Adam and Darren's Epic Asian Adventure

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Greetings all, its that time again, and I'm about to tell the tale to all who care to tune in...

A brief prelude; it was but 6 weeks that I decided to leave Ecuador which was my consulting base and home for most of the past three years. A suspension on mining activity by the populist socialist government is what instigated the move. I saw it as another opportunity to travel, and soon the gears were set in motion.

After some emotional farewells and great "despedida" going away fiestas with the crew in Quito (I miss you already "mis hermanos"), I took a week home in Canada. A highlight of that visit was Mike Kahnert's stag in Montreal "shout out!", and some fantastic boating in gorgeous Canadian summer weather with my dad and co on his powerful new sea doo utopia 8 seater.

Quite providentially, my adventure travel partner and old highschool buddy Darren Jack, or "DJ" happened to have a month or two to spare. Its hard to believe its been 5 years since DJ and I conquered the Amazon, voyaging through Peru, Colombia, and Brazil down the great river. Now it was time to hatch our dream of doing a trip down the exotic Mekong river from soutwest China into southeast Asia.

I flew into HongKong on Monday July 7th, arriving at 7pm the next evening at its stunning ultra modern airport . Unsure how I was going to manage getting around in China, it turned out it was quite easy at least here in Hongkong where English is the second language. For those who don't speak it, mainly the older, I could usually use sign language or point to what I wanted. My first impressions of the city was pretty much what I expected, a very busy bustling metropolis full of neon lights and chinese characters. With a little help from friendly locals giving directions I made it pack and all to the dragon hostal, a rather spartan but clean place on the 10th floor of a highrise with inner courtyard on a typically hot humid evening. After checking in and some email, I headed down to explore the neighbourhood and grab a bite. I hit the food stall on the corner, and what I heard about the strange and delectable foods of China was true. Of the 30 or so types of foods hanging, laid out, or being fried, I think I recognized about 3 at first glance. After some hesitation (as the Chinese apparently eat EVERYTHING), I followed some lady's lead and went for some fried "balls" of some sort on a skewer . Fortunately they weren't "those" type of balls, but rather fish balls of some sort, that were actually quite tasty with the soy hot sauce. DJ was due to arrive soon, having flown in seperately from his base in the Arizona desert. Sure enough moments later I caught sight of him about to walk by me, even under the Vietnamese basket hat he was supporting, DJ was unmistakeable with his smooth lanky jaunter.

We had both put together this trip haphazardly and did not arrange visas before we left. It was part luck, and part intuition that the Hong Kong SAR (Special Administrative Region) did not require visas for Canadians. Not the case for China. We made our way to the China Visa office only to find out that they not only required our return flights out of China, but our hotel bookings for the entire stay. We of course did not book anything in advance preferring to travel freely with the Lonely Planet guidebook and our whims as our only source of direction. Over the next couple of days we managed to figure out calling cards, and regional codes and had one hostal send us a letter indicating a 2 week stay in order to get the visa.

Most of these first two days were hence spent shuttling back and forth in the HongKong subway system, eating Chinese food, and hitting a few bars by night. The first night we were adopted into the table of a bunch of local guys and girls, and joined them for vodka and green tea, and dice games. The Chinese love their dice games, and table after table were playing them in both of the main clubs we went to, strange... The funniest thing is to hear them laugh when we singlingly asked them "Arrrrrrre Youuuuu Feeeeling luuuucky?!". Oh we did manage to get pulled in off the street to a "hostess bar", literally two girls took us by the arm and escorted us in. For the price of four regular drinks you could buy them a "hostess drink" and they were your bar date for the evening. However, we decided just to drink our own beers and then be on our way.

Darren by the point had caught the flu, and was going only half speed and needing lots of rest. This is kind of becoming tradition, because last trip I found him half dead in a hostal in Iquitos of the Peruvian Amazon, at the start of that journey. The next morning I took the harbour tour on my own while he rested and did some highspeed internet at the business center of a nearby hotel (DJ's setting himself up the be the next internet millionaire by the way, but I probably shouldn't reveal his business plan..). Needless to say HongKong harbour is spectacular, a massive forest of multicoloured and shaped glass skyscrapers framed between the grey-blue south china sea and lush green mountains, with the odd Chinese Junk ship thrown in there to add character. Other activities in those first few days finding our "travel feet" were riding up the world's longest escalator system, a full 20mins, above HongKong's winding and rising streets, as well as the the peak tram for panoramic views of the city and harbour.

Friday evening we took the fast ferry from Hong Kong to Macau. Macau being the historic trading colony, ceded by the Chinese to the Portuguese in 1551 in compensation for ridding the area of pirates. Today its pastel stucco buildings and cobblestone streets are fantastically preserved, and interspread around the city are old Churches and Temples dedicated to various old Chinese deities. However, it is perhaps better known today as the Chinese Las Vegas, with a number of large extravagant Casinos such as the Gran Lisboa, Venetian, Rio, and a number of other known names like Sands and Wynn. We spent a pleasant day exploring the town, and hitting the clubs by night. I woke up with my head spinning like a football, but it was time to clear out. Next stop Guang Zhou - to be continued...

Asia 08 EPISODE II - From the Li River to Lijiang

It turns out we didn't head to Guanzhou after all, as the transport and connection times were more favourable the next day through Shenzen. Although I was dissapointed at first for being off schedule, it turned out that we had a fun debautcherous night out in Macau, and it was nice just to have a little downtime the next morning.

Perhaps its time to take a step back and outline a little more of the why and the where for this trip. Originally it was to be southeast Asia, because I'd never been to east asia, the buddhist/confucian civilizations, and of course old temples (a fascination) abound, and its one of the great travel spots (ok and I'll admit purportedly a great party). But we wanted to do something different as well, so flirted with the idea of Burma, well off the beaten track... We decided to fly into HongKong instead of Bangkok. China being the rising great power in the world, "The Awakening Dragon"; more and more we'll be dealing with it, so I wanted to know it. Since I'd given myself 7 weeks, that would give a great dynamic to the trip, from the chinese south and southwest ethnic minority regions, then down into the tropical indo influenced civilizations of southeast asia.

We cabbed over to the Shenzen ferry terminal, and were soon leaving Macau behind en route to the Chinese mainland. We arrived at the Shenzen airport, stocked up on Chinese Renmibi currency or the "Yuan", had bowl of spicy beef and noodle soup, and boarded a night flight to Guilin, gateway to the Li River Valley. On board we met a couple Brit teachers about our age, nice enough chaps. Darren enquired if they had met any Chinese ladies, when the rolly poly of the two said that its not difficult but he felt they were the ugliest people, DJ privately took offense. Lets just say he's been enamored by the local culture and I think the condition may be contagious.

The next morning our goal was to be at the river boat docks by 8am to catch the boat down the Li river to Yangshuo, a tourist and backpacker haven. I set the wake-up call for 7am, and was duly up and out the door by 7:30. DJ was a little behind me as I'd had the shower first and he needed to prepare his daily fibre ritual. Now concerned about making our boat, we finally hopped into a cab, with as usual a driver who spoke no English (mainland China ain't HongKong). Despite clearly indicating the tourist docks on the map in Chinese writing, he proceeded to take us on a wild goose chase through town (albeit with smile on his face and the apparent intention of being very helpful). Finally we pulled into a travel agency who was able to sell us tickets for the river boat.

We opted for the Chinese language tour, as it was cheaper than the English tour, and all we really wanted to do was get downriver to Yangshuo. Our seats were at the front of the river boat dining hall, and no sooner had the last passenger arrived , that the guide got on the mic and began a long winded discourse in chinese, about 10 decibels too loud. DJ had his earplugs but I had to take refuge on the top deck. No more chincing on the English tour...
The cruise turned out to be spectacular as the green Li River limestone sugarloaf mountains and the lush river banks were truly like nothing I had seen, except perhaps on a chinese cabinet or coffee table, by artists who've been inspired by this place for millenia.

It was another hot day and upon debarking the boat we were greeted by a 25ish girl offering tour guide services. A little tired and sunbeat from all the travelling we ditched the Lonely Planet guidebook and let her lead us to a hotel. Turns out the hotel was quite nice, well located, new clean and with a stylized chinese interior of cream and wood floors, of course with internet, and air con. Not bad for 100 Yuan (1$=Y6.6). Mesmerized by the town of cobbled streets, and typical chinese house with the pagoda style roofs, we snatched a bunch of pics, and proceeded on to rent motor scooters to explore the countryside. Again just stunning; with the limestone peaks like a forest of giants, in between were rice paddies and fertile fields of green and gold. The odd farmer pruning his terraces, working his ox, or even herding his ducks. Just classic. We soon arrived to a riverside docking point for 2 person with a steerer rafts, and were convinced to take the slow ride down the river.

Every 100 yards or so there was a refreshment raft, and another rafter or so, but the tranquility and relaxation of the ride took over and transported you to another time. Pondering the age of this place and its timeless formations, we got into one of our philosophical discussions. DJ, true a wealth wealth of knowledge on the theories about the origins of man and civilization, shared with me the theorum that man is actually an aquatic ape; as opposed to our land originated primate cousins, the reason why we have smooth skin is it was for swimming through the water. We have hair only on the top of our heads as that is where children would hang on to as we swam. Our pointed noses also for aerodynamics and taking side breaths as we smim. Even the fatty breasts on humans were so that they would float above the water for nursing. Finally the fact that babies can be born naturally into water, was cited as proof for this.

