mariolandavid

[mariolandavid]

Seoul pt 1

Incheon Airport was mega. There's a Mag Lev train for Christ's sake. Even having a doctor shove 10cm of covid test straight into my brain didn't dim my childish amazement at the FLYING MAGNET TRAIN as you clear security and check in. Picking up our sims we got... the boring train instead (it was faster). I delved into CU later's INCREDIBLE weird snack selection and off we went to the L7 in Myeongdong.

A small note, having a Korean number is SUPER important for things like taxis, maps, tickets, covid results etc... just get one.

The L7 is a pretty trendy place. It's inexplicably yellow. Like wandering into a beehive. This seems a deliberate choice, but there's room for doubt that maybe someone just liked yellow a lot but there's no real theme to the chaos energy. There is one elevator servicing the laundry room, which is thus, the busiest elevator in the building, but also the one nearest the entryway and therefore the one that every staff member puts all guests into as they arrive. This lift therefore poses an enormous fire risk, logistical blockade on the building and could be replaced by a climbing wall and most guests would reach their destination faster.

The hotel staff soon fell for our charming recent engagement story (suckers) and upgraded us to a better room complete with.... a window! As modern city hotels in vibey districts go. This place was a bit of us and had laundry, comfy beds, good toiletries and an awesome location. It comes recommend unless you don't like the colour yellow in which case I would not wish the PTSD on you of staying here.

South Korea has a unique sound. The hustle and bustle of Tokyo rush-hour, melifluous friendly music celebrating every succesful train journey, a happy anime yelp as some cute cartoon character makes a quite serious announcement on a public address. Much like it's Japanese neighbour you can see a vibrant modern metropolis littered with historic pockets of an ancient people. Buddhist temples, Joseon village buildings. Ancient palaces. They all accent this futuristic place in a unique and special way with a grounding in a deep ocean of cultural character.

Of course they've got their own unique quirks. Your usual go to tour guide, Google Maps, isn't gonna be of help here. South Korea refuse to share information with the global tech giant due to the threat posed by North Korea. Open it up and it's pretty useless (Kakao maps is the local alternative), which is a small price to pay really for reduced anxiety of North Korean tunnel armies or nukes.

Look around, you'll see photobooths on every corner, a clear venerating respect for the elderly and an odd taboo about having your shoulders on display. Korea looms large on the cultural global stage. K-Pop and K-Drama are surging everywhere; their stars' shining made up and perfectly dentured faces on every billboard, mainly unrecognisable to the majority of westeners, even if their popularity is growing. Male cosmetics are much more normal here. Son Heung Min sponsors nearly everything. It's unique and rich and it's not imitating another culture; it truly wears its own face. Seoul is at the vanguard of South Korean culture and that's a special place to be right now.

We arrived on the weekend of Choseuk. A time when Koreans go to their home villages, celebrate the harvest festival & visit the graves of their ancestors. Think US Thanksgiving without the parades. It meant for us, that we were treated to a huge influx of Koreans wandering the streets in traditional old Hanbok garb staging the best photos they can on ancient street houses - it felt like stepping back in time to the 16th century, but with more selfie sticks.

Wandering around this old but vibrant piece of Seoul, we stopped into Twosome place (Starbucks impersonator) for some egg sandos, before taking the walk down Cheonggyechon, an amazing project reclaiming an old highway and turning it into a stream. There's now a walking and jogging paths, fountains and korean mosaic imagery decorating its banks as it runs down the heart of the city. Instead of a disused road track, it's a wonderful regeneration project for the city allowing exercise and a piece of relaxing nature to perk up your city stroll.

We took our first trip to a Korean photobooth. When I say photobooth, please don't picture the sorry cabin you put £6 into in the trains tation to renew your passport. These places are meccas to vanity and creativity in equal measure. Chests of props, mirrors, straighteners, adjustable lighting, filters, seats, they have EVERYTHING to make professional photos in these buildings. And there are LOADS of them. If you're in a student area, or an area with a lot of young professionals, you will see a photo booth every 2nd or 3rd street. The demand for these is astonishing. We took a few snaps which formed the bedrock of our plan to announce our engagement in the most weaabbo (or Korean equivalent) manner possible. Eventually we'd go to these photobooths every day to do this... We are who we are.

You can't go to Korea and think of food without at some point coming across K-BBQ. It's a phenomenon. Come together with a family, sear some delicious fatty pork, nibble on a never ending array of pickles, eggs, chillis and vegetables from your Bonchon. Shout and cheers the night away with family, friends and Soju. Whats not to love? We went to 853, the kind of place where you put your name down on a piece of paper and waited for that sweet porky hit.

One of the first things you notice, is that K-BBQ is not a solo dining experience. One poor misguided Yank made his way into the establishment, blundered his way through the menu and turned quizzically to his server: "what do you guys have for one person?", the answer, was a shrug. These places are made for feasting with a group. Exquisite pork, veg and sides that you cook at your table, the experience and the taste stick with you in a smoky delilcious gochujang enhanced haze. Pork cheek melts in the mouth, steamed egg wobbles delicately like a sesame infused jelly. Pickled Radish cleans your palate and gets you ready to do it all again. It's a experience bordering on the religious. But you would need a couple stomachs to go it alone

Sated (for days) we found our way back to the hotel orientating ourselves via a sinister looking building in the centre of town that cannot have been built for any other reasons than for the final battle with the Incredibles. We had another big food day at Gwangjang market to look forward to and needed to digest

You'll notice a theme in Korea. The food is central to what's going on. There's always a hip new place, a cool new dish, a new take on a classic. You won't struggle to east. Gwangjang market was a short walk from Myeongdong and had the city's most traditional foods on show rather than anything crazily avant garde. I was PUMPED. We made a necessary stop CU, the 7-11 rival for some of Korea's now intensely Tik Tok famous iced drinks. Buy a cup of ice, a plastic pouch, pour and enjoy an ice coffee. So simple, I cannot understand why every hot country in the world doesn't have these.

Strolling up to Gwangjang you see a huge corridor of stalls. People milling back and forth to sample their favourites, lots sitting down at each stall taking little bites or big whole plates, again, almost always in groups. The biggest new wave international stuff tends to hang around the outside of the market. The centre is primed for the old favourites. Tteok-bokki (rice dumplings), Bindaetteok (mung bean pancakes), Japchae (sweet potato noodles) and, in this place, Ssamjang. Or. Still living Octopus salad.

Eating the Octopus was an experience. It's unlikely, unless you are feral, that you've ever had a meal try to climb out of your mouth again. The peculiar stick and unstick of the little sucker tentacles on your mouth gives this a textural level you won't find in Pret. Drenched with salty sesame and fishy goodness, the salad is genuinely enjoyable, if not for the squeamish though like most meals, its a lot for one person.

GwangJang is a food mecca. We gorged ourselves on everything to the point that Mariola proposed something called a MukBang to me. Being concerned this was an off menu McDonalds item and being appropriately appalled at having Mcdonalds suggested right now, she hastily explained the Korean phenomenon of girls eating astonishing and disgusting volumes of messy food on their own late at night and then filming the results on YouTube. Like I said, Korea wears its own face, even if that face is engorged by some sort of Frankenstein Lasagne.

We waddled across town to the Royal Tombs of the Joseun dynasty, the royal family of Korea from 1392 up until the beginnings of the 20th Century, where you see the roots of Korea's veneration of the elderly. Not only did Koreans used to engage in a 3 year national mourning period on the death of a monarch (and you thought the Queue was bad), death didn't even stop it. There's a whole stone pathway in the tombs that is built exclusively for the use of ghosts. The Joseon dynasty is effectively the family responsible for Korea's language and much of their societal norms and traditions. They were a big deal.

Not as big a deal to some of us however as Psy. Because a short tube hop over from the Joseun burial temple was the Gangnam district. Gang (river) and Nam (south) just telling you where to go to get here, the whole place is a hilly, mega rich, mega trendy suburb that supplies a disproportionate number of the super rich, super educated of South Korean society. There's plenty of chat in the local news about how Seoul's biggest university, the best schools, top finance jobs and everything inbetween seen as 'elite' is dominated by people from Gangnam. It's cultural impact is huge too. You know about it from Gangam style (even if Psy is just taking the piss out of people from there) and if you want to see 'modern Korea' at its best, it really is around here to see it. Hundreds of cool restaurants and awesome shops punctuate the place and everyone oozes a kind of style that's cool and stinks of a lot of money to boot.

It's home to a monument to the popular song (4.5 billion views and counting) and the stunning Starfield complex. What looks like a library, book shop hybrid built into a (surprise surprise) monolithic shopping mall. As you walk down its halls, towering bookshelves on either side, you'll spot another curious phenomenon of Korea. Napping.

Students bring their full kit out for the day including pillows and maybe a spare 50k won to rent out a nap pod. Sleeping in public is really quite normal in South Korea and you'll probably just see someone having a kip in any district if you look hard enough. Some cafes specialise, some bookshops do, the ubiquitious Ryan and his Kakao friends sell a lot of nap paraphenalia as well as being intensely Korean (read, small and cute) in everthing they sell, they really encourage you getting your 8 hours.

A hard long day done, we wanted to try out Korea's other famous food export. KFC (not the Kentucky one) and found one of the local most famous spots, a less than simple job given the lack of Google map reviews in Korea.. but I love fried chicken. I have standing catch up dates with at least 3 old friends that are based around us seeing each other periodically and having fried chicken. I was not missing this.

We ended up at a cool basic joint. Two two chicken, unfortunately given that it was the holidays, this place was mainly empty. We couldn''t look out for the usual "grading signs" of a fried chicken spot (is it filled with fat old men? It's a good fried chicken joint). We here began our first, but not last, serious battle with the language barrier. In Korea, Google translate is a real saviour, because English is not widely spoken. At this particular restaurant, as well as not speaking English, we think the waitress may well have been teetering dangerously close to being legally blind. We pointed and gesticulated as well as repeating the order over Google Translate several times. Her response was pointing to a page which we had not even looked at on the menu, let alone thought we had stumbled across the Korean words to order. Her cheerful smile never disappated as we pointed to what we had ordered and tried to correct the situation, watching the words wash over her like a wam bath we sat back into our chairs and waited for our fried chicken to arrive.

As she returned with a pair of kitchen scissors and a plate of sausages, we realised something had gone wrong. At this point we grabbed the other guy in the restaurant, who, while no more fluent in English, was at least blessed with working eyesight. Through a combination of translate and pointing the mistake was fixed, the waitress was unfortunately berated by the other man for wasting sausages, and our correct order. The most garlic laden chicken wings I have ever been in the presence of, arrived. This wasn't garlic sauce, this was a full 40 cloves of garlic macerated to a pulp and poured over chicken. This would have looked like Nuclear waste to a vampire. And it was glorious.

We had however ordered, perhaps a bit too much, as each portion of chicken was probably enough to share, but we had ordered effectively enough for 4 people along with "assorted potato" as a side and dropped the equivalent of £40 on a fried chicken dinner, which was some going. I could barely move by the end, but I went to bed a happy man.

That's it for Seoul Pt 1... more to come 

[mariolandavid]

Leaving Bangkok

There were signs that it wasn't to be a smooth day from the outset as we left Bangkok. The Staybridge suites, calm, placid and peaceful room heard the first gentle tap of raindrops on the window.

Rain fell, and fell, and fell. Puddles, became pools, became streams and finally floodplains. Streets began to resemble the nearby Mekong; whole areas became submerged. A Typhoon whipping the streets of Thailand's Capital with a force not seen in 10 years. Nature's scary.

Fearing the worst, we called a taxi 4 hours before needing to. As we sat in the lobby, drenched figures started shambling into view. We crept to the door and dared to poke a heads out. Motorbikes were turnig back in the face of the new river, cars caused crashing waves that swept the pavements as they sped past, their lights glinting on the waters surface like gemstones. The particularly brave abandoned their shoes and tryed to wade through with shopping bags (and shoes) in hand. My idea of walking a bit down the road to "a less wet bit" was quickly shot down, so instead we waited and attempted summoning taxis (an ordeal taking at least 20 minutes and a lot of cancellations).

Soon a car pulled up. We piled in and the poor guy began his descent into Waterworld. Attempting 3 different routes to get out of the city, each one blocked by a larger body of water than the last. Being ferried (literally) through the cityscape, staring out the window at this flooded metropolis, we watched the outside world captivated at this rising water.

People were huddled in doorsteps and cafes; losing any sense of 'i gotta be somewhere' or 'better get home'. A guy sat at a table drinking another beer, because fuck it right? Friends ordered one more round of clams in the streets, watched the rain and laughed. You'd think it was the most normal thing in the world for people to see their home sink beneath them. If I can't go somewhere, why wouldn't I have another satay? Norms and deadlines go out the window as the weather held time, space and your day to day routine in a headlock while it did it's thing. When it rains it rains here, and everything else gets a break.

Jealous of the pockets of people living in this new time vortex, we sadly had somewhere to be as international airports don't subscribe to my romantic notions of time stopping. Our taxi driver heroically got us onto the highway and sped us onto Suvarnabhumi Airport - arriving in plenty of time still we settled down at one of the airport restaurants enjoying a massaman curry (not terrible actually) and calmly waited for our plane.

The calm we felt was short lived. The South Korean government decided that this had all been too relaxing a trip to the airport and pulled out its own clusterfuck curveball at us to rival biblical floods. Their box of tricks consisting of an unannounced mandatory visa for all Non Koreans entering the country.

The K-ETA, a wonderful new piece of bureaucracy imposed 6 days before our travel date, was briefed to us by the airline via the following routes. Emails - 0. Airport announcements - 0. Airport Staff informants - 0. A fucking post-it note somewhere saying BEWARE OF VISA REQUIREMENTS - 0. Yep. No information. Nothing. I was more aware of Russian espionage activity in Ukraine than my own visa requirements at this point. Cue a line of flustered & panicked non S Koreans (yes, all of them) in a huddle at the front of the check in desk, desperately filling in visa applications online.

Of course Air Asia, could have told people in the queue, to do this in the queue to check in, or in email the week before. The K-ETA website could accept photos larger than 30kb (the data footprint of a Nokia ringtone) They could accept non-S Korean debit cards (S Korea really hates these for some reason). Nope, we like to see you sweat. Keep trying.

As we helped 2 poor german girls use our credit card, our visas were granted. With 2 minutes until check in slammed shut we gratefully sprinted to the plane, losing Mariola's water bottle en route but avoiding having to pay £800 for new flights or losing 3.5 days of our trip to waiting for the the rescheduled flight offered. Lucky us.

I could go on, but I will summarise as "Go Fuck yourself Air Asia" and stop there as we were on the plane.

[mariolandavid]

Pai

We departed Chiang Mai early one sunny morning; heading to the town bus station to catch one of the many connections that take you over and up the snaking hills into the sleepy little town of Pai.

Pai is a landmark destination round here. It's billed as being an unspoilt piece of trannquil heaven in a bustling busy world. A place left preserved and relaxed in the midst of stunning Thai hills, verdant landscapes and buddhist zen peace. Backpackers have trekked here for years and it's an infamous kind of "come for 2 days, stay for 2 months" kind of destination.

Getting there however comes with its own challenges. Firstly, there are a set amount of buses a day, if they're all full, you're a bit stuck. When I say 'bus', please don't think of National Express. This is a van. You are not really treated differently to the luggage except that mercifully no one will try strapping you to the roof. A guy crosses you off a list, you get in the van, strap yourself in and buckle up for the 4 hour ride.

And I mean, you buckle up.

The road to Pai comes paved not with hopes, dreams or gold, but with bends. Twists and turns. 762 of them to be terrifyingly precise as many people were to us. And you're also told "you will feel every single one of them" I guess given that you are in effectively a Ford Transit Van without a ton of suspension, that makes sense, the other thing not going in your favour on having a restful journey is the dramatic lack of patience the drivers of these vans have for any stopping, waiting, basic traffic etiquette or pity.

Two spaniards joined us (obviously) with the bravado to attempt sketchwork on this journey. 762 bends. Unless they had forearms made of weighted granite, or were drawing meandering rivers and lightning bolts, I didn't see how this was gonna work out.

A pair of German girls, tried to appeal to the sensibility of the driver. "Can I sit at the back or the front please, I get car sick" came the perfectly reasonable request. "No time for that here I'm afraid girlie. Buckle up and bring a bag" was the abridged response from the driver, giving the luggage he had already spent his valuable time strapping in precedence over the safety of remaining vomit free of the rest of his passengers.

We watched one of these girls gradually shed the pallor of her skin minute by minute in this van, clutching a paper bag in anticipatory dread as the moment never came to break the nausea. The sketchbook too, slowly ruined, as we lunged at terrifying pace into 180 degree hairpins before it was quietly put away. Instead you saw a van full of young 20-30 somethings intensely staring out of the window or at single points on the floor. Clutching at a bag, a headrest, the ceiling, or another human as intently as a newborn baby clutching its mother in an attempt to not be flung to another seat.

Mariola popped a couple of seasickness pills and settled into a quiet stupor. I retreated into Series 4 of the Wire. The two breaks for snacks and the cursory 'customs check' (bribe stop) passed by happily before we arrived at our destination a full hour an 20 minutes ahead of schedule. Yes, I was not kidding when I said we were hurtling through those bends. Take the damn seasickness pills anyone reading this.

Arriving at Pai you appreciate why it's had such a roaring backpacker trade for so long. It's a sleepy little town. A couple of long main streets with side offshoots. A host of bars with a combination of old traditional thai looking wooden shacks and new "distressed" but clearly well funded western aimed eateries and boozeries; the place bristles with Gap Yah energy. You can fondle crystals & try on elephant pants while you wait for your coffee & browse an astonishing array of mediation & yoga retreats. At any moment someone could take your flat white order and enquire about your Chakras. It's 100 Baht for a motorbike if you want to see the surrounding area. There's worse places to learn to drive a bike than Pai. Traffic's minimal and the roads are wide and open. The whole place just oozes a relaxed feel. You can choose your own pace and rhythm and get all life's little enjoyments.

Oh and marijuana is legal and ubiquitous. That's the other thing about why this place is a hit with the backpackers. Historically unique to Pai as being more 'laid back' with the laws, since June 2022 Marijuana has been a legally regulated substance evrywhere in Thailand, so now you can find it in the corner shop next to the Mentos. The culture in Pai hasn't changed though, it seems pretty fundamental to the way of living here.

We were staying in Rim Pai Cottage, a peaceful quiet little place with its own pool down by the river. Greeted by a receptionist of indeterminate fluid gender we were shown to our rooms (an upgrade over the Nolo Hub in Pai, after the scarring experience of our hostel in Phnom Penh). Opposite us a terrifically passive aggressive sign lay in front of the cafe stating how much their patrons didn't like wifi because it meant people didn't talk and that drunk people were not welcome and they had no toilet suggested we were staying opposite the most boring cafe in Thailand, but the hotel was nice at the least.

