Oh, the places I've been.

Just a quick post to link to this map of most of the places I got to while I was away. I didn't include most of the places where I was only there for the day (because that would make the map even more confusing). I've also numbered the places on the left side of the screen because otherwise it also gets confusing.

Enjoy!

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Wongdering back home (excuse me while I get all reflective and stuff).

After six months (May-October) and six countries (Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, Myanmar) I decided to call it quits and go home.

And what an insane six months its been.

Week to week (sometimes day to day) not knowing what I'll be doing, seeing, who I'll be meeting or travelling with.

The decision to head home came surprisingly organically and unforced. I'd actually been thinking about it for a while. As far as I can pinpoint, the thought was in its embryonic stage somewhere in the middle of Sri Lanka (geographically and in terms of our time there). I think I'd hit a wall and had lost the enthusiasm and eagerness I had when I first started. That's not to say I wasn't enjoying myself anymore - moreso that I was waking up every day still exhausted and the oppressive heat would drain my energy quicker and quicker every single day. I'm much more of a cold weather kind of guy.

I didn't actually book a flight home until halfway through the Myanmar/Burma leg at the peaceful Inle Lake. And then it was an exercise in strategic time-wasting. See, the second after I entered my credit card details to book those flights, things changed. No longer was it about how much longer I could last without going home, it was how long until I get to go home. All I could think about was how I would be back in New Zealand in less than two weeks and that's pretty much all I thought about - obviously with each passing the day the number of days getting smaller.

I don't think that particular attitude was fair for the rest of Myanmar (and it didn't help that the friends I'd made had all left the country by then). Mostly because this was the country I'd been looking forward to the most. I suppose this is one of the downsides of leaving the best until last?

If you remember (or if you particularly care) I had also planned to go to Malaysia for a while after Myanmar, but I decided to leave it for another day. My rationale at the time I booked flights (and still now) was that if I was going to go I should do it properly and not just be pining for home. Also, six countries in six months sounds a bit better than seven countries in six months.    

So what awaits me back in New Zealand and what was it that made me want to go back?

Good question, dear reader.

The answer to the former is not much, aside from a wedding (not mine), a family reunion and the possibly not-so-easy task of rebuilding a life - new job, new flat, new vegetable garden. (Anyone want to help me out with that?)

The answer to the latter is a bit more difficult to put my finger on. I think its mostly a mixture of missing friends and family and a growing realisation that I quite enjoy living in New Zealand. Though balanced with that however, is the fact there is so much more of the world to see.

I think I've figured out that around four-and-a-half to five months is the perfect amount of time for me to be away from New Zealand without missing it too much.

I suppose part of travelling for me is trying to find a place where I could build a life in the future. I now know Asia is not a likely choice and that, so far, New Zealand still comes up trumps when compared to the places I've been so far (except maybe Canada).

In the post-flight-booked-home era I couldn't help but lay in bed at night and think about all the extraordinary things I'd done since leaving New Zealand and how I'd probably gradually taken them all for granted as "just those things that everyone does". But of course, not many people get to climb mountains, trek and zip-line through jungles, go through a mountain in a boat and explore historically, culturally and religiously significant temples and ruins. Not to mention see more than their fair share of Buddha statues, monks and golden-gilded things. It only seemed that way because everyone I met was experiencing the same things I was.

Even more extraordinary though are the people that I had the privilege of sharing those experiences with. Because, at the end of the day, most things are meaningless without people. And I don't just mean other travellers. The smiling and happy local people and guides who want nothing more than to help their fellow man and share what they have despite how little it may be. These people make me believe in the inherent goodness of human beings.

So I guess this is that part where I say thanks and seeya later - because "goodbye" doesn't seem to exist in the travelling world. Thanks for coming wongdering with me. Hopefully I've been able to show a little bit of what my life has been like over the past six months. And hopefully you enjoyed the photos as much as I enjoyed taking them.

And also if I've inspired you to check out at least some of South East Asia, well I guess that'd be alright. (Let me know if you need some advice or help!)

Well, until next we go wongdering.

Seeya!

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Lessons

Sitting here in my hotel overlooking the Laccadive Sea (Yeah, I've never heard of it either) in Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka I've been thinking.

And yes, that was me gloating, but the hotel was cheapish (in a mattress on the floor in a single room kind of way) because its low season and low season rules.

Anyway, as I said, I've been thinking. Thinking about the lessons I've learned/ will learn from the countries I've been to and/or am going to.

Looking back, this trip has had a game-of-two-halves feel to it. The first half (Thailand, Vietnam, Laos) has been like childhood - fun, carefree - and suddenly I've become a responsible adult with bills and mortgage (in the most fun way possible) (Cambodia, Sri Lanka, Myanmar and Malaysia).

I can't really pinpoint when that changed. The friends I was making at the start were numerous, yet fleeting (only in each others company for a few days at the most). At some stage, probably in Cambodia, I made less friends, but was with them for longer (as long as a week and in some cases we're still together almost eight weeks later (though with a little break in between)).

So what is it that I've learned/ that I anticipate learning?

The first is how to travel as a group. I touched on it in a previous post, but this is an extension of that. No longer do I feel like I'm travelling alone, but now part of a group, which, in Sri Lanka I think is necessary. Mostly because of how expensive accommodation is (between $20-$30 a night for an average guesthouse) and also because its not so easy to meet new people. As a solo traveller it would be difficult to meet and travel with people because they're already in the country with their own group/ doing their own thing i.e. renting a car. It would actually get quite lonely on your own, though it might be slightly different in high season. There isn't really an infrastructure for tourists/ backpackers - there's not really any cheap and cheerful backpackers accommodation or bars (except in bigger places like Kandy, Colombo or Galle) or anywhere to hang out at night (Sri Lankans aren't really big drinkers, so I'm told. And they also have a day off whenever there's a full moon - relevance factor = 0.).

The point is that you get to know people quite well when you're with them all day every day for weeks on end in the extraordinary situation that is travelling. And in the least cliche way possible, you learn things about yourself (like that I can't ride a motorbike) and things that reinforce what you already knew. The weird thing is that being with other people so long has made me a bit apprehensive about going it alone again - but probably only until I'm actually on my own again.

Sri Lanka has also been a lesson in teamwork, compromise, problem solving, frugality (it is also expensive to do things in Sri Lanka) and maths (who owes whom how much).        

The next two things I'll anticipate learning are to do with money.

I'm heading to Myanmar in the next week or so and from what I've heard its difficult/ impossible to get money out from ATMs etc. And what's worse, apparently there's hardly any internet *GASP!* and if there is its slow. In anticipation of the former I've withdrawn $1000USD for the 27 days I'll be there. To save you from getting your calculator out, that works out to be about $37 per day for food, accommodation - everything. If I run out of money, and if what people have told me is correct, I'll be out on the street until my flight out of there.

I've never been much of a make-a-budget-and-stick-to-it kinda guy, more of a try-and-spend-as-little-money-as-possible-and-see-how-we-go, which I suppose would still work but I'm used to having some back-up money if I needed it. Not this time. But not to worry, an Australian couple I met in Cambodia said they lived comfortably on about $35/day each for about three weeks and were staying in semi-fancy places so things should be all right. Its just a scary thought having a finite amount of money and THAT'S IT.

In a quasi-related lesson, when I get out of Myanmar I'll have not that much money left (and I still have to buy a flight home!) so my lesson in Malaysia will be in stretching a dollar (or in this case Ringgit) and extending my trip for as long as possible. And also maybe when to call it quits on something. The money I'll have left from my trip will also have to last until December when I get my money out of a term deposit. (And here's a bonus lesson - New Zealand is expensive.)

Now whether these lessons will stay with me after I return is yet to be seen. But for now they seem like worthwhile lessons to learn (not that I was altogether unfamiliar with them to begin with. I suppose these are more like the practical part of the lesson - like learning about magnesium + heat and then actually doing it.).

And by the way, this counts for a post about Myanmar because of the reason mentioned above.

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Independence is a three-letter word.

