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A server in Taiwan went down and now there is no email to be had in all of Hanoi. Loading this page has taken over thirty minutes now.

Aisha, Hasina, I sent you a text about phoning this morning. I guess you didn't get the message. I'm on antibiotics as of yesterday afternoon. Am going to leave Hanoi tomorrow night. Will try to find a cheaper phone and call you.

Where the dragon decends into the sea: Halong Bay

According to legend Halong Bay was created by a dragon that lived in the mountains. The dragon's flailing tail gouged out valleys as it plunged into the sea. The bay is a UNESCO site and it reminded me a little of Raileh beach in the South of Thailand.

Coming into town from Sapa on the overnight train I managed to burn my leg on the exhaust pipe of the motorbike taxi. It's rather chilly in Hanoi at 6am. I had two hours to kill before heading on a bus to Halong Bay. I watched the city wake up as the streets behind the glass window of my hotel filled up with thousands of motorbikes. Finally a minibus pulled up and the glass door opened to rush me off into the airconditioned tourist bus where I met 16 year old Emma and her dad. The two of us formed a little team along with her dad and another older Dutch couple.

The first night was spent on the boat in the bay. My roommate for the night was a very shy Korean girl who told me that her heart was pounding because this was the first time in her life that she shared a room with a foreigner. All I wanted to do was sleep but she was too excited to let the opportunity to chat with a Westerner in the bed next to her pass her by. I think I fell asleep mid-sentence.
The second day we said goodbye to most of the people on the boat. They were heading back to Hanoi after one night at Halong. The five of us headed to Cat Ba island where we hiked up a steep path to get a nice view over the rolling hills and the water on the island. The afternoon was spent kayaking and swimming on a deserted beach in the bay before sunset.
There's nothing to do on Cat Ba island other than browse the twenty or so pearl dealers on the main strip. Emma went nuts and bought six sets of earrings and necklaces. Her dad invited me to visit them in Brunei where they live. He then let her go out with me on our first night back in Hanoi....A drunk, shoeless Aussie-Vietnamese doctor delivered us to our hotel at 4am from the boat disco that night. Her dad had all sorts of horrible thoughts of his daughter being caught up in the human trafficking business that night. I did ask her if she had a curfew at the beginning of our little adventure. My invitation to visit Brunei has not been revoked. Phew.

Sapa and the Flower Hmong

For sure I was going to be able to get on a bus at 5am to head north to Sapa after arriving in Hanoi at 3am...well, not so. Ling from the Kangaroo Hotel was called to deal with the foreigners on the minibus from Vinh. We had no clue what was going on. The bus stopped and then everyone just sat there and waited. Ling let me know that getting on a bus at 5am was not really an option, so I followed her to the hotel and slept a few hours. Then I had that one day of sightseeing with Tom (I finally remembered his name) and in the evening I was off to Sapa on the train.

First off, it was effing cold up there. It was also foggy but thankfully it didn't rain. The first stop was Bac Ha Sunday market. All the Flower Hmong hilltribes women came out in their finest gear. Walking around in the market was like being in the middle of a rainbow. The colours were spectacular. Once we got off the bus I headed straight up the road and then followed the sound of pigs squealing. Behind the main market stalls was the livestock section which meant that there were pigs on leashes, dogs in cages and cats in baskets. I later opted for a vegetarian lunch at the market.

One of the most disturbing sights was a hilltribe woman being slapped around by a Vietnamese woman who had caught her stealing. I stood, I stared and a little boy took me by the hand and led me away. I don't think he was concerned about my wellbeing. My stop and stare habit was blocking his stall from all the other customers.

Jeremy provided some entertaining stories on our walk through one of the local villages in the afternoon. His parents were medics with the UN and he was born on a boat somewhere between Australia and Sri Lanka. His dad just got off a weekend shift in one of the camps and was pissed out of his mind watching a boxing match in the South of India. When his mom called him to let him know that he now was father to a son, his dad decided to name him after one of the boxers on the TV match. The man named his son after the loser in the match because he wanted a daughter and not a boy.

The hotel in Sapa was quite posh but freaking cold. I had to ask for two blankets to keep me warm throughout the night. The heater was under the bed and didn't kick in until late in the night. Getting up the next day to start walking through the rice fields was a bit of a challenge. I'd heard horror stories of slipping and sliding through mud from some of the other people at the hotel who went on the trek the Friday before. Luckily the weather cooperated and the mist lifted once we started walking through ricefields and along rivers.


The Black Hmong women kept us company on the trail and followed us around. The little girls were amazing. They had learned their English from tourists and were actually able to have proper conversations. One of the girls told me that she was going to be married when she was 15 years old. When I asked her to whom she said "I don't know. The boy chooses who to marry." The villages along the way were Red Dzao and Black Hmong and apparently intermarriage between the different tribes was common. Once a woman marries into the other tribe she changes the way she dresses to that of the new tribe.

