I didn’t plan on going to Malaysia. I thought I’d end my trip in Thailand. But looking at the map it made sense to continue my overland journey to Malaysia, reaching the end of the Eurasian land mass. I had heard little about it from other travellers, but enough to pique my interest. I found the rice farming workaway and was sold - I’d skip the south of Thailand and the crowds that it entailed, trading it in for the less travelled Malaysia. What made Malaysia so interesting to visit was its population; made up of Malays, Indian Malays and Chinese Malays. All Malaysian, all with very different cultures, religions and cuisines. Malay Malaysians are muslim and have their own cuisine, similar to Indonesian I was to find out. Indian Malays are mostly Hindu and most originally come from the south of India, speaking Tamil. Chinese Malays are buddhist or atheist. I really enjoyed seeing how these different ethnicities coexisted, and getting to eat excellent indian, chinese and malay food was also a big bonus.
I’ve spoken about my time on the rice farm in a separate post, but this was my first impression of the country. Wonderful people, wonderful culture, wonderful food. It continued much in this fashion. I travelled by bus and ferry to Penang, staying in the small city of Georgetown (named after King George when Britain took control of it). It’s an arty, foodie hub and it was quite excellent. I’d compare its vibe to that of Bristol, with street art to rival Banksy, but the buildings and culture are superior. Down by the sea there are Chinese jetties, ornate in their curls of clan specific architecture. The Chinese district features British colonial buildings decorated in chinese letterings, advertising the goods sold there. Little India was filled with smells of curry and paan, and shops selling jewellery and saris. Further out the buildings got less beautiful but there were still some cool offerings here. The best thrift shop I’ve ever been into for example. Or a contemporary marketplace filled with cafes and art stalls, or on the Saturday I visited filled with strange pets for sale. I spent my time in Georgetown wandering around the streets, taking way too many photos of building fronts. I stumbled across a free Chinese opera so attended this and found it very strange and of a low quality, maybe why it was free! My main activity was eating. Here’s all I managed to squeeze into my belly whilst I was there:
Suitably full I caught the bus to Kuala Lumpur, the capital, for my last stop in Malaysia. Georgetown is in a close race for my favourite city in Southeast Asia, with Luang Prabang. It wasn’t without its flaws though. For the first time in Southeast Asia I experienced catcalling, and to a surprisingly high degree.
I had the pleasure of seeing Ethan in KL, a guy I’d met in Armenia months before who is currently studying at Oxford (small world!). He was in KL for a summer internship and offered the sofa bed in his hotel/apartment to me, which I gladly accepted. I took some chill time here, using the gym and the rooftop infinity pool, appreciating the time to catch my breath before a busy few days ahead. I continued my food delights, eating lots of Malaysian food like assam laksa and curry laksa (a really good noodle soup, the assam being acidic and fishy, the curry being creamy and like a Thai Khao Soi); nasi lemak (not as good as the one I made at the farm); Chinese pork and noodle street food dishes; and nasi kandar. A big part of Malaysian cuisine are these nasi dishes. Nasi simply means rice. In restaurants there will be a buffet of different curries, vegetable sides, chicken, eggs and other stuff. You get the rice and choose what you want on top. I found them quite stressful to visit, never really sure of how it worked, but it would always be cheap and fairly delicious, nothing too crazy though. I visited the national museum and rated it highly. I learnt about the history of Malaysia, the Portuguese then Dutch then British rule. The most interesting part for me was understanding how Islam was introduced to the country, through arab traders. These traders were seen as rich and higher class, so the local people associated their religion, Islam, with this. This led to it being adopted. KL was an insane city, very modern but not huge. Unsurprisingly, not my favourite place (still not a fan of big cities).
I’m very glad I stopped by Malaysia. Its mix of ethnicities make it the most interesting country I’ve been to in Southeast Asia. The food is incredible. I could happily alternate between Malay, Indian and Chinese cuisine for my whole life. I only scratched the surface of the country and look forward to going back one day to see more of it.In the final year of my biology degree we had to do 2 projects as well as our dissertations, and I did one of these on sustainable rice paddy farming in Southeast Asia. Because of this I had always planned to try and work on a rice paddy once I got to that part of the world. I wanted to see how paddy farming actually worked, beyond the stuff I’d read about in scientific articles. I wanted to understand the life of a paddy farmer and the reason they farm in a certain way. I wanted the context beyond the narrow and distilled down viewpoint of academia. I found the perfect workaway on a sustainable rice farm in Malaysia and luckily the farm accepted me even though I could only spend one week there. But wow was it an impressionable week. The life and community on the farm was blissful. The rice farming aspect was eye-opening. Let me tell you about both.
