The End of 'Nam

I'll remember the journey from Nha Trang to Mui Ne for as long as I live. Before that night, I'd never seen a dead body. Seen plenty in films, plenty in games, but never in real life. As a kid, I used to imagine what it would be like to walk into an abandoned building and find a corpse. Think about what I would feel, what it would look like, and how it would affect me. It occured to me after this event, that thoughts like this may not have simply been an early fascination with mortality, but a way of preparing the mind for later in life.

About an hour outside Mui Ne, our bus slowed to an impossible crawl upon reaching the scene of an accident. Vehicles and people littered the sides of the road. Lights shone all around and clear signs of a collision were visible on the road. Memory tells me that the bus slowed even further as we passed this scene, but that may be a trick of the mind - time has a way of moving slowest when you least want it to. In the centre of all the distress was a partially covered body lying no more than 6 feet from my seat on the bus. I thank the fact I had removed my contact lenses an hour previously, or the vision would have been even more clearly defined. Questions
about the deceased raced back and forth in my mind but upon hearing no answers, I turned my attention towards searching for something more positive from the experience. This reminder of the frailty of life is testament as to why I am seeing the world now and what I still need to accomplish before paying the fiddler and dancing with the reaper.


The bus arrived at Mui Ne around 2:30 am. A pardon from the skies provided the first glimpse of the stars above Vietnam, and I went to sleep with a sunshine ray of hope for the next day's weather. It turned out that pardon was overruled and the rain reined supreme for the initial hours of play. Thankfully, this damnation of precipitation was only served for as long as breakfast and hiring motorbikes would once again be the best option for exploring the avenues.

Mui Ne is basically a town which has provided the meat to an otherwise skinny and indistinct coastal road. We headed north east out from the accomodation, following the road separating land from sea and imagined extending a leg out far enough to drag through the ocean. Our first stop was to the massive sand dunes in a hopeful attempt to satisfy some cravings for riding the white powder that would ellude our grasp in SE Asia.

Before our bikes were even stopped, we were hounded by local kids trying to hire us their 'boards'. I use the word 'board' loosely here as they were thin sheets of plastic with a hand grip at one end. Owing to this, and a pressing predilection for runs of over 5 metres, and boards you actually stand up on, we declined tenaciously generous offers and chose lunch instead.

Further round the headland are various beach resorts and a harbour. The area of coastline here gets strong winds and excellent waves - perfect for windsurfing & surfing. Unfortunately, these were not options afforded to us as "Charlie don't surf."

With no chance of a tan, Mui Ne offered few benefits, and the draw of Ho Chu Minh City (Saigon) became undeniable.

Ho Chi Minh City is home to over 10 million people and over 3 million scooters - a bottom of the range scooter costs about $220 here. Entrepreneurs looking to cash in on this obvious discrepancy from Western prices will have to first devise ways of buying and exporting said merchandise. Westerners aren't allowed to buy them and no company will export them for you. Still, I doubt your average street dweller would say "no" to $200 for his 2nd hand scooter but then you have the issue of driving it back to the UK.

"Organised chaos" is the term proudly used to describe their road traffic, but 'mayhem' is a more succinct and precise definition. Strangely the system seems to work; people go when they want, only worry about what's in front and when in doubt, floor it. In this way, it's much like watching an evacuation on scooters. Sure, every now and again, someone get's trampled but everyone gets out in the end.

No licence is necessary out here - road safety is simply down to the common sense of the person driving. For this reason, I challenge any Westerner to walk across the road, looking straight ahead, and not changing pace once leaving the confines of the pavement. This is the encouraged and often the only successful technique for crossing a road out here. However, it is only ever demonstrated with ease of indifference by locals and depressives - the rest of us look like we're participating in a line dance.

Our hotel room cost a new low of $4 a night. I'm not saying the place was bad but a family of stray dogs were abandoning the room as we moved in. Still, when you have stayed in mud huts in Nepal, you lose a lot of qualms about where you lay your head. As long as the beds are bug free, the sheets are clean, and there are no univited rodents, what else do you need?

Saigon is a vibrant city with a constantly adapting attitude, positive outlook, and good choice of nightlife. Our first dinner was at a small restaurant located away from the suggestions of Lonely Planet. The tables were long benches and the chairs were plastic garden furniture. The meal itself was probably the best in Vietnam so far. We had honey beef which you cooked on a grill at your table and dipped in the sauce when you were statisfied of it's non-rarity. The meat and honey sauce were both first class and the culinary skills of the chef were second to none.

We embarked on a city tour the first full day, with the comfort in knowing someone else was orgnising where to go, when to do it, and how much to pay.

The National War Museum has various american aircraft and weaponry displayed in the courtyard and a massive collection of Vietnam photography in the buildings. The presentation emphasised more of the tragedy of war, than assigning blame, and was therefore a more unbiased opportunity to study the events. The pictures were remarkable and each one offered a story of well over 1000 words. The one below is not one of these - it's just a cool gun.

Other sites of the day included: The Reunification palace (formely the Presidential palace); a lacquerware factory (more for tourists not concerned about carrying their purchases around other countries), the oldest Pagoda of Giac Loc (Turtle Temple), Ben Thanh Market (in China Town), and a drive by viewing of Notre Dame Cathedral and the Old Saigon Post office (so exciting they weren't worth stopping for).

