to have that Vietnamese trait of amazing special awareness. As with most historical and religious sights in Vietnam, the Citadel was practically destroyed in the Vietnam War, bullet holes visible throughout the site. With great comedic gestures, our guide did his best to rebuild and redecorate the palace in our imaginations. Great emphasis was placed on the number of concubines the former Nguyen emperors had and their life with the Forbidden Purple City, hidden away from prying eyes.

A five minute ride later we visited Thien Mu Pagoda, a Buddhist structure, place of worship and monastery. In Vietnam, Mahayana Buddhism is practised, differing from Theravada as practised in neighbouring Cambodia and Thailand. The first boy in the Vietnamese Buddhist family can be sent to the monastery as a child, living there to receive a religious upbringing although they do attend the local school. At 18, the boy will decide whether to continue monastic life, a choice for the rest of his life. Quite a discussion ensued as to whether it was right or wrong to guide a child in such direction at a young age and whether this is still regarded as normal practise by a family. Another case of needing to stay longer in the country to really understand; I’m somewhat devoid of an opinion.

The Pagoda is a quiet reflective place decorated with well cared for Bonsai trees and another beautifully adorned temple area. The monastery was home to Thich Quang Duc, the infamous monk who in 1963 doused himself with petrol and set himself on fire in protest of the policies by the then president. The image was reproduced throughout the West. Remaining at the Podoga is his old car, acting as a reminder of the event: quick, cameras out everyone! Then back to our trip, I guess without truly understanding what we’ve seen.

With the wind in our hair, rain pricking our skin, our mopeds sped into the countryside surrounding Hue. Within minutes, after skating across a dodgy bridge built especially for mopeds, we hurtled down small brick paths through rice paddy fields, past grazing water buffalos and lone fishermen. I was probably gripping the back of the bike a little tightly at this point. We made a few stops to see an old arena built for the Emperor’s Elephant vs Tiger matches (the elephant was undoubtedly always the winner), a street of ‘workshops’ selling the usual selection of souvenirs with added demonstrations of cone-hat making and incense sticks, more temple ruins, and on to a lookout point over the Perfume river. At one point the narrow path we rode was the only visible solid land in the flooded plains, an exhilarating view of water seamlessly meeting the sky. As the light of day faded, we rode past roadside stalls cooking up evening delights, weaving in and out of other moped drivers eager to get out of the persistent rain. We arrived back soaked, excited and full of tales of things our driver did and things we saw.

An unexpected trip to Ninh Binh & Tam Coc

As soon as we arrived in Vietnam, we were glued to BBC Weather reports warning of not one but two typhoons heading straight for Hanoi at exactly the same time we were there. With the Philippines pretty devastated by typhoon Nesat, our excursion to the doomed Halong Bay was cancelled much to both our disappointment and relief. Our alternate trip for the day was Ninh Binh, 60K outside of Hanoi.

Leaving Hanoi, weaving in and out of traffic, the scenery very quickly changed from the urban sprawl into rice paddies and dramatically rising conical hills. Perhaps this is the inspiration for the typical Vietnamese hats?

First stop for the day, yet another big temple site built for previous emperors. Our guide for the day explained to us in more detail about the significance of the area and the mix of religion, spirituality and devotion. I particularly liked the significance of the building features such as the wavy style of roofing symbolising the ups and downs of life, the raised doorways to be stepped over to prevent bad spirits from entering and the numerous carvings of dragons, tortoises, phoenixes and unicorns. We were all fairly amused by the offerings laid in front of statues of the emporer – not just incense but packets of biscuits and cans of beers.

After a very local lunch of more spring rolls, rice, chicken, vegetables and mixed dishes of unidentified foods, we were off to Tam Coc to check out a rather stunning labyrinth of limestone hills jutting out of rice paddies.

Along with a few bus loads of other Halong-Bay-alternate tourists, we boarded small wooden fishing gondolas for two, rowed by a local farmer looking for a bit of easy extra cash. An older lady also joined our boat as an extra rower, spending most of the journey in fits of laughter, poking Jon, exclaiming in broken English how handsome he was. The scenery was beautiful, a maze of huge craggy rocks protruding into the sky out of flat green waters that seemed never-ending: one of those places where a photograph can never quite capture all it’s beauty. It didn’t seem overly-touristy until we surfaced out of the darkness of a limestone cave and our boat remained by a group of other boats selling drinks, bunches of souvenirs pushed into our face. We did buy a drink and snack for our rowers and resisted the attempts to make us buy more in our first truly pushy tourist experience of Vietnam. Armed with how to declare ‘Oh my God!’ ( pronounced something like ‘Oh Shoi Oi!’) in Vietnamese, we delighted our rowers with our language skills and feigned surprised looks at the cost of the merchandise on offer so it was a more amusing experience than annoying. Our hostess continued to chuckle and shout ‘Oh Shoi Oi’ all the way back to Tam Coc particularly enjoying swapping her conical hat for Jon’s baseball cap.

