Nha Trang beach living...

After four excellent days enjoying the Hoi An high life we had just a few hours spare before the long, overnight bus journey south to Nha Trang, the next stop on our Vietnamese adventure. Before then we made the most of our last few hours in this charasmatic and beautiful little place. After spending virtually the whole day wondering the streets, stalls and shops we finally tore off the spending shackles and bought enough local produce to rival any of the local busnisses. Sticking to our daily budget has, at times, been a bit of a struggle but despite buying a stack full of items we even managed to stay within budget, which probably tells you more about our tightness than it does about the local prices. To be fair to the two of us though, we have become clinical barterers. It's going to be strange, when that day finally comes along again, when we have to buy milk and bread from the local Co-Op without the ability to knock a few pence off. I guess we could give it a try but I think the special employees may get a tad confused.

After buying quality chop-sticks, some much needed vests, a few pictures, another tacky magnet and Shell's replacement 'travelling' engagement ring we were done, glad to retire to another great (and cheap!) restaurant to fill up before our long journey. We ate at a place called Morning Glory, which despite the name, did yet more amazing food without a male waiter in sight. You never know, they could have taken thier employers name literally! The food was delicious, yet again, but we decided that the service wasn't up to scratch, not enough smiles. It's amazing how you start to pick up on things now! From there we seemingly did a 'food crawl' and went over the road for dessert. A place that had cake portions the size and shape of a breeze block, I opted for Tiramisu and Shell the Mango cheesecake and within a milisecond several pounds had been added, and I don't mean the bill. As we sat finishing our coffees we noticed an old boy walking down the street holding a big set of weighing scales. He went up to the nearest female he could find and threw it at her feet demanding she step on. It just never get's any less surprising to me, the enterprising spirit of this nation. It's as if the whole country wakes up in the morning at 6am, looks around the room and thinks 'how do I pay for my scooter petrol and cigarettes today?'.

Back at the hotel and waiting for the bus we were startled by two guys in helmets on two motorbikes. They got off and beckoned us to get on, with all of our bags. Now I honestly can't remember ever being on a motorbike before and I know Shell certainly hasn't, so this proved to be a bit of a challenege. Turns out, these guys would be giving us a lift to the bus which was waiting downtown. So on we got, both of us with our big rucksacks on our backs, the smaller bags on our front, I was carrying a bag of two 2 litre bottles of water in one hand and, embarrasingly, two small quiches balanced in the other that we had bought for the bus journey, all while hanging on to old Valentino Rossi for dear life. You really can't make this stuff up, a real British wally.

After being the last two people to get on the bus, we were ingloriously pummelled into the last two remaining berths, one in one section of the bus and one in the other. We were on a similar bus before, with three rows of beds, but this even had people sleeping in the exceedingly small corridors between the beds too. So in my section there were four people sleeping pretty much side by side all the way, for 12 hours! The bus also, amazingly, played really really shit Vietnamese pop music really loudly until at least 2am, at which time an old German guy had obviously had enough and went absolutely mental, I think threatening to eat the driver if he dared to turn it up a notch again. At that point we had turned into wrecks after being pummelled all through the night by a dual nightmare of both poor roads and terrible driving.I guess the only salvation of the bus trip was meeting another English couple, Mark and Luara, who we instantly got along with. Upon reaching Nha Trang we exchanged email addresses and planned to meet up the following night. Just as long as we could stop looking and feeling like relatively tanned zombies.

After checking into our hotel, Le Suisse, we plonked down our bags and managed to get a couple of hours sleep in before we woke, took one look at the Blackpool-esque weather outside and decided to take a long breakfast upstairs. The breakfast bar, on the tenth floor, is pretty special, it has amazing views of the mountains to our back and ocean to our front, interspersed with hotel high-risers, something which is all over this town, a kind of laid-back and overall better version of somewhere on the Costa Del Sol. Not that it looked anything like holiday weather outside. Despite this, we finished our breakfast and headed out to explore our new surroundings. That night we met up with Mark and Laura, after a marathon skype session with friends and family and headed to one of the local bars for drinks. They're situation is scarily like ours after getting engaged just before they came away too. Unlike us though, they have everything planned and will be getting married soon after they arrive back in the UK next summer, good on them though, really nice guys. I doubt we will be that organised. My role in this wedding thing has alrready been and gone! Well apart from demanding a hog roast and real ale stall. I don't want much...

