Backtracking to Nha Trang with Images

Brian looking puzzled on the beach.

A quick excursion to a pagoda before bagging our bed on the beach. This is Quan Yin, my favourite lady goddess.

A wonderful monk who meditated serenely while burning himself to death in protest at the harsh treatment meted out to Buddhists by the Catholic President in 1963.

Shrine at the same pagoda.

Scenes from Hoi An

Brian cycling safely along the beach road, far away from the traffic we encountered on the roads around Hoi An.

Bringing up the rear, a few moments before I fell off (should have seen the thick sand on the road).

Working in the paddy fields - always something to do here.

No pot noodles for us - we like to make our own.

Skinned frogs, still alive, for sale at the market - eek!

Detail at a Chinese temple in the ancient quarter of Hoi An.

Just one of the many shops selling beautiful handmade lanterns.

Dragons in a Chinese temple courtyard.

A peaceful corner in a Chinese Assembly Hall.

Lovely detail on the roof of a Chinese heritage building.

View of ancient Hoi An from across the river.

Fruit for sale.

Decaying gracefully (a bit like me).



Colourful doors.

Impressive entrance.

I do like to be beside the seaside

After our genteel cultural and sporting activities in Hoi An, we were ready for some sloth time on a beach. We fancied upmarket Mui Nei on the south coast or Phu Quoc, an as yet unspoilt island near the Mekong Delta, but at short notice we couldn't find any accommodation in a flashpacker's price range, so we set off for Nha Trang, Viet Nam's number one seaside resort.

We arrived in Nha Trang shortly before the tail end of a typhoon which had blown across from the Philippines, and our first evening was spent marooned in the roof top bar (beer only 70p hurrah!). We were greatly impressed by the force of the storm which blasted the upholstery off the furniture and blew over the potted palm trees, and we had no intention of venturing out into the wild rain-sodden streets.

The storm had stopped the next day, but its trail of destruction was evident on the beach; small trees uprooted and washed up from nearby islands littered the six kilometres of sands, and the sea was the colour of the horribly strong Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk which is the local beverage of choice (tasting it once was enough to put us off for life).

No matter; six kilometres of beach was still enough to lay out a decent number of sunbeds and palm umbrellas, and although the sea was rough and full of debris we were perfectly content to lay by a beach-side pool where we could swim when the sun became too hot, and summon a waiter to bring beer and food when we needed sustenance.

This shameless arrangement suited us so well in fact that it became an almost daily pattern, until it was time to visit our final destination in Viet Nam; Ho Chi Minh City.

From Hanoi to Hoi An

Just a reshuffle of the same few letters, a short flight, and we're out of the noise and bustle of the capital Hanoi into the peace and charm of the ancient city of Hoi An.

Everyone told us we'd love Hoi An, and love it we did. UNESCO certainly knows how to pick its sites, and once again we were bowled over by beautiful old shuttered shophouses, their walls draped with bright pink bougainvillea, and their regulation World Heritage ochre paintwork gently fading and peeling in the bright sun.

Twenty five percent of the population in Hoi An is of Chinese heritage, which adds another bright bold influence to the architecture. We were thrilled with the assembly halls and temples with their huge and colourful mythical monsters, scary fierce bad guys, and comforting lady goddesses.

A huge river flows tranquilly below the old quarter, the sea is only four kilometres away, and good restaurants and livley bars are plentiful, so it's not hard to imagine why Hoi An is such a honeypot on the tourist trail.

Our first walk around the centre was by night, and we joined our fellow rubberneckers in the throng, delighted to wander round busy but quiet streets beautifully lit by a thousand colourful Chinese lanterns hanging from every shop front.

We were probably the only visitors to Hoi An this year who didn't take advantage of the many tailor shops which will expertly and quickly make anything you like for a very reasonable price. All around us people were ordering ball gowns, tuxedos, business suits - you name it, someone will make it - but with our weight increase over the last seven months we knew we wouldn't want to be seen in anything that would fit us!

We spent a lovely day on a Vietnamese cookery class (see what I mean? obsessed with food). We began by visiting an organic vegetable and herb farm for fresh produce, then shopped in an amazing local market that sold all sorts of fresh but undesirable ingredients including live frogs that were ready skinned and still hopping about (eeek!!). We were proud of our efforts; amongst other things we successfully prepared rice noodles, papaya and banana blossom salad with chicken and peanuts, and fish marinated in something fiery, wrapped in banana leaves and barbecued.

One of our fellow would-be chefs, an Australian guy who was clearly a stranger to the kitchen, tasted the food at every stage of the preparation, each time smacking his lips, patting his wife appreciatively and exclaiming "Yum!"

This caused the chef to erupt into gales of laughter, while his two gorgeous young lady assistants giggled uncontrollaby. Eventually the chef felt able to share with us that "Yum!" in Vietnamese means "Horny!"

Our proudest achievement in Hoi An was to brave the Vietnamese traffic and hire bicycles for the day. We rode to the beach via beautiful brighter-than- emerald rice paddy fields, which together with the long stretch of sea and sand looked wonderful in the clear light and bright sunshine. We returned along narrow roads through pretty fishing villages, and returned saddlesore but triumphant with no traffic injuries to report.

