Living in a dream (Part 2)

Eden

The Black moon party (run by the Thai Mafia) was taking place beside us, and the 5000 people that were expected, hadn't arrived by the witching hour. It was $20 to get in and the music, was pretty shit. We were sitting on the beach watching the dried palm leaves and dead branches turn into roaring orange flames, with the distant lightening storm over Koh Samui adding the odd flash. I'd been given a tip to head to Eden by a fellow traveller who'd escaped the full moon party in search of something a little different, so we spent that $20 on transport to and from the party, which involved a tuk tuk to the other beach and a 10 minute boat ride. Our tuk-tuk was full of drunk Poles that were leaving the Black Moon party in search of something cheaper, and after a slurred, excited conversation, J and I hopped on a boat in the dark of the night, to find solace. The boat pushed out into the blackness, and just for our amusement, the engine decided not to work. So we waited as the boatman lunged his anchor millimetres away from our heads, trying to hold on to some form of positivity as I let my head fall backwards and take in the glorious expanse of stars above us. 'If you see a shooting star tonight, everything's going to look up' is what I kept saying to myself. 5 minutes later, the engine was working (due to the help of his fellow boatmen) and not 1 but 3 shooting stars orbited through the night sky, I smiled to myself as the sound of the engine roared above all thoughts, tonight was going to be amazing. The boat arrived in a secret cove, and we started walking along the sand towards the giant rocks, the rickety bridge, jazzy-house-techno beats (played by the incredible resident DJ's), costumes, water, gum, magic balls and trippers. Police were banned from the beach so 'anything was possible' with a bit of moolah and a good attitude, the party went on till 12pm the following day, and everyone was still dancing like no one cared at 11am - with a quick break to watch the sunrise together. J and I lay on shark-rock looking at the clouds blow across the sky as it changed colour from black to yellowy blue. We spotted animals and objects in the clouds and another thought came to me. When I was younger I used to believe each animal you spotted was from the spirit of the animal that had died. So to my excited inner-child, I've now learnt how that can be explained, scientifically (because that's what gets credit now, right). When an animal dies it's recycled back into the earth as it's body deteriorates and it becomes part of the soil again, which in turn feeds the growth of new seeds, that turns into various plants; their moisture evaporates and rises, due to cohesion these evaporated particles all condense as they get denser with atmospheric pressure and they form clouds (excited squeel) which turns into rain, that waters the plants, that animals drink and the cycle continues.. As the temperature rose that morning and the energy wore off, we left our new French friends, with the gift of a pheasant feather in my hair, a drunk Aussie falling off the side of the boat and a grimy couple with their eyes rolling, still causing glares on the dance floor. That day was named zombie-day as it always is, we showed our faces spontaneously to buy food at the local market, spotting the other zombies from the night before and crashing out as soon as sunset wiped the light away. 

The morning after our all-nighter

We spent the next day exploring the island. The sea at night was deceiving,  as by day it was barely visible and took a good few hundred metres to reach (over the coral reef), so we went in search of a more accessible sea and hopefully an idyllic guest house to accompany it. Riding up and down the hilly terrain, looking at guest houses, checking out bars and dive shops, swimming in the ocean and seeing familiar faces, we returned that evening to Sea Love bungalows. The room slowly began to spin uncontrollably, with my eyes open and shut, until something (dinner) gave way, all over the plants next to our balcony :s. 

Hat Yai, just before we realized what time it was..

We learnt that Koh Phangan has long been where the heart of the Thai King lies. A spiritual hub that's been partly taken over by the full mooners but still retains it's beauty. Haadrin beach, the host of the notorious FMParty, has a different vibe, and neon shirts that read 'drugs saved my life' and 'let's get f*cked' litter the shops along the sand. Horny dogs ran around humping whatever they could see, the difference between teenage boys and dogs suddenly seeming less vast..
That day was pure adrenaline, for the second time round. Breakfast, tickets to Koh Tao, room paid for, clothes packed, lunch, trek. It was only $7 to get to Eden by boat, but there was supposedly a path that lead through the jungle to the other side of the beach where Eden was located. We'd only heard one story so far about that trek, a guy had done it at the last moon party, and was found where he'd begun, having made no progress, covered in scratches and armed with one lighter. He'd sat on a giant rock all night, staying elevated from the floor that crawled with snakes and insects before he managed to find his way back in the morning when daylight came. The story didn't put us off trying, and in an effort to prove everyone wrong, we set off, with 1 hour of daylight left, a head torch, clothes for that night and a strong sense of willpower. The first few locals we asked for directions all laughed 'it's hard man, it's really hard' was the general response we got - but we set off anyway. The first 15 minutes were spent heading in the wrong direction, and when J asked a group of local lads for help, he ran back shouting 'he's got a knife' - deja vu?

