A unique way to enter a country

As an alternative to a long bus, there’s a slow boat which takes you from the Laos/Thailand border along the Mekong river to Luang Prabang. It take two days. It sounded like the epitome of slow travel and I was of course planning to take it.

I caught the earliest possible bus from Chiang Rai, Thailand to the Laos border. The 2 hour journey took much longer. We arrived and got a tuktuk shuttle to the actual border. We exited Thailand with no issues, having to wait a while before getting another bus to the Laos border. Here I crossed with my e-visa with no problems, a part from the man asking me to pay 50 baht for the stamp in my passport. I refused, saying it didn’t say that anywhere and I’d already paid for the visa. After I stood my ground he just waved me through. Another tuktuk shuttle took me into the town of Huay Xai. I had hoped to catch the slow boat to Luang Prabang that day but it turned out there was only one at 9am and I’d definitely missed that, with it now being 12pm! So instead I found a hostel and spent the afternoon working on blog posts. The following morning I got myself on the slow boat at last, sat in the prime seat at the front of the boat. I’d bought a sandwich in the little town earlier and was armed with Rosaline’s left behind snacks to keep me going (a jar of peanut butter and a lot of raisons).

The boat was long and held around 80 passengers, mostly travellers but a fair number of locals too. The seats were ones clearly taken from cars. It was unbelievably hot, the boat moved just fast enough to create a breeze strong enough to make it bearable. But only just. I was clammy with sweat the entire journey. The 8 hours passed slowly but pleasantly. The boat hummed with conversations amongst the travellers, a few games of cards were played, but mostly people slept or kept to themselves. I personally finished my book, listened to a lot of music and spent a lot of time staring at the scenery slowly passing by. The river was wide and still. The banks were sandy and low. The land was green and alternated between marshy lowlands, jungle, and steeper hillsides. There were stretches of sand bars where there were often fisherman or children to spot and wave to. We made several stops at seemingly desolate areas, to drop off or collect parcels or people. I had a long and surprisingly deep afternoon nap, knelt on the floor with my head on my seat, that I never fully awoke from. We arrived into our resting spot for the night at around 5pm, a town called Pak Beng. A crowd of guesthouse owners waited for us at the top of the bank, offering up their business holding boards with pictures of the rooms on. With a friend I’d made in Chiang Rai, we found a cheap private room with aircon and agreed to take it, loading our bags onto the truck with the other travellers heading to the same place whilst we decided to walk the short distance. The town was more built up than I’d expected with lots of little restaurants and shops, all to service the slow boat. After checking in, having a very needed cold shower and lie down in the aircon, I ate a delicious curry along with three older couples from the boat. We laughed at the conversations we’d overheard from the 18/19 year old travellers and I felt happy that I wasn’t the only one secretly judging them.

Refreshed after a good sleep and a good breakfast we all returned to the boat. This time we had a slightly nicer vessel. The seats were arranged in little booths with tables. We bagged some good ones and I enjoyed being able to write comfortably. The effect of the changed seating was huge. Or perhaps everyone had just had a good night’s sleep too. Either way, the quiet hum of activity on yesterday’s journey became a chorus of life today. Travellers moved up and down the boat mingling, the aisle way was filled with jostling bodies. Rounds of cards were being played at most tables, with people subbing in and out constantly. A speaker appeared from someone’s bag and music blasted out. Conversation flowed throughout the entire 8 hour journey. As we came to our last hour on the boat the atmosphere was almost sad, we wished we had longer! I drank my first Beer Lao, the infamous beer seen absolutely everywhere here and we pulled into the bank shortly afterwards. We were on the outskirts of Luang Prabang and at a sort of tuktuk station. We grouped together by hostel and caught tuktuks the rest of the way. And so the two day slow boat journey was over! It was filled with cards and conversations and books, and also a whole lot of sweat! But the best part of it was still to come. By spending two days stuck on a boat with the same 80 people, all going to the same town, it created a readymade community. As I wandered the streets of Luang Prabang I was constantly stopping to say hello to friends from the boat. And it extended past the town, to any tourist attraction nearby and to subsequent destinations in Laos. It was such a lovely feeling, like you were in a place you had lived for several years, which is one rarely felt whilst travelling. For this reason alone I’d absolutely recommend the slow boat as a way to enter Laos.

Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is a gorgeous city that stands out in Southeast Asia in its slowness and vibe. It is very small, more of a town, and it’s quiet. The streets are made up of french-style buildings in soft yellows and oranges, made even more beautiful by the vines and banana leaves that fall down their fronts. A reminder that despite the architecture, we’re definitely not in Europe. There’s a big hill that divides the centre, with a temple perched on top. I watched the sunset from here one evening and it was beautiful. There are several lovely cafes and eateries scattered around, alongside lots of local restaurants and handmade souvenir shops. Across a very narrow bridge that I did not enjoy driving over on a moped, there was a jewellery workshop where you could sit with your legs swinging from the balcony over the Mekong river, making a piece of jewellery yourself. I made a bracelet that I’m rather proud of. At 5am the day begins in the city. The monks begin their walk around as the sun rises, their orange robes contrasting with the darkness still clinging to the streets. In an act called ‘Alms’ the monks accept donations of food that they will eat that day. Locals and tourists line the pavements ready to empty handfuls of sticky rice and other treats into their urn-like containers. Around the corner of some busy streets we noticed that the roles were reversed, children sat on the pavement and received donations of the same food from the monks, plopped into plastic bags laid out in front of them. We secretly judged the monks that didn’t share any of theirs with the children. It was a special way to spend a morning, walking around the quiet streets, observing the trails of orange robes snaking around corners. We followed it up by going to the morning market where we saw all sorts of oddities for sale, including rats, frogs and riverweed. I bought some riverweed to try but left the rats and frogs for another time… Evenings in the city were spent at a slightly different pace, at a bowling alley on the outskirts. Yep, it’s as random as it sounds! A bowling alley in Laos. Filled with travellers getting drunk, smoking indoors, and reverting to their competitive youth. I’m sad to say I didn’t fare well at this back to basics alley, with no barriers on the gutters, coming almost last in every game. A lot of fun was had.

The main tourist attraction in Luang Prabang is actually an hour’s moped drive outside of it, the Kuang Si waterfall. Now I’ve seen a lot of waterfalls in my trip by this point, so I didn’t expect too much as a group of us drove over for the day. It was the most beautiful waterfall I’ve ever seen. Along the trail through the jungle there was a moon bear sanctuary and several moon bears to spot. You came to the river and the trail wound up past several waterfalls, some steady, some dramatic, some forming stepped pools of the turquoise water. There were two areas where the water was paused in an area wide enough to form a large pool, perfect for swimming and jumping in. The water was properly cold, well for southeast Asia standard anyway. It was refreshing and clear. At the top was a large, dramatic waterfall, with a bridge that crossed in front to give you a better view. All the way along the river the air was filled with collections of butterflies going about their business. It was stunning.

Vang Vieng

Accessible by bus or a snazzy new train from Luang Prabang. I opted for the train, wanting to try out this new Chinese built piece of transport. I found it to be incredibly strange but very comfortable. You entered one distinctly Chinese modern-style station in Luang Prabang and left via an identical one in Vang Vieng, giving the sensation that you’d actually travelled nowhere at all.

Vang Vieng itself was quite awful. The streets were dirty and unpleasant and there wasn’t a nice cafe insight. But you come here for the surrounding area, and it delivers on that. A group of us explored it by scooter, crossing a very dodgy looking bridge before zooming through open fields of karsts. It was similar to Ninh Binh in Vietnam. We hiked up no less than three viewpoints, getting sweaty to a level I have never experienced before. Rivers were running down my legs. Nathan looked like he’d jumped into a lake his clothes were so saturated. On top of the viewpoints we admired the views and the strange items placed up there: a motorbike, a huge pegasus statue, a plane. Our next stop was one of the many lagoons in the area. It was quite cool, with a little restaurant, a rope swing and zipline into the water and little wooden huts surrounding the water. The water was cold enough to be refreshing. There was also a huge cave here, which we explored at length, working our way down the ladders and through the tight squeezes, into chamber after chamber, until we reached the little lake deep inside. Emerging back into the outside world I felt like we’d been in there for hours when it was in fact only half an hour. We were covered in cave mud and scratches and carried a strange sense of achievement for making it to the underground lake.

The other activity in Vang Vieng is tipsy tubing: floating down a river in a rubber ring, stopping at bars and getting drunk. As a typical gap year activity I felt like I had to try it at least once this year, but I didn’t expect it to be quite as fun as it was! We had a great group of people which of course made it. Armed with bottles of homemade pinacolada we jumped into our rings and began the journey down the slow moving river, chatting and soaking up the sun. Men at the bars (of which there were only 2) would throw out a rope for us to grab onto and pull us into the side. If you missed the rope, a child would rapidly swim out and grab you instead. The 4 hours of floating passed impossibly quickly.

Into, and out of, the countryside

After some panic in Vang Vieng when I’d gotten my days mixed up, thinking it was the 14th when it was in fact the 13th (the hardships of travelling and having no concept of time!), I worked out a plan to get to my workaway. It required me getting a bus at 6am to Vientiane, then a bus from there which would take me 8 hours southeast to a town called Lak Sai. The only problem was that I did tipsy tubing the day before… I managed to get myself up and out by 6am, missing my planned bus but managing to get one at 7 instead. 2.5 hours later and I was on the side of the road, still feeling a bit drunk but beginning to become hungover. I had to wait almost an hour to get a shared tuktuk for 30 minutes across the city to the right bus station. Here I caught my onwards bus. The journey was long, hot and uncomfortable. One to be endured and not enjoyed. I was definitely tiring of these long journeys. I arrived at my workaway, teaching at a school. If you want to hear about that interesting experience, there’s a separate post on it.

My tolerance for long bus journeys was still at zero after the workaway, so I decided to try and hitchhike back to Vientiane instead. I stayed overnight in a little town called Na Hin. I had run out of Laos Kip so in the morning I visited the two ATMs in the town in the pouring rain to get some. Frustratingly, they were both out of action. I remembered I had some leftover Thai Baht in my bag and the guesthouse owner agreed to accept payment for my room in that, giving me change in Kip. I used this to buy some breakfast and then made my way to the main road begin my hitchhiking attempt. It seemed it wasn’t common to hitchhike in Laos so I had little success for the first 45 minutes, eventually giving in a paying a small amount for a lift in the back of a tuktuk/truck hybrid. It still beat the bus, with the fresh air (and dust) streaming in from all sides. It dropped me off in Paksan after 3.5 hours. I had much more luck here, with a car stopping immediately and offering to take me to Vientiane. It was driven by a pleasant young guy, Binly, returning Vientiane for work after a weekend visiting his family. The 3 hours passed quickly, chatting and listening to Ed Sheeran and Maroon 5 (not my music choices!). Binly was extra kind and dropped me right outside my hostel. The following evening he also invited me out for drinks with his friends which I accepted and had a very pleasant evening with them. All in all, much more preferable to another long bus journey!

Vientiane

Vientiane is the capital of Laos but it had nothing else going for it. It’s not pretty or interesting. I spent my time here doing errands like laundry and catching up on life admin and blog writing. When people say there’s nothing there, they’re being truthful for once.

Would we call this an enjoyable workaway experience?

Probably not. But it’s a funny story now.

