28th January - Quy Nhon

I had a pleasant few days in Hoi An, largely thanks to staying in a friendly relaxed hotel, but although a pretty town, I found the number of tourists oppressive and today I was ready to leave.  This morning I had my last ride on the bike.  Having had no response from my posts on Craigslist and Travelfish I'd decided to donate it to a local charity.  I rode into town to meet with Nick Keegan, the director of The Kianh Foundation, to hand over the bike.  I’d located this British charity on the internet and tracked down their offices earlier in the week.  Nick was a nice chap, a Scot from Edinburgh, who’s been in Vietnam for 6 years having left his civil service in the UK out of sheer boredom.  He’s now married to a Vietnamese woman and seemingly happy.  He said how much Hoi An has changed with the massive influx of tourists, and how the locals have become ever more fixated on getting the tourists’ dollars.  The charity, which provides therapies for children across the province with physical and mental disabilities, used to work within a government-run orphanage within Hoi An but the bureaucracy, corruption and eventually obstruction from all the petty officials, envious of the charity’s success in getting things done, became impossible.  The charity is currently waiting for their newly-built day centre, just south of Hoi An, to open.  I was pleased to be able to donate my bike to such a worthwhile charity knowing that my donation would not be stolen by some government official, and in a small way to be able to give something back to Vietnam that I have enjoyed so much.  Nick said that they would either keep the bike for the organisation to use or give it to one of their more impoverished families.  But when I left I was truly sad to say goodbye to my bike which has become like an old friend.

I walked back to the hotel, checked out of my room and waited for the minibus that was to take me to Quy Nhon.  With everyone returning to, or from, their families following Tet, the buses and trains were already full by the time I enquired at the start of the week.  But instead of a minibus, a woman on a motorscooter arrived and told me to get on the back with my huge backpack – no helmet provided.  She took me to the minibus a couple of kilometres away.  My stuff was loaded in the back of the bus and I was told to sit on the back row of seats.  We then set off for a bone-crushing, nerve-jangling bouncy ride for six hours.  Whenever we entered a village or town we slowed so the driver’s assistant could shout out into the street to tout for more passengers.  Before long, our 15 seater minibus was crammed with 28 people (I counted them), and the driver was going at a ridiculous speed swerving out from behind much bigger buses and trucks to overtake them on blind corners etc.  I had felt so much safer and more comfortable on my bike.  I recalled what Nick had told me this morning, that over the four days of Tet, 137 people had been killed on Vietnam’s roads.  I felt certain we would add to those statistics.  Within an hour the old woman beside me was throwing up into a plastic bag which was then summarily thrown out the window (no fun if you happened to be a motorcyclist trying to overtake at that moment).  Then a woman in the row in front of me was vomiting, then another.  The poor woman beside me threw up six or seven times over the course of the journey.  By the end of the journey four adults, all women, and one child (did I mention the two screaming babies?) had vomited.  Happily I was beside an open window.  The longest six hours I can remember. 

It was dark by the time we got to Quy Nhon (pronounced Hweenion) where we were dropped in a random petrol station.  No taxis to be had, and everyone I asked for directions either looked away (which I have learned means ‘I don’t know’) or nodded (also meaning ‘I don’t know’), so I walked in the general direction of where I thought it might be.  Eventually I found the sea and saw the hotel sign a couple of kilometres up the beach.  Long walk with the heavy backpack but when I got there I was given a nice room on the 10th floor overlooking the beach with the sound of crashing waves.  Comfort again; phew.  

Year of the Dragon

Midnight fireworks over the Thu Bon river, Hoi An

very spectacular show it was too

After midnight everyone was in front of their house burning joss paper or hell notes.  Smoke everywhere.  Joss/hell notes are fake money which, on burning, are turned into real money destined for one's ancestors.



