Hanoi hangover

As often happens in Sapa, the mist descended and the clouds shed their load. After two days of writing and correspondence on the Internet I was getting cabin fever, but a noon check out and night train meant I was forced out for some fresh air. The Black Hmong must have got used to me, I’ve not been subjected to their charming characters for days, in fact since my first day there. Despite virtually camping outside my hotel their attention was for the wealthier clientele further up the hill. I was always met with cheery welcomes and, I like to think, genuine regard for my health and happiness. I must say I like them, I’ve yet to meet any who have sold their souls for the tourist dollar. Happy and smiling after hours of walking they take the time to talk to you, it isn’t too hard a sell and they rarely seem fed up despite the fierce competition between them. (Photo: Black Hmong and police intervention – Sapa, North Vietnam)

With the rain easing off there was no excuse left, if I hadn’t got my arse in gear I’d have seen none of the surrounding villages. Heavy mist obscured my view across the conical shaped hills littering the landscape, but thinned out as I descended to the tribal village. Cat Cat, nestled on the slopes of a lovely hillside, surrounded by paddy with water buffalo grazing the remnants from harvesting. Terraces climb the steep slopes, many are no more than 0.5m wide, their curving earthworks shaped perfectly to fit the natural contours. Giant steps leading heavenward, before harvest strips of verdant green crown each and every step of the way, punctuated by rich brown abutments. It is still a local village, though lined with stalls selling whatever they deemed might appeal to tourists. The embroidered goods are locally made, you can see the women sewing as they walk along the road without once breaking pace. (Photo: Paddy platform and conical hills – Cat Cat, North Vietnam)

A very clever system of using water to pound grain is still in place, though had no signs of recent usage. Bamboo guttering feeds water into large hollowed out wooden scoops on the end of quite hefty wooden beams. The fulcrum is very close to the scooped end, at the other a pestle is fitted, which sits in a wood lined pit. Once the water fills the scoop it drops down disgorging its weighty load, lifting the pestle from its resting place. As the water empties the weight of the beam drops the pestle back into the pit and, if it were filled, would pound the grain into flour. It’s a brilliant labour saving device, one I’ve never come across before. Of course it depends on a steady flow of water. Not only that though, to make it efficient a whole series of them are necessary, so hilly terrain is also vital to get enough working at the same time. Unfortunately, though there are many still happily tipping and filling in a leisurely rhythm, they all show signs of neglect. Looking into the pits not a single one had any residue of grain or flour in it. (Photo: Water powered pestle – Cat Cat, North Vietnam)

Behind the commercial frontage the village life goes on pretty much how it has for eons, but the women spend an overwhelming amount of their time catering to the peripheries of the tourist trade. They aren’t involved in the more profitable end of the business, transport and accommodation, merely the provision of craftworks, of which some of the work is beautiful. For once I found myself feeling guilty for not buying from these women, but it isn’t what I do when travelling. I have neither the room nor the motivation to encumber myself with examples of local craftwork, there’s too many places, too many different examples. I question myself whether or not to buy something, but it’s only to assuage my guilt. Instead I put money into the local economy by eating locally as often as the café orientated towards the western visitors. (Photo: Pork scratchings – Cat Cat, North Vietnam)

Although I’ve only been in Hanoi for one day Sapa seems so far away. It’s always a bit strange catching nighttime transport, you drift off to sleep in one environment and awake to a totally different one. Coming from the tranquil setting of Sapa (don’t get me wrong here, it’s a bustling tourist venue) spilling onto the city streets of Hanoi at 5am is a whole new world. Though expecting throngs on crafty city dwellers hustling for my attention, I found my arrival easy to adapt to. One or two taxi drivers were very persistent, but giving a firm no soon got rid of them, once they realize you are not about to be swayed they’ll move on to an easier target. Once everything settled down, during which time I sat and had a coffee, I chose my own taxi and ensured he was using the meter correctly. By 6.30am I sat beside the Lake of the recovered Sword watching the local populace indulge in their morning limbering up and exercise routines. It was very reminiscent of China. (Photo: More paddy formations– Cat Cat, North Vietnam)