Koh Phangan

So we scrambled back down the hills we'd just walked up, and began again, 45 minutes till darkness fell. The path was tough, but manageable, we followed the water pipes knowing that if someone had built these, they had to lead to a way out. We ended up at a small, concrete bridge that lead nowhere. Via trial and error we tested every possible path, and with the light fading and our water volume decreasing, panic began to rise. We decided, that no matter what, we had to keep moving, the millions of mosquitoes could no longer get to us, because of the dense jungle that left them with no room to fly. The water pipes were gone, the floor was crawling with tropical tings, we had no clue what direction the sea was and the only visible sign was a patch of sky, to tell us what time it was. J kept his cool and put on the head torch, my breath started quickening as I asked our surroundings for help and looked at the giant rocks in front of us. My plan would've been to somehow climb up a rock (with huge drops on either side of it if you fell), and scream for help, or jump into the water and swim to land, wherever that was. J was contemplating spending the night in the Jungle, and working out how much water we had left, so my plan went out the window. I felt a drip of water, and before we knew it, the rain began to POUR. Hanging onto branches, like Tarzan and Jane we swung, slid and ran through that jungle, in whatever clear space we could find, following the dim light from the headtorch. At last, after 3 hours, we spotted a plastic bottle, a sign of civilization! We followed the bottle and slid down the face of the mountain, landing on a dirt road - whaaaaat.

Crazy roti man

Nearby was a wooden house, we knocked on the door, drenched in rain, trying to keep anything in the bag that was'breakable' dry, by wrapping it in my half drenched sarong. A group of men came out, a look of sympathy evident on their sun kissed faces. We asked where we were, 'Haadrin' they replied. That definitely wasn't possible, we hadn't just walked in a loop - that was where we'd started. We soon realized we'd been asking for directions to the wrong beach, the entire time. 'Eden?' J. asked with arched eyebrows as we held on to the tiniest bit of hope, 'oh just over there!' they pointed to the other side of the beach. We were amazed and still shaking from our 3.5 hour adrenaline rush, we walked into the nearest restaurant that was screening the movie 'couples retreat' on a projector. We jumped into the sea, shivering from the cold but washing all the grime, insect bites, scratches and jungle off of us. We sat down with wide eyes, still in disbelief at being in a completely civilized setting where everyone was calmly eating their dinner. As we sat down, the scene that played in front of us made our mouths hang and our eyes bulge even more. The couples in the movie were on a holiday together and had all just gotten lost in the jungle, only to stumble across an amazing party where everyone was reunited, but get this, the party, was called 'Eden' - talk about synchronicity. We raved our well-deserved night away and I happened to bump into a mate from my yoga retreat who lived around the corner, and a very old friend who I hadn't seen in 6 years since high school in Sri Lanka - strange coincidences made that night incredible, and our story was appreciated by all who knew the land. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlNzGC49-jg  was the song that came on at 7am as everyone's dirty side emerged. The energy began to lapse so we made our way over to bamboo hut for a morning ice coffee, coconuts and tea with my old friend from high school. I looked out over the rocks with the naturally carved faces all over it, feeling a tinge of deja-vu, I'd been in that exact spot about 6 years ago with my family, how times had changed.

Eden

We had skipped on accommodation that night in favour of dancing, but the lovely manager gave us back our room for a shower and a chill-out, before out boat to Koh Tao left at 12pm. Being our usual selves, we were the last ones on the boat, with -1 minute to spare - running along the deck, with our backpacks on, trying to stop our eyes from closing and craving a glass of water, as the boat driver screamed that they were leaving, we somehow made it. I closed my eyes for a second and we were in Koh Tao, with tuk tuk drivers all screaming down our necks 'TAXI! TUK TUK! WHERE YOU GO!? I TAKE YOU!' Oh godd. 

Right after our last dive!