This was a perfect Halong Bay substitute: similar style countryside and peaks bursting out of huge river systems akin to the sea. As for Nesat, well, for my first typhoon, I have to say I was pretty disappointed by its lack of force. I’ve seen bigger badder storms in KL, Manchester even! There wasn’t even much rain just a little windy. The second typhoon hit us a few days later and once again failed to live up to BBC expectations. Scare culture news tactics has permeated the weather updates.

Wandering the streets of Hanoi

I’m a big fan of just wandering, exploring random streets with the hope of stumbling across something different. Before heading out of Hanoi on an overnight train, we had a brilliant day of wandering, with a little help from the LP.

We learnt that the Vietnamese can produce amazing patisserie and French bread, not that I could eat them but the lovely aromas reminded me of childhood holidays to France. I can only assume the bakery skills are one of the left over products of French protectionism (or colonisation, dependent on whose opinion you prefer). We also tested out an ice-creamery, ordering scoops that were sculpted into comedic Vietnamese objects like a trishaw complete with a cone hat.

Our wanders took us into the maze of the Old Quarter where streets were divided up into particular trades: streets of floristry, haberdashery, paper and metal works among them. It was people watching at it’s best. The metal work street was my favourite with sparks flying everywhere and saws eagerly cutting through pipes in every shop, one after another. Pots of food and the small stools full of people slurping down the Pho blocked every pavement. We went down one street and I noticed something was wrong: it was quiet, too small for mopeds to zip down and devoid of eateries for just a few moments of peace.

To see how people used to live in the Old Quarter, we visited Memorial House, a restored traditional dwelling complete with age old crafts. This house was part of a group producing votive paper and fake bank notes used as offerings in temples. The style was very similar to the house in Melaka, with a shop opening at the front and a large open courtyard in the middle of the dwelling acting as an air conditioning system. One room upstairs was completely dedicated to remembering past members of the family, with a temple like ambience.

Walking out quite calmly into four lanes of whizzing traffic, I didn’t really want to move on from Hanoi yet. I could have just stayed, watched the world go by and slurped down a lot more noodles.

Hanoi sights for the average LP day-tripper

Sightseeing in Hanoi provides interesting insights into Vietnamese culture rather than being astonishingly beautiful or spectacular, although I’m saying this having seen other parts of Asia. Ngoc Son Temple situated in the Hoan Kim Lake in the middle of the city started my slightly confusing journey into the spiritual and religious life of the Vietnamese. From what I gather, Vietnamese are Buddhists, Taoists, Confucian (which I had never heard about before), a mixture of all as well as worshiping previous emperors. Attempts at trying to unravel all of this would require a rather long stay within Vietnam. What is obvious is the important role religion and belief has in Vietnamese society from small shrines decorated with fairy lights and lit incense found in every dwelling to the burning of money (fake money so we found out) at the start and end of a shopkeepers working day for hope and to give thanks.

The Temple of Literature was more obviously devoted to Confucius and those educated there over 700 years ago. The most interesting exhibit was the huge stones recording the names of those passing examinations carried by tortoises. Tortoises are figures of endurance and strength, one of the four symbolic animals, the others being dragon, unicorn and phoenix. Without much of a guide to go off, I think we missed out on true understanding of what the temple was all about.

The best insight into the political culture of Vietnam came from the Hanoi Hoa Lo Prison, also known as the ‘Hanoi Hilton’. Built in the 19^th Century, the museum focussed on the occupation by the French and the conditions of imprisoned American soldiers during the Vietnam war. Exhibits describe in detail how well American POWs were treated, a case of outstanding historical propaganda. That evening, we googled information on POWs during the Vietnam war, especially John McCain’s experience, painted so rosily in the museum contradicting the brutal account on an internet site reproducing parts of McCain’s autobiography. A further shining example of the contradictory nature was the name given to the prison by American POWs : Hanoi Hilton – an ironic term as conditions were so bad or, as the museum states, because the prison was just like staying at a Hilton Hotel. It’s hard to get a true picture of the reality, it would be easy to simply discount the government run museum’s account as fiction but the historian in me would like to see more source evidence and read more about it before coming to a final judgement. One conclusion I can make, the museum is a visible example of the communist regime here which is somewhat hidden to the non-Vietnamese speaking tourist behind the seemingly capitalist everyday life.

The ancient Vietnamese art form of Water Puppetry (www.thanglongwaterpuppet.org) is one of the major tourist must dos in Hanoi. The 45 minute performance in Vietnamese (we had a basic outline as to what was happening in the English programme) was entertaining but 45 minutes was enough, especially with the tiny seating space for my legs. The performance featured Vietnamese traditional music and song as well as depictions of rural life using a variety of intricate puppets dancing on the ‘water’ stage. It was worth seeing but definitely geared towards the paying visitors. I did ask our guide whether the art form was still prevalent in rural Vietnam but she was unsure; I hope a more authentic version still exists somewhere.