A busy day marked my initiation to Hanoi, a city I found quite likable. It is busy, the traffic is mayhem and people are constantly stopping you and using any pretext to sell their wares or services. I ask you, where else do shoe shine boys try and insist on polishing your canvas sandals? I covered all the Old quarter and Hoan Kiem areas searching hostel notice boards for adverts of bikes for sale. There wasn’t many, and it took up my whole day going to every single one I could find. Of the bike dealers, everything was overpriced and of dubious quality. They generally buy cheaply off tourists and sell to the next one who walks in, with a markup of a couple of hundred percent. The bikes are constantly driven 1,000 miles or more between Saigon and Hanoi, rarely receiving any attention other than to refuel. I guess the adverts of tourists selling their bikes as they depart from Vietnam reflect this too, they have the impression the price they paid the dealer is a realistic one. I was lucky to only pay $320 for a reasonable example of a 100cc Honda Win, which is actually a Taiwanese engine built under a Honda license. Only time will tell if it was a good buy. (Photo: Coolie, but maybe not cool – Hanoi, Vietnam)

After a day of settling in it was a great relief to go out on the town, 17 Cowboys was a worthwhile venue. A Wildwest bar with a difference, the live band played an eclectic mix of classic rock and the cute waitress' sported the shortest and tightest of mini skirts. Surely a bar with plenty of oriental promise.

Biking and Bac Ha

My last night in Laos was seemingly pleasant, having spent the night eating and drinking with the locals. As they were playing Patenque for beer money I thought I’d rather watch than end up paying for everyone’s drinks. One of the guys was a guesthouse owner I’d met down river, it was a nice to socialize with him away from the confines of his business. It was still an early night though, facing a 5am start I wasn’t about to stay up until the late hours, besides the Laoitians are not exactly late night revellers. It was only the following morning that I discovered a heap of money missing from where I kept it stashed amongst my luggage. Daft maybe, but you have to keep it somewhere, personally I don’t like to keep the bulk of my money on my person. £125 is a lot to lose by petty theft, and I’m sure it was stolen by the owners or staff of the hotel. So, If ever stopping over in Muang Khoa, be very careful about staying in Keophila 2 Guesthouse. (Photo: Banana plantation – Nr Loah Cai, Northern Vietnam)

A few of us caught the bus into Vietnam, all continuing onto to Sapa from the border town of Dien Bien Piu. Our night there was a laugh, with an Ozzie couple a local bar was the first stop. And weren’t we the centre of attraction, my dreads seem to grab people’s attention. At least it isn’t always in a negative way, but I’m still surprised at people’s reaction; it’s only a bloody hairstyle. First of all it was only the female bar owner who was curious, and then she called her friends over. Three of them twiddled and played with my hair, marveling as I showed them how to dread it. I’m sure one wanted to chop them off, luckily she wasn’t too serious and seemed satisfied to gather it together and secure it with a hair band. Laughing at the photos taken of us, as she played with my hair, her friends wanted in on the act. So I ended with a young woman squidging into my lap and wrapping her arms around me for a photo. Now that had nothing to do with my hair, and when the inevitable proposition came I laughed and said no thanks. Establishing that I was single was actually the funniest part, I knew what they were getting at so kept trying to say Jane was with me, not with Dave. He misinterpreted what she was saying and was pointed at himself and me, thinking she was asking who smoked. Of course the situation did get cleared up, which is when it was suggested I might be interested in the young woman. (Photo: Roadside pose – Pho Lu, Northern Vietnam)

Sapa was destined to be my first port of call, on recommendation of too many people to ignore. Two long days on buses were necessary to get there, so by the time I arrived all I wanted was to find a guesthouse and relax. That was before encountering the charming but persistent Mhong women. Walking into town with a pack on is a dead give away, fresh blood, the ideal opportunity to ingratiate themselves upon you. From a punter’s viewpoint it’s a gauntlet that has to be run, and running is the best way to deal with it. As you apologise and attempt to walk away they follow you, all round town if they think they might find a chink in your armour. And they’re by no means the only touts for business, it seems everyone wants to get their claws into your pockets. Whether for hotels, motorbike hire, food or bars the touts are out. And as I said a rucksack makes you a prime target. (Photo: Mhong women at the cattle market – Bac Ha, Northern Vietnam)

But I felt sorry for the Mhong, they walk miles into to town and back most days, purely to try and sell a few souvenirs to tourists. The sheer numbers of them, and their selling technique of completely engulfing tourists in a tide of eager women, can’t make for high sales volume. Some of their embroidered bags and jewellery are exquisite, but as soon as you consider having a closer look other women will pour forward, “you buy from me, you buy from me”. I’m pleased to say walking round town since my initial arrival hasn’t attracted the large groups of them. But they wait on the hill opposite my hotel, for the rich tourists to come by. All the hotels further up hill from me are the big plush one’s, but the police won’t allow the ethnic groups within a few hundred yards of them. Hence the women wait in ambush further down the hill, as many as thirty of them. If they creep further uphill the police hustle them away, prodding them with their batons until the willingly descend. (Photo: Various Mhong tribes women– Bac Ha, Northern Vietnam)