After another glorious day in the Li and Dragon river valleys, we took an early morning tour the following day to Longsheng a center for the dong and Zhong ethnic minorities. Through mountainous countryside of river valleys we went, and were delighted to see old Chinese traditional wood houses all about. These huge homes all had the classic wedge shaped tile roofs, that winged out on the sides, and had the crescent shaped horns stylizing each roof end. We arrived at a village high in the valley renknowned for its leagues of perfectly shaped rice terraces rising the slopes. We also got to pose for some shots with the famous long-haired Dong ladies, and other girls dressed in traditional garb. Come early afternoon it was time to head off with our private driver back to the Guilin train station for our long overland journey deep into Yunnan province of south central China.

The train ride to Kunming was a whopping 18 hours, fortunately the sleeping car was comfortable, and our car-mates; an american student from UCAL Long Beach, and a young chinese professional, were quiet and easy going. That in contrast to the horking sounds of some of the nationals in the cars in front of us... The smoking and spitting that one finds in many places, even in restaurants, is not one of the pleasant points. Overall, it was pretty amazing to train through China past different coutryside towns and landscapes. Going from field, to forest, to tunnel, to town with dickensonian like smokestacks belching in an otherwise green and rural environment. It was clear to see in many places the contrast between old and new China. Scattered throughout the fields and hills, in many places were what looked like small white stone tombs; my guess is that these are where the ancestors are burried and worshipped. It was just awesome to be deep into the Middle Kingdom.

We arrived at the train station the next morning around 11 and I had but Y200 left in my pocket. A bit of concern set in when we couldnt find any ATMs that took international cards even at the airport. As luck would have it I spotted a dusty old ATM behind an escalator and under some scafolding. It worked. We were also lucky to get the last two plain tickets up to Lijiang, the ancient, and now touristy town, high up in northwest Yunan province, near the Tibetan plateau.

Upon arrival in Lijiang we knew we were in a different place, northwest Yunan province borders the Tibetan plateau. Its cooler dryer air were a welcome relief to the heat and humidity we'd been experiencing so far. When we saw Naxi herders, with their fur hats, leading their horses and Yaks, we knew we were in Central Asia. We got lost in the old town a couple times looking for our hostal, and finally the lady at the tourist info office had to escort us to a guesthouse. We got one in the upper old town with a great view of the tyled roofs and the mountains beyond. The old town was truly incredible, old traditional homes lining narrow cobbled streets, with small canals and bridges lined intermitently through it. It turned out that Lijiang was a tourist Mecca, with Chinese all over the country drawn to it charm and thronging the streets. In particular it was a party town for your people, and hence the a full street of bars and clubs was just pumping. DJ ended up meeting a rather cute friend, so I left them to give them a little privacy and went off wandering and to grab a bite. The Naxi menu is worth a mention featuring such delicacies as; Yak blood and rice served in intestines, many delectible parts of the duck in their own glorious servings of; kidney, or liver, gizzard or gut; chicken feet, stomach, or how about tender beef with chinese caterpillar fungus? Etc. etc.

The next day I grabbed breakfast and set off early to rent a bike to peddle to the sights uptown and in the countryside. The Black Dragon pool, was a lovely park complete with lake, stone bridge and pagoda, with the stunning backdrop of the snow-capped Himalayas to the northwest. I was asked to be in the picture with a young chinese couple - asking to be in people's picture happens a lot, I presume because they don't see many white people in the middle of China. Upon exiting the park, unlocking my bike, peddling away I noticed a dragging on my back wheel. A flat! I was annoyed, but relieved that I was only ten minutes down the road from the rental place, and not in the middle of the countryside. I tried to get a taxi to take me back, but he was reluctant to fit the bike in, so I ended up dragging it back to the rental on foot and the quickly exchanged it for another one, and was back on my way. The ride on the long flat 9km road out of town had me break a serious sweat, as despite the altitude the midday sun beat down hard. Swigging regularly from my water bottle, within an hour I was at the historic Dongbai village of Baishe. After visiting some old palaces featuring famous 14th and 15th century frescoes, I was off for a peddle through town and into the countryside. A bee sting was the second whammy of the trip, but today nothing was going to get me down. That night we of course hit the town and "cut a rug" at Sakaru one of the famous clubs in China, according to Viviane a cute but strange girl we had met the day before. Again a good time was had and, the novelties we were, met a bunch of new people that night. The next day we were off to the bus station and to Dali, our next destination.
Episode III: Lemony Snickets, the Plot Thickens, Really…

Last we left off, DJ and I were leaving Lijiang in the Northwest Yunan highlands, near the Tibetan border. The bus trip through the highlands was spectacular with grassy green mountains, and valleys patterned with rice paddies and other crops and beautiful blue lakes. We arrived in Dali early evening and walked among the tourists in the streets of its old town. It was bizarre to have minority Bai women offer "ganga" to you every 100m or so, but then again, this was Dali, the traditional hippy trail backpacker haven in China. That night we grabbed a late meal that took forever to come, but was delicious despite me having to eat on one side of my mouth, due to my worsening toothache.

The next morning, I'd planned to fix the tooth, but by the time DJ was up, he had already arranged us a tour of Ehu Lake. Tooth having subsided, I was ok with that, and we set out with our private guide and van driver. Ah Dali, the town was set on a 250sq/km highland lake, surrounded by high green mountains and dotted with villages and temples on its contour. Our destination was the Shaping market. We were not dissapointed on arrival to find it thronging with minority Dai women, in the azure traditional robes, and headdresses, among a smattering of other regional ethnic minorities. We were coaxed by one into sitting down to have what turned out to be the best meal so far. Dai stir fried vegetables and beef, a potatoe, onion, eggplant corriander and other spiced salad, and some delicious pork tenderloin slices accompanied with a dip of a fantastic sauce that was soy, lime, pepper and chile like, out of this world. I nearly bought what appeared to be an antique silver dragon bracelet, but opted out. In the process the old lady peddling it followed me right out of the market to the van dropping her price 90 fold in the process.

On the way around the lake, wanting to take a picture we stumbled upon a religious ceremony of hundreds of Dai women, in a temple courtyard. It was so trippy to see them huddled around, chanting, and beating on drums, fully into this spiritual seance, with the smell of insense filling the warm afternoon air. The event got us on the topic of religion, and our own faith. DJ and I too perhaps are rational-based, not your typical religious type guys; among other things we discussed chapters in the Bible where prophesized events apparently have come to pass.

The next day we headed up the mountains on a chairlift for an afternoon trail hike. Througout the day, the topic of impending economic armageddon was dominant, interspersed with some banter of our hometown Burlington, characters from the past and raves back in the day. DJ is convinced that a major economic depression at least akin to 1929 is nearly upon us. I must solemnly admit his arguments are pretty convincing. Afterwards, I managed to get to a dental clinic with English on the sign. After a long ordeal with challenging communication, apparently my tooth was fixed. The first 9 hours of the next day was spent on a bus to Ruili a once raucous town near the Burmese border. Partly we wanted to investigate the feasibility of crossing into Myanmar (Burma), and for the balance we just wanted to get way off the tourist track and see the culture of far off border town in the golden triangle.

Ruili apparently had seen its heyday 5-10 years ago, when it was a hub for trade with Burma, licit and ilicit, including the heroin trade. It was full of dance clubs where gangsters and wannabe gangsters mingled, and prostitution also abounded. 5 years ago there was a crackdown, and the place was quite a bit quieter than described. There were still a few clubs around, and we indulged in great 3 dollar massages both days (the legit kind!). The first day we explored the market and after much hesitation enjoyed a decent hotpot meal. We ere the only non-asians (we saw) in the entire town, and no English was spoken, not even at out "luxury" highrise hotel. That night I got my hair cut trim, and a girl we met at the salon, took us to a pretty rocking club. Some good hard electronica was pumping and the place full with partiers. On the TV screens was a massive rave in Brighton UK, followed by a NIN concert. I bought a 12-pack of bud and the girls we met kept filling up the beer shot glases, and before we knew it we were pissed. The strangest thing was late night around 2am as we were leaving, we noticed a stairway upstairs. I lost DJ, for a minute, and followed it up 4 floors. Each floor was filled with lounge like rooms, some of them with girls, others with girls and guys. Karaoke rooms I later found out. There were floors up higher, I don't know how much, it was strange, and I felt like I was in the twilight zone. We got the feel that the girls were "rentals" (hookers), but it was nothing blatant and in your face. DJ, felt he'd figured it out; in Asia guys pay for girls just to hang out with them, and only exceptionally does it go all the way. Go figure, Asia is really a different planet.