22nd January – Hoi An

Hoi An

If I’m ever in Hue again I’ll stay at the Camellia Hotel again.  Lovely staff, extensive breakfasts, comfortable rooms and very central.  I was sad to leave.  Pretty good ride to Hoi An this morning; very few trucks but everyone and their dog (or pig in some cases) were on their motorbikes.  I had a stroke of luck and then a stroke of bad luck.  The good luck occurred as I looked up at the mountain pass between Hue and Danang looming in front of me and seeing a petrol station and thinking “when did I last fill up?”  There are no gauges on this bike, one has to look in the tank.  I was fairly sure I’d filled up before getting to Hue so went on, till a couple of miles later I saw another petrol station and decided that, to be one the safe side, I should check.  As I slowed to enter the gas station my engine spluttered to a stop.  I wasn’t even at the pump and had to push it the rest of the way, but sure enough the tank was bone dry.  The bad luck came about 5 km later when I was going through a village.  Almost every village was having a market today (it’s New Year at midnight tonight) so I was going moderately slowly through the middle of it when this motorbike in front of me to the right abruptly turns left right across my path.  I tried to swerve in front of him because but my right foot clipped the front of his wheel and both of us came to a stop, though neither came off our bikes.  I was furious but decided to go on.  My foot hurt but nothing bad.  Unfortunately, my big toe which must have taken the entire impact has since swollen up and is now black and throbbing.   Crushed but not broken, I think.  Anyway, can’t complain, it’s the only accident I have had.  Now that I am in Hoi An I plan to sell the bike.  In fact when I mentioned this to the hotel reception staff they were all very interested and, sniffing a possible bargain, came out to have a look at it.  But I think I might get a better price if I cleaned it up a bit.

Hoi An is a picture postcard, having been spared by both sides during the American/Vietnam war.  Its centre is teaming with tourists of course but it certainly is pretty.  My hotel is between the centre of town and the beach so I am loath the sell the bike too quickly because it could be useful getting me about over the next few days.  So this is the end of my motorbike adventure, I think.  I shall be sad to say goodbye to the bike which has given much pleasure and a fair bit of grief.  No punctures at all since leaving Dien Bien Phu with that new outer back tyre; I just wish I’d got a new one sooner.  Tonight there will be celebrations in the centre of town, a dragon dance and, at midnight, a countdown and then fireworks.  So I shall have to force myself to stay up late for once and hobble back into town.

Getting ready for Tet, yellow chysanthemums on sale everywhere 

Chùc Mưñg Nἁm Mởi – Happy New Year!

Yesterday began with the roads looking very wet and there was a tiresome spray in the air as I started off around 8.  The spray meant a lot of mud on my visor and having to wipe it off with my hand.  Still, it eventually stopped and the temperature rose, making it quite a warm ride.  Road very flat with an inside lane for motorbikes and fewer trucks on the road, so I got to Hue fairly quickly, arriving in the city around 12.30.  Almost immediately I got completely lost amidst the heavy motorbike traffic.  Still, I eventually found the Camellia Hue Hotel and was given a room on the 8th floor with a good view.  Well equipped too with safety deposit box, its own computer, fruit, bottled water etc.  After my shower I gave in some clothes to be laundered.  Had a quick lunch of rather weird seafood salad and then headed out to the old citadel and the Imperial Enclosure in which I walked around for several hours. 

Some fabulous buildings, though many of them had been destroyed by American bombs.  Away from the fortified gate there were very few visitors so it was like being in a nice peaceful park.  It's quite huge so I managed to get a bit lost. 

Do they have Dr Who here?

In the evening I walked to the small concentration of tourist restaurants and hotels looking for the one that had been established by a Japanese philanthropist in order to support Hue street kids.  Couldn’t find it but opted instead for a packed restaurant called La Carambole and sat amongst a tour group of New Yorkers, mostly middle to older aged and Jewish from what I gathered, a couple on my left who talked incessantly about their food and two delightful women in their 60s from Woodchester, NY, on my right with whom I talked for most of the evening:  Ruth, a retired teacher of children with special needs and Susan a fund-raiser for a Jewish philanthropical organisation.  They were quite reserved but cultured and interesting, and I enjoyed having someone to talk to (though I wonder sometimes whether I am coming across a bit strong in my eagerness to have a conversation with someone).  I have to say I was glad not to be doing what they are doing: one night here, two nights there and then on to the next plane.  I had tuna steak, greens cooked in garlic, and rice.  On the way back to my hotel I heard some people calling out my name.  I assumed they were hailing another James but turned to look anyway and there were the two reclusive German women from the Halong Bay trip whose names, I am ashamed to say, I never knew and still don’t know.  Anyway, we were all thrilled to see one another and it felt like meeting old friends we had known for a lifetime.  What a lot we had to discuss!  Travelling seems to make refugees of us all.

18th January – Vinh City to Dong Hoi

In much better spirits this evening.  The dreaded long ride to Dong Hoi today wasn’t so bad.  A bit of spray in the air for the first hour or two but I kept the visor down the whole way and adjusted to poorer visibility.  Eyes much better this evening.  Fewer trucks and a better road meant I could go faster.  Also, for quite a long way, there was a small motorbike lane allowing us to pass on the inside of the huge lorries – hair-raising (if I had any) but it enabled me to keep up a good pace and I managed to cover the 200k in good time. 