All the villages of this area are of one Mhong tribe or another, it’s the black Mhong nearest to Sapa. By hiring a bike I took an overnight trip to the market town of Bac Ha, where they have infinitely more colourfully dressed tribes women. It’s strange though, most towns women wear normal western dress, whereas without fail the outlaying villagers are adorned in traditional clothes. Even the guys coming in form the villages tend to dress traditionally, which is are to see amongst many indigenous people around the world. It’s often the men who stay at home with the kids while the women come to town to ply their wares. Apart from being inundated with sheer numbers they are friendly and pleasant, at least they befriend you rather than simply hassle. They’re well versed in enough English to make your acquaintance and extract promises of buying only form them. (Photo: Grazing the paddy – Pho Lu, Northern Vietnam)

The bike ride was great fun, especially after having the drive chain adjusted. With the exception of 30km along the river, it was all steep gradients and tight twisting turns. Due to mist laying heavy in the hills the views weren’t stunning, but it couldn’t detract from the pleasure of riding through tropic environs. On the way back I took a longer route, staying off the main road. Huge numbers of tourist buses had descended on Bac Ha as I was leaving, so finding small villages that didn’t suffer such intrusions was my ideal for the day. And I found just what I wanted. Anytime I stopped people would appear to see the foreigner, surprised at the sight of me. Hardly any spoke English, so communication was by hand, but I didn’t linger too long. A few words of greeting, a minute for them to admire the bike I was riding and off I’d go again. They ride mainly step-through scooters of minimal size, seeing a 150cc bike, with gears and a clutch raised many an admiring comment. (Photo: Buffalo buy – Nr Pho Lu, Northern Vietnam)

Luang bang bang!

Cor blimey, hoards of westerners and a vast array of accented English was the biggest impression I got from Luang Prabang. I haven’t seen so many tourists in one place for eons, certainly not on this journey. And of course where the hoards descend the locals flock to take advantage, except Laos isn’t really like that. Without doubt there were plenty of locals offering their services for transport, none were overly pushy though, all accepted a polite no thank you. Touts for guesthouses were very thin on the ground. Even the nightly craft market was a leisurely affair, no hassle off hawkers and no overbearing demands to buy anything. It isn’t exactly a large city, it is very laid back though. Tourists are only really en masse in two streets, the riverside road and the one on which the nightly market is held. Despite the presence of so many, even I could tolerate the tourists. (Photo: Farming newly exposed area of riverbank – Ou Nam, Nr Luang Prabang, Laos)

The night food market was slightly different, it isn’t exclusively tourists there, but few Laoitians sit and eat, they tend to do it take away style. The basis of most stalls is simple, load your plate as full as you can, for about 1€. A table of platters stand before you, typically a choice of 15-20, all vegetarian. If you want meat pick what you want barbequed and that’s another 1€. There’s little need for the meat, but for carnivores it makes for complete satisfaction. Of course the knack is to pile your plate as high as possible, get as much for your money as you can. And of course that’s precisely what I did the first night there, the second I held back a touch more, it was too much for me and I hate wasting food. It gets a bit cramped and the various stalls do a brisk trade and want a quick turnover, hence they’re keen for you to eat up and sod off. So there is little chance to relax over a long cool beer, but they cater well for tourists, there’s always the crafts market and plenty of bars. (Photo: Bamboo raft – Ou Nam, Nr Muang Gnoi, Laos)

I seem to be hitting a good number of festivals on this trip, it was the local Buddhist celebration, which I’m embarrassed to say I never remembered precisely what it was about. I does last a few days though, and culminates in a firework free for all, which was brilliant fun. But first of all is the boat racing, dragon boats that is. None of your namby-pamby western rowing, this is Hawaii five-o style without the outriggers. The crowds were out in force, and for once the locals outnumbered the tourists. The town itself was nigh on deserted, but along that stretch of the Mekong it was chaotic. I must admit though, few seemed to take too much notice of the races themselves, the picnics were out the beer was flowing and life gave way to carnival. Throughout the three days boats could be seen slowly being built, some more than 5m long, all destined to be lit up and floated down the river for the grand finale on the last night. (Photo: Water buffalo– Ou Nam, Nr Muang Khoa, Laos)