In the evening, we got together with a mate (we'd previously met on the first bus from Bangkok airport to Th Kao San Road), and a couple of his friends to venture even further away from backpacker central. They had stumbled onto a gem of a restaurant previously and promised to take us there if we revealed it's location to no other travellers. No map was drawn and enough alcohol was consumed to protect it's location for future generations. But cheap beer was not the only luxury of this fabled free house. Oh no; they also sold grilled snake and had a tank(glass, not battle) full of them in the back of the place. Snake has a fish like texture to it with most of it's flavour in the skin. Once you got past the idea that the snake had simply been grilled and cut into segments so easy defineable that a 3 year old could reassemble it, the meat was actually quite enjoyable.

The next day we headed out to the "Cu Chi" tunnels to the north of Saigon. The area consists of over 220km of claustrophobic tunnels, on 3 subterranean depths, and a multitude of trap-door maimers to please even the most sadistic minds on Earth.

Our tour began with the customary short propaganda film about the US forces being evil devils but this time went into such detail to state that they bombed schools, hospitals, pots and pans, & vegetables. Questions as to the possibility of ‘good’ devils existing and the effectiveness of using kitchen equipment as an tear jerking example for senseless loss were not posed to our hosts.

Next up was a closer look at some of the wonderfully creative inventions the VC devised for maiming the US ground forces. They usually centred around the concept of a trap door concealing a hole filled with either poison tipped bamboo spears or nail filled rollers. Our guide proudly advised us that traps such as these were responsible for killing 8000 US soldiers and injuring nearly 4 times that amount. I find it strange that these traps have not had the air-time duly owed in the Hollywood Vietnam films. The idea of walking through a foreign land, fighting an enemy that hid under your feet, and being in constant danger of losing a limb if you trod in the wrong spot, gives a hint at how scared the US troops must have been.

The tour ended with a quick scurry around the tunnels for a couple of hundred feet and a glimpse at life for the VC during the war. The tunnels were so small that you had to hobble along in a crouch and so narrow there was barely room to turn around. They were also extremely humid, pitch black, and inhospitable to anyone but the insane, needy or rattus among us.

Vietnam clearly has different aspects to offer your senses than it's neighbours. The cities seemed of a different species to those in Thailand and Laos. The products of different parents with different importances stressed on them from an early age. Saigon had an refreshing independence to it's growth; less tarnished by the West than Bangkok and with more of a irrefutable desire to adapt to new ideas as it develops. Hanoi seemed almost resentful of our presence and in no way as effortlessly easy going as a town in Laos.

The people initially seemed intrusive because of the relentless persistency of their tuk-tuk / and moto taxi drivers. But, after stopping for a few of them, I realised that they genuinely did just want to chat and learn about English culture, as well as making a bit of money. Most will have a chat to you long after you have said you don't want a taxi and many will offer help with directions without hesitation. I realised that I felt they were delaying me in some way and for that reason became annoyed. If you look at speed of how things are done out here, you realise that there is no hurry. Food in a restaurant is never brought out for the people in your group at the same time, and more often than not, you don't even get the rice and meat of your own meal in unison. The urgency I felt was especially unwarranted considering my time-table on most days. Western living had simply infused the need to get everywhere quickly and work to set times. The search for efficiency had caused the loss in memory of basic human privileges such as talking and helping one another

Vietnam has shown many reasons for a return visit with the most important one being that we simply didn't have enough time to do it justice on this one. There were so many things we didn't have time to visit and others which we couldn't see in their full glory because of rain. At times, we'd even knelt down and prayed for sunny salvation, but our calls were never answered by anything but rain. My tour was up and we were leaving Nam. The eternal conflict between temples and bars and subsequent possession of my soul was never concluded.

Vietnam - heading South for winter

We travelled through the night again to save time & money, arrived ready for breakfast in Hue. Our only real interest was the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ), so we were gutted to learn that the tours for that day had already left. Never to be beaten by other people's time-tables, we established what limited options were available and hired a couple of motorbikes. They didn't have a clutch so were relatively easy to drive, but torrential rain caused the thought of further riding to be untenable after realising we had only travelled half the way and were soaked. So, 50km outside Hue, we reluctantly admitted defeat, returned the motorbikes, and made our way to a bar to see out the rest of the monsoon.

Our bus for Hoi An was due to leave the next morning at 8:00am. We woke at 7:55am (only thanks to a well timed text message ;) - thanks Lucie) and just about managed to pack everything in time to jump on the bus before the hand brake was removed.

The draw of Hoi An, was a couple of recommended beaches nearby, and the prospect of buying tailor-made suits at bargain basement prices. This proved to be an understatement. It seemed the only type of business in town was suit / dress makers and the costs were so low it was hard to stop a domino effect of buying more once the taste took control. The choices were immense - catalogues and modern magazines to select your style, and then a massive selection of fabrics and colours on offer. Knowing that there are people with far better ideas on this stuff than me, I thought it best to use the design skills of Gucci and Mr. Paul Smith. Now, what would go with a couple of new suits? Surely it would be rude not to buy a few new shirts as well - 2 cotton, 1 linen, 1 silk. I know, I know, it's far too much spending when travelling. I mean 80 quid is an extortionate amount for all of those items.

