When in Nam

Chickens.

Crazy Nah Trang surprisingly did not end with a bang as we all made a collective decision to gain something more than a wounded liver and sore dancing feet. The thing is, as a backpacker you get sucked into the vibe and ironically the 'routine' that you develop as a means of socializing and getting involved. Of course you have moments where people need their space and curl up in a corner to read a book, blog or be absorbed by the temptation of facebook and emails. But on our last day, proactivity reigned. The sound of our alarm caused a harmony of groans and grunts and slowly, slowly everyone rolled out of bed for breakfast.. a meal that hadn't occured before 12pm for a while. After breakfast motorbikes were easy to sort out, 2 licenses required (the legitimacy of which didn't phase them), 4 helmets, and we were off to go. After a wobbly start, realizing the speedometre wasn't working and checking our fuel gage, we realized petrol was an essential. Looking out for huge 'petronas', 'BP's' or 'Shell' signs wasn't the way to do it, so we stopped at a little plastic bottle with a plastic cup placed over the cap, that apparantley symbolized a petrol station. The tanks were filled up and we continued our ride through the crazy vietnamese traffic, the cows, and the people casually strolling across the busy street. 

Boat cruise in Nah Trang

 we arrived in Vietnam the one significant noise that awoke the senses was the constant beeping of every vehicle on the road, whether there was a reason to beep was insignificant. But riding a motorbike
to the waterfalls suddenly lit a spark. The signaling on the bikes don't work, the mirrors are half cracked and no one follows road rules, so beeping is literally the only way of warning someone that you're a foot behind them. We rode past beautiful scenery, the beach, old houses, greenery, fishing villages and finally stopped to show someone our little note in Vietnamese that read 'please show us the way to the waterfall'. Somehow we found it, transitioning from a tarmac road to a bumpy, dusty sidepath that killed our wheels, we saw a group of familiar faces that had just parked their bikes for 20,000 dong (because ­everything in Vietnam has a price). 'Jack be nimble Jack be quick' came to mind as we all jumped over the rocks spiderman style, with our two vietnamese 'guides' leading the way.. (well mostly lagging behind to help me balance with a bottle of water in one hand and our Mary Poppins bag in the other). We arrived at the scene of tranquility, sitting on top of rocks, tanning in bikini's with a few beers and cigs we soaked up the afternoon sun. Adrenaline rushes were a requisit as we jumped from the huge rocks into the clear water below, being rushed into the waterfall and feeling the pounding massage of it all over our backs. We floated along with the current under the caves to sit in silence for a meditation as our sensations experienced the thrill of the cold water. 

Waterfalls in Nah Trang

I rode the bike on the way back, taking a wrong turn of course and getting a piece of roadside plastic stuck in my foot but we managed our way back in one piece (much to the surprise of all of us). We arrived to see everyone in a scramble with their bags all over the place. 'Have you collected the laundry?!', 'Are you sure you have the bus ticket?' 'Where are our passports!?' 'Oreos :)?'. We got onto the sleeping bus and after a valium or two we all lay in peaceful slumber until the movement of the engine stopped 11 hours later, and we were further North, in Hoi An. 
Hoi An's beautiful, one of my favourite cities so far. It's divided into the new and old quarter - after checking in to our hostel and doing the usual meet and greet with our dormies, we rented bicycles and explored the old Hoi An. Through busy markets piled high with colourful bowls, tropical fruits, meat of all kinds, eggs, huge coconuts, hippie clothes, along the river, across the bridge, through the graveyard with it's spirit houses and interesting murals and back through the village to go home. The ecstacy of it all took a turn later that night when we had a usual panic attack of missing something, and realized to our dissapointment that my camera with all our holiday snaps had been stolen. 
The next 2 days were a mission to say the least. We merged into spy kid mode, talking to everyone we knew, going back to the notorious 'Why Not Bar' in Hoi An, watching hours of CCTV footage of drunks swaying all over the bar, trying to chat up him or her, and slowly losing the ability to dance in a consistent rythm. And then we get to 1:02am and watch a 24ish year old boy ask the manager for the camera, look through the photo's and with a smug smile, claim it as his own and walk away. The manager got on the case and sent us out with his 'guys' on motorbikes to track down the apparant 'German' backpacker. We had the leads and everyone knew what he looked like so that night all senses were awake. A huge dinner with about 20 of us that evening lifted the weight of losing a material possession a bit, and allowed everyone to just enjoy each others company. That night we didn't track him down but hours into making friends with a few vietnamese locals, we were swerving through the empty stillness of the night on our bicycles, watching the street lights change colour and contort in unison. 