We settled in and started to explore the town. First grabbing some lunch in Charlie and Lek, some absolutely delicious pad kra pao and chicken mince laab, stunningly fresh and herby. On our way back, we saw a sign propped up outside a desk listing PAI TOURS. For the couple of chickens too scared to get a motorbike, this was what we needed. Guided organised fun. We sat ourselves down, had a quick chat with the owners and quickly found something for us. Tubing down the Pai river and a sunset trip to Pai Canyon, the local beauty spot.

What's tubing you say? Well, picture yourself in a boat on a river. Now picture yourself being hurled from that boat with nothing but a car tyre to keep you afloat as you drift down a, not inconsiderably fast, flowing river clutching a plastic bag of booze. Sounds fun right?

It's harder than it looks.

Jumping in the back of a pick up truck with four young french boys we sailed through the countryside before joining a bigger convoy of, largely israeli, people in front of a huge pile of rubber tubes by the river. Everyone got a chance to buy beers at the local shop before nestling into our tubes and being pushed into the current.

Almost immediately, the brave were separated from the rest. Anyone willing to just throw themselves their arms and limbs into anything simply pinballed off each shore, any rocks and each other merrily down the river. Anyone with a fear of using their hands and feet for propulsion and steering, or in the case of one girl, her eyes, as she couldn't bear to look in front of her, was left behind.

It's basically a lot of spinning and bumping. Like open water dodgems if in the dodgems, most of your floor had given way beneath you and was rapidly flooding. Saying you're in control is a heady bit of arrogance. Sure you can spin a bit, but basically you're left to the current and you're gonna spin a lot and bump into stuff. You can 'usually' get yourself unstuck from the shoreline if you hit something like a rock, tree or local villager, but if not a master tuber was patrolling the convoy laughing at us and spinnning everyone back in the right direction. This guy, unlike us, could move in any direction he chose using two tubes as if they were just his legs. So maybe you can get there with the control one day... respect tube man.

A blissful journey of bumping, saying hi to local people whose fishing traps we tried not to ruin and me singing Old Man River to myself in the middle of some rapids, we floated back to Pai town and got back in a van to head to Pai Canyon for the sunset.

Pai Canyon is a stunning rock formation up a few carved steps that puts you in mind of the Grand Canyon. It's stunning colours, with lush huge trees dotted around and a stunning view over the mountains as the sun sets. It was full. Every person in the village seems to come here for sunset with most in flip flops attempting mountaineering that Havaiana probably never anticipated and many get halfway through before giving up in fright.

It's worth it to get a good spot. Glinting around the landscape seems like it changes colour. You'll see the orange of the floor glimmer and glow as it shifts through a spectrum of red, brown and orange. The flaming burning sun gradually getting smaller and smaller as it nestles behind the mountain peaks, peaking past the soaring trees as everyone around you pauses and holds for breath as the last drops of light squeeze from the sky. Nature still kicks ass at letting us pass the time.

One snappy ride back later we went out to dinnner at Nong beer, getting a whole raft of local thai dishes from sizzling peanut satay, the classic Khao soi chicken which Mariola's raging addiction to was becoming worrisome & a delectable Burmese hanglay curry which just melted in the mouth. All around us the evening markets were hitting their full stride, with everything on offer to buy from t shirts, to momo's, & everything inbetwee, even tea sold in a bamboo tube by a guy in a damn Viking helmet. The place really came alive at night. It felt like the whole town came out to sell, to eat, sing and dance and the streets lit up to greet the night. Not everywhere was open yet, you could see a sizeable going out street basically still shut post Covid, but there was a really nice buzz for such a small town.

As we walked back we thought, hell, lets give a couple of bars a visit. Dropping by Jikko & the Bottle and Cat's whiskers, we'd spend the evening plotting out South Korea, talking to the owners and fending off being peer pressured into more beers and browsing through the Bottle & Cat's Whisker's Ipad menu at the array of bafflingly named blends on offer.

My memory starts to fade a bit at this point as Pai kind of shifted into a blur. It stopped being a list of activities done and places visited. It was enjoyment of being in a place. You can understand why people might lose themselves here, why they stay more days than they mean to, because this whole town invites very little pressure. It meets your basic needs, it's not trying to grab your attention in every second, it doesn't make you feel inadequate for not doing 'the next thing'. It leaves you options, it lets you be present. You choose what to do. You enjoy.

I'll mention two other places we went to deserving of a small mention and leave you there:

Pedlar - Decked out like we'd stumbled back into Bishopsgate or Hackney, distressed instagram steel, concrete and pastel paint everywhere. Black orange coffee, overnight oats & breakfast wraps were all enough to override the guilt of basically going to a London coffee shop while you're in a small Thai village

Ganita - Delicious vegan food that unforrtunately, on account of being the main billed vegan restaurant in town, attracted the most awkward people in town demanding late serving, the provenance of every single ingredient in every dish and that what they want was made even if it was off menu... enough to make you think no wonder these places clientele gets a bad wrap, but the did a mean Gado Gado and falafel!

Oh and the journey back was no better. Take the damn seasickness pills. Back to Chiang Mai!

[mariolandavid]

Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai has been gaining popularity as a digital nomad haven. The city, the largest in Northern Thailand, hosts some of the best food in the country, surrounded by peaceful ricefields and striking mountains. Due to the increased numbers of young tourists, there are beautiful coffee shops dotted around everywhere, and they live side by side the edgy hostels and up-and-coming vegan restaurants. The old town is still decidedly Thai, with its dozens of temples, and the constant, delicious stream of street food. The crown jewel? Khao Soi, a flavoursome chicken noodle soup with mustard greens and curry powder. Please, if there's one thing you take away from our time in Chiang Mai, is that you absolutely must try Khao Soi.

We flew into the city, and then proceeded to walk with our bulky backpacks to the closest city mall, as David had broken his fitbit strap and needed to find a replacement. Whilst he went into shop after shop after shop, he failed to find his prized strap, whilst recently engaged me sat down and got my nails done. I sorta think this was karma for making me walk 20 minutes next to a highway with the big backpack on...

Hidden Garden was the name of our hostel, recommended by my friend Dev, who had walked past it with his girlfriend a month prior and said it was very vibey. And vibey it was, based in a renovated traditional Thai house, with beautiful wooden floors and a cozy living room/library. The setting was also spot on: just outside the old city walls, surrounded by food stalls and markets that could fill you up for less than 200 baht (£4.80). And of course, walking around this market is where we found ourselves the first night in Chiang Mai, and where we also found a Spanish family, who knew about Oldham Athletic Football club, because life is funny that way. We had our first Khao Soi and a beef soup for dinner, and wandered around the market stalls - luck would have it that we'd chosen a great time in the week to come, as both nights of the night market were in full swingm

Our trip to Chiang Mai was going to be split in two halves, as we were visiting Pai halfway through, so for our first full day there in the first half had booked a day trip to Doi Inthanon (named under a famous prince), an important national park in northern Thailand. We knew we'd have time to do temples during the second half of our time there, and were excited to see some more nature after our couple weeks of island life.

During the tour we visited a number of beautiful waterfalls (Seriously, I mean, surely one gets tired of visiting waterfalls? I don't really get it...) got to visit a couple rice fields, tried starfruit and coffee made by one of the Burmese tribes who had been living in the area and farming for hundreds of years, and then hiked up the the tallest point in the country - which turned out to be the start of the Himalayas! We were not expecting the mountain range in Thailand to be Everest's youngest sibling, mostly because up at the top the weather was a refreshing 15 degrees. See, in Thailand, that's considered cold... we laughed. The pair of Belgian guys in the tour remained in shorts and vests throughout, whilst the girl from Singapore could not have put more layers on if she tried. I'm normally quite cold on a day to day basis, but after months of scorching temperatures it was quite nice to feel the cool, cold breeze of the mountains and be up high for a change. At the top of the mountain was a beautiful cloud forest, one of the first I'd ever visited, named that way because due to its altitude, it does not rely on rain and can instead absorb water straight from the clouds. Sounds very badass.

One of the stops in the tour was a standard touristy restaurants with nothing to write home about, but we did learn that the accents of people living in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai were different to those in the capital, as these two provinces had been part of the kingdom of Burma hundreds of years ago. Northern Thailand, Central Thailand, and Southern Thailand are very different from eachother, from religion to food to people to landscapes, and it was probably the country with most different 'types' of landscapes we'd been to so far.

On the way to the last stop of the tour (it was a packed day!), which were the beautiful King and Queen pagodas perched up in a mountain top, we learnt about the different way they measure months and years in Thailand. If you've ever read up any of Thai history and been baffled at how they're writing the years, is based on the year Lord Buddah was born. Hands down though, one of the most interesting things we learnt was the real full name for the capital city of Bangkok. Go on, have a Google... it's long.

After such an intense day of learning and walking and being driven about, we dove head first into another of Chiang Mai's night markets. All the streets in the old town were full of little stalls, some selling beautiful jewelery and clothing, some selling sweets, and luckily for us, a lot of them selling delicious food. It was as if all the town had come out to the night market, as every square, bench, and corner was packed with tourists and locals. Music blared from hidden speakers, and the temples were lit up, with the colourful and delicate amulets that hung from trees swaying in the wind. I chose to have a chicken Pad Thai for dinner (yes, sue me, I don't like shrimp/prawn), and David went for the oyster omellete. For dessert there could really only be one option: Mango Sticky Rice. We had it (and sought it out) so often that we started referring to it as MSR. We still do to this day. What a delicious treat.

Next day was considerably more low key, but it was looking promising.

We started the day with a 30 minute walk over to Chiang Mai's famous Khao Soi place, featured in the Netflix show 'Somebody feed Phil'. We've used this show and Bourdain's recommendations to seek out quality places, so when we saw that there was a great place nearby, we had to do. At 10am we rocked up there, huge grins on our faces, our bellies excited for this delicious treat. It's no exxageration that it has to be up there with the best Thai dishes, and absolutely deserves to be more well known. I had a chicken one, and David a beef one. When we were served, the chef instructed us to leave the hot sauce to our right alone, as it was too hot for us whities. We tried a bit, it was indeed hot. The place was barely a restaurant, like most great places that we'd tried in Thailand and Vietnam, it was a covered shack with a portable kitchen, with plastic tables and chairs, and a couple of huge pots of bubbling broth. It was open for a few hours a day and only took cash. It was amazing, and a snap that we took there also gained us a feature on Phil Rosenthal's Instagram! We hold that program quite dear, as when I created a surprise birthday video for David's 30th (remember lockdown times?), I timed the clips to the show's opening theme.

It was raining quite heavily, so after waiting it out as much as possible in the restaurant, we took the opportunity to spend time in a couple of the beautiful Chiang Mai coffee shops. Reading, blogging, and just generally chatting for hours and ends. When you don't have a fixed place to call home, you do have to 'force yourself' to take time to unwind in places that wouldn't be my first choice. So you pull your tablet out in a coffee shop, or rock up at a pub with your Nintendo Switch - it's hard to get away from the mentality of doing things all the time, but after such a long travel marathon, you can't be cramming an activity into every waking hour. Embracing the quiet moments is important, especially if you can use them to plan forward or deal with admin... you'd be doing the same at home anyway.

After a couple hours, we ventured into the rain (which had considerably slowed down), and visited three different Wats, and admire their beautiful Chedis . You could take your shoes off and go inside to admire the intricate carvings and paintings. All of them had different styles and shimmered in the gentle rain, and are the standing evidence of the importance of this area of Thailand during the 12th to the 15th century. Some of them, as history tends to go, had been destroyed or badly damaged in the Burmese invasion.

We held ourselves off from lunch due to having had a big breakfast, but also because we'd booked a food tour to really experience and get to know the different culture of food in northern Thailand. In our tours with us a couple of Irish lads, both who had remote jobs (one based in South Korea, one in the US) and owned their own businesses. They struggled (or didn't want to) explain what it was that they did for a living, but it sounded like they owned a real estate company and/or a recruitment and sales business. They were fun.

We booked through 'A Chef's Tours' which we'd heartily recommend, as not only do they tour you around different food stalls, but take you to the markets to show you (and help you sample) all the different staple ingredients that are put together to create those iconic flavours. The first stop was the 'Chinese Cowboy lady', a local celebrity whose family had ran the stewed pork knuckle stand for generations. To give you context for how famous this woman/stall is, pre-Covid, she was selling 500kg of pork knuckle a day. Wow. Obviously, and you should expect this by now, it was featured in the Bourdain show. It was an absolutely delicious meal, but the fact that this was 1 meal out of 12 did give us all pause... we'd have to be careful. To go to the next stop, we jumped on a Songthaew painted bright red; these 'buses' were used as public transport across all of Thailand, with their small benches and cramped quarters. They reminded me of a more rudimentary American school bus, with their boxy shape and fun colours.

Our next stop was cracking'', literally. Someone had learnt that hanging pork belly over the edges of a clay pot and sticking the pot on a charcoal bbq (after hollowing out the bottom, of course), produced the absolute best pork belly and crackling you can have. What an absolutely delicious discovery, one I hope you get to experience. But it was not only about eating the food! We got to learn about the history of the region with its strong Burmese influence (lots of Burmese people came here illegally), discovered the 12 spices used to create 'Laab' and how they were mostly influenced by the Chinese and Portugese. The Chinese also brought with them the technique of frying (as well as noodles, of course), so we do have a lot to thank them for... Honestly the more we travelled around SE Asia, the more you realise that China's influence in the region (which we don't learn much about in Europe) goes back millenia.

We also learnt about the 'Royal Project', a (successful) undertaking by a recent king of Thailand to move away from planting and harvesting Opium, and to move towards planting and harvesting strawberry, avocados, and other fruits and vegetables that thrive in the northern climate. What a bold move! Very happy it went well.

Here's a list of everything we tried when we then went to the market - we spent a few hours there, and then went to a Shan (Burmese) vegan restaurant. If that wasn't enough, we ended the night with another restaurant, and a couple food stands in a famous food market in Chinatown. (It's a lot! Do this tour)

- Salted egg and coconut creme crepes

- 3 types of chili paste

- Pork crackling

- Rambutan

- Sugarcane juice

- Shan pizza

- Tea leaf salad

- Northern Thai sausage

- Burmese pork curry

- Water buffalo salad

- Water buffalo soup

- Nam Ngiaw (chicken blood and tomato stew)

- Pandan and coconut buns (the lady sells 300 of these a day, and only between 4 and 11pm!)

- Dua loi (coconut warm dessert)

Honestly, we were stuffed. It was amazing, and I'd super recommend you book your food tours through them. We also got an answer about the Thai cutlery, as we'd been given forks and spoons everywhere so far, and none of the chopsticks we'd grown used to over the last few months. Turns out, once 'western' cutlery had reached their shores they realised they preferred it - but don't put the fork in your mouth when having a noodle soup! Twist the noodle on the fork, pleace the noodle in the spoon and then, enjoy.

Our first few days in Chiang Mai had been full of culture, food, music, and a delirious amount of exciting things to do. We couldn't wait to come back.

[mariolandavid]

Koh Samui - Pt II

One surprisingly pleasant boat ride later, we were back in Ko Samui port. Less eventful than previous journeys, we hadn't seen Argentinian's clutching yerba matte cups like babies clutching a dummy, no Australian PE teacher had assaulted us with direct friendship. We did see Dave, the dive instructor, wandering up and down the boat with his shirt off, but that felt normal by now.

Our opinions on Dave differed. I was of the opinion he had morphine in his veins. I'd never met a more laid back dude. Mariola instead thought he harboured a malignant rage that was waiting for a spark to set it off. Hellfire would spew from his eyes if you crossed him. Jury's out if he's a surfer dude or an axe murderer I suppose.

We got to port and I started to lean to serial killer more when Dave boarded our bus with his "friend" (potentially his muscle) Gary. Gary's a name that's going out of fashion in the UK, with new Gary's having fallen to as low as a mere 28 in 2013. Currently best known for fading miserable footballers and musical paedophiles it's a tough moniker to carry. This Gary didn't seem to be either of those, but did run his own dive schools and didn't look strong enough to hold both of us down in a double murder attempt, so we could relax. We smiled politely as we drove onto boujiest stay of the trip. The Belmond Napasai Ko Samui.

This place was something. My tight arse north of England lizard brain fails to properly describe this stuff. So instead of saying "dead nice" I'll hand you over to a guest paragraph from Mariola:

You know that feeling when, after an intense day of running around and sweating, you get to kick your feet up and crack open a cold drink? That relief of walking into a bar or a restaurant or a shop with AC, after being out and about for hours in the sun? That sound you'd make? That was the place. The sort of place you oggle at in magazines, and you whisper to your friends, "I wonder what it would be like to stay there"? That place is the Belmond Napasai. Occupying a large estate, with beautiful wooden buildings dotted around, the structures reflecting in the glittering warm water of the Thailand gulf. Tennis courts, a small farm, an infinity pool, a gym, and wall-to-wall windows so you get uninterrupted view of the sea no matter where you are. Your room, all rooms are suites, is massive, with obviously all sorts of toiletries and amenities to make your stay easy and hassle free. There's a scent of flowers all around the resort, and comfortable seating spread around everywhere. The sort of place you'd walk around barefoot in, wearing a long white dress, feeling at one with nature. A special place.

Everyone here was grade A amazing. Saul, a Mexican, was incredibly keen to make us feel welcome. Spouting a fountain of Spanish at us upon learning our nationalities/linguistic skills. Esme the lady behind the desk would have given me her last rolo, if she'd been ordered to break her own spine to hand it to me. Alla the customer relationship manager was customer savvy enough to take a damn hint (more on this in a bit) and kept the wheels turning in the whole place, ears on the ground. The team here was exceptional, they made the place.

Belmond are kinda ridiculous. They only buy crazy historic opulent railway cars, or period piece hotel buildings with some history and character behind them. You feel very Agatha Christie. That's the purposeful vibe they're going for. You get to feel like you're solving a murder while someone in a white tux fixes your martini. The Peruvian and European editions we've seen (from a distance) are well out of a normal human's price range, but this one seemed undervalued... maybe a COVID thing, or maybe just where it is in the world. We snapped up the opportunity.

That analytic opportunism doesn't mean we don't make mistakes too. I was accidentally bamboozled into buying a bottle of Evian water at lunch and that mistake will haunt me. God Evian is expensive. It is WATER for christ's sake, what makes it so expensive? But anyway, it washed down the catch of the day & pad kee mao enough to get us psyched for our afternoon sailing.

We'd signed up for the Hobie Catamaran sailing class, embracing at this point the attempt at posing as aristocratic billionaires, Mr Ridley style, by learning how to navigate a boat. I think we'd expected some dream like experience gliding through the water without a care in the world like a Rolex ad. The reality that greeted us was a pleasant enough, but very grumpy Thai man complaining "NO WIND" over and over again as if he was a novelty answering machine.