It would be worth having a holiday in Vietnam every few years, just to get a dozen new suits and shirts made. You could realistically have a 2 week vacation, see the length of the country, get 10 suits, 10 shirts made, and have a week on the beach for about 800 pounds. Cash back! Alternatively, the lady in this store said she would keep my measurements and airmail new suits direct to England whenever I want. So, anytime I felt like a new suit, I could have one delivered from Vietnam for around 50 quid! This may explain why Jonathan Ross seemingly wastes so much money on his suits and vomit provoking styles. Alternatively, he may just be a bit of a tit with his sense of humour clearly worn on his sleeve. Tailor your own conclusions.

Thankfully, mother nature had the decency to ease off the rain in the afternoon and allow us the opportunity to see parts of the town further a field than those which were protected by shop roofs. Hoi An has a real charm to it; there is a clear difference from the hectic ness further north and a warmer attitude to it's people. It had a village feel to it that was reminiscent of Laos and managed to boast two of the best 'local' specialities I have tried - the 'Cau Lau' & 'White Rose' are well worth checking out.

Another night bus later and we arrived at Nha Trang, still under the relentless fury of the rain. There isn't much to do a beach resort when it's pissing it down so we took it easy the first day, played some pool, had a few drinks and booked an island hopping trip for the next day (there's that optimism again). The first stop was to 'Hon Mun' or more dramatically labeled 'Ebony Island' due to the colour of it's dominant geology. The draw of this island was the opportunity to snorkel around the coral reef which encircles it's coast line. Although visibility was down to a dismal 1.5m, the rain provided motivation to stay underwater and see the potential of the area. A shame that the potential was the only thing you could see clearly. It was still a great taster of what reef diving is like and has heightened my desire to find clear water and complete a Scuba diving course.

While on route to the next island, a massive buffet lunch consisting of king prawns, fried beef, squid, spring rolls, rice, noodle and mixed veg. was laid out for us. Our characteristic hosts then provided a few bottles of red wine (probably the worst that's ever passed my lips, but also the strongest - 16%), brought out some musical instruments, and played their intepretations of some classics. The instruments looked like they're been salvaged from a ship wreck and the guitarist was introduced as Vietnam's favourite lady boy. This poor gender confused guitar wielder was also either severely paranoid or one buffet short of a side dish, as he wore a motorbike helmet the entire day.

The tambourine man also appeared to be a bit 'special', and defiantly denounced his lady boy label, by proudly declaring he was just a 'homosensual'. The combination of the band of misfits and cheap strong wine made for a hysterical performance, climaxing with the tambourine man dancing with an Australian lady and not knowing who should be leading.

Our next stop was Hon Tre island where we had an hour to go 'swimming on the beach' (still not sure how this is achieved), play some volleyball, or finish off the cheap wine from the comfort of a shaded deck chair. I probably would have been up for the volleyball but as the heavens were not closing anytime soon, the shaded deck chair was an easy choice.

Two bottles of wine and an hour later, we left Hon Tre and moved onto the final island for the day. The boat moored at the floating harbour and people could pay to have a ride in the local's circular boats. As thrilling as this seemed, I managed to resist temptation and stayed on the main boat.

Rain forced an early finish to the day and consequently provided a few hours to sleep off the wine before heading out to the main club in Nha Trang, 'The Sailing Club'. Contrary to the 'homosenseul' undertones of a club named as such, it was a surprisingly good club the best drinking den in town. You'd think that hardly any westerners were in the town by the numbers
in some bars but this place draws everyone out of the sand. That may be because it's one of the only serving bars between 12 & 4am but there was no better place to be during these hours.

When that bar closes, and it seems like the only option is to hit the sack, another bar gets it's 2nd wind, and everyone continues drinking until breakfast. I called it a night when a pool cue became a walking stick, and decided to face the gaunlet of nighthawks on the way home. Luke had been persistently pursued by a scooter riding chick-boy the previous night so I left the bar ready for battle. I was approached only once and a swift F'-off was all it took to dissuade further advances.

A cloudy head and a late start dominated the following day with solace being sought in buying CDs and improving the MP3 player - my ipod falls ever closer to the tree.

Vietnam - "a country, not just a war"

The bus journey from Vientiane to Hanoi takes 24 hours. When confronted with a future as bleak as this, I couldn't help but think about the wise words of The Ramones - "20, 20, 24 hours to go. I wanna be sedated." So, with the help of the soothing tones of Valerie and Liam, the journey passed by as easy as passing out - sleep is a wonderful past-time.

We managed to find a hostel with ease thanks to a tout waiting with a taxi at the bus depot. Thankfully, this was not a scam; the hostel was just what we were looking for and located ideally in the Old Quarter. It was simply called 'Sinh Youth Hostel' and I'd definitely recommend it as the staff were friendly and helpful with arranging everything from a Visa to a 2 day excursion. We'd met a couple of Australians and an English girl on the bus, so as soon as everyone was showered, we ventured out to get some food and booze. On various street corners of the city, you can find locals selling cheap beer from large kegs, and people gathered around them on plastic kid's chairs. This 'Hoi beer' cost about 7 pence a glass! OK, it tasted like cat piss, but for 7p a glass, you could afford to down a few, until the alcohol kicked in and they started tasting better. That's got to be the cheapest beer so far.