Eventually I had to tell the young German couple on my trek that I spoke their language. They kept bickering and Vanessa (the German girl) had cramps of some sort, her boyfriend was totally unsupportive. He was not so impressed with my love of the Hoff and affinity for Modern Talking. Somehow the conversation shifted from the eighties hits of Germany to the people of Germany. Vanessa eloquently described them this way "We may be stupid but at least we're not fat." I think she was comparing the populations of Deutschland to the USA when she uttered those words.

Su Hee (the Korean girl in our group) managed to somehow walk through muddy fields and along riverbeds without getting her sparkling white runners soiled. She asked me if I was going to come to Korea at some point in my travels through Asia and I always feel so bad when I say no to Koreans because they are genuinely offended at my honest response, I lied. I said maybe. I should really consider it. I've met enough Koreans to keep me entertained for a very long time in Seoul. But it's cold there, so maybe not.

At the end of our trek I had Su Hee rubbing my cold, cold hands warm. Ki, our guide, took us to his home in the village and we had some tea with his sister. Going to the bathroom was the highlight of that experience. They had a picture of a naked Asian woman printed right into the tile. That really helped me pee.

I aim to inspire

As you may or may not know by now, I like to share bits of your emails online. Here's what Brian wrote me:

"Lastly, I was thinking of you the other day when, as I was channel flipping, I came across a 1 hour E! Hollywood special on "The Hoff". Spectacular. If only you had a fixed address, I would have sent it to you as a gift. In particular, it made me want to grow a white man's afro and put rogaine on my chest. Not to impress you, mind you, but just because. "

My Cheri Cheri Lady, Asia

I heard "Cheri Cheri Lady" in a taxi in Kabul and then in a disco in the Gobi desert and now in the hills of Vietnam I am listening to their first hit "You're my heart, you're my soul". Modern Talking was the singing sensation that swept through Germany like a tornado in the eighties. I think they predated the Hassselhoff phenomenon in der Heimat.

Dieter Bohlen went on to a somewhat successful solo career but he was nothing without Thomas Anders. He was rendered unconscious when he got his wiener caught between the toilet seat and the bowl in the late eighties. That's the last I heard of him. They have a good fan site. It seems that Herr Bohlen was the victim of an armed robbery just recently. Two ski-mask wearing criminals forced their way into his house and robbed the poor man of 60,000 Euros, jewellery and then took him to an ATM to drain his account.

If you want to see this German singing sensation in action click on Jeronimo's Cadillac or a live performance on German television of my favorite song Cheri Cheri Lady. They are now playing it at the hotel. I'm in heaven!

Karaoke by Hand in Hanoi

Hanoi is overwhelming after the quietness of Laos. I love it. There are motorbikes everywhere and it's loud. Reminds me of India without the heat and the "hello madame" being shouted after me.

Getting here involved a bus from Phonsavan across the border where we were asked about SARS by Vietnamese border officials. Seems they are still concerned about the virus being transmitted over the borders. Switched buses and arrived in Hanoi at 3am.

Today I had the pleasure of being taken around town by a former expat. He's Aussie and used to live here working in the forestry sector. This is his first time back and as you may have guessed, I don't remember/know his name. We go drinking in a little bit at a local tourist free bar before I get on the train to Sapa in the north. He walked me past a shop selling tombstones and among them was one with Britney Spears' picture on it. How can you not love a place that puts Britney on a tombstone?

Halong Bay was supposed to be hit by a typhoon today but apparently it changed course and now it's save to go there. I am going to be heading to the bay in the next couple of days before returning to Hanoi to look around some more.

FYI: Karaoke by hand is another way of saying rub & tug in this part of the world.

New Year's Resolution 2007

2005 was the year of attainable goals. I don't think I attained much that year and it is a bit of a hazy time.

2006 was the year of travel and adventure. Paul was right, 28 was one of the best year's of my life. It wasn't all peachy and there was plenty of pain, passing out and sleeping but there was also lots of laughter, new friends, plenty of Indiana Jones moments, discovery and wonder to be had. In short, I learned first hand that the world is a beautiful place, people are (mostly) kind and, although uncomfortable and sticky, humidity makes your skin look great.

Seeing as I am not getting any younger and my eggs are about to dry up if I don't put them to good use soon, I have decided that in 2007 I will give it my all to try and have a love child with my man, the Hoff.

Happy New Year's to you all!

Thanks to Honey for using his skills on this one.

Jars, Fakes and Bombs

They sell fake teeth and fake money at the market in Phonsavan. It was quite the sight seeing these two items side by side in a glass case.