The farm was located deep in the jungle, down a narrow track that crossed over little bridges to reach its destination. There was a big structure near the entrance which was an open sided common room, with a big communal table and a little kitchen attached. There were detached wooden bungalows along a pond, each with its own bathroom (cold showers and toilets to be flushed with a bucket of course). There was a secret path through disused paddy fields down to the river where I would go to sit in the morning and to wash off the mud from the paddy in the afternoon. There was a vegetable garden and opposite this an open sided prayer room turned yoga shala. A little further along the track were the 3 in use paddy fields. The owners of the farm are Captain and Kakak, a truly lovely couple who treat all of the volunteers like family. Kakak would cook most of our meals, conjuring up the most wonderful malay feasts of curries, fried chicken and fish, rice and veggies. For breakfast they would often deliver us goodies from the local stalls, my favourite being roti canai which was thin bread/pancakes served with a delectably sweet tomatoey dahl. I loved the traditional nasi lemak (coconut rice, chilli and garlic sauce with anchovies, fried chicken and peanuts) we had one morning, and Kakak agreed to teach us how to make it the following evening which was great fun. There were several other volunteers who were all wonderful. Together we made jam from roselles found in the garden; Noa and Yannic made a comforting pasta meal one night; and Ali made a banana cake every time someone left. We would all do yoga together each morning, and sometimes again in the afternoon. Each evening would end with several rounds of card games. I could’ve spent months there, it felt like the outside world didn’t exist. There wasn’t much volunteer work at the time, just weeding the paddies on some days and the odd other job, so we had a lot of downtime. I spent this writing, reading and revising my law notes in preparation of my return to the real world. I had a lot of less fun life admin to do too, with all of the pre-job stuff coming through and securing a house in London.
Life was slow and intentional and wonderful. I felt a calm motivation there, fostered by interesting discussions on food security and climate change with Captain and the other volunteers and just the general environment. It was especially interesting to speak to Captain about why he’d chosen to start the farm and use sustainable methods. He told me he had learnt everything from the Quaran, an answer that did cause my eyebrows to raise. His whole outlook on farming was built around his religion it seemed, and it led to a very different approach than I’ve come across in the west. For example, when I asked what he did when there were pests eating the crop he replied “let them eat it, they are as entitled to it as I am, they are part of nature”. As lovely as the sentiment is I’m not sure how helpful it will be in tackling food security. The answers given in these discussions were sometimes strange to me, but always interesting. There would be visitors to the farm which would add to these conversations: a Doctor who had come to look at the stingless bees because he was trialing their honey to help treat neurological disorders, a group from a muslim charity who wanted to start a sustainable rice paddy to help a poor community. Captain gave a talk to this charity group about the farm’s sustainability practices and I even helped out in this, explaining how soil fertility and the cation exchange capacity of the soil interact. Never in a million years did I think I’d be giving a talk on biology during my travels! Thankfully I’d remembered more than I thought from my biology degree…
On our day off a local family invited us all over for tea and to pick fruit in their garden. They took us to the local market where we tried all sorts of delicious food and bought oat milk for our coffees back on the farm. We visited a big reservoir and they took us out on their boats to watch the sunset. It was such a wonderful and unexpected day. The people in Malaysia, and especially around the farm, are some of the most kind and friendly people I’ve ever met.
My work in the paddy: weeding
Before I go into the details of rice farming I’ll tell you about the work I did on the farm, so you can skip the rest if you’re less interested in the science. The farm only has 3 in use rice paddies at the moment, and all 3 had been planted several weeks ago. This means they’re in the weeding phase. Every 5 days we would weed each paddy in one direction, horizontally or vertically. What this entails is us wading barefoot into the flooded paddy with a big wooden brush-like device, with metal nails acting as the brush hairs. The brush is pushed and pulled in between the lines of rice plants (tillers) and it rakes up the weeds that are growing there. As we walk behind the brush we use our toes to pull out any weeds that are too close to the tillers to get with the brush. It’s fairly physical work but quite meditative and I found it very enjoyable.