We spent the first day, exploring the streets of the Old Quarter (which seem to change their names at virtually every junction), walking around the lake, and taking in a few of the sights. The first was the Ngoc Son Temple, situated on an island in the northern section of the lake. The temple houses the preserved body of a giant turtle, a type of which is known to occupy the lake. Legend has it that the gods once gave Emperor 'Ly Thai To' a magical sword to vanquish his invading enemies from China. After winning the war, the emperor was out boating on the lake one day, when a turtle surfaced and stole the sword. The legend states that this turtle was sent from the gods to return to the sword to the heaven, but I hasten to suggest it was the creative dramatisation of a careless emperor who was mugged by a turtle. The people of Vietnam were less cynical and renamed the lake, Ho Hoan Kiem (Lake of the Restored Sword).



After a short walk around the lake, we arrived at the Temple of Literature. It was dedicated to Confuscious in 1070 by Emperor Ly Thang Tong, and later established as a university. It houses 82 stelae honouring the men who receieved doctorates in the triennial examinations dating back to 1442. Now, that may not be of interest to most of you so I'll just say, it was well kept, nice looking and would be a good place to just hang around, if the weather was good and you had some time to slaughter.

With the Air Force museum being closed, and the Maosuleum restricting access to trouser wearing folk, our choices were fairly limited as to where to go next. So, what better place to check out than the old Hanoi Hilton - the prison. Generally an interesting place, but more so for their interpretation of history, the idealism of communism, and how they reckon they treated the American POWs. "Fiction can be fun, but I find the reference section much more enlightening." Still, I suppose everyone has to tell their own side of a story.

In the evening we went by the recommendation of the Lonely Planet and dined at restaurant Cha Ca 66 in order to try one of Hanoi's most famous specialities, "Cha Ca". It was a sort of DIY meal where the ingredients are supplied and you choose the amount of cooking induced and how the food is presented.

We couldn't leave the north of Vietnam without a visit to the Word Heritage site, Halong Bay. On a good day, you can see 3000 islands rise from the turqoise water of the Gulf of Tonkin. On the day we visited, the fog restricted the count to around half a dozen and gave us an important reason for revisiting this area.

Our first stop was to view one of the many caves inside the islands. Bathed in mood lighting and the expectation of chill out music, the caves were impressive and well worth checking out. Our next and final stop for the day was Cat Ba Island. Unfortunately, we hadn't the time or inclination to explore the island and instead opted for dinner, pool, and some sleep.

By the time we arrived back in Hanoi, it was practically time to jump on our bus to Hue. Fond farewells to the city were short and insincere. We had greater things in mind like reaching white beaches and blistering sunshine. Our journey south had much to live up to and offered no more promise than a more equatorial latitude. Optimism has always been a dominant virtue of mine.

Laos - The Beginning Ending

In order to check out the waterfall at Kuang Si and travel down to Vang Vieng in one day we decided to see the waterdall during the day and catch an evening bus. This would also provide the benefit of a few hours relative relaxation before moving on again.

The Kuang Si waterfall is located approximately 30 km south of Luang Prabang. Carved out of a limestone backdrop, it has multiple levels, and inviting pools scattered around it's base. With it being too cold to swim, we climbed the adjoining slope, explored the views, then enjoyed some lunch and chucked a frisbee around the car park.

The journey from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng travels along the infamous 'Route 13'. There haven't been any major incidents of bombings, hijacking, or mass murder along the route since 2003, but as a precaution, one passenger on the bus was armed with an AK47 - "when you absolutely, positively have to kill every mofo in the room, accept no substitute". I'd like to think that the reason he wore no uniform, was that he was some sort of special forces agent, but I'm guessing he was just another badass bus driver. Thankfully, he never needed to scratch his itchy trigger finger and our journey passed without incident. We arrived in Vang Vieng around 3am and booked into the nearest accomodation we could find. Given it's advantageous proximity to new arrivals the guest house didn't bother with cleanliness, & consequently we didn't bother staying longer than necessary - turned out to be after about 6 hours sleep.

Vang Vieng is a small town that has developed around an old US air strip. It is quickly gathering a name as Th Ko San road of Laos due to the availability of activities and party prescriptions. The government is apparently cracking down on the drugs issue, but as there was opium tea & mushroom shakes freely advertised on restaurant menus, I kind of doubt their presumed level of intolerance.

Our first activity whilst in Vang Vieng was an afternoon tubing. In Laos, they really know how to make you feel laid back. They give you an inner tube from a tractor tire, drive you a few km up river and then drop you off near the shore. After that, you sit in your tube, let the river take you back towards town, and stop off at whichever bars take your fancy. A few bars bars also had 'death slides' and swings throwing you out into the river which cost a few thousand kip to use, or were free if you bought a beer - you gotta love their stringent health and safety codes! Anyone for a bungee jump out here? I think I'll wait for a country that understands the concept of liability. With the sun quickly setting we continued floating on a psychedelic haze until mild pneumonia awoke our senses to a random taxi depot at the side of the river. As fun as the tubing was, everyone agreed to cut the day short in favour of warmer pastures.

The next day, we started our journey to the capital, Vientiane, but this time, broke up the ride by kayaking some of the way. This was apparently through some sections of grade 3 rapids but there was nothing too taxing for a couple of beginners. We stopped for a BBQ lunch at the side of the river and our guide took us to a couple of good jumping spots. The first was off a rock about 12 ft high. The 2nd was off a cliff, reached by a narrow ledge, at a height of about 30 ft. I always get an urge to throw myself off anything high so jumped as soon as the way was clear. The weirdest thing was that you'd be falling, expect to hit the water and then realise that you were only halfway down. Unfortunately, telling everyone else this proved less than motivational - I can't guess why.

