Hoi An and Hue

The sleeper bus turned out to be no problem, while my next destination, Hoi An, turned out to be a cute little place. My time there included the viewing of a pretty amateur and unintentionally amusing musical performance. Overall though there was little to entertain me for more than twenty-four hours in Hoi An, and I quickly moved on.

Unfortunately, the attractions of my next location, Hue, were even less appealing. Once you've been to Angkor in Cambodia, most other historical attractions wane in comparison. I have spent two days here, but maybe I should have left yesterday. The only redeeming feature about my time here was that I very surprisingly bumped into Kirsty from Pai! Other than that, I've been using my spare time here to finish off The Da Vinci Code - an absolutely memorising read which I think I'm gonna flick through again. Maybe in Hanoi I'll exchange it for a new book.

From Ho Chi Minh City to Nha Trang

Friday involved a trip to the Cu Chi tunnels, a sample of the underground tunnels used by the Vietcong in the Vietnam war. This was quite a good trip; the booby traps on display were interesting and I also got to fire a few live bullets from a real M16 machine gun! It was powerful and very loud!

Early on we approached the entrance to one of the (supposedly genuine) tunnels. The hole in the ground entrance was absolutely tiny and it didn't look possible that a grown adult could enter it. Moments later, a tourist popped out of it, followed by another. It was a very tight squeeze, but nevertheless I intended to go in. A few people dropped through the hole before me, just squeezing in, although the large American before me just stuck in the hole. I had a sudden desire to play 'Whack A Mole', but opted against it.

Once the American climbed out, I dropped down the narrow hole myself. Stupidly, it was only once I had crawled a couple of feet that it hit me that it would be pitch black! As I slowly felt my way forward and round a bend, it was impossible to see where to go. I could hear the voices of some of my group members ahead of me and I was able to follow their voices. Meanwhile it was impossible to know if I was wading through leaves, mud or insects. At one point I appeared to place my hand through what felt like a large spiders web.

Suddenly I noticed that the voices ahead of me had totally gone, and so I called them. There was no response. I called again but they were gone, totally baffling me.

As I carried on crawling, something fairly large seemed to flutter past me. Then I placed my hand on something flat on the wall, triggering lots more fluttering; large flying insects I presumed. A voice from a fellow tourist soon came from behind me - "They're probably bats"!. Despite the frequent fluttering I continued to try and feel the way, but all I felt was wall. Somehow I appeared to have hit a dead end. By now a little bit of light was flashing around and a tourist appeared behind me. I told her it was a dead end and so borrowed her torch. It revealed a bat hanging upside down immediately next to my face, and another few flying about. I had somehow missed a turning and crawled straight into a mini bat tunnel! Just a few feet behind me there had been a left turning, and the exit! We were not many feet below ground, but even the voices of the tourists above ground had been completely shut out.

That evening I bought my open ticket bus ticket which granted me multiple stops in Vietnam until I reached Hanoi in the far north. The following day, therefore, I caught a bus to the first stop, Mui Ne. Here I met Swedes Martin and Jennifer.

On Sunday we each took a motorbike taxi to the White Sand Dunes. The sand dunes were huge, and we were able to rent a plastic sheet to ride them. Riding down the dunes is hard; you have to lay right down in order to spread out your body weight, and lift up the front of the sheet to stop any sand weighing you down.

After a couple of test rides, we trekked to the highest, steepest peak we could find. By the time we got there we were exhausted; climbing sand dunes is extremely tiring, and it was very hot. Once my energy had returned however, I ran towards the hill, jumped, and slid down. While I hadn't quite mastered the technique I started to really pick up speed towards the bottom. After climbing back up the hill again, however, I was too exhausted to face doing it again.

That night was spent in a bar with Martin and Jennifer and included a game of pool with some Vietnamese. The following day involved a bus ride to the next beach; Nha Trang. My time in Nha Trang has largely involved relaxing on the beach, watching TV or reading the brilliant Da Vinci Code (The Lord Of The Rings trilogy was finished in Mui Ne). Tuesday was a very late night. I met a Dane called Alex and a couple of Russians guys he had met, and by the end of the surreal night we ended up on the beach until sunrise surrounded by lots of early rising Vietnamese.

Time is short in Vietnam though; Its a large country but I still have many more places to go before my flight from Singapore in May. Today I will experience my very first sleeper bus, an experience with I've heard mixed reviews about.

Arrival in Vietnam

On Wednesday morning it took a combination of three different moto drivers to get me across the Vietnamese border to Ha Tien. I knew that the border crossing was one of the lesser used crossings for travellers, but I was surprised at just how remote it actually was. No buses went there, and the quality of the road emphasised why. However, it was the nature of Ha Tien which really surprised me. Never before have I felt so alien; not in the island village of Don Kho, or in the most north-easterly regions of Thailand, or anywhere. There was barely another white face to be seen, and precious little English in use either.