For the love of food – Vietnamese delights in Hanoi

Little pop-up eateries and bars are everywhere. With no fixed dwelling, someone with a pot of the local favourite ‘Pho’ (a beef noodle broth) or a barrel of the local draught beer ‘bia hoi’ fresh from the brewery sets up their restaurant/bar with sprawling mini plastic chairs in the middle of the pavement, off the curb and into the road. They are on every pavement and street corner throughout the city and, they are unbelievably busy all day long. We had particularly enjoyable experiences at ‘bai hoi’ corner where our mini chairs were crowded together spilling into a chaotic traffic junction, mopeds just skimming your knees. No-one seemed to mind much with the beer at 12p a glass.

Hanoi, and Vietnam in general, is a gastronomic delight. My fears of getting sick were soon washed away by rice noodle galore, clay pots of pork, self rolled amazing spring rolls, and chicken served in a hundred differing ways. In Hanoi, we ventured to obvious firm favourites: Little Hanoi 1, 69 Restaurant and Newday, all equally as lovely as the next. It’s almost a paradise for the gluten free eater: soy sauce is seemingly rarely used and nearly everything is rice based bar egg noodles which I’ve mistakenly ordered twice. Most of the dips are fish sauce based which I have found a new liking for.

Before embarking on this trip away, I thought I knew my fruits and vegetables. Cue dragon fruit tasting like a kiwi, a pink spikey fruit much like a lychee inside, a huge grapefruit that tastes like an orange and small round yellow balls containing a sour opaque fruit– all amazing, refreshing and peel-able (according to many a travel guide and my mum, unpeeled fruit like apples are a no-no as you can’t guarantee what it’s been washed in). Coffee is served with condensed milk and, like in Malaysia, it is thick and black but slightly more bitter. I’ve avoided trying the speciality which is a coffee bean digested by a weasel and then used to brew the coffee. My adventurous nature stops at weasel poop.

Taking a Group adventure

We’ve opted for a guided trip around Vietnam and Cambodia to take the hassle out of booking everything ourselves and so we can experience something hopefully a little different than the LP’s list of sights. Nearly every Westerner we see has a copy of the LP in hand. It makes those unique Vietnamese experiences hard to find (which ironically the LP is about creating) without a pile of other tourists there. Through G Adventures we hope to fulfil something I don’t think we can create ourselves.

Travelling as part of a group has always been a positive experience for me. On the whole, the fellow travellers tend to be like minded, willing to join in and help each other out especially when in need of a painkiller, plaster or if you want to try their food. This time round has been no exception with a mix of American, English, Australian, Swiss, Swedish, Finnish and Danish of all ages. On group travel adventures, you also get a great sense of other Western countries as we discuss politics, health care systems, jobs, social problems and lifestyles of our respected homelands. It’s engaging, sometimes heated but always friendly.

For the majority of the trip, we take meals together most days, bunk up in train compartments and hang out together on ‘free’ days. It’s all good fun and I’ve always enjoyed travelling this way.

Hanging out in Hanoi (for slightly longer than expected)

Good morning Vietnam!

If KL really is crazy, Hanoi is insane. The minute we got off our very nice and efficient Air Asia flight, we embarked on the most nail biting drive of my life. Witnessing the road traffic here is worth the visit to Vietnam alone. Mopeds rule the roads here, weaving in and out of each other, dodging cars and trucks, carrying the most ridiculous loads: trays of eggs, hens strapped down on to a pile of straw, crates and crates of beer carefully balanced – all travelling on the highway.

It was a hazy, polluted filled blue-orange sky that greeted us to Hanoi. Since then we’ve seen nothing but cloud and rain so perhaps we should have appreciated it more. From the airport to Hanoi, today’s Vietnam was summed up: water buffalo and rice paddies between Canon and Panasonic factories. The architecture of the city is totally different to any other place I’ve visited in Asia. Five to six storey, very thin, perhaps 8-10 ft in width buildings are packed in together with barely any patches of greenery in the actual city (the surrounding areas very quickly become fields of some sort). Most of the buildings are very long to compensate for lack of width, to keep the dwelling cooler.

Our first venture outside Anh Hotel, a lovely little place, did not see us going far mainly because we lacked the ability to cross a road and had absolutely no idea of direction! We witnessed the end of the school day, watching kids pile on to mopeds driven by their parents – one kid on the front, one on the back, neither wearing helmets, chuckling away. After looking like bunnies in headlights, we returned to the hotel, eager to meet our tour group and guide and work out just how the chicken crosses the road.

Hanoi is an organised chaos, probably why I loved it. It’s a true hive of constant activity. Everyone is busy doing something from early in the morning to late at night, seven days a week. There doesn’t seem to be any demarcation between work life and social life: everything is mixed together. People are asleep in their shops, moped drivers are constantly dropping by for a chat, some sort of meal is being eaten. People’s homes are turned into make-shift grocery stores and coffee bars, with their laundry hanging up to dry and a TV blearing in the background. We went to one little coffee shop and after serving us, the whole family upped and left on a moped leaving us baffled as to who we were to pay as the chickens hopped around our feet.