Clearly there are no laws on pollution here.  Most of the lorries belch black smoke and all carry their own elaborately tuned and incredibly loud horn.  Seeing as I appear to be the only person using their wing mirror I can usually see them coming before they deafen me with their horn.  The buses are worse with the drivers priding themselves how close a shave they can have with an oncoming truck and how loud their horns are.  They pull out around bends and even when they can clearly see a huge lorry coming from the other direction.  The accident rate is apparently very high and no wonder.  I’ve been told that learning to drive is optional; cars and bikes are often sold with the driving licence thrown in.  And as for noise pollution… the horn blasts can be heard all night, especially in the cities. 

My first 'road kill' today, as they are called.  A chicken came running across the road from my left while I was belting down the road just outside a village.  Didn't see it till the last moment and with a lorry on my tail, I couldn't even stop afterwards.  Just felt something hit the wheel.  Maybe it survived; I hope so.  It does beg the inevitable question though: Why did the chicken ...?

This is how to buy bananas

I’m now staying at the Saigon Quang Binh Hotel in Dong Hoi, a very pleasant town very near the coast on the Nhat Le river.  It was flattened by the Americans but has been rebuilt.  Lots of huge Chinese nets in the river.  I’m sure the weather has lifted my spirits.  I’ve just walked along the river and into a wonderful market in just my shirtsleeves.  It’s suddenly so much warmer.  I’m glad because I can begin to ditch some of the warmer clothes I bought in the mountains.  Clearly few tourists stop here because I got a lot of stares and smiles from people, and ‘Hello’s from children brave enough to try it out on me.  Everyone here, as they were in Hanoi, is very much gearing up for Tet, the four-day Vietnamese New Year celebrations next week.  All over the place one sees people on their motorbikes transporting small mandarin trees weighed down with ripe fruit, or plum trees in blossom.  Both are traditional at Tet.  Decorations and special foods are being bought for the biggest festival of the year.  Seeing as nothing is open for four days I was advised to bunker down somewhere so hope to be in Hoi An the whole time.   

Mandarin tree on motorbike in Hanoi

17th January – Vinh City

I had a good visit to Hanoi, staying in a comfortable hotel that quickly felt like home.  A bit of a hike into the Old Quarter by taxi but nice to be away from the hubbub.  Before my night at the opera I visited the Women’s Museum which was interesting in terms of the very varied family relations especially within the hill tribes, some of which are matriarchal, but ironically the first exhibit was all to do with marriage and how important it is to women.  The concert was interesting.  A lot of expats and tourists in the stalls mixed in with Vietnamese though none of them were particularly dressed up, as I had expected and vaguely hoped.  I’d even bought a silk tie for about £2 so felt a bit overdressed.  People in the audience were talking out loud and using their mobile phones to text.  The orchestra was conducted by a Japanese chap who seemed very competent but the band itself was not that wonderful.  The strings were often poorly in tune with one another and the brass were all over the place and made painfully obvious mistakes at several points.  They made rather a mess of the Brahms Variations on a Theme by Haydn but seemed more comfortable with the straight Haydn concertos, the first of which was a piano concerto performed by an eleven year old boy who was extraordinary.  His cadenzas were not hugely appropriate to the period of the music but they were technically brilliant. 

The French-built Hanoi Opera House

Next day I visited the Ethnographic Museum which was not far from my hotel.  It’s a wonderful museum and I found it interesting to learn more about some of the hill tribes I have seen during my travels in the mountains.  Had lunch in the museum restaurant and then went back to the hotel. Always a relief to get away from all the honking and pollution of the streets.

At the end of the week I went on an organised tour to Halong Bay, a world heritage site due to its extraordinary karsts, over 2000 of them, that loom steeply out of the water.  It was nice to be organised by someone else for a while.  Had to get up around 6.30 so I could be ready to be picked up by minibus by 7.15.   Wet, foggy, rather grim morning.  Eventually got into the city through the rush hour and then we gradually picked up the other guests. We were told that there would be only 13 of us rather than the 30 that the boat can hold.  These included a middle-aged Australian couple, garrulous Geoff and Kerry who were lovely, and their third child Maddie (15); a young Australian man and woman, of Chinese descent, Edward and Eva, who were very quick to tell us that they were brother and sister and not a couple.  Two highly attractive young women - Hannah from Oxford and the sister of her Vietnamese boyfriend (who they were not travelling with) Lynne, probably Lin actually.  Finally there was a rather odd Italian man called Antonio who instantly reminded me of Joel Grey in the film version of Cabaret, camp with Berkoff-like expressions, and a pair of very quiet middle-aged German women who very much kept to themselves.  It seemed as though I was the most sociable of everyone and talked and talked to everyone over the two days. Very unlike me; I must have been desperate for company. 

