Latest photos

Guard


Tunnel vision


Kites for sale


New generation


Faces


Street scene


Dawn at Xi'an train station

Into China

Fenghuang

Entering the People's Republic of China, the most populated nation on earth (currently at more than 1.3 billion), was rather less crowded than we had expected.

A minibus, jam packed with bags of buffalo meat, dropped us off at the border, The Friendship Pass, one of the 3 crossing points from Vietnam into China. We hoisted our enormous backpacks and walked across a two kilometer stretch of dusty road, a no man's land lined with articulated export trucks, stacked high with bonnets, wing mirrors and other car parts.

After saying our goodbye's to the last deadpan Vietnamese officials, we entered China through a colossal concrete building, the size of a destination shopping mall. Amongst security cameras, two way mirrors and locked doors we walked across massive marbled halls to the only other human beings in the entire place, the nicest (and fattest) customs officials we have ever come across.

They welcomed us to China, briefly examined our documents under UV light, and then happily stamped our passports. We exited the building and met our first living creature on Chinese soil - a large grey rat. Fortuitous, perhaps, since 2008 is the year of the rat.


Gorgeous gorges

Our first few days of travelling in China have been thoroughly interesting. The towns we've seen, including several of which that people only seem to visit since the road goes through them, have been enigmatic to say the least. Everywhere we go, we see awkward struggles of how China attempts to merge its past with its future. The cities are a strange mix of ox carts and sky scrapers, neon lights and ancient dynasties, the bizarre result of a massive explosion of development that is clearly still trying to settle on a suitable pace. Communism and capitalism sit side by side, like Weight Watchers and Ben & Jerry's.

The Chinese are friendly and polite, and extremely curious about where we come from and where we're headed. Staring at us like a child seeing a cat for the first time, most people stop in their tracks to take photos, to say 'Hello' or to whisper to their friends. The beard is doubtless adding to the spectacle, as China seems completely devoid of facial hair. The wise-Chinese-man-beard that you see in the movies, with long white whiskers, simply does not exist. It's not that beards are uncool, the Chinese just don't seem to have the follicles to pull them off. Gilette definitely does not do much business here.


Crowds

One very Chinese trait is smoking. Everyone does it, whenever they possibly can. While eating, while talking, while driving. If they could smoke three cigarettes at once, they would. Everything smells like stale tobacco. Travelling through China, we have discovered, is like being an ant traversing across a very large ash tray. We only hope that we won't be spritzed with window cleaner and wiped out with a giant sponge.

Another inescapable habit is spitting. Spitting is to China what nose picking is to Vietnam, a birth right and national past time. One can not step more than a few feet without entering a minefield of phlegm. On the buses it's particularly nasty, with everyone compulsively spitting on the floor. Allegedly the government is trying to eradicate this, in time for the 2008 Olympics, but the habit seems to be deep rooted.


Outdoor hair washing

So far the places we've been to have been rather peculiar. In Nanning we stayed in a huge 'business hotel', that specialized in '3 hour visits'. It had lots of older business men and young females, disappearing into rooms for 'business'. Perhaps they were making conference calls, or going over important fiscal strategies. We never quite found out. Whatever the case, there was lots of business being conducted there.

Then we took the night train to Liszhou; us and 50 Korean tourists, who offered us rice wine and confusing conversation. From there we continued to Fenghuang, a beautiful, fortified old river town in the Hunan province.

After checking out the old city for a day, we joined a very non-English speaking tour group (despite the best efforts of a young boy who tried to translate for us with his mobile phone) to check out the surroundings.


Waterfall walkway

We trekked several hours along a slippery rock path and a rickety metal walkway (bolted with re bar to the sheer cliff face) to arrive at a stunning waterfall deep in a gorge. This was one place the language barrier didn't matter at all, everyone speechless by the sights. On the bus back we were given the bus microphone and urged by the tour guide to entertain. Ten minutes later the whole coach was singing 'we rike the frowers, we rike the raffodils..'. Awesome.