"Hey where am I meant to sit?" NO WIND

"Do you think it'll maybe pick up in a bit?" NO WIND

" So how long have you worked here?" NO WIND

I could have asked him about anything & he would have told me about the wind. He also only described directions in the most intangible fashion possible, forgoing the usual way you and I would say "right" or "left"; or even the nautical versions of Port and Starboard. I could have took a stab at those. Instead simply" "INTO THE WIND" when A.) There was no wind & B.) there was some wind, but it changed direction constantly & C.) I've never driven a boat in my life. I don't know my arse from a mainsail, I think I nearly ripped my ankle off on a piece of rope. Into the Wind helped no one.

Anyway. Sailing didn't go well. We weren't charged for it. I don't think this man enjoyed his afternoon. Did we?

I'm unsure at this point in our travels if Spaniards have been hidden all around me for my entire life, or if dating a spaniard has just made me more sensitive to them. Maybe no one expected the Spanish Inquisition because they hid excellently in plain sight. In this hotel, there were close to 14 Mallorquins & other assorted Spaniards. given that we had seen someone from Iberia daily since we got to Hanoi, despite being 10,000km away from Spain, I was starting to question whether Bill Gates had opened my eyes to hiding Spaniards with his magical COVID vaccine. It's probably not that.

They made a lively bunch in any case, always shouting, yelling, it felt borderline aggressive. There was a fiery passion in every conversation. Something behind a simple question about whether you wanted fish tacos or spring rolls sounded like a deathly insult had been thrown at Pedro's mother and a duel was the only way to restore his satisfaction. With this backdrop, you can only relax in small doses. Relaxing by the pool becomes a gladitorial event. Meal times, a Last Supper of betrayal, joy, weeping and melody. I like the Spanish passion and honesty, it makes the quiet four person dinner tables of English people I'm used to back home feel funereal. It's a different way to experience. It's on the edge of emotion, always feeling and animated. It sounds exhausting, like you can't relax and think because the words already came out of your mouth. But they're warm. They're kind. They're fun.

Suitably relaxed (kind of), we headed back up to the room to freshen up for dinner. Suddenly a knock came at the door. Mariola, stark naked, sprinted, gazelle like, grabbing a robe with a flailing hand on the way to locking herself into the toilet. It was the turndown service... Two guys entered the room, proceeded to comb every inch of room making it warm, cozy and inviting. They were confused why I had banned them from entering the toilet. I can only presume they thought I had commited some abomination in there which I was at the very least penitent enough to protect their noses from, but hey I bore this cross. For 6 minutes. Which to Mariola, still locked in there, probably felt longer. She would later say that for this entire time she panickedly expected that the bath was being prepared with rose petals for an engagement proposal. That 6 minutes brought up decades of anxiety. Fear and frayed nerves with only an Armitage Shanks bowl toilet to soothe the pain. Yikes.

Speaking of proposals, there was one brewing. I'd not prepared anything in particular. I hadn't gone to great lengths to elaborately plan or choreograph a great show. I hadn't hidden something in the claw of an eagle ready to swoop down mid paraglide and slip a ring onto her finger. What happened instead was reality.

I'd picked a good spot. The hotel in Koh Samui was the nicest hotel we had stayed in, everything ooze comfort, class and the setting was romantic. I get a tick for that. Beachside restaurant? Tick. Fairy lights and the quiet sounds of lapping waves around us while a singer gently hummed in our ears. Another tick. Sumptuos pumpkin soup, fresh tuna tartare & a delectable fresh prosciutto wrapped white snapper. Fresh white catch of day fish in a unctuous sauce surounded by fresh vegetables, crunchy and delicious? All round ticks.

Here's where it started to unwind.

Firstly. The damn Mallorquins. There was a table of 12+ of them next to us. The noise at the lunch menu had been enough to frighten birds away. The furore at an engagement would make both of us want to shrivel up and wither away.

Secondly. Embracing the "fuck it do it anyway" energy that carries many of us through life, within seconds my brother had texted me. He had broken up with his girlfriend of 6 years. I'm not calling in sympathy chips, it's a terrible thing and I was really sad I couldn't be there for him. But, it was also a major mood kill..

These roadblocks subverted, the ring bulging urgently and seemingly screaming "LOOK AT ME" from my pocket, we walked back to our room.

"It's a lovely view. We should go to the balcony" (it was pitch black)

"Err okay, but you can't see anything"

"It's nice anyway though, let's see what we can see"

Was it too obvious at this point? I'd probably been sweating for an hour without realising it too. The "fuck it do it anyway" energy carried me through and I blurted some 25% of the pre-prepared words I had thought of to my media-naranja, was immediately castigated by being asked "where's the speech" to which I tried to rush through the rest, and evidently did enough of them to be rewarded with an accepting finger greeting the engagement ring I had been carrying aroud South East Asia for 3 months and a joyous grin behind it.

Oh, and I opened the box the wrong way around. Turns out the big bit is the top. What genius thought that up?

Initially, we decided a few things

1 - We weren't going to tell people immediately, the first night was just for us.

2 - We weren't going to do the "here's the ring on the finger" shot. We wanted to announce it, but not that way. At least not immediately, and only in our own way.

3 - When we did decide to tell people, Mariola preferred to call people to tell them individually. My lizard brain decided this wasn't my style (I never call anyone) and opted to text the majority instead. Different ways. No right or wrong.

But both of us went to bed happy.

The next day, no time for it to sink in, we were about to go get embarassed by a former ATP tour tennis coach. Getting carted over to the courts at 8am for a lesson, I was put through my paces. I have never actually held a Tennis racket in my life. This was quite obvious within 20 seconds and every time I connected with a ball ("polite small clap") and it didn't go sky high ("see, that's better") I was 'encouraged' by the masses while I tried to decide if Thai jail was all too bad a punishment for smashing someone's condescending gonads with a tennis racket.

Perhaps I was too distracted to give it my all by the gathering thoughts around how we could extract free stuff out of the hotel and every person we met for the next 2 weeks by regurgitating an engagement story. Alla the relationship manager was our first guinea pig for this approach; one outpouring later there was a free bottle of wine, a bed of flowers waiting in the room and a wonderfully kind personal note written from the staff.

Sadly no other attempts in the next 2 weeks at using the engagement for free things had any success so I should have focused more on my forehand.

We spent the rest of the day sunning, learning to paddle board, snorkelling and revelling in a heady glow of what it meant to us to be engaged, what we wanted from marriage, whether it was or wasn't a change, when we wanted to actually engage with the prospect of the realities of wedding planning or being married (we were still travelling in any case.. kind of already had logistics to deal with before this) and when would we tell EVERYONE.

Over dinner, a spicy pork neck laarb & laab tod plus a Thai southern curry tasting and blue crab noodles with yellow curry, we built up the courage (substantially aided by the free bottle of wine) to hash out our sentiments, thoughts and feelings and told the people we really wanted to tell.

It wasn't entirely smooth. The first approach to tell Mariola's das was to video call him with the ring in shot. He answered with a black screen

"what?"

"Dad turn on your video"

"I'm at a conference"

" can you look at the video?"

"My phones in my pocket, what is it"

"I'm getting married"

"what?"

*phone disconnects*

We polished our Tub Tim Krob, chocolate ice cream and the rest of the (honestly, awful) red wine and turned in. Next morning we were kindly sent off on our way with a pair of braceletes blessed by buddhist monks to wish us well and we made our simple easy way to Ko Samui airport. We'd loved the time in Ko Samui and Napasai was incredibly attentive. An incredibly couple of days. A wonderful new chapter of our lives ready to start.

Perhaps the universe leaning in in the interests of Karma, the cab only played Ed Sheeran the entire way. You can't have everything your way in life.

At least she said yes... On to Chiang Mai

[mariolandavid]

Time to explore Koh Tao

After our experience with ferries in Bali, the ferry to Koh Tao felt like absolute luxury. It was fast, comfortable, and there were no taxi drivers or tour guides accosting you as you stepped off the boat.

Koh Tao was a spot in our intinerary that we hadn't planned much of. In fact, Thailand as a whole we hadn't prebooked much, preferring to arrive in the area and see what took our fancy. After a couple days in Koh Samui, where most of the things to do are to lay on a beach and party, we weren't too sure what we were going to get up to in the smallest of the three islands in the gulf of Thailand.

Our hostel, the Loft, was not great. Our shared bunkbed room was tiny, so much so that it would be best described as a hallway. We had paid extra for a 4 bed room with AC, but the power of the air conditioning was such that the whole room was absolute freezing. I say 'room' liberally, because it was more of couple of woodchip 'walls' that separated our 4 bed room from the 6 bed next door. I took a deep breath, and as usual in situations that I'm not comfortable with, tried not to process it very much and escape somewhere else in my mind. The bathroom is best we don't talk about.

As we walked among the cities, we could tell Koh Tao was very very empty. A lot of shops were shut, restaurants empty, and streets in general were unkept. However, what was obvious was that this island was a laid back paradise, where the main activities were to swim, scuba dive, and sit on the beach whilst watching the amazing sunrise. Despite restaurants and shops being closed, you definitely got the feeling that most people came here to complete a dive course or work as dive masters, as there were lots of houses and flats for rent, and a lesser focus on touristic activities.

What was also obvious was that the food here wasn't going to be strictly Thai, but mostly Mediterranean inspired, and we dove straight in with an "Asian" salad and roasted vegetables for lunch right on the beach front. For the rest of the afternoon of our first day we lounged about in the beach, swam, read our books, and booked a scuba course for the following day. Behind us, a couple of girls were excited to start their 3-4 week stay in the island, where they would take a diving course and then hopefully become a certified instructor.

I was looking forward to the next day's scuba activities, despite being a bit apprehensive at first. When I was young, all I wanted to be was a mermaid or a marine biologist, and somewhere between going to university and moving to London, I'd lost sight of my absolute passion for swimming and water activities. Throw in some chronic self esteem issues, and it had been a long time since I'd felt free to enjoy the water and lean in to activities I knew my inner child would have loved. I'm thankful we spent time in Koh Tao exploring scuba diving, and as we watched the stunning sunset from the AWOL beach club and followed it with some delicious middle eastern dinner at Milk & Honey, I was excited and nervous for our Discover Diving course.

An early wake up for our diving course with Simple life divers called for a delicious sandwich on the way to the centre. Koh Tao is absolutely full of diving schools, and we found this activity quickly and easily direct with the school. It was a half day mix of theory and practice, where we had to answer some health related questions, watch a few videos about diving safety, and then answer some questions to ensure we'd understood what we'd seen. But first, we had to take our shoes off: "You won't need them today". As we sat in the lobby filling out questionnaires, the real appeal of Koh Tao became crystal clear: this island was very famous for the beautiful clear waters and the magnificent sea life, and the diving school was full of young people undertaking PADI courses, doing fun dives, or training to become dive masters.

Our dive master for the day was called Dave (of course), who had ran a construction company in the UK and had a passion for diving. When he retired early (he was not even 50), he moved to Koh Tao to make his hobby his job. He was easy going, extremely friendly, knowledgeable, and had a mischevious glint in his eye. You could tell he was a good and responsible teacher. Dave was so laid back, in fact, that I wasn't sure if it was all a mask for someone who had done some terrible things in the past. With him was Jack, who was barely 23 and was learning to be a dive master, and was shadowing Dave during his course.

Having had a history of asthma as a child and not being the most chill person on earth, I was probably more stressed out than David, which I think the staff could tell once it was our time to go on the boat. I knew I wanted to do this, but I wasn't sure if I would know how to calmly breathe underwater or how to now what tube to breathe through, or what tab to pull to float up. Divemaster Dave could probably see the panic in my eyes and assigned himself to be my teacher for the day, whilst Jack oversaw David's day. The four of us started off in a very shallow beach, where we had to slowly kneel down with our heavy scuba kit, and learn how to adjust our flotation devices (not the technical term), to ensure our knees stayed on the sand.

Once we mastered that, it was time to try and go underwater. We once again knelt down, but this time in an area that covered our heads, and, whilst holding hands, we had to relax and start breathing under water. It was a bit of an awkward position, and I think you're still in shock and not sure what you're doing for the first few minutes, but they keep encouraging you to breathe slowly and deliberately. The main rule in scuba is: don't hold your breath. I agree that it sounds stupid, but actually, concentrating on breathing in and out normally whilst also not fixating on it, is harder than it looks. You are underwater and it's definitely not a normal thing humans should be able to do!

I was able to calm down a bit quicker and regulate my breathing, as I've done a fair amount of snorkelling and normal diving in the past, so being completely under water isn't foreign to me. David however struggled with having to breathe through his mouth more than I did, but we were both able to pass the two skill tests (one is moving the breathing tube out of your mouth, breathing out slowly, then putting it back in. The other is to fill your glasses with water and learn how to push out the water without having to resurface) at a satisfactory level. Success! We then moved further into the water and, holding our instructor for dear life, started to slowly swim and descend underwater. As we went deeper and deeper, I really understood how being shy or nervous could go against you in diving: you can't call out to someone if your ears are in pain, or if you don't think you're breathing well, you have to physically tap them and explain using specific sign language. When scuba diving, being polite and not wanting to make a fuss is dangerous. So, when I couldn't clear my ears and equalise, I tapped Dave in the arm, signalled my ears, and we stopped descending. This act really helped my confidence diving, and from then on, I was able to identify when I was getting nervous or when I wasn't breathing properly, and take the appropriate steps to calm myself down.

We'd initially only booked one dive, but after seeing beautiful fish and relishing in the feeling of being completely underwater (I was wide eyed and in disbelief most of the time), we obviously booked a second dive. So, off we went, to a famous sandbank and a renowned scuba diving area where coral could be spotted and manta rays were frequent visitors. This second dive was loads better, as we no longer had to be holding our dive instructors and could swim and explore 'by ourselves' (they were right behind us). If we wanted to swim deeper and explore the sea bed, we slowly descended whilst equalising, and if we saw a beautiful fish, we tapped our companions and marvelled together. Jack was able to shoot some quick footage of us during this dive, which was lovely of him as normally they don't let you bring a camera until you're certified to ensure you're focused on the diving mechanics. Fair enough really.

After the second dive, as we emerged beaming and feeling extremely thankful for this adventure and opportunity, the dive masters served us tea, coffee and biscuits. Everyone was in good spirits as we sailed back to the dive school, the boat cutting through the aquamarine waves, the sun beaming down on us. I'll admit it, I definitely cried a little bit. I'm glad we have this blog to remember this. I knew I'd dive again.

As we'd done the day before, we made our way to a beach bar in Sa Ri beach (definitely recommend) and watched the beautiful sunset, giggling as many dogs played in the sand. A DJ was playing, and all the patrons were just watching the sky turn a beautiful shade of purple, then pink, then red, until it dissapeared beyond the sea. We had definitely walked to the 'strip' or the most popular street in the island, as there were a lot more people walking around, sitting in the many bars and restaurants, lounging in their hotel balconies. For dinner, we were set on eating Thai food, and set our hearts on Mama Piyawans, a food cart/shack behind a 7/11 that served incredibly fresh and cheap Thai food. A Pad Thai and a Thai Green Curry later, and feeling satisfied and slightly delirious from happiness, we set off walking to our hotel. Not wanting to walk the same way than before, we decided to walk 30 minutes next to a highway, with very low visibility and absolutely no views whatsoever. It couldn't all be idillic, friends.

Back at Loft, we packed, showered (David saw a huge lizard and kept this information from me), and got ready for 10am cruise back to Koh Samui. I was very much looking forward to our next stop, the nicest hotel in the entirety of our 6 month jaunt, and a well deserved rest and pamper. We bumped into Dave on the ferry back, who was on his way to the hospital, and clambered up into a weird taxi/van/bus hybrid that took us to the Belmond. I wouldn't say it was the most glamorous arrival to the 5* hotel of dreams that awaited, but you can't have everything in life.

Koh Tao was a relaxing and beautiful stop in our journey, a real ode to slowing down and appreciating the beauty around you sort of stop. I would recommend it to anyone.

[mariolandavid]

Ko Samui - Pt 1

Nature is frightening. That terror comes in many forms. Hurricanes. Cyclones. Earthquakes and Volcanos. It tears the ground from under us. Rains fire from above. The forces of nature are a horrifying and terrifying force. It can be said at times that Mariola occupies this bracket of natural force. When wronged, when unhappy, you don't want to be the wrong side of it. Sukhothai airport were not so lucky.

"You're an airport. And you don't take card. Well that's embarrassing isn't it"

Having not forgotten the ludicrous taxi situation on the way into Sukhotai, the airport nowhad the temerity to deny snacks and a diet coke. Why? Because we didn't have cash. Not being able to use a credit card in an airport, by definition an entry point of international currency; where those arriving might not have seen your currency in their lives, should be in the same bracket as Bubonic plague infection. Once a systemic issue. Now rarely mentioned.

Unfortunately no one has told Sukhothai airport this. So here we were, angrily grumbling. Wronged. Frustrated. Bangkok luckily is in the 21st century and therefore find it easy to separate 30 somethings from their money via card transactions. Bonchon was happy to do so; tempting us to pay over the odds for soy garlic wings meal deals. These were semi divine. A nice break from blog writing. I was all in for this layover. Take my Visa and bring me wings.

Even Bangkok construed to ruin this enjoyment by being a little goody goody. That dweeb who turns up at your work softball events, with their small laminated ring binder filled with rules and regulations. Who wrings joy from the world. Who finds the pettiest rules. Enforcing them to a draconian tee. Forcing hapiness from this earth at the expense of order. In this case, I had travelled, with a 150ml deodorant can in hand luggage through the following sets of customs. UK, France, Singapore (twice), Malaysia (3 times), Indonesia (twice), Vietnam (3 times), Cambodia (twice) and, funnily enough, Bagkok..

This time enough was enough. That excess 50ml of deoderant? Punish the interloper. Strip it from him. Leave him stinking on the runway. Into the bin it went.

It was only an hour flight and miraculously I could not sweat for that amount of time. A moment to say God rest your soul Bionsen deodorant, you did your duty.

Lub'D was a slick modern hostel. It had all the mod cons you were expecting. You could pay on card. Electricity flowed freely through these modern inventions: wires. Plumbing was everywhere. Your key was also a bracelet (okay I'll stop being fascetious, that one was actually quite cool).

Modern, well decked out and only slightly terrifying due to the planes flying 15m over your head, they were somewhat misguided in somewhow not including beer on their happy hour... but we lived. We settled, had a walk down the beach, watched a fire show, ate Prad Ka Prow and I did my best impression of Grandpa Simpson;  the speaker next to me causing me to ever so slightly mishear every single thing Mariola said all night at dinner. I'd regularly parrot back things like "Loose Cat Tweezers??", or "Energy sight hoop?". When I probably knew that's not what she'd said....