The stereotypical image of a Vietnamese lady in a conical hat carrying two baskets adjoined by a wooden pole placed on her shoulder is reality. Such an efficient way of carrying produce but, having later tried one out, it must lead to some serious back problems. Add to this image all the zooming mopeds, wandering dogs, food cooking away on every street corner, constant stream of people buying and selling and tapping away on mobile phones and you’ve got Hanoi.

A good night’s sleep: learning how to get decent kip on a train…

For three nights in Vietnam, we’ve taken the sleeper train as a cheap easy and quick way of travelling that keeps our days free for sightseeing. We got lucky on the first and last train – clean, decent sleeper compartments with, most importantly, a western clean toilet! Each compartment contains two bunk beds and a little table with more than enough room to store the ever expanding backpackers.

The first train had a ‘restaurant’ carriage which the whole group decided to check out. After walking through cheaper and cheaper classes we realised just how lucky we were with our compartments and, again, most importantly, the toilet facilities. Carriage after carriage, people lay sprawled over seats and just when I was about to think the restaurant was a vicious train rumour, we spotted flashing disco type lights through a far off door. It was a different world to the rest of the quiet train: noisy, packed, smoky and drunken. Westerns made up the majority of the raucous crowd sat in booths with the occasional amused local wedge in between. The train guards, turned bar men, watched on and joined in eager to pump up the volume of various pop songs, this being their entertainment for the night. I think our group were all in a little shock of the surreal situation. Apparently after we left some folk decided it was time to dance on the tables…We didn’t find another ‘restaurant’ on any other train so it was a missed photo opportunity.

Sleeping on the trains is an art. I had a form of train jet-lag after the first train, not being able to sleep through the rackety tracks or the expressive braking which made me think they drive trains much like they drive on the roads. By the third train, the ear plugs were in, a glass of wine was downed and I had become used to the motion, my deep sleep only woken by the ‘wake up!’ wailing ballad through the loud speakers. I love watching the scenery pass by in the mornings: people starting their days, stirring metal pots of broth, praying at their miniature home temples, carrying various goods in the Vietnamese baskets. Then there’s the landscape; from the urban dwellings to dark green cone like hills and rice paddies fields with lazing water buffalos.

The less said about the second train, the better. When a small cockroach scuttled down the compartment wall, I decided against using any of the given linen and avoided using the toilet as much as possible.

One night in Saigon...

All travel updates, thoughts and things will now be on a proper blog space, right here -onenightinsaigon.blogspot.com. Vietnam tales to come...

A crazy KL, September 2011

At first glance, KL is dirty, sweaty, chaotic and just crazy in the eyes of the Western traveller, so unused to the smells of drains and sights of outlet water from the skyrises. It’s my third time here and I fluctuate between loving KL and really just wanting to get out of here. I’m feeling disappointed with the Lonely Planet’s lack of descriptions of KL sights and their maps pinpointing incorrect addresses and pathways. I’m sure there’s so much to see in KL that just isn’t mentioned in the LP. So, we’ve walked and walked to uncover KL and even thought about buying another guidebook just for Malaysia.

Road congestion is everywhere, on every road. Crossing them creates a small panic for someone who will only cross roads if the green man definitely says so, of course I’m not referring to anyone in particular here. However, I think KL is merely a mild introduction to even crazier Vietnam pedestrian crossings or no crossings as I suspect the case may be. Beeping of horns is definitely a pastime here, we watched one guy merrily chuckling as he beeped his horn all the way down the road.

Chinatown is fake goods galore with a splattering of food stalls and temples breaking up the endless piles of plastic toys, t-shirts, dvds, sunglasses and numerous Manchester United ‘shirts’. Lunch was eaten at a lovely Indian joint where I enjoyed more rice and lentil pancakes – loving the Southern Indian food. To escape the heat (and a pounding humidity headache) a quick train ride took us to KLCC, a shopping centre within the infamous Petronas towers formerly of ‘World’s Tallest Building’ glory. The beauty of the towers still amazes me, they are such imposing structures. The surrounding gardens are a peaceful timeout and feature a running track, though funnily enough we didn’t see anyone going for a run. Inside KLCC is consumer heaven with all the big brands including Topshop and M&S. This is the place to shop if you’ve some serious dough; I’ve never seen so many people looking at and buying Tag Heuer watches. So many of the shops were advertising for vacant positions – about 5-8RM a hour, about 1 GBP an hour. Two chicken rice (with soy sauce – boo) later and it was back to our hostel.

Reggae Mansion is the somewhat comedy name of our brilliant hostel. It’s the third in a chain of ‘Reggaes’ and the owner must have spent a fortune kitting it out. I’ve never stayed in a hostel where your room has a large plasma TV with sky channels or where you get a daily delicious hot complimentary breakfast. Dinner here was nouveau cuisine and Alf, our friendly restaurant manager, ensured nothing with gluten dared enter anything I was to eat. The whole hostel is really impressive and that’s before you discover the roof terrace with views of the KL and Petronas towers from cushioned sun loungers. ‘Flash-packing’ (backpacking in upmarket hostels) can be such a dirty word among some travellers but to have an accommodation experience like this is worth the couple of extra ringgits that’s actually only a couple of extra pounds a night.