Health and safety be damned, it was utter mayhem and everyone had immense fun, well at least the locals and my small group did. Number one priority, forget all about any firework code. Number two, buy plenty of fireworks because they last no time what so ever. Bear in mind that most are small with a very short burn time, they’re also dirt cheap, 30p buys ten mini bangers, or bees. They were being lit and thrown everywhere, into the road, at peoples feet, into the path of cars, literally anywhere. And no, it wasn’t just irresponsible adults it was mainly kids, to the delight of adults close by. I must admit to holding one too long, the explosion tingled a bit but wasn’t enough to hurt or damage. Whilst it did seem utter pandemonium there was some semblance of supervision for the very young, the adults would light the fireworks for them and allow them to sling them into the road. (Photo: Riverside village – Ou Nam, Nr Muang Khoa, Laos)

Many tourists looked less than impressed, but the locals lapped it up. One actually explained that they did keep an eye on their children, they did ensure they weren’t too over the top. The river itself was aglow with thousands of illuminated boats, candles flickering from within crepe paper creations. Garlands of palm fronds and candles floated down, gathering in clumps along the riverbank. How none of the moored boats caught fire was beyond me. In the sky a continuous stream of Chinese lanterns continued to be released for hours, it was an amazing spectacle. Both garlands and lanterns are released for good luck, to make you wishes come true. I didn’t worry about wishes that can never be, simply cackled with laughter as we threw more fireworks, sharing them around between the kids surrounding us. (Photo: Ferry crossing – Ou Nam, Muang Khoa, Laos)

That last night was a great release for me, I’d spent days at my computer chasing publishers and planning the next stage of the trip. I wanted to cross into Myanmar overland, but it’s no longer possible. By land it’s only possible to travel close to the border, the surrounding area is closed to foreigners. It looks like I’ll have to wait until I leave Asia, then I can fly in on my way home. So next will have to be Vietnam, which I should cross into tomorrow. I’ve a month visa and intend to travel north to south. In many ways I’ll miss Lao, but I will be back, of that I’ve no doubt. I’ll miss the monks banging their huge drums, cymbals ringing in the background. Some of their music and chanting is enchanting, sure makes you want to move your feet. It was also a delight to see them letting off their own fireworks within the temple complexes. They’re a bit more devout here than seemed in Tibet, so it was nice to see them let their hair down; well they would have done if they weren’t bald. (Photo: Local temple – Muang Khoa, Laos)

Tales from the river bank.

Setting off upriver was easy and relaxed, it stayed that way for the weeks I spent there too. Accommodation was cheap at about £2.50 a night, there was indeed no internet and electric only ran for three hours each night, plenty of time to charge up the laptop and allow up to six hours of work each day. I make it sound well disciplined but it wasn’t, I spent much more time relaxing than writing. As I devoured book after book it became obvious how deprived of reading material I’d been. What really tipped the scales was a little coffee house/bookshop, so that got plenty of visits from me. My guesthouse was the furthest end of the village, quiet except for the various poultry and a mystery night visitor to the Laos woman next door. Luckily their coupling was neither prolonged nor noisy, I didn’t lose enough sleep to bother moving. (Photo: Along the River Ou - Muang Gnoi, North Laos)

Muang Gnoi itself is the main village on that stretch of the river, there’s little above a cluster of huts within miles of it. Accessible only by boat you’d have thought the noise of traffic wouldn’t be as bother. As there are few boats without engines that isn’t the case, though it’s a far cry from city traffic. It isn’t a developed tourist destination, but there are a couple of hundred bungalows/huts scattered around the village. A couple of establishments have comfy bungalows, in well maintained enclaves, most are only a few huts overlooking the river. Menus are reasonable, having a mixture of westernized Laos food and random items of curry or sweet and sour. The only problem is the lack in choice, almost all the cafes had the same menu, the Indian restaurant was the exception. There was another in Nong Kiew, why would Indian nationals come to Northern Laos to set up a business? Neither seemed as quiet as many of the Laos restaurants though, but I don’t think they’re going to manage early retirement either. (Photo: Fresh cave water - Muang Gnoi, North Laos)