Phonsavan is the springboard for a trip to the plain of jars. There are three sites to visit here and all of them contain, you've guessed it, jars. It's not known exactly what these containers were used for but the most acceptable theory is that they were used for funerary purposes. Once you've seen one of the sites it's really not necessary to trek to the other two but I'd paid ten bucks and did my tourist duty of taking pictures at each location.

The more interesting thing to look at for me was the landscape. It's barren and bomb craters dot the hills. The USA flew 580,344 missions over Laos between 1964 and 1973. This is the most bombed country in the world and the clearing projects are still in progress. It will take approximately 100 years to clear all the devices.


The story of the secret war reads like a horrific science fiction novel. Most of it seems completely unreal and made up but the hundreds of bombs I've encountered are evidence to the contrary. The path to site 3 of the jars is lined with markers indicating that the path has been cleared of unexploded ordnances (UXO) but stepping beyond it is not considered safe.


Today I hiked out to the old capital, a place that was completely abandoned until 1975. Once again, many bombed out and destroyed buildings. The town is being rebuilt from scratch, not a single old building remains.

I've had some good eats here and now it's off into Vietnam.

Vientiane

I turned around and walked straight out of the first guesthouse that I entered in Vientiane. Peter was just coming through the door, I muttered "maybe I'm wrong about this" to him before turning back around and walking into the lobby again. He gave me a slightly perplexed look but the couples magazines confirmed my suspicion. The girls hanging out on the couch were definitely not maids who clean the rooms. Chris was totally confused but Peter instantly saw what I meant. "No, I think you are right." The hourly room rates were a bit too steep for my budget.

Chris and I went straight for a 2 hour meditation session at Wat Sok Pa Luang, a forest monastery. The following day was spent taking in sights like Pha That Luang, Laos' most important national monument. It is believed that a piece of Buddha's breastbone is enshrined here.

Wat Si Saket was my favorite sight of the day. The oldest temple in Vientiane. This is the only one the Siamese did not destroy back in the 1800s. The temple contains 8000 Buddha sculptures and several beautiful murals. It's a very peaceful place to hang out for a while before heading back out to the city.

Patuxai was a close second to Wat Si Saket. Not because this Arc de Triomphe replica is extraordinarily special but because the Lao government used cement provided to them by the Americans for the construction of an airport to build the thing. It's called 'the vertical runway' by expats. The sign here reads "from a closer distance it appears even less impressive, like a concrete monster".


The Buddha Park at Xieng Khuan was definitely worth the rickety 40 minute ride out of town.

The best part of the Vientiane experience by far was hanging out with Lulu's parents, auntie and cousin. We went for a lovely lunch floating on a houseboat on the Mekong river.


Auntie told me a few stories about buying mangoes for Tuc and falling off her bike. "Tuc very lucky" she would say "so many people do things for her. I tell her she lucky." Everytime Mrs. P did something she would turn to me and say "same Tuc Tic". Come to think of it, they are a lot alike. It didn't take more than a few minutes before Mrs. P had bought a couple of tops at the market and then another few minutes before she was wearing one of them.

Donkey Sausage

Okay, so I get some pretty intersting emails from y'all but sometimes I really have to think about how some of you see me. Li wrote me the following:

"Was just thinking about you the other night when my friend was eating a sausage that looked like some GMO nightmare donkey's penis...not that i have ever seen one. the weirdest things bring you to mind."

Once again, Merry Christmas!

Busted in Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is known for its happy menus which in plain old English means drugs. There's no two ways about it. The town is built for tourists and there are plenty of TV screens all over town to keep you from actually exploring the caves, lagoons and villages around the town. It's also a tubing mecca.

A few nights here and the Friend's theme song is etched into your mind. The buckets of drinks are not strong enough to tune out the annoying laugh tracks but they are strong enough to make you walk across a rickety bridge to the island to get your drink on some more. The island is also unfortunately the site of many a drug busts by the local police. I didn't want to be the party pooper and remind everyone of that tidbit of information from the guidebook and sure enough, I spent the night in a Lao police station with a petrified Irish girl who got busted. She was scared out of her mind because the cops didn't want to take the bribe out in the open at the party and instisted she follow them to the police station. The police was suspiciously young (21 years old) and all male. I just grabbed her arm and walked to the station with her. Chris, Andrew and her boyfriend followed us. At one point the cops wanted the girls to take a walk with two of the 'officers' but thankfully none of the guys were to keen on letting us go into the night. She was given two choices: 1) jail or 2) paying money. I wonder how many tourists choose choice number one. We emptied our pockets and got away with a $300 fine as opposed to the 500 they asked for initially. All this took four hours. She was a bit shaky. Her boyfriend was plastered and banging his fists on the police man's desk whilst swigging beer.

That little experience set us back for a little bit. The following day didn't start for me until about 1pm. Chris and I rented bikes and went out to crawl through some caves.