I wanted to experience life in a village in Southeast Asia and decided Laos was the place to do it. I found a nice looking workaway based in a town called Lak Sao, 7 hours southeast from Vientiane (the capital). It was advertised as teaching english in an english school, something I have mixed opinions on but this one seemed okay as I would be an assistant rather than the main teacher. After an arduous journey which took 13 hours door to door, I arrived in the pissing rain at 8pm. I was shown my room which was basic but a standard I had become comfortable with, and was called for dinner. The school was part of the family’s home, which was a strange lay out of buildings and covered areas. This first dinner was fine, noodle soup, some vegetables with meat, and rice. Peter was the guy in charge and he was fairly chatty, albeit in a strange way where he would ask questions rudely and give slightly obnoxious replies, but I think this was just a cultural and language barrier thing. His dad smiled at me but didn’t speak any english. His mum didn’t even look at me. I tried very hard with this woman and never got anywhere, not a single word or even a head nod from her to acknowledge my presence. I was told not to go out after dinner because it was “dangerous” and to just go to bed. Fun! I got the impression that this family was not interested in socialising with me at all so steeled myself for a lonely week. Luckily, the following day another volunteer appeared - Lucia from Spain. Lucia saved me from any loneliness and provided a teammate in the craziness that ensued. It was lucky that we got on because it quickly became clear that we were expected to share not only a room, but a bed!

On my first day I was ordered to be ready at 8am where I was given a handful of sticky rice for breakfast and taken over to the construction site behind the house. They were building a new school here. I was instructed to mix cement which I made a bit of a mess of at first but eventually got the hang of. When shouted at, I was to fill buckets with cement and carry it to where Peter and his father were working, passing the bucket up to them on the makeshift scaffold. It was slightly unexpected work but I was fine with it, although a thank you would have been nice at some point rather than just being rudely told to bring two buckets at once not one at a time (clearly they hadn’t noticed my noodle arms…). Luckily this was the only construction I had to help with over my stay!

The teaching itself was fun in general but exhausting. The stipulated 4/5 hours of work expected on a workaway was ignored completely, and we taught in classes for 7 hours from 1pm to 8pm. During the classes my role was simply to read text and have the students repeat it back to me, picking them up on any pronunciation errors. We’d spend the full 2 hour lesson basically just doing this exercise. I was bored so the kids must have been bored to death. If there were any actual questions for the students to answer I’d go around and help them with these, or just chat to them. In general, the level of english was very low so conversation wasn’t really possible. There were a few girls who were much better and I loved chatting to them, and not only because they would always bring me snacks from the market to try! During the week I was there the students had exams to sit after class. I was told to invigilate these which I thought, ‘great, I can read my book and relax!’, how wrong I was. These kids really tried to cheat! Like consistently for the 1 hour exam. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every minute there was a student asking another one for the answer, or pushing their paper over to someone else, or turning around to get a glimpse. Keeping them in line required my full attention for the whole hour, how annoying. For the oral exams, Lucia and I were told to interview the students individually and grade them. We weren’t given any criteria so this was a difficult task, made slightly easier by most of the students being unable to understand any english beyond ‘what’s your name’. This was the most exhausting task we had to do and not at all enjoyable!

You’d think that the construction work, the shared bed and the long hours would be the worst of it, but they weren’t! The food and the family situation were worse. Let’s talk about the food first. I’m an adventurous and unfussy eater but even I hesitated when a plate of raw liver, raw meat and raw intestine was brought out for lunch. It actually tasted fine and (thankfully!) fresh but I wasn’t up for eating more than a few mouthfuls of it. I didn’t touch the raw intestine, having plenty of that in my soup already. The strange meat didn’t stop there, with dinner the following day being frogs! Again, these tasted fine but were very fiddly to eat and the skin was slimy. Other than these weird items, meals were usually just rice (steamed or sticky or both) and an omelette split between all of us or some vegetables. The family ate twice a day, an early lunch (11am) and dinner (8pm). Neither meal was very fulfilling unless you’re happy to eat a whole lot of plain rice. Lucia and I were perpetually hungry and felt lethargic because of this. I’ve mentioned that the family were unfriendly and didn’t want anything to do with us really, but this became even more apparent when they all left! I’m being slightly harsh here, Peter informed us that his baby son (who knew he had a child and why wasn’t he living with him?!) was in hospital with a fever and he needed to go and be with him. Peter then informed us that his parents would be going with him, leaving us alone. The next morning they left early without a trace. Peter told us there would be some ‘assistants’ to look after us, or we could cook for ourselves. The latter option wouldn’t have been the worse thing with the current food standard, but the kitchen was an outdoor one with no oven or gas stove, just a tin can fire. Even if I was more capable and able to start a fire, I couldn’t find any food to cook, not even rice! I had no idea where they stored it, unless they just picked the frogs fresh each morning?! So perhaps it was lucky we had our ‘assistants’ to watch over us. Sadly, the ‘assistants’ were three young boys who didn’t provide much help. They spent most of the day singing karaoke at full volume. After a lot of pestering they did help me light the fire and I was able to make some boiled eggs for breakfast, boiling extras to have as a snack later on. Except when I came back from washing up the boys had already eaten the spare eggs I’d put aside… They continued the usual meals by making us rice and a small omelette to share. Another boy came over one evening and cooked larb (a traditional Laos dish of minced meat and herbs) which was tasty, but at this point I was losing the will to live slightly.

On our day off we wanted to visit the Dragon cave and the cool pools that Peter told us about. We asked if we could borrow a scooter to drive to these, we were told no. We expected Peter or the other teachers to offer to take us but no, so we tried our hand at hitchhiking. The three boys, our assistants, watched on and laughed at our attempts. When one car finally stopped for us, I asked if the boys would help explain what we wanted and was told ‘no’. Lucia and I were nearing the end of our tether when at last a car stopped with a Spanish and Polish couple inside. They were also going to visit the dragon cave and cool pool so we all went together and had a really wonderful time. We waved a sad goodbye to them on the main road as we set out to hitchhike back to the school. We were able to flag down a bus and negotiate a reasonable price to get us back.

Thankfully I’d only arranged to stay at the school for 1 week, but I ended up leaving one day early, hitching a lift out of the town in the evening after dinner. I felt slightly guilty for leaving Lucia behind, but I couldn’t face it there anymore. It was a combination of the poor diet, poor sleep in a room that was too hot and in a shared bed, and the unfriendly people making me feel slightly uncomfortable constantly. I had moments of joy; yoga in the mornings, doing some writing after lunch, playing cards in bed with Lucia. But I didn’t feel very happy there. It was only for a short time and it has provided some funny stories so I definitely don’t regret going. But I wouldn’t go back!

Northern Thailand

From Vietnam to northern Thailand, how did you manage that without flying? Sadly I didn’t. I caved on my no flying intention to accompany Rosaline to Northern Thailand before she headed back to London, with her not having enough time to cross through Laos. It took me a bit of back and forth to make the decision but ultimately I wanted to spend as much time with Rosaline as possible since she’d come all this way, and I wanted to experience northern Thailand with her. It also made my onwards route a bit easier! And so we took a quick one hour flight from Hanoi to Chiang Mai. Stepping back into Thailand I had that familiar feeling of returning to a place I really enjoyed, from a place I enjoyed slightly less. I’d had it strongly once before on this trip: returning to Georgia from Armenia. It was clear to me then, I preferred Thailand to Vietnam. Not the way round I’d have predicted!

Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai was an interesting city, fully taken over by expats. The centre was a perfect square, surrounded by a moat and ruins of city walls. Within the moat, and especially along the first road inside, were lovely cafes after lovely cafes. Luckily there were also lots of little Thai restaurants and street food stalls. The perfect mix of Thai culture and western comforts. We appreciated the Thai side by visiting lots of gorgeous temples, chatting about our thoughts on Buddhism and mindfulness and the meaning of life whilst sitting in the calm oases of their gardens. Matching necklaces were bought at the ethnic Mong village which was a strange place, filled with corrugated iron lean-to structures housing souvenirs for tourists and a National Trust-esque flower garden. We ate a lot of excellent street food at the night market. We found our possible favourite dish of the trip: Khao Soi, a coconut milk-based curry with noodles rather than rice. We did another cooking class which ended up being a private lesson for just the two of us! Rosaline went to an elephant sanctuary and I got fined for riding a scooter without an international licence on my way to a free yoga class, which turned out to be a chi quong class which I hate. Swings and roundabouts! The expat community was also enjoyable and we indulged fully in this, by going to a free yoga class in the park (this one was actually yoga), by listening to some excellent jazz at the popular jazz bar and some excellent bands at another live music night we stumbled upon. We took part in the cafe culture with some intense travel planning for me (I changed my plans for my last few weeks and I booked my flight home!) and remote working for Rosaline. We visited an ‘art village’ I’d seen on instagram of all places, which greatly exceeded our expectations, being a few little lanes of beautiful handmade craft stores draped in vines and broken up with artisan cafes. It wasn’t a beautiful city and the roads were a bit stressful to drive on, but the food and activity made it one of the most liveable cities I’ve visited in Asia.

Chiang Rai

A four hour bus journey delivered us further north to Chiang Rai, the last destination for Rosaline and I’s travel together. The bus journey was stunning (or the parts I didn’t sleep through were). More temples and stupas and giant Buddhas than you could count. Our first day was spent visiting the Blue temple, which was very blue, and the Black House, which was very black. The Black House is a contemporary art and sculpture site, comprised of lots of black houses in traditional Thai design filled with strange articles. Chairs made of bones. Animal hides. Penis sculptures. A lot of strange male energy. Our favourite was the white dome with funky acoustics, something that kept us entertained for way too long. In the evening we visited, and completed, the Saturday night market which was no easy feat considering how huge and endless it was. Our last day was spent visiting the White Temple, along with two aussies we’d met at the hostel. I found the White Temple to be really quite rubbish. Out of all the sights I’d heard of and wanted to see, none had been so devastatingly disappointing as this. I’ll concede that it is very stunning and beautiful in isolation, but the reality is that it’s in a sort of car park on a main road. It was only built in 1997 and was clearly done so as a tourist attraction. It was so disengenuine. If you think I’m overreacting let me draw your attention to the hanging superhero heads in the trees that surrounded the temple… Yep that is Pirates of the Caribbean and Captain America. Why? Your guess is as good as mine, there was no explanation. Luckily, the two aussie guys were equally disillusioned by it so we had a fun time being unimpressed together. Thinking the day couldn’t get any more strange we drove out to a park and set out on a walk, unknowingly going in the complete wrong direction. We walked through hedge-lined lanes and past buffalo, coming across three man waist deep chilling in a river. They gave us shots of whiskey from cut off tops of plastic bottles and some jerky of questionable origin (hopefully not dog!). We had to sweet talk a guard to re-enter the park (apparently we were meant to have bought tickets) and got to enjoy a little petting zoo. All in all a strange day! The afternoon was spent chatting over cold beers in a british pub and there’s nothing that can quite beat that. Except for maybe getting dressed up and driving to a fancy restaurant for a delicious meal, which is what Rosaline and I did after! Sadly it was to mark our last meal together, but what a wonderful meal it was set in a conservatory that overlooked the river. Rosaline even indulged my greatest love, the card game ‘couples’, and we played a few rounds whilst our dinner digested. It wouldn’t have been the full travelling with Meg experience without at least one game of couples! I had quite the laugh in Chiang Rai, although some of it was at Chiang Rai’s expense. Overall, would recommend!