At the moment we're slowly making our way north to Xi'an, and the terracotta army. With massive distances, travel in China takes a lot of time. Hopefully we'll get there soon.

Till then, we'll enjoy the ride.


Country dweller

The way to Hanoi

Weed patrol outside the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

February in Hanoi is surprisingly cold. For a city on the latitude of Honolulu it's bloody freezing. Not like nippy or chilly, but good old bitter, finger-curling cold. It's so cold that one could walk into the nearest bank wearing a trench coat and a balaclava and not trigger a security alert. Judging from our fellow traveller's fashion faux pas, socks in sandals etc, we weren't the only ones caught by surprise.

Hanoi itself is a curious city, a visible mix of the old and the new. Shiny dead ducks and various unidentifiable meats hang glistening in restaurant windows. Communist symbolism, military heritage and French colonial architecture is everywhere. In the middle of the nation's capital, named after 'A city in a bend of the river', the real estate allows for crusty showrooms featuring industrial machines, sheet metal and wooden agricultural tools. It's definitely a city in transition.


Shivering tea break on miniature street furniture

All this is surrounded by a new generation of western influence and modern looking mobile phone counters, video shops and internet cafes (yet bandwidth is slow due to the Vietnamese state censorship only allowing one international internet connection for the whole country). Still, it seems the open borders are bringing in the inevitable. The first McDonald's must be opening soon.

Another trademark of Hanoi is crazy traffic. Hundreds of thousands of motor bikes continuously weave in and out of each other, overtaking on both sides with only inches to spare, many loaded like small trucks. This morning we saw one bike with big flabby freshly slaughtered swine and another carrying 20 foot long metal poles, as if doing a spot of jousting in rush hour.

The crowded, narrow streets change their name almost every block, which makes navigation hard. Fortunately they're lined with clusters of adjoining shops specializing in the same products. So we've started memorizing products we see on offer, to find our way to and from the hotel. For instance, the way home today was shoes - clothes - carvings - upholstery - paint - metal. If we'd seen zippers, we'd have gone too far.


Dodging scooters

We also had the bizarre pleasure of visiting the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, a majestic marble homage in the middle of Hanoi, surrounded by a brigade of security personnel.

After waiting in a strict queue for camera collection (no photos) with thousands of Japanese, we were led up a closely guarded red carpet stairway to the sacred inner sanctum. There, in a closed glass coffin in a somber room lay Ho Chi Minh himself, meticulously embalmed and manicured (he gets 3 months of Moscow maintenance each year), with glowing pink spotlights on his face and hands which made him look like he was being roasted for dinner. The only thing missing was some spring onion and a few new potatoes.

The casket was flanked by 4 armed security guards, one guarding each corner. In the ceiling above us were a number of criss crossing laser beams worthy of Mission Impossible. Quite a sight.

Getting to Hanoi, travelling up the coast of the South China Sea, was interesting and uncomfortable. Theoretically the long haul coaches in Vietnam are luxurious - reclining beds, air conditioning, TV - but the reality is rather different. The leather beds are short and narrow and the roads less than smooth.

To make matter worse, as soon as we wedged ourselves into our fancy little seats the frigid air con kicked into action, as if we'd been a shipment of bacon needing to be kept fresh. Also, to add insult to injury, a skipping DVD of Vietnamese love ballads looped nearly the entire journey. That's 8 hours from Ho Chi Minh City to Nha Trang. Another 8 hours to Hoi Ann. Then 5 hours to Hue. And finally 14 hours to Hanoi. Which ever way you look at it, that's a whole lot of love ballads. Then again, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.


Rural farmer

Along the 1000 kilometer journey we saw a strange mix of rural Vietnam. Roadside badminton, buffalo farming, trash burning at night, endless paddy fields, the dredging for a body in a river, a coach crashed into a ditch, and a giant rock fall that forced us to find another road. At night the tiny plastic furniture would come out and people gather around in roadside garages lit by fluorescent tubes, to play cards and feast on big pots of soup. Like we've seen across South East Asia, people seem to work hard during the day and then socialize hard during the evening.