It took four hours to get to Halong Bay but had stopped raining by the time we got on board the boat.  After checking into our cabins we had lunch when of course we really got to meet one another. In the afternoon we were taken by smaller boat to a huge three-chambered cave with stalactites and stalagmites which was very impressive and worth seeing, despite the hordes of tourists. God knows what it must be like when the tourist boats are full.

After this some of us did some kayaking but I hadn’t brought any shorts etc so went back to the boat to read.  In the evening we had supper together where I shared the bottle of Dalat wine I had found in my cabin (the only person given any which was odd), but then, when I went to bed, I found that my duvet cover looked dirty and didn’t even smell clean.   So I found the tour guide Hai and asked if it could be changed.  This he did without a fuss but it soured the atmosphere between us slightly.  Slept pretty well though.

The next day we were taken by small boat to a karst with a small beach and 350 steps that led to a look-out on the top.  Antonio and the German women didn’t come.  A great view from the top but still rainy and overcast.  When we got back from the beach we were given a perfunctory cooking class of how to make a spring roll, followed by lunch while the boat returned to harbour.  We set off for Hanoi again, a long exhausting trip somehow.  I was the last to be dropped at their hotel but everyone was very sweet, saying how much fun it had been to meet me etc.  Lin, who’s a second year medical student in Melbourne, even asked for my email so that she can keep in touch.  I don’t suppose she will but it was nice of her to ask. 

Yesterday, Monday, I left Hanoi, heading south to Thanh Hoa (pronounced Tang Hwa) – 170k.  I was given a big send-off from Mr Vung and the hotel staff and promptly went round the corner to take the bike for an oil change.   It took an age getting to the edge of Hanoi and I got lost finding the A1 highway so this took up a lot of time.  The highway was good and fast at first but then deteriorated and became not only broken up but heavy with trucks and buses, the dust and pollution dreadful.  Stopped just before Ninh Binh for a rice dish that was a nice change from pho.  Then headed on.  Got to Thanh Hoa around 3.30 filthy and tired.   After I’d found the hotel and had my beloved shower, black gunk came out from the corners of my eyes onto the towel.  An hour later there was more.  I guess the eyes have a clever way of cleaning themselves, but they were itchy for the rest of the day.  Had dinner at the next door’s hotel restaurant (carp and greens; not great but quite tasty).  Hotel room incredibly noisy from all the traffic and the honking outside.  Not looking forward to more road travel like today over the next three days.

Dirt from the road

Just 140k today but was oppressive nonetheless.   Nothing to look at or stop for, just one uneven, dusty, congested, polluted, incredibly noisy, nerve-racking road!  Nothing to recommend it at all, but it got me from A to B.  And B today is Vinh City where I now am.  The worst is the eyes.  The visor is next to useless because it’s already too scratched up, so I just wear my specs but they don’t stop the dust and pollution getting into the eyes.  I had to stop today to use a tissue to clean them they were weeping so much.  Yech.  I’ve just washed them in water using the tiny eyebath from the huge medical pack I’ve been lugging around, using bottled water of course.  Anyway tomorrow promises to be worse.  From here I go to Dong Hoi which is almost 200k.  The next day is almost as long but at least that takes me to Hue, the ancient capital, where I will be for three nights.  And then there’s a relatively short ride to Hoi An after that where I will be for about a week.  At least it’s getting noticeably warmer as I head south and it hasn’t rained properly since leaving Hanoi, thank god; it only sprayed a bit today.   I’m now looking forward to selling the bike.  I’ve had enough of this heavy traffic down the coast.  At least in Laos and the mountains, though remote, offered beautiful scenery and little traffic by comparison. 

11th January Hanoi

After breakfast I got a taxi to the Opera House, knowing it was near the Old Quarter.  Bought a ticket for a Haydn concert tomorrow evening performed by the Vietnam National Symphony Orchestra.  The opera house was built by the French a century ago and is based on one in Paris.  It promises to be a memorable evening.  I then wandered around the busy, noisy, confusing streets of the Old Quarter.  Bought a revolutionary poster (on canvas) to add to my small collection.  Had lunch on a street corner, huddled with the locals: squid fritter, salty fish, greens and rice (20,000d, about 70p).  Scrum.

Walked on and saw the rather grey gothic cathedral, closed for renovations but eventually managed to find a way in via workmen.  Then on to the huge Ho Chi Minh mausoleum complex which I walked around and managed to catch the changing of the guard.  