On May 29th, with sleep still in my eyes, I waved off Rosaline for a second time on this trip. There was no big transition period to travelling alone again, I slipped right back into it. I had a mission that day, to visit Myanmar, so I immediately got to work on achieving this (read the Myanmar blog post to hear about that!). And so I entered the final chapter of my journey.

Thai food

I thought I knew Thai food fairly well. Pad thai, soy sauce, pork, all of that stuff. I wasn’t wrong. But wow I’d underestimated it. I think the part I love the most about Thai food is the way you eat it. You never have your own dish, it’s always food for the table shared with everyone. I’m a big advocate for sharing food, mostly because I want to try as much as possible, but also because sharing the experience of a dish makes me happy. This way of eating with Thai food is brilliant as it allows you to appreciate the variety and how well different components come together. Here’s a taste of the food (pun intended):

1. Salads. Papaya salad is my favourite. Shredded unripe papaya, tossed with fish sauce and chilli, other veggies added and peanuts heaped on top. It can do no wrong. The other salads are all equally fresh, spicy and tasty.
2. Stir-fried noodle dishes. Whipped up in a flash in giant woks over high flames appearing from street food carts. We’re talking Pad Thai (less peanutty than ones I’ve had in the UK), Pad Ce-aw (soy sauce based), and other variations. Can’t go wrong with one of these.
3. Stir-fried veg dishes. Same as above but the main component is a green like morning glory (interesting name I know) or pak choy. Drenched in a sticky soy sauce. Often with pork thrown through. There are other varieties with fun stuff like mini aubergines and catfish too. Again, can’t go wrong.
4. Minced meat dishes. Holy basil chicken or pork. Larb. A heavily fragranced minced meat mixture, served with rice and a fried egg. Still can’t go wrong.
5. Saucey dishes. Sweet and sour. Cashew chicken. You know the sort. Delicious every time, although I found the sweet and sour to always be a little too sweet for my taste.
6. Curries. Green curry, red curry, yellow curry, panang curry. As a peanut lover, panang was my favourite but I never had a bad curry!
7. Meat and rice. Crispy pork and rice. Duck and rice. Stewed pork and rice. Red pork and rice. A little on the plain side, apart from the stewed pork which was tasty as hell. But still so good and would really hit the spot after a day of sweating out all of the salt from my body. Served with rice, a soft boiled egg, some saucey greens. Yum.
8. Noodle soups. The one I had was boat noodles which just blew all of the phos in Vietnam out of the water. So rich in flavour (that comes from the literal pig’s blood in the broth…) and filled with good chunks of meat.
9. Soups. Tom Yum, one of my favourite dishes of all time before I’d even been to Thailand. It was a whole new flavour explosion for little Meg the first time I tried it, sat in the Brixton food market in London. The one in Thailand lived up to memory. As did the version with coconut milk.
10. Barbecue dishes. When my family member took me out for dinner on my first night in Bangkok the table was filled with barbecued chicken wings, chicken breast, shrimps and skewers. We ate it with sticky rice. I didn’t even know this was a part of Thai food, but it’s a welcomed addition if not particularly unique.
11. Northern specialties: Khao Soi and Guaeng Huang Lay. The Khao Soi was so good I’ve already mentioned it, but to reiterate it’s a coconut milk-based curry with noodles, topped with crispy fried noodles. It’s not mind-blowing in its flavour, being pretty mellow, but god it’s good. The ultimate cozy food. I don’t know why it’s not bigger outside of Thailand. Curry with noodles? New to me but groundbreaking. Guaeng Huang Lay is a thicker curry compared to other Thai curries, influenced by Burmese cuisine and therefore more Indian-like. Good but forgettable.
12. Desserts. I had heard of mango sticky rice and thought it sounded like a pretty weak dessert. How wrong I was. I don’t know why mango sticky rice is as delectable as it is, or who gave it the right to be, but oh lord it’s wonderful. I think it’s the saltiness of the coconut milk that you drip over the perfectly ripe and super tasty mango (so much better than the ones in the UK) and the sticky rice, contrasted with the sweetness of that mango, and the comforting texture of that sticky rice. I don’t know. It’s just brain-alteringly good. I need to nail cooking sticky rice so I can make platefuls of it at home. Also, it feels like it could be an equally good breakfast food??? (Yes I have already eaten it for breakfast several times and this is just me trying to justify that.) In case you needed other dessert options (you don’t) there are also the Thai roti (square, extra crispy pancakes), fried bananas, and a whole selection of coconut based products from fresh ice cream to strange-textured balls.

Some other bits I love about Thai food is that the portions from street venders are on the smaller side, so you can get a few plates between two and enjoy even more dishes! Also the price is so low it’s silly. One dish would set you back between 40 - 60 baht (90p - £1.40), mango sticky rice is 30 - 50 baht (70p - £1.15).

Just in case it’s not completely clear at this point: I really really really enjoyed eating in Thailand. Thai food is so good and so varied. I never once wanted to eat a different cuisine and I think I could live my whole life eating just Thai food and not get bored. And I wouldn’t say that about any other cuisine…

The only two gaps in my overland travel have been Afghanistan and Pakistan, and Myanmar. There’s not much I can do now to fill in Afghanistan and Pakistan, but I hadn’t given up hope for Myanmar. After speaking to several people who are living there currently, I decided that travelling around the country wasn’t the best idea, and I didn’t particularly want to spend a lot of money there with it going to a completely corrupt and evil military regime. My main reason for wanting to visit Myanmar was simply to experience the country. To speak to people who live there, to look at the streets and the villages, and to try the food. It seemed to me that Myanmar must be the missing piece between the two vastly different countries of India and Thailand. The most testable variable for this is food so this is what I was especially keen to experience. In an ideal world I’d also want to visit the beautiful sights of the country, but for now a quick visit would suffice. So once I’d seen Rosaline off to the airport from our hostel in Chiang Rai I decided I would give it a go.

I packed up my big rucksack and left it in storage at the hostel, taking a small bag with the essentials (a toothbrush and toothpaste, a few pairs of underwear, phone charger etc.). I caught a public bus from Chiang Rai to the border town of Mae Sai. From the bus station a tuktuk shuttle took me the rest of the way to the border. I went to the border point to see if I could get through and before I knew it I was stamped out of Thailand and walking into Myanmar. I was pointed to a dingy office with one lady inside who took me over to a desk and sat me down. I asked if I was allowed to enter the country and she replied yes, for one day. I asked if I could stay overnight if I wanted to and she replied yes again. She took my photo and gave me an entry permit which cost 500 baht (£11), in exchange for my passport which they kept hold of. I did feel slightly uneasy about relinquishing my passport but it seemed very legitimate so I took the chance. The permit allowed me to stay in Myanmar for 14 days, but only in the permitted region, not travel around. It was all very seamless if a bit odd. Halfway through the process a group of young girls came to the door of the office, they were monks dressed in pink robes with a orange sash and shaved heads. The border official gave them some money and they sang/chanted in response. My eyes were wide as I stepped out of the office, armed with my permit card. I felt quite proud and excited as I took my first steps into the country. Then it hit me that I really hadn’t thought I’d get this far, meaning I was woefully unprepared (as evidence by the ‘????’ at this point in my plan for the day)! I had no idea what to do and no internet to look anything up. As I wandered down the street in search of a cafe with wifi to sort myself out I made eye contact with a guy who then said hello. He sounded American which shocked me and we spoke for a bit. Turns out he was a tour guide (or used to be). He suggested we go for tea and I obliged. Over the sweet milky drink (similar to a Thai tea rather than an Indian masala chai) we spoke about Myanmar and his life as I gauged whether or not to trust this man. His name was Slim and he is ethnically Indian, with his great grandparents coming to Myanmar with the British as servants. He grew up in Mandalay but moved to Tachileik (the town we were currently in) a few years ago. Tachileik is in the northeast of the country and the majority ethnicity is Shan. When we started to discuss the political situation he paused, looking around the outdoor cafe to check for anyone listening in first. He offered to guide me around for the day and after settling on a price of 500 baht (£11 again) I agreed. Throughout our day I learnt more about Slim. He told me stories about growing up in Myanmar, going to concerts and raves and there being live music everywhere (he’s a big rock and roll fan). He told me about the racism he’s faced because of his Indian heritage. He told me about the protests he went to whilst at university, avoiding the photos taken by the police which meant he wasn’t arrested like lots of his friends. And about the attitudes towards Suu Kyi (the female leader of Myanmar before the military junta retook control in 2021). He spoke openly and casually with me and I learnt so much.

Driving on the back of Slim’s motorbike we explored Tachileik and the surrounding area. In the town many of the women wore clay-like makeup smeared on their cheeks, and some their noses and foreheads. Slim told me it was a cheap form of make up and also protected against the sun. There were more groups of young girl monks dressed in pink. I’d never seen female monks before. We stopped at two large temples which were both strange. The first because of the cages of animals that surrounded it. I wasn’t too surprised to see peacocks and a goat, but I was quite shocked to see two monkeys and completely floored when I spotted three bears (I think sun bears). The cages were abysmal and it was basically a junkyard. The second temple had been destroyed in an earthquake and was slowly being rebuilt, and it had a maze of stupas (towers with remains buried inside) in the courtyard. What united both temples, and every temple we spotted, were the flock of colourful statues of animals (including dinosaurs) around them, giving them an amusement park vibe. I should add that the temples were Buddhist, with Theravada Buddhism being the main religion in the country, the same as in Thailand and different to the Tibetan Buddhism in India and Nepal. We drove through several villages and they were notably quiet. The houses were similar to rural Thailand but in a slightly less developed way. We drove up to the roadblock that prevented us going any further, and stopped for food at a roadside restaurant. Here my predictions were tested - would Myanmar cuisine be a mix of Indian and Thai? The answer: a resounding yes! I felt a quiet sense of achievement in having predicted correctly. The food was a delectable mixture of the two cuisines, the spice and sourness of the Thai influenced dishes sitting nicely on top of the heavy flavours of the Indian style dishes. I ate the traditional Burmese way, with my hand, just like in India and distinct from the chopsticks often used in Thailand. Back in the town centre I came across a street food stall that had two offerings familiar to me from India and from Thailand respectively, which made me smile. I just had to try a Burmese samosa and almost exclaimed in excitement when the lady smothered it in sweet chilli sauce, a characteristically Thai thing to do. The inside of the samosa was potato and seasoned with cumin seeds. Not quite as delicious as the ones I’d had in India, but distinctly Indian tasting nonetheless.

By the end of my tour with Slim I was exhausted and my brain was full of information and images of Myanmar. I decided I wouldn’t stay overnight. I couldn’t travel anywhere and the border town wasn’t anything special, with the hotels looking average at best and a lot more expensive than my nice hostel back in Chiang Rai. So I took one last loop around the market and then crossed back over the border. There were no issues in exchanging my permit card for my passport thankfully, and I re-entered Thailand with only a little bit of hassle of having to fill out an entry card (not something I’d had to do last time since I flew in). I repeated my earlier journey in reverse and arrived back in Chiang Rai. It was a strange day but I was glad I got to experience Myanmar for myself. I did get some strange looks from other travellers at the hostel that evening when I responded to their “what did you do today?” question with “went to Myanmar”!

Full Moon Check-in

1. Last: On a boat in Ha Long Bay with Rosaline.
2. Current: Walking back from tipsy tubing in Vang Vieng, feeling rather tipsy!
3. Future: In Lombok, at a surf camp.