The next morning the weather had changed and so had our impressions of Nha Trang, transferring instantly from shitty Northern beach resort to tropical paradise. Maybe the latter is a tad flattering but we both love the beach and Nha Trang supplements that with a bay that curves around, dotted in places with little islands. The beach itself is good, apart from the absolute incessant hawkers who try to sell you anything from sunglasses and bracelets to books and flat, dry pancakes. In any one day I think the average, 'no thankyou' count stands at around fifty, truthfully. The sea itself it majorly rough, but apparently this only happens in late October-early November, the rest of the year it is furtively calm. Nice. After seeing Mark and Laura down on the beach we planned to meet up later that night again and head out for curry, one of the guidebooks reccomendations. It turned out to be as good as they suggested in the book and an absolutre steal for around £3.50 each!

From there we got hustled into one of the bars with promises of a about a million drinks for free. I don't know if it is like this usually but I have got absolutely no idea in the world how this place makes any money whatsoever! Between the four of us, beacause of various drinks deals, we had two bottles of Tiger beer and either a Gin and Tonic or a Mojito between us and it cost 20,000 VD each, (55p!!). Absolutely insane.

For our final day in Nha Trang we essentially read our books and sat on the beach, batting back the constant array of sellers and planning our next moves down towards Saigon. We are well on our way now! What a life this is. We are certainly not taking it for granted. Tomorrow we take a bus south for around 4 hours to a mountain town called Dalat, a place where strawberries and flowers are grown widely instead of the usual rice, a climate that may mean we don two layers, no way!

Much love, Tommo xxxx

Finding hidden treasures amongst Hoi An's riches...

So after yet another morning of having to get up with the Vietnamese (6am-they don't mess around!), we boarded the bus that had pulled up outside the hotel in preperation for the 4 hour journey south to the small, ancient town of Hoi An, a journey of 250kms. After finding out that we were yet again on the same bus as at least four other couples who we had met at other times in Vietnam we were on our way. After an hour or so of passing through increasingly rural backdrops it dauned on you that this area was a prime target for US air strikes that did so much to devestate a rich and fertile land, not that the people living around this area make a decent living off the land. On the road towards Danang, the biggest city in the area, you come across the desperation of some of the local population. As cars hurtle past they run as fast as they can to try and make at least a small sale. All they seem to be holding, these girls who must have been in their twenties, was a small collection of small skinned, lifeless chickens. The look on one woman's face as it became increasingly obvious that her neighbour had miraculously managed to wave down a car was heartbreaking. This isn't poverty at it's most destitute and detructive, they still have a roof over their heads and clothes on their bodies, just a desperate attempt to sell at least something that will provide at least some sustenance. The problem is with Vietnam, after being a here a very short while, is that people are absolutely desperate to throw off the shackles of poverty, to become as wealthy as possible. The problem is that if all the population have the same aspiration then they become less genuine as a result. The people, almost as much as in China, seem to be losing common sense, the ability to see clearly. Instead their unblinkered aspiration of wealth just creates problems. The evidence of which can be seen everywhere.

Anyway after being dropped off at the hotel we dropped down our bags and headed straight back out to check out the town. Before we got to the old town, an UNESCO world heritage sight, we ate at a fantastic little place called Streets cafe. This place, run by a serious-ish New Yorker who told us all about tightly woven rice paper (great conversation actually) is an absolute gem. It finances disadvantaged young people to become great chefs and waitresses which in turn means young people who try as hard as possible to create an astonishing eating and dining experience, all for the cost of a pint. Shell had a crispy pancake filled with pork and shrimps which came with coriander and lettuce and several rice papers for you to roll your own fresh spring rolls. I had Cau Lau, the local Hoi An speciality. It consists of big doughy noodles, thick slices of pork, greens, chillies and a great sauce in the bottom for you to mix around. It also had amazing croutons made out of crackling. Just incredible.

