Smelly Delhi

We awoke ready to face Delhi and take on it's population. As we walked into the street it was 300 times busier than Holi and first off we were struck by the smell; pollution, urine (they go in the street), bad drains and cows. Yes, the holy cows have a free run of the streets and we almost tripped over one chewing curd at our feet. With this bizarre image we headed into the chaos that is the streets of Parahganj and noticed two Western girls wearing a saree from head to foot. Bit tragic we thought, trying to emulate the locals but then we realised that a lot of girls were wearing long baggy tunics - not quite to the extremes that these girls had taken it too but quite beautiful western translations on the uniform of the Indian women. These have largely been adopted to try and reduce the uncomfortable stares from the men and groping that often follows. It's strange though to buy clothes with the objective of making you as unattractive as possible!

New Delhi was a swirling mass of frantic sales pitches, colourful silks and curry smells all of which contributed to a general feeling of frenzied activity. In the evening we went to De Gem restaurant and eased the gorgeous curry down with copious amounts of Kingfisher. Delhi, as we had been warned, was not a particularly nice city and we looked forward to leaving for Jaipur, the pink city on the train the following morning.

New Delhi: The Festival of Colour

We had been winding each other up about India for weeks. Recently we had met a spate of travellers, worn and weary, who carried horror stories of beggers that grab you and won't let you go, men that grab you and won't let go (if you're female), bad transport, evil touts, constant rip-offs and toilet activity on the streets in broad daylight. We began to wonder why we were going at all.

By the time we arrived at Delhi airport at 2am and were frankly quite scared. But we had forgotten that we had already travelled in one of the most dangerous cities in the world (Rio), been ripped off and hassled within an inch of our life in Vietnam and Brazil and already seen the dreadfully maimed beggers in Cambodia and Peru. Delhi was actually easier than we thought it would be as we booked a pre-paid taxi and headed to Parahganj, the traveller and budget centre of Delhi. Our taxi was accosted by some strange men who looked as if they had serious head injuries - or had red stuff all over their heads anyway - but apart from that we got to Star Palace hotel with little trouble and were surprised that the room was no worse than Laos standards and cheaper at 300 rupees or 3.50GBP/night.

After a sound sleep we were woken by cheering only to find that our first day in India had cooincided with Holi: The Festival of Colour, a Hindu celebration to mark the spring and full moon. After a delicous Indian breakfast (potato paranthas and lassi yoghurt drink) we remembered exactly why we had come to India and, feeling brave, we ventured outside to see what the fuss was about.

It's true what they say - you can experience a full repetoire of emotions in the space of half an hour in India. We left the hotel excited and slightly nervous. When the first water bomb hit us we thought what the hell and walked around the streets of Parahganj observing the colourful scene. Everywhere we looked Indian men were covered in powder paint and water (that would explain the men that looked as if they had head injuries at the airport!). Red, yellow, green and gold coated their faces and hands as they shouted 'happy Holi' to one another. We were stopped and politely asked if we wanted to participate which of course we said we did, after all who would miss such an experience? They rubbed paint all over our faces and before we knew it, we were covered from head to toe in paint then hugged good naturedly and sent on our way. We were having so much fun, everyone was smiling and we couldn't stop laughing at the blur of colour as people threw powder over each other. And then some men groped Beth and then another and suddenly it wasn't fun anymore. It hurt and Beth was suddenly ferociously angry at such a violation. She hit out but her fist met air and they were gone. We were frightened and fought our way back to the hotel, subdued and disbelieving. We must have looked like a Picasso painting as the hotel owner laughed uproariously at us as we dripped paint all over his floor and it was so infectious we found ourselves laughing again too. What other country encites such a range of emotions in such a short space of time?

We got back to our room to find the locks on our bags had been picked and our clothes rifled through although fortunately we had left nothing valuable to be taken. For the second time we felt violated and this time very, very angry. The hotel accused us of lying and tried to charge us more money for leaving after checkout time. Beth's pent-up frustration from the morning saw her going ballistic and even the general manager looking scared - a woman shouting at men? They were so stunned (and scared by the time Beth had finished!) we left with ease and checked into the Hotel Namaskar - a really nice hotel and one with a write up in Rough Guide that included the word 'safe'.