Security at souvenir shop

We stayed overnight in two more Unesco World Heritage cities, Hoi An and Hue, two old trade ports, which have now converted to tourism instead. They had charming pedestrian 'old towns', but like most coastal towns in winter they where pretty sleepy.


Temple moat reflection

In Hue we took a tour of their famous ancient royal tombs, big moated temple structures with ornately carved stone carps for drain pipes, dragons for steps and massive engraved obelisks. All built by vain royalty who needed confirmation that they would be remembered after their death. One of them allegedly commissioned a poem with 600 verses to be read at his funeral. That ought to do it.


Royal tomb near Hue

For now our main mission is to secure Chinese visas and buy some thermal underpants. Both quite essential. Because it's going to get a lot colder, before it gets warmer. Our next stop is the Chinese border.

On the whole, Vietnam has given us many special moments. Some great, some bad and some just plain bizarre. But what they all have in common is that they've been highly original.

Thank you Vietnam. One day we'll be back.


Hoi An harbour

Latest photos

Having a break


Classic


New Year's wishes


Street scene


Green

And the worst hotel name award goes to...

Unbelievable

Tet in Ho Chi Minh

Everywhere

Coming from Cambodia, Vietnam is a welcome change. Although the two countries share many similarities you notice the differences the moment you cross the border.

The most obvious difference is the sudden abundance of flags. Rows upon rows of very red, very socialist, Vietnamese flags (blood red with a large single yellow star) line the streets, on equidistant flag poles. Although these have clearly been placed by the government, especially where tourists cross the border, most private homes seem to have one too, proudly hanging from window bars, fence poles, laundry lines, etc.

Another visible difference is that the streets are cleaner. Compared to Cambodia (or any other South East Asian country, for that matter) this is like stepping into the bathroom of an obsessive compulsive neighbour. People seem to continuously sweep the pavements, and frequent bin-digging gives away some kind of nationwide recycling scheme. Plastic bottles and cans, especially, seem to be gold dust.

People are very friendly and are stereotypically keen on foreigners. And not just because they are walking dollar signs (which, judging from the prices, they certainly are), but perhaps also because they come with new and different ideologies.

The first question is almost always 'Which country is yours?' or 'Where from?'. Once you tell them, they more often than not give you a few well-pronounced phrases in your mother tongue and recite the capital and perhaps even some famous pop star. That's how good at tourism these guys are.


Party girl

Another notable Vietnamese trait is plenty of nose picking. No matter where you go, you see lots of people very publicly picking their noses. Unashamedly, continuously and energetically. Like gold diggers in Klondike. Police men, travel agents, bus drivers, everyone, shamelessly engage in what is clearly an art form over here. Knuckle deep and absent minded, they search for hidden treasures so far up their nasal cavities they may not find their way back.

Our customs official was the worst (best). As we were going through the customs procedure on the Cambodian/Vietnamese border, this little uniformed man with his disproportionately large officials cap, stood up in his tiny glass booth, clearly visible to several hundred foreign visitors, and proceeded to shove his right index finger so far up his honker that he seemed for a moment to be tickling his brain.

Once he'd struck some gold he would carefully extract it and smear the produce onto his other hand, which he held out, palm up, like an artist holding out his palette. Just like that he continued for a good ten minutes, to the wide-eyed amazement of the queue of waiting travellers.


Tet transport

Once we had passed by this slightly off putting nasal artist (fortunately he didn't handle our passports), our first stop was Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. For the next few nights we stayed in a very decent hotel in the backpacker district, so central that we explored the city almost exclusively on foot.

Ho Chi Minh City was just as busy as we'd expected, with thousands of backpackers milling around amongst the 5 million or so local residents. Families, couples, gap year students; Vietnam is clearly offering them all a relatively cheap and exciting destination, if only as a passage to the bigger goal, China.

