The end of an affair

Photo mural

Few places along our route have warranted such glowing praise as Japan. It's the kind of country you can travel around for weeks and find infuriatingly few things to complain about.

Just as we feared, a few more days in Tokyo has simply resulted in us falling a little deeper in love with it. And it's not for a lack of trying; we really did our best to find some dirt. But even under the harshest, most nit-picking, critical eyes, this place just seems to churn up yet more lovable qualities.

Of course, like any city of 15 million people, it has issues. But they are negligible, and never quite reach the point of being a problem. Like a cute Beagle puppy who, for a brief moment, considers shitting on your favourite carpet, but never actually does.

Other than the very high cost of living (last year Tokyo was only beaten by Moscow, London and Seoul, as the world's most expensive city) we have been stunned at the wealth, health and general pleasantness of its inhabitants.


Stunning

The most outrageous municipal atrocity we've experienced, has been the strange lack of public bins and a quite confusing underground system.

Then again, we've had it good. Our hospitable performance artist friend Emily lent us her flat and for a few days we commuted daily into the centre of Tokyo, amongst polite and well-dressed office workers. We've done some sites, eaten conveyor belt sushi, sung Karaoke, bicycled through the parks, seen the 5am fish market, and crossed the world's busiest intersection, at Shibuya station.

Shibuya is also the setting of a very cute little story. It's where the famous statue of Hachikō stands - a dog who achieved national fame and adoration for his remarkable loyalty to his master, a professor at the University of Tokyo.

Every day Hachikō would see his master off at his home, and then greet him on the train platform at Shibuya, at the end of the day. Same time, every day.

When the professor died, in 1925, Hachikō would still come back to wait for his dead owner, at the precise same time. Hachikō did this for eleven years straight, every single day, until his own death (and imagined spiritual reunion with his master). This amazing story spread and a statue was erected.

Apparently a film is being made of this, featuring Richard Gere as the professor.

So pardon the gushing, but Japan, like Hachikō, has been pretty fantastic.


Hiroshima

Sadly, this is it. Today we move on. So, domo arigato gozaimasu, Nippon. Hajime mashite.

Our next destination is Melbourne. Which, for the first time on our journey, takes us over the equator and into the Southern Hemisphere.

We'll let you know how it goes.

In the Land of the Rising Sun

Cherry blossoms

They say nothing can ever prepare you for Japan. They are absolutely right.

Having been here for a little over a week, we can report that Japan is a mighty strange place. A completely unique, separate outpost that must have evolved for millions of years in quiet parallel to the rest of humanity.

We are fairly convinced that at no point in time did the Japanese ever live in caves or make fire by striking rocks together. The Japanese Neanderthal man probably did not walk hunched over at all; instead riding a small green electric golf cart with cup holders in the arm rests and a big yellow Pokemon Pikachu painted on the bonnet. As he popped out of his capsule hotel, yawned his morning yawn and reached out to the dash board to pour himself another perfect, automated cappuccino, his cushioned leather seat would have reached its pre-programmed optimum bum-warming temperature of 37.3 degrees Celsius.


Techno

As you probably figured by now, our Japanese experience has been almost exclusively wonderful. Our arrival, for starters, was silky smooth. Our airplane door popped open and the ultra modern Narita airport sped us quickly and painlessly through it, via an uninterrupted sequence of elevators, escalators and conveyor belts, till we'd been reunited with our backpacks and were well on our way to our first hostel. And that, incidentally, was where our tears of joy dried up.

Because, as we opened the door to our 85 dollar youth hostel cell, our new-found Nippon-love took its first hit. To say that Japanese hotel rooms are small is a big understatement. Our miniature bunk bed, new sheets suggestively stacked on top of it, was so tightly wedged against the four encroaching walls that once we had fitted ourselves and our backpacks inside the room, we had to take turns to breathe.


Kyoto Gate

Unfazed by this smallness, the next morning we went out to explore Fukuoka, our randomly chosen first destination in the south of Japan. It was clean like you wouldn't believe. Fukuoka, for a fact, is a city without a single discarded cigarette butt. We checked. It was beautiful and awesome and blustery, and in an instant Japan was worth any awkward jet lag, to experience first hand.

The people are lovely, too. They are nice and polite, suspiciously so, as if in the back of their head planning some dastardly deed when you least expect it. In fact, they are probably the nicest, gentlest people we've ever met. So nice that they make the people of Lao (who were, until about a week ago, "the nicest, gentlest people we've ever met") look like evil barbarians.