Ho Chi Minh mausoleum guard

By this point I had made my way back up to the southern end of Ho Tay (West Lake) so caught a cab back to the hotel.  There I met up with Mr Vung, the front desk manager, with whom I had a long chat about doing an overnight tour of Halong Bay on a boat.  I was only there a couple of hours before having to take another taxi back into town to meet Hieu (brother of Thao who was teaching me a bit of Vietnamese before I left Bristol) at a big popular restaurant he’d suggested.  We had a very pleasant evening together.  He ordered a mixture of delicious local dishes.  I wish I had asked him to write them down because they were very good.  Hieu had spent 18 months in the UK, living in Preston and studying for an MBA, so speaks excellent English.  Recently married, he now works as an engineer and while he would like to buy a separate place for him and his wife he says that house prices in Hanoi are very high so they are having to wait.  After supper we took a taxi to Hoan Kiem lake where we sat in a rooftop restaurant having tea and admiring the view.

Hieu, overlooking Hoan Kiem lake

10th January – Coming down the mountains

It’s great to be in Hanoi, safe, dry and warm after three rather cold, wet and heavy-going days in the mountains.  I left Dien Bien Phu on the 7th but before I’d even left the city limits had noted a clunking noise coming from the engine area of the bike.  Rather than risk going any further into the mountains, I turned around and found a Xe May (garage) where they diagnosed that I needed a new chain and sprocket assembly.  The young man did this very efficiently while his retired father and I sat watching him, occasionally nodding at one another.  So I set off again an hour later but with a new back tyre and new chain and sprocket. 

Even the local mountain (Black Thai) people are cold

Before long I had to stop to scrunch up my thin poncho and put it under my jacket (like a tiny duvet) to keep me warm.  Then stopped at a very Hmong village and bought some gloves and a woolly hat to wear under the helmet.  These helped but then I entered a wet cold cloud so had to stop to put on my new rain jacket and trousers which I then wore for the rest of the day.  It was a well paved road though I could only go slowly due to all the turns and gear changes.  

Had a bowl of pho for lunch which helped warm me a bit.  Then set off into a much more remote area.  It was very beautiful and the road remained good despite being a lot smaller.  I was feeling glad I had taken this route and at about 2.00 with only 28km to go was confident I’d be in Than Uyen by 3.30.  

But then I hit road works.  Here they don’t create a slip road to allow traffic to continue to get by, the traffic is expected to just negotiate whatever is there.  And instead of doing, say, a kilometre at a time, they chew up 20km, creating a wasteland, and then get to work on odd bits.  So I had to drive in heavy mud, runny mud, over rocks and between construction vehicles as they were working.  The wet mud areas were the most exhausting because they are slippery and the last thing I want is for all my stuff to go over into the mud.  

At least this bit was flat but a bit obstructed

It took three hours to go the last 25 km and my arms were aching by the time I entered Than Uyen around 5.15, a sort of dull nerve ache that starts in the shoulders and spreads down the arms.  Than Uyen itself turned out to be a town without charm.  I found it hard to find any form of guesthouse on my first pass through the town but then came across a fairly basic place where I stayed.  I was unable to find a restaurant and the one place that was selling food could only offer me more pho.  So that’s what I had for the second time that day.  The guesthouse was filthy and cold and I slept in all my clothes.


The next morning was cold and misty again so I put on extra layers of shirts and was wearing my plastic jacket and trousers.  All went well, the road was patchy but not bad, except that I came across a sign after about 30km that said Yen Bai 230km when the map had said about 160 for the whole journey.  Nonetheless I went through some stunning countryside around Mu Cang Chai.  

Rice paddies near Mu Cang Chai

But then the road went up and up again into the mountains and before long I was in thick wet cloud for miles and miles.  Visibility was down to just a few metres in places.  It was wet, dark and rather scary because there were few other vehicles, except for the occasional truck looming out of the cloud.  Then when I thought the road was beginning to descend I came across more road works, only this was wet slushy mud for as far as I could see.   At one point the engine conked out, I had both feet in slushy mud and it was dark with fog.  I could hear nothing and I was on the top of a mountain.  I was really quite scared and despairing at this moment.  But I managed to get through that section though came across more road works.  This time, however, there were other people trying to negotiate the mud and I was at least beneath the fog and could see where I was heading.  The bike, my clothes and my shoes were covered in thick mud, and I was freezing for the rest of the day.  I tried stopping here and there to warm up but, other than running up and down the road or eating another chocolate biscuit, there wasn’t much I could do.  I just wanted to get off these mountains which I realised I’d been on since leaving Vientiane.  The journey was as long as the signs had said so it turned out to be at least 255 km or more.  