A thing we have realised again this trip, is that (surprise surprise) the two of us like organised fun. We crave it. A day without structured activity leads to societal collapse. Like with the bees. Without purpose we just kinda fall away, probably go off to bed and don't come back out again. Knowing this, we started scouring for some stuff to do and found a local ATV tour for the next day. Dusting off our driving thumbs we headed off to our dorm ready to rest.

Or at least we would have rested if the dorm wasn't filled with ghosts of my past. The bunk opposite me held a lad from Rochdale, the town over from mine growing up (horrible place, nice guy). The bed to the left had a girl finishing her first year of Leeds university. I immediately betrayed my age saying "yeah Trinity shopping centre, it's new you know". Her, obviously baffled, said "oh I didn't think that was new, is it?" to which I had to reply, well yeah no, I mean, it was new 10 years ago when I was at university....

This girl was likely in a womb at that point, waiting for the day she would speak to some old git complaining how the town was different in his day. Ah well. I'm coming to grips with having to speak to children born in the 2000's now who improbably are somehow legal adults. One day I'll get used to and accepting of it. Today I wonder why they aren't in Wimpy after their bowling party. We can all grow.

Morning came and the ATV pickup truck rocked up. Open top, just some rails in the back for protection. We were soon dealing with swirling winds as we tore down the road to the ATVs. What started with "hey this open top vibe is cool" soon became "ah hell, not a highway again" as we clung on for dear life, shielding our eyes from passing debris.

We arrived and found a Dutch family engaging in minor fraud, passing off what appeared to be a 8 year old boy as "definitely thirteen" so that he was allowed on an ATV. The cheery Australian owner was only happy to oblige, finding a miniscule bike to help this child kill himself. Frankly he did everything short of jerry rigging his own booster seat and we soon set off with the sound of cacophonous V8 engines crashing through the air.

It's a liberating experience thundering through countryside on an ATV. Nothing feels beyond you with those wheels. You feel like you're in a tank. Able to scale logs, sand, dirt, water. Land sea and earth are no barrier to your will. The group forged its own path through the landscape. Mariola and I had succumbed to the latest interne meme song ("It's Corn!") and could be heard, not only by ever other baffled non-plugged in tourist, but also in our videos, singing this weird song remixed about a small American boys love for the grain. It's hard to explain. Sorry to the parents reading this, but it's great and you should love corn. It's got the juice.

Scouring the countryside for 2 hours, scaling hills, waterfalls and cravasses, we returned to base and headed on our pick-up truck back home the return trip of course coming back in a rain shower (when travelling at the speed we were, this was akin to receiving an eyefull of wet glass 50% of the trip). We wolfed down a mango salad and some Mama noodles and hit up Samui central mall. The supermarket blew my mind. It had a damn robot selling hand sanitiser. If androids tried to sell me skincare, Aloe Vera gel drink, or any other Ponzi scheme I'd probably get it. Avon ladies should just be replaced by Wall-E and the company would probably overtake Google.

Retail therapy done (one phone screen protector & a host of snacks) we returned, freshened up and finished our night watching the fire dancers at Elephant Beach club, (outrageously talented) enjoyed a taste massaman curry at Best Restaurant (fine) before watching the systematic dismantling of fragile male egos in recent history at Ark bar. Two women stood. Towering over the pool table in skin tight clothing. A casual air and a casual devil may care laugh. A loose grip and a dead eye. These girls were monsters. Pool sharks, plain and simple. I've never seen shots like it. They were naming pockets on double cushion shots while the mysterious "male companion" chaperoning these two ladies, hosting a limp and a number of face tattoos, watched on.

My pool game peaked in 2010 when I was allowed free pre 4pm games and 20p a table after at the Brudenell Social Club. Frankly I've been in inexorable decline since entering the working world and the one day in my life I did 8 ball a guy, I would frame the date on my wall it was such a once in a lifetime occasion. These girls could probably do it in their sleep. We weren't getting suckered into this game. We were content to sit playing match after match of Connect 4 like every other couple in there (after a long day... hell, a long 2-3 months travelling, sometimes you might run out of words for a while..) - silent night over, we turned into bed.

Morning was broken by distressed phone calls. The German girl sharing our room had grossly overslept. To a panic attack level. Imagine having to pack every worldly possession you have. In a hurry, just waking up, while some Thai man who speaks a little english, but not enough to really comfort you, or convince you he's gonna wait for you, while you are tired. Most likely hungover. Possibly still stoned. All the while sweating with fear and anxiety at everything and the world. Yikes, no thanks. We had a lot of time until our boat to Ko Tao because I cannot emotionally or mentally deal with that stress.

The boat trip to Ko tao was seamless. We got a cab to the port, loaded up with carby snacks and readied for the 2 hour trip. An insanely sociable aussie PE Teacher sat next to me and recounted her moving to Vietnam and Thailand for work, how her girlfriend got her a gig in a line of crypto commercials, how, in frightening detail, she had completely totalled her motorbike in Vietnam and casuallly got it re-skinned in luminscent astral purple (looked rad) and some good spots for diving.

When I say sociable, I mean, hell this girl was friendly. She practically assaulted strangers with conversation. It was amazing, like seeing the tropes of tourretes or something else where the body can't help but react to something with a tic, but harnessed for social interaction. I, being English, am physically incapable of this level of extrovert-ism and calmly observed and reacted when it was polite to do so. You guys carry the flag, I just live in this world.

We parted ways, and all of us were ready to hit up sun, sea and surf that awaited in Ko Tao

[mariolandavid]

Sukhothai

We wanted to make sure that we allowed space for culture and history during our trip, and so we chose to go up to Sukhothai to enjoy a good dose of just that. Most tour operators offer a day trip from Bangkok, but that felt very rushed and we wanted to slow down.

So back we went to Bangkok airport, on a tiny tiny plane that headed to the ancient capital. So small the plane, that a girl was feeling the 50 minute journey slightly too much, and was sick for the entire duration of it. In a way, it’s good that she was sick in the flight, because the airport that we then landed in was less comfortable and substantially hotter than the cool air cabin. Bangkok airways own this airport, which has a portable ‘baggage reclaim belt’ that was probably wheeled off from the plane we were just in. Arriving in that airport is a frustrating travel experience because there is nothing for miles and there’s no working public transport, so you’re stuck with unofficial taxi drivers who offer to drive you for a hefty, hefty fee. Not a lot of tourists fly in, it seems. We haven’t had many of those ‘well you’re trapped and have to just get scammed and that’s that’ experiences in this trip, but it hurts when they happen. Oddly, the airport is also next to a zoo, so at least you can see zebras and horses and lions on the drive back…

With all the faff at the airport and the long taxi ride back, by the time we arrived at our accommodation it was already dark. We were staying in the Scent of Sukhothai resort, a practical accomodation with a pool and somewhere that seemed very close to the ruins. Well... perhaps we'd tried to go a bit 'too' authentic, as this hotel was just off a main road that had absolutely no streetlights, and nowhere nearby to eat or have a coffee. Due to the lower tourist numbers, our hotel also didn't do breakfast or sell anything that would count as food or drink, so it wasn't the best first impression.

For dinner, we went to a restaurant that appeared a quick 5 min walk away, but due to a river being in the way and bridges apparently not being discovered yet, was really a 30 minute trek down empty, dark alleys. A lot of places have felt different and slightly empty due to how the pandemic has affected tourist numbers, but the old town of Sukothai was something else... it was truly a ghost town. The restaurant was ran by a friendly lady who owned multiple cats who seemed to jump on tables and eat leftovers, which was not very cute. What was cute, however, was how she let us pick anything from the menu and cooked it from scratch - we had basil leaf shrimp and chicken with cashews- and then brought us some seriously delicious Mango for dessert. Mango in Thailand is the God tier, the best snack, mango sticky rice the unbeatable dessert, mango in Thailand makes you sad for every other time you've ever had mango before.

Later we learnt that most people rent bikes or motorbikes, and stay in the 'new Sukothai' (where there are buses!) and organise day trips to the ruins, which makes sense... but travelling is learning anyway. It would have meant a couple less headlamp trips at night, that's for sure.

We headed back straight away and had an early night, as we'd read everywhere that arriving before 9am was crucial to beat the crowds that apparently swarmed the historical park. Yeah... that was not the case. After our Cafe Amazon coffee and 7/11 breakfast at 7am, we found that really, the historical park wasn't that full.

Another piece of wisdom that we'd heard was that the historical park/ruins was a massive complex (true), split into four huge areas (true) and that you needed a bike to get around. However, as readers of this blog might know, David does not ride bikes. We tried a tandem, and although the kind shopkeepers were encouraging, it was clearly designed for children and not for two fully grown adults. So we turned to the only, and really, the best option of all... a hot pink golf cart.

Balling. For 200 baht an hour (less than £5), we could roll around the historical park and the roads around it, be obnoxious (oboviously we played music from our phone), and stay comfortably in the shade all day long. A no brainer.

The historical park a huge site, with the main and most preserved buildings in the central section. It is true that most of the buildings had been 'rebuilt' to what we could see, but they were still not complete structures. Coming from Cambodia, it was amazing to see the Khemer influence in the architecture, and to learn more about the Siam/Thai empire during its glory years. There are beautiful lakes that were artificially dug out to make places more harmonious or ard to reach, and lots of stupas and scattered towers along the forests and fields behind the main park.

Sukothai had been the capital of the Sukothai kingdom in the 13th and 14th century, which was after the Thais 'broke away' from the Khemer empire. Being in the birthplace of the nation was exciting, but it felt a little bit abandoned as the signs and tourist information were fadded and illegible. No dramas (as they say in Australia where I am writing this... oops), we had Wikipedia and plenty of blogs at our disposal!

We left the central area of the park and periliously drove (if you can call it that) to the Western section of the park, which was practically woodland with a few older structures scattered about. There was another fee to get into this area, and because it was further away and the buildings were harder to reach, it felt more like an exploring mission - the fact that we were alone in a hot pink golf buggy helped a lot.

For lunch, we tried an absolute classic that had been recommended time and time again. Sukothai noodles!! Made by a grandma and veritable institution, who had been serving the same dishes for years, and who had photos of what I assume were celebrities on her wall. As with most 'typical' restaurants, it consisted of a smattering of plastic tables and chairs, and a woman cooking on wok or using a deep pot that was balanced on a flimsy table. The noodles were delicious, as expected, and the delicate flavours and filling lunch made us excited for our further incursions into the north of Thailand, an area which is known for its different and delicious food.

During lunch, we got to chat to our friends, Sam, Lucy, Dan, and Charlotte, who were all tipsy and enjoying a beautiful friend's wedding in the isle of Elba. It was great to hear the same story being told twice from different perspectives - comedy gold.

After a couple of hours of adventuring, we headed back to the hotel and did... absolutely nothing. Everything was shut and there was nothing to do, so we took advantage of the calm, sunny weather and the open pool and spent most of our afternoon swimming about and topping up our tan.

For dinner, we had 7/11 gold, and made instant noodles using the kettle inside our room. Tres chic! An absolute classic of our trip, always an option in a variety of flavours, cheap, and easy to make. Would have again.

The evening was slightly ruined by the hotel receptionist telling us that there was no hotel transfer service and no bus service, and so we would struggle to get to the airport (if you can call it that) for our 9am flight. Not the most helpful.

After much back and forth, we begrugindgly agreed to a 'shared taxi', where we would pay 600 baht (15 pounds, aka, a rip off) to take a large detour to pick up ANOTHER person, to be dropped off in the airport more than 2 hours before our flight. In this airport where, nevermind the fact that there were no cafes, there were no walls!

I'm sometimes a grumpy person, but I also love the logistics and infraestructure of travel, and so when I was told that there was indeed a place to buy coffee and breakfast after security, I got excited at the prospect of a tasty way to say goodbye to the old capital. Instead, I was greeted by instant coffee powder, a kettle, and dusty snacks piled up on some shelves. My idea of a breakfast trashed. And they were going to have the audacity to charge full price for this powdered coffee that I was going to make myself! I asked the lady if she was embarrased to be calling this a shop, and then David pulled me away before I could hear her answer.

Another tiny plane that we were taken in on golf buggies... and on we went to Koh Samui!

There was a quick layover in Bangkok were we got to eat some Korean Fried Chicken, so at least we had a tasty breakfast in the end...

[mariolandavid]

Bangkok Part 1

Arriving into a country. That first journey, before you buy a sim & hook back into the web again, is kind of magical. You might just hail a guy outside the door, or wait for that last drab of Wifi to peter away as you leave, but for that first journey you don't know anything. It's as long as it is. You can't scroll on your phone. You don't recognise anything to help you. You put more trust in that taxi driver than any man other than a priest. Who knows if you're going the right way? Just experience the ride as it is. It's as long as it takes. You see what you see. Look outside & a new world goes by. Unrecognised & unfamiliar, fascinating. Mesemerising. You're in the moment. We should all ditch phones now and then. It's beautiful.

Bangkok rose above and around us like the monolithic Asian super city it is. 14 million people call this place home & it dwarfs anything else in Thailand in importance or size. It's huge. A "primate city". It doesn't have a "centre", it just spreads as far as you can see and then even further than that. Every other street has a mall bigger than a city block anywhere else. Hell, it has Boots for God's sake, what doesn't it have?

30 minutes in and out of the airport from landing, smooth as you like, was not reflected in the traffic experience. This city is in a chokehold, metaphorical and physical of traffic. Smog and fumes swirl around metal aumototives clogging the city's roads like so much cholestoral. Getting anywhere needs serious forward planning. We were taken aback at the comeback of that bringer down to reality accessory, the face-mask, which had been reasonably low key and absent for a lot of SE Asia, when we'd expected it to be ubiquitous. Going back to sweating from the lip in 30 degrees was inevitable.

We made it to our Airbnb in Bangkok despite serious reservations about whether Airbnb was legal in this particular building. An awful lot of signs suggested it wasn't, and the saluting smiling, but still surprisingly menacing security guards seemed ready to grab us and turf us out at any minute. Maybe they were playing the long game and knew about the apartment, because within 5 minutes of us arriving we turned on the air-conditioning only to see it drip, then stream, beginning to totally flood the apartment. Hey guys, no Airbnbs on punishment of Noah's biblical flood is one way to discourage the practice. Try that New York.

We freshened up. Reported the flooding to the landlord (she didn't care) and put up our laundry. The outside soon began to resemble the inside, forcing us to take the laundry down and instead turn the inside of the apartment into a cotton obstacle course. All the fuss over and done with, it was about time to eat something, so we headed to the famous Khao San road to try out some Bangkok's world renowned street food. The taxi played melodious piano covers the whole way because, that's what Asia likes, soft piano covers of rock and pop hits. Malls, taxis, you name it, it's got a piano cover in the background.

If you've ever been a sweaty 18 year old hormone drenched boy in the United Kingdom, you've probably been to a place like Khao San road if you've sampled the strip in Zante or Magaluf.. You have laughing gas, shots and marijuana (recently legalised in Thailand as of June 2022) practically thrown down your throat. Crickets and scorpions follow this aperitif, giving a more 'adventurous' feel than you'd get in your European entry level hormone hell hole. It's quite a feeling revisiting one of these pplaces in your old (er) age and makes you question your life choices and avoid eye contact with the weed guy, lest he somehow remember that thing that never happened.

We parked ourselves at a stall a little bit off the main road and sampled a bit of the Tom yum noodle soup & holy basil fried rice. Both were head blowingly, nose meltingly spiced and needed a heavy round of Mango Sticky Rice afterwards to numb the pain with those sweet sweet lipids. A few drinks later and the long day caught up to us and we turned in for the night.

The Tuk Tuk drivers here have a really scummy way to make a bit of cash. As you make your way to one of the city's tourist sites, these guys will hang around a short distance from the attraction you're looking for. Do a big sigh, hike up their britches and say "oooh no, you can't go there, that's shut today" before offering you a ride to a different monument in their taxi. How often this works when you can clearly see the queue of people walking towards what you were trying to go to in the first place... but that's the game and these guys trynna play it.

The Grand Temple is no exception to this scam, but it has its own too. Elephant Pants. As you walk around you see everyone wearing the same pants. Painfully, excruciatingly gap yah, these elephant pants, a little shapeless, the lightly jazzy shapes and colours of your 2nd year philosophy seminars are ubiquitous here to cover up tourists who forgot the "no shorts" rule, and the odd 20 year old who's just finding themselves. They're everywhere, but even they don't spoil the views of the Grand Temple itself.

The grand palace is stunningly ornate. Rama I ordered it built after moving his grand imperial capital to this part of the country and parts of it feel like you're viewing the Thai Sistine chapel. Paintings of Lord Buddha's life and the Ramayana cover every surface and the sheer vibrancy of colours,gold and noise from te singing schoolchildren and the buddhist monks is a harmonious bath of sound and sensation. It's a wonderful place to wander around for a couple of hours complaining about tuk tuk scams.

As we left to head to Chinatown for lunch via the hop on - hop off Chao Praya river boat, we did something I never thught possible. Found a Chinatown where there wasn't something to eat. It turns out we came at the total wrong time of day for anything to do with street food, and it was more of a fresh market and time for you to buy any number of cheap plastic toys and tourist trinkets. That meant hungry, mardy David and Mariola slowly, at times intensely, losing patience with each other, roads and anything else even minorly irritating. Eventually, following 50+ minutes mindless walking, indecision and bickering, we got a taxi to Home CafeTha Thien and were saved from murdering one another by some exquisite Tom Kha Kai, Larb, Pad thai & Thai milk tea. All of it aromatically humming to the high heavens with fresh herbs and spices, Thai food is just a sensation of freshness. A slow chili burn punctuted by sweet coconut, nasal floral thai basil, punchy ginger and an underlying assault of shrimp paste. Heaven.

The day continued at Wat Pho. The birthplace of Thai Massage, which is still practiced at the Temple, it's a hugely important school of Thai medicine and houses not only the remains of four of their most important kings but a 46 metre long reclining Buddha whose face makes Dimitar Berbatov look stressed. It was the earliest centre of public education in Thailand and is now a beautiful monument to Buddhism and the rulers of Thailand's Siamese period.

All templed out it was time for my other great calling in life. When the lord steps aside, it's laundry time. Most of travelling has felt like a battle with the dirty washing bag. No sooner has it been emptied, then the bag is half full again. Clogging up your bag and all it's useful stuff, with useless balls and bunches of sodden stinking t shirts and underwear. Don't get me started on stains, a resolution of this journey is is to never bring anything white again. I won't bore you with the round and round of stain treating, cold soaks and hot washes, but basically. It's a mistake and you'll regret it and ruin your stuff.