Our arrival in Vietnam also coincided with 'Tet', the Vietnamese (and Chinese) New Year, a time when the entire country takes a week long break to eat chicken, drink watery beer and hang out with the family. Other than the gringo shops most commercial activity stops completely and the Vietnamese sit by the side of the street in kid sized plastic chairs, playing cards and getting drunk.

Like the Chinese, families pass around presents (virtually every child under ten was running around screaming with excitement, carrying fresh-out-of-the-box plastic guns, toy planes and inflatables). We also saw lots of kids excitedly looking through their yearly little red envelope of 'lucky money'. Very cute.


Exploring the yearly little red envelope

Another tradition seems to be the men sitting around and getting very very drunk, in that way that only Asian men get drunk. Perhaps it's that infamous enzyme deficiency, but these guys get burpy drunk after just a few beers. Yet, when foreigners pass, they politely wipe the frothy dribble from their moustaches, put their playing cards down and offer the season's greetings. Ahh, sweet. Asians do make for well-mannered alcoholics.

Meanwhile, wrinkly old ladies sit in doorways and impossibly narrow alleyways and greet each other with "Chuc mung nam moi" which is 'Happy new year'.

The next day, to take advantage of the local tourist sights, we visited the 'War Remnants Museum. Just like the original name of the museum suggests: 'The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government of South Vietnam', this museum is more than slightly one-sided. Despite this, it houses a huge number of fascinating photos of the Vietnam War and, especially, the part involving America's nasty chemical war fare.

Like in Laos we were offered endless evidence of the effects of indiscriminate American bombing of civilians, and the complete ignorance of the lasting effects of using Agent Orange and a number of other deadly chemicals. Still today in Vietnam, more than 30 years after the war ended, tens of thousands of deformed children are born thanks to leaking nerve agents in the soil and water. Nasty legacy indeed. Although shooting bullets is not really cool, spraying chemicals is even less so. Makes one think that even in war there should be rules.

Amongst the tour groups there were quite a few American war vet looking guys, subtly bowing their heads in shame every time the museum video showed more charred bodies. Perhaps they were here to see Vietnam liberated, at last, to the free world, even if that just means Coca cola and Mr Pringles. Or perhaps they were here to finally face their demons of the past.

The next day we sampled some fine Vietnamese breakfast food (the pancakes with dipping sauce are highly addictive). Then we visited the 'Reunification Palace', the former President's palace, in the center of town. It's one of the last sites which the North Vietnamese tanks conquered, and was the place where the 'liberated' South and the communist North Vietnam were symbolically reunited.


In the president's seat

Like good old fishing stories the museum guides offer many well-polished stories of heroic socialist bravery, that undoubtedly get bigger and better with every time they're told.

One in particular, told to us by our very nice but dull guide, was about a South Vietnamese (American backed) pilot who had orders to bomb the evil communist north. But instead of doing this (he was in fact - tadaa! - a communist spy!) he flew straight over to the President's palace and dropped his entire load, causing massive damage. Then he landed safely, defecting, in the North. To this day, our guide told us, he works as a commercial pilot for Vietnam Airlines (who knows, perhaps our flight from Luang Prabang to Siem Reap was piloted by this heroic traitor).


Happy happy

After this museum visit we meandered around the center of town at night, where tens of thousands of Vietnamese New Years revellers had gathered to buy more lucky plastic kids toys and take pictures by enormous municipal flower displays. Communism, for all its disadvantages, does produce some highly impressive city parks.


Late night

And so Ho Chi Minh City will undoubtedly continue. Feasting at Tet, playing cards in miniature chairs, getting burpy drunk and passing presents.

It seems, regardless of historical ideology, national politics or government interventions, there's a deep universal truths for human beings, be they socialist, capitalist or otherwise: everyone likes a good party.

Next, we head up the coast, edging our way further towards the big red.

Bye bye, Ho Chi Minh City. It's been good. Chuc mung nam moi.