Exhausted but refusing to be worn down, we walked to the central area, Connaught Place, with Beth wearing a rucksack on her front. Despite everywhere being like a ghost town because of the holiday, we had a lovely South Indian Thali in the Banana Leaf restaurant and then took an auto-rickshaw back to the refuge of our hotel room.

Our first day in Delhi had left us pretty confused. People always say you either love India or hate it. We had both loved it and hated it today, in fact we had felt a great many things. We decided to write this one down to experience and learn that we have to be extra vigilant about security even in hotels and Beth has to buy some very loose tops but that Delhi can also be a city full of fun, colour and laughter. We slept soundly knowing that tomorrow we would be much wiser.

Hong Kong: Trippin' the Light Fantastic

We managed three countries in one day; Vientiane (Laos), Hanoi (Vietnam) then Hong Kong...although we nearly didn't make it out of Hanoi. Vietnam Airlines insisted our ticket was invalid and actually it was but it was their mistake. We were still charged with adrenalin after enduring Laos Airways again so we argued until we went blue and got the flight free - hoorah! On arrival in Hong Kong we could see through the rain that it was a huge contrast to Laos; developing to developed, cheap to expensive. It was amazing; transport ran on time, roads were tarmaced, buildings were sturdy and not a bamboo pole in sight! Most hotels are around 50gbp/night, so we checked into the YHA on Hong Kong Island, located 269 metres up Mt.Davis with not much else except a mobile phone tower. In fact the YHA was the worse we have ever stayed in; cold, damp and like a prison camp with beds as hard as planks but only 5gbp each.

Our first day of exploration was really exciting as we took in the frantic hustle and bustle of Central Hong Kong. We watched the world go by in the coffee shops of Soho and then at night ate food with expats and workers relaxing after a day in one of the skyscrapers that make up the business district. Doing the touristy thing, we took an open top bus to the Peak Tram Station and then caught the tram up to the top of Victoria Peak which is the highest point on Hong Kong Island and the most exclusive place to live. The views were amazing with skyscrapers of every height jostling for position in the dense jungle of buildings and the harbour sweeping between Lantau, Hong Kong and the New Territories.

Steve's 33rd (gulp!) birthday came around with incredible speed and we celebrated by visiting Hong Kong's Space Museum in Kowloon, the harbour front of the New Territories (the land connected to mainland China). Not Beth's idea of a great day but it was Steve's birthday and she does get her way for the other 364 days of the year! We saw a film and then visited Hard Rock Cafe for a western lunch after an overdose of noodles, rice and spices in South-East Asia. We spent the evening taking in the incredible 360 degree harbour views in Hong Kong's only revolving restaurant R66; 66 because supposedly it takes 66 minutes for a full rotation. After careful timing however, we feel it should really be callled R87 (not that we're picky or anything). We had the nicest meal in a long time and gorged ourselves on both the buffet and the views. Funny what you can see from a height and Hong Kong makes use of every last little piece of space as even the skyscrapers have running tracks and football pitches on top! After a drink in Soho, we took the Star Ferry to Kowloon again and wandered down the Avenue of Stars where Hong Kong recognises their home grown stars such as Jackie Chan. It also affords fabulous views of the skyscrapers lining and lighting the harbour on Hong Kong Central side. Classical music strained to be heard above the excited chatter of spectators and the horns of the sight-seeing boats in the harbour and, as the volume increased, the symphony of lights began. The HSBC building normally lit in red and white, flashed in time with the music of the wind instruments. The Bank of China building sent silver streaks careering up and down its towering HQ to the sounds of the brass section, the Exhibition Centre shimmered and flashed in reds and yellows whilst the Central Plaza shot green lasers above the crowds in time to the strings. The harbour front came alive and we felt the the pride they have in their spectactularly unique extravaganza of bright colours. God forbid they have a power cut.

We left Hong Kong wanting more. More of the designer window shopping and harbour lights, more of the little noodle restaurants tucked away behind neon signs in side streets. More of the indomitable vibrancy and drive that makes it difficult to see how China would ever be able to influence an island defiant in the face of communism and holding true, at least for now, to the 'one country, two systems' mantra.