Next on the to do list: the Batu caves, extraordinary limestone caves as a backdrop to one of the most popular Hindu shrines outside of India and the living quarters of long-tailed macaque monkeys. It was impossible to get any sort of guide about the place and the ever disappointing LP had limited information, a quick google search has filled in the gaps of our, I’m ashamed to say, very bad knowledge of Hinduism and the importance of this cave. The huge golden statue of Lord Muruga guards the opening of the caves which is a 272 step climb and dodging of curious monkeys (I gained comfort stroking my rabies injected arm). The caves are awesome in height with openings to the sky in some of the chambers, adorned by Hindu paintings and statue. We were invited to be blessed ‘for luck’. I’m still trying to find somewhere to tell me the significance of the blessing (apart from a tourist experience) but as you’ll see from the pictures, we were painted with a red and white dot on our forehead. A couple of friendly Indian-Malaysians tried to explain to us the significance but we got lost in their explanation and had a photo session with them instead.

Ignoring the LP, we followed the Guardian’s recommendation of dining at Precious in Central Market, the old ‘wet’ market of KL, now an art deco conversion into a fairly touristy but pleasant market. Nonya Malay food is a Malay-Chinese mix of food and I enjoyed delicious coconut overload including a tapioca coconut pudding which was amazing.

Lake Gardens, the peaceful green area of KL, was slightly more complicated to get to than expected but once arrived, it was a welcome, quiet and relaxing relief on a hot day. A visit to the Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia was insightful, informative and well curated for a varied audience. Between us, we learnt a fair bit about Islam from the basics to the differences throughout Asia: Dependent on the region and country, Islam can differ aesthetically and incorporate local customs and culture; aspects of Buddhism and Hinduism from a pre-Islamic era were incorporated into a Malay Islamic culture if it didn’t directly conflict with Islamic teachings. The textiles exhibited were exquisite and left me wanting a beautifully pattern shawl of some kind. It’s a bit of a realisation when you visit somewhere like this and you realise how much you don’t really know about a religion and culture that has so much attention within the UK media.

Final thoughts on KL: it’s just so friendly and I always feel safe here no matter what time of day or night we’re walking round. KL is my most visited city outside of the UK and I just don’t mind coming here and probably will do again in the future, but I’ll definitely do my research and seek out the hidden parts that I’m sure exist. Of course it’s chaos and I’ll be glad when my lungs can breathe clean air again but I don’t think that will happen for a while yet seeing as Hanoi is the next stop.

Historic Malaysia September 2011

Bussing it in what was once a luxury coach was a convenient start to our Malaysia adventure. A 4-hour fairly uneventful ride (apart from anxiously watching the driver smoke a cigarette right next to where the bus was being filled up with petrol) took is to Melaka, a laid back friendly city boasting fabulous heritage architecture. Our hotel was situated in one of the old districts of Chinatown formerly known as Heeren St where wealthy traders once lived. The surrounding streets are full of little craft and art shops full of beautiful things that my backpack wont be able to carry.

During a personalised tour of an 18th Century shop house conserved from the era of Dutch rule (after an era of Portuguese rule), we were shown features to common problems like the lime plaster used to allow the walls to breathe, roof tiles creating an air con system and fish in the wells to eat mosquito eggs and act as a first warning if the water was poisoned by attacking forces. Many of these buildings are still visible today across the city and create a really distinct interesting ambience. Adding to these shop fronts are the stark red buildings of the Christ Church and Stadthaus, the old Dutch town hall, and up on a hill the ruin of St Paul’s Church first built in 1521 by the Portugese. So much maritime and colonial history in this city, so well conserved. Nearly every other building here is some sort of museum and Melaka is obviously very proud of it’s history.

Malaysian food is amazing. There’s no doubt about it, we will be eating our way around Malaysia. So far we’ve (mostly Jon) had curries, beancurd rice, pineapple pastries (a local delicacy), fish heads, lamb pieces, Popiah (like a spring roll), pancakes, rice parcels, fruits like lychees but bigger and better, tiny bananas and this is all before we head to a the weekend night market tonight (weekends being Friday and Saturday as although Malaysia is a secular country, Islam is the official religion of the Malay people). Today is the end of a fasting by the Malays as well as celebrations still ongoing for the annual Independence day so there was a party atmosphere that we were very quickly invite to join in by Tourism Malaysia officials. We were more than welcome to participate in the elaborate feast and I was hauled up to dance with the band to the amusement of the locals. It was one of those experiences you could never plan and take you by surprise and people’s generosity and kindness. The Malaysian government has worked to create ‘One Malaysia’ with its many different people and faiths and this was a perfect example.