The next day the mission continued. Walking into the police station, all eyes were on us -- at that point when you're confronted with higher authority you lose all ego as the power is shifted to whoever you need the help from. We brought the gangster looking police officer to the bar, to watch the footage, to get a stamp, to get our money back from our travel insurance. Boring boring boring. J and I sat in the police office looking at each other from across the table and trying not to laugh, of course we'd ended up there within the first 2 weeks of being in a foreign country. At least we weren't there for the wrong reasons. It wasn't until the day was over and we'd got what we needed, that we realized the manager of the bar was one of the biggest names in the Vietnamese mafia. So bringing police to his bar, that were obviously in on whatever games he had going on, didn't gain us any free drinks that night. 
Our last day was spent letting go of the cortisol that had built up too much for a holiday, and we lay by the pool at our hostel, walked along the beautiful beach and said goodbye to part of our group. It's funny how fast you can bond to people; whether it happens on nights/ days out or when you're travelling. But after a few days, when you're all practically living together, saying goodbye and not knowing when you'll next see them does sting a little. Our habit of clinging to permanence has never been so realized. As we're leaving we see one friend running  like a headless chicken over his lost ipod, with his original recordings and no back-up. What a funny coincidence, our camera, Jd's ipod, K's IPad, C and G's camera, R's wallet and passport. It just never ends. I guess it's a lesson about the value of material things.. and being more aware. It wasn't about losing the camera it was the sentimental value of the photo's, but if we could capture them through a contact lense or without needing a handheld device, this whole responsibility thing would prove a lot more simple. 

Hue - the imperial citadel

Our alarm went off at 9:30am after a big night out, and everyone could be seen groggily walking out of their rooms to catch the amazing free breakfast buffet that closed at 10. After missing it a few mornings in a row, sleep wasn't going to take priority. We packed our clothes, bought snacks and water, and crashed out on the 4 hour bus ride to Hue, our next destination. We arrived to see our smiling crew, the crazy welsh lot, Nat, Jordan, our Aussie girls, our English boys and so many more. It oddly feels like you're at home when you're around so much familiarity. Hue backpackers greeted us well, and J had some bonding time with his mate that worked there and had hooked us up with a room.

The one thing you don't want to deal with, besides theft or loss, is illness. And whether it was tap water, dodgy meat or unclean veg, the tummy bug began and knocked us out like dominoes. I was first, so had a quiet night in (pain). Hearing Big Ben being carried up the stairs 40 minutes after they'd left to go out and a few chairs and tables crashing on the balcony, I snuggled up under a duvet, drained but content that I'd have the clearest head in the morning. 

The next day was both painful, adventurous and upsetting. An odd combination but all justifiable. Ladies, never get a bikini wax in Vietnam for a 'cheap pri', 3 words: blue, plastic, pain. I'll spare you the details, but for an hour I had my eyes closed and fists clenched with a ruthless, unhappy vietnamese woman standing infront of me, ah the lengths you go to for beauty. I was whisked off on a motorbike by J to join our new local buddies for a few beers. It's funny how when you drink, the part of your brain responsible for language is more activated, so drunk vietnamese dudes that know a bit of english can get quite chatty. We listened to their harrowing stories about poverty, their families, what they thought of foreigners and vietnamese girls. The list was endless, and we came away with a few important words: 'Chuc mung nam moi'/ Happy new year - appropriate as everything in the country's slowly closing down and prices are slowly rising as 'Tet' approaches. They don't like to call it Chinese new year because of the beef they have with them over the colonization that took place in the past. We jumped on the back of their motorbikes and were taken to their local hang-out. Luckily I got the driver that wasn't drinking, so my ride took a bit longer, but crossing the bridge as the sun set was so worth the experience. So we get dropped home after a day that we'd all been craving, and then comes the uncomfortable question, 'can you give us money'. Money ruins people. We were all so dissapointed, the first Vietnamese locals we'd met that we genuinley felt wanted to just spend the day with us, expected us to pay them. 'I've lost faith in Humanity' B. muttered as we gave them $5 each and walked back to the Hostel with a different demeanour than when we'd arrived 5 minutes before. We showered up and walked outside to the strumming of a ukelele that provoked conversation with our new lovely Italian stallion Roberto. We invited our new friends a long with our huge group for another big Indian Splash out. Our one treat ($6 per person, ha.) That evening my bestie and I rode around the imperial citadel by night on the back of another motorbike, discussing 'love' with our new Italian - they know how to romanticise it all. And then teenagedome kicked in and the group migrated to 'Brown Eyes', the local gay club (that the boys of course didn't realize until a day later, their eyes opening wider with the realization of why all the little vietnamese boys were clinging to them all night). 

Bus party

Despite a pounding head and a still-sore tummy, we managed to fit in a bit of culture the next day, while running to the bathroom and glugging down bottles of water with diluted ORT (oral rehydration tablets) that tasted vile. The imperial citadel of Hue was impressive -- the Vietnamese symbols for 'money' and 'luck' scattered the place while the moat surrounded the ancient palace. Inside was a model of what the grounds used to look like, and in   they must have been grand and the golden throne that the king used to sit on was preserved in all it's glory. 
We wondered around and after a few fumes we crossed our legs beside the still lake and meditated with the sounds of buzzing insects, birds and the wind. The chants stretched out across the water and our minds floated

through the ripples that the frangipani flowers made as they scattered around the lake. Leaving the citadel we were in a daze, until the realization that 'THE green bag' that had all of our money and passports in it, was gone. We frantically ran around the place, adrenaline pumping and our 'fight or flight' senses kicking in full force. Luckily it had been turned in untouched to the guard house and our breathing slowly returned to normal. We made our way back to the hostel for a boogie before the bus ride to Hanoi. Club tunes were pumping, Ben, and only Ben, was downing his rum and we spun around the room in hippie pants and scarves, attracting the other backpackers as they walked passed with a smile. 