Vientiane didn't really hold much interest for us as it was more of a stop gap before heading over to Vietnam. Still, we checked out the National History museum and went Ten Pin bowling before catching our night bus to Hanoi. Nothing too stressful as we had a bit of a journey ahead of us.

Note: We have now been informed that the speed boat trip we so thoroughly enjoyed on the way into Laos, currently has a record of one fatality a week. Funny, considering the only thing we were worried about at the time, was the fact we couldn't feel our legs. Oh lord.

Laos - The Beginning

We had just entered the most heavily bombed country on earth - between 1964 & 1973, the US flew nearly 600K missions, dropping over 2 million tons of bombs on this beautfiul country. 30% of them failed to detonate. Apart from that, Laos is still the pristine environment of unmanaged beauty that is was a 100 years ago when the French mozied in and misnamed the place Laos, instead of Lao. It is also known as 'Lan Xand' - (the land of a) Million Elephants, but this is rarely used by anyone except romantic tour guides and readers of the Lonely Planet.

The Chiang Khong / Huay Xie crossing between Thailand and Laos is a simple ferry ride across the Mekong river. From there, your choices to get to Luang Prabang are: 2 days on a standard boat, 10 hours on a bus, or 6 hours in a speed boat. I once heard that the worst thing about travelling is arriving. I agree in principle with this philosophy, but when you have three choices of how to get somewhere and they range in duration from 6 hours to 2 days, I think it's pretty obvious which one is worth going for. As it turned out, 6 hours in a speed boat was about 5.5 hours too long. There was nothing wrong with the ride itself, but the floor space appointed to each person was about 4ft squared. I say floor space as there was no seats. Sitting with your kness pressed under your chin for 6 hours tends to make you a little uncomfortable. The saving factors were the speed at which we travelled, the fact our driver wasn't drunk (as we'd heard is often the case), and the beautiful sceneray which provided just enough distraction from the discomfort to make the journey bearable.

SE Asia seems to have a laid back attitude in general but with Laos, you're so laid back, you're lying down. I'm blaming this infectious state of mind for our complete failure to research the country and find out that there are no ATMs. Believeing that we would draw out local currency as soon as we arrived at the first town, we were now in a situation where we had just arrived in a new country, with no currency, either local or the all-accepted US dollars. Thankfully, two blokes from England felt enough satisfaction in meeting two people who were less organised than themslves and lent us some money - thanks Andy & Dave! They heading north to go fishing to a sleep little village in the middle of nowhere, so we trusted fate and joined them.

The journey started with a 3 hour bus ride to Nong Kiaw and then a 1.5 hr boat trip to our destination, Muang Ngoi Neua. It is a beautiful little village which is only accessible by boat, has it's power supplied by a generators, and has an untouched earthly feel to it which is enhanced by a dusty sprinkling of mud to every building. We stayed in small huts, built on stilts and located a stone's throw away from the river. Stretching out from the huts was a small communal balcony area with hammocks supplied to soak up the atmosphere in an appropriate fashion.

Our search for a guide for the fishing was completed the moment we walked into the first restaurant. The owner, Kan, said he could take us on a day trip upstream and teach us some local fishing techniqies - lunch would be provided by us. The next day, we split into two 15ft boats and paddled our way up stream. The first stop was a small island which he suggested would be a good base to conduct some net fishing. First we used a circular net with chains spanning the circumference. This was thrown out into from the water's edge in hope that it trap any fish swimming past that spot when the chains sank. You'd then pull on a blue cord at the centre of the net which effectively pulls the chains running the border together and traps anything in the middle. That's the theory, anyway.

Further upstream, we used traditional rods from the shoreline, and worms which were collected from the river mud, as bait. This resulted in an absolute feast....for the fish, and a complete lack of lunch supplied by the rods. However, the grasp of technological innovation was on our side, and we proved our superiority with the application of a net big enough to trap everything swimming down river within a 20 yard area - our catch was served with spicy spinach, sticky rice and pumpkin jelly. We then washed down this veritable concoction of palatable delite with a shot of Lao Lao, and made our way back to the village.

The final days of Thailand - part 1

In Nepal, I mentioned that the secret to feeling comfortable in any accommodation was in owning a good sleeping bag which you could completely immerse yourself. In Thailand, I have discovered the secret to feeling relaxed in any location is in finding the nearest available swimming pool, to also immerse yourself in. True relaxation lies in the capacity to enjoy doing absolutely nothing - a luxury which the working population are not able to enjoy for the majority of the year, and one that I will no doubt utilise to it's full potential in the coming months. As a man far wiser than me once commented, you should have "moderation in all things, including moderation."

To balance our lazy days of doing sweet F.A. around a swimming pool, it was obvious that some physical exertion would be needed in the evening. I wasn't entirely convinced that this needed to be our physical exertion so decided it would be enough to watch a few kickboxing fights and let other people put in the effort. The night started with a couple of 8-year old's beating the proverbial out of each other and was followed by 11 other matches of fighters weighing up to 190 pounds and representing Thailand, Burma and even one for good Ol' Blighty. Unfortunately the fight with the English chap seemed more of an exhibition match showing his athletic ability rather than kickboxing skills and we're convinced his opponent took a dive. Mind you, he was a big bastard so short of a well aimed kick to his balls, I would've been diving as soon as he was within two feet.