Captain told us there were 5 reasons for weeding:
The science
The importance of rice
Rice is arguably the most important crop in the world. It provides the majority of calories to over half of the world’s population. Overall, it accounts for over 21% of all human caloric requirements. It is especially important in Asia, making up 75% of the calorific intake in the continent. One fifth of the world’s population rely on its cultivation for income. So yeah, it’s pretty important! It also has a huge impact on the environment. It uses 35% of the world’s irrigated water. It contributes 12% of global methane emissions, and 1.5% of total greenhouse gas emissions which is crazy! The way that rice is farmed is incredibly important in tackling both climate change and food security.
The rice crop cycle
There are two species of rice crop in the world: African rice (Oryza glaberrima) and Asian rice (Oryza sativa). Asian rice is by far the more widely grown and eaten, and the species I’m familiar with. It has four varieties and all the rice you’ve ever eaten is likely one of these. Within the varieties there are lots of different strains and these all take different lengths of time to grow and are suited to different environments.
For any of the varieties the cycle is the same:
System of Rice Intensification
The type of sustainable farming used on the farm is called System of rice intensification (SRI). It’s a method of rice cultivation that can be used in smallholder farms to improve yields, reduce environmental impact and have a positive effect on the local community. It’s truly a win-win scenario. It has four main aspects:
The benefits of SRI:
The farm is the first and only SRI farm in Malaysia but Captain has helped set up several other projects in neighbouring countries. It’s undoubtedly the way forward for smallholder rice farming in Southeast Asia.
I valued my time on the farm hugely. It was amazing to see the science I’d researched in practice. It was eye-opening to understand the wider context of rice farming in communities and understand all of the nuances that academia misses. It was also so wonderful to feel like part of a family after being on the road for so long.
After the two day slow boat into Laos, I just couldn’t get enough of multi-day travel so decided to do my trip from Vientiane, Laos to my workaway in Malaysia in one go. I’m joking of course, but having already spent a week in Bangkok and being tight on time it made sense to do it this way. To make sure I capture the full picture of travel up until the last moments of my trip, I’m going to tell you about this mammoth journey.
On the 13th of June I had a slow morning collecting my clean laundry, taking a long shower and packing up my stuff. I wandered into Vientiane centre to spend the last of my Laos kip on snacks, managing to get two bags of homemade banana chips from a lady, a free mango from another, a bag of pork scratchings and two fried bananas all for 70p. At 14:45 I walked over to the bus station, grateful that it was cloudy so I wasn’t completely dripping with sweat. I got a bus to Nong Khai in Thailand, which took 1 hour, but didn’t reboard it after going through the border. Instead I walked to the train station, through a strange market along the tracks, and had one last pad thai sat in a stall across the road. I did some yoga in a quiet corner of the train station, preparing my body for the arduous journey ahead. I was too tight to splash out on the $30 sleeper train to Bangkok (one with beds) and instead had gone for the $5 third class tickets on the standard train. I boarded my train at 18:30 and settled my bum down on the hard bench, my humble abode for the next 12 hours. A large Russian man squeezed down next to me, and a mother and daughter duo squeezed into the bench opposite us, all of our knees rammed together. There was no aircon or working fan on the train, so we had the window down to contend with the heat. Once the sunset the light in the train attracted all sorts of insects to fly in through the window, wacking into me and scuttling on the floor. I used my technique for sleeping in less than optimal conditions with some success, managing to drift in and out of sleep for the duration of the night, albeit very uncomfortably and sweatily. The train arrived into Don Mueang station, Bangkok a bit before 6am. There was some confusion over if this was the correct stop or not and the delay caused by this and by me being half asleep still meant when I tried to get off the train it had already started moving again. The guards prevented me from jumping out anyway, a wise move since once the train had been made to stop and I did jump out, my bag got wedged in the doorway and took some seconds to dislodge. From this station I spent the last of my Thai baht on a ticket to the main station in Bangkok - Bang Sue station. This train only took about 30 minutes and was like the tube in London. After walking the length of Bang Sue I found the ticket counter and bought my ticket for the next train, a 19 hour sleeper train to Padang Besar, Malaysia. I had 8 hours before this train. My walk around the station had made it clear I wouldn’t be staying there for the whole day; it was cavernous and empty, devoid of life and wifi. I went in search of a cafe with some wifi to relax and work in. This ended up being a lot more difficult than anticipated. I was in a weird part of Bangkok and despite there still being quite a few nice looking cafes, none of them had wifi. It was hard work walking