Arriving in Hanoi

The bus arrived and we all jumped in, claiming the back half for ourselves. We had disco lights, vietnamese tunes, valium and oreos so we were set. It was like a huge, silly, slumber party and after our 3 hour break and a couple of flower fumes, we crashed out and awoke in Hanoi. I remember feeling the cold on my back, and groggily trying to turn off the AC, until I realized when we stopped, that it was ridiculously cold, and noone had warm clothes with them. We jumped into a taxi, getting ripped off completely and arrived at Hanoi Backpackers Hostel, holding onto each other for body heat. Jordan got into his panda suit onesie, I put on every layer of clothing and we ordered tea and coffee, none of us had come to SE Asia for the cold so we weren't impressed, as could be observed by our hunched postures and frowns. We walk into the hostel and see everyone we've met since Ho Chi Minh, the frowns dissapeared. 

It was Tet so the city was bustling with life before the dramatic 5 day silence following it prevailed. We walked through the old quarter, sliding through the motorbikes, the chickens being plucked savagely and pho riddled with snails being thrust into your face left, right and centre. In Hanoi the curfew's 12pm, and when I say curfew, the police literally turn up everywhere on cue to shut down resteraunts, shops, clubs, the lot. But luckily for Tet, things stayed open slightly later. The party kicked off at our hostel at about 6pm and everything went uphill (or downhill for some) from there. We went outside for a breather and bumped into yet another vietnamese local taking hits from a tobacco bong. I was lured into trying it and would not reccomend it to anyone. Cold sweats and a spinning head with a security guard laughing his ass off was what went down for about 5 minutes. And then was the firework rush. Everyone, as though pulled by a huge magnet, started migrating towards the expansive lake that was about 10 minutes away from us. It was like being at a concert, pushing and shoving and all gripping onto each others hands, wallets and phones. We had half our group but had lost the rest, so in a spin I jumped on J's shoulders and looked across at the thousands of faces spamming the area. I was wearing a red hoodie and waving my hands around for about a minute until I spotted the beaming faces of our remainders. We ran to join them and as everyone embraced as the fireworks kicked off at 12pm sharp. It was new year all over again and synchronicity was taking place everywhere. When the rush had calmed down the movement of people began again, in the opposite direction. And after realizing that a chain of us didn't work, we seperated, threading through the crowd swiftly and losing each other in no time. I jumped around asking people for directions and resorted to sitting at a plastic chair noodle bar to wait for familiar faces, that appeared within minutes.

The next 15 minutes of that evening isn't something I'd wish to repeat again, as it's getting pretty tiring, it seems we've been granted a losing streak. 'Where's the camera?' Blank faces everywhere and despair sunk in that we were indeed repeating history. The pain on my face got me brownie points and the security guard rumaged through every draw in reception, pulling out a black camera case with a smile. The glory dancing at 'Hair of the Dog', a nearby club, was probably one of the happiest dances of the holiday. On returning to the hostel I snapped a shot of the hostel workers Tet meal, as they offered us rice wine shots and chicken heads, that J swallowed in one - eugh. It was comforting to think that if anything's gone wrong so far this year, we could always start again?

Not many people made the 10am curfew for breakfast unsurprisingly but we all spent the next day recovering infront of 'The Inbetweeners' with fumes and munch. The city was a ghost town so the extortionate prices on the hostel menu got the better of us. But the burgers, chilli, cheesy fries and lots of other heart attack material went down well. 

Bobster

Hanoi was fun, there wasn't too much to discover but we did have a spot of luxury when we were taken out to lunch at the Hilton by family friends. Rocking up showered and clean was the best we could do, but we still felt so out of place. Soft shelled crab, tiger prawns and burgers were inhaled and we waddled back to our hostel satiated. Night times were spent dramatically running around the streets searching for lost ones, laughing our hearts out in showers and trying to quietley climb down fire-escapes and up ladders to our top bunk without waking up everyone in our dorm (it didn't prove to be succesful, especially being in the awkward position of forgetting your key inside the room at 3am and having to face the tired, grumpy face of a stranger that's letting you in.) 

Our crew's moved on to Halong Bay, on the East coast of Vietnam. I was expecting a hot sunny beach but it's overcast, cool and mountanous, not a bad thing but we're all craving a bit of vitamin D. Everyone's in a different zone at the moment, J's just realized his whole money bag's gone, our passports lie at reception in Hanoi, everyone has at least one missing piece of clothing, and I am shoe-less. Waiting for the boat today we pranced around with our arms up chanting like noobs in an attempt to rid ourselves of our losing luck. 

Hopefully Halong holds good things and good weather (touch wood).

Recipe of the day: Soft shelled crab 

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/fried-soft-shell-crab/