We dodged around the endless laundry and puddles of AC water (broken for the 4th time) as we got ready for the evening. Tired from temples, we still nevertheless were braving Asiatique, a huge renovation project of the old shipping warehouses in the East part of town. Sadly though when we arrived, it looked to be a shadow of the videos that had drawn us there. COVID (and admittedly, the pouring rain) had drained the life out of this place and the vibrancy wasn't there. We had an expensive, though not awful, round of red and green curries, took potentially the world's least scary haunted mansion ride, meandered up and down the docks and took the shuttle ferry home.

The idea of this trip, partly at least, was to leave our loved ones behind and, just the two of us experience a world of new delights and sensations. We'd visit the forests of Borneo, swim with sharks and turtles, scale towers, temples and turrets. Look down from volcano tops. Drink with strangers and go out at the crack of dawn to eat noodles in a shack on the side of the road. We'd enjoy everything like it was new again and do it together, with just one another to share it with. Life doesn't stop just because we've taken a break from reality though and we were greeted by some wonderful news from the real world at 1am that night as our friends Ryan and Rachel announced their pregnancy.

We might have been having the time of our lives, but news like this, makes our journey feel a little bit longer and a little bit lonelier. Missing out on news and the hapiness in your friends' faces as they tell you the news. It's a reminder. You have a home, you have a reason to be there, and you've gotta be grateful for that when you come back. But mainly, congrats to the two of you, hell yeah to you both and congrats for keeping us from sleeping because of the time difference and you not being able to keep it in your pants. Filthy animals.

Our time this time around in Bangkok was brief. We were only here a couple days as a base for Thailand before returning a little bit later. As we tried to leave, we thought we'd be staying a bit longer as a succession of taxi misdirections, lost wrong turns and traffic whittled our safety net of time in the taxi down to the "JUST FLOOR IT WE ARE GONNA MISS THE PLANE" tipping point in the taxi. We would have worried less if we had seen our plane, as on first viewings we were skeptical of it's power of flight. It looked like a relic fro the wright Brothers era, complete with oriringal propellors. Your kid brother could probably achieve more aerodynamcy with a rubber band and a barbie, but hey, it was going to catapult us to our next adventure, and we had made it there on time, so here's to you tiny plane. We're off to Sukhothai

[mariolandavid]

Siem Reap

I want to preface this post by saying that I am typing it from a laundromat in Cebu, The Philippines. Probably over a month later, and 3 countries after the events... oops. We've been busy living, I guess!

The bus ride to Siem Riep was surprisingly pleasant, and it included two stops in the obligatory tourist spots with quirky wooden figures and a plethora of weird snacks. And a beautiful terrace looking out into rice fields, which after the bleakness of Phnom Penh feels lovely. Just to see some countryside again, something a bit more clean, makes us excited to get to Siem Riep.

Most people, when visiting this part of the country, take a quick plane from Ho Chi Minh and spend a total of 36 hours in this historical place. They arrive, get picked up at 4am the next morning to go to the temples, then fly back to Vietnam straight away or early the next day. We wanted to do something different, so we scheduled a 5 day stay in Siem Riep. Thanks to my powers of persuasion, those 5 days were split as follows:

- 3 nights in Mad Monkey, a hostel chain we've grown to appreciate with helpful staff and clean facilities. The room was a definite upgrade from the one in the Big Easy, with two huge beds and a direct access to the pool.

- 2 nights in a beautiful (almost empty) 4 star resort, called Navutu, with breakfast inclusive and 3 pools.

Our plan was mainly to soak in culture for 3 days, and then have a relax and a tan.

As we arrived in the hostel, after walking with our backpacks for 20 minutes due to our refusal to be ripped off by tuktuks, we knew it was going to be a chill afternoon. You need those sometimes, a time to lay down on the hostel sofas and scroll for a few hours. Or a couple hours of sorting and re-packing your backpack. That was our first night in Siem Riep: we did our laundry, met some couple from New Zealand who told us their favourite things were hiking and getting drunk, had some beers and shots (standard welcome drink fare) and went for dinner close to the Mad Monkey to a Khmer Restaurant.

Keen to see as much as possible in the Angkor Wat complex, which actually contains 3000 temples (possibly more, but they cannot be excavated due to landmines - 30% of the country is covered in them-) and extends 1.62 square kilometres, we'd booked a 2 day tour that included the following temples:

Angkor Wat

Angkor Thom

Ta Prohm

Preah Khan

Neak Pean

Banteay Srei

Pre Rup

We learnt that at the time of its 'discovery' by a Chinese scholar, it was estimated that up to 1 million people had lived in the Angkor Wat complex. The Khmer empire, which extended to Thailand and Laos, was bigger than the Byzantine empire.

Our guide for these tours was called Sak, and he was glad to be back in a job now that tourism had returned. Originally from Siem Riep, he'd had to move to the countryside to work with his father on their farm during the pandemic, and despite being excited to be back in his hometown, he also remarked how different, how much more western, Siem Riep had become. And it was true, really, there were foreign bars and restaurants everywhere, non stop clubs, and foreigner focused markets all over. It was easier to get around than Phnom Penh, that was for sure...  

The next morning we were picked up bright and early, with our first stop being Banteay Sreay, or the pink temple due to the fact that it was built with a different stone from the rest of the temple complex. Not only that, but because of its location deep in the forest, it was extremely well preserved and the beautifully delicate stone carvings could still be observed to this day. It was a strong start, made even better by the realisation that compared to pre-Covid times, the temple complex was relatively empty. There were no huge queues, no large groups of tourists to navigate, no weaving around selfie sticks to get a good shot. David had visited the temples in 2005, and he was shocked by how few visitors there were on the day. We practically had this temple, and the subsequent ones, almost to ourselves, as groups of visitors spread out and enjoyed a slower tour pace.

In the first day of tour, we shared a bus with a Polish man who lived in Bangkok and was visiting for the weekend, a Londoner who was actually volunteering in a school and would soon move to Vauxhall (neighbours!) , and a Brazilian/Spanish family who could speak 4 languages each. There was also an older Indian man, a farmer, who spoke fervently in favour of Rishi Sunak (despite not living in the UK), and a couple from Berlin.

That first day we also visited Pre Rup, a funeral temple that was also a mausoleum, and Preah Khan, an impressive large temple which was used for Buddhist teachings. We got to know more about the 'flipflops' from Hindu to Buddism in the Angkor culture, and the effect these changes had on how the temples were built and eventually used. There was also much climbing of stairs, which, coupled with the heat, means you do end up the day exhausted - but you better be ready to do it all again the next day!

When we arrived in Mad Monkey, exhausted and dusty, folks were sinking shots, a DJ was spinning, and they were getting the crowd ready for a big pub crawl. With only one sentence, "Sorry we're doing the sunrise tour tomorrow", the crowds parted and let us slink back into our room, as we would be getting picked up at 4am. Funnily enough, when we were waiting for our pick up that next day (in the middle of a city wide blackout, cute), a number of hostel guests were rolling back in from the Siem Riep clubs, and wished us a great day.

We'd panic-bought all our tickets and passes the first day we arrived, so as to not delay the bus tour on the way to the Angkor Wat sunrise. Nevermind, most of the new people sharing our bus (a group of 4 spaniards, a guy from Malaysia, and a british couple), had not, so we still had to wait in the van whilst munching on our 7/11 breakfast. A few of the people from the day before were also on the van, so we could continue catching up and sharing travel stories.

I expected the sunrise at Angkor Wat, the biggest and most iconic of Khmer temples, to be absolutely mobbed. After all, the temple is on the Cambodian flag, currency, is photographed incessantly, and if I remember correctly, even used to celebrate the new year. It's an absolute marvel. As you explore it, it grows in size, and it's beauty becomes even more pronounced when you stop and consider how on earth they built it in the 12th Century. There were no lifts to construct these towers, there was no machinery to pull these rocks. No, this absolute unit of a temple (honouring death, apparently!), was built by sheer human labour in the space of 3 months. Reportedly 300,000+ people, and more than a few elephants were involved in its construction.

Angkor Wat, we learned, is still the largest religious site in the world. The Khmers chose this location, surrounded by water, as the pressure of the underground rivers and lagoons would stabilise and hold up its incredible height.

For sunrise, all visitors line up just before a small lagoon, and we jostle for camera angles to catch the reflection on the water. Given we didn't choose the best time to visit Cambodia (we'd really centered the whole trip around Australia and New Zealand at first... the 3 months in South East Asia were a small extra that kept growing and growing...), the sunrise wasn't perfectly clear, but it was still an incredible sight. The red light that is so famous, that appears behind the three towering towers, is actually exceedingly rare to witness, so we were happy with our blue and purple view.

We then spent a couple hours in the temple, learning and following the stone carvings in the hallways that talk about the various battles, and depict the ruler King Suryvarman II , which they believe asked for this massive temple to be built as his mausoleum.

After Angkor Wat we visited Ta Prohm, the jungle temple (which appeared in Tomb Raider!), an old Hindu site which has almost been taken over by nature. The trees have sunk its deep roots on the stone, so deep that scientists have injected it with chemicals to stop it growing and destroying the structure of the building. You definitely have to step carefully to avoid tripping over a loose rock or a tree branch.

Ta Prohm is a beautiful sight, and it's no surprise that it's become incredibly famous. It's a real, living reminder, that humans have been trying to fight back nature for centuries, and the realisation that most of the time, nature ends up winning.

We ended the tour with Angkor Thom, a huge flat building with endless hallways that was still in good shape and still had an active Buddhist 'shrine', and the Bayon temple, which had been David's favourite all those years ago. Bayon's magnificence are these hundreds (thousands?) of smiling buddha faces at the top of every tower and column. These stones, huge in size, are everywhere you look in this dizzying maze-like building, and their expressions aren't always very friendly... we got lost trying to recreate a photo David had taken 17 years ago, and actually had to call up our guide to help us get out. Photos don't capture how absolutely massive and labyrinthine these places are.

This second day was absolutely exhausting. With the early wake up and the constant walking, listening, and exploring, it's no surprise we crashed at the hostel when we arrived. After a nap, we explored 'Pub street', Siem Reap's strip of bars, clubs, and restaurants that cater to all tourists (and not just English ones as the name would suggest!). Holding onto our desire to eat Cambodian food in Cambodia, we went to the Khmer Kitchen and had Prahok Ling and Lok Lake, and then I somehow convinced David to have a massage in one of the dozens of massage parlours that line the streets. It was glorious (And hilarious).

The next couple of days in Siem Reap were pure relaxation bliss. We stayed in Navutu Dreams resort, in a huge room with our own terrace, double sinks, and massive shower. There were not a lot of people in the resort when we went, so most of the time we had an entire pool to ourselves, and spent quite a lot of time on the Balinese beds eating spring rolls and drinking delicious fresh fruit juices.

For activities, we attended a surprisingly difficult Yoga class, and booked to attend Kanell, a dinner with a traditional dance performance for our last night in Cambodia. The food was prepared by the Kimsan twins, who run the Embassy kitchen a famous restaurant with Michelin-grade food, and the stand out dish was a roasted chicken with red ant sauce. The dishes were served in between the different dances, and unless you wolfed down your food at a professional speed, at some point you had to choose between watching what you were eating, or watching the dancing. It was a fun experience, and would recommend attending if you're planning on visiting Siem Riep.

As a whole, I'd say Siem Riep deserves more than the 1 day Angkor Wat flying visit that some people seem to do. There's a landmine museum, many more temples than you can take in, and even a well-rated circus! Its liveliness, markets, and easy walkability was a contrast to Phnom Penh's slight seediness, but it's also very obviously a 'tourist town', which isn't very authentic.

It's hard to advocate for yourself when you're between Vietnam and Thailand, but we left Cambodia wishing we'd spent some more time visiting its countryside and beaches, and giving it more of a chance instead of being a 'genocide and temples' place. Maybe next time. For now, Thailand awaits....

[mariolandavid]

Phnom Penh

"Once you've been to Cambodia, you'll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death" - Anthony Bourdain

The two of us were sat at a table. 2 Large men stood tall over us. Silent. Staring. Each holding a pen, a piece of paper & a grudge against us for wasting their time.

Eyes boring into our souls we leafed through the documents in front of us. There were 400 separate notices we were expected to sift through. All the while those eyes. Unblinking continued to search us for answers.

Time slowed, crept, almost halted. Excruciating. What felt like a hundred years passed. Like we'd been waiting in that room on those tiny plastic chairs, with that endless looping rock playlist, back and forth back and forth for all history.

" Numer 23, number 112 and number 345". This satisfied the two men. Some scribbles. A half smile and they retreated into a back room.

It was one of the more intense food ordering processes I've experienced. We sat in 54 Langeach Sros, expecting the usual casual affair at restaurants. A waiter gives you a smile, greets you, sits you down and then, gives you some time and space to think about what you want to order. They come back and ask you when you're ready.

In Cambodia, this seemed an affront to the staff. Every precious second you occupied their restaurant was your time wasted and they were eager to hear from you. Not a second was to be wasted in the ordering process. They would wait a hundred days by your side if it meant not one wasted second. What this amounts to is an utterly intense stand-off between waiter and customer, stood in silence while you peruse the vast tome book in front of you with options as varied as cow penis, frog, snake and tongue and try to decide in this pressure cooker environment. This could be a course in the training manual for the Marines ...

With that out of the way, things really slowed down. Service is not fast, but the Amok, the Lok Lak and some pork ribs, with an unbelievable lime and pepper salt rub appeared. Things relaxed once we were in. You get some time to look around again. Breathe and look closer...

What you see feels fractured. There's something not quite right. Cambodia is a beautiful place. Phnom Penh a thriving city. It experienced an economic miracle in the early 2000's. It was buoyed by 000's in Chinese investment. It has soaring high rise luxury hotels, it has thriving markets, thriving streets (you can get your haircut while you're outside, and choose from models such as Xi Jinping, or Boris Johnson to style yourself on). Historically it's also had a booming tourist trade, servicing those coming to learn about the history of the country.

Look closely and all around you is an older clientele. Russian, French, British, American, Slavic. You're surrounded by what feels like a sub-class of people around you from all other walks of life. Like a lost boys club where those with no where else in society have come to find refuge. Listen and you'll hear why. Many are here for the sex trade. By some estimates 25% of Cambodia's tourist industry are here for short term sex tourism. Trafficking is a huge problem here and cheap bars like "Step Wife" "Pussy Cat" and "Dirty Girl" do a roaring trade servicing these outcasts. Some hostel websites have dedicated disclaimers saying sex tourists will be ejected on discovery.

Mariola felt strongly about this. She saw scores of old white men patrolling the streets alone, or with a young woman 20 years their junior on their arm. Not speaking because they don't understand the same language. They would be in bars, hanging out in packs. Waiting to see what was brought to them or what they could find. It was uncomfortable to see the effect of it on women. It was universal. We saw it in hostel bars, streets, high end hotels, sky bars, restaurants. Everywhere the phenomenon held true. The escort business truly thriving.

Why do they do it? It's a way out. A hope for a better life. Catch a man, you might just get a visa out of here. People struggle with low wages, only a few $USD a month here and life is hard. It's easy to scrutinise. Feel judgmental. Feel uncomfortable even with what's around you & perhaps you can be of the tourists coming here to take advantage. The poor girls trying to find a way out? Not so much. Is it something we feel morally superior about from a European viewpoint? What do we want? For it to stop? For it to be regulated? Maybe nothing; but it sure sucks to see it and not be able to help these girls.

As we settled into our Hostel, The Big Easy, we were in for one of our less luxury stints. Thiis place advertises itself on a fun vibe and $5 a night dorms. We'd gone for the private room, because that was $10 a night for 2 of us, but this place wasn't quite what we'd had in Am Lam. Bugs. Leaking Bathroom. Stains. The works. We were probably a cockroach away from jacking it in and fleeing to the nearest chain hotel, but we stuck it out. It was only a couple days. We settled in for the night; Mariola safely tucked inside her "I am not touching those sheets" bed spread that she'd packed for such emergencies and peacefully went to sleep.

The next day we were being picked up to head to Silk Island; a local spot specialising in spinning and weaving. Cambodia has a thriving textile industry, it's one of the 2 largest employment sectors in the country and the quality of their work is second to none. Silk farming itself  is a quick process, the cocoons taking about 30 days to get from larva to a spinnable form, then these women (they're almost always women weavers) can knock up the finest silk scarf you've seen for $20.

It's fascinating to see this little worm. The silk trade, so important to shaping the old world via the eponymous Silk Roads, had an incredible impact. How can this tiny thing, worm, be so responsible for the shape of the modern globe's history language, culture, trade, the migration of people and language? It's humbling to see them and feel a little piece of that history. How it can be shaped by something so small

Davuth our guide for the day sped us off to his boat in a rickety old Tuk Tuk & told us about the area. We were sailing down the Mekong delta, the 12th largest river in the world. It snakes its way through China, Myanmar, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, picking up all of their plastic waste on its way, making it one of the most polluted rivers in the world.

It still feeds a huge population, Cambodia in particular being dependent on river fish (and rice) for the bulk of people's protein and basic diet. The pollution doesn't stop these fish tasting great, or from being disconcertingly large. Some of the Catfish and Stingrays are north of 290kg.  If a 290kg fish came near me, I don't think he'd be the one who was dinner that night.

Buddhism dominates here. Stupas tower over the landscape, towering over schools, markets and farms. The ashes of each family watch from the Stupa looking out over cannonball and bodhi trees, sacred for being those Lord Buddha was born and died under. Buddhism is pervasive here and the country still feels profoundly religious compared to areas around it. Buddhist robes, orange to depict the rising sun and rebirth, are everywehre even in a modern city like Phnom Penh. Here in the Silk Island, they felt even more common. It's weird reconciling when the UK is so secular, how important religion is here still but it's an integral seam in the fabric of society here.

We returned from Silk Island and were caught up in a cataclysmic rainstorm. Like, biblical. There were security guards posted outside ATMs to stop people taking shelter there. We had to huddle under a passable shelter made up of a tree and a concrete block next to a highway crossroads while desperately hailing tuk tuks to take us somewhere, anywhere dry. Which turned out, of course, to be a mall. Waiting out the storms we eventually made it to Marugame Udon, a japanese cheap (but delilcious) noodle place, scoffed down some butter ramen miso and combo sets before returning to our hostel to steel ourselves for the next day. We'd be visiting the sites of the Cambodian Genocide.

Cambodia's recent history is turbulent and hopeless. It's numbers defy belief. After being secretly and illegaly bombed during the Vietnam war by the US army to slow down Vietnamese supply lines, one in eight Cambodians were murdered during the Khmer Rouge regime. As many as 2 million people. Close to 1/250 Cambodians is missing a limb due to the land mines left across the roads, hills and fields. Phnom Penh's total population collapsed when the Khmer Rouge purged all cities  to build their false Agrarian paradise as cities were emptied. People were bussed around the country to fulfil farming quotas, or taken to killing fields & slaughtered if they were viewed in any way as lazy, foreign, educated, seditious, or related or tied to anyone who was.