Walking around the old town two things came to mind. One, this was definitely the hottest we had been yet, we felt as if we were melting! Secondly, the abundance of tailor shops. Now Hoi An is famous for it's tailoring, that you can understand, but when faced with the choice of over 400 different ones it becomes just a slightly weird. How anyone could pick and choose between this lot is a mystery to me. We discussed the possibility of having some clothes made, in fact we sat with a couple of women and discussed our options but in the end we just couldn't think far enough ahead to be thinking about having suits, wintercoats and shoes made. It just didn't make any sense at this point in our trip. I'm sure we'll regret it one day but then hey, it's clothes, just things. Things we can without. Materialism helps nothing.

On the way back to the hostel we sat and had a beer in the delight that at 10p each, we had found our cheapest ever drinks, and they were brutally cold and delicious. Utter perfection. In fact this is how it would play out for the next few days, eating and drinking way too much, in increasingly beautiful restaurants but never paying more than the price of one appetiser back home, for the entire meal!
The next day we hired bicycles from the lady across the road and headed towards the beach, 4 kms away. On the way we passed yet more stunning scenery until we were whistled at by a man in a large pointy hat to pull over and pay another bloke who took our bikes and put them in a large cowshed, for safekeeping. Finally at the beach we were both pretty amazed at the sight before us, masses of white sand, gloriously warm sea combined with a perfect sea breeze. We knew Vietnam had beaches but we didn't know they came as pretty as this! We stayed there the whole day, I even managed to get in my first run of our trip as I ran hard down the beach towards Danang and China Beach, the spot where American GI's had there R&R time during the war. On the way back I literally ran into a group of fisherman pushing their boats into the water, I offered to help but I think they took one look at at my perspiring body and thought they'd better stay clear of this madman, sweating beer.

After a good few hours we cycled the way back, not before stopping at a place called Dingoes Deli for coffee and cake. Like a mirage appearing in the middle of a hot desert, the place came completely out of the blue, prteyy much in the midst of rice paddies and a few roadside shacks selling seccond-hand aftersun (seriosly). The menu was full of mouth-watering options for lunch so we decided to come back the following day.

That night we opted for a place highly recomended all around that went by the name of Miss Ly's. After hearing about a taster menu they do there we both thought it would be foolish to miss out on our first ever taster menu so we decided to treat ourselves and go for it. Five courses of delicious Vietnamese and local specialities such as the White Rose, a delicately steamed rice paper and crispy fried wantons stuffed with pork with tomato and shrimp salsa on top. I've said it once already but I will say it again, the food here is mindblowing.

The next morning we woke up fine but were to be irritated for most of the day by the guy on reception in our hostel. After asking to move rooms to a cheaper one to save a little bit of money he seemed to find everything so funny. Although you can't ask everyone to understand how saving a few dollars a night is extremely important to us, you can try your hardest not to be a twat and laugh at these cheap little foreigners. He even had the audacity to talk to me then start smirking and turn around to his little Viet mong and start talking so that we couldn't understand whilst blatantly talking about us, in front of our faces. Now we have met some amazing Vietnamese during our time here but he is not one of them. It's Ok though, because he both looks and sounds like a mix between a Vietnamese Alan Carr and a school prefect.

After hiring bikes again from the very exciteable woman opposite the hotel (I think she likes us, someone has to!) we biked it down to the beach even though the weather wasn't as great as the previous day. As time passed the weather gradually improved until it was once again, blisteringly hot. By this time a large group from some indeterminate Eastern European country came and jumped into the sea despite the fact the red flags were out. We both laughed as we couldn't help but notice their strange choice of swimwear, all tight multicoloured speedo's and brown thongs. Stereotypes, sometimes, really do ring true.

Stopping once again at Dingoes Deli we ordered sandwiches, as we craved western style food for the first time in a while. I ordered a sandwich that came with at least ten different ingredients in! All this food and drink got us talking about how we've not had a bad meal in all of our time in Hoi An, well in Vietnam for that matter. If food is your your love then Hoi An is definitely your heaven...