If you travel around Vietnam you will hear about motorbiking around the north, it’s the done thing to do. What you’ll likely hear about is the Ha Giang loop. It’s a well established 3 or 4 day loop with amazing scenery and zero stress. There are loads of guesthouses that arrange tours which include an ‘easyrider’, a local guy (I didn’t see any women doing it) who drives the motorbike while you sit on the back. As part of a group you’ll tour around the loop, staying at homestays with lots of other people doing the same thing. It’s social and fun. Rosaline and I did this together and had a lovely time. In contrast to this touristy loop, I also did the Cao Bang loop, a little way to the east of the Ha Giang loop. This was a completely different experience. I drove myself and did it all alone (this was whilst Rosaline was doing her exam in Hanoi). I met other tourists only at one homestay and for the rest of the time I didn’t meet anyone other than locals. I had no plan and drove and stopped where I fancied, checking out weird villages and tiny roads that cut along lakes. Here’s an overview of the two experiences.

The Cao Bang loop

Not touristy, drove alone.

My trip got off to a slow start when it took several attempts to find somewhere good to hire a bike from and to get some advice about where to explore. It was the beginning of the afternoon by the time I finally set off, taking just a small bag with me and with a banh mi and some pineapple stored in the seat compartment for lunch. Immediately I felt amazing. The joy of having complete freedom and no plan! The roads were smooth, the bike very fancy and the scenery beautiful. As lovely as it had been to travel with Rosaline, it was exciting to be alone again. I stopped for lunch at the ‘Mountain Eye’, pausing at the top of the hill in surprise at how cool it was. A huge mountain with a hole in it, very Jurassic park looking. I found a rock to perch on and ate my food, watching the buffalo graze and taking in the view. I tried to follow a trail but it quickly disappeared and I eventually had to cut down through a crop field and over a wall to get back to a clear area to walk along. I meandered my way along the roads, taking a turn down a paved track to get a better look at a lake surrounded by the tall hills and came across lots of kids on bikes. They all shouted hello and raced me along the track. I rejoined the main road and continued to a homestay, arriving with lots of time before sunset. The owner didn’t speak any english but refused to let me stay. From what I could understand I needed a special permit from the police to stay overnight in this specific homestay because it fell within an autonomous border region, and it was too late to get the permit that night. Unsure how big this autonomous region was I set back out on the bike feeling a little stressed about finding somewhere I could actually stay - the downside of no planning! Realising that I would make it somewhere before it got properly dark I relaxed into the drive, and actually enjoyed the faster more purposeful driving. The homestay I settled on was lovely, with a huge outdoor terrace directly alongside a river. My dorm room was actual a little private one, albeit a very simply one with the mattress on the floor, a mosquito net and fan. I enjoyed a nice enough meal with two Australian guys. We drank cold beers and relaxed all evening, sitting on the little bamboo raft that was attached to the river bank. The evening was brought to a close when a dog stole my sandal (we got it back don’t worry!).

After a picturesque breakfast, the other tourist at the homestay, an American Malaysian lady called Annie, asked if I wanted to join her for a hike. It sounded like the perfect way to spend the day so I agreed. We hiked for 4 hours, setting off along a gravel track into the hills. Every turn revealed more beautiful scenery. The clouds had drawn in and it drizzled with rain the entire time, a nice reminder of walks back in England. After 2.5 hours of walking we emerged from the hills and joined a small road which we followed back to the homestay, passing through several villages. Here we witnessed rural Vietnam. It was poor. The facilities were similar to Nepal, showers outside for example, but the pride in the home wasn’t there. Peering inside the houses were undecorated, unfurnished, and untidy. There were older farm houses made of wood, and newer ones made of the concrete blocks which looked half finished. There were dogs everywhere and we armed ourselves with sticks and rocks. The people were friendly once spoken to, but gave suspicious looks before this. We saw a wedding and heard lots of karaoke. Annie told me about her 8.5 years in an ashram in India and I enjoyed her advice and view of the world. Arriving back in the late afternoon I drove a little way to a stone village which seemed to be exclusively homestays. I picked one and drank coffee in a cave until dinner. Being the only guest this time, I ate dinner with the family, obliging to the shots of alcohol they gave me. They didn’t speak any english and didn’t seem interested in trying to communicate so it was a quiet meal for me, listening to the flurry of conversation between them and their neighbours.

I killed time so I got to the Ban Gioc waterfall at 11am, the best time to visit as it was when the Chinese stopped diverting the river to the hydroelectric plant. The waterfall was incredibly strange, with China on one side and Vietnam on the other, boats of tourists being launched from both banks. I popped myself on a bench and people watched for a while, finding the whole atmosphere bemusing with its loud music and staged horses for photos. I tried roasted chestnuts for the first time and loved them, stopping frequently on the long scenic drive to admire the view and eat a few more. I had read online about a ‘foraging’ village in the area so visited this. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realise that it was in fact a forging village and I’d misread the article. Finally the swathes of knives for sale on the road made sense! What gave it away was the chorus of clanging metal and every single elevated house having a little forge underneath it. A whole village of forgers, how strange. It seemed diversifying industry really hadn’t caught on here when the village my homestay was in turned out to be an incense village. Every household here made incense sticks, visible in pots alongside the small tracks. I really enjoyed walking around these tiny villages, watching what was going on and being generally nosey. Two old woman sat making, unsurprisingly, incense sticks gestured for me to join them so I did. They showed me the facebook live video of someone singing that they watching, giggling away like little girls as they worked, sharing their snacks with me. It was so lovely to simply sit in their presence, even if we couldn’t communicate. I had a disappointing dinner with one of the dishes being literally a bowl of hot water with potatoes and carrots floating in it, not a flavour in sight. Again I was the only guest, but was sat on a separate table from the family which felt odd and unfriendly. The house was notably bare inside. My accommodation was very pleasant, in a wooden elevated structure with a nice balcony. Sadly, looks were deceiving and I had a traumatic night. The first warning sign was when I noticed the little chocolates I had placed on the table were gone, how confusing. As I settled into bed I was startled by a scuttling sound near my head, then above me along the top of the wall, then under the bed. It dawned on me what had happened to my chocolates - there was a rat! It freaked me out a lot, and I tried to scare it away by turning on the light and thumping the bed. It worked for a bit but then it returned. I gingerly placed my foot on the floor, leaving the safety of the bed, which sent the rat scurrying off, and hurried over to my backpack. I placed the pineapple I had brought for breakfast safely inside and moved the bag up onto the chair (because obviously rats can’t climb right…). I tried to sleep but the rat continued to terrorise me and freak me out. I felt so stressed out by it, cowering in the centre of the bed under the mosquito net which I hoped would also be rat proof, watching the room and the flashes of the rat. I slept with the light on and some music playing for a bit, hoping this would scare it away or at least block out its sounds. Neither worked. I did not get much sleep. Waking early the next morning I put the awful night behind me and enjoyed the gorgeous view out of the door and over the balcony, with the morning mist settling into the crevices of the hills. I went to pack my bag and realised I hadn’t survived the night as unscathed as I’d thought… The rat had chewed through the zip on my bag and had completely broken it, meaning it would no longer zip shut! Feeling exasperated and stressed I informed the owners who couldn’t have cared less and I left in a huff. Over the 45 minute drive back to Cao Bang I tried to not agonise over the rat and the bag issue with little success. I had a bad feeling that something else was going to go wrong that day so was very relieved to return the bike safely! I had a delicious breakfast with the super friendly lady who I rented the bike from and started to feel positive again. On the bus back to Hanoi I realised that it was my fault for the rat issue really, having taken the pineapple up to my room, and that I was very lucky to not know that it was a bad idea, having never had to worry about rats before. Turns out I wasn’t completely wrong with my bad feeling about the day, and my motorbike lift from the bus station to the centre of Hanoi was horrific and I totally thought I was going to die. The old man driving me seemed drunk and chaotic was an understatement for his crazy swerving, shouting and constant spitting and snot rocketing. When he dropped me off at the wrong hotel I didn’t even correct him, leaping off the bike and walking the rest of the way instead. Luckily, I needn’t have stressed about my bag being broken. I found a street full of repair shops and got the zipper replaced in 15 minutes and for a cost of £2. It’s not the best job in the world but it’ll last the rest of the trip.

So, not everything went smoothly on my solo adventure around Cao Bang, but I loved it. It was so much fun to have complete freedom. The scenery was stunning (a given in Northern Vietnam it seems). Having the opportunity to explore tiny villages, observe local life and interact with people was wonderful. It was the only time in Vietnam that I felt like I really experienced local life. After being surrounded by travellers for so long it was also refreshing to get away from the backpacking trail for a few days. The homestays were disappointing compared to the ones I’d had in Central Asia, with the families having no interest in socialising and being unfriendly even. Overall, an imperfectly wonderful few days!

The Ha Giang loop

Touristy, did as part of a group, was a passenger.

After hearing lots of stories from other travellers who had already done the loop, Rosaline and I decided to go with Mama’s house hostel and to both get easyriders (mine was called Ning). Whilst I was happy driving a scooter now, I hadn’t tried a semi-automatic which was needed for the loop and had learnt that I struggled to both admire the view and watch where I was driving! We opted for the four day option (as opposed to the three day one) which cost £150, with all of the accommodation and food included. For comparison, in Cao Bang I spent £50 for four days so it’s a lot cheaper to do it yourself, unsurprisingly. We had a very confusing and disorganised start but once we set off in our group of 13 it calmed down. The next four days were spent sat on the bag of a motorbike, listening to Rosaline and I’s spotify blended playlist under our helmets, enjoying the most magnificent views and often holding our arms out like we were on the Titanic. We drove in our group the whole time, stopping frequently to look out from viewpoints, walk to the Chinese border, swim at waterfalls and eat ice creams. After mid-morning on the second day our group did fall to 11 members after one of the people self-driving had a crash which saw her cut up her chin pretty badly and chip a tooth. Luckily it wasn’t more serious! She and her husband left for the hospital and sadly didn’t return. The rest of our group was made up of two guys from India and all of the others were dutch and of a similar age to us. This was great for Rosaline who could chat away in dutch with them all, but less great for me. It was actually the first time in my trip where I felt isolated because of language, with the people around me not switching to english to accommodate for me. On one hand, I’m glad I got to experience that isolation so I can be more sympathetic to others who aren’t super fluent in english, and it made me realise how fortunate I am that people have always accommodated me in the past. On the other hand, it was isolating and did start to get to me a bit after four days. Luckily, in the evenings we combined with several other groups to create a mega group at the homestays. Whilst most of these people were also dutch and stuck to speaking dutch, there were other nationalities too so I could speak english with them. The evenings were passed by socialising, eating basically the exact same meal and playing cards. Oh, and also drinking rounds and rounds of ‘Happy water’, a rice wine spirit that left a lot to be desired. It was a lot of fun but did give me school trip vibes sometimes. Whilst the social side wasn’t exactly the best experience for me, the scenery really was. Blessed with perfect clear weather everyday, we were treated to far and wide views of tree covered karsts, snaking roads, deep valleys and terraced hillsides. Unlike in Cao Bang, we were often above the scenery here, looking down on it from brilliant viewpoints. The colours were vibrant even against the bright sun. The driving was enjoyable and the roads were good, with the exception of day three where lots of it was on a dirt track under construction. We got covered in dust and it was hairy at times. But after this was my favourite bit of driving. It was golden hour and the sun was just beginning to set. We flew down a long, steady hill to descend into a valley. The views to the left were stretching and drenched in that soft glow. We overtook each other on the bikes and you could tell everyone felt the same - in awe at the surroundings and exhilarated by the drive. We arrived to our final homestay on this high and enjoyed the fact it had a pool, watching the rest of the sunset from here over a cold beer. Whilst driving through the villages we saw lots of sights, including a huge live pig being transported strapped to the back of a motorbike. It was really interesting to drive through these places and be able to look into the eyes of the people there as you drove past. We saw children playing, happily shouting hello to us, some even stretching their hands out to high five. We saw children with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, walking alone along roads in the searing heat or sat under umbrellas selling things. We saw women together, laughing. And we saw a woman sat crumbled on the ground looking utterly defeated. It really made clear the different sides to rural, village life in developing countries. We never stopped and interacted with people in these villages sadly, I felt a lot more like just an observer than in Cao Bang. So that was the infamous Ha Giang loop!