I bought my first car when I was 20. A nifty little second-hand silver Nissan Primera which had been lovingly keyed down one side. (On occassion I reassured passengers the damage was there when I bought it - no one disliked me that much, I didn't think.) I was fresh out of university and had secured my first proper job in the industry I studied to be in. I was all grown up.

I never needed a car until then - everywhere I needed to go was on a bus route or I got a ride with someone - parents mostly. Life until then was all right.

But then I got a car.

The door opened to a brave new world. A world of freedom, fluctuating petrol prices, car maintenance costs and speed limits my only oppressors. Life got even better. Want to go on a roadtrip? No problem. I have a car. Pop down to the supermarket? I'll drive.

A similar feeling came over me on our second day in Sri Lanka. Negombo, just north of Colombo, to be exact. Two friends and I opted out of the crowded local buses and decided to hire a car for 15 days to drive wherever we wanted around the island.

After some umming and ahhing over our other options (getting a driver + car - more expensive but we don't have to take the risk driving, taking the bus - cheaper, but well, shit) we convinced ourselves hiring a car was the perfect solution. The road doesn't look so busy, plus, they drive on the same side of the road as in all our respective countries - New Zealand, England and Singapore.

Now, I know what you're thinking - and other people have said this to us already - Why would you willingly choose to drive?? Aren't the roads crazy? Etc etc

The short answers are because its easier and no.

To be fair, after several months of not driving though I was a bit apprehensive and not too sure I'd be able to just get back behind the wheel, especially in a foreign country. But things just kind of fell back into place - like getting on a bicycle, as they say.

Now, in my few days of driving here I feel I've become somewhat of an expert in the Sri Lankan road rules. Here are some I've learned:

• Beeping your horn makes everything ok.
• You can overtake whenever you want, just beep a couple of times first.
• Stopping for pedestrians at crossings is completely optional.
• If you're a bus driver, you're allowed to be a jerk who overtakes at any time, anywhere (even when there's no need) and when there is an oncoming car forcing you to go back into your lane, other drivers have to slow down and let you back in. Jerks.  
• Also, if you're a bus driver you can go whatever speed you want and you will not get pulled over by police. Jerks.
• Also, if you're a bus driver it is your responsibility to make it as difficult as possible for any other driver to overtake you. Jerks.
• It is ok for bus drivers to stop at any moment to let people on and off without indicating. Jerks.
• Police will pull over a foreign female driver almost every time she decides she wants to drive.

Things haven't been all smooth driving since we got the car - not least because some of the roads are quite terrible and our car can't really handle it. We had a couple of minor problems with our Daihatsu van since we got it. The first was water in the air filter - actually caused by the owner of the company we hired it from. The second was well, my bad. I broke our only key in the drivers side door (because I'm too strong, I guess). At sunset. In a carpark on a hill half an hour away from our guesthouse. (We initially thought the key had broke in the ignition - a much bigger problem).

Luckily some helpful Sri Lankans were around to give us a hand. At first, because I've now been programmed to think this way, I wondered how much they'd want in exchange for helping. They genuinely wanted nothing which was very refreshing, but also made me want to give them something for staying past dark and helping people they had no obligation to help. (Reverse psychology?) (Well, actually, one of the guys asked to have one of our torches because it was dark and he and his wife still had to get back to their village.) I went with one of the guides, who worked at the historical site we visited, in a tuk-tuk to find an auto-electrician to hotwire our car while the other two stayed with the car. We found him about 10 minutes out of town at his house (which I felt bad about, but not as bad as it would be being stranded overnight on a hilltop carpark) and he was just finishing up with someone else who had also had some car problems.

After a bit of fiddling around the steering wheel by torchlight, the electrician was able to get the car started using the part of the key we still had. We went straight back to the guesthouse without even stopping for dinner for fear of more automobile problems. The next morning, dinnerless, breakfastless and hungry, we set about getting a new key cut and putting the steering back together and quickly. After a bit of misunderstanding with the auto-electrician in town, I ended up driving with the son of a cafe owner to find a guy to cut our key.

We found him, sitting on the ground under a rainbow umbrella outside a supermarket with a wooden box of his tools and uncut keys. The man, of about 60 with chestnut brown skin and a stark white prickly beard had been making keys for four decades. He popped the lock out of the front passenger side door and began meticulously filing each ridge of the key and testing it in the lock and filing some more. Like some god creating the perfect partner for my lock, he didn't stop til he got it just right. Then he made another one.

Our problems almost solved we drove back to town to put everything back together and only managed to lose four hours of the day.

Since then we've had no problems with the car (except when our car starts to overheat when we go too slow and/ or up hills) and everyone lived happily ever after.

The end (because this is too long and getting kind of boring).

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Travel is a fickle mistress.

Well, this was unexpected.

One day you're going about your business doing things in Cambodia, the next you've changed plans and decide to go to Sri Lanka - somewhere you never considered going. Ever.

Its not quite South East Asia (more like, South East of India) which is where I wanted to focus this trip, but it looks like I'm about to wongder a bit further than envisaged. But I'm not really one to pass up an opportunity like this.

For the past three-ish months I'd had a pretty solid plan, though lacking in finer details (dates, budgets etc) - northern Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar, Malaysia then (maybe) home (depending on how poor I was). I was actually really looking forward to going to Myanmar in the next few weeks and I've got a tourist visa which is valid for three months. (I'm still going to Myanmar, but I've just put the trip off for another month.)

But every so often things change. Ok, things change all the time. Always. Stay with me, ok? (I even changed this sentence a few times.)

Best laid plans, as they say.  

You may recall from my last post about travelling with a group of about six people into Cambodia from Laos and our little motorcycle gang. It was cool. We all split up after Kampong Cham - four of us went to Phnom Penh, the rest to Siem Reap. But even in Phnom Penh we split up again. I have a feeling that, little did I know, the decision I made that day of which way to head after departing the bus would set off the chain of events that led to me agreeing to go to Sri Lanka.

One of our group had booked a place to stay where she would meet a friend who was on a short vacation. I, along with two others, a couple, decided to go together toward the riverside. I'd read about a decent backpackers near there and their hotel was close by too. It so happened we had roughly the same itinerary and amount of time that we wanted to spend in Cambodia. Naturally (as attested to in another post) we ended up travelling together all up for about two weeks. (Incidentally the longest I've ever travelled with the same people.)

Together we had left Phnom Penh for southern Cambodia - Kep, Kampot and the beach town of Sihanoukville. (Then I was to go back to Phnom Penh then Battambang in the northwest then Siem Reap, while they eventually decided to go to the Thai islands and then to Bangkok.) Throughout our travels, the couple had been chopping and changing their plans and budgets on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis on which country to go to next. Thailand? Vietnam? The Philippines?

I chortled quietly at their indecision *chortle, chortle, chortle*. "I'm pretty sorted", I thought to myself, "Myanmar, Myanmar, Myanmar - yeah!" *Chortle*

"Sri Lanka?" he suggested based on a website which charts which countries have good weather in any given month.  
   
"You could come with us."

After a little (and I mean a little) research, I had no conceivable reason not to.

I had more than enough time, (arguably) enough money, flights were cheapish and I could get a 30 day visa on arrival (according to my research).

And so here we are. Tickets booked to a country I have no idea about and had no idea I'd be going to two weeks ago.

Let the fun continue!

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Freedom.

Sometimes you meet people who change you. Change the way you think about things, the way you see the world - in a literal sense at least.

Since I crossed the border from southern Laos into Cambodia a week ago I've been with a group of people who more-or-less shunned the day tours in favour of more travelling freedom in the form of motorbikes/ scooters.

In every town I've been to so far - Banlung, Kratie and Kampong Cham, I've been on the back of a motorbike exploring the surrounds a paid day-tour would not take me. Important to note though, I haven't been driving. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know how - and I have skin missing from my big toe to remind me. (Story below).