The next morning at breakfast a spider the size of a small boy ran under our table, it literally looked like something out of Alien and for the next ten minutes after it made it's dash to the outside, I was shaking. But then so was Shell. We've had lizards, cockroaches, ants and birds in our rooms so far and we have been fine but spiders are a different matter. And before you all start saying things like 'wait till you get to Australia' or along those lines, I was there and I've seen the buggers, they are huge and deadly. This one though was the biggest I have ever seen and it had the purpose of a mental patient.

Outside the weather was appaling, real Monsoon conditions that didn't show any signs whatsoever of letting up as we made the 50kms or so to My Son, pronounced Mee Sun, Vietnam's prized archeological sight. Compared, quite unfairly (according to the guide) to Angor Wat, it is a huge complex of ancient ruins dating as far back as the 4th Century AD. Unlike Angor Wat though, My Son is very much in ruin. Apparently used a base by the Viet Cong during the war, the Americans sent in the bombers and obliterated about 85% of it, in typical 'precise' fashion. Even so, the building work was so consistently good that much still remained, including three enclosed temples. Despite the continous bombardment of rain and the increasing crowds all trying to take the same photos, it was an interesting morning, well worth the £1.80 entrance fee. Shell seemed to really enjoy snapping away, I however stood on the sidelines feeling grumpy not so much with the rain but with the irritating tourists. I just couldn't help but feel that everyone tries so hard to take these 'perfect' photos that they miss 50% of what is in front of them. It's such a shame!

Still, we are having an absolute blinding time, Vietnam is beautiful. Hoi An has given us so much in such a small amount of time. It has a great beach, amazing restaurants, an old-town of UNESCO status with a river running through it and the cheapest beer I have ever seen. Go, you will not regret it.....

Much love, Tommo xxxxx

The long long road to Hue

For our last day in Hanoi we decided that we needed to again get up as early as we can to make the most of the day (five days of pre-8am starts! It's like being back at work! In a way). After yet another complimentary breakfast of eggs, bananas and baguette we felt suitably nourished to give Hanoi a final check-up before our long journey south to Hue.

Eating out the night before after arriving back from Halong Bay we noticed that in comparison to the previous nights in Hanoi, it felt even more polluted, almost suffocating with the smog that had enveloped the air. Arriving back yesterday the clouds had arrived and just like the night before this day was even more laden with exhaust fumes due to the cloudcover keeping the air thick with filth. As we dodged the traffic yet again as we made our way west, it felt as if you had been trapped inside a garage with the car engine on.

After walking for about half an hour we eventually came across our destination, the Hoi Chi Minh Mausoleum Complex. Just before we hit the complex we stood in awe at a huge statue of Lenin which acted as a gateway to one of the big parks leading to uncle Ho's complex. From there we walked a few hundred metres and came across Uncle Ho's mausoleum. At the moment he is apparently taking a holiday in Russia to have a bit of R&R but the mausoleum itself stands proud as a shining example of stark Socialist architecture. The place was huge, far too big for a supposed Socialist revolutionaries final resting place. Although evidence of rampact and unregulated capitalism is all around you. As we walked back into town Shell 'accidentally' stepped the wrong side of the white line alongside the complex. A uniformed official started blowing his whistle whilst shouting something probably along the lines of 'walk the wrong side of that line again and I will shoot you in the knee caps and feed you tripe Dim Sum'.

From there we visited the Hao Lao prison, which was originally built by the French colonialists to house Viet revolutionaries. It was later used by the Viet Minh (North Vietnamese Communist Party) to house American fighter pilots who had been shot down during the famous war. The prison was, as far as prison visits go, fantastic. It was well kept and gave very specific if not gruesome accounts of the prisoners who had spent time there, some to their death. The prison conditions were appaling and despite the best efforts to portray the treatment of American prisoners of war as being in some kind of Butlins it was the apparent treatment of the Vietnamese by their French masters during the period 1894-1950 which was the most shocking. Several pictures of severed heads as a result of the guilotine on show was shocking enough but the being chained by your legs in complete darkness for months on end without one bit of light is mental torture to the N'th degree. Awful.