The next day is when calamnity struck, after paying a cab, and another failed attempt at finding a travel agency to point us out to a bike rental, I had to go. As not unusual the hotel we thought was a travel agency did not have toilet paper in its public washroom. I went across the street to by a wad and reached into my pocket to find my wallet not there. I Immediately felt that dropping feeling, and frantically tapped all my pockets - just the guide books... I retraced my steps to no avail. The travel disaster situation had happened. I was in shock. I strongly considered calling the trip off. At this point DJ as well was not sure if he would carry on either. A glitch had come up in his prospective new e-business, his manager was not handling well some issues in his other business in his absence, and he wanted to visit Joy, the cute Chinese girl he'd met in Lijiang. DJ offered me the $1000 cash he'd been carrying, and I hesitatingly decided to carry on.

Man what a blow. We decided to by air tickets out of Riuli and part ways in Kunming. Myanmar was definitely out as I needed somewhere at least marginally mainstream to have my cards sent. I would fly south to Jinghong China near the Laos border, and DJ was going to Guilang, in Guangdong province to visit Joy. I was nervous about heading out on my own, with cash as my only lifeline. Its strange to be cut off from "the matrix" your finances, credit cards. I'd have to figure out western union, or having my cards sent, and having someone by my flight back to HongKong from Bangkok. We landed at the Kunming airport, and had about 30mins to check in, and (DJ) pull out some cash from the ATM we had luckily found last time behind some scafolding. We quickly realized construction had progressed rapidly at the airport in the week+ since we were last there. Before lending me the grand, DJ needed to try his bank card he'd had trouble with the other day, and we couldn't find the ATM! We realized it was now completely behind tarp blocked off scafolding, you could hear the construction going-on on the other side. Even worse though, was the stern looking olive clad, with captain hats, chinese soldiers on guard near where we hoped to sneak under the tarp to reach the ATM. Since it was his card, I was hoping DJ would go for it, but no such luck, he gave me his pin code. Thrice I meant to get through a spot where the tarp wasn't fixed to the ground, but was called back by DJ, as the soldiers, or other airport officials were looking or coming our way. Finally I had a window and went for it. On the other side a confused young construction worker looked my way - I point to the bank card and motioned to him like it was ok. Remember this is China, and the rules are the rules.. I managed to step over debris and scafolding and find the ATM about 40meters down. It didn't work, when I got back to the portal, DJ was standing in front of it, and pushed me back in as I tried to exit, two cops were walking by, but fortunately didn't see the ruffle. Relieved just to be out, DJ insisted I go back in, try 1500 hundred this time. Reluctantly I went back in, what choice did I have. This time a success.

It was difficult parting ways, especially given my circumstance. I was deep in thought on that lone flight south; on my future, both immediate and longer term. Close to landing again the scenery was uniquely spectacular, I saw the mighty Mekong brown with sediment wind its way through dense rainforest and green mountain scapes. As we closed in the forest gave way to line patterned green, human cultivated, but uniform, unlike anything I'd seen. I was approached by a driver in an unmarked car, a cute girl I'd seen on the flight looked like she was getting in too, so I took the risk. They were obviously trying to find my hotel, but to no avail. The girl did a spoon like motion to her mouth, and I understood she was inviting me to eat. I really just wanted to settle into my hotel, still being in a downer mood, but figured I should try to be social to get the cultural experience. At this point I had less than $100 in Chinese Yuan, and didn't want to figure out changing more dollars before Laos. We were dropped off outside a modern restaurant complex and met by her 3 friends, all cute and 20years old I later discovered. Conversation was extremely limited but we managed to laugh alot between the one girl's basic English and my Mandarin phrasebook. Wondering if they wanted me to pay for everything, it turns out that they bought me dinner. Not only that, but they found me a nice inexpensive hotel, and after leaving an hour to shower and freshen up, took me out to a great club afterwards. The club was pumping, and I could feel the confidence of a cool young China, rising in confidence and optimistism.

The next day I biked around town and the outskirts, and took it easy under the monsoon season heat. I met an Italian-Guyanes couple who studied in Edinburg, and also an interesting aussie named Adam. Adam and I head for Laos together tomorrow. Oh and I just got and email from DJ, who wants to rendezvous with me in a couple days. Looks like we'll be doing the Mekong river trip together after all.

Episode IV: Laos

So last we left off I was on my way to Laos by bus through the southernmost tip of China, with my new travel friend Adam Gaensler. Adam's a rather sharp, fun loving australian Jewish fellow. Asides the name in common he's also multilingual with short cropped hair, and was wearing the same khaki short, white shirt, and flip flops uniform as I. It took about 4 hours to arrive in Mengla near the Lao border.

While in Mengla we met a money-changer / rickshaw driver / entrepreneur I'll call Tom. In a nutshell Tom was tried to arrange a marriage between me and his daughter who was studying arts in Dali. This all in the 30mins or so between lunch and the transfer to the other bus station for the final 1 hour stretch to the border. After getting my visa stamp, I noticed that instead of giving me the normal 30, they had given me but 8 days in the country. Upon complaining the border officer proceeded to liquidpaper the date on the stamp. I said, no, no, no, that was a recipe for disaster for me when I tried to leave Laos. He conceded in giving me another stamp, and we were on our way.

Across the border I went to change dollars into Lao Kip, a currency with at least 3 zeros too many (8500 kip/ dollar). Now as you'll recall, I lost all my cards, and only have cash on me. Well, I had been sweating quite hard in the heat, and when I pulled off my money belt, all the bills were wet. DJ, had warned me about keeping the bills in perfect condition, and sure enough Ben Franklin's face had smothered off in about half of the 7 bills in my possession. The changer finally accepted one of the in better shape bills. My useful cash inventory had apparently dropped substantially...

We boarded a pick-up outfitted with make-shift benches and a tarp roof for the next hour ride to Luang Nam Ha our destination. The hilly northern Lao countryside was beautiful, and it was obvious we were out of China, by the rudimentary brown wooden banana leafed huts that dotted the rice fields. Luang Nam Ha, was a roadside town, nothing special in appearance, but used as a base for treks into the nearby national park and hill tribe villages. We spent the evening trying new foods at the market, and then chilling out and discussing life, ladies, relationships, and all that jazz. I learned, that asides being a music and English teacher, Adam was in 3 bands and he also had me listen to some of the psy-trance he was really into.

The next day I went on a trek with a group of Israelis through the national park jungle, and to an Akha ethnic minority village. The Akha were originally from Tibet, but were driven down into Laos 400 years ago, by other chinese peoples. I was the only one to really eat the food, as most of my colleagues kept Kosher. But our Akha hosts didn't seem to care. All throughout the region it seems the the site of western tourists are a draw to the local people especially children. The whole time we ate, the kids huddled close out of curiosity. The two tales that stood out for me of the Akha people were as follows: At about 15, each boy builds his own "love hut" in the village, where he brings his girlfriend. If the relationship is not fruitful, they split up and he couples with another, and so on until the girl ends up pregnant. At that time, the parents are advised and a marriage is planned. The other being the morbid story of having twins. Up to about 10 years ago if more than one child is born to a couple it was considered a bad omen "like animals have multiple births". The whole village would then show up to the hut, ask the parents to leave, and exterminate the offspring.

The day after, Adam and I parted ways, and I headed to Huay Xai, where I was to get the river boat for the two day cruise down the Mekong, to Luang Prabang. The cruise was a good way to see the countryside, but not quite as good as I expected. Of the 100 people packed on the two by two benches on board, about 98 were western foreigners. We did pass some nice scenery as the muddy fast-flowing mekong winded its way across the hilly landscape. I befriended a New Zealand couple the first day, and hung out with them on the first night stopover in Pakbeng. We took in a moment smoke by the river at dusk while the fruit bats felw about overhead. DJ was meant to meet up with me either there, or the next day, Friday, in Luang Prabang.

After another 7 hours or so on the boat, we arrived late afternoon in Luang Prabang. Unlike the others this place is truly a gem. A fusion of french colonial architecture interspringled with Lao palaces and Wats (temples). The old town is on a peninsula formed by the juncture of two rivers with little restaurants, cafes, and bars throughout. I spent a pleasant 3.5 days, having breakfast and finishing my Hemingway novel on the banks of the river, and biking and touring around. I met a bunch of new traveller friends there, including Claudio a super friendly 28 year old swiss travel agent, and world traveller who was heading back to Europe via the Beijing to Moscow train. Finally DJ arrived on the Sunday night with a slew of stories to tell...

Things pretty much shut down in Luang Prabang by midnight and after accompanying DJ for a late snack we sat talking some more on our beds before sleep. At that moment DJ noticed a bite of some sort, but no mosquitos aroud. He then glampsed a couple small marks on the bedding. He then uttered the creepy word's "I hope there aren't bed bugs here..". Earlier in the trip the Doc had told me how he once was attacked by bed bugs in Hawaii, and that this pest of the past once thought to be eliminated, was making a comeback. Alas he pulled up the sheet and saw a little round black critters no larger than the head of a nail scurry by. Then another light grey coloured tiny baby, and another... We were infested! We had nowhere else to go or sleep and proceeded to eliminate as many as we could, DJ squashing them, and me incinerating them with a lighter. Finally, in order to sleep I in the less infested bed covered myself in clothes head to toe, and doused myself in repellent. DJ managed to get a lounge chair from the hall, and we soon fell into an uneasy sleep. We had survived until the morning.