Since I left New Zealand at the end of April, by default (because it seemed more convenient and a good way to meet people and because of the reason above), I had always booked day tours around each place I'd been to. And they are, by all means (mostly) worth the money in terms of hitting all the major tourist attractions in one go and for meeting other travellers. Day trips though and even treks, are highly regimented with a set schedule of where to be, what to do and even when to eat. Renting a motorbike or scooter for the day (which is cheaper than a day trip and more fun) never crossed my mind.


For more intrepid and able travellers, the motorbike is the ultimate way to get around (except maybe in the larger cities where the traffic is heavy and hectic) and see parts of the country that not many other tourists may go - and where no minivans or buses could go either. There is a great sense of flexibility and adventure when you're on a motorbike - sure, you may not see all the things you would on a day trip, you may very well get lost, run out of petrol or injure yourself, but that doesn't matter. Its just more fun. 


The freedom to go and stop where you want, do what you want and see what life is really like for the locals is worth so much more than the $5 it costs to rent for the day. And from stories I've heard, even if you do damage to the bikes (which are mostly owned by locals so you're actually riding their bikes) doesn't cost that much. 

Six of us left Kampong Cham, Cambodia's third biggest city, on four motorbikes and planned to travel along both sides of the Mekong and taking a car ferry across the river. We left late morning (because we could) and took the road to Stung Trong and across on the the ferry. The road there was pretty good - a mix between sealed and dirt roads, but all sans potholes. The other side of the river was a different story. All dirt with massive holes in the middle of the road which resembled a dirt bike track rather than a main thoroughfare through several villages.

The places we passed through, including a few Muslim villages were full of smiling children greeting us in their cute and high-pitched voices ("Hello! Hello! Hello!") followed by a wave as we sped past. They weren't the only ones though - all the villagers, old, young, big, small, greeted us or acknowledged our us with a nod of the head (and helped us out when we thought we were lost). Some seemed truly bewildered to see a small motorcycle gang briefly interrupt their daily life.

But alas, I feel this may be the end of this brief fling with freedom. Our group is going its separate ways and, despite my best efforts, I do not think I'll be riding a motorbike or scooter anytime soon.

(I now have a bandage wrapped around my big toe after trying to ride a motorbike (sorry mum). It was nothing serious, but I lost control of it because I was heavy-handed with the accelerator and ended up driving into the kerb where the bike fell onto the ground. I was wearing jandals and scraped a few layers of skin off my big toe. The bike was unscratched.)

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There and back again.

This has nothing to do with The Hobbit. I just merely stole the title. 

This is about the sometimes (read mostly) unglamorous transport options and tours which get me to the beautiful places that I take photos of and subsequently write about.

In Laos, most of the overland transport is limited to buses, minivans, motorbikes, bicycles and boats (if you're lucky enough to be near a river). 


Most of the buses and minivans (except for the local transport) are actually quite nice - clean, with air con and big windows - but what gives the simple cross-country, 3-10 hour trip, that sense of dread are the roads. Not all are made equal in Laos. One moment the road is sealed, the next gravel, the next dirt with large potholes. Others wind their way high into the mountains and back down again.  


Case in point - the four hour minivan from the backpacker tubing haven of Vang Vieng to the Laos capital of Vientiane. Our four-wheeled chariot was in fine condition, though I had one of the unenviable chairs which fold out into the aisle. Everyone I spoke to who had done the trip already had complained that it was one of the worst rides they'd experienced. But most of them seemed like a bunch of complainers. I, however, like to put a positive spin on things (where possible). Most of the three or so hours seemed like some lame rollercoaster or carnival ride ("Just pretend like its a ride at Laos Disneyland," I thought to myself).
     
Quite possibly the most terrifying trip so far though was the 8 hour bus ride from Phonsavan (home of the plain of jars) to Vang Vieng. I decided, in all my infinite wisdom, to take a local bus which left at 4.30pm and was told would arrive about 11.30pm ("no problem because everything will still be open in Vang Vieng", I was told by the guy at my guesthouse). I could have/ possibly should have left on a tourist bus first thing the next morning and arrived about 3 or 4pm (hindsight is great). I guess I just wanted to get out of Phonsavan.

I got on the bus hoping to see at least one more traveller, but no luck. I was fortunate enough to experience this one on my own. The bus itself had seen better days (I suppose they save the good stuff for the tourists). The seats were a bit worn and colour faded. The seat backs were loose and the elastic at the back of the seat in front of you where you put your things had come apart. The air conditioning was barely working. It also seemed like it was oversold. At least three people were sitting in the aisle on plastic stools and fold out chairs. Luckily that wasn't me.

That wasn't what I was terrified about though. I think it was a combination of being the only foreigner on the bus, the prospect of arriving at my destination in the middle of the night (actually arrived about 12.30am), paranoia about missing my stop (I was the only one getting off at Vang Vieng) and also trying to stay awake until we arrived in Vang Vieng (I never actually knew what time we were meant to arrive so I tried to be alert the whole time).

Our two day slow boat from Thailand into Laos seems like luxury compared to the land transport. The first day anyway. As the crowded boat filled with tourists and some locals meandered along the Mekong River we wiled away the day sat in what were probably the back seats stripped from. Set up in rows like on a bus or plane, passengers dump their weary bodies into any seat they can get, only to find none of them are bolted to the wooden floor boards and their weight pushes the seat into the people behind them. During all of the first day the wind keeps weary travellers cool and refreshed, but on the second, we find ourselves sat behind the engine in a closed in room with two windows and about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the boat. Not ideal for a 9 hour trip, but it builds character, right?

The best time though, was zipping around Phonsavan to the plain of jars on the back of a motorbike. I'd arrived there on my own and found few other travellers (its not really a big hit with tourists, it seems). A package tour of a couple of the sites and other attractions in the area would have cost far too much to do on my own (about 4-500,000 kip or $67-83NZD) or even if I found another person to go with (about 300,000 kip or $50NZD). I was contemplating scrapping it all together and leaving for Vang Vieng and was generally in a bad mood for having possibly made a mistake in going to Phonsavan in the first place. Until I visited the UXO (unexploded ordnance) Survivors Information Center. (Around the time of the Vietnam War, American forces dropped millions of bombs over Laos in what is known as the Secret War. It was thought the Viet Cong were using paths through Laos to get in and our of the country. Millions of those dropped bombs failed to explode and so now the country is littered with explosives which still kill about 100 people a year and injure many more.)

When all hope was lost of finding a tour, one of the volunteers at the centre, Kham, had offered to take me on a tour for less than half of the cheapest tour price I was quoted. The money too would go back to the centre. He would pick me up at 8am the next morning.

The people at my guesthouse, who had quoted me those initially high prices, were so passive aggressive and trying to dissuade me from going with Kham. Apparently, according to them we'd get pulled over by the police and possibly fined because he was not a recognised tour guide. The reason their tour was so expensive was because they needed to pay fees to be able to do the tours etc etc. It worked for a little bit - sowed the seed of doubt - but everything turned out fine. People make their own way to the jar sites all the time with no problems.

Arriving on his red motorbike which he had had for about 10 years ("Its a bit slow, but the first bike I've owned."), Kham, a university student in his second year of an economics degree, tells me mystery surrounds the large carved stone jars which are about 2500 years old. Some say they were used to hold whisky and food, others think they were used as family urns and the sites are a cemetery.

We also go to the old town which was bombed by the Americans and forcing most of the town to flee to other parts of Laos. We pass an old French hospital destroyed by American bombs and what were essentially a vault for the towns valuables - gold, silver etc - called Stupa which were first raided and razed by the Thai people then further damaged by American bombs.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this anymore, but I guess the moral of the story is things will always work out in the end and don't complain about long haul transportation?


I'll let you decide.          

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Forty-eight hours in Vang Vieng

Curiosity got the better of me when I booked a ticket to Vang Vieng.

I'd heard plenty of stories about the place about three hours north of the Laos capital Vientiane - a place of excessive drug taking and drinking; bar hopping while floating along a river in an inflatable tube. Stories about people dying or getting seriously injured.

I told myself I'd stay away. It wouldn't be my scene, I thought to myself.

I was right.