Even now its legacy remains.  Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge officer who defected to the Vietnamese and was then elected Prime Minister is very widely viewed as effectively being corrupt and untoppleable in the country. He is currently serving his 6th term, routinely destroy opponents with violence and corruption and causes a deep sense of defeat and malaise in the ordinary people. Change feels hard.

We sat in David's noodles, munching on some Kvar Ko and Cha Kreung, a couple of delicious local meat and curry dishes. Later we were heading to two of the key sites of these atrocities. S21 prison, and Phnom Penh Killing Field. Accompanied by a young Irish couple Tom & Slita, effectively doing the same travel plans we were (but for longer) and Baboon, our guide.

"My mother survived because she knew how to weave baskets. They took her from her family and she had to work. She was 12 years old"

It's impossible not to find someone touched by the horrors of the genocide. Every Cambodian knows someone killed or disappeared. They refer to 1975-79 as "the darkness" and the liberation by the Vietnamese and the toppling of Pol Pot as 'Year 0". Enter S21 and you start to understand why.

The cell blocks have been left in original condition. There are photos on the wall capturing the last hurried, brutal executions. So carelessly cruel, the photos of the state the bodies were found in are displayed on the walls. The original bloodstains, still there. The cells defy belief in humanity.

Photographs capturing the sense of optimism in the initial liberation in "75 make things all the more heartbreaking. Children and adults can be seen smiling at the cars coming into town. Shortly these cars brought men with AK 47-s. Things changed. Educated Cambodians were invited back to help rebuild their country were immediately detained, processed and killed, perceived as a threat to the socialist designs of Pol Pot. The prison wards now display endless lines of faces of the victims of the prison. Picture after picture. Children as young as 5 or 6 included in the massacres because of some bad luck.

Families were invited in the 80's to come and identify remains and missing family members from these rows and rows of photographs. To document the scale of the killings, who had 'disappeared' and help find some closure. Baboon visibly seized up as he recounted the drive to bring families for identification. The emotional strains are unimaginable. Baboon recounts how his mother didn't even feel like she could go to find her husband, her children, anyone, because the pain was too much to bear. Who could blame her?

It makes your blood boil that this could happen and nothing was done to stop it. You rail against the unfairness of it all while you see the utterly hopeless depictions in paintings of what one of the 12 survivors of S21 saw while imprisoned. Horrific, barbaric, vivid. You scream inside. You ask how this could be allowed to happen. You remember Rwanda, Germany, China and now even Ukraine and how this keeps happening. Meeting the 2 survivors who wait for you at the exit doesn't bring you any closure. They'll show you scars, but not answers.

The Killing Fields is a monument & memorial to the dead. On the site of the vast majority of killings, where bodies were sprayed down with DDT to prevent neighbors smelling the remains, there is now a huge Stupa. Filled to the ceiling with skulls of victims, identifiable by the wounds they received it's a macabre sight. There are bone fragments visible on the floor. They rise to the surface when the rains come, floating up, a chunk of cheekbone, a piece of jaw. Sitting in the mud. Waiting to be found. Waiting to be remembered. Their memorial day each year falls on the 20th May. A date I will have no trouble remembering. It's my birthday. The killing Fields has a sombre respectful tone. Everyone should go see it.

Baboon told us more stories of his father. How he had to watch his younger brother be killed in front of him for stealing the rice they desperately needed to eat. It defies belief how a family can work explaining what destroyed them, talking day in day out of horrors that semblance of a happy life. Explaining it to a nobody like you, a stranger. With a calm face, and not with anger at the fact it all seemed to be just for nothing, that so many lost their lives. For what? For a failed experiment? How can you get past that tragedy, the trauma of it, just move on? To speak. To function. It seems unfathomable to me. Perhaps to anyone if you haven't experienced it. I probably never will understand it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Baboon. How he went about recounting the story of his country, his family with so much dignity and poise.

He still won't take his mother to that museum.

We left the Killing fields for the city. Picked up our laundry and thought, hell, we needed a stiff drink. We found a rooftop bar at the Rosewood hotel and tried to clear our heads with a couple of drinks and an incredible view. We tried to make sense. To process everything in our heads. Next to us was a sex tourist and his escort for the evening.

Cambodia breaks your heart.

Our final adrenaline fuelled morning saw everything that could be late, or wrong, be late or wrong. My inventory on my laundry bag from the previous evening turned up one set of shorts missing. I high tailed it over to the laundrette at opening for operation "rescue my only other pair of shorts" before we had to dash I'm the other direction to catch our bus to Phnom Penh. Stress levels not helped by the only Tuk Tuk driver in Phnom Penh who seemed to have less of an idea of where to go than us. Wrong turns, getting stuck in jams, and effectively adding 30 minutes and a bucket of undue worry to the journey. We eventually screamed "THIS IS FINE", jumped out in the middle of a frikking highway and sprinted to the bus terminal to make our bus. Phew

We'd remember Phnom Penh. It's hard to forget. But for now, we were moving on to Siem Reap.

[mariolandavid]

Saigon

I wasn't expecting much from Ho Chi Minh, the economic (not actual) capital of Vietnam.

Everywhere we went, folks back home told us that Hanoi was the gem, and that we shouldn't stay too long in Saigon as it was a chaotic, polluted city with not a lot to see.

Locals tell a different story however, and besides, I love chaos.

We flew into HCM airport from DaNang, and after some confusing guidance and exhasperated sighs, managed to got a Grab to our hotel/ hostel, City Backpackers Hostel.

The streets of HCM are packed full of motorbikes in every shape and size, street food carts, and endless shops. It's an absolute ordeal to cross the road, and due to it's massive spread but lack of metro, a bit tiresome to get around. Not much walking was possible.

Most of the time we more relied on our fave transport method: jumping on the back of a Grab bike, knuckles white as you gripped on to the handle bars for your life, sharp inhale when you realise how close you are to other riders and cars. All around you, neon lights flash brightly and brave citizens weave in between vehicles. For around 50p a ride, it's hard not to...

We didn't have much time in HCM. As an anniversary present I had bought us a stay at a river sidee resort for some rest, which effectively meant we had 1 full day in the city.

It was set to be a heavy one: we had booked a tour of the Cu chi tunnels, and would then be dropped off in the war museum as a Vietnam war double wammy. What a day.

So we should have some to bed early, but we decided to go to sample some beer from the brewery we had been hunting down since Kuala Lumpur: Heart of Darkness. The American inspired brewery did not disappoint, and it fit in well into our impression that HCM was a lot more 'Americanised'. We saw multiple American chains here, from coffee to clothes, which was a shock given we'd barely spotted them for weeks.

After pints and weaving through throngs of university students sitting and drinking on tiny stools under Saigon's small scale version of Notre Dame, 'we' decided to go to a pub to watch the Manchester United match. It wasn't a good game. And not only because of the drunk South Africans who heckled David for being the only person in the bar NOT watching the rugby, and berated him for focusing on Man U's terrible loss instead.

We semi-heeded our hostel host advice to not stay out until late in the eve of a busy day, and woke up semi fresh faced in the morning. David, like an angel, rushed out to get us some Banh Mih whilst I was getting ready. We scoffed these delights from heaven (and some canned ice coffee) as we piled onto the tour bus for the day, surrounded by other western tourists.

On the way to the Cu chi tunnels, our guide who was from the Mekong Delta, shared some stories about his upbringing. His name was Thu, which was a shorter version of the Vietnamese word for 'second'. His older brother was called Dau, or, 'first'. Growing up in the countryside, he told us how he'd lost a childhood friend to a landmide, which apparently continue to be an issue in the area we were headed towards. If I remember correctly, the district of Cuchi was one of the most heavily bombed during the Civil war.

He told us of the lack of electricity and facilities growing up, and regaled us with tales of what they ate, and what facilities they had to go to the bathroom. David's got some more details about it in his notes but I'm not sure it's blog material...

He also told us about the compulsory army service in Vietnam: Unless you have only one son, one of your male children will have to attend national service. Gun ownership in the country is quite common, although not strictly legal. Gulp.

After around 1 hour we arrived in the tunnels, a small section of the 250km long network. It's outstanding what the people from this region achieved: they dug tunnels multiple meters underground, each tunnel having different 'floors' for sleeping, cooking, guarding. All 250kms of these tunnels were connected, but had traps and secret passageways all throughout in case of intruders. Sections of these tunnels could be flooded, bombed, or gassed, and still the majority of the underground network would not be affected. These metres were not even 1.5x1.5m in size, and they've even been expanded now to accomodate for tourist tours and safety. Let me tell you, when you're down there and moving around, even if it's for 100 metres, you feel consistently on edge and uncomfortable. It's not easy to walk in these underground hallways, never mind living, cooking, and sleeping.

The Cuchi tunnels tour is well worth it: it brings to light the incredible ingenuity and camouflage skills of the people in the countryside, and you start to realise how much of a deathtrap these Vietnameese jungles really were for the Americans. We also got to try and shoot some Ak-47s, which was a memorable experience but not one I would try again or suggest you do.

As we clambered back onto the bus, all of us were feeling a bit emotional. The horrors of war and the lengths people go to both protect themselves and attack others were very plain to see, and once you're inside the oppresive tunnels and witness the scars left in the countryside from the poisonous gas and the land mines, it's hard to be in a cheery mood.

So of course we all decided to get dropped off at the War Memorial museum, a 4 floor building with all manner of American weapons and vehicles parked infront of it. Helicopters, boats, cars, guns, bombs... the whole lot. The tour group split up, but not before an American guy (who had spoken about guns at length (!) during the tunnels), insisted that we try Cambodian cheese baguettes, as they were some of the best food he'd had in SE Asia, and some of the best cheese of his life.I'm going to save you a google and let you know that there's really not much cheese being made in Cambodia. Like, at all...

The war museum is bleak. You think you're a tough hardass that doesn't cry, and you will be proved wrong. Whether it's the countless photos of the slaughtered villagers, the cold hard facts about the number of weapons, soldiers, and bombs deployed, or the photos and essays from those affected by agent orange.

It's intense. There's a map that shows you what order to experience the rooms in, and the disbelief and horror does not stop mounting. There's a point where your brain cannot take in more information, like your capacity for absorbing staggering statistics that we were never designed to compute, and at that point you an sit on one of the benches in the outdoor courtyard and get some air. It's relentless, and at many points you think you probably should leave, that there's no reason you need to be reading about and looking at pictures of senseless slaughter, but then you feel bad for feeling that way, so you press on.

It sucks and it's not anyone's idea of a good time, but I left having learnt a lot more about the war and the history of Vietnam from their point of view, so I'm glad we went. It reminded us of the museum at Hiroshima, which also leaves you feeling conflicted, and hopeless.

After a lot of aimless wondering to shake off the haunt, we ended up nabbing a place at famed Banh xeo 46, which was full to the gills. It's a compromise between a street food stall and a restaurant, completely packed with locals who easily handle the overflowing basket of herbs with one hand whilst pouring themselves an ice cold beer with the other. I, famously a seafood hater, ordered the Bun thit nuong, and David tried the famous prawn crepe that Bourdain himself had applauded.

Next morning, after check out, we tried Op La, the deconstructed version of Banh Mi. It was alright, probably the closest they have to an English breakfast, but I'm probably going to stick to the original from now on.

A nail appointment, a riverside lunch in cafe RuNam, and a WhatsApp welcome from our private butler later, we'd arrived in Am Lam resort. Maximum instagram goals.

For our last evening in Ho Chi Minh, our last day in Vietnam, we reminisced whilst having dinner in the resort. The lush riverside setting made us look back on our time in Borneo, and reflect upon our journey. Our last days in Vietnam coincided with our first full month travelling, and we celebrated by jumping into the beautiful pool during an intense thunderstorm. After the heaviness of the day before, laughing and doing something for the thrill of it felt great. The water is always warmer than you think. A month in, and we had already done so much, but there was so much yet to discover...

Ask us now, and Vietnam is one of our favourite countries so far. From a cruise weaving around a natural marvel, to the wind through our hair when speeding down the hai van pass, to memorable food tours where we tasted some of the best and freshest food of the trip... it's an undeniable country. You can feel how protective they are of their nation the moment you step foot in it, and it doesn't surprise you when you learn how much they have endured. This nation of rice paddies, tiny stools, fans, and cold beer. This nation of motorbikes, ancestor worship, and provincial rivalry. Of delicate paper lamps and crispy banh mi.

We loved Vietnam. You will too.

[mariolandavid]

Da Nang

We rolled into Da Nang on a hot summer day. The air was still, dead, no breeze to be found. We almost missed the place we were staying, hidden as it was on an unassuming back alley street off the main road but in the end, we were that desperate for a shower we could have smelled water better than a thirsty camel.

The VernalHome Boutique Villa was our next stop off. This was one of the "fancy schmancy" stops on the route. Not price wise, this place was £30 a night, but for that we got a princely suite with huge bath tub, shower, King bed, a kitchenette, a balcony and a downstairs pool. We thought there must have been a rat or a dead body somewhere. Nah son, clean.

So a quick dip, a laundry round trip and a decompress later, we contemplated what to do with our day, turned to one another and said "well it is our anniversary". Yep, it was 6 years since we'd met. 6 years since the Tinder gods had decided to match the Spaniard who'd been back in the UK a couple weeks with the guy who was at some Athletics tournament at the London Stadium because they got within 1km of each other (such is love). We've never questioned that role of fate, and we fly the Tinder success flag now.

And what says success more than KFC?

Sure we had TRIED to book a nice place. We'd seen a few fancy restaurants. Sent out some emails and found them to be booked, or to be a bit stuffy, or to not be the kind of cooking we're into (sorry French fine dining). So we just thought we'd do right by us. Crispy. Fried. Deliciousness.

It was a fun night! After the chicken we wandered the streets and found a craft beer bar, Section 30. In London, this place would have had a 3 month wait list. It had a funky outdoor spot, a DJ playing banger after banger and all sorts of craft beers. We had a chat with one of the managers, "Man".

"My dad called me Man because he had 2 ex girlfriends with the same name without telling my mum"  was the bold opener when we asked about her unusual name. That hadn't stopped her at the age of 15 from getting absolutely plastered with her dad fairly routinely while they blasted through Karaoke hits until the small hours. Like we've noticed before, the Vietnamese like to drink. Know how to party. She was a beer fan, knew her shit. Knew all about local breweries and the big guys in Saigon, had learnt it all from her boss and now was on the up, trying to work up the industry.

Whenever we have these conversations with people, it always ends up coming back round to them asking us "So how long are you here?", when we say what we're doing, how lucky we are, how long it's for. There's joy, and a quiet sadness in the eyes of the people we tell. "I would love to see another country, but it's hard for us, I have never been abroad... I'd love to see snow one day". This small desire, a little wish not fulfilled, maybe it never will be, it breaks your heart. You're no better than these guys, you were just born in a better postcode. They work as hard, almost definitely harder. They've got the graft, they're speaking to you in their second language. How's that fair? How can you stream through the world without a care while they dream of a snowflake. Life can suck. It makes you think.

I got a text from an old friend "you're in Da Nang?? You gotta go to Funky Donkey, it's karaoke night". She'd lived here for a year and she was an old colleague. French. Worked in finance. Nose for a party. She'd ended up trapped in Vietnam for 2 years during Covid and knew this bit like the back of her hand, so we trusted the recommendation. The Funky Donkey is an un-assuming cool bar. You can drink, you can play Fifa, pool and petanque. It's got a backpacker vibe, with cool old crap French movie posters plastering the walls. It's effortlessly cool. Romain the owner greeted us with open arms and gave us the triple french kiss. What felt like half his close family did too, his wife, his mother, unidentified cool french smoker. They all said hi and went back to their game of petanque as we got a beer and awkwardly edged towards the Karaoke machine.

I need at least a 0.6% blood alcohol level to get close to a microphone. Some of these Vietnamese guys and girls were treating it like singing in the shower. Effortless. Shameless. Earnest crooning as if no one in the world was watching to gentle wavy haired Vietnamese pubescent boy bands. Karaoke in Asia is another level without any of the hang-ups we have in the West. It's a good time, they all love it, and no one's ashamed. Takes some getting used to.

I believe some shame is a good thing. Giving up your seat on a bus; good shame. Apologising, leaving and never returning when the waiter hands tries to hand you the menu and you reach out to shake his hand instead; good shame. Apologising for British colonialism; good shame. Shame can make you do nice things; and stop you being a dick. Some people are resilient to shame.  Take the American guy who came up and did A$AP Rocky without really taking the last 100 years of civil rights into account. Or opening a lyrics page on google once in a while. My ears bled. Probably some African Americans fists would have bled pounding the guy if any had been here. Shame can be a good thing sometimes.. Like here. Feel more shame.

The next American, a girl this time, threw what I said above out the window as she flawlessly blared out Nicki Minaj and Baby Got back, word for word, no beat skipped back to back. Breaking the ice and warming the room. The stones on her. She bigged up the girl following her, a nice sweet lady wanting to sing something soulful to bring up Avril Lavigne. It sprung Mariola into action "Can I do it with you??" - like that, we were in.

4 more beers and a round of Mambo No. 5 later I'd been circling the internet and it was probably (definitely) time to go. We spent a little longer watching the girl following us up take over smoothly with what we assumed was a Vietnamese classic croon, oddly while she was facetiming her mum on the phone while she was doing the song, and then called it a night.

What followed in Da Nang was the theme park double header. There's a company here called Sunworld who run not one, but two resorts here in Da Nang. Now we'd done a lot of things that I wanted to do on this trip. Traipsed around historic sights, cookery classes, war museums. Don't get me wrong, Mariola likes those things too, but sometimes, you just got to do something for the other person because you know how happy it's gonna make them. I say this as if I wasn't having a great time too, but if you see Mariola go to a theme park, it's like seeing a kid get an ice cream. Made of puppies. On Christmas. Before they're given a laser beam. That shoots dinsoaurs. Yeah... she likes theme parks.

The whole rest of the next day had a glorious anticipation to it. We had a good time. Some amazing, probably actually some of the best, fresh pastries and filter coffee I have ever had, in Factory 43 Roastery while we wrote up some short stories (side project) in this industrial warehouse cafe. A walk down the, mostly empty, beach on our way to get lunch at Bep Cuon Da Nang

Vietnamese food is fresh. Outrageously so. It feels like everything you eat was pulled screaming from the ground or freshly killed and sliced about 5 seconds before it ends up in your mouth. Our lunch was no real exception, with the summer rolls and the Ban Xeo being worldbeating as usual. Though I went a bit left field with my rice Congee and the "Tre" salad. Tre salad involves taking the ear, nose, skin and belly of the pig and shredding it all into a delicious offaly salad. Essential to some of the festivals of central Vietnam, it was probably the only time I'll ever describe those animal parts as tasting fresh and zesty because of the combinations of fresh herbs, citrus and vegetables that came with them. These guys here know some juju.