around too, as I had all of my stuff with me and it was hot. I found one cafe that had wifi, only to discover you couldn’t pay with card so it was back on the road (I was all out of Thai cash and with a $5 withdrawal fee would not be taking more out). Eventually I found a Cafe Amazon (a chain in Thailand) and settled in there. It was nice to try out the chain I’d seen so often and found the coffee to taste a bit like Costa’s. When I got hungry I returned to the road in search of breakfast, again struggling to find somewhere that accepted card meaning I ended up in a Starbucks. Not my proudest travelling moment, but the truly delicious almond croissant made me forget my pride. For a safe bet for lunch I went to the food court in Lotus (a big supermarket), selecting an interesting looking curry from the buffet. When I went to pay by tapping my card on the scanner I was a bit annoyed to find out you actually had to pay with a special Lotus card. I went to get this only to find it could only be topped up with cash. I returned to the lady to apologise to her for already plating my meal, explaining I couldn’t pay. She gave me the plate anyway with a smile, so kind! I enjoyed this meal and made my way back to the station where I bought a coffee and boarded my train. This one was much nicer than the last. I settled into my comfy seat and did some writing, taking in the beautiful scenery before it got dark. I watched some netflix and ate my snacks (pumpkin topped with peanuts and sesame seeds) before asking the carriage officer to change my seat into a bed whilst I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I settled into bed, aware of how cold the air conditioning had made the carriage. I slept fairly well but was a tad cold. I woke up and pulled back the curtain to reveal a jaw-dropping view. I almost thought I was still asleep. Beautiful sun, banana trees and dramatic karsts. I blinked my eyes open and went to the toilet, then washed my face and got ready. The man put my bed away and I curled up on the seat and ate my banana chips, drank my water and looked out of the window, listening to a murder podcast. The train was delayed and I watched some netflix, thinking, but not worrying, if I’d make my next train. We arrived at last at 10:30am and I crossed into Malaysia, my 30th country of the trip, with no hassle. There’s an hour time difference so it magically became 11:30am. The station was small but confusing, eventually I got my ticket and waited at the platform. Before this a British woman made a big spectacle as she had forgotten her phone on the train and was wailing like a distressed cat. The train arrived at 12:35pm and it was again like the tube in London. On this short journey a Canadian Malaysian lady did not stop chatting to me about all sorts, including what’s wrong with the institution of the church and about spirituality. A British guy started doing acrobatics on the railings. I was tired and all of the bizarreness passed over me. I made it to my destination of Alor Setar at 13:20 and got a taxi to the bus station, asking to stop at an ATM on the way. None of the ATMs worked for me annoyingly, but there was one at the bus station so I wasn’t too worried. Somehow the 5 minute journey took us 40 because of insane traffic so I only had 5 minutes before my bus. And of course, the ATM didn’t work. I was a bit distressed as I couldn’t pay for the taxi and didn’t have time to go to another ATM before the bus left - it was the only one that day so I needed to get it. The taxi driver was so kind, he told me to get my bags and get the bus, not to worry about paying him. I exclaimed my gratefulness as I ran to the bus, then having to beg the bus driver to let me on without cash. The driver eventually gave in and I flopped into the seat, feeling relieved to have made it. We stopped at a gas station with an ATM and I was finally able to withdraw money. I happily paid the driver and was thankful that my no-cash troubles of the last few days were over. The bus took around 2 hours to arrive into Sik, getting there at 16:00. I was mildly concerned I would then be stranded. I was meant to have bought a sim card at the bus station but clearly didn’t have time to do this, meaning I had no way of contacting my workaway host who was picking me up in Sik. There was no need to worry, as soon as I stepped off the bus I heard a shout of “Meg!” and was duly collected by Captain, his wife and another volunteer. The welcome was wonderfully warm. They ushered me into the car and declared we were going for lunch as I needed to eat, which I suppose I did. I immediately felt looked after, and in a way I hadn’t felt for such a long time. We drove 40 minutes to reach the rice farm I’d be volunteering on. And so after over 48 hours of travel I’d finally reached my destination. It had only taken 4 trains and 2 buses!
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 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.
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.
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 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.
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!
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.
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):
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”!
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.
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!
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!