Getting on the local bus, I was hoping to find other travellers to talk with or at least be with when we were scheduled to arrive  in Vang Vieng about 12.30am. I was out of luck. The bus, as the name suggests, was full of locals and none, it turned out were getting off at Vang Vieng. Though I didn't see why any of them would. The town, in recent years anyway, has been overrun by westerners seeking the seemingly simple thrill of floating down the river while drunk.

Every seat in the bus was more than full (folding chairs and stools were placed in the aisle for a few extra seats, but more on this in another post) and from what I gathered, everyone was heading to Vientiane. When I told the young woman sitting next to me I was heading to Vang Vieng her face was a mix of surprise and shock as if to say "why on earth would you want to go there?"  

What I found in Vang Vieng was a lesson in youthful excess which made me feel much older than my 23 years. (I'm really an old man at heart.)

In the morning and into the early afternoon people sat in restaurants with low wooden platforms and small tables and pillows which were playing either back-to-back episodes of Friends or Family Guy. Many, I imagine, were nursing cuts, bruises and hangovers while drinking fruit shakes and eating food.

It seems to be a town which can keep people in its grip and keep them in a vicious cycle of tubing during the day, drinking at night, nursing the hangover then doing it all again.

One of the girls we met had been in town for three weeks. She was working for one of the local bars which ply free buckets of alcohol and mixers to travellers by directing foot traffic to it. She was paid in alcohol and food and took care of her own accommodation.

There is more to do in this town though and you don't have to look far. Kayaking, rock climbing, trekking. I set my sights on a kayaking, tubing and caving day trip which inadvertently gave me a feel for what the drunk tubing experience would be like. Albeit at different times of the day. The tubing was 350 metres through a cave. Headlamps lighting the way, we entered the cave through a small gap between water and cave roof and we pulled ourselves along a rope to as far as we could go. I felt like an undercover agent on a mission to blow something up. Doing this was more dangerous during the rainy season, our guide Mr Sing told us. Mostly because of flash floods which could increase the river levels at a moments notice.      

During the kayaking leg, we stopped at one of the riverside bars which tubers can stop at. One of the workers throws a full water bottle tied to a rope to pull in those wanting to take a break from the river. We, however, pull up on the side of the bank and climb up the stairs. The bar has a good crowd of people and also a trapeze swing over the river for patrons to jump in. One of the staff, an older, balding Laos man, pulled the swing in  using a rope while another threw a semi-inflated rubber ring to pull in each jumper.

The bars themselves, about 6 in total, are semi-permanent structures made of wood and built along the banks of the river. Each has a different vibe or thing to do. The bar we stopped at had a beer pong table, a basketball hoop and was covered in different coloured spraypaint. Another bar we kayaked past looks closed, but had a giant metal water slide which would launch the person into the river.

For some this will be the last high they will ever experience. Estimates on the casualty rate each year from tubing varies, but travellers do die or are seriously injured while tubing.

During the rainy season the river levels are high enough that revellers can jump and dive without hitting the rocks below the surface. But this day I still saw rocks and debris rise up above the water and act as a reminder of what is lurking under the river's murky, fast flowing, surface. The problem comes during the dry season when river levels are lower. That and the combination of a sense of drunken invincibility and sometimes an overestimation of swimming ability (A drunk tuber had told a friend he did not know how to swim).

Perhaps this pessimistic view comes from my own realistic estimation of swimming abilities and a healthy respect for any natural body of water.

Despite all this though, I can see the appeal for some people and the reason so many young (though not exclusively) travellers make the pilgrimage to Vang Vieng. If I were a few years younger and was in the right state of mind I'd probably give it a shot and have a great time, too.

Such are the perils of being an old man at heart.

  

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The first step

Yesterday marked a small milestone in a larger goal to become a travel writer. Its probably a goal that many writers/ journalists want to achieve - to be paid to travel. Either that or being a war correspondent. Neither of which I imagine are easily achievable, especially in the formative years of a journalism career.

Anyway, if you haven't seen it already, here's a link to the travel piece I wrote about Sa Pa, northern Vietnam. Its more or less the same as the one that was in the Marlborough Express a few weeks ago.

http://www.thephuketnews.com/in-search-of-serenity-31719.php

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A lesson in compromise

Travelling alone is great. Unburdened by compromise; the master of your own destiny. Go wherever you want, whenever you want.

Travelling with others requires a different mindset. What do they want to do? What can I give up doing? What is the general consensus within the group? The benefits of travelling with others as opposed to going lone wolf are obvious. Camaraderie, conversation, cheaper prices.

There are two main subsets of groups travelling together, which can be further subcategorised in terms of the dynamics of the group (which I don't want get into right now). The first are groups of friends travelling together for their entire trip. The other are "lone wolf" travellers coming together to travel for an indeterminate period of time - mostly for convenience and the reasons mentioned above. Most of the time I am the latter.

An unwritten, unspoken agreement seems to exist among solo travellers that you will travel together until it no longer becomes either financially viable or if your plans change. Or, *gasp*, if you get sick of the people you're travelling with.

I've been travelling with a girl I'd met at a hostel in Chiang Mai, in northern Thailand, who had vague plans to travel to Laos just as I did. I seemed to have a more solid plan - go a bit further north to Chiang Rai then spend two days cruising down the Mekong River from Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos. At this time I'd decided to leave two English girls I had been with because they wanted to go to Laos and I wanted to head to Chiang Rai first, but that's another story. She had asked if she could come with me to Chiang Rai seeing as she was just kicking about Chiang Mai not doing much. I agreed and we've been with each other ever since (about a week now). Everything was going fine - both of us seemed to have a similar mindset when it came to travelling - accommodation-wise anyway (cheapish places which mean more money can be spent on other things. All you need is a bed to sleep in and wifi). Then we met another girl on the second day of the slow boat trip. She was taking the long way back to Scotland after spending 18 months living in Australia.

The three of us then entered this unspoken, unwritten agreement that we would be together until it was no longer practical. (She has since gone south to Vang Vieng whereas we are heading north into the jungle). Things were going grand until we hit dry land again. Where to stay?

Suddenly we needed a place with three beds, but we each had different criteria and ways of finding it. Normally the way I travel, especially when arriving late afternoon or evening, is to pretty much find the first place with a decent rate to spend the night and sort myself out for the next day. What to do and whether to move on to another place etc. Either that or book a few nights in advance online then figure out a plan from there. Our Scottish friend was using an app to find cheap hotels to stay in and paying that little bit extra for a fancier place. For me that money would be better spent on food or for tours or souvenirs.

After wandering around Luang Prabang (which thankfully is not that big) in the early evening with all or luggage we finally settled on a place - three beds, a big room, a cheap price between three. A little bit run down, but bearable. That was not the last I heard about how we could probably get a good hotel for a few dollars more.

This probably wasn't the first time I'd realised other people travel in different ways and have different criteria for what they want to get out of travelling etc. But it was an example that made me want to write about it (obviously).

It also got me thinking about what kind of person I'm like to travel with. Of course I'll never know, but I'd like to think I'm not too bad.

The main factor for me in anything is price. If its out of my price range or if I think it costs more than it should I'll say so. I'd also be more likely skip it or find an alternative or - if I really want to do it then I'll try save money in other places (food etc).

I get a bit irritable when I'm tired and/ or hungry and sometimes have to fight the urge to snap at people. When in a group I tend to be a contributor rather than the leader in a conversation or in decision making. But I'm more likely to go with what others want to do to save time, frustration and to make the decision making process quicker.

I sound like a great travelling partner, right? 

Though, to be fair, I've been lucky enough to have been with people who more or less want to do the same things as I do.

Or are they just compromising with me?    

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Of Animals and Trekking

Lunchtime: A baby elephant feeds on vegetation in northern Thailand

     

The sound of a bell in the middle of the northern Thailand jungle stopped me in my tracks. Above me on a hill to my left, a cherub-faced Asian elephant stood grazing on overgrown vegetation. Its probably the closest I'll come to seeing an elephant in the wild - this one that we've seen at the start of our two-day trek belongs to an elephant camp nearby. Elephant trainers, or mahouts, teach them commands which years ago would have been used to put the elephants to work in the jungle (possibly still the case) though more likely now for trekking with travellers.