Rosaline and I spent a little over 3 weeks in Vietnam. A little over 2 of those weeks were spent in the North, hence the quick run up Vietnam title. I’ll talk you through our journey.

Phnom Penh → Ho Chi Minh → Hoi An → Hanoi → Ha Long Bay → Ninh Binh → Hanoi → Cao Bang → Hanoi → Ha Giang → Hanoi

Phnom Penh → Ho Chi Minh → Hoi An → Hanoi

From Phnom Penh, Cambodia, we took a rather nice bus to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam. I really rate SE Asian buses, they have ample leg room, the seats recline right back, and on this one we were given delicious croissants and iced coffee! The border was seamless and soon enough we arrived in the city. We had only 24 hours in Ho Chi Minh but that was enough for me to be honest. It was just a big city. I quite liked its architecture, a mix of french colonial, soviet style concrete and modern glass skyscrapers, creating a collage effect. It was clean but the roads were busy. It was full of lovely cafes and restaurants, but the streets themselves weren’t particularly nice. A part from cafe hopping and getting our first tastes of Vietnamese food (hello Banh Mi) we saw fireworks in the evening for Reunification Day (the anniversary of the halves of Vietnam being reunited into one country) and went to the War Remnants Museum. Doing this so soon after the museums in Phnom Penh did make us both feel slightly overwhelmed by the cruelness of humans. This manifested physically with us both needing to use the herbal inhaler my family member gave me in Thailand (clearly I looked very stressed then) to fight off any fainting; with Rosaline having a little cry outside; and with my arse sweating in the most strange place leaving a very odd mark on my shorts. Perhaps some of it was the unbelievable heat and humidity. We caught an overnight train from Ho Chi Minh to Hoi An, travelling for 19 hours in a carriage that was reminiscent of the ones in Central Asia. I passed the evening by writing a blog post and snacking on apples and peanut butter. Rosaline replied to work emails and tried to make headway in applying for her Indian research visa.

Arriving into Da Nang (not Hoi An directly sadly) another backpacker found us and we all got a taxi together into Hoi An itself, about 40 minutes away. We spent 3 days here. Hoi An is incredibly touristy but in that small seaside town in Cornwall way, rather than the strip in Malaga. The little streets of the old town are narrow, with paper lanterns crossing overhead, lots of the buildings are a rich yellow colour, there are bright flowers crawling up the bricks. Inside the buildings are the usual touristy shops, which in Vietnam includes a lot of coffee beans. At night, the lanterns are lit up and the area around the river becomes alive with people and vendors. This is when Hoi An does cross into the Malaga strip style touristy and I didn’t find it very beautiful despite all of the lanterns and little boats on the water. One look at the bars with neon signs and you were taken from any feeling of authenticity. But did we enjoy going to these bars and dancing all night? Yes of course. I’m not saying I’m not a hypocrite, I am also a tourist at the end of the day. Back from the old town you’ll find slightly less beautiful streets, nice coffee shops and a huge number of tailors. Hoi An is famous for its tailoring so it seemed rude to not partake. Rosaline and I both got measured up which was an interesting experience. Rosaline got a lovely skirt made, and a full suit (yep I was also nervous about how she’d fit it into her backpack but she managed!). I opted for a linen waistcoat. Other activities included walking through harvested rice fields to the beach, spotting buffalo, and a cooking class. This cooking class was much better than the one in Cambodia, much less rushed and I felt like I actually cooked the dishes myself. It oddly included a coconut boat ride which was the epitome of touristy but quite fun. We were paddled along little rivers by a lady covered up completely, including gloves (people here really don’t want to get a tan as it suggests you work outside which is for people of a lower class). We watched men spin in their boats to Gangnam Style loudly played through a huge speaker on another little boat. We watched a man fake fish. We were given a little rod and told to fish for a crab. When we didn’t immediately catch one the rod was snatched away and we were moved on. Like I said, odd. From Hoi An we caught a train overnight to Hanoi, travelling for 17 hours. We passed the evening in much the same way as last time, but also eating the cobbled together dinner of a Banh Mi and some salads.

We arrived into Hanoi for the first time, but not the last! We spent only one night here for now, getting picked up the following morning for our Ha Long Bay tour. After consulting my lonely planet guidebook (taken from a hostel in Cambodia) it seemed the best way to visit the infamous bay was through a tour. We opted for an overnight trip rather than a one day tour as the price difference wasn’t crazy and it allowed for a much more relaxing experience.

Ha Long Bay tour

Transported to Ha Long Bay from Hanoi by minibus we stopped at a pearl farm museum and learnt how pearls are made, which was actually really interesting. It was quite hectic at the dock but we quickly boarded a little boat which took us to our cruise boat (I won’t call it a ship as it was tiny). There were only around 17 of us so you can imagine just how small the boat was. We dropped our bags into our room which was private (the luxury!) and very nice. Just before we were served lunch, our guide made a joke to a british guy travelling alone about not being late and he completely lost it. This man went mental shouting at the poor guide about how it “wasn’t on to call him out in front of everyone” and they should “take it outside” etc. The rest of us sat in a stunned silence, staring at the table. Rosaline and I both wanted to say something but also thought the man was so unhinged he might murder us in our sleep if we did. It did provide some entertainment I suppose, but really it was just disgraceful behaviour. Anyway, the boat sailed us through Ha Long Bay for several hours and this is when it struck me how huge the bay is. Ha Long Bay is famous as a bay filled with Karsts, a new word I’ve learnt which describes the columns of rock that appear from nowhere. I was imagining a little bay with maybe 50 of them. In reality, Ha Long Bay covers an area of 1,553 km² with 2000 karsts! Sat in our bikinis looking out at this insane scenery from the roof deck of the boat - it was a pretty cool experience, and we were lucky to get such clear weather. The afternoon was filled with activities that I did not rate highly. We were shuttled through a cave which was unbelievable packed and whilst being very huge, wasn’t that impressive. Then we were shuttled onto an equally packed island to swim on its overcrowded tiny beach. Why we couldn’t drive the boat to an empty space in the huge expanse of the area and swim there I don’t know. The water was pleasantly cool and very needed to wash off the sweat. Although we rose from the water dirtier than when we entered, realising a film of grime was covering our skin. You had to pay to use the showers so Rosaline and I washed each other down using the bathroom sinks before hurrying back to the meeting point to return to our boat. Watching the sunset from the boat made up for the strange afternoon activities. The only meh bit was the fact we were parked up around all of the other boats. I’m guessing there’s some regulation that prevents the boats going to find a quiet spot and parking alone but it’s a shame. After having a proper shower we got dressed up and enjoyed cocktails on the deck whilst making spring rolls and then having dinner. We had an unsuccessful squid fishing attempt and relaxed on the deck, taking in the full moon and the outline of the karsts that surrounded us. The following morning we woke up for sunrise, popped our heads out of the room to see it was misty and returned to bed, secretly a bit happy. I got up again an hour later and did yoga on the roof - definitely a contender for the best yoga spot of the trip! We went to a pearl farm and visited a museum with the exact same exhibits as the one the previous day which made for a, unsurprisingly, boring visit. More excitingly we got into kayaks here and were able to paddle around, becoming more immersed in the scenery. Back on the boat we returned through the bay and I once again enjoyed just sitting and watching the karsts pass by. At the dock we were transferred to a bus and shipped back to Hanoi. I slept the entire bus journey, completely worn out from all of the excitement (and sea air).

Ha Long Bay → Ninh Binh → Hanoi

A brief one hour after being dropped in Hanoi from our Ha Long Bay cruise we got a bus to Ninh Binh. While the buses themselves have all been wonderful in SE Asia, the act of getting on them always seems to have a lot of unnecessary steps. Repeatedly we arrive at the pick-up spot and are put into a bus or car, for this bus or car to only take us to another point 10 - 30 minutes away where we are moved into a second bus. Sometimes this happens again when we arrive. We’re never told what’s going on so it can be a bit confusing. We make it to Ninh Binh eventually, or more specifically to Tam Coc which is just to the west of the city. We rent a scooter here and Rosaline trusts me with her life for the first time, hopping on the back as we explore the area. It was one of my favourite days in SE Asia so far. The scenery was absolutely unbelievable. People say Ninh Binh is like Ha Long Bay on land and that’s a spot on description. The same karst structures rise out of the fields from nowhere. Somehow it’s even more striking than Ha Long Bay, I think because of how close the karsts are and how green everything is. We both gawked as we zoomed through the beauty, wind in our hair and excitement in our bones. We made several stops at viewpoints, pagodas, for lunch, and to swap over driver/passenger with me putting my life in Rosaline’s hands. On our way back, as if to remind us of the negatives of exploring by scooter, we saw the aftermath of a crash and stopped to help. Well, Rosaline helped as a medic and I just offered my hand to the poor girl to squeeze. Luckily it wasn’t anything serious, just lots of skin lost to scrapes. As awful as it was, it was cool to see Rosaline in full doctor mode and to realise that we’re actually adults now and have skills to offer the world. Rosaline, wisely, called it a day once we got back to the hostel but I decided to make use of the last bit of daylight to explore one more pagoda. The drive over in the golden hour lighting was absolutely stunning. I just could not get over the karsts rising up from the fields. The pagoda was cute and on my way back I took a left taking a cool looking track through the fields. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake as it got dark and the track become a muddy path. I skidded a few times and did have a minor fall but managed to hold it together long enough to get back on tarmac. Feeling a bit overwhelmed I returned to the hostel, relaxing on the drive. A small, but still quite fun, blip in a truly wonderful day exploring some of the most gorgeous scenery I’ve ever seen. On our last morning in Ninh Binh we went out for a boujee breakfast of smoothie and granola bowls and coconut coffee. The occasion? My one year travel anniversary! (There’s a separate post discussing that milestone). We caught a bus back to Hanoi where Rosaline and I checked into separate places. Don’t worry, we hadn’t fallen out! Even more depressing than that, Rosaline had an online exam to sit for her masters which meant she would be staying in a hotel for a week and I would be entertaining myself. Poor Rosaline.