From Luang Prabang it was off to the laid back Lao capital Ventiane, 10 hour bus. We'd skipped the regular backpacker stopover of VangVien, where beautiful scenery, booze tubing down the river, and westerners partying was the reputation. On the bus ride we'd noticed a multicultural couple of a Turkish guy, probably in his late thirties, with an attractive Lao girl in her early twenties. We thought she might have been flirting as she continuously smiled at us with those big doe eyes. We learned they planned to marry and she would soon go to Turkey. Somehow we got the impression that perhaps she was having second thoughts about the guy or Turkey and may have been trying to tell us something. From the bus, DJ and I, and the couple in question took a pick-up taxi to our respective lodgings. We speculated some more on how she may not know what she was getting into, going to a muslim country where the position of women is quite different. She was truly stunning with her smile and invited us to visit them at their relatives but in our tired states we failed to get her address.

The following day we visited the sights of Vientiane, and enjoyed a couple nice meals and cold beers by the river. I'd since deferred the matter of the girl on the bus to DJ, who never one to miss out on a cultural experience went back to the bus station to find her. We were departing again that night on a night bus, when I got to the station, no DJ. Had he found the girl? I thought. Barely ten minutes prior to departure "the Doc" saunters up with a story of after many a false call, finally finding the taxi driver at the last possible hour, and heading deep into the real Vientiane's maze of neighbourhoods. We made the night sleeper bus. Yes a bus stacked with beds inside it. And arrived that morning in Pakse in order to catch a flight to Cambodia.

Episode V: Cambodia

We landed at the Siem Riep airport at around 9am that Friday morning, tired after crossing half of Laos the night before It was a modern airport designed with Angkorian accentuated roofs, a testament to the tourism boom of Angkor Wat had brought in recent years. Immediately from the language and darker complexions it was obvious we were in a a different land. Whereas the Lao are closely related to the northern Thai, the Cambodians or Khmer people trace their origins south to Malaysia. Wanting to see the main sights all in one day in order to keep on schedule, we quickly secured a hotel and driver-guide.

The temple complex was about 15 minutes tuk tuk ride outside the city. On the way over it started to rain so we threw on a couple plastic parkas. It was a soft tropical rain that provided relief from the heat, so we weren't bothered. Sopheat our sturdy guide informed that at nearly 10 square km, Angkor was an ancient city to rival Rome in its day. During the 12th century, while London had a population of 40,000, half a million people lived and worked around the Angkorian capital city. Surrounded at all sides by a wide water-filled moat, there were only four bridged entrances to the city, one at each compas point NSEW. The bridge was guarded by statues of demons holding the Nagah; great snake god of old Hindu/ Buddhist lore. Crossing the bridge into the gate tower, I was delighted by the sight of monkeys clamboring along the old stone walls. In times past the moat was filled with alligators, and tigers (now since relegated to a few remote corners of the country) roamed the jungle outside the city walls.

We first visited Angkor Thom, the main town, its walls were adorned by elaborate sculptings of the trials of the Khmer (Cambodian) people. Mainly their victories, defeats, and exodii in their civilizational struggles with the Cham to the east, and the Siamese (Thai) to the west. Prominent among the ruins were giant stone sculpted heads, which we learned were composites of the Buddha with the Angkorian King Supphordiat (or something like that).

Outside the temple Darren searched out the coconut selling girl, Pow, he'd met on his first trip to Cambodia, after a couple unsuccesful querries to find her, there she was. It was the big event of the day I'm sure among the community of mainly young people and kids peddling their wares around the stalls. Cambodia you see is truly a nation of young people. In part due to the tragic Khmer Rouge Episode of Cambodian history a mere quarter century ago. More on that later. I think Darren only wanted to say hello for nostalgic reasons, but perhaps inadvertently by our guide she got invited out to dinner with us. She said she would be bringing a friend, hence I had a blind date in store that night.

We then visited the "Jungle Temple" overgrown with giant twisting tropical trees and their anaconda like roots. It was made famous when Angelina Jolie filmed "Tomb Raider" there. Finally we visited Angkor Wat or "Temple", a giant piramidal complex dedicated to the God Vishnu. Featuring 5 main pagoda towers, it was on a scale to match any of the ancient wonders of the world. That night we met up with Pow and discovered my blind date happenned to be her mother. After the meal and beautiful traditional Khmer dance show, we said our goodbyes to the ladies and headed solo to explore a few of the local bars and clubs.

The next morning we were off early to catch a boat across the Tonle Sap to Battambang. Arriving at the swampy third world docking area just outside of town DJ was on my cell with our hotel arranging to have the camera pack he'd left behind sent to us. That delayed our boarding. By the time we got there the big boat was full. To our dismay we were directed onto a smaller unsteady narrow boat with no open deck. A sweat trap at best. The tourists were packed onto its wooden benches, and some were complaining, including the Doc. He whispered to me to grab my bag... we were going onto the other boat. As I climbed up to the roof of our boat, an irate Dutch lady said don't do it! She had already been scolding the boat captain for putting us on that unsafe contraption. Little did she know I was making my escape or so I thought.. My bag had been fastened on not with the buckle, but with a tightly pulled knot. Bastards. The boat was about to leave, DJ yelled hurry up! I frantically tried to untie it but it was on too tight. I fiddle in my bag for my swiss army knife, pulled it out, and tried to cut loose my strap. Dull blade. The big boat with DJ on it was now pulling away, I hadn't made it. I was pissed, but a couple of Scottish girls who had climbed onto the roof to sun tan consoled me and persuaded me to stay on the roof where at least there'd be more air, space and a view.

The Tonle sap is a natural wonder in its own right. A giant lake, river, and swamp in one, it expands from 2500 sq km in the dry season to 13000 in the wet. Its said to have the greatest fish diversity anywhere, and asides from some water-side floating towns along its main river corridor, is for the most part remote and wild. Whenever we did float by a hut on stilts or a floating village, we were greeted by half naked smiling and waving children. It was fantastic to experience this distant, raw and beautiful tropical land in the open air atop the boat. The warmth of the Cambodian people had already made a mark on me. Over the course of the journey a Dutchman and Brit also joined us on the roof. At one point we were warned to get down as we'd pass through a narrow channel. We opted to stay above, and played block and duck with lifejackets from a constant barrage of overhanging branches and brush!

Late that afternoon we arrived in Battambang, and strolled around town with David, a brit a few years our junior who DJ'd met on his boat. Battambang was a busy market town, with the humm of motorscooters whizzing buy, and sounds of commerce filling the air. We had some delicious curry on a rooftop terrace, admiring the green fields off in the distance and sunset descending below the hills. We then set off on a pleasant evening stroll content just to be, in passing, part of this different world.

The following day we rented motor bikes, and hired a guide to take us around the countryside. Being the first time I rented a motor "bike, as opposed to "scooter", I was happy when I quickly got used to the foot clutch, and added power! The day turned out to be magic. We zoomed past endless rice paddies and peasants tending the fields. Here a Wat (temple) adorned with dragons, lotus flowers, and of course the Buddha. There a child smiling, waving and yelling "helloooooo!". We visited a mountain top monastery, crashed a traditional Khmer wedding, and hit some old Angkorian ruins on a hilltop. Oh I can't forget 10km down on the bamboo rail car - a twelve foot rolling platform with outside diesel engine propelling us across the old french built tracks.

Our last site that day was viewing the giant fruit bats resting under the palms, safe in the courtyard of a Buddhist Wat. Anywhere else they'd already have been someone's lunch, or breakfast... DJ, a big fan of the show "bizarre foods" decided we should try bat so the following day we made a special trip with our guide to eat bat at his place. The fact that they kept their shape made me hesitant, but fortunately these were of a smaller variety. Soon enough we were mauing down on the meat that tasted of course like chicken (as strange meets are often described).

DJ was perturbed for some reason when he found out the bus our guide suggested we take to Phnom Penh, was not the company he expected. It left from a shoddy third world bus station, but nothing that we hadn't seen many times before. DJ said several times we shouldn't be on this bus. "Like a premonition I asked", not being a complete sceptic of the notion. "Oh I don't know" said the doc. Partly I thought he was unhappy about being squished in the back of a dirty old bus. But his inquisitive mind kept mulling it over; "were our bags safe" he pondered. There was definitely more to this malaise that wouldn't leave him and it had me nervous. The driver was driving awfully fast. We continued for a half hour or more, when suddenly I feel the bus swerving. Looking out the window we were swerving at about 100km an hour on a curvy two lane highway! We had veered to avoid a car that had just dangerously passed a truck. We were carreening off the road when the driver yanked it to a hard left. Nearly having flipped we were now speeding toward the trees on the right. Did this thing have breaks!? We're we going to make it!? I kind of froze up as this precarious event violently unfolded. It felt surreal, but finally the bus regained control and we were on our way. It could have been our end, and for the second time in my life I'd seen strong evidence for credence in premonitions.

I was surprised how quickly I felt back to normal after that incident, but I guess death can be "like a thief in the night", and if you are spared, you know not that he was there. We arrived in Phnom Penh around 8pm, already dark but still humid, and grabbed a cab to the Angkor International Hotel. The scene in the lobby and adjoining patio had an odd feel; a western girl on her laptop, a two older white men with some young Cambodian ladies, and a backpacker couple. We quickly showered up and headed out for a bite and to check out the town. We told a took took driver to take us to "Heart of Darkness" the place to go where tourists and locals go, and where perhaps the majority of ladies in the venue were not there "on the job".