The contrast of Phnom Penh

Khmer tea break

Our first few hours in Phnom Penh were hardly what we'd hoped for.

At dusk we unfolded ourselves from the legroom-less coach from Siem Reap. As Cambodian coaches go, there was little room for the passengers, but somehow there was room for no less than 5 motorcycles.

The doors opened to Phnom Penh and before we could say 'Gee, this place smells', we had been accosted by a herd of pushy drivers, forcibly shown two overpriced flea hostels (fortunately both full), and Sami had head butted the pavement thanks to a near-invisible shin-height chain across a dark patch of shitty pavement.

And so the biggest city in Cambodia, once known as 'the Pearl of Asia', welcomed us into its big smelly arms by barraging us with unpleasantries.

But, as so often is the case, things got better. We had soon found a decent hotel, changed from our stale travel clothes and had ordered a pair of margaritas and some curiously delicious pork meatballs at 'Friends' - a great restaurant staffed by formerly abused street children.

Perhaps Phnom Penh wasn't too bad after all. As we're learning, first impressions are rarely spot on.


Traffic at dusk

The next day we explored a few of the city markets, which were either full of very SARS looking chicken corpses or offered the usual mountain of fake sunglasses and plastic ash trays cleverly shaped like a pair of boobs.

Then we visited two places we will never forget. The first was the infamous 'Killing Fields of Choeung Ek', where the Khmer Rouge brutally murdered and buried 17 000 Cambodians between 1975 and 1979. Set in a former orchard a half hour outside Phnom Penh it is a truly horrendous place.


Unimaginable suffering

As you arrive to the site you see a huge number of big dimples in the ground, each one a hastily dug grave for hundreds of murdered people. In the distance an equal sized area has many more, unopened ones, which the Cambodian authorities agreed not to exhume. In the middle stands a single giant modern monument, the stupa, displaying 5000 stacked skulls, teeth and bones, where groups of silent tourists reflect on what they've just seen.

The other place we visited was Tuol Sleng, also known as S-21 or Security Prison 21, another infamous Khmer Rouge war machine. It used to be a secondary school before it was appropriated to be a torture prison. Today it's known as the 'Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum', and one can see thousands of mug shots of inmates, every one with a bone-chilling look in their eyes that gives away their full awareness of facing certain death. There are bullet holes in the walls, there are cabinets full of human remains and some ceilings still show signs of blood splatter.


Torture bed in former classroom at Tuol Sleng

Most of the prisoners tortured to death here were former Khmer Rouge combatants accused of espionage or generally being disloyal to the communist cause. In total, out of more than 17 000 inmates who were imprisoned here, 12 survived. A pretty dire survival rate.

To cheer us up from such a dreadful day of sightseeing we went out and got very drunk. Once again we went back to the awesome 'Friends' restaurant. It's remarkable how quickly alcohol and comfort food can make you forget about mass murder.


Local brew

Unfortunately, since we have such a tight schedule, this will be it for Cambodia, for now. But one thing's for sure. Whichever part of our Cambodian experience we choose to dwell on - the ancient structures, the horrendous genocide or the delicious food, this country has given us memories we won't easily forget.

The Kingdom of Cambodia

Young and old

After a surprisingly pleasant flight on Vietnam Airlines, we touched down in Cambodia. The stewardesses, who spoke nearly understandable English, served up biscuits, the ever present cup of pre-sealed water and a bun so tightly wrapped in plastic that it was impossible even to guess how old it was.

Another pleasant surprise was the airport in Siem Reap. It was excellent. In fact, it was so efficient that in less than 20 minutes of the plane's wheels screeching onto the runway, we had both entered the terminal, applied, paid and received Visas, picked up our luggage, passed through customs and were sitting happily in the back seat of an air conditioned taxi heading into town. This airport is so well thought out that it would put any European airport to shame. Guess when there's so much money coming from tourism (this is the airport serving Angkor Wat, Cambodia's number one attraction) you make sure it works well.