I spent 2 nights in Hanoi, finally taking the time to properly take in the city. It was much more like Kathmandu than it was Ho Chi Minh. It was rough around the edges. The streets were filled with little market shops, selling random goods, and street food vendors. Interspersed were nice looking cafes, which became more frequent as we neared the more touristy area. It was quite dirty and the streets felt dark and oppressive sometimes. I liked the energy of the city, but I wouldn’t call it pretty. I did a walking tour which was very relaxed and casual, not much history sadly, but a good way to socialise. I met lots of lovely people, it is crazy what a difference it makes to travel alone versus with someone in that aspect. I went to the women’s museum the next day with some of the girls I met on the walking tour and was impressed with it, learning about women’s roles in Vietnam and differences in ethnic groups. Train street, a narrow street directly surrounding a train track, was very cool and I visited it both during the day and at night, getting to see a train pass through. It was a bit manic with police saying you weren’t allowed to walk down the street sometimes, but definitely worth seeing. I continued to explore Hanoi whenever I returned in between destinations. There’s a lot to see there, but nothing too special for me.

Hanoi → Cao Bang → Hanoi → Ha Giang → Hanoi

From Hanoi I caught a bus up to the relatively unknown Cao Bang, where I hired a scooter and drove around for a few days. I returned to Hanoi to collect Rosaline after her exam (woo she finished!) and we both travelled up to Ha Giang by bus. Here we did the infamous Ha Giang loop before returning to Hanoi one last time. I’ve covered Cao Bang and Ha Giang in a separate post as this one is already too long!

Thoughts on Vietnam
First off, the scenery is stunning and varied and green and unique. The people are kind but shy. The food, well read below for my views on that. I had a feelng that Vietnam would be my favourite of the SE Asian countries, and I did really likely it, but I’m not sure it’s going to get the top spot. I just didn’t love enough about it.

Let’s talk about Vietnamese coffee! Oh and food

You may be picking up from the heading that I was more impressed with the coffee than the food in Vietnam, and you would be correct. The food actually really disappointed me. The flavours were always tame, the textures were meh and nothing was that exciting. People weren’t exaggerating when they said it was a lot of noodles, as this was pretty much every dish. It was also the ambience. In Cambodia and Thailand the street food is in the form of little stands, either permanent or on wheels, with tiny plastic stalls and tables alongside them on the roads. In Vietnam, the street food is in little shops along the streets, with the same plastic stalls and tables on the pavement out front. I loved this form less. Some dishes worth mentioning:

1. Pho. Easily the most famous Vietnamese dish. Noodles in a broth. I’m sure it’s my western palate but I found the Phos I’ve had in England better. Here they lacked flavour and were quite watery. Other noodle soups we tried are Cao Lau (preferred this to Pho), and Bun Rieu Cua (tomato and crab based).
2. Banh Mi. There’s that french colonial influence. Baguettes with grated veggies and chilli paste, filled with combinations of pate and meat. In general, underwhelming. The bread was often hollow and either too crispy or soft. The meat wasn’t that tasty. The veg was sparing and watery tasting. The pate could be absolutely delicious and was often the saving grace. They made a good lunch but I won’t be crying about missing them when I’m home. There was a deconstructed version of banh mi, with a hot pan filled with meat and sauce and egg, a bit like a shaksuka, with a baguette on the side. This was more my vibe but sadly the one I tried was a bit meh.
3. Bun Cha. This was very delicious. It comes in three parts: a bowl of vermicelli noodles, a bowl of broth with pork and meatballs in, a bowl of salad and fresh herbs. Spoonful by spoonful (or more accurately, chopstickful by chopsickful) you dip the salad and noodles into the broth and eat. The broth is a lot more flavourful than with pho, but it is very sweet. The pork was also tastier, having a grilled or barbecued flavour. We ate it several times which shows we enjoyed.
4. Banh Bao. Bao buns are one of my favourite foods back home, but again I found them disappointing here. There was always a minuscule amount of filling inside, and it wasn’t even tasty!
5. Banh Cuon. On my last morning, with my last 25k dong in my pocket, I walked past a little shop selling Banh Cuon, something that had been on my radar to try. I swung in and squeezed myself behind the lady, watching her cook my order fresh in front of my eyes. It was a rice dough filled with lightly spiced minced pork, topped with crispy shallots and served with a sweet fish sauce dip with more shallots inside. It was super good, maybe because of how fresh it was. Halfway through the plate I realised that it was basically a southeast asian version of the burek - the meat filled pastry that had been a constant in the Balkans and Turkey! How cute.
6. Homestay food. Oddly never a noodle in sight. Always a number of dishes, primary flavour is salt in all of them. Not much else going on.

I had high hopes for Vietnamese food and these were in no way met. I hadn’t expected much of Vietnamese coffee and was taken aback by how good it all was! The coffee offering was a lot more diverse than the food:

1. Your standard Vietnamese coffee. Made with fine robusta coffee grounds in a little metal thing that sits on top of your glass, the coffee slowly drips through. It forms a thick and dark coffee with an equally thick and dark flavour (if you can imagine that). Traditionally served with condensed milk but always available black as well.
2. Egg coffee. Infamous, especially in Hanoi. Really didn’t expect much. Totally blown away. Half black Vietnamese coffee, half egg yolks whipped up with condensed milk. They sit separate to create a visual wonder. Mixed up before drinking to create a coffee meringue like substance. Not too sweet, not too bitter, just perfect. Will be finding a place that does a good one in London.
3. Coconut coffee. Sounds nice, tastes even nicer. Coffee with coconut milk and coconut ice cream, shavings of coconut on top.
4. Yogurt coffee. Same as above with it sounding nice and tasting even nicer. Coffee with milk and yogurt.
5. Weasel coffee. Bear with me on this one… Coffee beans are fed to weasels, they poo them out and this is collected and processed to create weasel coffee. I ignored the ethical issues and tried one cup. I couldn’t believe the flavour, it tasted like it had been brewed with vanilla pods. I don’t know what those weasels do to the coffee but I respect them for it.

09/05/23 marks one year since I left England. That’s one year on the road baby! One year living out of a backpack, sleeping in a different bed every few nights, always being on the move. I’ve had some of the best experiences of my life. And I’ve had some really tough moments. I’ve been exhausted, frustrated and lonely. Looking at it as a complete picture, the good and the bad, it’s been the most wonderful thing I’ve done in my life. This is just a little post to update the stats, and talk about my favourite and least favourite parts of travel.

The stats

Countries visited: 27
Stamps in passport: 50 (the more recent countries have been very stamp heavy!)
Overnight buses/ferries/trains: 19
Distance travelled (according to polarsteps): 24,935 miles

My favourite parts of long-term travel

No specific moments here but some overarching themes.

• Feeling like an anthropologist or a journalist, trying to understand the culture of each country by observing every detail, asking questions to locals, noticing patterns. Being rewarded at the end with a strong sense of what that country is like and the mindset people have. Even better than this is noticing the gradual shifts between countries, experiencing how England becomes the Balkans, which becomes India, which becomes Vietnam. There are no unexplained, big leaps. Culture, food, architecture, religion - it all overlaps and slowly melts into the next. The history of human movement and impact is there for you to experience.
• Having moment after moment where you sit and grin, feeling so grateful for the experience you’re currently having. I’ve had this moment watching sunsets and sunrises, looking out at stunning scenery, jumping into cold water on a hot day, cradling a hot drink on a cold day, after the first mouthful of a delicious meal, feeling the adrenaline subside after doing something risky, sitting reading surrounded by others doing the same. Being so very happy so often is wonderful.
• Meeting people who you just click with. You can laugh with them like you’ve been friends for years. You can discuss topics that ignite the energy behind both of your eyes. Also meeting people who expand your outlook on life. People who live in a completely different way to anything you’ve come across, or who are from backgrounds you’ve never encountered, or just with a whole different take on life.

My least favourite parts of long-term travel

I wouldn’t change any part of travelling. The less fun bits are important, they provide a challenge and give that feeling of a reward. But these are the bits I find less fun:

• The lack of good quality sleep. Getting up really early to catch a bus or watch the sunrise, going to bed really late after socialising, hardly getting any sleep on a night bus, loud people in the dorm room waking you up, uncomfortable beds, snorers… It all leads to permanent minor sleep deprivation.
• Very rarely being able to properly unpack and settle into a space. Living out of a backpack isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but having to cram everything in whenever you move on isn’t very fun. Also not being able to buy nice souvenirs or items you see, knowing that it will make the zipping-up-the-bag struggle even worse!
• The social exhaustion of meeting new people constantly and often having the exact same conversation, which becomes extremely dull and tiring I can assure you!
• An inconsistent diet leading to serious bowel issues. This is definitely my least favourite part of travel. Your diet changes so much from the usual one at home, and when you’re moving across countries it continues to change every few weeks. Any routine in eating is also out of the window. It’s impossible to eat at the same time each day, or the same size portion of food. I’ve especially struggled with the effects of this. Some of it is self-inflicted. I want to try all of the local food so will mostly only eat this, never going for western options (a part from in Central Asia when I, not to be dramatic, already felt the effects of malnutrition). The local food in most places has lacked the amount of fibre you should have in your diet, contributing to the problem hugely. I also want to save money which lends itself to eating a lot of food infrequently, filling up on free buffet breakfasts or making the most of the whole portion served in a restaurant, meaning I can skip a meal. Stomach issues are one aspect of travel that I wouldn’t mourn the loss of…

The faces of Meg whilst on the move

A lot of travel is focused on the experience once you’ve arrived somewhere. In homage to the overlooked aspect of actually travelling, here’s a collage of pictures of me on the move, ladled with bags, often exhausted and slightly stressed. They’re in chronological order so enjoy the transition of hot to cold to hot climate, and haircut and growth! The behind the scenes of travelling. The bit people might find less glamorous…

The last leg

The end date of my trip is beginning to come into sight. I start my job in London at the end of August so will return to England sometime in July to sort myself out. I don’t have an exact date yet, nor an end location. Deciding what to do with my last 2 and a bit months has been a fun but difficult exercise, but I think I have a rough idea now. If you read my Bangkok post you’ll know I regret skipping Myanmar and after considering it further I’ve decided to at least try to visit it overland. My rough plan for now is to finish off northern Vietnam, spend a few weeks in Laos, see northern Thailand, cross into Myanmar and travel down before crossing back into Thailand to do an island in the south, get a ferry to Malaysia and another ferry to Sumatra. Do one last workaway on the little island Nias. Fly home from Singapore or Jakarta. Wish me luck!

It was only a short stint in Cambodia, just 2 weeks. I do feel you can slightly compensate for a lack of time in a country by engaging with it fully. Every tuktuk ride my eyes would be pouring over the streets, my attention given fully to seeing this country. I spent every bus journey listening to podcasts on its history. When I met someone who had travelled around more of it or for longer I asked them about their experiences and opinions. So despite the short time spent in Cambodia, I’ve left with a relatively strong feel for it. The people are smiley and friendly and welcoming, but outside of the cities many seem bored, with not much to fill their time. The scenery is not as green as I expected, but that makes sense seeing as it was the hottest time of the year and pre-monsoon. In the countryside, life is farming and this is basic. Modern machinery like tractors are few and far between with iron buffalo (a motorised ploughing device that still needs to be guided by a person walking behind it) being commonly used. The cities are very modern in comparison, and everything in them seems quite new, probably because it is. The echo of french colonialism is present but it’s quiet. Cambodia is strongly Cambodian. But what it means to be Cambodian seems hushed. The nationalism or culture is not loud or in your face. This is almost seen tangibly in the food, which is so soft and subtle in flavour, lacking any spice usually. I enjoyed Cambodia and I wouldn’t be against going back for longer to properly get a feel for it, but it’s not a priority. It doesn’t rank too highly on my list.