Arriving (3 blocks from where we were staying as it turns out) it was still early for the club, and we decided to grab a bite elsewhere in the neighbourhood. We passed a couple seedy looking spots, with calls from the girls hanging out there to join them, before deciding on a brighter more decent looking establishment called Shanghai. Asides from a few tourists, here again it was full of Cambodian... waitresses? this time in neat black stretch uniforms. Apparently in addition to serving many were just there to hang out with you for a tip. After several minutes ignoring the smiles coming from all sides, a couple of them just sat right down at our table. Oh well, they were conversant in English and seemed bright enough. My mexican fajitas and beer were good, and after a small tip (it would have been wrong not to) I said nice talking to you and we were on our way.

We walked around some more but it quickly became apparent that all around were seedy bars, pubs, massage parlours and straight-up brothels. The small red neon lights illuminating the latter were like bugs eyes in the shadows of the cheaply lit streets of the Cambodian Capital. This was wild Asia's dark side. The sex industry was big and blatant here. A testament to the poverty and corruption that still blights Cambodia. I wondered how many of these girls were in it just for the cash; to feed their families; or sold or forced into it as slaves. We finally hit the "Heart of Darkness" a fitting name indeed given its surroundings. Inside it had a dark cave-like decor with black-grated heart shaped candle boxes creating ambience. You had a mixed bag of backpacker tourists, locals, expats, and others dancing to the techno beats, or enjoying a drink amid the bar banter. I got chatted up by and danced with a Cambodian medical student for a short while, but called it an early night.

The next morning we visited the Killing Fields and then the Tuol Slen genocide museum. A four story tower of skulls at the former, and a high school converted into a torture gallery being the latter. These provided a stark physical reminder of the horrors of the Pol Pot regime. The Khmer Rouge killed up to 3 million people or 40% of the Cambodian people, in the marxist "rice Utopia" they aimed to create. Anyone educated, a civil servant, not fitting the mold, or simply related to one of these were fodder for the slaughter that ocurred here, in our lifetime, between 1975-1980. It ended only after one too many Khmer Rouge massacre over the Vietnamese border prompted that neoghbouring country to invade. Not only was the genocide massive, but it was carried out in the cruelest of methods. As much as I tried, there was no way to rationalize what happenned here. The best one can do is acknowledge that a broken country was taken over by a sadistic criminal gang driven by ideology and class hatred.

We finished the day on a brighter note touring the grand presidential palace, its gardens temples and museums, and then enjoying a late afternoon curry meal down by the river. The next morning, I took a stroll through the large bustling and labyrinth like market just down the street. Large whole squid, frogs, eels, and maggots are a few of the products that stood out. Beyond the open air courtyard was a maze of covered alleys where you could find anything from a hardware store, restaurant, and barber. Busy and raw the Penh becomes a normal third world city by day, with most roads in its center now paved.

For the short week we were there, we had experienced so much in Cambodia. With its raw beauty, and the friendliness and optimism of its people "for the future cannot be worse than the past", Cambodia had struck a chord in my heart. After noon we set off by boat to Vietnam and the Mekong delta.

Episode VI: Vietnam Part 1

So last off we were heading down the Mekong river by fast boat from Phnom Penh to the Vietnamese border town of Chau Doc (We'd missed the slow boat by seconds). We had to get off the boat twice at border posts, once in Cambodia, the second in Vietnam for the exit and entry formalities. While waiting for the passport check into Vietnam, cooler winds had begun to blow from the east and were quickly driving a dark grey sheet of rain clouds over the sunny late afternoon sky. I recall saying hello to a few friendly children on the adjacent red clay road and taking notice of the differences in appearances in this new land; lots of bycicles, conical hats, and traditional dress. After arriving at the riverside pier in Chau Doc, we grabbed a couple bycicle drawn carts and were pulled to the guest house for that evening. Immediately it became apparent why the Doc called Vietnam "The Motorcycle Civilization", as the streets were like a flowing river of bycicles and motor scooters, their buzz accentuating the liveliness of the place. This I guess was unsurprising as with 84 million people, Vietnam is one of the more populated countries. Vietnam is its own civilization. More than its indochinese southeast asian neighbours, it has a strong sino influence ingrained in over one thousand years of Chinese domination. DJ told me he was in a hurry (so no diddle dallying at the guest house if I wanted to join him on an evening tour).

We hired a couple of motorcycle drivers and zoomed off to see the sights. First, we headed a quarter hour outside of town to a hump shaped mountain emerging from the flat delta plain. After whirling our way to the top we stopped the bikes and took in a panoramic view of the flat Mekong delta at dusk. By this time the sun had already dissapeared over the horizon, but still lit the skye a dark red, with a glaze of orange and yellow followed by a faded blue darkenning into a night sky. Darren and I shared a cigarette we'd bummed off our motor bike driver, and took in the moment. He indicated westward to Cambodia where the land was darker and commented how this was due in part to the lower development and populational levels of of that country. We then zoomed back to town and checked out a famous Cao Dai temple with its elaborate statues of chinese deities, dragons, buddhas and cardinals. Yes cardinals as in the Catholic Church, they even have a Pope. Cao Dai is a strange blend of Buddhist, Taoist, Confucian, and Catholic traditions which have all been woven into the Vietnamese fabric over the centuries. There was a small group of worshippers, some chanting; it all seemed surreal and, anachronistic under the electric lighting and the smell of incense rounded out the ambience.

The next day it was off to Can Tho, famous for its floating markets. En route we hit a Cham village, with its mosque (most of Vietnam's Cham minority people are muslim), and visited a fish farm. We had the afternoon off in Can Tho, and I went off on my own looking for a bank machine to see if the new debit card I picked up at the fedex office in Phnom Penh would work. I walked around the hot streets, sweat dripping off my forehead for half an hour looking for a bank machine with the Plus system that would work. After doing a big several block loop I checked out an ATM I'd skipped the first time round, and sure enough it was what I was looking for. That night we grabbed a quiet meal at a nice touristy restaurant sitting by a large open air window by the street in front of the river. I enjoyed a tasty sweet and sour fish soup. Being a week night, and feeling there was not much going on in town, we grabbed a relaxing massage and called it an early night.

The next morning , Friday, we got on our tour, and visited the famous floating markets of the Mekong. Here wholesalers traded and bought goods from their wooden boats, many of them blue in colour and painted with two large eyes (done traditionally out of the belief they scared off crocodiles and other creatures). On the boat beside us was a very friendly athletic blonde hair blue eyed American guy named David who was in his mid to late twenties. He'd served several years in the US army including tours in Iraq and Afghanistan and was now taking up to 18 months to travel the world. He'd already spent more than a month in Indonesia and Malaysia, and planned to buy a motorbike to cross China with and then a boat to float down the Ganges in India. Now that's traveling!

We were meant to stay in My Tho another town in the delta. However with only a week and a half left, and satisfied with what we'd seen of the delta, we made the decison to cut the tour short and head straight to Saigon (its Ho Chi Minh city since the war, but Saigon just sounds cooler). our guide told us the harrowing tale of his experience as a north vietnamese guerrilla during the American War, what they naturally refer to what we call the Vietnam war. At one point he broke out into a Viet Cong marching song "Ho Chi Minh! Ho Chi Minh" and encouraged all of us on the bus to join along. Patriotic DJ was less than impressed and kept his silence. On the way to the capital of the south we had to all unboard our tour bus and walk onto a ferry to cross one of the legs of the delta and wade through dozens of motorscooterers in the process of getting on board. The massive new bridge under construction, a testament to fast developing Vietnam was halfway complete across the water. I reflected how life would soon change there. 10 minutes later as soon as we landed on the other side, all the passengers and motorbikes began to stream off. I followed David in the flow, not know exactly where DJ was. We ended up about 5 minutes down the road and waiting with others in our group under a large open-sided roof. While waiting David bought us both a delicious giant grapefruit type fruit from a street vendor. 5 mins later as we slurped and chatted with sticky hands DJ strolled up. His eyes a larger than usual he said to us "Didn't you notice I wasn't here". The comment was a little more directed at me I supposed. After David and I both explained a couple times how we'd never have left him and had just got caught up in the current of people coming off the boat things were cool. We re-boarded the bus and had entered the outskirts of Saigon within an hour.

It was evening rush hour and the sea and buzz of motorcycles was at its peak. This was the mothership, and I marvelled at it. The bus dropped us off at the Happy Tour tour company offices on Bui Vien street in the heart of Saigon's backpacker district. We took a nice hotel with a marble entrancedhotel and elevator. After showering up we headed out on the town, grabbing a meal at the outside table of a restaurant on the strip. The curry was good and the street lively as we began to plot out the clubs we wanted to hit. The Blue zone, had turned into Velvet, a second floor round room with island bar in the center and a series of booths and tables laid out in a concentric circle along the outside. It was a cool spot, but mainly high-end locals in groups of guys and girls, so we decided to hit somewhere else less group-structured. We checked out the rooftop jazz bar of a posh hotel. Three young vietnamese women in american Broadway dress were singing jazzed up versions of pop songs. One's pretty face, dyed blonde hair and "big eyes", made her hard not to notice. Finally we ended up at "Apocalypse Now" a large and hopping bar and dance club.