After a couple of days of baking ourselves, that nagging sensation to see more of the sites became unbearable again and we ventured out to the snake farm just outside Chiang Mai - really seeing the culture! I was prepared to see less than a dozen snakes, some dead, and most in a poor condition, presented in inadequate housing, and with no signs in English. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this wasn't correct; none of the snakes were dead.

The highlight of this trip was undoubtedly the 'show' that was presented 4 times a day. With hints of influence from the shows you may see in similar sites in America, it featured death defying acts, moments of shock and outbursts of laughter - and that was just from the Japanese tourists. Perhaps the funniest aspect of the presentation was the continuous commentary over a backdrop of an instrumental version of 'The Final Countdown' by Europe. It's probably fair to say that the commentator gained this highly regarded position as he knew the most English and not because of his vocal dexterity. This knowledge of English however, was still very limited and forced our entertainer to just repeat the same things over and over again. This is something like how it went:

"King Cobra
He, Thailand, No.1, most dangerous snake.
I no lie to you.
No.1 most dangerous snake.
But, do not worry
He will not hurt you"

This was broken up with warnings to the snake charmer / dancer, interspersed with questions about the act:

"Be careful my friend.
Oh, what is he doing now?"

In fairness, the whole act was very funny, not soley for the reasons intended, but for the way it was presented and for the reactions of the Japanese tourists to a piece of rope being thrown in their direction. It was like watching a Godzilla movie with people screaming and running in all directions... awesome!

The finale of this show was the opportunity to touch the King Cobra ("No. 1, most dangerous snake in Thailand") and to wear a python as a scarf and give the little fella a kiss. Both of these acts were supposed to bring good luck. I'll let you know how it works out for me.

We were supposed to head over to a temple which overlooks the city after this, but our taxi driver spoke less words than the snake dancers and took us back into the city centre. Never to be downhearted we checked out options and went straight to a Muay Thai Kickboxing class. Our trainer was a fighter who had now retired and devoted his time to passing on his expert knowledge. He also seemed to enjoy making the tourists who came to his class suffer immensely with more skipping than a hyperactive kangaroo. Nevertheless, the class was rewarding and I learned some new techniques in kneeing someones head in. The trainer even bestowed on me the name "Nuk Soo Kao". I may have the spelling wrong on here but some of you may know what this means ;)

With our time in Thailand drawing to a close, it felt like time to sample an infamous Thai massage - a legit one, not one from a nightclub in Pa Pong. There are more massage parlours than restaurants in Thailand so it wasn't hard to find one. They wash your feet, give you some loose clothes to change into, lay you on a hard mattress, and then proceed to stretch and press on your body in every possible location. At one point, she was pulling my legs behind my back in what I can only assume was an attempt at a submission hold (similar to the Boston crab). I'm not totally sure who was getting more out of this massage but I suspect the satisfaction of beating me up was more than the feeling of receiving the beating.

The 3 Kings monument in Chiang Mai:

After nearly a week in Chiang Mai and it was now time to move on. A total of around 7 hours of buses then took us to the border town of Chiang Khong where we could sort out the necessary Visa and transport ticket to cross into Laos.

My Chiang Mai - 16th to 18th November

The carrot driving us north through Thailand was always the prospect of reaching the city of Chiang Mai. It is generally a cool place, in both it's temperature and temperament, and is probably best compared to New Zealand's famous Lake Taupo for the amount of activities on offer. It is the base camp for a wide variety of treks into the surrounding hills, mountain biking, rock climbing, abseiling, elephant back riding, white-water rafting, caving, etc., and also offers introductory courses in the Holy Trinity of traditional Thai skills - cooking, massage techniques, & Muay Thai kickboxing. Draw your own conclusions as to the degree of threat that someone who had completed these courses could pose - depending on which ones they picked up with ease, and those which they failed at, could potentially result in a formidable destroyer of stomachs, backs, and boxes.

Chiang Mai is comprised of two distinct areas: the Old City, a square shaped heart surrounded by moats and remnants of a wall raised 700 years ago to protect against Burmese invaders; and the new city, a web of major roads and the river that protects the Old City from the surrounding countryside. Following the advice of our bible, the Lonely Plant, we are staying at a comfortable guesthouse called 'Your House'. It is located a short walk from Th Moon Muang, which could aptly be described as the central point for people of our travelling disposition. We were lucky enough to arrive at Chiang Mai in the midst of their 'Yee Peng' festival, and join in with their celebrations. I am unsure whether one aspect of this is exclusive to Thailand, but it has been one of the most breathtaking sights I have experienced since arriving here. Anyone who has seen the film 'The Beach' may remember a scene where the three newcomers to the island releashed hot air balloon lanterns into the night sky.

The amazing thing about these 'Kom Loy' is that they are released from all around the area during this festival. The sky appears as though hundreds of stars are floating up from their confines on Earth to break through the atmosphere and take their places in the heavens. For miles around, in every direction you look, you can see this event happening for each and every evening between the 11th & 17th November. It is an event that would be solely worth visiting Thailand for at this time of the year and one which will be carved into my memory for many years.

According to perhaps the greatest philosopher of the 20th century, Mr. Miyagi, you must have balance in all areas of your life, so our next venture would once again break away from traditional culture and get a taste of something western. He also taught the importance of breathing which proved fundamental in the game of golf we enjoyed at a resort to the north of the city. Anyone who has played golf will know that, for the majority it is an extremely infuriating past-time, but the satisfaction is provided by a single perfect strike of the ball. This ratio has been proven time and time again whilst playing on courses in England, but for some reason the "I HATE GOLF!!" utterance occurred far less frequently whilst in the beautiful landscape of north Thailand.