There wasn't enough time to do more exploring, so we convinced those of the group that remained in Vang Vieng to rent motorbikes with us the following day and head out to a larger cave and the blue lagoon.

There was rap music being played at the lagoon and the cave was set a 100 metres up in the limestone hill.

I'm in Vientiane and had a nice couple of days looking around town. Got my Vietnamese visa and met up with Lulu's parents for dinner. They showed me the hospital where life began for Tuc and Lu. Saw their old apartment they lived in. Saw the river they crossed. Where Mr. P went to university. Mrs. P commanded me to "speak francais" with one of her cousins.

Sawadee de Laos

After a full day on the bus I finally reached Chiang Khong in northern Thailand. There were four other ladies on the bus along with a German couple. None of us spoke to each other on the ride but we all ended up around the dinner table later that night at the same hotel. Within 20 minutes of finishing dinner the three Spanish ladies, Edith, a stunning six foot Dutch woman, and I were sweaty and naked in a herbal sauna. What a way to end my Thailand experience.

Crossing the Mekong took three minutes the following morning and on the other side, in all their glory, the Lao immigration boys were waiting for us on plastic stools protected from the sun by a tarp. Well, they seemed to be waiting for Edith to be more precise. She walked off the boat and one of them instantly grabbed her hand and asked if she wanted a Lao boyfriend. Smooth operators is what I call these guys because one of them pinched my arm hair and told me I was hairy like King Kong. I ran my hands up and down his arms and told him he was smooth like a woman. Then his friend, jackass number 3, turned to me and said "you look Lao." I mustered a "you think so?" in response. "Yes, you want Lao boyfriend?" It is illegal for a Lao citizen to be boinking a foreigner. You have to apply for special permits if you want to get married and the government has the right to deny you these. Jackass number 3 was obviously not familiar with his own government's laws.


The longtail boat ride was beautiful. Laos, like Burma, seems untouched and most of its jungles are still intact. Edith and I sat together and were equally annoyed at the 'loud' people in the back of the boat. Little did we know that one of the really loud guys (the tallest Korean in the world) and a few other people distributed all over the boat would form our posse. Andrew, an American highschool teacher, and his buddy of the moment, a dread-locked German named Sven, were the first people we met. We had a nice dinner and Sven kept telling me I talked too much which many days later I found out was meant to be a compliment rather than a diss. Ana and Ze, two Portuguese chicks, joined us and then set about staring and grinning at me because I reminded them of Elaine from Seinfeld!

That night, in a small town named Pakbeng somewhere between Chiang Khong and Luang Prabang, a rat successfully dragged a bag of food across the floor in the room next door and then spent the entire night trying to pull it out through a little hole in the wall. I thought the thing was in my room and didn't dare move until the sun came up. It wasn't. It was in Mr. Dreadlock and Andrew's room.

Day number two we met Peter, Chris, Ayna, Owen, Jeremy, Ki and a Scottish couple. We bonded and then went our separate ways when we arrived in Luang Prabang, one of the most stunning little cities I've ever encountered. The place has an incredible amount of charm and a lot of establishments called Phousie. One of the first signs I saw offered a Phousie massage (the ph is pronounced as a p). The night market is one of the quietest, best stocked markets I've seen. I wanted to buy everything.

Edith and I checked into our guesthouse which was reminiscent of a forty year old boarding school caught in a time warp. We had a romantic dinner that night and then it was out for drinks which is were the night took a turn. Everyone showed up at Hive. It's one of only two bars mentioned in the LP guidebook and by 10pm the place was hopping. All the boat people came out and the rounds of Lao Lao whisky flowed freely until about 11:30pm. Bars close early and the tuk-tuk drivers are ready to get the drunk falang that stumble out even drunker. Twelve of us piled into a tuk-tuk and headed for the after hours joint, Vietnam bar, set in what looked like a garage. It was packed with drunk tourists. Our group brought the ladyboy, a lovely, uhm, lady on vacation from Vientiane.

I must admit that after shot number 300043232 I couldn't remember her name or how I had gotten to this place. Luckily, Peter had the brains to make an arrangment with one of the driver's before he got drunk and he waited for us until we were ready to head back home. December 2 is Lao National Day. Forever to be rememebered as the day I didn't see day light because I spent my time trying to sleep off a hangover.


December 3 we all loaded into a tuk tuk and headed out of town to the tiered Kuang Si waterfall. Hiking up the waterfall was depressing. I am out of shape and it is embarrassing. Once on top, the view and jungle were rewarding if not a bit dangerous to navigate on account of all the water streaming toward the edge.




The Hmong village on the way back was a little more depressing. There were at least sixty little kids and far too few adults in town. A five year old girl asked me in a flirtatious manner if I had lipstick for her. She batted her eyelashes and kept repeating "what's your name, you?"