To the border

After a break-neck tour of Cambodia with so many early starts the trip to the border was the earliest start of them all: 4.15am, in order to beat the heat.

We travelled in the back of pick-up trucks along rutted dirt roads to the border, watching the sun rise as we travelled east and saw rustic Cambodia slowly spring to life.

Kate and Kath on the truck


The border crossing was painless and suddenly we were in Thailand, mucky brown from all the dust mingled with sweat! The air-con vans to Bangkok were a blessing.

Time to get some serious shopping in, catch a film with waitress service in VIP seats and then we fly to Phuket tomorrow to soak up the sun and catch up on some much needed sleep.

See you all in a week!

Majestic Angkor

Getting up at 5am was worth it. We'll let the photos do the talking...

Sunrise at Angkor Wat


Our group at the Tomb Raider temple

Titanic

What a journey! It began with a super early at 5.45 to get to the speed boat launch for the trip to Siem Reap, home of Angkor Wat. The restaurant near the launch was somewhat inappropriately named "Titanic".

The journey was beautiful: through Cambodian countryside, past floating villages; shacks lined the river banks, raised several metres on stilts to escape the wet season waters when the flow of the river reverses and goes from the Mekong delta to fill up lake Tonlé Sap.

The boat was like an enhanced narrow boat and we spent the early morning sunbathing on the roof. About midday, Kate and I went downstairs to escape the burning sun, only to be greeted by a 'pop' as the rear of the boat filled rapidly with acrid, black smoke. The pilot and crew, who didn't, or wouldn't, speak a word of English, went to the back and tinkered with their spanners as we floated aimlessly. We went outside to the fresher, but baking air. There was no land in sight and the boat started listing significantly to one side. After thirty minutes, the sun drove us inside, only to discover water seeping up through the bolts on the steel floor. No lifejackets. No lifeboats. No working radio. No phone signal. The crew were nowhere to be seen, still fiddling with the engine. People were becoming noticably agitated.

An hour later, there was a click. Then, a thud. The engines chugged into gear and the boat sped forward, to everyone's applause and the bilge pumps started working overtime.

We were transferred to several smaller boats when we hit the northern side of the lake to take us up-river, past the amazing floating villages, and incredible poverty, towards the pick-up point where hoardes of tuk-tuks, beggars, pick-pockets and bag porters all clammered for our dollars.

We made it safely to Siem Reap but in my worst nightmares, we're still trying to swim for shore.

The Killing Fields

There are several sites around Phnom Penh which tell two stories: one of a majestic, powerful empire which ruled one thousand years ago, covering much of south-east Asia and build the temples such as Angkor Wat; and another of a period from 1965 to 1998 where first the Americans and then people of their own flesh and blood, the Khmer Rouge, systematically murdered the Cambodians.

It's hard to put any of this into words, apart from to say that today was a day where we really discovered the inexplicable evil that humans can do. Even more so than visiting the various war sites around Vietnam.

Everyone was silent as we walked around the prison S-21, now a museum, which housed Pol Pot's interoggaters and torturers. The pictures on the walls showed the place, and the bodies, as they were found when the Vietnamese finally kicked out the Khmer Rouge from Phnom Penh in 1979.

We followed the route along which the prisoners were taken to one of the nearby killing fields. A commemoration tower stands straight, filled with 8,000 battered skulls, all dug from the surrounding fields. The holes of the mass graves are still visible with the occasional bone and cloth still embedded in the hardened mud.

Surprisingly, many of the high ranking leaders of the Khmer Rouge hold government positions after defecting and have never been brought to account for their crimes.

Cambodia is still suffering, although since the death of Pol Pot in 1998 things are slowly improving. The wars destroyed much of the farmland and irrigation systems: so crucial in such a sweltering hot country. The land mines are still killing and maiming although through international efforts most seem to have been recovered.

There are beggars everywhere. Many are children and many others horribly deformed or mutilated from the war. Despite that, the Cambodians are mostly incredibly friendly and the kids, once you get past the "One dollar. You buy my postcards? One dollar." line, have a great sense of fun and humour.

Goodnight, Vietnam!

It's time to pack our bags and head west into deepest, darkest Cambodia.

We've successfully met up with our tour which leaves tomorrow at 5.45am. No time to write about Saigon now but it's been wonderful and a fascinating, and at times horrible, insight into Vietnam's history.

We may not have time to do any updates over the next week so you'll have to wait for the plethora when we arrive in Bangkok in seven days.

Cu Chi

The big daddy of the Vinh Moc tunnels: Cu Chi's tunnels are a huge network spanning hundreds of kilometres underground.

They were built by the Viet Minh (the same as the Viet Cong, but an earlier name for them) during the French War. Subsequently, they were used to fight against the Americans, to devastating effect. The tunnels were so well hidden that one of them famously had an entrance/exit in the middle of an American base. It stayed undiscovered for years.

The day was moving and one that really hit home the horror of war; more so than anywhere else we visited.