Tubing in Vang Vieng

After such an uncomfortable journey to Luang Prabang we decided to not subject ourselves to seven hours in a hot bus to Vang Vieng and treated ourselves to travel by the speedy minibus instead. Only $3 extra each and four hours of aircon comfort...brilliant. Our hopes of a comfy journey evaporated as quickly as the water in the radiator and within an hour we were parked at the side of the road with steam pouring out of the engine. Oh, the irony of the public bus passing us! We waited whilst a further nine minibuses pulled up to 'help' but to no avail. We were dispersed into the other buses and continued on eventually making it to Vang Vieng in eight hours. On arrival Beth headed straight for the toilet and proceeded to stay there for the next three days having had a relapse of the food posioning from Vientianne. There are few Doctors in Laos and serious medical conditions have to be flown to Thailand, que Dr.Brown. Diagnosing a case of giardiasis picked up from the raw meat and a reoccuring parasite, Dr.Brown prescribed appropriate anti-biotics and sleep (Beth slept for 17 hours straight).

Vang Vieng is a small dusty town but is rescued by the backdrop of mountains that hint at an unexplored world ripe for activities like mountain climbing, kayaking and rafting...all of which has helped Vang Vieng carve its niche on the backpacker trail. Unfortunately it has a reputation for drugs (inevitable because Laos is the third biggest producer of Opium in the world behind Myanmar and Afghanistan) but those who do feel the need to indulge are instantly sobered by the picturesque setting, best enjoyed lounging on the bamboo beds that line the river banks.

Although Beth had not been more that ten minutes from the toilet in days, she refused to miss out on the most famous activity of them all in Laos - tubing. Donning our bathing suits we floated down the river on huge tyres, lazily letting the current take us wherever it wanted under the warm rays of the sun. Fortunately for Beth, bums are the one part of the body constantly submerged and well, needs must etc (sorry, too much information). Steve swung on rope swings, jumped from bamboo boards and supped Beer Laos and we wondered whether anything could be more relaxing than tubing. Four hours later and slightly burnt, we climbed out of the river and headed for a drink and some food. It is easy to see that Vang Vieng caters for backpackers as all the restaurants have row after row of lounging seats to lie down and watch 'Friends' on the big screens whilst eating. Perfect for chilling (Steve) and recuperating (Beth).

Our journey back to Vientiane was long and hot on the public bus but it did exactly what it said on the tin and we arrived back in the capital with little fuss. Beth stayed in bed (honestly, Delhi belly and we're not even in India yet!) until we flew to Hong Kong the following morning leaving Laos with pledges to return and visit the south too one day.

The Journey to Nong Kiaw

The boat from Luang Prabang to Nong Kiaw that was due to leave at 8am, didn't leave until 9.30am. It's little wonder visitors often joke that Laos P.D.R, which stands for 'People's Democratic Republic', would be more appropriately named 'Please Don't Rush'! But the trip was worth waiting for and for once it was all about the journey and not the destination.

The banks of the river were lined with a spectrum of green; bright lime green of the undergrowth, the earthy green of the thick trees and the fresh, mint green of the plants inbetween like coconut palms, banana trees and elegant collections of sinewy feathered bamboo fanning out like a peacock's tail. Hills gave way to mountains with dappled limestone sides reflecting beige and black stripes in the mirrored surface of the Mekong. As the mist lifted from the hills, the vegetation began to take on a rainforest apprearance and we were reminded of our Amazon boat adventure almost a year before. As the sun came out, butterflies circled lazily over the little flowers dotting the bank with their pinpricks of blue beneath the water buffalow bathing in the shallows. The only sign of human inhabitance was the odd bamboo hut, the vegetables in tidy lines sown in the flood plains and the rafts carrying bamboo down the river to Luang Prabang. As morning stretched to afternoon, we saw more people; men fishing in their boats, women washing in the river and children splashing wearing nothing but their smiles.

The journey made us feel alive. Alive because you knew with certainty that beautiful, untouched, mind-blowingly raw scenery still exist and exhilirated because we were seeing it. Everyone should take this trip, a journey that makes you feel like you are both an extension of the landscape and an observer of Mother Nature at her most creative.