The trek takes us 12 kilometres, mostly uphill, through jungle, over streams and through sticky rice fields (not that the rice fields themselves are sticky - its the kind of rice they grow) to Lahu Village where we spend the night on a mountain by candle light and mosquito net. It was different to my Sa Pa experience in northern Vietnam. Firstly, it rained almost all of the first day leaving the 12 of us and our guide Eddy soaked right through. Even my change of clothes which were in my backpack is slightly wet. The jungle setting also means mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes.

I'm growing quite fond of trekking. Something about getting away from the city, seeing and feeling more of the countryside, a better appreciation of the simple dinner at the end and feeling like you've earned it.

The start of the trek (a package deal), however, was a case of having to endure before getting to the good stuff. I don't think we hit the track until after midday (we were picked up about 9.30). The first stop was an Orchid farm - nice enough, but flowers don't tend to get me too excited. The next two, a snake farm/ show and a long neck village, seem depressing and exploitative. The snake trainers knew what they were doing, but seemed to show little respect for the reptiles. One put the head of a snake in his mouth and the other trainers seeming flippant and were unnecessarily aggravating the snakes. It was not a place I would have gone to of my own free will.

The village seemed like it was set up for tourists with the women, who lengthen their necks and legs using gold bangles, selling woven knick-knacks like a sideshow attraction. I felt bad even having my camera out. It may have been better if, as travellers, we had one of the women explain why they do what they do instead of being dropped off and being told we had 20 minutes to walk around.

Woah, this is getting negative. And long. Let's move on.


One of the better experiences in Chiang Mai was ziplining through the jungle with Gibbons. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, the company (Flight of the Gibbons) was set up by a Kiwi company. And it kind of showed - the whole trip from pick-up to drop off seemed like a pretty slick operation. Our guides, Mr Cash and Mr Good, were a pair of jokers trying to mess with our group at each platform - holding us back when we were ready to fly through the jungle canopy, pretending they'd forgotten something - but there was still an inherent level of trust in them. Mr Cash had been with the company since a few months after it opened about five years ago. Before that he'd worked at a hotel and applied for the job when he saw a listing in the paper. 


After a good 2 and a half hours of flying through the trees (which also included a sighting of a Gibbon family - mum, dad and son) we were dropped off at a nearby waterfall and then a hearty lunch before being taken back to our respective hostels. The trip also came with a free ticket to the zoo and a bandana. Score.


The Chiang Mai zoo itself was big - big enough to warrant a monorail and an open-sided tour bus - I won't go into much detail because you've been to a zoo before. But I didn't imagine the first time I'd see a koala would be in Thailand.


Right, this is getting too long and uninteresting for my liking so I'm calling it quits on this post. 


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Travelling pays (an update)

Apologies to some (you know who you are) for the no blog entries lately. But after my trip to Sa Pa in northern Vietnam I felt compelled to write something for my old paper back home. My first paid gig as a travel writer (Hoorah). There's also another paper which will be running the piece (which I'm not being paid for). I didn't want to publish it here before it got printed because there's some kind of etiquette around that, I guess. Maybe its just politeness and courtesy.

I also didn't want to write a completely different piece about Sa Pa, because well, I'm a little lazy like that. And I haven't done anything worth blogging about.

Here's a link to the story and to the photos.

Since Sa Pa, the friend I was travelling with went back to NZ and I spent a week in Hanoi not doing much. I had a flight out on June 11, he left on June 2. Half of that time was pretty frustrating because felt like I was in limbo, just waiting to move onto the next place. A problem with haphazard booking of things.

I re-met some people from our first night in Hanoi and also another who I mentioned in a previous blog post who we'd met all the way up Vietnam.

I'm now in Chiang Mai after a domestic flight (Hanoi to Siagon), an international flight (Saigon to Bangkok), three train changes to get to station where I caught a 17-hour train trip to Chiang Mai.

Short and sweet and keeps people off my back for a while. Ha.

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No such thing as goodbye

Sunset in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

Maybe its because there’s only one main route through Vietnam. Perhaps its because it’s the low season for tourists. Or it could be both, but during this discovery of Vietnam it seems inevitable that you cross paths with people multiple times in different cities and on different tours without knowing each other would be on it.

It began at the start of our Vietnam odyssey on a tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels near Ho Chi Minh City. Five strangers (among others) got on the bus and exchanged pleasantries as travellers do.

“Hi, how are you going? What’s your name and where are you from? How long have you been in Vietnam and what have you done so far? What are your plans?”

You start chatting through the day and you get along fine, knowing that, if their plans aren’t necessarily the same as yours you might not see them again.

The tour ends and everyone goes their separate ways.

Until the next night. 

A Dutch girl from the tour and a friend of hers get on a night bus a friend and I were on as we headed to our second stop Nha Trang. Small world.

They’re heading to Mu Nei which is only a few hours from Ho Chi Minh and well before our stop. Again we say goodbye and joke that we’ll probably see them again somewhere.

In Hoi An we see an Australian guy who was also on that Cu Chi tunnel tour. We didn’t really get talking to him and his English girlfriend on the bus, but we acknowledged each other when exchanged glances again. We find out later too that our Dutch friend saw me and my friend on a scooter in Hoi An.

In Hue, we met again when our Dutch friend and her travelling buddy were staying at a hotel across the allyway from us. The hotels themselves were down a long alley which, as a traveller you would be hesitant to go down if you didn’t know what was down there.

And now here we are, the six of us on a two day, one night trip in Ha Long Bay. No planning involved, just a bit of luck (there are a lot of different tour groups which go out into the bay every day) and a growing realisation of the inevitable re-connection with other backpackers.

In Vietnam there really is one well-trodden path which is quite linear (because the country itself is not very wide) and travellers are either heading south or going north. Each trip either starts in Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi with major stops in Hue, Hoi An, Nha Trang, Mu Nei and Dalat – and each of these places only have a couple of different tours the surrounding areas.

It’s a good feeling meeting people you’re already familiar with because you’ve already dealt with all the formalities of the first meeting and you can just get down to enjoying yourselves.

The Ha Long Bay tour itself is a bit hit and miss. It looks like Milford Sound or the Marlborough Sounds, but dirtier. Firstly, the rain is not ideal, but it does bring the temperature down. Most of the morning is also taken up with the 3 -4 hour trip from Hanoi to Ha Long Bay itself and you don’t actually get on the boat until about 1pm. 


The first stop at the Heaven Cave is impressive at first – a wide expanse of stalagmites and stalactites which were discovered by a group of fisherman in 1993 – but the coloured lights which illuminate the rock features give the place a set-like, unnatural and man-made feel. The second stop – kayaking around Ha Long Bay has been the highlight so far though. Getting up close to the large rock formations jutting out of the water makes you feel so small and insignificant as they tower above you. If those rocks could talk they would have amazing stories to tell about Vietnam’s history. 


The night is deathly still. Only the distant chugging of a nearby boat, karaoke and the bark of a few dogs pierce the silence. 


No moon and the stars are concealed by cloud. A cool breeze - possibly cool enough for a light jacket.


The towering islands now towering silhouettes and only the lights from neighbouring boats cut through the darkness. 


A restful sleep in a small cabin shared with small cockroaches later and morning has broken. A meager breakfast of bread, butter and jam and we're spending the rest of the day slowly making our way back to Hanoi (by boat and bus).


And there we are. Standing on a busy Hanoi street corner. The goodbyes are fleeting. We know we'll probably see each other again.


Its just a matter of when and where.    

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The faces of Vietnam

Most countries have that quintessential image that when you see it you can't help but think "yeah, that's definitely x country - it can't be anywhere else".

It could be a landmark - the Eiffel Tower - a festival - Carnaval - something which you associate with a particular country without even thinking.

After 10 days in Vietnam I don't think I've found that image or had that moment where I've thought - "Yeah, this is Vietnam". A quick google image search brings up maps of Vietnam, photos from the Vietnam war and Ha Long Bay (somewhere I haven't been yet.)