Stone face

Our cab driver, an irritatingly pushy man in his forties, was our first unfortunate indication of the apparently common Cambodian trait of stubborn salesmanship. He was so hellbent on not taking no for an answer, that when we declined booking him as our driver for the next few days, he followed us up into our hostel and sat in the lounge for hours, sulking like a little school boy.

Later, in the evening, after we watched the 'Killing Fields' in our hotel room, we had our first visit to Angkor Wat, the real reason why we are here. We took a tuk tuk to the site, some 8 kilometers out of town, to watch the sunset at Phnom Bakheng, one of the myriad of temples.

But the closer we got to the actual site the more we realized the immense popularity of it all. In a real life human lemming train of hundreds of Japanese tour groups, each one with its own leader and unique recognizable flag, we shuffled, elbowed and clawed our way up through a well trodden forest path. A community music group of Cambodian land mine victims serenaded us with very out of tune musical numbers, their artificial limbs lined up in order to persuade visitors buy CDs.


Sunset crowds

Once we could see the impressive temple we clambered up the ancient, ridiculously steep stairs, alongside thousands of other sunset pilgrims. It was quite the sight. On the top of this 9th century landmark, amongst loose stones and unbelievably dangerous stone structures, was a sea of middle aged Asian tourists fighting to get their shot of the sunset. We were nearly more fascinated by the spectacle of the pilgrims than the marvel of the temple itself.

When we descended to the dusty car parks, a long line of vendors ambushed us in that pushy Cambodian way - to try their luck in flogging postcards, roasted nuts and inflatable power rangers.

The next day we headed out, bed-headed and foggy-eyed, at 5am, in an attempt to see sunrise at Angkor Wat - the grand daddy of the temples. It's the most famous of them all (it even appears on the Cambodian flag), and for good reason too.


Ankor Wat at sunrise

Amongst massive awe-inspiring stone towers, pillared walkways and an endless number of intricately hand carved mural galleries, there is an unbelievable maze of steep stairs, corridors and spectacular fortifications.

It was originally a Hindu temple, but since a long time ago is dedicated to Buddhism. According to some it mirrors the constellation of 'Draco' (like the Pyramids mirror 'Orion's Belt'), bringing even more intrigue to the place. The fact that there are thousands of bats living in the dark roofs, making Gollum-like gross sounds, makes it even more ominous.

After this we visited several of the other temples, almost all equally amazing. It seems a succession of Khmer Kings all wanted to leave their mark and to build a bigger meaner temple than the last guy.


Revenge of the jungle

It's clear to see how the Khmer civilization was once a super power in the region. But also very sad to see how today, a thousand years later, it has fallen from grace and lies mainly in disrepair.

Sure, there are restoration projects on the go (like Luang Prabang Angkor Wat is a UNESCO Heritage site), there are scaffoldings here and there, and a few roofed photo boards showing before and after pictures. But almost all temples have ugly, recent graffiti saying things like 'Kevin from Minnesota, 2004', 'Bollocks' and 'Raj was here'. If only the people in charge would complement some of the hundreds of ticket staff (it costs $20/day) with a few on site guards, then perhaps people would have a bit more respect.


Blessing the girls

The temples of Angkor Wat have survived the rise and fall of the empire that built them, plus a number of horrendous wars, and even the destructive powers of the Khmer Rouge. But today it faces the toughest challenge yet - the flip flop of the modern tourist. Like us, everyone who comes here must leave with a feeling of great awe and pity.

Tomorrow we leave Siem Reap and Angkor Wat, to go to Phnom Penh, once again rushing out of a place where one could happily spend years exploring. On the other hand, if we hadn't rushed from the last place then we wouldn't have had time to see this. And this was definitely worth it.


Hello Moto

Leaving Luang Prabang

Beautiful place

Like we'd been warned by fellow travellers going the opposite direction, Luang Prabang is a difficult place to leave. And not only due to its geographical position, nestled deep in the jungle next to the Mekong river.