Nine hours later, we arrived on the muddy shores of Nong Kiaw - a provincial place consisting of bamboo and mud huts. Children waved and we called 'sabidee' (hello!) back, holding our hands out to be led to their village. The guest houses were basic with only four hours of electriciy in the evening but it was only $3, the staff were lovely, the food good and Beth made best friend's with a little black kitten she promptly named Oompa 2 (after one her cats she had to give away). Oompa 2 promptly feel asleep on her lap and when her Luang Prabang seaweed special arrived she even rolled the sticky rice into balls and hand fed him - clearly his first meal in a while bless him. Steve wouldn't allow her to smuggle him into her backpack - even against the strength of her 'black cats are good luck' argument - and we left Nong Kiaw leaving a little kitten with a taste for sticky rice and noone to love him (Steve is playing a small violin at this point).

Lazing in Luang Prabang

With Beth still a little shakey on her feet, we caught the early bus to Luang Prabang. There was no aircon but they showed us how to open the windows. There was no toilet but they gave us a bottle of water and we certainly didn't want to ask what to do with the empty bottle. It didn't quite meet the brochure but we had lots of space to spread out so we weren't complaining. Not long outside Vientiane however, we stopped to load 280 stools, 14 tables, 3 shelving units and 8 arm chairs to the roof and back of the bus. Space was now an issue. An uncomfortable 12-hour journey insued where we were subjected to Laos music at volumes that could (and almost did) burst ear drums and Steve threw up out the window several times.

The grim journey was worth it though as Luang Prabang was truly beautiful and a surprising contrast to the dusty blandness of Vientiane. The Lonely Planet walking tour took us pretty much from centre to river to finally hill where we climbed 200m to an ancient Wat and wonderful views over the town and its unspoilt surroundings. It is easy to see why Luang Prabang has been awarded UNESCO world heritage status as it combines a wonderful sense of history with charming streets and gorgeous buildings that are very reminiscent of rural France.

We took a day trip to visit Pak Ou caves tucked into the side of mountains and containing thousands of rather eerie Buddha's jostling for position in the dark with the bats. In the afternoon we saw the Kuang Si waterfalls, majestically cascading over four layers of rock and definately worthy of the steep hike to the top and perilous descent for the reward of an ice cold plunge. In between the sights we visited villages and saw handmade paper sprinkled liberally with pressed flowers being made and expertly crafted into hanging lanterns which dangled and waved merrily in the wind - almost as merrily as their creators. A kalaidoscope of coloured scarves lined the roadside stalls run by women weaving and men brewing the potent rice whisky (Lao Lao).

We were quite happy to spend the evenings in Luang Prabang mirroring the Laos people's pace of life and passed the time by sitting in the market eating street food and swapping stories with other travellers content with a cold beer Laos and good conversation. The night market offered further distraction as we strolled through what seemed like a mile of street vendors hawking their wares beneath hundreds of flurescent bulbs and the eager eyes of the visitors. On the final evening in Luang Prabang we watched the sun setting over the river Mekong and fervently wished we had longer to spend in one of the most beautiful towns we have ever seen.

Our First Taste of Laos

We were frankly quite grateful to arrive safely in Laos. We had booked a flight from Hanoi with Vietnam Airlines to avoid using Laos Airways: an airline with such a bad safety record (allegedly - *1) that they have stopped recording incidences; an airline with no radar (allegedly - *1); an airline that even Lonely Planet warns against using (*1). An airline that Vietnam Airlines outsourced to on this occasion (fact). Thirty other confused, bewildered and worried looking passengers boarded with us on a plane that looked like it belonged in Lego land. Thankfully, we touched down safely and Beth almost kissed the tarmac in delight.

The heat of Laos hit us immediately - 35 degrees was very welcome after the cold of North West Vietnam. Travelling into Vientiane from the airport, the first thing that struck us was the traffic (not literally for a change). Cars outnumbered the 'bikes, there was no horn-blowing, drivers used there indicators and generally, the pace of life was three times slower than Vietnam.