Asia Park was a short Grab-bike away (an experience that you build yourself up to.. it takes a while to brave motorbikes in Asia, even if you ain't driving) and here we were. Stood before that vaulted ceiling of amusements. It was empty. Eerily so. The place was blaring out music, pumped like a huge show was coming. But no one bought the ticket. We soldiered on through anyway because that meant one thing. No queues.

Blazing a path through every ride in sequential terminator like efficient order, we'd soon made light work of the various zones. Singapore, China, India, Cambodia and Japan zones all fell to our relentless pressing for fun. We conquered alpine coasters, metal mountains and spiralling corkscrews. Pirate boats and whirling waltzers. This theme park was ours. We might never experience a ride on our own again like we did here, taking the two front seats and setting off without waiting a second. The only guys on the coaster. What a thrill.

Several hours of fun (and only some mild dizziness / nausea later) we'd exhausted the place of new rides and turned in to dust off the kitchenette with some instant noodles and turned in for the night.

Day two of the double header brought up Ba Na hills. A place you kinda gotta see to believe. The back story. This was the hill residence of the French officer controlling the central Vietname region. They built it up here to escape the heat. They dug their win cellars into the cliffs to get the exact right temperature for that Chateauneuf-du-Pape to remind them of home.

What better way to honour that memory then to build a scaled down representation of Parisian glory at its finest, complete with Notre Dame, medieval town and castle at an elevation higher than Ben Nevis?

"I don't think people will come to a resort park that high up?

"No problem, we'll just build a cable car."

"Resort's all fine and good, but it's kinda just something interesting to see right? Not enough for a whole day?"

"Hmm you're right. Tell you what, we'll build a German beer tent, two alpine coasters, 4D experience room and an arcade."

"I'm still not sold."

"How about I throw in a giant bridge held up by enormous ancient looking stone hands?"

"Take my money. Take me now."

Therein you understand that Ba Na is a little expression of joyful insanity. It doesn't try to make sense. It's a compressed blue pill of what Asian's think Europe is and was. It throws in joyful innocent fun you only get in a kids theme park. It creates a feeling of a lost world in those hands, that you rediscover first here, then in yourself. It's quite the creation. And you don't even really have to walk to get here. A cab. Our particular cab being one where only sexy tunes were played (George Michael, Marvin Gaye, Tom Jones etc. etc.) - that's another draw, that'll get them in.

Then what? A cable car. Now anyone can do it. Anyone can come. The fact anyone could come, even began to vex Mariola by the end, the lack of darwinism had not weeded out those weak enough to not go full throttle on the Alpine coaster. Maybe it was just the hangover of the anger she'd already felt at her own mistake. Turns out, in a coffee shop it's very easy to mistake a pitcher of pure concentrated sugar syrup, for a pitcher of water and drink the whole thing... honest mistake, we've all done it. You can sure as hell damn those weaker mortals going slow on a coaster though. Dared to use brakes? Not worthy of my contempt. She would have spat on them without the guidance of shame. See, shame is good.

We spent an entire day here. It was some of the most fun we'd had on the whole trip and utterly different to the tempple hopping and cultural stops. On such a long trip, you've got to vary things up to avoid a bit of a slump in cultural blindness. When does one temple merge into the next? Never when the day before you were blasting a zombie sherrif on your mechanised buckaroo in Ba Na hills.

Maybe there's a moral in that somewhere, or maybe that's just the kids playground that is Da Nang.. we were sad to leave. Our hotel did us a great solid sorting out our ride to leave and explaining in Vietnamese the difficult journey to find the damn hotel before we started the, frankly bafflingly short, journey to the airport. We were there in 15 minutes.. Next stop.. Saigon.

[mariolandavid]

Hoi An

Multiple people we'd spoken to named Hoi An as their favourite place they'd visited in Vietnam. It makes sense - this small trading port, part of the Silk Road, has had centuries of Japanese and Chinese influence, which it wears proudly on its sleeve. The buildings in the old town are all painted a specific colour of yellow, all protected by the government, all with beautiful, glossy wood interiors. At night, the paper lanterns and the traditional boats in the river look like they've been plucked out of a Disney movie. There are no harsh streetlights here: there's candles, the soft glow of older gas lamps, the flickering signs of bars and restaurants. Even the irish pubs and the sports bars have hung up their own colourful paper lanterns, and at night cleaners sweet the cobbled walkways to ensure Hoi An wakes up pretty and intact.

It is a must visit destination for both foreign tourists, and Vietnamese nationals, who all spill out into the streets at night. In the morning, visitors get measured up in one of the thousand tailor shops, or grab a bike and explore the rice fields and mountains surrounding this city, taking in a water buffalo or two.

It rained a lot of the time we were in Hoi An, which we knew might be a possibility due to us visiting at the peak of rainy season. So we spent quite a lot of our time huddling in dark wood coffee shops, all of them based in traditional shop houses which did not have glass windows or AC. All open, but covered, which made reading or typing up a blog post a very relaxing affair, with the only background music being the sound of the rain against the cobbled floors and old buildings. We later learned that Hoi An is subject to ferocious storms and severe flooding, which luckily we managed to miss. This was perfect for us, as our first port of call was Banh Mi Phuong, famously featured in Anthony Bourdain's show.

It was as good as they said it would be. Apparently, Banh Mih was really originated and perfected in Hoi An, so if this was the best place in town, it was by extension, the best in the country. Ordering it was a feat: the counter was mobbed with people, with 6 ladies making the sandwiches, taking your order, and giving you change all at once. The menu, on the wall, had around 10 varieties of the famous sandwich, and despite there being a couple of tables at the back, the thing to do is to take it away and stroll around the old town. So that's what we did, me with a BBQ one, David with a pork one, snaking around the tiny streets and admiring the beautiful tailoring shop fronts, a faint melody of a man with a guitar from a bar just far away enough to not be able to place it. The colourful laterns reflecting on the shimmering water, which holds dozens of small tourist boats, like a little mini Venice.

It was all romantic until we got to a sports bar. I've grown up with football and don't mind watching it with people, and dating an Englishman I knew I was going to have to watch it in random seedy places, drinking most probably western beers, surrounded by men. And that's what happened then - we walked into an irish bar and went straight to the bar before the Man U match kicked off. And luck would have it (you did get this spoiled before!) that our friend Lebo was there, who we'd met up with in Hanoi. He and his partner and their friends were already sat on a table, first row, a couple of pints deep, so of course we had to join.

Even more friends showed up in Hoi An: the group of boys who'd been admonished by telling fake stories of Kalimocho were there, as well as a group of lads from Stockport. I'd say I'm quite a chatty person and find it quite easy to strike up a conversation with anyone I might have a small thing in common with, so we spent quite some time comparing growing up in the North stories.

Quite hungry at 9.30pm, and crestfallen due to Man U's defeat, we searched for somewhere to have dinner in that catered to vegans and not vegans alike. Most places were shut down (they have dinner early), but a lady took pity on us and sat us on a covered terrace table in her restaurant, which served only Cao Lau. This dish is central Vietnam's answer to Pho, which is apparently more of a Hanoi thing, and it was delicious. Whenever you eat anything surrounded by friends, after seeking refuge from the rain, whatever you end up having tastes 10 times better.

We'd been recommended the 'Morning Glory' restaurant by a few friends that had been to Hoi An, and we got into the one by the night market for dinner. It was worth the hype: we ate stingray summer rolls, pork fried rice, and a Hoi An special, white rose dumplings. It was great to try a more 'refined' dinner after eating mostly street food, and the icing on the cake was when the waiter told David that he'd rolled his stingray rolls really well. I super recommend the 'Morning Glory Signature' restaurant if you make it to Hoi An: it's got a gorgeous terrace overlooking the river, and it serves delicious Vietnamese food, with a modern edge but still keeping all the essentials. The owner had published her own cooking book, which we will be ordering when we're back home, and she turned out to be a successful celebrity chef, with more than 4 locations in the area.

To keep it classy, in the evening of our second day, when it'd been raining most of the time and we'd enjoyed a delicious meal, we went to the Mr. Bean bar. It wasn't great, with early 2000's music, neon lights, and Heineken beer, but there were posters of Mr. Bean everywhere and David got to buy a tshirt. It was a surreal experience, a clear tourist trap, but a fun night nonetheless.

The next day, we got picked up from the hotel/hostel we were staying in, Backhome. It was some decent accomodation, a nice 10 min walk to the old town, with free breakfast. No lift though, which is always painful when you have 16 kg backpacks on you. And are on the fourth floor... From our hostel we were taken to meet our host, Quin, for the day: we had booked a basket boat and cooking class experience for half a day, which I would also recommend people do. In the central market we were taken around a dozen different stalls, each of us clutching a colourful bamboo basket, getting taught how to differentiate between the different types of Basil or Chilis, and given a few teasers of what we would be cooking later on in the day.

When we got to the basket boats, it started to rain, but that did not deter the basket boat rowers, who took us all around the river. These boats, looking like half a coconut, had been used traditionally to fish and catch crabs, but now they were mostly a touristic 'must do' experience. In a procession of boats, with tourists huddled under umbrellas, the rowers sing, spin the boats, and rock them from side to side. All around you little screeches and laughter as folks hold on to dear life. It isn't only a thrill ride however: the rowers teach you how they used to make fishing rods out of bamboo, and you even get a speed crab catching class. We were able to catch two river crabs, small creatures that are lured with a tiny prawn on a stick, and released them before hopping off the boat to start our cooking class.

We first began by making our base Pho broth, and letting it simmer for the next 2 hours as we prepared and ate the following dishes. In between the cooking demonstrations, we learnt how rice was milled, and how it was 'squeezed' to create the starchy liquid that then forms rice paper. They really make the most out of rice here: noodles, paper, dumplings, and of course, standard and delicious rice.

The menu included summer rolls with pork and vegerables, rice and prawn crepes, seafood and vegetable noodles, and a delicious beef pho. It was a very satisfying experience realising how quickly a lot of these dishes can come together, and together with the dipping sauces, realising how balanced and delicate Vietnamese food really is. We had a blast with the cooking class and it exceeded our expectations: folks were joking around, we all had an apron and a hat, and you were overseen and supported by a professional chef. We left the experience full, and happy, and with a printed version of everything we'd made with the exact recipes so we could recreate it at home. Win/win.

For our last half day in Hoi An, we'd booked a walking tour of the old city. We'd stomped around it enough, but given the non-stop rain, we hadn't really had the chance to learn more about its history. The tour was ran by a university student, and it was us and a couple from Singapore being led around today. She showed us the water mark from the city's worse flood, and told us about any renovations or changes in the old town need to be approved by something like a historical society. We also went to the Japanese bridge, a landmark of the city and a beautifuly preserved structure. This wooden bridge was built to communicate the Chinese part and the Japanese part of the city, as trade began to grow and the two groups realised that it was more prosperous if they collaborated. And who would we find in that bridge but the Spanish couple from Badajoz! Still dressed like they were in Safari (yes there's mosquitos, but just spray on repellent and wear normal clothes, it's entirely too warm and humid for long sleeve and big bags), they'd done a very similar route to us. In fact, we even the French family in our cruise in Ninh Binh, so the Hanoi - Ho Chinh Mi route stopping at Hoi An is clearly very common. After we said our goodbyes we moved on to a Chinese temple - out of all the places we'd been to in Vietnam so far (and would go), Hoi An definitely had the most outside influence, which was a fun change when we recalled that there are no Chinatowns in Hanoi as all the chinese inmigrants fled during the war. Our last stop was an old shophouse that had been transformed into a museum of sorts: it housed reconstructions of how Vietnamese people farmed, slept, dressed, and travelled during the older times, and you could also see a collection of clothes and jewelery. We were glad to learn more about the city, especially as we hadn't been able to really enjoy it with the rain. If you can ride a bike, I do recommend you rent it and ride to the beach and to the rice fields around the town, which are said to be gorgeous.

Last but not least, history was made in Hoi An. After dinner one day, we popped into 7/11 were David spied a spicy Taiyaki ice cream, and decided to rate and review the experience on his Instagram Stories. If you follow him on Insta, you'll know that from them on, his weird snack reviews have not slowed down. What a moment.

[mariolandavid]

Hai Van Pass

Morning broke. The sounds of a chunky V8 engine carrying a huge metal frame, roared, spluttered & thundered into earshot, pierced the daybreak. "My names Bi... but you can call me Bumblebee" said the driver with a cheerful boyish grin. Parking up the retired Army Jeep, now converted into a retro transport solution for people wanting to head over to Hoi An Rambo style,  the engine quietened and the stereo could be hear playing The Eagles now that the fiery V8 was sleeping. We took in the envious glances of every passer by as we hopped on the back.

This was gonna be fun.

The Hai Van pass is the popular seaside winding road made famous by Top Gear (at least for Brits). *Jeremy Clarkson Voice* may be the best coastal road drive.... in the world. You can travel it in a number of ways, the most popular is to rent a scooter and drive across it yourself, taking in the vast ocean landscape as you scale the winding roads up and down a soaring cliff road. then back down again, sweeping along the coast circling Da Nang. You'll never want to settle for the M25 again.

Instead of the scooter route though (neither of us has been up to the bravery required to give them a go, given the fear of ending up with some kind of injury that'd spoil the 6 month trip) we got the bad-ass version. Loading up into a surplus US Army jeep retrofitted to pump out tunes and loaded with cold beers into the cooler box in the back. Why the hell would you wanna travel any other way?

" My friend and me used to smoke a lot of weed,  one day he just called me bumble because of how I got after and that name sorta stuck" said our driver for the day Bumblebee. This guy deserves some kinda commendation in life. He's been through the mill, seen his demons up close and come out again fighting.

His family had been "re-educated" by the Viet Cong following the fall of Saigon and the end of the war.; losing them for years at a time when he was growing up. COVID, not the easiest time for anyone hit Bumbleebee hard. He lost his father to a motorbike accident, fell into a deep gambling addiction that caused his wife to throw him out of the family home and away from his young son and fell into deep depression. He told us he thought of ending it all at times, only his son, who he loves dearly, talking about him non-stop, stopped him from taking that dark twisted turn.

Now Bumbleebee doesn't gamble. He works 4 jobs to put his kid through school. He's a driver, a security guard, a delivery guy. A hero. You're a bigger man than me B.

Tearing through the streets, back roads, following the path of lakes and streams & trying to take in all the huts and shrines; we pulled up on our first stop of the day, the Ghost City.

Imagine an eastern spiritual take on Keeping up with the Jones's. Your neighbour here, let's call him Jay. He's worked hard. Saved up. He's thinking of retirement. What does Jay wanna do with his hard earned life's work. Beach house? Building that den in the basement with his own bar? Maybe that little cabin he's had bookmarked in that catalogue under the living room reading lamp all these year.

None of those. Jay wants to build his own Pyramid of Giza to mark his journey to the afterlife.

The City of Ghosts is a vast complex of private family tombs. Tombs used for 1-2 days a year, glistening with broken chinese porcelain art, with Hindu, Buddhist and Christian relicery. Tombs worth up to $5m USD for miles and miles. No one in this town works anymore. They don't have to. It's filled with guys who made their fortune overseas or have cash cows living in the States, Europe or elsewhere funelling cash back home. They live in this semi-live state. Among graves and finery, building their own tombs in advance before waiting amongst them for the big day. It's a real insight into human obsession with death and legacy but most of all, it's a monument to vanity and envy. Gotta build a bigger tomb than Brian says Jay to himself. He spent $4m, mines gotta have 8 towers now. It's a strange old place and not one I think I liked. I preferred the odd huts we kept passing that when I asked, turned out to be "mushroom huts" where the locals can temp control grow any fungi they wish, magic or not

"You know there's 65 million Scooters in Vietnam"? says Bee as we parted them like the red sea in the Jeep. Sending them flying away from us seemingly by negative magnetic force. There's 100 million people in Vietnam, it's kinda crazy how Scooters dominate the place. We asked a place to watch the Premier League's opening game later that night "I got a bar for you... my Pussycat works there" as he wrote down the details of the Shamrock bar Hoi An for us. Bee had a recommendation, a story, a guy he knew at every turn.

"Top.. you emailed my boss man! He's the big boss".. Top was the owner of the company who ran the Jeep tours, he moved to the US, owns 2 hotels and 5 ex-Army Jeeps. He paints with his spare time and likely bankrolls 3-4 tombs in the Ghost City.

It was fun just to talk to Bee as we drove. The scenes themselves were incredible, speeding past Vietnam's biggest lake, taking in herds of Water Buffalo grazing in the grass and absorbing vast fields of Oyster Farms, we made our second stop. The local swimming hole.

Here we were told all about the COVID embezzlement scams that ran rife in Vietnam and were only just being prosecuted (the details are here and are really scandalous examples of corruption at every level of government). We scaled some rocks, threw down a picnic blanket and jumped into a clear stream, swimming aronud in the sunshine without a care in the world for 30 minutes before hopping out to get some lunch at a nearby seaside shack.

Bee at this point (unsurprisingly given his high energy levels combined with the fact he worked a billion jobs and never seemed to sleep) went for a nap. We ordered some lunch and took in a common sight in east Asia, but one that nevertheless takes some real getting used to. The local lunchtime karaoke slot.

Get the image out of your head of your late night trips down to Lucky Voice and Rowan's. The karaoke here isn't confined to dark corners and fuelled with secret shame. These guys live and breathe the stuff like a national passtime. An 8 strong group of octegenarians had their favourite table. Out of nowhere a crate of Huda beer appears, followed by a kid wheeing out a full size, top spec Karaoke machine. One solitary mic, the equivalent of the Lord of the Flies Conch is passed round. Earnestly, each diner sings their turn while the others at their table sit as if nothing's happening.

The earnest nature of what's happening. The sheer lack of any shame or self consciousness is just something to behold. This is serious crooning. Hell it's at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon in broad daylight in a beach shack. I've never dreamed of doing karaoke in that kind of fiery hellzone. These guys have some cojones. There's stories of houses kkicking off proceedings in the Karoke at 9am and not stopping til 24 hours later. Bumblee had a family in his village who'd had to have their power cut off to just stop them damn singing. To say Karaoke's a national obsession doesn't quite capture it.

Makes it hard to nap though... Sorry Bee.

This brought us post lunch to the main event. The big coastal drive. It's a stunning drive. The only thing I've ever done that touches Big Sur on the American west coast. The ride up is punctuated by verdant greens, as jungle and forest surrounds one side of the car, while the other opens on to a vast endless ocean.