I was freezing and exhausted, teeth chattering, by around 4.00 when I got to Yen Bai which turned out to be very disappointing for a provincial capital.  Apart from my 20 minute stop for pho I had been driving for nearly 8 hours.  And then I couldn’t find a hotel.  Everyone I asked shook their heads or directed me to a flee pit could not possibly have stayed in.   I looked round three guesthouses but they were all grim.  Then at last someone directed me to a suburb back over the bridge on the road I’d come into town on, where I found a hotel that had certainly seen better days but was overlooking the river.  This was going to have to do and at 160k (less than £5) it was at least cheap.  But it was so cold and damp.  At around 5pm I went out to find something to eat and got some rice, pork and spinachy greens from three very nice chatty women who thought everything I was trying to say was hilarious.  Another very cold night.  I used the kettle provided in the room to boil water which I then chucked out and used the residual heat from the kettle to warm the bed.  No sheets, just an under-blanket and an eiderdown/duvet thing which didn’t look as if had been washed in a while. I slept in my clothes for a second night.

On the 9th I woke to another cold misty morning and when I set off at 7.30 I found the roads were wet and slimy.  Rain and dust make for a slippery combination so I had to drive carefully.  The muddy spray from the road made in hard to see; I had to keep wiping my visor with my glove but the mud simply smeared.  It wasn’t raining exactly but there was a constant spray, so once again, despite all the layers I put on, I quickly got very cold indeed.  I stopped at some god-forsaken place around 9.30 just to warm up and wash off the caked-on mud from my glasses.  The people in the place I’d stopped (café would be a generous word for it) looked bemused at first when I took off my helmet but they soon warmed up and suggested I eat what the woman sitting there at the front had cooked – a sort of white rice noodle pancakes with some black bits inside and a bowl of very tasty pork in a slightly vinegary broth.  It went down a treat and while I was eating this, a young man whom I took to be her son, gave me a small cup of what he said was vodka.  It looked like vodka and was potent all right but had more of a sake flavour.  Not sure it was quite what I was in the mood for at 9.30 in the morning but it was very nice of him.  The man sitting beside me was smoking out of a huge bamboo pipe and kept offering it to me which I declined.  Even if I had been a smoker the bucket he was resting it in was rather off-putting.

When I got back on the bike I was no warmer but had to keep going.  It was really foul weather and the traffic was increasingly heavy with trucks and motorbikes.  At one point I said something out loud and found it so odd to hear someone speak that I responded to myself by saying ‘Oh hello’.  I think I’m going slightly mad.  But I’d managed to book somewhere comfortable in Hanoi and just set my mind on having a shower and getting into warm dry clothes. 
Eventually I crossed a huge bridge and found that I had arrived in Hanoi streets.  Despite feeling cold I certainly felt excited to be entering a city whose name had evoked so much when I was growing up.  Hanoi was depicted as being the capital city of the Viet Cong enemy and here I was entering it on a motorbike.  I saw someone’s motorbike being washed so since mine was caked in mud from the past few days I had mine washed too.  Cost 20k and made a huge difference.  Amazingly it turned out I was not far from Ho Tay or West Lake where my hotel is.  It had been recommended to me by a older American couple I’d met in Luang Prabang as being somewhere a little away from where the tourists are concetrated.  I’d booked a premium room which, at £23 a night, was pushing out the boat a bit but I had lived very cheaply for a few days.  I was given a very comfortable room on the 6th floor.  The air conditioner is able to pump out heat whenever I need it and there is a restaurant on the top (11th) floor which has a spectacular view over West Lake and a very hazy polluted Old Hanoi in the distance.  I spent the rest of the day in my room washing the mud off everything with a wet sock and drying it all using a hairdryer and a cord I’d brought for a washing line.   

5th January – Dien Bien Phu

I've spent the past couple of days in a much better hotel, the Muong Thanh Hotel, relaxing and recuperating after my exertions getting across the border.  Still quite stiff but that's improving.  Eaten well in the excellent hotel restaurant.  Yesterday bought a new outer tyre for the back wheel and feel confident this will cut down on punctures.  Also bought better rain gear. 

It had finally stopped raining when I got up this morning, having slept a lot better (though not brilliantly).  After breakfast I walked into town and visited the main town market where I found some indescribably wriggly worm like things being sold in a bucket; also some Sâu chít (chit depth) which are the larvae of the chit beetle which are found deep in the trunks of diseased trees.  They are stored in alcohol and are a delicacy of the northern mountainous regions of Viet Nam, especially around Dien Bien Phu.  I’m afraid I wasn’t about to try them but apparently they are considered very medicinal (for what I cannot say).  