Our next day would make far better use of the limited time we intended to stay in Chiang Mai by ticking off three activities in one day. The first was a ride through the jungle courtesy of some local elephants. I have always been fond of elephants and never before seen one up close, so was in a perpetual state of disbelief when I found myself sitting astride the neck of one and manning the driving controls.

The next event was a short trek to a waterfall which although may appear impressive to many of it's visitors, looked like one that we wouldn't have looked twice at when in Nepal. An obvious example of relativity.


The final event for the day would be an introduction to white-water rafting. I was assembled with a crack team of professionals with all minds set on the dangers ahead and the preparations vital to our survival (see picture above). Our trusty organisers must have felt very confident in our abilities as they neglected to provide more than 10 seconds of pre-water training. In retrospect, this may have also been attributed to the lack of 'white' water we would actually encounter for the majority of the trip. Still, it was all good fun and a taster for what we may expect when we get to New Zealand.

Capital loss - 12th to 15th November

With Bangkok proving tarnished by the modern hand of westernisation, we decided to head north and go ol' skool to Ayuthaya, the capital of Thailand between 1350 & 1767. This ancient city is located on an island where the three rivers, Mae Nam Lopburi, Chao Phraya and Pa Sek, all converge in their race to reach the Gulf of Thailand.

It's location proved an ideal natural barrier to invasion and a magnet for trade which secured it's success for nearly 400 years. Unfortunately, as with any successful venture, someone else will inevitably want a piece of the proverbial pie, and do what they can to take it. In this case, it took the Burmese two persistent years of war to gain control and drive the Thais south to Thonburi and subsequently establish the nearby, Bangkok, as their capital.

The Burmese pretty much F.U.B.A.R.ed everything they could, but much restoration and creative use of cement has ensured that many of the ancient ruins look like they originally did.... sort of. The main thing which we liked about this place was simply hiring some bikes and cycling around the city. As a true player of the playstation generation, I couldn't help but think I was the latest character in the GTA series when cycling about the place. Thankfully my feelings were not confirmed by reality and I was not forced to buy weapons, rid my hood of crack dealers, or dodge bullets from the local hood rats. Instead, we saw a glimpse of a more relaxed and untouched Thailand and met some locals that weren't just out to rid us of our hard earned travelling money. Still, knowing that it's often best to leave a place when things are going good, we didn't stay beyond our welcome and moved on the next day to Sukhothai.

Our destination proved to be a further trip back into the country's capital past as this was the 'main place' before Ayuthaya got a look in. Along with Ayuthaya and Phuket, it is also one of the 3 main cities for the Loy Krathong festival, which takes place to mark the end of the monsoon season and the full moon. We'd been told that this is tremendous celebration of joy in Thailand where the nation pays homage to the water god by sending a tribute loaded with money into the nearest available space of water. For us, this space of water was an area, which I can only describe as a concrete pond located in the 'old city' or historical park of Sukhothai. What the locals don't tell you about these beautiful offerings to the water god, is that the local kids, in all the religious awe, simply look out for the ones with money on , and do their damndest to usurp the riches for themselves. Once again, our perceptions of the enlightened people were quashed by the acts of the capitalist activists.

I will say however, that this beautiful and ancient city has provided a glimour of hope for a relaxing an enjoyable time in the rest of Thailand. This hope was not a moment of enlightenment experienced under a tree, or the results of a local whiskey containing amphetimines, but took the form of a swimming pool. This afternoon, I did nothing but float about a pool, sweat, get wet, dry, sweat, get wet and dry again, and it was wonderful. From now on, I want to find the nearest swimming pool or beach in every stop and take a brek from the 'culture' for a while.


Note: 'FUBAR' is a reference to a classic 80s film, and basically means that they wrecked the place.

Bangkok Impressions - 8th to 11th Nov.

In Nepal, we were advised that the safe play for the course was to eat the local dish 'Dal Bhat'; it was always prepared fresh. and logically speaking, the locals weren't going to poison themselves. 'Dal' means a lentil broth and 'bhat' is plain rice. This was served with pickled veg., a curry and when blessed by Buddha, a poddadom as well. In playing safe, I managed to consume (including 2nds) around 28 servings of Dal Bhat during the 3 week say in Nepal. After this extensive training period, I felt my stomach was ready to tackle anything so in true traveller style, I decided to go away from the tourist area for our last night and sample some genuine Newari (one of the many casts of Nepal) cuisine at 'Newa Bhanchha' restaurant and bar. The food was described as including the parts of the animals which most other dishes leave out. Fearing that we were missing out on the 'creme de la creme' we sampled a mixed starter (no full identification can be provided), and just before our main course, we dined on fried buffalo brain. The 'meat' was soft and lacking any strong flavour but ultimately nice and I would recommend it to anyone. You may ask why I am starting a post in Bangkok about my dining habits in Nepal. Well, the answer is simple. Considering what I had eaten in Nepal, I felt I would be pretty safe enjoying a traditional 'Thai Green Curry' on my first night in Bangkok. Unfortunately, my stomach disagreed with me and forced my into a religious situation first thing the next morning when I pointed towards porcelain and prayed for salvation.