I think mostly because all the places we've been so far (Ho Ch Minh City/ Saigon, Nha Trang, Hoi An, Hue) have been so diverse and different there hasn't really been a constant. And most things which you might consider could be Vietnamese - the conical hats, street vendors, insane traffic - can also be attributed to other Asian countries.

Ho Chi Minh City is built up rather unevenly with high-rises near strips of small shops, markets and food vendors. The roads are clogged with motorbikes which in turn clog your airways with exhaust fumes and your ears with the excessive honking of horns. Its a city that definitely has life to it in a frenetic and hectic kind of way. A 24/7 sensory overload.

Head northeast to Nha Trang and things slow down a bit. You find a tropical white sand beach with water so clear you can see the grooves in the sand beneath your feet. At 6am its warm enough to go for the first swim of the day. (As soon as we got off the sleeper bus the feeling of wanting to jump right in was only marginally outweighed by the thought we should probably check in somewhere so we can leave our things.) Its a fancy resort town sitting amongst a city of high-rises. The traffic is less and so is the feeling you need to be somewhere in a hurry. This has holiday destination written all over it - if you're into that kind of thing.

Further north in Hoi An is something which resembles a sleepy seaside town with old, yellow buildings with wooden shutters and a lot of character down by the riverside. There are remnants of its history still about - the old Japanese bridge and some houses which have been preserved as a reminder of years gone by. The streets are lined with tailors, restaurants and art galleries. Life indeed seems to go slower the further north you go.

Hue is the home of an imperial city surrounded by high walls, a moat and a relatively expensive entrance fee (80,000VND = $5NZD). No longer used in its official capacity as well, an imperial city, it has become one of the major tourist attractions in the city - aside from the tombs of some dudes which is kind of creepy. The buildings within the walls which survived the bombings during the Vietnam War have been preserved and repaired while others have been left as they stood after being reduced to rubble. The citadel sits on the other side of the Perfume River from the rest of the city and is linked by two bridges. The rest of the city is largely nondescript with no obvious landmarks and seemingly thin on street food vendors compared to other cities.

I suppose amongst all that the constant seems to be the people. Persistent (most will try their hardest to make you buy something and won't take your first "no" as an answer) and content enough with their lot despite the obvious devastation of the Vietnam War just 40 years ago. Though in the faces and voices of some street vendors selling bracelets, sunglasses, fruit and cigarettes (among other things), there is an air of desperation - that if they drop their prices too much or don't sell enough they may not be able to feed themselves or their family that night.

Like any country which has witnessed firsthand the worst of human depravity there are reminders everywhere in the form of museums, ruins and scars on the land and people.

Describing Vietnam and its culture is complicated - there seem to be regional differences in food and attitudes and influences taken from its past including french style bagguettes (which you can buy filled with various meats, vegetables and sauces from street stalls) and bakeries from during the French occupation. It also still uses the US Dollar as well as the Vietnamese Dong - a remnant from the Vietnam War. Its food is also very similar to that of the rest of Asia - rice, noodles, steamed buns and even some desserts which I myself are familiar with from growing up around part of the Chinese culture. I'm not sure which country influenced which in this respect, though.

So Vietnam really seems like a country which has taken the best of parts of its chequered history and mashed it together to create its own unique character within South East Asia.

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Up the Mekong without a paddle (w/ video)

The famed Mekong River Delta, Vietnam

My arrival in Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon and HCMC) Vietnam several days ago was marked with an air of excitement, a new currency system (the Dong as well as the US dollar), cooler weather than Thailand (it actually rained a bit) and an insanely large of motorbikes and scooters.

The motorbike riders are the top of the food-chain when it comes to road users here. They fill up all the spaces between the trucks, cars and other vehicles and outnumber them greatly. They just look like a massive motorcycle gang. At first it can be intimidating crossing the road with hundreds of them coming at you in both directions but once you summon the courage to start moving they part as if you're moving through water. Its the cars, trucks and buses you should watch for.

With that number of motorbikes and the soundtrack of a busy metropolis playing 24/7 it seemed about time to get out of the city and explore. A day-trip to the Mekong Delta, in the southwest of Vietnam seemed the perfect option ($8USD or 168,000 VND).

About 20 minutes south on the bus toward the city of My Tho and the crowds of motorbikes thins out and to a trickle and the greenery takes over. Its almost serene and peaceful - until a pothole jolts you back to reality.

Upon reaching My Tho we jump on a boat to cruise around the delta visiting three islands - Unicorn Island, Phoenix Island and Dragon Island - be warned, none of these islands contain unicorns, dragons or phoenixes as their names suggest.

Most of these island hopping stops are just elaborate sales pitches - the first was for honey, the second, coconut candy and other knick knacks - but we did do some interesting things which were not on the itinerary; both of which involved snakes.

During our honey tasting session, one of the waitresses brings out her "friend" - a two-metre long python for people to hold and (obviously) take photos with. The sensation of feeling a snake that size and that heavy tensing up and starting to constrict is not the most pleasant of experiences. "Don't worry, it's my friend" the girl says. It may be YOUR friend, but its not mine! I think to myself. A little freaked out and with photos to prove it we move on. And quick.

A waitress brings out a Python during a day trip to the Mekong River Delta

A large, unlabeled, dusty jar filled with a yellow liquid and dead, coiled snakes is our next encounter. "Snake wine", says our guide Pho, "is good for your insides". He rubs his belly as he speaks. Small, dusty bottles of the supposedly healthy liquid, with a small snake and scorpion inside, sit on a table for sale. It smells a bit like vodka and Chinese rice wine. Tastes a bit like vodka, too (and probably would taste alright with a mixer). My insides feel no different.

Cruising along the brown Mekong river and the palms growing along its shores, you kind of get a sense of, as my friend Ian put it, being an American GI going into the harshest environment known to man (at the time of the Vietnam war).

Only 40 years on and the river has more tourist boats and fishing boats than gun boats.

The bus ride back to HCMC seems to take less time than getting to My Tho and with a lot more potholes. Soon enough we're back into the heart of the city. We walk across the road to the hostel and we glide through the traffic like a boat on up the Mekong River.

                              Drinking Snake Wine on Phoenix Island, Mekong Delta, Vietnam

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Lessons from Thailand

The end of the first leg of this trip almost over - I leave for Vietnam on Tuesday - so I thought I'd share a few things I've learned which will help you survive and enjoy Thailand.

Drink - enough water and more than enough Chang. I've started a ritual of buying two 950ml bottles of water from the 7/11 down the street no matter how long I'm going out for. I keep them in my bag which also keeps them cool for longer and for 7 baht each ($0.30NZD) you can't really go wrong. The weight is negligible, but you can buy water along almost every street if you want. If you buy smaller bottles of water for 10B, it really adds up. Keep your water in your backpack - it gets real warm real quick if you carry it with you.

Eat - forget what you like and don't like - try all of the things. It doesn't matter if its bugs, fish or spicy food - just eat it - it wouldn't be for sale if it was bad for you. Maybe don't forget your allergies.

Bring sunscreen. I forgot mine, but obviously easy to get if you're like me and forget it too.

Bring a small towel/ face cloth - wipe that sweat from your brow. And everywhere else while you're out.

Appreciate a good breeze - its like nature's air conditioning. Its uplifting and takes away the heat of the day for a fleeting moment. It goes as quickly as it comes and are sometimes few and far between so stop and take it all in.

Keep to the shade as much as possible.

Have no expectations - if you build something up and it doesn't meet what you envisaged you'll be disappointed. Better to expect nothing and then be wowed.

Take off your pants - why are you even wearing those anyway? Its too hot. The dress code here is pared down a lot and you can get into most places with just jandals, shorts and a tshirt. If you're a woman some temples will require you to wear a long-sleeve top and longish shorts or skirt. If you don't bring any most temples which have a dress code will have sarongs etc that you can hire when you get there. For guys they have pants for hire too, but the only place I've come across the need for this is the Grand Palace in Bangkok. Forget your jackets too. Whether its 1pm or 1am you won't need more than one layer of clothing around here. Unless you're driving a motorbike or scooter - then cover up to be safe.