After checking into a pretty shocking excuse of a guesthouse, we set out to explore the city by foot. We followed the Lonely Planets architecture walking tour and what at first appeared to be a tumbling down city with roads in pieces and shops with barely a roof on, soon became an interesting hotch-potch of architectural styles. Ancient wats contrasted with old colonial French buildings in contrast again with buildings like the Presidential palace which could have been 'nouveau Laos' if such a term exists. A legacy perhaps of being the most heavily bombed nation in the history of warfare (*2), courtesy of America.

In the evening, we chilled out in a lovely restaurant along the river (well along the river bed since the river was somewhere near Thailand due to the dry season), consuming Beer Laos and eating the traditional laap dish - meat, lemongrass, bean sprouts and sticky rice. It just proves that guidebook recommendations date very quickly; Beth spent the entire night writhing in a bed of her own sweat, running frequently to the toilet (often missing) and vomiting all over the floor. 48 hours later, she was able to try food again and venture from her bed. It was poor Steve who needed the rest after cleaning up her sick and generally playing nurse for a few days.

Vientiane itself is neither particularly beautiful or interesting and one day in the city is plenty (unless you love wats or are bedridden by food poisoning). So as soon as Beth could walk again we took the bus further north to Luang Prabang.

*1 - Lonely Planet Laos - 2003
*2 - on a per capita basis from Lonely Planet Laos - 2003

Hanoi - watching the world go by

Arriving in Hanoi at 6am was like finding yourself being sucked into a rapidly swirling vortex. For a start, unlike the end of our other coach journeys in Vietnam we weren't taken directly to the hotel of our choice. Instead, we were abandoned on the outskirts of the city to a frenzied group of Vietnamise taxi drivers and hotel touts. Bartering down a tout to US$7/night inc. breakfast, we let ourselves be led to a room with mould so thick on the walls of the bathroom that it resembled cotton wool!

Beth spent the first day in bed suffering from the flu and unable to brave the cold. At 12 degrees, we began to wonder why we had sent our warm clothes back home. Once recovered, we wondered outside into the old quarter of Hanoi and within the space of five minute, were almost run over 4 times by motor-scooters...and we were on the pavement! We were confronted by an amazing scene, as hoards of motorcycles bombed down the labyrinth of narrow streets that make up the beautifully old and wonderfully tatty area. Food stalls line the pavements and send the smell of freshly cooked noodles laced with mint and meat (pigs trotters and ducks complete with beaks seemed particular favorites), spiralling to the terraces at the top of the narrow, tall buildings that face into the streets. Elderly ladies whose wrinkled faces reflect the struggles of their time; the occupation of the French, the attack of the Americans, defeating starvation, yet they shuffle along the streets carrying a simple pole on one shoulder balanced either end by baskets of fruit, vegetables, fish or flowers. Sometimes they stop on the pavement, tired of the ceaseless walking and hoping that perhaps their customers will visit them today. The streets are alive with a blur of cyclo drivers, communal Mah Jong games and the call of the street traders yet there is an order to the Chaos. Shops are grouped by street based on merchandise; souvenirs line one as flowers line another and music a third. Part of the old quarters charm is soaking up the atmosphere on a terrace bar an observer of the mayhem below.

In our opinion, the best food in Vietnam (which until now we considered bland and oily) was to be found in the capital; hundreds of street stalls dishing up plates of lemon leaves, meat and noodles, Little Hanoi Restaurant with its antique-like charm, and the 'No-Noodle Bar' for when you finally have enough of the Vietnamese staple.

'Admin duties' like organising our Indian visa and confirming airline tickets gave us a great opportunity to traverse the wider city by foot. Whilst the rest of Hanoi carries none of the charm of the old quarter, the buildings, commerce and daily lives of the people are still fascinating. After ten kilometers, we found ourselves at Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum - the original godfather of Vietnamese communism and hero to the people for declaring independence from France. We weren't 100% sure what we were queuing to see but tourists and locals alike were shuffling in silence towards the entrance. We maintained a suitably somber stance as the curtains opened and we found ourselves face to face with the embalmed body of 'Uncle Ho'. As our first view of a dead body, we couldn't help but think it would look more at home in Madame Tussauds and after dutifully bowing, we gratefully retreated into the spring-like Hanoi air again.

