Could those leaving China please form an orderly queue...

After two nearly three weeks in the Peoples Republic of China it was now time to leave this sacred land and head south and into, excitedly, The Socialist Republic of Vietnam. After spending the day in Nanning finding it increasingly difficult, we headed towards the train station and to the open arms of the Chinese sleeper train that would take us on the long track south. Getting there a good hour before the train was due to leave we thought, naively or not, that we would have bags of time to fill before boarding the train. Time that could be spent hunting for food (or what closely resembles it in Nanning)and letting Shell make her tenth stop to the toilet. In reality, after maybe 10 minutes of waiting, the entrance was inundated with literally thousands of Chinese tourists, all being led by very loud, shouty tour guides who waved certain flags to keep the hoards under control. Well if you can imagine say, a bag full of corks trying to fit through a 2 inch gap, then that would probably do it justice. Now I know that us as Brits are mildy obsessed with forming queues but you would have thought that even the smallest piece of human instinct would be to STOP PUSHING, alas, here in southern China, certainly not. After maybe twenty minuntes of pushing with our big rucksacks and LOTS of angry swearing on our part we managed to literally jump through the gate and handed our bags in to be X-rayed. It was at this point, with Shell a few people behind me, that she would be electricuted by a metal fence as she picked up her bag. Stopping in pain, she was then shouted at by a few iritating little Chinese tourists for daring to pick her bag up before theirs. Shell started crying. Bless her.

Wiping away the tears, we realised that due to the mass hysteria of the Chinese populace on the move, we were now only five minutes away from the train leaving. Dashing around like the Chuckle Brothers searching for ladders we accosted an official, stuffed our tickets in his face and demanded to be led the way. Amazingly, he calmly pointed us in the right direction where we ran like the wind and threw our belongings onboard. Having booked 'hard sleeper' we did initially, fear the worst. Maybe a few stray chickens and smell of feet, in reality we got a very quiet, if not very open, carriage. With three bunks in each small compartment we wondered who would be climbing above us but the train was pretty quiet so after playing cards for a while we decided to try and get some sleep before we hit the Vietnamese border. Before that an old woman, dressed in an all in one red tracksuit (think Soviet olympian circa 1984) introduced herself to us but said she only spoke Russian and German, before we could respond- she was off, off into her own world of Communist bunnies.

At about midnight the train abrubtly stopped and on came a very serious looking Chinese immigration official who extremely slowly, no no, painfully slowly, started to take each and everybody's passport one by one. After spending nearly an hour checking every piece of information he returned and repeated the same slow process, checking then double checking each and every photo to our faces. Once he had left and we were on our way we stopped once more and repeated the process just outside the Vietnamese border. This time we were told to get off and wait in a 'holding area' with the walls adorned with Socialist portraits and insignia of their National hero and saviour, Ho Chi Minh. After waiting for a while again we were told to stand up and collect our passports as they shouted. As the scary Vietnamese offcial angrily shouted 'THOMAS!' I could of sworn I was back in Primary school with Mr Reynolds.

An hour later at about 5am we pulled up in the pitch black at a station just outside of Hanoi where a taxi driver would not leave us alone. As we were tired and it was dark in a strange country we went with him, even though deep down we knew he would try to screw us over. In the end he did, only by about a dollar but it could of been worse. After being kindly let in at 5.30am to the hostel and offered a bed early we slept for an hour or so and then hopped back out into Hanoi to explore the city.

After dodging the famous and completely mental traffic of the old quarter we navigated our way down to Ho Kiem Lake, which basically acts as the centre piece of the city centre. Being an extremely characterful city full of French colonial architecture we took an instant liking to the place after the hyper-mordernisation of China. Walking down the narrow streets, smelling wafts of freshly baked baguettes and then turning to be met by a cathedral, you could have been in Paris. Although the choking smog and high humidity definitely suggested otherwise!

The big difference we decided, compared to exploring China, was the smell. Upon walking through the Chinese streets we were constantly met by a very strange smell but we could never figure out what it was. We knew it was coming from the food stalls and restaurants but couldn't quite place what it came from. It was a hideous smell. Thankfully the only thing you can smell here is the vast array of women cooking noodle soup on the pavements. Something which come 8pm turns the entire city centre into one big seated eating area. No space is wasted as people of all ages sit down to eat Pho Bo (chicken noodle soup), Goi cuon (freshly packed spring roll filled with pork, shrimp, herbs, rice noodles and fresh greens) and a multitude of other dishes. Everything looks fresh and smells amazing. A real foodies heaven.

The next day we booked our Ha long bay trip through our hostel, who have been incredibly helpful. I keep telling them they are amazing and they keep responding with a smile by telling me it's thier job. You have to love that. Apparently Monday is Vietnam's 'day of rest' so we explored the streets for the whole day, stopping for noodle soup and 40p Ba Ha Noi beers, the local tasty brew, we explored everywhere, increasing our confidence of crossing the roads as we went. I know we've written about it before but crossing the roads here takes skills that cannot be learnt anywhere other than through experience. It is, without any exaggeration at all, absolutely mental. We have also never been to a place with so many bookshops, which I think says evrything you need to know about he people that live here.

That night we bought tickets for the best and most famous show in town, the Water Puppet Show. Now I know my words will not do it justice in any way but we sat for an hour and watched, in amazement, an array of puppets prance through water, playing out different historial scenes to the backing of an orchestra. Check the photos and the video, it will hopefully do it justice.

After 'forgetting' to eat for a good number of hours we were both approaching cranky territory so decided to quick march it to get food. As we sat down on stools no higher than six inches we were provided with a plate full of fresh beef, herbs and vegetables and a hot plate. After looking at each other I got started to feed my craving of cooking once again, it's been a while! Finishing up after a few too many beers we decided that we would head back to the hostel for our 5am start tommorrow morning, thick heads indeed!

Much love, Tommo xxxxx