Stay - at Bodega backpackers in Phuket. The guys there are great and its a good environment to meet other travellers. Its no real surprise its one of the best rated hostels. I was not paid to write this - seriously.

With Vietnam on the horizon I'm starting to get excited. I leave on Tuesday morning and will be there for three weeks before flying back to Bangkok. I am probably more excited about Vietnam than I was about going to Thailand (sorry Thailand) I think mostly because I know a bit more about the Vietnam war and Vietnamese history and know little about the food there. I think its also because I'll have a travel buddy for a lot of that time and will also possibly meet up with a uni friend who happens to be travelling the same region but sort of going the opposite way in terms of countries.

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Ruins and monkeys (The benefits of travelling alone)

A headless buddha statue at Wat Maha That, Ayutthaya, Thailand

I had prepared myself for a costly day when I decided to go to Thailand's historic capital of Ayutthaya, about 90km north of Bangkok.

Surrounded by three rivers, the Chao Phraya, Lopburi and Pa Sak rivers, the once prosperous city was, in 1700, the worlds largest with a population of 1 million. Merchants from all over the world, including China, India, Japan, France and the Netherlands came here to trade. The city was founded around 1350 and became the second capital of Siam after Sukothai. The reign of Ayutthaya came to an end in 1767 when the Burmese invaded and razed almost all of the city to the ground and leaving many temples in ruins.

From the research I had done, getting there wasn't a problem - 20B (less than 1NZD) one way to get there on the third class train (yay trains!). By third class they just mean the seats may not be as comfortable and there's no air conditioning - only rotating fans and open windows - which is totally cool for short-ish trips. Possibly even better if you like taking photos from trains and like hanging out the window where you get whipped by passing tree branches. I know this from first-hand experience.

As a side note, there are some quite enterprising people who ride the trains selling food and drinks to passengers. I think I'll miss that when I'm back in NZ (not that I take the train much anyway).

From the other things I read, when Ayutthaya gets expensive is when you have to hire a tuk-tuk for about 200B an hour ($8NZD). When you take into account how many temples there are (conservatively about a dozen in and around the outskirts of the city) and how big the place is (quite) and the fact that I was planning to see many of them, I was estimating it would take me at least 4 hours to see it all. About 800B (depending on my bargaining skills) and possibly more because it was just me.

Then I saw her.

A tall, blond girl sitting a seat back on the opposite side of the train. What are the chances she was also going to Ayutthaya? What if we banded together to get a better deal on a tuk-tuk?

Turns out she was going to Ayutthaya, but she had planned to explore the city by bike.

Shame.

We sit and chat exchanging all the pleasantries because if I can't make a travel buddy at least I can make a new friend. A few stops later a group of six people get on our train and one wants to take a photo with my new the tall, blond, Polish friend. Turns out he's from Vietnam and also, Asian people love taking photos with white people. Fact.

We start having a chat with this group and turns out they're from the military in Indonesia and Vietnam and are in Thailand for six months learning to speak Thai. Their teacher is Thai and worked as part of the airforce for 36 years, has since retired and now teaches Thai to military folk which is part of a programme run in conjunction with 11 Asian countries.

She is taking the group to Ayutthaya as well to do some sight-seeing and invite us both to join them. Total win.

This will surely save me money and also I won't be alone.

The eight of us, plus the teacher's friend, fit nicely in a converted ute and manage to get a price of 100B each for three hours after some rigorous bargaining.

We come up with a basic plan which is to visit the floating market (because its close to the train station) and a couple of the major temples. There are concerns about a couple of working temples because some of the group are Muslim.

I know I've talked about Wat Fatigue before but there is something different about a temple in ruin. The temples, some of which suffered damage during the flooding in November, 2011, have sat what I would like to imagine are the same state as they were left by the Burmese some 250 years ago. Headless buddha statues, crumbling towers, places of worship, learning and religion destroyed. It seems eerie and actually gives a sense of history and how life may have been before. Compared to many of the functioning temples in Bangkok overloaded with tourists which feel, to me, somewhat fake and with no sense of past and history even though they are full of it. The idea of monks and buddhists having to share their sacred sites with non-buddhists (myself included) and those with no sense of the importance of the temples (myself included) makes me a bit uneasy. Something to do with mixing tourism and religion, I can't quite put my finger on it.

These temples in Ayutthaya have been left to sit as a reminder of a rich past and a fiery end and they are beautiful. A sense of peace abounds which comes from the silence which envelops them. While there are some tourists here you are still able to find places where it feels like you have the entire place to yourself.

And so it goes that we end up back at the Ayutthaya train station and part ways with our military friends. They are going back toward Bangkok - they have class the next day. Anna (the Polish girl) and I go further north to Lop Buri to see one temple in particular. (13B from Ayutthaya to Lop Buri)

"I would like to go to Lop Buri", she tells me earlier in the day, "I want to see monkeys."

I'm quite partial to seeing some monkeys myself.

When we arrive in Lop Buri the sun is close to setting. Its about 4.30pm and some of the temple have already closed - but not the one we want (Phra Prang Sam Yod) thankfully. This town is run by macaques. They even have a monkey festival in November.

A Macaque sits on a ute in Lop Buri, Thailand

Several stray monkeys roam the streets, sit under cars and eat food left for them. One even sits on the back of a ute as it waits for a green light.

Then you see the temple (50B entry fee). I don't know what else to say other than there are a lot of monkeys here. Anna and I wander around the small Cambodian style temple and the monkeys roam free, fighting, cleaning each other and climbing all over the buddha statue.

The one thing they don't tell you when you enter is how to literally get the monkey off your back. We were warned by teacher earlier in the day about watching our things because the monkeys will take whatever they can get their little monkey hands on and won't give them back. The big bullies. To be fair, it's mostly the young-ish, teenage monkeys who cause the most trouble. Pretty much everyone gets set upon by these guys - they even try to get me. They do get Anna and one takes the fake red flower from her headband. According to her they're not aggressive, just kind of excited and probably hungry.

A word of advice: watch your back while your taking photos here or those monkeys will getcha.

Cameras full of monkey photos (and after Anna's camera battery runs out) we make the long trip back to Bangkok (28B) by train.

During dinner on Khao San Rd we make a plan to travel together the next day to Kanchanaburi - famous for the bridge over the river Kwai which was built by POWs during WWII.

Such is life as a lone traveller.  

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Bangkok by night

I tried a bit of night shooting at the Democracy Monument in Bangkok.

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Temple fatigue - its a real thing.

Buddha statues at Wat Pho, Bangkok.

Monks mix with tourist at The Grand Palace (Wat Phra Kaew), Bangkok

After my time in Thailand I think I will have seen enough Buddha's to last me a lifetime (and well into the next).

I kind of understand what people say now about how sick they get of seeing Wats (temples) and statues of Buddha that they just don't visit them anymore. Many temples look just like the last one you came from and for non-Buddhists (like myself) the significance of Buddha may be lost. All their western eyes see are rows upon rows of differently sized statues in myriad poses. One is made of emerald (actually green jade) and in a state of meditation. Another is giant, covered in gold leaf and lying down stretched out with a hand behind its head.

I suppose you'd call it Wat or Temple Fatigue. (Did I just make up a syndrome?) 

Granted, I've only been to two temples so far, but there is potential to see more. A lot more.

A friend and I visited two major beacons for tourists in the centre of Bangkok in one day and my enthusiasm for them dwindled after the first one. Perhaps it was just the heat of the day, but by the time we left the second temple Wat Pho, the home of the reclining buddha, I just wanted to go back to the hostel.

Sure, the glistening, colourful and towering spires spread throughout the temple grounds are impressive, but what are they for?

And sure, you can't help but stand in awe at the work that went into creating the insanely large 15 metre high, 43 metre long gold leaf covered, tightly curled haired, reclining Buddha with its hand supporting its head. But what does it mean?   