Today is hot. The clouds have lifted and I think I want them to come back as the heat is unbearable to the point where we took some respite at a local shopping centre. I enjoyed what I hope is the first of many massages while Jon’s feet got eaten by fish – yes the same spa treatment you can now get in the UK but much cheaper and with bigger fish. I think Jon may have needed more than just 30 minutes. Also in the shopping mall we randomly visited an exhibition on the ‘Instruments of Torture during the European Inquisition’ a really well put together exhibit complete with a chanting monk sound track. The exhibits were enough to fuel nightmares and I don’t think I need to explain what a knee splitter is.

Every Friday night in Melaka, Chinatown is cordoned off for the weekly night market, a time for Jon to taste of more Melakan treats: egg custards (yes, they are Portuguese treat, not made by Greggs), more Popiah (spring rolls), jelly with coconut and cane sugar syrup, octopus balls, Durian (extremely stinky fruit banned in most accommodations) pancakes which quickly went in the bin, and a potato curled round a stick and deep fried. Gluten free eats came in the form of Boon Curry at the brilliant Geographers café, a tomato based curry full of veg, simply delicious. The market was bustling with lots of food stuffs our stomachs told us to avoid as well as a fair amount of what can only be described of as tat. We enjoyed the entertainment of old people on stage banging out the local karaoke hits. All the local art shops were open and one such, ‘Orangutan House’ caught our eye for the very funky art based on Ying and Yang concepts by Charles Cham (www.charlescham.com). A hand printed t-shirts of one of his designs is our first souvenir.

Final thoughts of Melaka: much much nicer, cleaner and interesting than I thought it was going to be. Superbly friendly – even the taxi driver gave us a long talk about the effects of Tesco opening in Malaysia – and even though there was not loads to see, we could easily have stayed longer.

Slinging into Singapore, September 2011

Mainly for our respective families and because I've heard of stories of people losing their journals, here's the Asian Adventure highlights part one (of many parts I expect and hope!):

Stepping off my second 7 hour flight, I was probably not feeling as fresh as I thought I would be. “I don’t really get affected by jet-lag” I stated so easily to someone on my flight; famous last words as I spent the next two days falling asleep by 4pm.

First impressions of Singapore: well, I expected huge skyrises from the plane window, not vast jungle and muddy waters. The taxi ride into the city also failed to meet my metropolis expectations. Where was the skyline I was hoping for?! One hostel check in and a ride on the fairly empty and uncomplicated MRT later, I finally saw the Singapore I’ve seen pictures of: huge high rise office blocks and hotels, amazing feats of architecture like the Marina Bay Sands hotel mixed with the colonial British empire still visibly marking it’s territory. Unbelievably clean and incredibly affluent, Singapore is the most sanitised and expensive part of South East Asia and a somewhat nice opening for the virgin Asian traveller, just as long as you know not to expect the same standard elsewhere. The colonial buildings are glorious, the most famous being Raffles where a sneaky peak through the windows took me back to the 19th Century. A drink in the Long Bar, famous for the invention of a Singapore Sling left a nice little hole in our pockets but the entertainment was amusing and the novelty of eating monkey nuts and throwing the cases on the floor ticked an experience off the list, although not much to be said for the Calpol tasting Sling! We managed to coincide our visit a day before Formula One started so we got to experience the bright lights of the track – it would be amazing to see it but at $700 a ticket, I think we’ll leave it for this year.

Rucksack Inn kept us cool and well informed for our stay, with cleanliness the hostels in Australia would be envious of and brand new Mac PCs for internet browsing (that I couldn’t use as I’m an uncool Windows girl). Everyone in Singapore had some type of iPhone, I daren’t have taken my Nokia brick out in public as there was probably a law against it. Singapore is hot on it’s laws - eating, drinking and smoking is banned in a lot of places. As is chewing gum which I accidentally forgot to declare but I promise I didn’t chew any.

A full day’s walking round the city took us from the delights of China town into Little India. I did my first of many temple viewings, in awe at seeing Buddha’s tooth (yes, an actual tooth), and gawping at the Hindi temple, finally viewing a Mosque just a little further down the street. This truly is a country of diverse faiths. We watched a highly skilled food trader make noodles which Jon later enjoyed whilst I had fun working out what foods were gluten free – ahh rice, my good friend. Little India was exactly the contrast you’d expect from China town. With upcoming Diwali, the streets were intensely decorated and flower garlands sold everywhere. Of course a food tasting was in order, this time a huge lentil pancake called Dosa, although I think I may have been lost in translation so any clarification gratefully received as I really want another one. A long walk later through a giant department store that quickly gave Jon a headache, it was time to venture out on a Night Safari.

The infamous Singapore Night Safari, is one of the must do things in Singapore. I think the makers of it watched Jurassic Park and wondered how they could do minus dinosaurs. It’s slick, entertaining and really worth a visit. In the environmentally and ecologically sensitive night show, we saw performing beavers, civets, and even a hyena, though slightly disappointed they couldn’t make it laugh. A tram ride around the park took visitors close to hippos, elephants, hyenas, lions, numerous deer I’ve never heard of, sloth bears, bats, flying squirrels (beautifully jumping off branches in front of you), cheetahs, porcupines, wolves, cattle with huge horns, rhinos…basically your usual zoo animal list with a couple of extras thrown in because, quite simply, Singapore has the money to do it. The noises you hear whilst walking around in the dark were a little frightening, especially while viewing some animals that seemed just that bit too close to the path with not much of a moat in-between.