We were shown a vast array of booby traps, designed to horrificly injure, debilitate, disfigure and sometimes, if the victim was lucky, to kill. From simple spikes stuck in a rice paddy and hidden by the water, to welcome US parachutists as they land; to traps which encased someone's leg, ramming spikes down the entire length; to beds of eight inch iron nails which would swing down and impale a US soldier kicking open a door.

Dotted around were rifleman points: holes in the ground, camouflaged by a wooden lid covered in leaves. A Viet Cong would wait to hear the Americans pass over before popping his or her head out and shooting them in the back. A tunnel led them to safety. The Vietnamese are significantly smaller than Westerners: Mark could only get in this far!



Tanks were left abandoned, their tracks blown off by a mine. We could still see the bullet marks around the sides and turret, tracing the path of the American occupants trying to flee.

Only 100m of the tunnels are open: the rest are home to snakes and other wild animals. 100m was enough.

Entrances every 30m were used by most of the tour group to escape the cloying humidity and the immense claustrophobia as the clay walls clamped down on our limbs. We crawled through virtual darkness on our hands and knees. The only awareness of others in the tunnel came from headbutting the bum of the person in front as they navigated through the blackness.

It was eerie and disturbing to emerge out of the tunnels into a small hut to the sounds of nearby gunfire. It was only the nearby rifle range but the noise was phenomenal and we felt like we'd gone back in time thirty years. It was only a glimpse of what it was like during the war, but enough to know that we never want to be involved.

Given this, Mark was reluctant to have a go on the rifle range but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Paying an exhorbitant five dollars got five bullets for an AK47 which Mark fired into a cow at 20 metres. A picture of a cow that is...the rumours of firing bazookas at grazing cows appeared unfounded.

Mui Ne

At first appearances, Mui Ne is pretty dull. It's a 15km strip of beach resorts and not much else.

Mark wanted to do some windsurfing but the only place nearby was extortionate. But, with a bit of exploring we had an amazing time.

The geography of the place is fantastic. Our first morning we walked up the 'Fairy Spring': a small river that flows from a waterfall to the beach, just past our resort. The ankle-deep water is rust red, the colour coming from the sand it flows over. Small sand-dunes line the sides, interspersed with eerie limestone rock formations.

By 10am it was getting too hot to do much apart from hit the beach and soak up some rays. The clouds covered the sky after lunchtime and we walked the "2km" down the road, according to our greasy-haired hotel receptionist, to the nearest ATM. 1.5 hours and maybe 5 miles later we finally came across the fishing village. We have never seen so many boats in one place.

We found the ATM, had a refreshing Bia Hoi (cheapest beer so far: 30p for 2 litres but that doesn't take into account paying for the plastic chair which Mark broke as he leant backwards to everyone elses hilarity) and began the trek back to give our receptionist a lesson in distance estimation.

The next day we went sand-sledging. A short moto-taxi ride away from Mui Ne are the imaginatively named "Red Sand Dunes". Hoardes of kids surround you as you approach with hard plastic sheets shouting "Sir!", "Miss!", "Come sleding with me!". They are, of course, all adorably cute and pout terribly when you choose someone else to take you up onto the slopes.

Kim and Linh were our guides. They throw sand down the slope to make it faster and then load the sledge with sand to increase the weight and prevent you from slipping off. Then, it's a big push and you're flying down to the bottom before traipsing to the next, even bigger slope. The photos are great but it's hard to find a memory card reader round here to upload the photos.

One and a half hours of walking up and down the dunes and we were sweaty and shattered but the kids were still running rings around us. Better than any theme park and at 1.5USD for both of us, so much cheaper!

We're the Easy Riders!

Should we? Shouldn't we?

Within minutes of stepping out of our hotel in Dalat we were accosted by two 'Easy Riders'. They are a self-regulated group of private tour guides, based in Dalat, who ride large, old motorbikes and show tourists the 'real' Vietnam.

We were far from convinced about spending a few days on the back of a bike (knowing that our parents would kill us, if the motorbikes didn't), especially at 50USD a day, per person. We also didn't have much time. The best route is into the central highlands and down to Saigon over four days but we wanted to go to Mui Ne and only had a maximum of two days so we could fit everything in Saigon.

After some soul searching over some Dalat coffee (delicious stuff) we decided against it...went outside and five minutes later had studied the testimonial books of a couple of riders and signed up on the dotted line. Doh!

The trip didn't start well when the guides we had signed up with didn't show. In their place were two other bikers who swore that the other guides had gone on a different tour but had asked them to take us instead. They knew all our details so seemed legit and we decided to go ahead.

It was totally worth it.

Our guides were wonderful: Mui, whose family fought for the southern Vietnamese army in the war and so can't get any other job and Sinh, an ex-professional footballer who had to stop playing after a nightmare tackle destroyed his knee and dreams of meeting Beckham. Mui had a dodgy joke for every occasion and Sinh was full of stories and sayings from Vietnam's history. They taught us so much about Vietnam and their people as well as making us laugh, lots. If anyone wants some good motorbike guides, let us know and we'll put you in touch.