We walked through the crowds and sat down to eat our first meal, at about 3pm. Our free pick-up arrived on time and we were whisked off to our sterile room in the middle of a little village, close to DJL diving centre, where I spent the next 3 days getting qualified to dive. Koh Tao is the cheapest place in the world for diving, hence why a million dive shops litter the area, but once you're away and in that underwater world, listening to the rhythm of your breath, watching the bubbles from other people's regulators below you race up to the surface, turning into silver plates with the water pressure. It's like you're on the moon with no gravity, floating up, down, hovering above the surface to watch the symbiosis between a crab and it's guard-fish, the beautiful coral gardens, the odd sting ray and shooing away the annoying blue fish that nibble at any cuts or dead skin. The weather was a means to an end, we were caught up in a week-long storm, but as a first diving experience, it didn't really matter as the excitement trumped all other emotion (after the cringey 80's diving video had passed through our system). It did make J's life slightly harder, staying entertained on land. But when I finished my days work, we'd drive up to 'high bar' that looked out over the island and the sea, or play backgammon at a sweet local cafe, or light candles and read in the room. We walked through stumbling, drunk teens with red eyes, to get to the roti stall where a mad-man flipped around his rotis. He moved with precision, flare and a touch of violence, causing everyone within a 2m radius to take a step back. That's one of the things I can appreciate most about SEAsia, it may not be the most developed region in the world but the little things are done to perfection and with such admirable skill.


Suddenly, like a slap in the face, the last day had arrived. We somehow had to cram in 3 dives, as the previous day, my diving buddy's hungover dad had passed out overboard, meaning a crew of about 50 divers had to leave the site early. So we soaked up every minute that we had, exploring all the cracks and crevices of Mango Bay, Koh Tao for hours. I watched a parrot fish rip apart a sea urchin, hearing the crunch of it's spikes as the fish ruthlessly ate away - it was no different to watching a dog rip apart a piece of meat.. fascinating. We arrived back, paid for our room,, collected our passports, inhaled our last delicious Thai meal and jumped on our sleeper boat for our 35+ hour journey home. All the beds were lined up next to each other, and just as my eyes began to droop, a shriek from a French woman nearby made us all jump. A dead gecko had fallen onto her shoulder, leaving a nice yellow smear on her T.Shirt and stinking out our area until the sea breeze blew it away. A live alarm clock bellowed 'everyone get off! We're here!' 6 hours later, so we wiped the sleepy dust from our eyes, and headed to the bus station to wait for our bus to Hat Yai. Into a mini van we squeezed, picking up various people that had all been on our sleeper boat (and scammed into being driven to the 'correct bus station' when we hadn't paid a thing). With not enough sleep, J and I rowed over my bladder control as tears were shed and hair was ripped out.. in the least violent way possible, so we kissed and made up and arrive in Hat Yai. 

Sleeper boat

Hat Yai is a maze, a gridded city where I'm sure everything was designed to look the same. We were given one hour, so we headed off to wander the town, making sure we had a landmark to return to (the 7-11 on the corner..) An hour later, we're running around like headless chickens, asking everyone 'Is there more than one 7-11??' and getting a laugh in response, followed by a little nod of the head 'yes, only one'. So we circled this one 7-11, sure that it wasn't the right one but going by the word of the locals. 30 minutes later, we'd jumped into a tuk-tuk and instructed him to drive us around to every 7-11 he knew, turning each corner to see a new one, much to our frustration. Soon enough we spotted the right one and ran into the travel agent with a look of total hopelessness, preparing to argue our case. Much to our surprise, we got the immediate response of 'You got lost? Don't worry we've booked you another bus for 3.30' phew, I guess we weren't the only ones who'd done it... 

Nasi Kandar in Penang :)

We wandered around talking and playing backgammon to kill time, before being put on a bus loaded with a family from Indonesia who were all wearing matching T.Shirts and excited to share their stories and hear ours. We made it through immigration, had a little snooze, played a bit of wordmole and arrived in Georgetown, Penang for dinner. Nasi Kandar! Roti Cannai! mmm, it was good to be back, and the hospitality was more than we'd experienced in a while. We filled our tummys and wondered back to the bus, half an hour early. We weren't going to take our chances. We hopped on the freezing cold sleeper bus, and passed out until arrival in Kuala Lumpur. J told the taxi driver his address and we rode along familiar roads, passing the twin towers, the billboards and the Nasi Kandars. Hopping over the fence wasn't an option this time as J's new dog righteously barked at the strangers with backpacks until his parents came to the door. We shared a few stories and laughs and crashed out in a luxurious bed, with hot water in the shower and clean sheets. Wow. We're back, and I can't help feeling that the last 6 months was all a dream..

(A little verse of summer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkDDRdKaN8o)

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/