Sâu chít

Then walked to the Vietnamese war cemetery of the famous battle with the French (who lost) in 1954, a week before I was born.  This decisive battle effectively marked the end of the French colonial occupation of Viet Nam (but which heralded Quiet American involvement).  As with all war cemeteries, this one got me choked up as I walked around.  There was only one other person there, a Vietnamese soldier in uniform.  The gardens around the graves were beautifully landscaped. 

The war museum across the road, however, was closed for what was described as refurbishment though the whole place looked as if the war had just ended and a bomb had recently landed on it.  Presumably they plan to rebuild from scratch.  Had an extensive walk around town.  People generally very friendly, lots of smiles and ‘hello’s.  Had an excellent bowl of pho, stuffed with fresh vegetables, near the bus station.  Did some map planning in the afternoon.  I think I will go back into the mountains, but not up to Sapa which others have said has become a tourist trap.  Anyway I’ve already seen loads of hill tribe villages.  But I think I can get to Than Uyen in one day and then to Yen Bai the next.  None of these places feature in Lonely Planet so there shouldn’t be many tourists there.  Come to think of it, I’ve seen only one other tourist in this town in three days.  After Yen Bai I will head down to Hanoi though I am rather dreading the Hanoi traffic which is supposed to be as bad as anything in Saigon.  Delicious ginger chicken along with water spinach cooked in garlic in the hotel’s restaurant tonight. 

My toughest day

God what a day!  Yesterday was one of the most exhausting days I think I have ever experienced.  I had been sick in Nong Khiaw and was in bed for a day but finally rummaged through a chemists to find myself some anti-biotics which did the trick (yes I got to choose my own).  There was an incident with a cat eating a snake on the threshold of my room and a cockroach the size of my mobile phone during the night but those aside, a happy stay there.  After leaving Nong Khiaw I went through Oudomxai and then spent a night in Muang La in a rather filthy guesthouse but it was less than five quid so can't complain.  But yesterday...
 
The day started off well enough, apart from finding a saucer shaped spider running around my stuff which accounted for the strange feeling during the night that someone was twiddling with my hair.  More weird dreams and didn’t sleep well.  But since there were no restaurants to speak of and nothing open when I got up at 6.30, I had a banana, a chocolate biscuit and some water and was on the road by 7.15.  A lovely ride through a valley beside a river, albeit seeing several impoverished villages along the way.  A mild morning which turned increasingly grey.  At around 9.30 it started to rain but I had time to put on my thin rain poncho.  Trousers got soaked though.  I was in Muang Khoua by 9.30 and stopped for a coffee.  Although I asked for milk, no sugar it was the instant Nescafe stuff which has milk and tons of sugar already in it, but the chap brought me extra condensed milk just in case I wanted it milkier and sweeter.  No matter. 

Muang Khoua, crossing the Nam Ou

At Muang Khoua one has to cross the Nam Ou river (upstream from Nong Khiaw where I was a couple of days ago).  The way this is achieved is by boarding a raft that is then shunted by a boat clamped to its side by its front but which is able to change the position of its aft.  When I got to the other side, knowing I had about 55km to the Vietnamese border, it was immediately apparent that this was going to take some time.  The road was pretty well non-existent even for an unpaved road.  Within half a kilometre I came across a huge pool with a stream running through it which I had to traverse.  Other bikes were managing it but not so laden as mine.  It was nerve-racking but there was no alternative.  I got through without the bike going over, my worse fear, but my right foot went under and filled with water.  Then it was onto an endless dusty dirt road, a few trucks and motorbikes coming from the other direction but very little going in mine.  There was a brief section of mirror smooth paved road which disappointingly ended within two or three kilometres.  Then back to the dirt and potholes, another ford to cross but this one was easier, and in another village I rode my bike over a skimpy suspension bridge about a meter wide and over loose clattering boards. 

The road seemed to go higher and higher with less and less habitation and only the occasional vehicle.  I was beginning to wonder whether I had missed a turn-off or something when I got another puncture.  The amount of swearing I have done while on this bike buggers belief.  There was nothing around and the last village I had seen was at least eight kilometres back.  There was little for it but to push my bike further up the hill.  I came upon a shack on its own and asked in there.  They looked very doubtful and shook their heads saying Vietnam, but they lent me a pump that barely worked and I managed to blow the tire up enough to ride on it.  So off I went and over the brow of the next hill, there was the Lao side of the border.  A waiting woman told me that it opened at 1.00 so I had only  ten minutes to wait but as I was walking back to the bike to get my water I heard a big pop and then a quick hiss from the back tyre which was flat as a pancake again.  No pumping it up this time I realised.  The Lao staff were pleasant enough though had so suggestion as to where the puncture might be fixed.  I would have to walk to the Vietnamese side, 3.5km away over more steep hairpin turns.  A milestone said that Dien Bien Phu, where I was hoping to get tonight, was now 37km away. 