I had no intentions to stay in Ha Tien for more that twenty-four hours, and therefore enquired at a hotel about the bus to Ho Chi Minh city. I could either go at eight that evening, or wait until eight in the morning. I was tired and didn't want to be lumbered with my belongings all day, so I chose to book into the hotel. After a bit of relaxing I re-emerged to book my bus ticket. The details of this proved difficult due to the language barrier, but finally a man at my hotel drove me to the station and helped me order my ticket.

My next task was to get some food. After a comedic conversation with a woman at my hotel, I found out how to say 'chicken & rice' in Vietnamese. Armed with my magic words I set out. The restaurants of Ha Tien, however, were very sparse. Furthermore, whenever I did manage to stumble upon an eatery and use my magic words (sometimes with a supplementary 'eating' motion) I was always informed that there was no food served, only drinks. It took about thirty minutes of wandering until I finally found a place with cutlery on the tables. "Gom gau" I enquired. "Gom gau? Yes, gom gau!" came the response to my relief. I took my seat. Moments later a huge tub of rice was revealed to me from behind the counter. "Gom?" came the enthusiastic question. "Yes!" came the happy and hungry response.

And then my food arrived. The 'gom' (rice) looked fine. The other various monstrosities on my rice did not. Upon my bed of rice were various shapes, colours and textures like I have never seen before. Whether they had been baked, harvested or slaughtered I could not tell. Furthermore, attempting to discover the 'gau', the chicken, was a game I wasn't looking forward to playing. There were a couple of strips, however, that possibly looked chicken-like, and so I tried some. I then realised that the strips were more bread like and quite bland. After that I was at a loss, yet fairly confident that none of my food had actually ever touched a chicken, especially the huge black growths and the little red bubbly ball. I opted to sample the reddish orange circular slimy thing with the seed type things. I tasted just a slither of it before shuddering and taking a huge gulp of my Sprite. It was very sour. From then on I whimpered out, choosing just to neck the grains of rice which hadn't been tarnished by the juices of the evils in my bowl.

Later that evening I briefly used the downstairs internet before realising that I hadn't yet looked at my bus ticket. Upon inspection I became slightly worried. I was expecting to leave at eight in the morning, but the numbers '20:00' were on the ticket. After another scan I noticed the date on the ticket - today's date. Through misunderstanding most probably, the man at my guesthouse had ordered me the wrong ticket. I looked at the current time and it was 18:30. I had little time left, and I fully expected much of that to be spent trying to communicate the problem with the hotel staff.

The conversation was a struggle, but luckily a man from the neighbouring hotel came to help. His English was good, but he informed me that it would cost a fair bit to change my ticket, but also that my hotel would not refund me if I didn't use the room that night. I therefore decided to just cut my losses and take the bus that night. Luckily a nearby restaurant had opened so I was able to eat - and to my surprise they even had an English language menu and some beef and rice that looked like beef and rice!

Before long I was nodding in and out of a light sleep on my night bus to Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. This journey also involved the bus driving onto a ship which sailed over the river!

Upon arrival in Ho Chi Minh City it was 4am. There were many hotels and guesthouses around, but the main doors were not open. However, there were a few bars still open, and when I walked past one bar-restaurant I was invited in. They informed me it would be open all night, and so I ordered some food and drink and stayed there until the daylight of 6am. Watching the day begin and the early morning joggers canter past seemed surreal from my ever drooping eyes. However, once I dragged myself up I was able to wade through a selection of hotels, choose one, and finish off my nights sleep.

Today, therefore, I have explored the streets of motorbike frenzy Ho Chi Minh City, and visited the Vietnam War Museum, which was good. Tomorrow morning I have a trip booked to the Cu Chi tunnels.

Kampot

The beach party in Sihanoukville was fun but blighted by lots of rain. Much of everyone's time was spent in the sea where it was warmest. When night time fell and it was time to board the boat once more, a nearby lightning storm appeared to move ever close. The boat to the island had been a very crowded affair, and the idea of boarding such a crowded boat in a return journey storm slightly unnerved me. The tubby Cambodian boat captain who had entertained us a week earlier was struggling to get the boat started, however, and by the time the boat was up and running the storm had glided past. Despite the boat again breaking down in the middle of the sea, we finally arrived back at Sihanoukville. That evening I said goodbye to my friends and prepared for the following day's journey.

On Saturday morning I made the short trip to Kampot. Having just left a good group of friends, and still reeling from the loss (or thievery?) of my new camera, I was yearning for some good fortune. Unfortunately it wasn't to be. On arrival at my guesthouse I was informed that the main attraction of Kampot, the Bokor Mountain, was closed. A hotel was being built there and the roads were only open for construction vehicles. However, I was not able to move on to Vietnam until my visa entry date; Wednesday.