Apocalypse Now was a mix of expats, locals, and tourists playing top 40 dance music. Not as cool as its name, but at least it was going on. A lot of the girls as seemed often the case in Southeast Asian night spots appeared to be having fun but also "on the job". I made eye contact with a girl who seemed like a regular gal judging by her dress, her flinting not staring glampses and the the group of girls and guys she was with. So I walked up and said hello. After some dancing on the crowded floor, and a drink on the patio she suggested DJ, I and her friend go for a bite. I'd since discovered Huyen was her name and she was in credit card sales. It was about midnight when we cabbed over to a late night restaurand in a commercial building courtyard. The girls proceeded to order us several plates of food, include tripe (stomach lining) with noodles. Yum... After finishing what we could, we departed ways with the promise of a phone call.

The next day I'd wanted to take the 8am tour to the Cu Chi war tunnels that the VC had used to get to within 30km of Saigon and withstand massive American bombardment. But, after 3 days of 6am wakeups and long hot day tours, I decided to sleep-in and explore the city on my own rythm. DJ wasn't into seeing war historical sights so opted for his own agenda. A warm rain began to fall as I headed to the Presidential Palace on the back of a motorbike and driver I'd hired for a buck. Asides from its historical significance, and the war council rooms, where the president, generals, and american advisors directed the defense of the Republic of Vietnam, the site was mediocre. Leaving the Palace, the rain had really begun to pour, but determined to get a good feel of Saigon, I found another bike driver, hopped on back, and had him head to a few neighbourhoud temples referenced in my Lonely. It was just a joy to be motoring through Saigon's wide boulevards, roundabouts, and the organized chaos of its traffic. At a temple dedicated to some patron deiti of fishermen, I savoured the relaxing spiritual scent of incense and admired the colourful and ornate porcelaine statuettes arranged in traditional scenes all along the temple roof. On the way back towards the hotel, I had the guide stop at an outdoor market. Relishing just being at the spot, I nearly overlooked the poverty of the peasant women and child who I'd just passed some change to. I took a picture with them, but then felt a nudge of guilt for being so voyeurishly detached. I finished my custom tour at a noodle restaurant, sucking and slurping a large steamy bowl down with a good dose of hot chili sauce. My driver had been gracious, and along the way I stopped negotiating a dollar for each stop which was the norm. I counted 5 stops, and he asked for about $14. I offered $7, and when he threatenned to walk off in a fit upped it to $10. Reluctantly he took it but not without giving me the guilt trip act. I tried not to let this sour attitude detract from what had been a splendid afternoon reminding myself this was the aggressive side of Vietnamese commercial culture. I connected with DJ back at the hotel and we headed out to meet Huyen and her friend for a flick

The next day it was off to Nha Trang, on the day bus as Darren didn't like night buses - his tall stature made it that much harder to sleep on them. It was a flat right out to and up the coast. At a bathroom stop a duck herder just happenned to be hearding his 150 or so ducks alongside the highway, and we the tourist paparrazi jumped on it. Early afteroon the coach stopped in Muisne for lunch. Muisne was a beachside town famous for its surf and red sand dunes, and rapidly becoming one of the hot spots on the coach. I was tempted to stay but resolved to stay the course given the limited time left. DJ and I opted to eat at the restaurant beside the one in front of the bus and which the rest of the bus had chosen. We ordered Shanghai noodle soup which was meant to be on the quick menu. After 15mins or so, I opted to check on our bus. It was still there, and only a few people had returned to it. I asked an American war vet turned expat if he would make sure it did not leave without us. As an added measure I told driver where we were. Another 15mins went by and I told DJ I would meet him on the bus while he finished. A bus was there, but it didn't look like ours.. and it wasn't. Concern was gushing into my senses for our packs were on that bus. I found a guide on the other bus who apparently was affiliated with those on our tour bus, for he called them on his cell phone. He then whistled over a couple motorbike taxis and DJ, who'd by then arrived, and I jumped on back and were ferried about 5 mins up the road to where our bus had pulled over.

It wasn't until dusk that we arrived in Nha Trang, one of the major southern coast destinations and a large beach and port city. I was excited to experience its reputation for the best scuba diving in the country. Upon securing our guest house about a half block up from the boardwalk, I headed out to sess out the scuba tour operators. Blue Octopus who was full for the next morning warned me against using Happy Coral next door. Eventually I settled on Zone Divers, who said Happy Coral was fine. Such is the cutthroat world of scuba dive operators, the same trash your competitor attitude I'd encountered in Egypt the year before. Problem was you could never be sure if one bad-mouthed operator truly had poor standards, or one of their dive masters had slept with the girlfriend of the other school's DM. Zone divers was led by a couple of friendly French Canadian dive masters, and I was satisfied I'd made a good choice. I then proceeded to fetch DJ and we went to a more upscale restaurant and ordered delicious bowls of Thai Tom Yum soup and Vietnamese spring rolls. Back at the guest house I decided to grab a snapshot of the ornate ancestor shrine sitting quaintly in a square cut out of the wooden reception desk. Its manger like arrangement of the Chinese wise old men representing; health and longevity, Happiness with children, and Money was of course illuminated with the typical red Christmas tree lights adding to the ambience.

I was up at 7:30am in anticipation for the 8:30am pickup, it was a gloriously sunny day. The van took us about 10mins down the road to the boat launch, and soon we were off into the greater Nha Trang Harbour. The midsize wooden vessel had two decks, the upper propped over the central cabin provided a roof over the lower deck. We all sat on benches framing the sides at the bow, the back of the boat is where the equipment is stored and the jump platform was located. The scenery was beautiful. We hummed past points of lime green land, framed by light yellow sand beaches. beyond the town were the coastal mountains, and in the coves blue wooden fishing boats gently swaying at their anchor. A very friendly finnish young divemaster named Trysha was to be my guide and after offering me a great-tasting cup of Vietnamese coffee, she carefully helped me refresh my memory on the key rules of diving. 45 minutes went by almost unnoticeably and when arrived at our dive spot across from the island marine preserve.

The small hassle of getting your equipment ready and attached that was part of diving school, did not exist here on my first ever pleasure dive. They had it all ready for you; all you had to do was sit on the bench as they sized you up for flippers and a mask, and fitted the tanks on your back. Before I knew it I was taking that heavy hop into the water and bobbing in the warm clear waters of the South China Sea. Breathing compressed air like Darth Vader, I descended, spotting first a couple baby tuna, then a small jelly fish, then another, transparent and slow-moving propelled by their rippling skirts. We got to the sandy bottom, and saw the odd clownfish stirring up sand as it searched for its tiny meal. The bottom become rockier, and I spotted a black moray eel hovering slowly back into its crevace as I approached. A little further I hovered over a white brain corral, then a purple carpet of sea anemonies swaying in the current. Soon I was in the midst of a marvelous underwater garden. Flying alongside a sheer wall on the reef I came across a purple and white striped spikey shrimp, and there a clawless lobster. Soon after the DM led me into an underwater cave I could barely fit into. A little apprehensive at first I was rewarded by a dazzling school of shiny gold coloured fish covering the entire wall of the cave. The glimmer of their scales from the sunlight shining through the cave mouth was I sight I shall not soon forget.

On the boat ride back to Nha Trang another diver and myself got talking with Richard the slightly plump and jolly Quebecois Divemaster in his late thirties who had sold me on the tour the night before. In a very open and friendly manner, he told how he'd been working in the region for several years. He loved Thailand, and was sour on Vietnam because you always had to watch your back for theft he said. He somehow then went into how he'd been unfairly portrayed in an article in the Vancouver Sun as the "Ugly Canadian" accused of under-aged sex tourism while living in Cambodia... He said what really happened was that he was framed by corrupt cops and a family wanting to extort money. How now here in Nha Trang, a rival dive school had dug up that article and were now going around town smearing his name. I could hardly believe the guy was talking so non chalant about this. Not knowing whether to be revulsed or have pitty, I felt as if me and the other fella had become a couple of surrogate shrinks at an impromptu therapy session. A moment later he was talking about his facebook community called "Boom Boom Divers" and I wondered if there weren't any truth to the charge. It was late afternoon when I got back to the guest house. I swung open the door to our air conditionned third floor room, and found DJ lying in bed under the weather again. He figured he'd got sun stroke from too much heat exposure. I went out and picked him up some food, water, and aspirin, and headed out to explore the town on my own.

The next day I visited some ancient Cham towers, made of beigy orange bricks, with some rudimentary ornamentation. They looked kind of like giant beehives with prayer chambers inside. Perched on a hill they offered a pleasant sunset view of the city and harbour. Arriving back at the guest house I contemplated what to do with the week I had remaining, I'd been having second thoughts about not visiting Thailand, so on a spurr, I opted to splurge on a flight to Bangkok. I'd spend two nights there, and another four down in Phucket before flying on to Hong Kong to catch my flight back to Toronto. Happy with my choice I went to book online, I had just enough time to do it! I found the flight I wanted but the payment would not go through, strange. I tried again, same problem. Darn, I called my bank regarding the visa and found out their system was down. Darn it. An hour or so later I tried again, but the flight I had wanted was no longer available online. Dissapointed I resigned myself to make the best out of the time I had left in Vietnam.