Final words on Singapore: very similar to how I had imagined it, easy to navigate, interesting mix of cultures and somewhere to be if you have some serious money to spend and want to enjoy some of the finer things in life. An easy start to Asia.

Old times in New Zealand, 2010

17th May,

A fellow dorm roomie is currently sat writing her journal which she does everyday so I thought I better do my own update – didn't realise how long it has been. Or, in retrospect from starting to write this entry, how long it would take! I'm now sat in a lovely cafe in Wanaka thinking back...

Firstly, Jon and I are both proud owners of jobs at Mount Ruapehu which we are apparently super lucky to get as they are well sought after jobs. We start on the 14th June when we pick up our uniform and go to a toga party...Now that's sorted, we have just under six weeks to get our backpacks down to the South Island.

After leaving our comfy farmhouse in Waipuk, we headed to Wellington (which was not as windy as it's reputation) and stayed in possibly the worst backpackers in NZ; I even refused to make any dinner in the kitchen. We hung out in the superb museum checking out the only preserved giant squid and more scary exhibits about volcanoes and earthquakes in NZ and some controversial art work from the Venice Biennale. The infamous rough crossing from Wellington to South Island's Picton wasn't as bad as predicted but with a slight hangover (after a few drinks with one of Jon's former roomies from Napier, Issac's cider is very nice!) it wasn't great. Sailing into Picton was not your average Dover-Calais crossing: green waters swimming with millions of jellyfish surrounded by dense hilly vegetation. After a short stay in a lovely hostel with a quick bike ride up to yet another viewpoint we took the train to Kaikoura. The train even had a 'scenic carriage' with no windows – a tad windy- through the Malbourgh vineyards.

Kaikoura is the marine watching capital of NZ. There's an underwater gorge just off the coast meaning it is one of the few places in the world where the ocean is very deep next to land. I braved the renowned rough seas to capture sight of a whale. Real live whales! Although admittedly you only really see the tops of them and then the fin as they dive down for another feed. It's still amazing to be so close to such an amazing mammal (note I didn't put fish). It was an educational tour too; I cant believe the ban on whale hunting in these shores may be lifted soon, sad times. I also saw hundreds and hundreds of playful Dusky Dolphins which I could have watched for hours; very powerful and hypnotising creatures.

From our nice but not very friendly hostel where I received a beating at Monopoly (how?!I always win!), we headed to another WWOOFing place arriving after a slightly scary moment where we thought we'd been left on a pitch black road in the middle of nowhere encountering an interesting and helpful truck driver of an unknown sex. Our host was Ester and her five teenage kids although all but one – Rufus - were actually at the house. The house itself is set in a valley with a good 15 minute track to any proper road and no phone signal. Two nomad cows some quick marching chickens and a stray random dog kept Jon and I company as we painted, chopped wood, wiped the outside walls of spiders and collected hundreds of walnuts. I reckon I can make a pretty good fire these days. Ester was another brilliant host whilst Rufus kept Jon busy on the playstation. Ester's place embraced every bit of the kid's personalities with the walls plastered in photos, paintings, certificates, notes, stickers, books...it was a really great loving household. I've not had an epiphany of 'what to do with my life' yet but I do think I want a garden and a real fireplace. Probably could have learnt that back home but hey ho!

What you get through Wwoofing is finding out about things which are not in the guidebooks. Kaikoura has thousands of seals (protected here) on it's coastline and we went to the same spots as everyone else to view them. Then, Ester told us about a short walk to do off the main road which leads to a waterfall where the seal pups hang out and play. I've never seen anything like it. In a small pool, about 50 seals messed about having the time of their lives; I swear if they could have done they would have waved at us. I'll upload a video of it. Someone else Ester met described it as magical and I think that was pretty much spot on. A unique experience I think.

Time to go solo: I booked the Magic Bus which is a travel network for backpackers – ones slightly older than the party animals on the Kiwi Experience bus – to get myself round the South Island and hopefully to meet some like minded folk. Following a flat battery in the car taking me to the bus stop, some furious phone calls and Jon holding up a sign to flag down the bus, I did finally make it from Kaikoura to Nelson. Jon was left at Ester's with the playstation, I doubt I was missed much.

Nelson gets the most amount of sun of any place in NZ, about 360 days a year of sun. So of course, we had rain for 3 days. The Paridso hostel kept us dry and entertained though. I made some travel buddies (Tracy, Katie, Dean, Fien) to my slight relief – there's always the fear you'll meet no one and have to find a really good book. We took a day trip out to Abel Tasman, a national park outside of Nelson where the rainforest meets the ocean. Whilst the rain let up for a while, we hiked through the bush; it's a really beautiful place with one 'wow' after another. The mix of what I would call 'European' and 'tropical' trees as well as other vegetation meeting pure golden beaches makes the quandary of how to place New Zealand even harder. Perhaps it's identity is best described as eclectic; I'm still thinking about it. Towards the end of our hike, we were lucky to have the heavens open and watch Fien's hair stand up on end with the electricity in the air. We were not however as impressed to find that all the coffee shops at the end of the hike were all closed and one with a broken hot drinks machine.

