Operation Hanoi

Sorry about the long delay - i am back in Tas so should catch up on my Blog for those wondering what the hell I have been doing....

I scrapped the motorcycle diaries and limped off the train into Hanoi hoping to find Tuan - a family friend and local tourist agent. I caught a motorbike to the address scrawled on scrap paper hoping that Tuan would provide some salvation as my leg was getting more infected and I was feeling feverish - unfortunately all I found was a closed shopfront in a street that didn't quite seem on the tourist trail - from the shreds of English provided by the locals I could not tell whether Tuan had closed shop, moved or died ... I sat against the roll a door in the Hanoi heat unsuccessfully trying to get antiseptic and a phone from the locals (half of whom were variously trying to sell me boat tours, motorbike rides accommodation and, most likely, marijuana and opium) ... fortunately no one was close enough to hear me pleading for my mum under my breath. Tuan and his troupe returned - apparently from an extended/late lunch break and the shopfront was reopen - this was soon followed by accommodation at a doctors home (albeit a doctor who had trouble understanding "hello" - ask Tim - but a doctor none the less) - he cleaned up my leg and had me feeling like I may be able to walk one day.

The local antibiotic cream didnt work the wonders I had hoped so after spending most for the following day in bed I headed to the International hospital to be told that my dream of having an operation in a foreign country was to come to fruition the following day - fortunately i was under general anesthetic so i didn't notice the removal of my other kidney and although depth perception is a bit of an issue, having only one eye does have its benefits (reduced dust ingress for one). Actually the operation seemed to go well and I hobbled out with an Asian length crutch, a big blue splint and one more scar for chicks to dig. Reduced mobility and requisite checkups limited the rest of my trip to Hanoi and stunning Halong bay - affording me the time to observe the maelstrom of tourism and local activity that define these two unique and beautiful places.

It was the best of times, It was the worst of times

I had been warned by a number of travelers that the intensity of the Vietnamese tourism industry would make me wish I stayed in Laos - these sentiments were confirmed only a few long hours after crossing the border in which time myself and four fellow travellers had been extorted and repeatedly nagged and yelled at - I eventually found my way to Ninh Binh surrounded by friendlier locals.

The countryside surrounding Ninh Binh is marketed as "Halong Bay on land" so I rented a motorbike and set off exploring ... what i found was more stunning than tag had suggested - more apt a description would be "Halong bay on rice paddies" (fortunately for me: at harvest time) - I spent hours riding the tracks surrounding the paddies and through the narrow hay strewn streets of the tiny inset villages, watching the harvest and climbing the looming limestone formations, taking a rowboat ride through the paddies and caves, enjoying lunch and ridiculously strong rice wine at the home of a friendly local family (who nevertheless, in true Vietnamese style asked for a financial contribution) - somewhere in the mix I managed to lose my wallet out of my back pocket as i bounced along, however, that was not going to dampen the day. The sky darkened, the track around the rice paddy narrowed and I found myself pulling battered bike and body out of the paddy mud - unfortunately it was not a job for one so I hobbled with a deeply cut knee a few hundred meters to the small glow from a ridiculously quaint bungalow. With the help of the locals I extricated the bike and washed both it + myself of with water from their well. After dinner, home made whiskey and a smoke we were revived enough to take another look at the bike - a couple of hours draining and drying critical components and the bike sputtered to life. Deeply ingratiated to the newfound friends I decided to forgo the offer of a bed for the night and head home (in the course of the repair one of the guys slipped his hand where I didn't want it - I still are not sure why, but didn't really want to find out). I rode home still covered with mud and smiling after the most memorable and enjoyable day of the trip so far.

The next day after taking the bike to get fixed (500 000 Dong! that's ridiculous, oh, its only 40bucks) I had to chose between the "RICE" and "Get back on your Bike" schools of thought - I choose the latter after the hotel owners hesitatingly agreed to rent me another bike (not before unsuccessfully recommending that I have a driver) - fortunately this day was less eventful and almost as enjoyable. I went to bed planning a two day motorbike trek further afield.

Laos III

From Luang Prabang I headed north to Nong Kiaw and after a 1 hr boat ride ended up in Mang Ngoy - a small, slow paced riverside village where the owners of my bungalow referred to themselves as Mama and Papa ... Mama cooked mean Banana Pancakes for breakfast and would also provide weed if required. Tourism isn't so advanced here so I wasn't surprised when the 16yo guide we'd chose to take us up the overshadowing mountain stopped 3/4 of the way up saying it was as far as he had been ... much to his consternation we pushed on (he seemed overly concerned about losing some of his first customers) - and with his machete and our rope we managed to find, climb and mark the track up and get back safely to mama.