There were kids everywhere, from barely toddling all the way up, rarely with any adult supervision. Siblings took care of each other, not always with good grace. Which makes it sound worse than it actually was, I saw no fractious behaviour from any of them. But the look of determination of one lads face as he cycled like fury to escape the clutches of his wobbly sister. She only wanted to play with her big brother, but for a lad who’s struggling to master his bike without the stabilisers a taste of freedom from her wails was more attractive. The kids we passed in the boat upriver were hilarious. Playing slides down the sandy embankment they stopped to greet us, running to the highest point and waggling their bare arses at us while jiggling up and down. That was the boys anyway, though in all honesty I wasn’t trying to discern their sex. I don’t recall any with long hair, maybe the girls don’t get to play naked in the river. The river’s quite fast flowing, but the kids aren’t shy of it at all. I was assured that all the villagers, both young and old can swim. (Photo: In a paddy over the karsts - Nr Banna, North Laos)

Laos and its people have impressed me, they aren’t necessarily forthcoming but are generally happy enough to acknowledge you and wish you a good day. In the village you could easily go the length of the dirt road without having to wish all and sundry best wishes. But it was common to hear a sweet young voice calling, “Sabai dee,” accompanied with a slight wave and shy smile. No-one gets impatient except the occasional mother with a demonstrative child, and there doesn’t seem much of problem with alcohol fuelled fury. Guys may often have a drink during the day, but I never saw any blind drunk, none sprawled comatose across the street. There isn’t much to do in the area, few ways to make a buck or two. Low level farming, subsidized by fishing, is the traditional way. Tourism brings in the big money. (Photo: Delivery men arriving - Banna village, North Laos)

Like many isolated areas of the world the young want to experience the bright lights, the big city. So there’s a lot of migration to Luang Prabang and Vietiene, if they’re going to college there is no choice but to live in the city. It hasn’t caused a marked reduction in village populations, so many of them come back to their quiet little village and enjoy a more relaxed lifestyle. At the rate of reproduction I’m surprised if the figures aren’t steadily climbing. In a village where the lights go on at 6.30pm and back off at 10pm people have to find someway to entertain themselves in the dark hours. The old enjoy the protection of the extended family, the security of a home and food. It looks like most families share one large, open living space. Almost everything is built from timber and natural materials, the guesthouses generally have a more rustic look that the unimaginative blocks with tin roofs that the locals favour. (Photo: Lowering level on the River Ou - Muang Gnoi, North Laos)

Hiking in the close vicinity to the main village gave a few breaks from reading and writing, a few caves and vantage points made it worth the effort. Banna was a village a couple of hours walk away, in the middle of the paddy fields. And it was in a just such a place where an old lady carefully unwrapped a cloth bundle to reveal some sticks of opium. Smiling sweetly, she slightly raised her eyebrows, a polite and unassuming gesture, simply inviting interest. With detached amusement I gave my head the barest of shakes, placed my hands together and just as politely gave her a firm no. Then she went back to playing with her baby grandchild, oh the simplicity of village life eh? The day before a couple had gone out there and left some exercise books for the kids, I swear the torn pages used by the old guy for smoking the local tobacco were exercise paper. So whatever way you look at it, those exercise books are appreciated out in the sticks. (Photo: Cave cricket - Pha noi cave, Nr Muang Gnoi, North Laos)

The local caves are interesting, the first two I saw were the least interesting, but the third was great. It went in for about an hour walking and had a host of beasties to gawk at. The first were crickets with really long tentacles to feel around in the total darkness. I doubt if they faired very well, they were the low end of the food chain. They would have been easy prey for the spiders and other hunters, one was a kind of short fat centipede with only about twenty legs. Now that was a touch nerve wracking, it was large and moved very fast down the rock face towards me. It looked big enough to take on even the largest of the spiders I saw in there, and that would have covered the span of my hand. A colony of bats were the last of the creatures I discovered. They were hanging far up in the middle of the cave roof, gradually migrating to darker recesses as I blinded them with my torch and flashlight. (Photo: Half a mile in - Pha noi cave, Nr Muang Gnoi, North Laos)

Small wonder I’ve written so little in the last week, I’ve not even done my journal, but the book is done and dusted. Corrections made after the proofread, the epilogue and foreword written, and even the dedication. Which is why I’ve come to the city, so I can use the internet and find the right publishing company. I said ages ago that I didn’t want to self-publish, I wanted to see my book on the shelves of bookshops. At this stage I just want to see it between covers and available, but I must find the right company, which is proving hard to do. One guy sounded great, not the cheapest but a package that suited my ideas. Then I discovered he’d had a pretty vicious list of allegations made against him on the internet. I must say the people brutally attacked him on line, so I’m having serious doubts about using him. In fact I’d be mad to, he does promise a good deal but does he delivery what he promises.