Soon enough, however, a new plan emerged. There were whispers of volunteering opportunities in aiding Cambodian English lessons, but there was no clear information about it. A man who worked at my guesthouse informed me that a woman who was staying there was already involved, but she had gone for a day trip to Phnom Penh. After a day strolling around Kampot, however, I was subsequently corrected; she wasn't due back until the following day.

By midday on Sunday, however, the woman still hadn't appeared. The man at the guesthouse suggested maybe she would be back the following day. I therefore enjoyed a boat trip down the river, and spent the evening watching a film. Without my new camera I am now forced to use my old camera with the smashed screen. It's usable but I cant see what I'm doing or change any configurations. Using it also unfortunately reminds me of all the old pictures I have lost! As much as I would like a decent camera again, I no longer feel it to be wise to spends lots of money on something so easily lost, stolen or damaged.

Eventually Monday came, but there was still no sign of the woman. I therefore decided to take matters into my own hands. After a sequence of leads I managed to meet an organiser of the foundation. However, I was only able to now guarantee them one day of my time, and this wasn't enough to be allowed into the English lessons. I was, however, able to come along to a learning centre the following afternoon, but learning English was only one of it's aims.

So finally, after days of achieving little, I spent three hours at a Cambodian learning centre. Very quickly my ability to play guitar was exploited. Upon discovering my skill, the organiser unleashed a guitar from the back room. Minutes later I found myself surrounded by at least thirty children. As the glittering eyes all beamed down on me, I had no option but to fulfil there wants and serenade them with traditional English songs - and by traditional English songs I mean Radiohead, Oasis and Arctic Monkeys! The applause after each tune was rewarding.

During the second half of my time at the centre I aided three Cambodians with their English skills, simply by asking and answering questions from an English textbook. My time at the centre was fun, but maybe didn't warrant three days of waiting. Having said that, the waiting occupied my time as I waited for my Vietnam visa to become active. Tomorrow, therefore, my next border will be crossed.

Sihanoukville

How long I've been here, I don't know. All of sudden it doesn't feel like I'm travelling, but rather I feel like I'm on holiday. The pass week or so has involved pretty much the same routine each day.

1. Wake Up
2. Get a toastie and banana & chocolate milkshake from Monkey Republic.
3. Read some Lord Of The Rings
4. Find Louise, Leanne, Matt, Darren, James and Abbie at Sessions bar at the beach.
5. Inform Bucket the barman of any Leeds United news.
6. Eat, drink, relax and read the rest of the day away.
7. Eat some more.
8. Spend the evening at Sessions bar.

I have spent far more time here than any other location on my travels. It's the first time I haven't always had to plan what I would do for the day, or plan when I was leaving and where to go next. Occasionally there were slight variations to the day, such as the day we hired out the cinema room for six hours, but mostly the routine stayed the same. There was also the day I suddenly realised I didn't have my new camera! I have no idea where it could have gone, but it's gone! This has really annoyed me, I haven't taken it out of my bag since I came here!

Finally, however, it feels like I need to do some travelling again. Today we are doing a beach party again like on my first day, and tomorrow I leave in the morning for Kampot. By Wednesday I may be in Vietnam.

Arrival in Sihanoukville

Tuesday was a lazy day to let my legs and eyes rest from the early temple visits and late nights. Wednesday subsequently began with a very early start and a long bus journey down to Sihanoukville on the south coast. This was a lengthy but comfortable journey. It was largely problem free, other than the baby just behind me who decided to relieve himself on the bus. Frustratingly, it took the driver about half an hour until he angrily pulled up to let the mother relieve us all of the stench!

In the evening I checked in to Monkey Republic guesthouse. In the distance, for the very first time on my travels, the ocean was in sight. Beach life is commonly a huge part of travelling, so its incredible to think that this was my first sight of sand and sea.

Just moments after strolling onto the shore, I bumped into the crowd I had been spending Sunday night with in Siem Reap. I spent the remainder of the night with them, and subsequently joined them in the purchase of a beach party ticket for the following day.

Thursday, therefore, involved a midday boat ride to a nearby island for music, food and drinks. It wasn't long until I took the opportunity to enter the warm sea and take some further strides in learning how to swim - or more accurately, how not to drown. I enjoyed this far more than I expected (not least for it took me out of the blistering heat) and I spent much of my time paddling around in the ocean.

Time seemed to travel very fast on the island, and before long it was dark and we were boarding the boat again. Being one of the very last to board, I found that there were no seats left, but I had no quibbles with sitting on the floor in the isle between the wooden benches. Shortly after the boat set sail and the amps began to blurt out their loud dance music, a particularly lardy Cambodian boatman suddenly placed himself directly in front of me in the isle. With a huge and proud grin on his face he promptly began to sway from side to side and wave his arms about to the music. As I peered up at the man from my ants-eye view, he became increasingly energetic, gleefully dancing away at my feet.