The route to the Sam Neua was only about 300km but would take about 12 hrs and the bus would pick me up sometime between 6pm and 12pm. Local bus rides in Laos are an interesting prospect and an essential experience - crammed with people and goods, everyone sleeps on everyone, the horn is employed almost constantly along the otherwise quiet roads to warn children, water buffalo , oncoming traffic etc., refueling and repairs are a communal experience as the jerrycan is removed from the buses underbelly, and no-one seems at all fussed by the appalling music that they play all through the night .... nothing could be more at odds with the beautiful countryside (or the concept of sleep) - a mix of everything that is bad about elevator music, synthesisers, mike oldfield and top 40 pop with a slight Asian inflection - well i suppose there has to be something not to like about Laos.

I crossed the border to Vietnam after spending a night in Vieng Xai - checking out the caves that became the homes for the Pathet Lao leaders military and thousands of civilians as protection from the CIA bombs.

Unfortunately my phone is now broken - so I cant even provide a crappy Nokia photo!

Laos II

From Vang Vieng I bussed to Luang Prabang, an old French provincial town and former Royal Capital marketing itself as the jewel of the Mekong - and it is hard to disagree (having extensively travelled the grand river ... well I have been to Vientiane). Laung Prabang is set at the intersection of the Mekong and its Khan tributary with the beautiful Laotian countryside as a backdrop, The town is full of old French colonial architecture, bookshops, cafe's + bakeries, outdoor boules courts, classic Mercs, pristine retro scooters, outdoor billiards and locals who don't know whether they would prefer to sell you something or sleep - a seemingly effortless integration of European and Buddhist Asian charm. UNESCO world heritage listing ensures that the only development in the town centre is in a strict restorative vein and the only place allowed to be open after 12 is the bowling alley located out of town. I could spend a long time in this place.

Unfortunately scooter rentals are banned in Laung Prabang so I had to use my legs like a sucker - While cycling out of town in a village I chanced upon a group of local lads who were keen to test this pharang (Foreigner) out. Their English was only very slightly better than my Lao so the evening was reduced to them loading me up with home made Lao Lao and smiling as i winced ... eventually i noticed the bottle was almost empty and the food was coming out, I thought salvation had come in two forms - unfortunately i was wrong on both counts - the food was whole pickled garlic and chicken foetuses (I had seen these along with rats, bats, frogs all kinds of innards and plenty of flies at the local markets, so i guessed it was edible and crunched my way through) ... then they refilled the Lao Lao bottle. The only graceful exit i could think of was to offer to buy some local beer, thankfully they thought it was a good idea and the night progressed at a more reasonable pace. Somewhere along the line a Laotian who could speak a bit more English turned up allowing conversation to be squeezed out and eventually offered to tow me home on the motorbike ... I wisely accepted, after all, how much damage can you do in a bike crash?

I ended up spending much of my time in Laung Prabang with these locals, playing soccer, watching the champions league final and heading to the local waterfall. If only the Laotians could fix their roads I would be convinced that the waterfall was a joint construct of the Laung Prabang council and the Disney fairytale division - a stunning multi step waterfall forming alluring azure pools every few meters - with warm weather and few tourists (at least in the morning) the caged tiger and bears were a mere distraction.

Laos

Any country in which it is economically rational to staff a toll booth and separate check point to collect a $0.30 fee from visitors on entry must have some severe financial problems. I paid my 30cents, exchanged $100 thereby becoming a millionaire and jumped back on the bus holding my now bulging wallet tightly (2 girls had had their wallets emptied on the overnight bus trip) wondering how much worse the Laos poverty would be than what i saw in Bangkok ... call me culturally blinkered, but all i knew about Laos was that it is the most bombed country per capita on earth (CIA ... who would have thought!), is a renowned opium den and that foreigners reputedly get fined $500 if caught sleeping with a local girl (Anna was Laotian - that's why she was in Bangkok).

The last two facts were confirmed as soon as I jumped off the bus into Vientiane (the capital) - for the first time in a while I was not offered to be taken to a ping pong show or massage parlour ... rather, I was immediately offered opium. Vientiane was unremarkable for such a remarkable country - perhaps redeemed only by the fact that it had a shooting club where for a couple of bucks I could try my favourite pistol so I tried my hand and headed to Vang Vieng.

I had began to love Laos by the time I got to Vang Vieng, I kept my face pressed to the window in order to take in the beautiful scenery and thatched villages lining the road offering glimpses of the Laos way of life - slow and relaxed ... I am not sure if it is not just the difference between rural and urban poverty, however, the Laotian lifestyle seemed enviable (at least from the bus).

Vang Vieng is a visually stunning place where the thing to do is to grab a tube and float down the river stopping off every couple of hundred meters at one of the many riverside bars offering blaring music, 10m high swings or flying foxes into the river, free Lao Lao (local whiskey) and cheap drinks/marijuana/mushrooms ... by the bottom of the river everyone is loaded and well acquainted and, if lucky, no one has drowned (unwisely I took the Kayaking option - that, although advertised, did not include the tubing). There are a stack of bars offering Friends or Simpsons reruns and "Happy" pizza's/shakes in which to recover from tubing ... the whole place is somehow not quite as offensive as it sounds ... this and Daphna, an Israeli girl I met on the river, made for a pleasant couple of days.