Posing on Paloma

Winter wasn't the best time of year to visit Halong Bay, four hours by minibus to the north east of Hanoi, but the iconic karst limestone rocks (yes, them again, this time sticking out of the sea) was a sight we wanted to see, so off we went.

After settling into our cabin aboard our luxury cruiser, the Paloma, we set off in our kayak to look around a fishing village where the local people lived in houses built out over the Bay.


Yes, kids, that's really me paddling the kayak!

This is our very posh boat, the Paloma, which we chose virtually at random. It was our great good fortune to have selected a craft which had only taken to the seas a week before our trip, and even better luck saw to it that we were upgraded into the best family cabin with its own private deck. Lying in bed at dawn, propped up on fluffy pillows enjoying the lovely scenery through our wrap- around windows, we didn't even mind that the sun never shone and we were denied a sunrise and sunset.

Still a pretty sight, sunshine or not.

Good Morning Viet Nam!

Our first taste of the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam was the crazy, raucous, overcrowded old quarter of the capital, Hanoi. The narrow streets teemed with people, motorbikes, cars, and minibuses , everyone shouted all the time, and those who had horns honked them constantly. It was exhausting just to walk to the nearby restaurants, dodging the traffic and the hundreds of people preparing, cooking and eating food while squatting on the pavement.

An endearing little bar in the old quarter, its name allegedly inspired by a Liverpool pub called "Half Man, Half Biscuit".

Me and Uncle Ho.

On a drizzly day in Hanoi, what could be better than visiting the impressive Ho Chi Minh Museum and absorbing a little bit of history about this recently war-ravaged country which is now successfully re-building its economy thanks to the vision of a great leader?

We were so pleased too that we took the trouble to file past Ho Chi Minh's embalmed body where he lies in state in his mausoleum (even though his last wish was for a simple burial). The experience was strangely moving, maybe due in part to the solemnity of the columns of mainly local people walking past and respectfully paying homage to this remarkable man. Armed soldiers directed the line of visitors - no talking, no touching each other, and especially no smiling; cameras to be left at the entrance.


Happy Brian with Hotei, the Happy Buddha.

Had to take a job for a few days to bring in a few readies to last us till payday.

The daily nightmare traffic scenario. Six million people live in Hanoi, and I swear everyone of them has a motor cycle. Where are they all going?

According to the guide books the French quarter is an area of leafy, tree-lined, wide boulevards, perfect for an enjoyable stroll. Hahaha. You can't get near the pavements for the scooters parked on them!

Don't know what this Sunday afternoon parade was about, but it made a colourful photo.

A pretty bridge in the centre of Hanoi.

Over the Hills and Far Away

The next part of our journey was truly a tongue-twister - Viv goes to Vientiane via Vang Vieng.

We left Luang Prabang on a VIP coach for the twelve hour journey to Vientiane, Laos' capital city, and were fortunate in being allocated the front seats upstairs on the bus.

The trip was a scenic roller coaster ride; up, up, into, and round and round the mountains for mile after mile. The villages of the ethnic tribes cling to the sides and into the folds of the hills, the thickly forested jungle rolls up and away to distant horizons, and it is not difficult to believe that tigers and wild elephants still roam those dark secret places where no man has ever trod. Traffic was heavy on the road, and our bus scattered smaller vehicles aside as we bumped and clattered our way along what is surely one of the finest road journeys in Indochina.

These mountains were surprisingly heavily populated; the roadsides were crowded with villagers unconcernedly living their lives, as always in Asia, out of doors. Hard-working women cooking, weaving, gathering fuel and crops; bare-bottomed children playing in the mud; hens, ducks, dogs, and pot-bellied pigs fussing over their broods; men smoking, chatting, and drinking coffee - everything more or less as it has been for generations.

The karst scenery was just breathtaking; even from the bus window we managed to grab a few photos that demonstrate its magnificence. From the roadside across to these awesome limestone escarpments huge swathes of strawberry blonde pampas grass swayed in the breeze, intermingled with green bamboo and brightly coloured wild flowers.


Even a blurred snap through a smeary bus window gives a hint of how good this scenery could be.

After seven hours on the bus we broke our journey by staying in Vang Vieng for a couple of days.

Vang Vieng, a pleasant enough town set beautifully on a river below more dramatic karst outcrops, is a magnet for hordes of young backpackers who spend their days tubing and kayaking on the river, and caving and climbing in the mountains, before partying loudly all night long in the many bars and clubs. The noise was not a problem - it was easy enough to escape the din simply by strolling along the riverbank and along the rural footpaths, or dip into one of the quieter outlying bars for a civilized drink.

Brian has an inexplicable and disturbing fascination with primitive barber shops.

Me, I just can't get enough Buddha images - I'm compelled to look at them all.

This is a pretty courtyard at the most ancient temple in Vientiane. We met up with Chris and Enrique again in Vientiane on December 31st, and spent another copule of days with them, happily celebrating the New Year, before we continued our travels in opposite directions.