Hanoi is also internationally famous (or so the brochure claims) for their water puppet theatre - a traditional form of entertainment and one that has maintained its popularity judging by the packed theatre. There was something very naive and innocent about the puppets which writhed and danced in the water to the live Vietnamese band. It felt like a performance from a bygone age but the scenes were amusing and the quality good; we still smile when we think of that night.

On the last day, we trekked across the city with our backpacks at 6am to pick up the minibus to the airport. As we passed the lake which heralds the start of the old quarter, we were amazed to see hoards of Hanoians stretching, leaping and in some cases dancing with fans and swords to music pumped over loud speakers. Vietnamese of all ages were "working" out and were in their own little world, eyes closed and stretching for the sky. We felt privileged to see the hectic Hanoians at their most relaxed and would have joined in had it not been for the 20kg bags on our backs and already giving us a workout.

We left Hanoi and Vietnam with fond memories of a beautiful land and a greatly reduced budget from our spending frenzy; worth it though to remind us of our wonderful month-long journey in the land of conical hats, paddy fields and a nation determined to defeat the ravages of war.

Trekking in Sapa

Sapa was everything we imagined Vietnam to be...and more. Majestic peaks of South East Asia's highest mountain range rose from the mist in contrast to the steeped rice terraces lining the valley and huge bamboo plants lining the road. Even after a ropey nights sleep aboard the sleeper train that took us to the Chinese border, the breathtaking sights and freezing air were enough to keep us awake. At 6 degrees, the cold air was a shock and we had sent our warm clothes home so, any excuse to shop, we went to the local market and bought fleeces, body warmers and hats. We now have a new four seasons wardrobe!

The town itself reminded us strongly of Cusco in Peru. Hill tribes peddle their wares wearing traditional costume; black woolen leg warmers (worn high and not like Fame!), woven skirts, tunics, hats and bunches of heavy earrings weighing down their lobes.

The first afternoon we trekked into the valley (thankfully downhill!) with our lovely guide, a native of Sapa. We encountered the Black H' Mong tribe and our guide explained how they own farmland, cutting rice terraces into the mountainside and producing armies of children to farm them. Families can reach 14 in an effort to breed more farmhands! The Vietnamese Government inserted a law in an effort to stop them producing so many children and made 20 the minimum age for marriage. Consequently a woman from the Black H' Mong tribe is pretty much on her back from the ages of 20 to 40!

Walking to Cat Cat falls we saw how the hill tribe villages harness the power of the water falling and then took a motorbike ride back up to the top.

After dinner, we wandered around the quiet streets of Sapa feasting on such street delights as barbequed chestnuts, eggs and sweet potatoes before setting into a bar in front of a fire and sipping rice wine (meths).

After a night so cold, we had warn even our hats to bed, our breakfast of steaming noodle soup was more welcome than ever. We met our guide and two other trekking companions for the day, the lovely Dutch Olaf and Yolanda and set out on our 16km trek of the Sapa mountains. We learnt along the way that Olaf and Yolanda live in a flat overlooking the canals in Amsterdam and having decided not to have children, they travel for a year in every three. They were such interesting people and we couldn't help but wonder about all the amazing sights they must have seen on their frequent travels. The day grew warmer and we discarded layer after layer as the sunshine peered oven Fransipan mountain, the tallest in South East Asia at 3143m high. We trekked through different hill tribes observing how hard they work - even the children - farming the fields and rice terraces. Often the little girls from the tribes would follow us for a while, chatting in broken English whilst trying to sell us their handicrafts which 9 out of 10 times we bought. They were such cute salespeople, who could resist?!

We saw some of their classrooms and gave them pens and paper that other traveller recommended we take. It's so hard for them as most tribes, even those as little as two kilometres apart, have their own language which is spoken only. At school the children have to first learn Vietnamese and then English - many don't bother seeing little point in studying when they are only able to work in the fields. Perhaps that is one of the constructive points of tourism, that they widen their English vocabulary little by little each season.