The following morning I was really itching to move on. Walking down the street from the tour and bus office, I was solicited for a tour by a small older Vietnamese guy strapped out in leathers on a motorbike. Tony he said his name was, and that he was the "original easy rider" motorcycle tour guide. He offered a tour through the central highlands. An hour later I called Tony back and was preparing to go. On my way back to the guest house I bought a $3 copy of "The Quiet American", the classic set during the last days of the French colonial era in Indochina and the start of American strategic involvement. Back in the room Darren still ill, had said he was going to rest up another day, then head to Bangkok. Expecting to say our goodbyes when I told him of my plan, Darren instead raised himself stifly out of bed as if from the dead, and said t"hat sounds like a cool adventure". Twenty minutes later we were on the road behind our new steel steades and riders.

Episode VII: Vietnam Part 2

So Darren somewhow summoned the energy to get on the back of a motorbike after being knocked out the past couple days with sun stroke. With me behind Tony, and Darren behind Tony's "Easy Rider" colleague Shan, we were motoring along the main coastal road out of Nha Trang. It was a glorious sunny day as we passed the bridge along the main harbour with a view of the city to our left, and the islands out in the glittering sea to our right. Before long we were out of the city and passing coves with fishing boats, and the wooden posts of shrimp farms in neat patterns decorating the near-shore waters like stitching on a quilt. We took our first break in a wooden restaurant perched on a cliff along the dipping and curving coastal highway overlooking the scene. These 20 min breaks taking delicious vietnamese ice coffee were to be the norm for the next few days during our motorcycle tour. Here we learned that Tony was divorced but saw his children regularly in Nha Trang, and that he had an ongoing relationship with a woman from Montreal. Our next stop was to fix a loose water tank on Tony's bike in a dusty town somewhere along the flat coastal plain. Taking longer to dissassemble and put back than expected we decided to have lunch and we're served delicious fresh make'em yourself vietnamese spring rolls. I was taken a back as what seemed to me as Darren pawing his way through every piece of rice paper in order to pick out the transparent one. DJ was just as taken a back at me for commenting on it, and the air thickenned with tension. I felt I'd been careful not to touch much other than I would actually eat, even though this was finger food. Seeing no point in arguing further, I conceded to the Doc that perhaps I'd been just a tad prudish, and the situation was diffused.

We were off again, past wet rice and lotus floor fields, and before long beginning our climb into the highlands. What a way to travel as if flying on a magic steed the wind in your face and feeling truly alive. The cultivated fields morphed into slopes of dark green jungle vegetation, cloudy white mist floated through adding contrast to the green land and blue skies. Near the top of the escarpment I noticed the messy dense jungle underbrush had gave way to neat rows of younger trees, obviously planted methodically by man. Tony confirmed my speculation that this was an area that had been devastated by agent orange, hundreds of tonnes which were sprayed by the Americans to prevent cover to the viet cong during the war. We continued on for several more hours past fields, and villages, greeting many a friendly child or stranger as we went. That night we stayed at a lakeside resort in a place called Lac Lake, near a minority Montagnard village. The rooms were large but rudimentary. While settling in I saw a little bee, and perhaps due to the book on buddhism I'd been reading, let it be. After my shower I walked in the space between the two beds and felt a stinging pain on my foot. I did not let the bee continue to be. During and after dinner I continued to read my book, pausing briefly for the stroll from the dining hall to our room and to pull the mosquito netting over my bed.

The following day we took a very touristy elephant ride through the touristy village and across the lake. Not expecting much, it was pretty much as I expected. i was disturbed however by the way the driver prompted the elephant into line when it stalled or veered off track. He had a heavy wooden pole with a head of steel curved into a hook that he used to strike the elephant. One blow with that would have knocked me out and I cringed each time he wielded it. I was thankful that the slow torturous ride under the oppressive late morning sun was over. We visited a rubber pantation, then a pepper one (yes, I found out our brown pepper grows green on trees), finally settling for the night in a town called Kon Tum. It seemed to be a typical market town without anything to special going on. DJ who'd gone out to make a phone call said he'd seen two westerners with dreadlocks and piercings bending over and smiling down saying hello to some local children. "What an impression of white people" this comment was part of a larger context of our ongoing discussions about the decline of western civilization and rise of chinese-led asia. We wandered aimlessly down the main road and side streets, stopping to buy jackfruit chips at a local supermarket not unlike one you'd find anywhere else. I read another chapter of "A Quiet American", and hit the sack.

The following day as we wound through the outskirts of Kon Tum we took a couple shots of a Montagnard traditional tall house. Essentially an oversized wood hut on poles but topped with a steeply sloping straw roof about three stories high. Wondering about the practicality of such a structure, Tony informed us that the montagnard minority people built houses this way in order to scare off wild tigers in times past. Another ten minutes down the road and we came to a large beautiful wooden Church. Its dark tropical wood frame was adorned by gold leafing and contrasted sharply but pleasantly with its blue stucco sides. We spent a few minutes taking snapshots of all angles, and then expecting to leave, Shan said "come this way". Walking to the back of the Church there were several school or dorm-like structures, and DJ was talking to a gentle looking older vietnamese man. It was an orphanage. Shan told me to come in to one of the buildings and led me to the second floor. We stepped out onto a walled-in patio full of toddlers, there was about ten of them aged from 8 months to at most 5 years, most being barely 2. Several of these little creatures came over to me excited an adult was there to visit. Then one little girl in a pink jumper hugged my leg. She lifted up her oversized toddler head and looked at me with giant dark eyes and the prettiest little white face. Another slightly chubby little boy about the same age in a blue jumper came over to do the same. It hit me that these children, babies really, were purely innocent and looking for human affection. Nothing to do with children exploited by their parents to solicit donations from tourists found in many developing world cities. A humble nun looked on from the background. About three of them, including the little girl, walked over and pulled themselves up between the rails of the railing, looking out from the balcony unto the world. What did it have in store for them I wondered? I picked up the little girl again who was as smiley and affectionate as ever, looking away then breaking out into laughter when I looked at her with a smile of my own. I was powerfully touched, and think of her to this day. Had I been more stable in my life, or with a partner to help out, I resally believe I would have attempted to adopt her. We made our way for several more hours through the highlands and across some scenic river valleys, here and there taking a break for pictures and to learn about a battle in the war or some other story from that place.

It was nearly dark as we made our last 40kms towards Hoi An the end of the motorbike tour. A couple timesTony offered to take us to a hotel he knew , but Darren was set on one he'd stayed at a couple years prior. We stopped to the right of a narrow bridge and DJ indicated this was our stop, a two story white guest house hotel. He also asked me for 600k more dong, which I handed out to him as part of my ongoing payback for the grand he'd lent me. DJ still owed only 60k dong for his tour so I was not sure why he asked for 600k. As I was checking-in he came back to me and asked "how much did you hand to me", and I told him. Then began the drama of DJ asking for change back, and Shan insisting he'd only got 60k from him, the difference of about $35 to $3.50. Tony backed his man, but DJ finally managed to get some of his funds back. The whole episode however left him quite sour. It was a shame to end off a three day journey like that. In the meanwhile Eva, the cute girl at the reception pitying what had befallen us invited me for soup at her family's place. It turned out her name wasn't really Eva, but she had said it was when I'd given her my name. She also said she'd soon be moving to Winnipeg and I was quite happy to take her up on the invite. After changing I spent a few minutes consoling the doc who was sitting on the patio behind the hotel which overlooked the river. He was truly saddenned and angered that someone he spent 3 days on a bike and bonded with would want to rip him off. I then went to meet Eva at the front desk. She explained that she was working and therefore could not join us, but that Darren and I would be going for soup at her sisters place. She added we would get together the next day when she was free. Darren and I thought that was strange, but headed over to her relatives' just down the road. It turned out that her sister's house was a cloth and suite making shop and we were given bottled water as they began to show us their wares. Darren and I looked at each other in annoyed bewilderment and asked each other "are they trying to sell us a suit?" We quickly left, deeply dissapointed in Eva and speculating on all types of scenarios. DJ was the first to enquire what was going on, and then I had a talk with her. My anger dissipated as I saw her tears. She claimed that she was shocked and upset with her cousin (previously her sister). I couldn't however completely bring myself to believe her.

The next day another young lady who Darren knew from the last time he visited was working at the hotel. Soon after the "I remember you pleasantries" he got the real scoop on Eva. It turns out the people at the shop weren't even related to eva, but gave her commission for each sale she sent their way. The Doc was steaming, but we determined to wait until the next day when he was set to leave, before tearing into her. That day we visited My Son, the most important Cham ruin site in the country. Most of the structures were partly demolished, this not because of centuries wear, but rather due to American bombs intended for vietcong who used the temple area as a hideout during the war. It was still an impressive site though and well worth the the visit. That evening we took it easy and arranged for flights, mine back to Saigon on Monday, and Darren's to Bangkok for business the day after. The next morning at breakfast it was finally time to part ways for good and was a rather hurried affair. We were trying to go over our accounts but Darren had to get in his taxi for the airport, so we cut it short. He pretty much just got up, went over to Eva and told her scoldingly " You are a liar, and we don't want people like you in Canada'" Having taken care of busines, he was then off on his way. I couldn't have executed it so coldly, but did respect his ability to give her the straight talk. Shortly after the van arrived to take me on my scuba tour, and on my way out I advised that I would be changing hotels that evening.