They took us to so many amazing places off the tourist trail. We sat with tobacco farmers drinking (or in Mark's case, pretending to drink) Vietnamese tea; joked with the family of a minority village who gave us a present as we left of a pumpkin gourd they use to store a variety of liquids; saw silk worms munching on mulberry leaves; visited coffee and tea plantations; drank more tea at a tea factory; chatted to granite miners; saw a local brick factory; watched rice paper being made; harvested rice with some local women. Plus, all the natural beauty of the route from waterfalls to mountains to man-made lakes and islands, without another tourist in site.

Farmer Mark


For breakfast and lunch we went to small cafes and our guides ordered us some amazing feasts, usually for about 20,000 dong each: just over 1USD. We had prawns, squid, beef, pork, all deliciously marinated with a few chillies thrown in for good measure!



Mui Ne now beckons for a bit of R&R.

Indiana Goddard Part II: The Canyon of Doom

It's the dry season. In the three weeks that we've been in Vietnam, it's only rained twice.

But, in the words of our own guide, Kanh, the river was the highest and fastest that he's ever seen, even in the wet season. And we were about to abseil off cliffs into the rapids. Great idea, Mark. The water authorities had decided to open a dam somewhere up river for repairs and the river had been raging for the last couple of weeks.

The start was easy enough with a practice abseil down a slope. 20m down the path and it was the real thing, although pretty easy and we zoomed down.

It should have been a 20 minute walk to the next cliff with a simple wade across the river. After nearly getting swept to Saigon our guide decided to try and find a different route further along. We ended up tying a rope across the river and attaching ourselves to it by carabiner so we could haul ourselves across.

From there, it just got crazier. Normal paths were flooded so we threw ourselves into the rapids, got carried along by the current for 30 seconds and then frantically paddled to the shore; fought through overgrown jungle until the normal paths could be used; walked across fallen tree trunks; all with a bit of rock climbing thrown in for good measure.

The next abseil was simple but ended in the river. Stray too far from the cliff edge and the current would take you, so we gingerly edged along until we could wade out.

A 7m jump into the rapids was followed by abseiling down a waterfall. Kate did the jump, but opted out of the waterfall abseil after Mark tried it first and made a bit of a hash of it. The water pounds your legs and your waist, the rock is deadly slippery and it gets more and more intense until suddenly the water is flowing over your head and you can finish the abseil with relative ease.

The waterslide involved a treacherous walk into the open river where our guide held us by the scruff of our lifejackets and then let go! We were sucked along by the rapids, down a little waterfall and then thrown underwater to safely emerge in a slightly calmer pool. Calmer meaning we could just about swim to a rock for safety before throwing ourselves parallel to the current to grab onto the safety rope and be hauled to dry land!

The final adventure is known as the washing machine. Absolute madness. You abseil down 10m or so and then let go into a raging waterfall, only to get spat out after a few submerged seconds. Mark's sandal came off in the torrent but he reached down to grab it, banging his head in the process [don't worry Mum & Dad, I'm okay!]. The safety rope came in handy as there was no way we could swim out of the current before it took us down another waterfall. With the rope stretched taut, we swam to a rock in the middle of the pool and from there gingerly made it to the river bank. Kate decided to become the official photographer and stay on dry land!

Our guides were superb...part of Phat Tire Ventures if anyone is in this part of the world...highly recommended! Even though it was crazy everything was done really professionally and they really looked after us.

North and Central Vietnam Photos

Sailing on a junk in Halong Bay:


Seeing Hué via motorbike:


Market mayhem in Hué, all for a banana!:


Travelling to the demilitarised zone...the Vinh Moc tunnels...:


...and a guard tower on the Ben Hai river, separating North and South:


Stunning Hoi An:


Down to the beach for a bit of R&R and diving:


Canyoning!!!!!!!!!!!!

Taking the plunge

Woohoo! We've just become qualified open water divers.

We took a four day PADI course which involved classroom lessons (turning our brains back on was hard), swimming pool sessions and four dives as well as a written test. Smarty-pants Mark got 100% although Kate was close behind on 96%.

The diving was amazing; Nha Trang is meant to be Vietnam's premier dive site. Swimming amongst the corals, fish and other sea creatures was stunning.

No room at the inn

Arriving at Nha Trang was stressful. The overnight bus journey didn't have air con so we arrived at 6am, sweaty, icky and desperately in need of a shower.

Unfortunately, we couldn't find a room anywhere. Because of 'Tet' (Chinese New Year) all the Vietnamese have come on holiday here. Plus, it's good luck to get as much money in the month of Tet as possible so prices have doubled.

We tried over twenty guest-houses and hotels until Kate managed to kick a lovely family out of their own room so we could sleep there for 5 dollars a night! It's only a mattress on the floor of a basic room but the 7 people that did cram in there are now spread out along the balcony, 'buddha room, corridors and kitchen. We feel quite guilty everytime we walk through.

Saying that, the family are fantastic. We have eaten with them a couple of times now and they've plied us with beer and chilli-laden food. They don't speak a word of english so communication is limited to us rubbing our stomachs and going 'yum'.