And it goes for everyone, not just shop attendants, receptionists or other people who are after your money. The Japanese are so respectful to each other that every evening the main national TV news broadcaster bows so deeply that the whole country sees his bald spot.

And so, Japan is a joyous delight. A sugary pause in our odyssey of the world. Birds sing. Children laugh. It's like being in a corporate promo for Perfectville. Everything is right where you need it. On every street corner 24 hour vending machines obediently wait to serve a variety of refreshments, all in perfect working order, of course. As you enter restaurants or shops or post offices, the staff greet you in unison, as if that is what human beings do to each other.

The train stations are unlike other train stations. For one, the trains run on time (we've actually set our watches by them). Secondly, there's no loitering, littering or other unsavoury behaviour. And for the first time in our lives, there is no drunken man on platform 12 talking gibberish to his invisible friend.

Since our Japan Rail Passes allow us to board nearly all Shinkansen - the world famous super fast trains - we have used them for almost every journey so far (it's so fast it needs to lean over during cornering, otherwise it would fall over). Bursting with childish glee we took one to Hiroshima, so visibly thrilled that an elderly conductor on the platform spontaneously presented us with a small gift wrapped Shinkansen plastic ruler, normally intended for 10 year old trainspotters. Sweet. Arigato conductor-san.


Bullet train

Hiroshima was, as one would expect, a sobering experience. We visited the site where at 8.15am on the 6th of August 1944 the 'Enola Gay' dropped 'Little Boy' - the world's first atomic bomb. An obliterated skeleton of a building, now known as the A-Bomb Dome, still stands untouched at the hypocentre, as a mark of respect to the 90 000 people who in less than two seconds lost their lives. A further 40 000 people who died from radiation sickness, leukemia and burns are remembered in the amazingly well-curated Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.

Out of solidarity we sent a symbolic post card to Gordon Brown, to remind him to get rid of the UK's remaining 200 nuclear war heads. Hopefully he'll get round to it one of these days.


A-bomb dome

Then we took a view-blurring Shinkansen ride to Kyoto, one of Japan's main cultural hubs, where we rode bicycles to Buddhist temples and watched beautiful Geisha's pose for crowds. The famous pink cherry blossoms weren't quite blossoming yet, but a few early branches gave us a lovely sneak peek.


Geisha

Now we're in Tokyo, the mega metropolis that once upon a time was a small fishing village called 'Edo'. On the agenda is the Tokyo Fish market (sushi breakfast), Anime Centre, beer museum and photography exhibits.

Who knows, we might even get to see a cigarette butt or two.

Sayonara, for now.

Leaving the Dragon

Tiananmen

Unsurprisingly, our last week in China was the one we enjoyed the most. Having finally adjusted, as much as we were ever going to, to the behavioural and cultural idiosyncrasies of this bizarre eastern giant, we spent a trouble free few days in Beijing and Shanghai.

In Beijing, a city the size of Belgium, we had many memorable moments. We visited gallery openings at Beijing 798, an emerging Chinese arts community spanning more than 20 city blocks, where we saw installations, graffiti, photography and a much hyped generation of Chinese celeb artists smoking cigarettes in uber cool arts cafes.


Rosy cheeks

Away of such artsy circles, our hippie like appearance continues to intrigue. In response to the beard, in general, men stare in contempt (or awe, we're not quite sure which, possibly both), women giggle nervously, and children scream in absolute terror. One particular young boy, on board a recent train, came sneaking up to Sami to gawk at the facial hair, for a few seconds - then run screaming down the carriage crying (to the amusement of the whole carriage). Once consoled by his laughing mother, he'd bravely return, drying his tears as he waddled back towards the freak show. Then again, after his little fix of weirdness, he'd burst into tears and run away in fear. The poor child was obviously caught between two of the most powerful human instincts - curiosity and survival.


Choppers

We also visited the world famous Forbidden City, a walled World Heritage Site adjacent to Tiananmen Square, which till 1912 was home to highly protected Chinese dynasties. For 500 years this area was out of bounds for commoners, only servants and concubines let in to do their thing. This place, as you can imagine, is full of stunning buildings with equally stunning gardens. The buildings have names like 'the Palace of Tranquil Longevity' and 'the Hall of Mental Cultivation', a legacy, perhaps, from many bored afternoons by imperial royalty.