The Scuba was great, and after the dive we boated over to a paradisical island similar to that from the movie "the Beach" which was filmed nearby. The serenity appeared to be spoiled when a Tom Vu type character started singing Karaoke with a horrible Vietnamese accent. But quickly the scuba operator, backed with the economic weight of our group ,managed to put a stop to it. Jonathan, a fiendly accountant and good guy from London Ontario bought me a beer. He was on a 5 week Intrepid Tours group tour throughout the region. On the boat ride back I chatted with Wendy, an attractive fortyish californian who lived in London UK. Wendy an international matchmaker was doing a world tour, which I gathered was somehow partly sponsored by her work, partly by her travel agent friend, and partly by her millionaire husband. Wendy'd told us that the Miss Vietnam pageant candidates were staying at her hotel, so later that evening, Jonathan, his intrepid tour mates, and I went there to meet her for a drink. The Nam Hai was truly a 7 star resort, if ever one existed and under the moonlight we exlored its immaculate grounds. It was a granite and marble palace with a modern design, flavoured with hints of ancient vietnamese heritage. It featured a cascade of 3 fifty meter long palm-lined infinity pools and had white couch lined indoor-outdoor lounges located interspersingly on the site. We didn't find Wendy, but after marvelling at the place we grabbed a round of drinks at the bar to soak in the atmosphere. 5 meters across the room an attractive well heeled couple. Attractive and wealthy, appearances would suggest they had it all. Except they just sat there blankly sitting in silence with an aura of unhappiness about them. 20 minutes had passed, when the gentlemen got up and without emotion said "I'll see you in the morning to the woman". Steve a tall young american lawyer from our group, then swooped in for the kill. For about 10 minutes he stood over her making conversation, then finally took a seat. Losing interest in the voyeurism, the rest of us left him in good company and went on our way.

I arrived back at the old 19th century guest house where I was staying at about 3am. It was a quaint ornate wooden structure that had been home to a well to do Chinese trader family. Beside the dark hard wood desk, was an ornate ancestor shrine. The shelves of the small reception were lined with antiques and carvings. I walked past the small open courtyard and well to the stairs at the back of the place, and creaked up them to my room. I opened the wooden shutters that led to the tiny wooden balcony overlooking the place and was transported back in time to another era. I finished the night reading another chapter of the Quiet American to the gentle hum of my room fan.

The following morning harkenned my last full day in Vietnam. I joined a friendly Chinese traveller named Kolumbus for breakfast. At least that was his English name (most chinese who interact with foreigners seem to adopt one). Kolumbus asked me to take a quick video of him by the river. Expecting him to just smile or say a few words of where he was at, he instead broke out into a silly jig like dance. Turns out Kolumbus had done this at every main place he'd stopped on his travels. I reflected that a lot of what the Chinese do for kicks seems simplistic and silly to our westernern eyes. But then again that could be how the youthful exhuberance of a society in its spring is perceived from the sophisticated rot of our late autumn civilization. After breakfast I strolled through the narrow river-side streets of old Hoi An, past its yellow stucco buildings of shops, restaurants, homes and guest houses, each adorned by a chinese lantern. Arriving back at my guesthouse, the friendly young lady from the family who owned and ran it, set me up with a rental motor scooter. I first hit the Nam Hai, just as spectacular by day, and joined wendy for an ice lemon on the terrace. Returning from a walk down the silk sand beach, we noticed that some of the Miss' had come out for photo ops and lounging. On my way out I had my photo taken with a tall, slender beauty, immaculate in a traditional red and white sun dress. She went so well with the ambience of the place, the finest Vietnam had to offer and on par with the global high society no doubt.

I gathered my scooter from the guest parking and left the resort's long driveway for the coastal highway. Mid afternoon by this time, a woman on a scooter noticed I'd stopped to check my map and offered to show me the way to China beach. She took me off the main road to a place called Marble Mountain, a large outcrop with a beautiful pagoda and palace above a small tourist village with lots of marble shops. She had me park in her shop, obviously her kindness had a parrallel commercial purpose. It looked like a pleasant site to tour, but I wanted to make it to China Beach first, and would hit this place on the way back if I still had time, so I continued on. I felt so free zooming down the straight highway that it ocurred to me to fully open up the scooter. Going sixty, my goal became to hit eighty klicks. Achieving that, I realized she still had more to go. I kept squeezing on the throttle, eighty five, the needle rose slower but kept rising, ninety.. ninety five, the scooter was shaking. My adrenaline was up and heart was beating fast as I realized that I was toast if I hit even the slightest debris as I pushed this little machine to its absolute limit. One hundred! As soon as the needle hit three digits, I relaxed the throttle and slowed back to a reazonable pace. I scolded myself for beeing so foolhardy but soon was on to other thoughts. The next part of the strip was quickly being developed by major hotel resorts, Marriott, Sofitel, Radisson, as Vietnam's reputation as a global travel hot spot and rapidly grew.

In the distance straight ahead I could see bluffs and a peninsula, to the left there was a city surrounded by a lush green plane, to the right was the endless beach strip and the South China Sea. I'll say it again, the Vietnamese coastline is stunning, and it was obvious why the beach strip south of Danang was chosen by the G.I.s for r & r during the war. Aside from it being safely a couple hundred km south of the DMZ (demilitarised zone separating North and South Vietnam), it was simply a beautiful place. I passed the Danang strip with its rustic seafood restaurants, motels, and shops. To the right people were strolling along the beach, and a number of beach soccer and volleyball games were being played at periodic intervals. A little further on the strip finished with a cove sheltered by the mountainous peninsula jutting out, and a small fleet of blue fishing boats lay at anchor in its calmer waters. I was thoroughly revelling in this my last day. Curious to see what vista and sites I might find past the peninsula north of the cove, I explored on.

As I went up and around the curved coastline I passed a peaceful empty beach and endeavoured to find my way down. another 40 yards on I turned into a small seaside resort. I flipped the scooter lot guard a couple coins and headed to the water. Past a swimming pool I arrived on a beach with a few families taking in the day, some already packing up, perhaps a bit early due to clouds gathering over the sea. A smiling lady called me over to her barbecue. I was starved as I hadn't had lunch, and thinking she was a vendor, I headed over to see what was cooking. With very limited English she offered me food, and I clued in that this was actually a family barbecue I had been invited to join. I learned she had a son and daughter a little younger than I, and was married to one of the most important doctors in Danang. She said I reminded her of her son, but I wondered if it might not have been a U.S. marine she'd met back in the day. In any case, these were genuinely kind and welcoming people, and the grilled sea bass, springrolls, and soup were delicious. What a blessing to experience such human hospitality and kindness on this my last day. After a few pictures and laughs I thanked them graciously and headed back up to the scooter lot. As I pulled out back onto the highway I took a couple more pics of a friendly group of uniformed high schoolers delighted at exchanging a few words in English with a foreigner. Now on my way back I cruised up to a look out point back on the peninsula before Danang. The sea was by now choppy, and blue had turned to grey as the ominous clouds rolled over. Within minutes of setting off again, it began to rain, then poor. I was getting soaked even through the parka I was wearing, so decided to pull over at a shelter. I waited a half hour reading "Buddhism Explained", and although the rain hadn't stopped decided to push on. It was no longer pouring, but still a steady shower. Patches of a blue late afternoon sky were appearing along the horizon. The rain did eventually subside and it nearly dark when I arrived back at the guest house in Hoi An. That night I dined alongside a kind older New Zealand couple, and took in a nice traditional Vietnamese theatre play.

The next morning I was off to the Danang airport to catch the hour and a half flight back down to Saigon. I had barely made it half way up Vietnam. The beautiful north would have to wait for another day. At Saigon International I texted Huyen to say I wouldn't have time to see her again, but we could write. My flight arrived in Macao and I easily made the transfer over to the HongKong ferry. Returning to Hong Kong which had been so exotic when I arrived, felt comfortably familiar. I spent an enjoyable last night exploring the streets of Kowloon and feasting on a delicous curried duck. The sunny next morning I took a harbour photo opp, before catching the airport express and finally my flight back to Toronto. So looking back; what did I learn on this seven week oddyssey? How did it enrich me? Obviously I saw some amazing places. I developped a greater understanding and appreciation of Asian culture applicable back here at home in Canada's own culturally diverse society. I observed cultural traits which can be valued differently depending on the eye of the beholder. It was reinforced to me that people are fundamentally the same, but view life and the world from their respective cultural lenses. It sunk in that it would be nice to experience such places and the world with a special someone (of the female kind, not to knock the Doc!). I'd felt a strong paternal instinct at the orphanage. Finally, ironically while wandering free, I realized that I'd like more stability in my life; the next chapter of which it was now time to build.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey.

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Photos

DJ the intrepid traveller
Mapping out our journey

With some new friends
Out at a Kowloon nightspot

The boat trip from Huay Xai
Kiwi mates