Don't get me wrong though, the workmanship that has gone into the buildings and statues is immense and I appreciate that, but without a cultural context all I'm looking at is a statue of giant gold-leaf coated buddha sitting in a comfortable position chilling out. The other thing I'm spending my time looking at are big bunches of tourists who probably are thinking the same thing and care little for the meaning and history of the places.

Our first stop was The Grand Palace (Wat Phra Kaew) which is the biggest tourist attraction in Bangkok and has been the official residence of the kings of Siam and Thailand since 1782. We got to the palace just before it opened at 8.30am and got some breakfast from the market down the street. Dressed in jeans and shoes I was sweating like crazy already, but that's the price you pay to get into the palace (along with 400B = $16NZD). Dress code for both sexes is quite conservative - most of the body has to be covered before they let you in, although I did see some who were not clothed according to the dress code. However, they do have an area once inside, but before the main entrance, where you can borrow shirts and pants to satisfy Buddha's dress code.

This place is huge. Huge and full of intricately detailed and painted statues of mythical creatures and warriors who guard the various temples and libraries within the palace walls. Full of history, a scale model of Cambodia's Angkor Wat and tourists. Even in the early part of the day it is difficult to find much personal space in the mish mash of tour groups. To give us an educated view on what we were looking at (that was the theory anyway), we hired an audio tour guide (200B for two hours - as opposed to the 800B tour some guy was going to charge us to show us around and the free tours which you can sign up for once you get inside the palace walls). I didn't really pay much attention to what the voice was telling me about all the different places, perhaps that's why I don't appreciate the significance of Buddha and the roles the kings-of-old played in Thai history. Its just difficult to care when its 30C and sunny and you're sweating like crazy.

The second stop, after a short ride down river, was Wat Pho, the (for some reason) less touristed home of the reclining buddha (entry is 100B and you get a free small bottle of water). He is actually really impressive, but again, no cultural context. Although the internet tells me the reclining buddha is also the largest in the entire universe. Wat Pho is also the oldest and largest temple in Bangkok, measuring 80,000sqm, and is home to more than a thousand buddha images.

No wonder I feel all buddha'd out.

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Who said sleeping wasn’t an experience?

My new favourite thing is sleeper cars on trains. They bring together my two greatest loves – sleeping and trains. As I am writing this I am on my way in a second class air-conditioned sleeper carriage train from Surat Thani in southern Thailand to the capital Bangkok (Approx 698B = $28NZD). About 12 hours total on a train which, really is nothing considering I was on a train for three days straight this one time (from Vancouver to Toronto). But it wasn’t this awesome. You probably think I’m weird but I don’t care. As soon as I stepped into the carriage I was trying to figure out how the beds came together and pretty much everyone sitting near me – mostly Thais - were looking at a wide-eyed me like I hadn’t been on a train before. 

The top bunk, where I’m sleeping folds down from the roof and contains the bedding, sheets and pillows for both beds. The bottom bunk is made by converting the two seats, which face each other, into a bed – sort of like a fold out couch. You pay a bit less for being on the top bunk, I think mostly because of the perceived inconvenience. You don’t get to see anything out the window either, but it doesn’t really matter because its night time (duh). I guess that’s also the downside of the night train is that you don’t see any of the countryside which is the whole reason I take trains whenever I can. The night train however, does take care of one night’s (amazing) accommodation and you get to your destination quite early so you pretty much have that entire day to do stuff. I’m scheduled to get in about 5.30am or something which is not ideal, but its ok, I guess.

I’ll also be taking a train probably from Bangkok to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand too – I can’t wait!

Both beds are single and the mattress is thin, but still quite soft. The top bunk also has two leather straps which stop you from rolling out (I don’t really want to test them out, though) and there’s a tiny ladder which you climb up. Its easily long enough for a 5”5 or so me to stretch out fully, but I’ve put my bags at the end of the bed so I can get to them easily – and mitigates the whole theft thing. You can also sit cross-legged and do things like write and change without hitting your head – although the roof does slope downward because that’s how the carriage roof is shaped.

I just took photos of one of the guys putting the beds across from me together. Totally not weird.

Setting up the beds on the sleeper train from Surat Thani to Bangkok.

The only really annoying thing is that there are no plugs in which I can charge my things – including my iPod which I used during the five hour mini-van journey from Phuket to Surat Thani (450B = $18NZD). There was a lot of waiting around today. I was meant to leave Phuket about 7.30 in the morning but the minivan didn’t show up till about 8ish (I was really tired and not feeling too hot. We’d been out that night to Bangla Rd, the main strip in Phuket, to celebrate my birthday, see.) We got to Surat Thani bus transfer point for everyone else who was heading to either Koh Pha-nang for the full moon party or to Koh Samui. I had to wait to take another minivan – which turned out to be the same driver who took us from Phuket – for about 40 minutes to get to the train station (600B = $24NZD) where I waited for about 4 hours for my train. I thought the train station would have a plug somewhere where I could charge things, but it was not to be. So I sat, feeling a bit sick and eating some snacks I bought the night before which I didn’t feel like eating that morning.   

Turns out the wait was worth it though. At least until this point – we’ll see how the sleeping bit goes.

Twelve hours later and we get to Bangkok about 7am, kind of still tired and cold from the air con. The sleeping turned out alright, but I kept getting woken up during the night which must have been people selling food as they came through the carriages at each stop. Seriously you guys? It must be like, 2 in the morning. No one wants your steamed buns. 

                  Here's a video of the beds being set up (not on the train I was on, but same same).

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Ko Phi Phi: An island made for two (or more)

The weather takes a turn over Phi Phi Ley. Taken from Long Beach. 

From the moment you step onto the pier at Ton Sai on Thailand's tourist mecca Koh Phi Phi Island you can tell this place is made for couples and groups. Not only do they dominate and roam the long, brown sugar coloured beaches but they get things cheaper than a serial singleton like myself.

Phi Phi is an island east of Phuket which draws in divers and snorkellers from all around the world and has been a tourist hotspot since ages ago.

I was staying at Long Beach at what I thought was a backpackers which was about a 10 minute long tail boat ride which cost me 200B ($8NZD) one way from Ton Sai - 100B each for 2 or more people. I had booked to stay in a six bed dorm at the Long Beach Hotel. It had no reviews on Hostelworld, but I assumed this was because it was pretty new and I booked because it was a reasonable price (600B/ night. About $30NZD/ night). When I eventually got to the hotel I was told I couldn't book a 6 bed dorm for myself  ("the eff?"). Instead I was offered a little bungalow with a mosquito net, a fan and a super hard mattress for slightly cheaper price than I would have paid for the dorm for the inconvenience. Win, I guess.

The hotel also runs 1/2 and full day tours around Phi Phi and the surrounding islands including Phi Phi Ley where Leo DiCaprio once sat on a beach in a movie fittingly entitled "The Beach". The 1/2 day tour  to Phi Phi Ley costs $1200B per person for two people, but I managed to get it at that price too - either because of the earlier inconvenience or because the guy was taking pity on me for being on my own. Either way - win.

Some helpful advice: If you decide to stay on Phi Phi (they also run day trips from Phuket and other places too) and you're on your own either find someone to go with or stay in Ton Sai which is where the majority of shops, bars and accommodation is. There's more of a chance to meet people and save some Baht not making the 200B+ trip to other parts of the island. Plus there's more to do unless you like lying on a beach - in which case it doesn't really matter.

Now, before you take pity on me (if you haven't already) I actually had an alright time. I probably didn't do as much as I could have though, although diving and snorkelling aren't really my scene. It probably would have just been better with more people. Funnily enough, I did know two people who were staying in Phi Phi for the two nights I was there, but I wasn't able to meet up with them for various reasons.

But, if you're an eternal optimist (well, mostly) like me than I suppose the upside was that I got to catch up on some sleep. The downside was the bad Pad Thai (Bad Thai - lolz) I had which had me feeling a bit ill the next day - when I had to spend more than an hour on a ferry in sometimes choppy waters.  

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