Then, of course, The Great Wall, which was indeed great. And very beautiful too. Snaking across misty blue mountain ridges as far as the eye can see, it more than lives up to its reputation. With 10 000 watch towers over 6350 kilometers this ancient brick divider rises and falls through valleys and peaks, once upon a time warding off evil Mongols and Manchurians.

Although we only completed a 10 kilometer stretch, our legs too scrawny from years of sitting on comfy TV sofas, it was long enough to appreciate this unique construction. For further excitement, as we neared the place where our giant tour bus awaited, we zip-lined across a deep ravine to ground level and a few well deserved drinks.


Forbidden city

After Beijing we headed straight to Shanghai. Seeing as we'd had more than our fair share of uncensored hardship aboard rural Chinese trains, we invested in two luxurious sleeper tickets on the exclusive Beijing-Shanghai Express, an experience worthy of every Yuan spent.

This overly indulgent leg was by far the finest train experience that either of us has ever had. Classical music, soft red carpet, a small tube of complimentary tooth paste, you name it. It felt like the Concorde flew again. A train journey the way train journeys were meant to be. The attendants was attentive, synchronized to the second via flashy headsets, and fellow passengers smiled politely and wore deodorant. The 12 hours to Shanghai felt like 12 minutes.

Once in Shanghai the decadence didn't stop. Our good friend Ben showed us the suave circles of China's young expat community, which was introduced to us at an 88th floor champagne birthday party.

Amidst open air Jacuzzis, built high above the cloud cover, we mingled with an alpha breed of the corporate food chain - investment bankers, advertising managers, executive wine merchants, all very attractive, interesting and confident. Over miniature spring rolls and well rehearsed swapping of business cards, we small talked about politics, career moves and exactly how much free booze would compensate for a 100 hour work week.

Everyone got mighty drunk, of course, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. The grinning birthday boy, inevitably, got thrown into the jacuzzi. As the evening wore on and the free bar ran out, we took the speeding elevators down to ground level, back to where the mortals live.


Temple light

All in all, as our Chinese experience has shown us, there are two sides to every story, sometimes more. There's the past, the future, the old and the new. From the very poor to the very wealthy, controversy and opportunity. As such, China can be amazingly wonderful and beautiful, as well as incredibly selfish and polluted.

It's a place where you can do anything you want, as long as it's been preapproved by the government. Soon the Olympics will be here, the ultimate opportunity to show off modern China to the rest of the world.

For the most part, the China we've experienced has been positive and altogether a real pleasure. We just hope it can stay that way.

Thank you, China. Take care of yourself.

Next, Japan.


Lady in red

Smog, phlegm and marbled pavements

Easy geezer

Since our last post we've made our way across three more vast Chinese provinces, an experience we're unlikely to forget. While it has disproven some of our initial impressions, it has also confirmed some common preconceptions about this strange place. For one, yes, China is absolutely massive. It's huge. No, it's bigger than huge. It's 6.5% of the Earth's land area, nearly 300 000 times the size of Bermuda.

Secondly, it is very populated, home to an unbelievable 23% of all human beings. It's the kind of country where travelling at night does not mean less people around you, an observation confirmed by our sleep deprived mid night intercity missions.

Arriving well before sunrise, we've invariably been greeted by oceans of humanity. On dark freezing mornings tens of thousands of Chinese commuters stand outside colossal train stations, huddled together like a slowly rotating colony of emperor penguins on an ice shelf, each one taking their turn in the coldest outer layer. All of them without a hat and desperately breathing into their cupped icy hands.


Smokey

Our trip has taken us to Chongqing, Xi'an, and Beijing - three more Chinese supercities. We've seen the Terracotta Warriors of Xi'an, the hot springs of Huaqing Palace, strolled around the quaint fortified city of Pingyao and seen silk worms do their grossly fascinating magic. Not bad really, for a week's work.

Almost all these places have demonstrated more of the modern day Chinese characteristics - humongous buildings, ancient heritage and a nationwide lack of personal hygiene. Because, holy mother of God, this is a gross nation. If China was a movie it would be set to a Philip Glass soundtrack of spitting, sneezing, coughing, slurping and burping. Despite having one of the most advanced space programs on Earth, the Chinese have apparently yet to discover things like napkins and soap.

Any more than a few minutes aboard a Chinese bus will result in an involuntary phobic retraction of the strings on your sweater hoodie, to minimize any exposed facial area. Presumably, since billions of Chinese cough in each others faces all day long, they must have developed incredible immune defenses. Surely one day, from under the smouldering rubble after a catastrophic nuclear war, the only two surviving species on Earth will rise - cockroaches and the uber-resistant Chinese bus passenger.