You climb higher and higher, snaking, twisting and turning up and up the pointed mountain with scooters and trucks haring past. The view never recedes. Never lets up. It only widens or changes scene to something else breathtaking. Cliffs, rocks, private military beaches without a soul on them. Everything pristine and sublime. I wish I could have driven it myself, the thrill would have just been incredible.

That feeling quickly receded as I opened a beer in the back of the Jeep. "Yeah no actually, being driven open top here is kinda better".. Stops for photos for us, became photo opportunities for everyone else. Excited kids and grown ups piling up next to the Jeep hoping to get photos themselves. We were happy to oblige, feeling like the most popular guys on the mountain.

"See you tomorrow" was Bee's favourite joke as he constantly faux threatened to leave at every opportunity we left to go to a bathroom, swimming hole or photo spot. I guess it was endearing. It kept us guessing if we'd ever actually just be abandoned with a long way down to come, but eventually we started the descent. Flying through the air with Da Nang and Hoi An in sight from our eagle eyed vantage point, we slithered down the mountain roads into Da Nang, one of the larger cities in Vietnam that we'd be returning to in a few days.

Rising up in this city, amidst sky scrapers, resorts and beaches are the famous Marble Mountains. A Buddhist monastery carved into the marble rocks in the middle of town provides an amazing sight to see in a beach town. It's made for old timers who can't handle a few steps. Hell there's a lift up to the top if you just don't care for your Fitbit yelling at you for your laziness at all.

All around the bottom are stone carvers and hawkers, flogging anything they can to people wanting their souvenir marble. It's worth pointing out that it's been illegal to sell marble quarried from the Marble mountains themselves since the mid 90's... so either these guys are getting it from somewhere a little less local... or sales have been real slow.

We pulled up to the final stop, our hostel in Hoi An, the Backhome Hostel. The ATM I'd chosen to get the cash out for this trip had only had 50,000 Dong notes available. I needed to go about 4 rounds with this machine to get the several Million we needed to pay and had something a small drug-lord on a Baltimore corner would have considered a decent day's take popping out of my pocket in small bills. Bee laughed as he had to count it all, but I'm a trustworthy guy so all cool and we said our goodbyes, gave him a tip for himself given the amazing day he'd given us and settled down into our new place. Welcome to Hoi An

You can find their tour here

[mariolandavid]

Hue

One thing you might not be surprised to learn is that David takes notes wherever we go to make it easier to then write up these blog posts. It's helpful but also a weird post-modern lens when you're living your life both in the present and in the future, looking back. A bit of a mindfuck, but anyway, we were in Hue for 2 nights at the start of August. We are now finishing up the month so I'm kinda grateful for his notes....

The overnight train from Ninh Binh to Hue was great, if you were proper prepared. We’d brought snacks, had wet wipes to wash ourselves, and used the bathroom minimally. Even though I’d booked us a 2 berth room to ensure we had a decent night sleep, I still needed an eye mask and sleeping pills to get to sleep. The bed was comfortable enough, but the train was rattling quite a bit and the street lamps outside hit you right in the face. You could control the AC, so it was not crazy cold, and overall it was quite a fun experience. It was the first time I had a sleeping berth in a train, and given we each had a big bed and plenty of storage, and it’s probably spoiled me for any other sleeping trains I’ll have to take in the future!

We descended from the night train feeling oddly refreshed, and as usual, were accosted by tens of drivers outside the station. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but this 'taxi, taxi, taxi!' 'where you going madam' 'sir where are you from' situation stresses me out horribly and puts me in a foul mood. So we marched on foot with our backpacks about 10 mins away from the station and called a Grab. It started absolutely tipping it down whilst we were waiting for the taxi, because Karma I guess.

We stayed at the New world Hotel which I would recommend if you stay in Hue. It's in the more 'modern' district, with walking distance of all the bars and restaurants, and it's ran by a helpful woman who seemingly also employs her children in reception. It also has an odd indoor pool in the middle of reception, and terraces that are behind windows. A bizzare fun place.

The previous day David had somehow ripped his bathing suit, and his first port of call was to go and get them repaired. I was in charge of laundry. There were incredible coffee shops up and down the street - shoutout to The Coffee House which was amazing - and I was sipping on some iced Vietnamese milk coffee when David burst in with the biggest smile. The tailor shop he'd gone to for advice about what to do offered to repair them for free! Crisis avoided - there was no emergency shopping trip required.

For lunch we went to Madan Thu's , a popular spot for tourists to introduce them to Central Vietnamese food. It was worth the hype, and it got us trying the shrimp rice cakes (more like dumplings), and the pork and vermicelli noodle dish that a lot of us associate with Vietnam. It sounds insane when you say your favourite thing about Vietnam is the food, but if you copy our route and travel north to south and pay attention, you will realise that every region has it's own specialties (and their own beer!) as well as their little rivalries with their neighbours.

We decided to visit Hue as it was the ancient capital of Vietnam, but actually it turned out to be one of our favourite stops. There are around 7 universities in Hue, and it was full of young people and interesting bars, and like all great cities, has a lovely river (Perfume river, on account of how, in the autumn there were once flowers from the orchards upriver which would fall into the water and give the river a beautiful aroma) and multiple pedestrian only streets.

In one of those streets we ended up with our tour guide after a delicious food tour. As we'd read up that central Vietnam had a different food culture, and we'd enjoyed our tour in Hanoi so much, we decided to bite the bullet and book a food tour on AirBnb. It did not disappoint! We were taken to 5 different places, got a chance to walk around the town and get a feel for it, and ended with Bun Bo, Hue's answer to Pho. I gotta say - it's very very good! so good in fact, that in the rest of the country they call the dish 'Bun Bo Hue'. In the tour, it was us two and a very intense Swiss-German girl who was travelling alone and a bit stressed at the never ending planning and booking of things when you're travelling. She wanted to know details about our planning and research process, and wanted to be as 'true' and as 'local' as possible. She also said at some point that cheese fondue was not a heavy meal at all, and had very few calories. I know I'm not an authority on cheese, but that doesn't sound right....

One of the things that I've felt since arriving in Vietnam, and hearing everyone saying they prefer Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh city, is wondering if us westeners just want south-asian countries to become 'under-developed' so we can enjoy them for little money and feel fulfilled, or come away from it with a 'life changing experience'. It seems that we reject that locals could very much want McDonalds, and air conditioned malls, and iPhones, and only want to experience the rice fields, the conical hats, the most obscure of noodle shops. I'm not saying I'm not guilty of this too, but sometimes it feels like we're 'forcing' a tradition that might not even be observed by the actual, real people who live in that country.

The tour guide was gracious with our (my) food intollerances, which is tough when Hue is known for shellfish and you.. don't really eat it. I did try some shrimp dumplings and some little clam noodles though, which I count as a roaring success in my life - but I'm fine carrying on without it. The tour guide told us that the concubines of the emperor would have to cook a dish each, and whichever dish he liked, would be his woman for the night. Story says that he tasted up to 36 unique dishes once, the cuisine of Hue is that varied. Madness. The tour guide, who had photography as a hobby, had set up his own tour company and spent lockdown buying up competing businesses to expand his empire once things re-opened. An absolute legend, Hoa took a liking to David (Hoa was 32 at the end of the day), and said he'd found a friend once the tour was over and he'd dragged us to a 'Hong-Kong inspired' bar. This bar made me nostalgic for my time in real HK, but as a fan of drinking in the street 'al fresco' and enjoying some music, I also knew I was going to remember Hue forever. Everytime you ordered beer they topped up the ice bucket, as the heat meant that beer got warm fast and the cold ice slowed down that process. Importantly, it also watered down the drink and meant you could drink for longer periods of time. The main drink of choice was Huda beer, which is made in Hue, and folks around us ordered crates upon crates of the stuff, getting progressively louder as the night went on. Hoa paid for absolutely everything that night, whispered to David that I was a mixture of "Western and Spanish" and was a "good woman", and downed every drink at lightning speed.

How do you say cheers in Vietnam? It goes 1, 2, 3, Yo! Or, how they say it, "Mo, Hai, Ba, YO!

We'd booked a full day Hue historical city tour the next day with an 8am pickup, which perhaps wasn't the best idea. We were the only non-Vietnamese people in this tour at the start, which meant the guide went on very long explanations about the Imperial city in Vietnamese, and then retold us an abridged version in broken English. It wasn't the best tour in the world but a fun experience nonetheless, and we got to see and learn more about Vietnam's last few kings and understand more about the influence of the French and the tensions that led to the French Indochine war. In this tour we also got some more information about the different religions in Vietnam: mostly they pray to their ancestors and kings (only some kings though! For the last king of Vietnam there is no worshipping temple and no adorned tomb), but there are a number of minority religions such as Christianity (mostly in the south due to French and American influence), Islam, Hindu (both of these from the Cham people, who occupied south Vietnam before they were conquered), and Buddhist. Hue in fact, had a large Buddhist population, and in this tour we got to visit a beautiful pagoda and temple overlooking the lake. We even got to witness a ceremony, and walking around discovered that in this temple was the mummified(preserved?) heart and the car of Thich Quang Duc, the buddhist monk who self-immolated in Saigon in 1963 to protest the treatment of his fellow buddhists. Google it, the photo will definitely be one you have seen before and one that wont leave you.

We finished up the tour with some pork rice paper rolls, and a couple of beautiful tombs that the kings ordered to be built before they passed. Invariably, the kings passed away before the tombs were finished, but these were beautiful buildings, often set in lush gardens with a water feature following feng-shui. The last tomb we saw was of the second-to-last king, and it was a real jewel, literally. Gold and beautiful jems decorated this tomb, which is built high up in a mountain and made up of black stone. It's an impressive building, which cost so much money to construct that the french had to raise taxes on the population to build it, since this king had very good mates in Paris. Not too surprising that Vietnamese people at the time resented this man...

Before going home and packing, we visited a 'conical hat village', which was the standard touristic stop to make you purchase something after a day of being shuttled from one place to the other. We didn't buy anything, but we did enjoy the Instagrammers using the beautiful dyed incense and bamboo for their photoshoots. Dinner was snakehead fish and pork belly from Chan, and we were ready to say bye to Hue before embarking on a great Jeep adventure - the Hai Van Pass…

[mariolandavid]

Ninh Binh

Every good story starts with a guy accidentally ordering a kilo of fish. It's a fact of life and why should this one be any different?

Via quite a circuitous route back to Hanoi from Ha Long bay, plus an obligatory wait for 2 hours in Highlands coffee (at this point if you stuck me I'd bleed Vietnamese black coffee out of my track marks), we made our way to the van taking us to Ninh Binh.

This was pretty routine. Turn up, sit in an empty room with big pictures of vietnamese tourist attractions up around you while some guy sits with his feet up in a chair, kind of watching you, kinda doing his own thing. He might be the van driver, he might be his brother. All you know really is that you're in the place the ticket guy told you to go to and eventually someone might tap you on the shoulder and tell you to get in a van, but in a consenting way.

When they decided they were ready (stuff doesn't run 'on time') they packed us up into the "limousine", aptly described given the pimped out disco light ceiling & leather recliners. The driver then seemed to remember he hadn't locked his door, or took some methamphetamines because boy did he tear into the accelrator for the next 45 minutes. Google Maps thought the trip should be 1 hour 30. This guy almost halved that. If we hadn't been watching Clarkson's Farm & had actually looked out the window, chances are we would have neem asking God for forgiveness for our sins, but you know, we got some time back and Vietnam only has 10x the fatal traffic incidents the UK does, so who's worried? Not me.

When we got to Ninh Binh city, we discovered a place less multi cultural than Hanoi or Ha Long bay and less easily navigated by the two bumbling foreigners who don't speak Vietnamese. We rocked up to the nearest place Google told us was half decent before looking through a cryptic menu that gave no clue to anything and had strange sub-clauses to every price.

I attempted ordering a beer, a specific guy even came over to accept my beer order. I then told another girl I thought was taking our food order. No beer appeared. I began to wonder if we'd ordered anything. Turned out, when speaking to a third person, no, no we had not. What she could also confirm to us, via the medium of speaking into our phone on translate, was that what we had tried to order, was unusual.

"You have chosen an entire chicken a kilo or grouperfish and 2 kilos of rice. Are you sure?" - we were not sure. It became apparent that this particular restaurant only serves food by weight, or in entire animal form. Essentially you couldn't order less than a kilo of anything. We thanked the kind lady, cancelled the chicken and stuck to our fish kilo. It arrived with its own ceramic warming station complete with tealight candles. A tasty soy gnger and soy marinaded grouper, it went perfectly with the simple steamed rice and the whole meal was pretty pleasant once we got past the confusion. Google Translate team, we owe you.

After that, we took a taxi to a place "near" where we were staying (but wasn't) before finally arriving at the Banana Tree after some map reading. The slick looking guy behind the desk greeted us, schmoozed, keenly made sure we had put down or deposits for everything and tried to sell us a private driver for the next day (checking Grab... we could halve the price he was quoting) we hit up the bar for the night because there's a pretty fun one attached to the Banana Tree.

We were greeted again by a cavalcade of Spanish voices. Mariola, dragged us over to the table where 9 girls & guys from all corners of her homeland were, brought together by the We Road app. A service that pairs random strangers together into big group tour excursions, a way to adventure and meet people. Pretty cool find if you want to join a big group & they were a pretty interesting crowd, among them was even a travelling magician (despite asking, no tricks performed that night.. lame..). After a few drinks, people started to drift off, so so did we.

Day broke and we were ready to head to Trang An, the sublimely picturesque waterway traversing through caves, islands and pagodas in the carved out rugged landscape of Vietnam's north. You have to wait for a boat of 4 to go anywhere, so we were paired up with a couple of Vietnamese girls. We were pleasantly surprised that here, we were kinda in the minority. There were a bucketload of Vietnamese tourists here all enjoying their own scenery and doing their own thing, and it was really refreshing. We didn't just hear European tongues wafting back and forth, we really liked it.

Our Kind Vietnamese boat companions for the day had umbrellas ready at the slightest hint of a photon. They really did not want to see sunlight with vampiric passion.  Nothing was going to spoil that pristine skin with a tan. This might seem weird to western points of view, who want that bronzed look above all else, but is fairly normal in East Asia, where a pale complexion is a sign of elegance and status. A tan is a sign you're a farm worker.

Now you might think when I mention sun, that means it was a pleasant day. A bit of time on a boat in the sunshine? Wow, sounds wonderful. Well if you were to get a boat down the river styx and enter the hellmouth past Cerberus' maw it would likely reach similar temperatures. If Dante's inferno has less than 82% humidity in 40 degree heat, he's missing a trick. It was oppressive.

Accuweather, as we slowly began to asphyxiate from lack of air, said it was only "quite hot"... I'd now like to go to the Accuweather offices. I'd like to lock their thermostat to 40 degrees. I'd like to close all the windows and perhaps leave a lot of wet towels on their radiators. To see how many of their employees describe the environment as just ' quite hot' while they dissolve into pools.

We serenely continued down these waterways, propelled masterfully by our old Vietnamese lady captain (who had arms like tree trunks). We sailed past the movie set for Kong: Skull island, and we stopped so the two vietnamese girls could take a scenic photo with.... Mariola (turns out tall Western girls are more interesting than nature). After this we had the obligatory run in with the Spanish girls and rounded the trip off, serenly spotting out deer and pagodas as we cruised back.

Trang An is wonderful. It was amazing coming out of Ha Long bay that we didn't get inertia to this kind of beauty. The landscape was phenomenal, you just can't find this somewhere else. The beauty of paddling through soaring cliffs with pagoda left and right is breathtaking. I've never seen a place like this before. Everything is green, the water, the cliffs, even the sky has a green blue hue. It's a world away from the blues & greys of Scandinavia or the UK you might get from kayaking. It's stunning.

After a shower (you need to average at least two a day here, the sweat is maddening) we wolfed down some Nem Lui lemongrass, outrageously fresh pork skewers served on lemongrass & overheard and called out some bullshit from the group of possibly 7000 Irish lads claiming that the "Basque Leader" had decided to invent the famous drink Calimocho because he'd ordered too much bad wine. This is, a literal red rag to a bull to a hot blooded Spaniard like Mariola, only too quick to want to tell him NO YOU ARE WRONG, THAT IS NOT CORRECT (here is the correct story for those interested) But later on, we were fuelled to scale the Mua Cave walk. A "reasonable" climb to a breathtaking viewpoint surrounded by a natural caves system. However when a 'reasonable' climb combs in 80% humidity, it is like attempting that 'reasonable climb' while being waterboarded with a kettle.

Even cool names like Tiger Cave couldn't distract you on the way up. At least not until the distinct lack of health and safety at the top sharpened you into survival mode as you were invited to straddle, duck and weave around and hop over a stone dragon perched precariously on top of a mountain. Most of the dragon was spikes and it was lain on top of a particularly sharp rock formation. But what's the nanny state ever done to protect anyone really? When we were 5 we all split our skulls on mountain dragons and we turned out just fine!

Obligatorily meeting the Spanish girls on the way up, and down it was time for dinner. We went to a little place a bit away from the main strip and tucked into some cashed chicken and goat soup with burned rice as we watched an increasingly drunk Vietnamese friend group push the boundaries of how many times the drunk boyfriend can playkick his girlfriend before she smashed his brains in, then time for bed.  At least I would have liked to have gone to bed, I was distracted by the odd new smell that two English girls had brought with them into the room. A weird odour, as if their two mountain warehouse backpacks had been stuffed with sweating ham.. I thought it was just me until every other dorm bed was talking about this ham smell come morning... girls.. please leave the ham at home.

Our final day in Ninh Binh started with the hypnotic ritual of watching our vietnamese drip coffee ooze delicious nectar into the sweet condensed milk below, while we watched the rain come down... as finally the heat had broken and the rains came... It meant we could break out the card games at last as we whiled down the hours to our 11pm train to Hue.

As well as killing time, they were a nice distraction from those last minute travel stresses, me ripping my swim shorts on the door... which REALLY pissed me off. Mariola losing her airpods and then arguing tooth and nail with the hostel housekeeping staff. She adamantly knew she had left them in the bed and that they would be in the laundry pile & do not argue with this girl when she's assured. Two members of staff and a lot of ignoring later, they were rescued with a flourish and a death stare. We needed some card games.. Hell it got to the point where mariola just threw in the towel, found a woman in the street and hopped on the back of a motorbike to get a massage. Stress does terrible things.

As we sat down for dinner before the end of our downtime day, I was helpfully greeted with the message "Oh I think that's where the duck that gave me food poisoning was" as we were halfway through our roast duck... Hoping to survive the night, we headed out to the train station, only the two hours early... into a completely empty train station that we were only convinced wasn't closed because of three helpful staff members who said, yup... you're just super early. We facetimed our friends whose honeymoon is going to be in Vietnam, waited out the 2 hours and then hit up the night train... next stop... Hue!