At the hostel I sat next to a group from the Kiwi bus and whilst I watched them wok sausages (!) one of the guys told me how he'd found cooking for himself difficult: he previously cooked a kilo of rice which he thought would just be enough for three of them and when someone said you just throw the sauce in that comes with the noodles, he took it literally and threw the packet in. For the first time I felt my age and became quite glad of the bus I chose as they started that night's drinking game. I cant take the pace any more.

The rainy days in Nelson were spent at the cinema to watch Russell Crowe attempt a Liverpudlian/Irish/Leeds accent in Robin Hood and reading one of the Stieg Larrson triliogy. After picking up a traveller's cold, it was pretty nice to do nothing too strenuous. We hopped back on the bus the next day with our amusing driver Rich entertaining us with ridiculous stories. The trip to Greymouth on the West coast passed through more rugged county out to the Tasman Sea. The scenery reminds me of the Devonshire-Cornish dramatic coast. We did check out the famous 'pancake' rocks, a stretch of coastline eroded in such way it is supposed to resemble a stack of pancakes. It's a little imaginative but a good tourist trick! Like pretty much everything here, it was another piece of spectacular viewing. Not sure if I'm getting a little bit numb to the beauty and will probably appreciate it more in hindsight.

Greymouth looks like it sounds. Still entrenched in beauty but a little boring and drab as towns go. We stayed in a very friendly nautical themed backpackers which got the local bakery's left overs delivered everyday as a treat for everyone staying there. Nice little extra. The one night there was spent checking out Monthieth's brewery tour where, to be honest, the best bit was the tasting part . The pipes and containers they showed us could have been anything and I'm not entirely sure how much I could recall of it now. No, that has nothing to do with the beer I drank. Good beer and cider followed by a meal out – yes an actual meal out! Although it was in the equivalent of a working man's club with gambling machines setting a great ambience...That night, apparently I saw my first ghost. I woke myself up by calling out 'who are you' to what I thought was a figure at the bottom of my bed. One the guys I'm travelling with is a Funeral Director and he said he felt a 'presence' in the hostel and someone else thought there was something in the room too. So there you go, Ghostly Greymouth.

Another day's drive and more of our bus driver's amusing stories to get us to Franz Joseph, one of three places in the world where there are glaciers in the mountains. I think I am going to have to consult the thesaurus for more words for 'spectacular'. The place was outstanding. The glacier runs through the mountain valley surrounded by rainforest. It takes one snowflake sixty years from the top to make it to the bottom, melting into the ashy rivers ( the colour caused by the grit of the rock, not a volcano!). It rains here a lot so of course we had perfect blue sky for 3 days. After watching a safety video on hiking the glacier and the drops you would encounter, I was a little apprehensive about what to expect. An early start and a kitting out of gear later, we ascended the mountain valley, clipped on some crampons and cautiously stepped out on to the ice. I've never seen anything like it. We hiked up and down steps created for us by our guide and climbed over 'waves' of ice created by the wind to amazing view upon amazing view. The scary part was walking through tiny crevasses and getting completely stuck. A small wave of panic hit when I realised I just could not move but alas the guide popped out a rope and I pulled myself out briefly thinking that I should cut out the muffins until I saw everyone else getting stuck. It was an exhilarating and pretty tiring day. The day after we hiked the glacier one of the guides who was ice climbing slipped ten metres down a crevasse and was stuck there for two hours as helicopters tried to pull her out; she was ok in the end. Selfishly, I'm glad I didn't hear the story before I hiked.

The rest of Franz Joseph was spent hanging out with my dorm roomies, reading more of Larsson, checking out another walk, soaking in some hot pools and scaring ourselves on a night-time hunt for glow worms. Sweet as.

I've not really mentioned much about the bus network but what was supposed to be a useful deal has become a little complicated as there are not enough travellers on the road to warrant buses everyday so I'm now having to spend longer in places than I perhaps would have liked. But at least I have no excuses not to do my washing any more. So we've headed to Wanka for the slightly longer three nights which is actually great because it is a really beautiful place; probably the first place I've been which I could picture myself staying in. A stunning lake surrounded by mountains and a really upmarket town with a lovely feel to it. It's truly autumn here and temperatures have dropped as much as the leaves have. With some of these places, I'm glad I'm visiting in these months as I can imagine at the height of summer this place is insufferable with tourists. We hired bikes and toured the lake for three hours having whole stretches of it to ourselves which I very much doubt would happen in the busy periods. I've even hit the town to a hip hop club which was very amusing.

Onwards to Queenstown tomorrow for more adventure...