Kiosk

Starbucks and McDonald's appear on every corner of every block in every city, their entry strategies into China no doubt ready decades before they could set up shop here. Even Kenny Rogers is in on the action, with a chain of bizarre chicken outlets. In the grand shopping districts of the centers of the cities a whirl of people proudly mill about in jeans, carrying McFlurry's and sipping cappuccinos. China is trying very hard to look like a developed country, although it clearly isn't.


Ticket counter

With an enormous population growth (Chinese women push out more than 13 million sprogs a year) and a massive increase in GDP, the general consumption of China is simply mind-boggling. Travelling through the otherwise beautiful countryside, one passes an endless stream of factories, the size of small towns, every one with a number of towering brick chimneys spewing out thick toxic smoke. Much of which surely ends up in the lungs of the phlegmy population.

The environmental impact is painfully clear. Most rivers and valleys we've seen, no matter how remote, have been littered with trash. China uses an unfathomable 3 billion plastic bags a day (causing the government, apparently, to officially 'ban' them from June onwards). By 2020 this country is estimated to annually produce four hundred million tonnes of garbage. So, as always, the long sought after development and economic growth comes at a massive price.

Still, the cities we've been to have all been rather clean and fun, something we weren't quite expecting. With skylines that would embarrass even the most architecturally ambitious city in the west, they have all been overwhelming urban metropolises, pulsating in colourful neon displays.


Neon

Every city we've visited, even the ones which are in the arid middle of the country, have had shiny skyscrapers so tall one can't see the top of them (although the thick smoggy pollution may have had something to do with that). For a country where more than 90 million people live under the internationally recognized poverty line, there is an awful lot of money being spent on marbled pavements.

In Chongqing we had a lovely dinner in a 45th floor "rolating restirant", enjoying 360 degree views of the fancy inner mega city, as we ate our way through a bizarre menu of bad translations. Here, some of our favourites:

Rude Fat Cow
High Fever Cabbage
Balsam Pear Cloud Ear Clear Stomach Point
The Outer Space Pulls The Shrimp


Munchkin

Being a famously omnivorous nation, the Chinese seem to eat anything. For dinner we've been offered anything you can think of - snake, toad, Guinea pig, sea cucumber, balls, guts, brain, rabbit, buffalo, scorpion, grasshopper, and several indeterminable other items. However, like all true spoiled Western scardicats, we've mostly resorted to good old fried vegetable rice, and other bland unadventurous options. Although our culinary spirit tells us to go forth and explore, the reality of 14 hour coach journeys tells us not to.

We continued our journey across the mighty Yangtze (Asia's longest and the world's 3rd longest river) and along bridges over gorges and valleys, to the ancient city of Xi'an (meaning 'perpetual peace'). As the beginning of the famous Silk Road, and having been the preferred home for the most important dynasties (Zhou, Qin, Han and Tang, according to our guide), Xi'an has a number of interesting sights, the Terracotta Warriors the most famous one.


Miniature souvenir army

This amazing underground army (touted as the '8th wonder of the world') is beginning to rival Disneyland in entry numbers. And it's gone fast too. Since 1974, when a local farmer accidentally found fragments while drilling a well, a vast concrete village of gimmick shops, hotels, museums and bus terminals have been built on the rural site. There is even a museum on the site dedicated to displaying the story of, wait for it, the museum being built. That's how proud the government is of this place.

And it keeps getting better, with more treasures being discovered all the time. In 1980, for instance, they found 2 gold ridden bronze chariots at a site nearby. For all their cruelty and ruthlessness these ancient dynasties really did grandiose opulence in a way no one has been able to replicate since. Not even Donald Trump.

As expected, everything imaginable is for sale at the site. Chewing gum, balloons, toilet paper, and, unsurprisingly, plenty of miniature warriors - all manically flogged by screaming vendors who'll chase you down the street in order to fully get on your nerves. The local farmer who discovered the site, a national hero and president of the museum, sits every day in the gift shop signing books (and, as he happily demonstrated, spitting on the floor).


Us

Now, since a few days back, we're in Beijing, a large and remarkably charming place. Arriving by coach at night (hoodie strings strung as tight as humanly possible) we made our way to a very nice hostel near Tianamen Square and the famous rosy-cheeked pudgy poster of Chairman Mao.

Tomorrow we go to see the Great Wall, which requires us to have another early start. So, sorry, bed time it is.

Good night from China.

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