Our journey

I was overwhelmed by the modernity of Bangkok and felt shaken by it. It wasn’t what I’d become used to and, evidently, what I’d become comfortable with. As I watched out of the window of the bus which took us over the border into Cambodia I was almost thankful to see the familiar sights of little huts selling food, individual cows and buffalo wandering around, and people in the fields using ancient looking machinery. It feels strange to say that those sights made me feel at home, but in a way they did. The border crossing was unbelievably easy, mostly because we’d paid an extra $7 to get the VIP package with our bus ticket (not something I would ever normally do but as it was Rosaline’s first crossing we thought why not) and were waved through with the bus company dealing with our visas for us.

Siem Reap

First stop was Siem Reap, a city in the Northwest of the country. It was fine, a very touristy pedestrianised centre with a big street named ‘Pub Street’ and a river with pretty bridges arching over it. Unlike the scenery we’d seen on the drive across the country, it was relatively modern. The hostel was lovely, more like a fun hotel with clean and modern rooms and a big pool. I could get used to this standard of hostel for only £5! We stayed three nights here and had quite a busy time. The first morning we went for sunrise at the infamous Angkor Wat temple complex. The sunrise wasn’t very beautiful because of the clouds/smog and the remaining beauty was tarred by the talk of a particularly arrogant guy on the tour with us from the hostel. Angkor Wat is the name of the largest and most famous temple in the complex, but the complex is ginormous with 72 temples. It was the old capital of the Khmer empire in the 9th - 15th Century. Our tour guide was rubbish so I didn’t learn any more than that from the experience. The temples were impressive but without the history and context I wasn’t so interested. They reminded me of the ones I’d seen in Mexico, but that experience was more enjoyable. The second temple had been half absorbed by the jungle and it was the one used for filming in Tomb Raider. On the final of the three temples we visited Rosaline was bitten by a monkey which tried to steal her sunglasses. After the tour guide continued to be useless, we decided to leave the tour early to go to a hospital and get her the antibiotics and rabies jabs she needed, which we managed to sort fairly stress free. Now she’s fully recovered and safely out of the rabies window, I’d like to point out that this was the first hospital visit of my entire trip and it wasn’t even for me!

On our second day we visited the APOPO charity site which uses trained Pouched African rats to detect landmines, getting to watch the giant rats in action in a demonstration and hold the big guys. Cambodia has a huge number of leftover landmines from the crazy decades of history I’ve covered in a separate post, and these are continuing to injury people and prevent the use of valuable farmland. It was a strange but cool organisation to visit. In the afternoon we did a cooking class where we whipped up 4 Khmer dishes in record time. I’m not sure why exactly we were rushed through it at the speed we were, but it did add an element of adrenaline that was quite exciting. It did hinder being able to remember what we actually did however, so I’m not sure how faithful my recreations at home will be. An added bonus of the cooking class was going to the local wet market to pick up the produce. Watching the british girls’ reactions of fish being bludgeoned to death suddenly was quite entertaining. My personal highlight of Siem Reap was a trip to a floating village we arranged ourselves, convincing two others to join us. At this point I’d like to introduce Nathan (British) and Sarah (Canadian) who would feature across our time in Cambodia. We got a tuktuk for over an hour to the rural village along a river which fed into the Tonle Sap lake. It was dry season so the floating village was only floating on air, but this meant the stilts and height of the houses was available for inspection. Looking at the flimsy pieces of wood holding them up I’m not sure my Dad would have approved of the structural integrity of them, but they seemed to do the job. The homestay was more of a rustic boutique dorm room, with beds suspended from the ceiling on ropes and an uninterested family running it. Exploring the village was more fun, with every child wanting to talk to us and to high five us. They were full of excitement and it was hard to not catch some of it. We spent the evening trying to avoid being bitten to death by mosquitoes and playing cards. On our journey back to Siem Reap we asked the tuktuk to pull over at one of the hundreds of little stalls selling bamboo tubes being smoked over a fire, wanting to try one of them. The bamboo was filled with sticky coconut milk rice and soy beans, and it was delicious in the same way that coconut porridge with muesli is. So Siem Reap was packed to the rafters with activities, more than I’d usually do in 3 or 4 places combined! The change of pace in travelling style was a bit of a shock and definitely not one that could be sustained for too long. Luckily our next destination was all about relaxing…

Koh Rong Sanloem

It had been almost 6 months since I’d seen the sea so I was seeping with excitement as I was crammed alongside Rosaline in the shared bed on the sleeper bus to the port town of Sihanoukville. From here a short ferry ride took us to the small island of Koh Rong Sanloem, and from the concrete jetty a little boat took us round to the next bay. There are no roads on the island so boat is the main way to get around. We hopped off the boat into water that was knee deep and held our bags clear, wading up to the white sand beach and towards the wooden huts scattered just past the tree line. This was the little hostel resort we’d be staying at for a few days, completely isolated from anything else. Definitely a unique hostel experience! We bed down in one of the small huts, shared with two aussie guys which I was extremely thankful for when two huge bugs appeared on my bed one day! Arriving extremely hot and sweaty we changed into our bikinis and immediately headed to the water for a refreshing dip. As we ran in we both slowed and let out a disappointed “oh”. The water was like a bath, insanely warm and in no way the cold dip we were hoping for. We spent two days relaxing, although in typical us fashion we somehow still remained busy. In our little gang with Nathan and Sarah, and some others we picked up, we did yoga led by me and a salsa class led by Rosaline. We swam a lot and read a lot and dozed a lot. In the evenings we also drank a lot, with Rosaline nailing the Karaoke night. There were lots of very nice people at the hostel, which was lucky since you were basically stuck with them! We took the free shuttle boat back round to the main bay one afternoon and trekked across the narrow island to the other side. With a view out west we were able to watch the sunset, or watch the sun go behind the low cloud. We walked with a group of us and played frisbee in the sea before each taking our own space to watch the sunset alone. I like it when that happens when travelling. When a group activity ends with everyone organically going to experience something alone, but together. I sat in a hammock listening to some music. Less tranquil was our journey back. The walk was fine, sweaty and mosquito heavy but balanced out by the several hornbills we saw. Back at the main bay it proved much harder than imagined to get a boat back to the hostel. Rosaline and I asked a man waiting and he offered to take two of us on the taxi boat he had called. Looking at the 6 others behind us I felt very guilty on taking him up on the offer, leaving them stranded on the pier, but they insisted we go! Everyone else did make it home safely, 3 of them were able to find a different taxi boat and the remaining 3 trekked through the jungle back, at night, with no headtorches, so I was understandably relieved when they arrived sweat covered back at the hostel! It was just the perfect island get away. The huts were basic and exactly what I was looking for. Couldn’t recommend more (it was Mad Monkey hostel)!

Kampot

It was a short journey from the island to Kampot. The place itself was of a similar vibe to Siem Reap but a lot less touristy. Our hostel was once again lovely and with a nice pool. Kampot is famous for the Kampot pepper (of the salt and pepper variety) grown there, so of course we had to head to a pepper plantation to learn more about it. I had strangely high expectations for the plantation and, incredibly, they were exceeded. Set up by a French and Belgian couple the plantation serves as the best example of eco-social-tourism I’ve come across. They seem to have considered everything with its impact on the environment and the community and the overall experience as a visitor was just amazing. The tour and tasting were completely free too. One interesting titbit from the tour of the site is that, like with tea, all types of pepper (red, black, green, white) come from the exact same plant, what differs is the age and processing. The plantation was called ‘Le Plantation’ if you want to check it out! One afternoon I went for a stroll around the town alone, whilst Rosaline was busy with some work. As I was munching on the pork steamed bun I’d bought for lunch I came across two men playing a strange board game. They pulled up a chair for me to sit, providing some unexpected mealtime entertainment. I tried to grasp the rules of the game but to me it just seemed like chess with some different pieces that moved in slightly different ways. When the older man won comfortably in a frenzied end game I thanked them and said goodbye. A random highlight of Kampot for me was the insanely good breakfast we had one morning (I had a stacked breakfast bagel which was just to die for) which included a free round of mini golf!

After noticing how quiet and nice the roads were on our trip to the pepper plantation, I decided that this would be the perfect spot to try out a moped for the first time. I had tried to drive one once before whilst on holiday in Italy and it hadn’t gone well at all, but I felt a lot stronger and more capable than I was then. Powered by this confidence I paid the $4 hire fee for the afternoon, but was secretly relieved when he gave me the smallest of the mopeds parked up. With a helmet that was the same awful shade of green as my sunglasses I practiced going up and down the road a couple of times before deciding I felt great and could totally do this. Sarah had joined me and together we set off with no real aim. We reached a mangrove forest which we explored briefly, then we went our separate ways and I drove through small villages to a cave. I stopped at a train track that seemed so out of place, cutting through a dusty village with greenery lining either side, to watch a man and his son herd their cows. Overall, the first try of scooter riding went swimmingly and I was sad to hand the keys back. I’m looking forward to doing lots more in Vietnam…

Phnom Penh

A short 4 hour bus journey brought us to our final stop in Cambodia, the capital Phnom Penh. When I woke up from my nap on the bus to see the city for the first time I couldn’t believe my eyes. The rural, developing countryside that had been outside of the window the whole time was suddenly flashy glass buildings, huge lit up signs, showrooms of every brand of fancy car in existence. It wasn’t tacky nor shabby. It was all squeaky clean and brand new looking. I felt viscerally shocked in way I had never experienced when entering a new place. Looking at the view from the hostel rooftop it was a skyline of skyscrapers and lights. It could’ve been London if London was clean and all of the buildings were new. Exploring the next day it was confrontational; the way the people lived and the city they lived in. The developing lifestyle remained, huge markets where people squatted down, cutting up fruit or bamboo, rubbish everywhere. But beyond the street, the glass skyscrapers were visible. Never have I seen a city where the architecture and the life within are so contrasting. These new skyscrapers were clearly not built by or for Cambodian people. Walking around the streets by our hostel in search of dinner we had a new shock when it dawned on us we were in the red light district. Plastic chairs were set up in rows outside of bars, arranged like in a school assembly, with girls sat on them. It was so strange and picturing someone going into the rows to pick a girl seemed even stranger. If you can’t tell from my description, Phnom Penh was not my favourite place. I found it an incredibly strange city and not a particularly pleasant one. We visited the Genocide museum and the Killing Fields here, but I’ve discussed these in the post about Cambodian History. From here we caught a very comfortable bus to Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam, going through another easy border.

The food

Main dishes:

1. Fish Amok - a coconut milk based curry that’s very soft in flavour. Very yummy but nothing much to it.
2. Beef Loklak - a black pepper sauce covering thin strips of beef, served with rice and a fried egg. Simple but delicious.
3. Green mango salad - shredded mango with some shredded cucumber and tomatoes, an acidic dressing and peanuts. Very fresh and tasty, although we did have one bad one so not as dependable as it sounds.
4. Khmer red curry - a coconut milk based curry filled with potatoes and vegetables. A bit more tasty than the Amok but still very soft flavours.
5. Sandwich - Cambodian version of the Vietnamese sandwiches (Banh Mi). Filled with pate, pork, pickled veg and chilli. The one I tried was disappointing. The baguette was meh and as was the filling.