By about 2.00 I was sweating buckets in the Vietnam immigration and customs building.   They insisted I unload everything (though didn’t check my stuff).  Again they had no suggestions for my puncture but merely pointed down the road, suggesting there might be a village a further 3km on.  There was little choice so I started pushing again, using the engine to take me up hills and the brake to slow me down going down.  I went on and on, asking whoever I could find but again there was contradictory advice.  No village appeared.  By 4.00 I was exhausted and beginning to get seriously worried.  The milestone I had just passed said Dien Bien Phu was now only 27km so I had pushed the bike 10km at this point.  My right foot was getting blisters so I put the sock back on which was almost dry. The back of my right leg however was bleeding due to repeated knocks from the left foot pedal as I pushed the bike.  The few people I was able to flag down seemed to be telling me to go on, always another 2 or 3 kilometres.  So I pressed on and found myself in a quarry on either side of the road.  I felt I couldn’t go any further and was beginning to panic, so I approached what seemed to be a semi-permanent building with a couple of motorbikes outside.  A few men were drinking raucously outside.  I thought I’d better get their advice  The oldest among them I think sensed my desperation because he gave me a cup of hot jasmine tea and sat me down.  They all then got to talking and one of them was despatched to get some tyre levers.  Meanwhile I removed all my stuff off the bike again, got my spare inner tube and they removed the back wheel.  The chap returned with the levers and they got to work on it, but it all seemed to take an age.  Eventually, at about 5.30 as the light was fading and after a couple of extraordinarily loud dynamite blasts from the quarry, I was off again.  They would barely take the money I gave them but I insisted that they all deserved a few beers on me.  As I started up the hill from the quarry there was another milestone that said Dien Bien Phu 23km, so I had pushed the bike 14km!

My saviours

  And then it got hard.  The road thereon down the mountain was even worse than the road I’d been on before, with cavernous potholes that were hard to see or anticipate in the increasing dark.  Every Westerner I have met who’s been on a motorbike here says get to a guesthouse before it gets dark whatever you do.  It got increasingly difficult to see especially when I got down into the villages at the bottom of the mountain where children, bicyclists and other motocyclists were weaving all over the road without lights.  Eventually the road seemed more like tarmac though inevitably with potholes still.  I’d forgotten just how many more motorbikes there are in Vietnam compared with Laos.  The road straightened out across a plain of paddy fields on either side.  The trucks were kicking up huge clouds of dust, there was smoke from fires on the sides of the road, and headlights simply made it all the harder to see.  The road became ever more dense with traffic as I approached the city and then…it suddenly started to rain, huge droplets followed by torrential rain.  It was impossible to get to the side of the road and within a few seconds I was drenched anyway.  I thought I’d better plough on and find a hotel as soon as I could. 

By the time I was in the city proper I could barely see.  My visor blurred everything so I just kept my glasses on and tried to wipe them as best I could.  The streets were several inches deep in water, my shoes were full of water, and by this point I was frozen and my teeth were chattering.  I would have stayed anywhere but found a big imposing guesthouse and stood at its threshold almost unable to speak my teeth were chattering so.  So now I am in my room with all my stuff strewn around to dry – maps, wallet, money, guidebooks, clothes, shoes, ponchos...  Happily my backpack under the two ponchos I wrap it in stayed dry so, after a hot shower I was able to put on some dry clothes.  The bed is as hard as a board but I don’t mind.  All I’d eaten today were two small bananas, four chocolate biscuits, a sweet coffee and half a litre of water, so I put on my shorts, sandals, and one of the filthy ponchos that keep the backpack dry and walked to a neighbouring restaurant who gave me chicken bones and rice again.  But I would have eaten half cooked pork entrails at this point.  Just got back to the guesthouse and wanted to record today before it all gets repressed as a bit of a nightmare.  It’s still pouring with rain and, as I write this, as if to round off the day, there is a power cut.  From what I can see, it seems to have affected the entire city.  Happily my laptop can run on its battery.  Today has taught me that from now on I need to avoid such remote places and stay on well-trodden paths, preferably without potholes.  It’s been an adventure though.
This morning it continues to rain but if possible I'll move from this guesthouse (the bedclothes smell bad).  Maybe I can do better...

Nong Khiaw

Nong Khiaw

This cat ate the whole snake outside my room

Lao mums doing what mums do