After 16km we were exhausted but totally exhilarated after a trek with sights on a par with the Inca Trail in places. We will never forget balancing along the top of the rice terraces that spread beneath us like giant steps, or the waterfall that trickled overhead and splashed into the bamboo forests....or Beth's throbbing in-growing toenail. Yes, sorry to spoil the wonderful imagery that Sapa certainly evokes but, to continue Beth's foot injury theme from Aus, on return to Hanoi she had to have a minor operation to have her big toenail removed. Desite the pain of having two massive needles forced into the end of her toe and then seeing a scalpal remove all plans of lovely painted nails on her return, she will still never forget the wonderful rice terraces giving way to the...etc, etc.

Rock the Cat Ba

Leaving Hanoi early, we travelled by coach until lunch time until we arrived in Halong City. The weather was very cold and a freezing (almost literally) mist descended on the bay. In junk boats we sailed though the islands seeing only ghostly outlines on the horizon until the fog lifted and we were treated to Halong Bay UNESCO World Heritage Site in almost all of its glory.

We were taken to see a cave in one of the mountains and unsure of what to expect, we were treated to the most largest and most stunning limestone caves we had ever seen. Stalagmites and stalactites had formed like crystals to present majestic displays of shimmering rock formations. Stunned at such a wonderful grotto but chilled to the bone, we taken to Cat Ba national park, the biggest island in Halong Bay. If you'll forgive the expression, the infrastructure of the island was like a bad day in Beirut - very much roads in progress. After a nice meal with the rest of the group, we had an early night snuggled under a duvet wearing five layers of clothing.

The next day on our return leg through the islands, we were lucky enough to have sunshine. It was a little like sailing through a smaller Milford Sound or past the stunning sandy alcoves of Abel Tasman or through the Bay of Islands in New Zealand. Dolphins were even spotted grabbing a free ride on the wake of a boat. The suns rays sparkled and danced as they caught the waves like thousands of fairy lights. Against the back drop of the craggy islands that constitutes the World heritage site, we witnessed one of the most beautiful sights we have seen in the World.

Tomb Raiding in Hue

On the way to the Imperial City of Hue, our bus stopped at the Marble Mountains; five majestic volcanic (extinct) peaks famed for extraction of it's namesake. We entered what seemed to be a small hole in the front of the mountain only to walk into a tardis. The cave stretched all the way through and all the way up, making the mountain practically hollow!

The journey between Denang and Hue was stunning; the mountains were thick with greenery and, shrouded in mist, the leaves flashed silver as the light reflected against the undergrowth. Certainly the further north we travel in Vietnam, the more beautiful the landscape becomes.

The imperial city of Hue itself is surrounded by a huge seven metre-high wall to protect the inner city (although ironically the town was a major target for US bombers during the war). It looked like the Vietnamese version of Chester! Our day in Hue was spent sailing the Perfume River and exploring the UNESCO sights along the banks. The tombs of the former emperors of the Vietnamese dynasties were interesting but we were all 'tombed out' by the end of the day and glad to be heading to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam.

Tailor Made for Hoi An

We absolutely loved Hoi An - full of charm and an UNESCO world heritage sight to boot. The old town gives way to brightly coloured, slightly tumbling down French-colonial shop fronts and restaurants sporting paper lanterns strung between the trees; French architecture meets decorations from the Orient. The local beer served in the river-facing, chateau-style restaurants was even called Biere Larue! The jolly people of Hoi An are such fun too - always a smile, a hug and a kind (Vietnamese) word. Beth's dimples seemed to be a particular crowd-puller and it was a disgruntled Steve who tagged behind a Vietnamese group trying to prod Beth's cheeks. She tried to explain she was just chubby but they were having none of it.

Aside from the UNESCO world heritage site of the Old Town and the gorgeous restaurants lining the river, one of the main attractions of Hoi An that pulls in many a traveller is the tailor-made clothing business. There are over 200 tailor shops in Hoi An offering pretty much the same service; tailored made clothing at a quarter of western prices. We were lured by a Vietnamese lady with the biggest smile on earth (without dimples) and ended up on the largest retail therapy binge we are ever likely to indulge in. Armed with the Next catalogue, Moss Bros and magazines galore, we flicked through until we found clothes we fancied. Once this (hard) task was taken, we then had to choose fabrics, any variances of design and were then measured...hey presto, 24 hours later your garment is ready. The only hard part was parting with the cash and that was easy because it's all so cheap - 30GBP for a tailored three piece suit. We had five! You think we're joking? After further purchases at the shoe tailor, our shopping list looked like this:

Steve
Dinner Jacket with shirt, bow tie and cummerband
3 pairs of boxer shorts
Suit
3 shirts
2 pairs of shorts
Trainers

Beth
2 x 3 piece suits (jacket, skirt and trousers)
2 shirts
Cocktail dress
(Gorgeous) evening coat
2 x trousers (raw silk)
couduroy skirt
Knee high boots
Work shoes
Trainers

What would have cost us well over 1500GBP in the UK, at most cost us 300GBP in Vietnam. Beth really thought she had died and gone to heaven. Oil paintings and bamboo dishes added to our growing collection of Vietnamese goods and our diminishing savings! High on retail therapy we left the lovely Hoi An before we spent our entire remaining budget and visited My Son - an incredible religious site built in the 10th century. In a similar vein to the Angkor Wat complex, but on a much, much smaller scale, My Son has almost given up the ghost and lost it's battle to the wonderful lush jungle surrounding the site. Now it's a UNESCO world heritage site and justifiably so. The temples have a mystery that is shares with it's distant relations, the Egyptian Pyramids - archaeologists can't work out how the constructions were sealed together. Team that with cryptic wording on tombs that noone has yet to crack, we felt we were in our own version of the Da Vinci code (if you haven't read the 'Da Vinci Code' by Dan Brown then you should!). The $800,000 reward for the first person to crack the code saw us scrabbling to our knees in hope: Steve because he saw a way to rebuild our finances and Beth because of all the more tailored clothes she could buy! Unfortunately parts of My Son were used as the Viet Cong headquarters during the American War and some sites were sadly destroyed as a result of fierce US bombing campaigns. The rest of the site however is under conservation to preserve the temples from further jungle intrusion.

Vietnam's Underwater World

We had a dreadful ten hour journey from Ho Chi Minh to Dalat and we had begun to recognise a trend that many travellers before us had realised and guide books warned of - Vietnam is a stunning country but the transport and infrastructure spoils the journey. When we finally arrived in Dalat, we discovered a pretty town with a big lake that lights up at night by a replica Eiffel Tower and fairy lights in the trees. The latter was sweet and the former very tacky but Dalat is famous for being kitch and the gaudy sights make it a popular tourist destination amongst the Vietnamese. At 1500m above sea level, Dalat is known for having an eternal spring - warm by day but without the sticky heat of Ho Chi Minh and cool by night. It was actually nice to wear long trousers and jumpers again! Dalat, whilst pretty, was unremarkable and we left for the beach resort of Nha Trang the following day.

The journey to Nha Trang was in a slightly improved bus (although five hours actually took nine - recognising a trend here?) and we stopped to stretch our legs at a wonderful scenic stop with mountains sweeping into a jungle-lined valley. Whilst not as beautiful a beach or seaside town as Silhanoukville in Cambodia, we still managed to while away a couple of days on the rather gravelly sand and an excellent day diving with Rainbow Divers. The coral is beautifully intact in Vietnam (unlike parts of the Great Barrier Reef in places as a legacy of careless divers amongst other detoriating factors), the visibility far better than the Thai waters and the world beneath revealed colourful aquatic life and garden after garden of stunning plants. We even saw an octopus snuggled into some rocks and Haong, our local divemaster, prodded it until its tentacles slid further beneath the rock in a fog of black ink.

Unfortunately our colds get steadily worse whilst in Nha Trang, possibly as a result of diving in colder water than we were used to, and we struggled to get suitable medicine. Not because of range, oh no, we could probably have bought Morphine over the counter if we had so desired. No, it was the language barrier and Beth ended up doing a pantomime to depict nasal congestion and sinus problems. Steve, her co-performer, could be heard for miles as he snorted and coughed up phlegm to demonstrate our condition. After being offered Augmentin which was subsequently refused by us (who takes anti-biotics for a cold?), we eventually received some undisclosed, frighteningly large pills that we weren't sure whether to swallow or insert anally. We settled on the former (closer to the problem area we figured) and we have no recollection whether they worked or not because within half an hour we were on our bus to Hoi An, sleeping like babies.