And then lots of fried rice, fried noodles, fried veg. Overall, a little bland and nothing too special. Surprisingly, not spicy at all. I can see why Thai and Vietnamese food overshadow it.

As a lover of Russian history because of its insanely ruthless leaders, strange ideological plans, and pure chaos, I held it as the most prominent example of all of these things in history. Then I started to research Cambodian history. How wrong I was. I have never come across a history as messy and unbelievable as theirs, including a period of absolute terror to the likes I couldn’t even imagine before. Yes I’d been vaguely familiar with the Khmer Rouge and had watched the film ‘First they killed my Father’, but I did not comprehend the full atrocities which took place. Nor did I have any idea of what came before or after. Learning, and hopefully understanding, history like this is one of the most valuable aspects of travel for me. After visiting the Killing Fields and Genocide museum I felt like I needed to write the history down so I didn’t forget it. I also want to share it here as it’s a slice of history I think we should be more than just vaguely aware of.

My summary of the insanity from 1953 - 1991

From 1863 to 1953 Cambodia is ruled by France, like neighbours Laos and Vietnam. In 1941 Sihanouk (a Khmer (the main ethnicity in Cambodia)) becomes King but is still under France’s control. In 1953 Cambodia gains independence and King Sihanouk becomes King in more than just name. Under pressure to introduce democracy, Sihanouk abdicates the throne so he can run in the election, which he then wins becoming Prime Minister (with a healthy amount of election fraud and voter intimidation). In 1960, Sihanouk cements his position and becomes the permanent head of state. His rule is brutal; communist revolutionaries are sought out and executed, the farming peasants are neglected and suffer. In 1969, the US begins a secret bombing campaign within its war against Vietnam where it carpet bombs Cambodia in Operation Breakfast (followed by Operation Lunch, Snack, Dinner, Supper and Dessert) under Nixon’s ‘Madman theory’, aiming to show Vietnam he’s irrational and volatile and therefore should not be messed with. Sihanouk doesn’t do anything in response to this, choosing to remain quiet rather than anger the US. The country simply isn’t doing well, creating the perfect landscape for the Prime Minister Lon Nol to overthrow Sihanouk in a coup in 1970.

From 1970 to 1975 civil war ensues across Cambodia. Lon Nol sends the Cambodian army to fight the North Vietnamese who are hiding out in Cambodia. A communist guerrilla movement, which will become known as the Khmer Rouge (officially the Communist Party of Kampuchea), fights against Lon Nol and as does the North Vietnamese. So called Liberated Zones are under the Khmer Rouge’s control, and these expand until finally Phnom Penh (the capital city) falls in 1975 on April 16th. This day begins with relief. The population in the city are thankful that the years of civil war and the terror that came before that are over. This feeling is incredibly short-lived.

On April 16th 1975, referred to as Year 0, Phnom Penh and the other cities in Cambodia are forcefully evacuated. People are told they have to leave for their own safety as more US bombs will be dropped on the city. This is a lie. The reason for the evacuation is completely absurd. The Khmer Rouge is a communist group led by Saloth Sar, better known as Pol Pot, which holds an ideology rooted in Maoist communism. Under Marxist-Leninist communism, the one I’m familiar with from my Soviet Union studies, the focus is on the proletariats which are the industrial working class. Under Maoism, the focus is on the agricultural peasants as the countries it applies to have not yet had an industrial revolution. Pol Pot took this to the extreme, considering peasants to be the epitome of the world and viewing agriculture as the pathway to Cambodia’s success. The Khmer Rouge’s plan was to make Cambodia self-sufficient in food production to remove any reliance on neighbouring countries, eventually allowing it to export food for money and elevate it to international success. I can see the logic in this plan. Where any logic stops is on how this would be achieved. Pol Pot’s grand scheme was to force everyone to become farmers and collectivise the farms. There are some obvious flaws here, not going into details but people from the city had no experience as farmers and collectivised farms failed miserably in the Soviet Union (see my post on Gori for more on that). In addition to these issues, the overall conditions under the regime destroyed any chance of success. People were stripped of everything - physical items, communities (families were separated), decisions over their lives (the state chose who you would marry, often pairing old men with young girls), sense of self (it became illegal to say “I”, being replaced with “we”), human decency (the mass graves at so called Killing Fields speak for themselves). People were forced to work 19 hour days, digging irrigation channels or planting rice, on one or two bowls of rice water. People starved to death. People, including children, were tortured and killed for foraging for extra food. Unsurprisingly, these conditions did not deliver the tripling of rice yields Pol Pot wanted. Just as in the Soviet Union, the guards on the ground didn’t want to admit failure so inflated the figures, meaning more rice was taken from each community for export leaving even less for the people. This cycled into famines and even lower yields. If this everyday life isn’t nightmarish enough, Pol Pot was paranoid and was purging the country ferociously. The main targets were a group known as the “New people”, referring to city-dwellers and educated people. This included anyone who wore glasses, could read or had soft hands. Monks, nuns and minority ethnicities were also targeted. These people were gathered up in places called prisons but I think torture death chambers is a better descriptor. We visited the most famous of these in Phnom Penh, S-21, now a museum. Here the level of atrocities a human can commit to another human exceeded my understanding of the world. I can not comprehend the acts committed under the Khmer Rouge, both in their horror and their reasoning. Men, women and children were taken to these prisons and confessions were tortured out of them. They were then taken to Killing Fields where they were executed and thrown into mass graves. In the one prison we visited, 12,000 - 20,000 people were tortured there. There are 12 known survivors. It is unbelievable. I won’t go into the forms of torture used, but I will say that bullets were not used for the executions as they were too expensive and guns too loud. Instead, the people would be beaten to death using any tools available. This is not simply a genocide of lives, it is a genocide of entire human nature extending to those killed and those killing. The reason for the deaths and the torture? I can’t tell you because there really seems to be no explanation. I suppose these people killed because they could possibly threaten the regime. But could so many children, women and just normal people really pose a threat? The confessions forced out of them were often to do with the CIA, or spies from the Soviet Union or China, completely random things. Some of the slogans of the Khmer Rouge may help to explain the lack of reasoning:

“To keep you is no gain; to kill you is no loss”
”It is better to kill an innocent by mistake than spare an enemy by mistake”
”To dig up the grass, one must remove even the roots” (referring to killing an entire family if one member is seen as bad).

Perhaps the uneducated, brainwashed nature of the guards offers an explanation. They were often young peasant boys taken from their villages. On one wall in the prison a guard had been asked to write numbers for the keys to different cells. Clearly unable to write numbers, he scratched lines into the wall until someone who was able to write took over. This was the level of education of the majority of people wielding power.

Whilst this was all under Pol Pot’s control, he was not the face of the Khmer Rouge. Most people did not even know his name. The head of state at this point is, surprisingly, Sihanouk. Yes you’re remembering correctly, he was the King turn Prime Minister turn head of state who fought against the communist groups. Once he was overthrown he declared his allegiance with the Khmer Rouge in a one-sided manner, but the Khmer Rouge saw the benefit of his fame and relative popularity and went along with it. When the Khmer Rouge took power he was made to be the face but basically placed under house arrest in the Royal Palace with no control. In 1976, even Sihanouk is appalled by what’s happening under the regime and he resigns, escaping the country. Begrudgingly, Pol Pot becomes Prime Minister. By 1977 the country was deteriorating and it was evident that Pol Pot’s plan was an absolute failure. To distract from this, or to provide a scapegoat for the failure, Pol Pot orders an attack on the Vietnamese border. In 1978 Vietnamese forces invade Cambodia and by 1979 they have taken over the capital and the country. Slowly the insanity of the Khmer Rouge regime is unpicked and elements of normal life are re-established.

As I mentioned at the start of this post, the overall history of the 20th century in Cambodia is just crazy, and it doesn’t end with the Khmer Rouge being chased out of Cambodia by the Vietnamese. In 1981 there is an election and the pro-Vietnamese party wins. However, the international community (including the UK, the US, France and Germany) refuses to recognise this new government as they are viewed as invaders, preferring to recognise the Khmer Rouge as the rightful leaders of Cambodia. The Khmer Rouge retains its seat at the United Nations. During the regime Cambodia was isolated as much as possible; there were no telephones or TV or open borders. Perhaps it’s plausible that the international community didn’t know what was happening, although the isolation itself would be an indicator of something sour. After the regime fell I do not think it’s possible that the international community was not then aware of what happened, especially with Sihanouk escaping and letting people know. So why on earth the world backed the Khmer Rouge as the legitimate leaders I have no clue. Like I said, just crazy. In 1989 Vietnamese troops withdraw and Hun Sen is Prime Minister. One guy who just won’t go away returns for a final time, and in 1991 Sihanouk is once again made head of state, and then King when the monarchy is restored in 1993. We’ll leave the history there.

The Khmer Rouge is the worst regime I have ever come across. In the 3 years, 8 months and 20 days of their control, 1/4 of the Cambodian population died. It was ideologically senseless. Pol Pot lived a happy and comfortable life, living the last two years under house arrest before dying in his home (a heart attack, but perhaps not naturally occurring with some believing he may have taken his own life or was poisoned). In 2007, a UN-backed tribunal finally begins against the remaining Khmer Rouge high ranking officials, seeking justice for the genocide. Most of them are already dead or too unwell to face trial at this point. Only three of them are ever convicted. To me, it does not seem like justice was served. The fact this regime is bookended by an authoritarian regime, secret US bombing, a civil war, and an invasion makes the whole period unbelievably depressing but also interesting. The Khmer Rouge seem to overshadow the atrocities under Sihanouk’s first regime, allowing him to return over and over again. There is still a town called Sihanoukville and his popularity never seemed to dip too low. If you want to learn more about this history I would really recommend the four podcast episodes on Pol Pot by Real Dictators, and also the film ‘First they killed my Father’.

Entering Cambodia I was still learning about this history. But if I wasn’t listening to podcasts and reading about it, it would not have been on my mind at all. There is nothing to bring this very recent, very traumatic history to your attention. I saw no memorials. There was no talk of it with my interactions with local people, nor with other travellers. The country seemed to have chosen a sweep it under the carpet and forget about it approach. I can’t blame them. But knowing that every person you see has a connection to the history is shattering. The collective trauma of the nation seems unspoken about. Like daring to admit its existence would be a huge sin. I asked our tuktuk driver on the way to the Killing Fields if he had ever visited himself. He said maybe with school, but he couldn’t remember the history. I haven’t met anyone who wanted to talk about it openly, and never felt comfortable pushing the topic. I don’t understand the attitudes towards the past in Cambodia, we haven’t spent long enough here nor in the right places to even attempt to. I think only speaking english would also be a barrier. I wish I could find out more about how the Khmer Rouge affected people and continues to affect them, and about their attitudes on the wild character of Sihanouk. On a base level, visiting the Killing Fields and the S-21 Prison suffices. They both have excellent audio guides and are very respectfully and carefully curated. I am sad that other travellers did not always seem aware of the history, but perhaps it’s because Phnom Penh is often the last stop on people’s Cambodia trip and they will only learn about it here. Or because the demographic is more gap yearers in search of beers and beaches than history, unlike the Balkans which is the last comparable place I have been to in terms of history. Cambodia holds the most painful and horrific history I have come across, never before have I seen a country-wide experiment with civilisation like under the Khmer Rouge. I hope its closed rather than open attitude towards the past does not cause issue in the future, but I worry it might.