With French colonial architecture, fusion Lao cuisine and overwhelmingly accommodating locals, it's a traveller's paradise. So people tend to stay.


Young Monks

Despite choosing rather cheap accommodation (about $12 a night) we've had some of our most pleasant days on the trip, so far. It seems high prices don't always guarantee a good place. The fellow travellers have, without exception, been interesting, relaxed and open minded, including several of which we seem to serendipitously bump into wherever we go, and have struck up nice friendships with.


Calm before the rapids

On reflection Luang Prabang doesn't seem to have any one big reason for why it's such a lovely place. But rather it has a number of smaller reasons that, combined, make it an ideal pit stop for resting weary bones, eat some decent food and, in our case, to do a spot of laundry.


Smooth as silk

The surrounding hills have scattered Buddhist monasteries, the alleyways are lined with endless guest houses and the streets transform into cheap excellent crafts markets at night. The architecture, the culture and the ancient history (it was founded more than a millennium ago) etc, even helped make it a much touted UNESCO World Heritage Site.


Going upstream

To draw us away from the temptation of non stop porking out at a cafe, we took our first ever white water kayak trip down a nearby river. With former monk 'Puma' as our guide (first time we've ever met someone called 'Puma', who isn't a gladiator on a TV reality show) we precariously negotiated our way down 4 hours of sporadic rapids on the 'Nam Ou'.

According to 'Puma' it ranks as a class 2 river (out of 6, 6 being the most difficult) on the international Scale of River Difficulty. In wet season it's upgraded to a class 3, due to the extra turbulence of the additional water. But at this time of year it was quite manageable.

As we made our way down river we saw local Lao on the river banks, some fishing, or panning for Gold, while others were just having their daily dip. Every now and then we saw giant red dots painted on the rocks on the river, each one, apparently, signaling a local death from Malaria. Oops. But unlike the poor locals we have the benefit of anti-Malaria medication, so we're safe.


Young fishermen

A moment that was scarier than both the big red death warnings and the unpredictable white water was when we pulled our kayaks over for lunch at a local village, and a man with a bomb appeared. Yes, basically, a local bus pulled over and a farmer dude in a dark blue Mao costume stepped out, carrying an unexploded bomb (locally referred to as UXO's or Unexploded Ordinances).

Completely unconcerned about the fact that he was potentially about to be blown into a million little pieces, he loudly dinked it down on the side of the road, to come hang out with us, while we ate.


Mind that lower back now, so you don't risk getting hurt

After staring at Mr Mao's pet nuke for long enough to make fairly sure it hadn't started hissing or ticking or something, we went up and had a closer look, including taking some photos of it with its proud owner.


Our man and his UXO

If we'd have more time to spend in Laos, then perhaps we'd realize what a common occurrence this is. In a country completely obliterated by America during the Vietnam war, sourcing scrap metal in the forest has been a huge source of income for many. In fact, between 1971 and 1973, the US dropped more than 2 million tonnes of bombs on Laos, more than the total amount of bombs dropped in during the entire second world war. That equals something like 500 kilos of explosives per person in the country. Nice one. Glad it worked out so well, too.

Laos is a beautiful country and it's clear to see why so many people have told us that it's, by far, their favourite country in Asia. It's easy to travel in and has arguably more genuine charm than any of the countries we've been to so far. Its only real downfall has been that it's too nice. The people are so utterly concerned with avoiding conflict of any sort, at any cost, that they simply smile and agree with everything, even if that means totally ignoring your question. Example:

'Is the bus station over there or over here?'

'Yes...'

Today we were going to leave Luang Prabang to fly out to Cambodia, and Siem Reap, saving us at least three and a half days of spine numbing bus rides on not so great roads.

But as destiny would have it, a sudden rain front overwhelmed the local airport and our safety conscious carrier, Vietnam Airlines, chose not to fly.


Flight chaos

And so it seems we're stuck in Luang Prabang for yet another night. Guess we should be grateful that this happened in a town we don't mind being stuck in.


Luang Prabang at Sunset