Before long the man had a desire to take advantage of the entire isle, but unfortunately I was in his way. Under the assumption that I must be tired, he asked me if I would like to move into the front cabin where I could get some sleep. Not wanting to get in the way of a pot-bellied man and his dancing feet, I accepted and climbed into the front. It turns out that the fat dancer was the merry driver of the boat, but second in command was currently at the wheel. Unsure as to why I had suddenly entered the front cabin, the current driver asked me if I was looking to steer the boat. I said yes.

The journey back to shore, therefore, probably took slightly longer than it should have done. The fifty or so members of our boat were not only under the hypnosis of the captain and his wibbling belly, but were also at the mercy of Captain Alexander and whatever the ocean wished to throw at me. Other than being informed that there were rocks to the left, it was actually plain sailing, although much harder to go in a straight line than I would have expected. To make a turn seemed to require a huge spin of the wheel; It took about ten or fifteen rotations until any change in direction was noticeable. It then seemed impossible to work out how far you had to spin the wheel back in order to sail in a straight line. Despite being just a learner, however, we successfully snaked in the direction of the shore, and as we drew near the beach, the merry captain wisely put down his dancing shoes and donned his captain's hat once more.

Our day on the island seemed to have tired everyone out, and before long we had all gone back to our rooms to bed. The following morning, I woke up to find myself covered in bites. Unsure of whether they were mosquito bites, sand fly bites, or possibly even bed bugs, I decided to stay covered up for the day in the hope of not acquiring any more unnecessary itchiness. In the early evening I finally ventured down to the beach only to discover that my friends had also found themselves with dot-to-dot patterns down their arms and backs. This was actually a bit of relief to me, for it ruled out that my sleeping blanket could be ridden with bed bugs.

In the evening we went to a beach side bar. One notable thing about Sihanoukville, as in many tourist locations, are the beggars and sellers. An hour won't go passed without being offered numerous wristbands, flowers or fireworks from local adults and children. Sometimes a limbless mine victim will ask for money, or a mother will carry her sleeping child to you in the hope of a few Riel or Dollars. The sellers are persistent and annoying, while the beggars play on your guilt. It's impossible not to feel sorry for them, but there's little an individual tourist can do to effectively solve the problem.

At one point on Friday a little girl approached a group of three of us. As normal we would imply we were not interested and subsequently blank her out. This time was different, however; the girl didn't appear to be selling anything and didn't actually say anything. She was just standing there with a glazed look in her eye. We then noticed that she was crying, but she would not respond to anything we said. Nevertheless she just stood there looking silent, motionless and distant. I eventually found someone in the bar who spoke Cambodian who took the girl to the back and gave her some food. Other than that we failed to discover exactly what the situation had been, but apparently she was okay in the end.

Overall I am finding my time in Sihanoukville relaxing in the daytime and fun at night. It's probably partly because I once again have a group of friends, although as they've all known each other for a while I kind of feel like the extra guy who turns up now and again - but nevertheless we get on well. I think they are all intending to remain here lounging about in the sun for a few more days yet, after which they will head to Phnom Penh. At this point I will stay along the coast, possibly heading in the direction of Vietnam, or maybe briefly heading west beforehand.

Siem Reap

The last couple of days have certainly picked up again, and so have my spirits. The idea of not going to Vietnam now feels very distant. On Sunday I hired myself a moto driver for the day and spent many hours exploring the complex, spectacular and decorative temples of Angkor.

Angkor is commonly named as one of the best historical sights in the world, and it's easy to see why. In fact a one day ticket is commonly thought of as too short, and I therefore spent a few hours on Monday finishing off the temples I had missed. Having said that, I was beginning to feel a bit 'templed out' by then.

If Sunday and Monday daytime were a mirror image of each other, so were the evenings. On both nights I found myself ordering a steak and chips in Temple Bar, and by the time my food had arrived I was on a table full of people! There was one guy who was in Pai at a similar time to me and had met Axel! Another guy, who appeared perfectly normal and pleasant, is apparently travelling in an attempt to overcome his home addiction to organised football fighting in the colours of Chelsea - but speaking to him you would never have guessed!

The last few days have been a reminder to myself that I need to be able to relax when things are quiet! While on long sticky bus rides I can relax fine in the knowledge that I'm going somewhere, but on a normal quiet day it is sometimes difficult. Inevitably I will be alone and doing little sometimes, but these times balance out with the livelier moments. If I can learn to not feel like I need to be doing something all the time, I will have less low moments like I experienced recently.