After finally getting our lips around fresh Vietnamese rolls in a restaurant reccomended by our hostel we packed up our stuff, hopped in a taxi and rolled up to the train station for our 600km journey south to the central Vietnam city of Hue, a journey that, apparently, would take 14 hours. Good job we had a sleeper cabin. After buying beers from a woman selling items directly outside the train we found out our cabin was directly next to three American guys who were super friendly. After chatting and drinking for a few hours I found out that one of the guys actually works as a border patrol man between the States and Mexico, I was extremely impressed. It's a job I would love to do so I sat there interrogating him for about an hour about his job and the contraversies it creates.

After a bumpy night being jolted up against the cabin wall everytime it stopped at the many stations along the way. And after drinking many beers with the American guys and a crazy, Russian speaking, Vietnamese Ho Chi Minh lookalike (see photo) we both woke up feeling rather grotty but happy to be in Hue, our next stop. After haggling with the local taxi driver yet again for a fee to the hotel, we ended up sharing with a German couple we had also met on the train. Arriving at the hotel we were amazed yet again at the hospitality and warmth shown by the hotel staff who, despite the fact we were paying around £9.50 a night, made every effort to make things easy for us.

After dumping our bags we headed out into the blistering sun and into Hue, a town divided by a large river full to bursting point after the recent Monsoon deluge that has threatened to engulf the entire region. After the chaos of Hanoi it was nice to be in somewhere a little less frenetic and after walking over the bridge we were impressed by the beauty before us. The Citadel stands on this side of the river, a massive complex of ornate tombs, townhouses, pathways and ponds all enclosed behind a metre thick protective wall. It all looked very imperial, slightly different to the Socialist remnents that you can still see in places. However, at the entrance across the road stood quite possibly the biggest, free standing flag and pole I have ever seen. Something the government thought was needed after the ornate feel of the Citadel across the road.

After briefly heading back to the hostel for a beer and a shower we reasearched the best places to eat and found, via Trip Advisor (amazingly accurate, we live by this website) a small family run place called, aptly, 'the family home restaurant, which having only four tables, was just that. It was like eating in someones house. After waiting a while for food we were not to be disspaointed. The food and staff were both incredible. It's the kind of food I have been craving in Vietnam (Shell can testify) and it hit every single spot. Two main meals of the freshest ingredients plus a side of eight fresh spring rolls (not deep fried) and two large beers came to £4! I could, naturally, get very used to this life.

The next morning we were again up early to board a coach to start a day long tour of several tombs, a pagoda, a traditional house and a cone-hat making facility. Despite the risk of 'temple fatigue' or of getting bored, each one was spectacular in it's own right. Each temple had a story and was built for a different emperor, all ruling between 1700-1900. Our tour guide, a small chap wearing a Barcelona shirt was fantastic and who had a great grasp of English. This meant our mulitude of questions which were lost with our guide in Halong Bay, were answered really well. He told us that the first emperor had 500 wives, the second hated woman and was openly gay (he called that one the Ladyboy emperor) and the third contracted Smallpox and couldn't have children so stole one from his brother! Kind of like the three bears, I guess having 500 wives would be 'just right'. Imagine that. 500 wives for you to say, 'yes, that one looks really nice, go for that one'. Maybe not.


On the way back we had spent the last half an hour (via boat this time) talking to a 68 year old Australian who had taken an interest in our trip. He introduced his name as Doug (of course) and that if we were in Australia he had a motor home that we could borrow when we were in Perth! Now I know you have to reserve your initial excitement due to being brought up in a world where conmen are all too real but this guy had no family and currently lives in Bangkok. Anyway after saying our goodbyes we told him where we were eating that night and went on our way, fully expecting to never really see him again. Low and behold after arriving at the restaurent (same place as the previous night) Doug was already sat there waiting for us. Over yet more sublime food he told us his history of his life as a lawyer before he had a breakdown and that he had sold everything and bought a motorhome and spent the last 18 months travelling through Australia. He was now in Thailand and has fallen in love with the place. His offer is completely genuine and has told us we can have it for as long as we like and that he has satellite tv, gps and all mod cons onboard. He has sent Shell photos of it and everything looks ok, in fact it is amazing. Only problem, obviously, is the fact that my appalingly embarrasing fact that I can't drive means that Shell would have to pluck up the courage to drive the six metre van but it is an automatic and I guess we can just plonk it in a couple of places and make the most of free accomodation for a while. Amazing. This trip, well....what can I say.

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