First impressions count and mine wasn't great of Bangkok. Not just because I was quickly becoming an International Man of Dysentry, but from the culture shock of this place. People had talked about it before hand and I've heard many talking about it since being here. However, the shock for me wasn't that is was so different, but that it was so similar to the western world. The roads are full of American cars, and Th Kao San road has more western faces on it that Oxford Street. I felt let down. This wasn't travelling. This was a Magaluf set in SE Asia where a load of Western people came to get pissed cheap. True, we are staying in backpacker central but I expected something completely different from this. I hope that things change drastically from this as we get away from Bangkok.

One other annoying point is that despite 85% of the population claiming to be Buddhist, I see absolutely no evidence of them following the ideals of living a good life as set out by the fat man himself. Every local that we have enountered who can speak English, has acted helpful and then attempted to persuade us to come with him to a 'great deal' of some description - usually a gem, suit, etc., scam where they take you somewhere in the city to make you pay for something you don't want. The taxi and tuk tuk drivers constantly hassle you at any given opportunity. I mean 'come on!, if i wanted a damn taxi, I would call you. Leave me alone before you experience the flying fist of Juddah!!'

Today I broke free of my porcelain handcuffs and ventured out into the city to explore. I went to the zoo and saw a wonderful array of...... yeah, awesome. A black bear which was obvious captured due to it being inept, a couple of giraffes, a few zebras, and a group of Meer cats. Most other sections were closed or not worth mentioning. Next!


We also checked out the famous 'Reclining Buddha' or Wat Phra Chetuphon as it's known to the Thais. It is a breathtaking gold plated statue, 46 metres long and 15 metres high. I felt the same sensation as when standing in the greatness of Vatigan city in Rome - what an absolute waste of money that could have been spent on healing the sick, education, or helping the poor. The fact that so much money is spent around the world on relgious symbolism rather than putting it towards good things is a paradox beyond my comprehension.

To finalise this momentous day of enlightnment, we avoided contributing to both rush hour traffic and air pollution on our journey home, by jumping on a river taxi with the locals. This was the first time since arriving in Bangkok that I felt I was doing something a little different and has made me feel like giving the place another chance.

The End of Nepal - 6th to 8th Nov.

After nearly 3 weeks of having our days planned out and a wake-up call provided every morning, we spent our remaining time in Nepal by simply relaxing, checking out a few of the sites around Kathmandu and reflecting on those which we had seen on our trek.

We visited the Durbar Square of Kathmandu, and were shown around the palace museum by a charismatic local, that was nick-named 'Mike' because he was convinced he looked like Michael Jackson. Most of the area was built between the 12th & 15th centuries and it comprises of many historis temples, palaces, and statues of religious significance.

We checked out the Durbar Square of Bhaktapur ('City of Devotees') which is renowned for it elegant art, fabulous culture, traditional festivals, traditional dances and the typical Newar lifestyle. E. A. Powell once decribed this area in his book "The Last Home of Mystery" - "Were there nothing else in Nepal, save the Durbar Square of Bhaktapur, it would still be amply worth making the journey halfway around the globe to see."

We thought about the festivals we had attended, the animals we had encountered,

and the mountain sunrises we had seen.


Nepal has proved a perfect location for our travels and I'm sure I will return later on in my life. As with when you are doing anything you enjoy in life, the time has gone extremely quickly and I feel we have only brushed the surface of what the country has to offer. Whether or not the development of Nepal will destroy much of it's purity in turning it into yet another westernised tourist location, will remain to be seen. It is a very poor country with a very proud nation and has a spectacular backdrop to nearly every view.

Om mane peme ho

Annapurna Circuit - Part Two.

Part Two.

Pisang to Manang - 26th Oct. & 27th Oct.

Our days were getting increasingly colder and the path was becoming decreasingly distinguishable. We were avoiding ice in the morning and stepping over puddles in the afternoon. The level of attention required and addedd joy of wet feet made for poor spirits all round and a new level of tension among the group. Thankfully this was dispelled by the high level of accommodation and facilities at the town of Manang. Although, Manang is situated at over 3,500m, it is extremely well serviced by an adjoining airstrip. Our lodge was a 3-storey hotel and the menu had more choices than all the preceeding menus to date.

Our spirits were also lifted by the first positive rumours in days regarding the conditions at the pass. It seemed as though the pass had been reopened and the first trekkers had completed the journey. The descending path on the other side was described with extreme caution but the important thing was that the path itself was open.

The main goal of each day at the moment, was to increase our altitude by 500 m. Any more than this and we were in danger of suffering altitude sickness, and any less than this, we wouldn’t have enough time to complete the trek. We usually set out before sunrise to avoid the heat and were finished by early afternoon each day. This left time to relax and reflect on the distance we has already covered and take in the amazing views which greeted you in every direction.

Manang to Yak Kharka – 28th Oct.

There are many normal symptoms of being at high altitude – difficulty in breathing, increased hunger, tiredness, vivid dreams etc.. Considering the lucidity of my dreams at sea-level, it was not much of a surprise that my dreams at this altitude were ‘original’ to say the least. Our new destination of Yak Kharka was at an altitude of 4,100m, so I expected the dreams to get even weirder and the subsequent visions of celebrity beatings to get even more surreal – Wesley Snipes had suffered my wrath the previous night – ‘ave it!!

Yak Kharka to High Camp

We ascended around 700 m today to a grand total of 4,800m. Although this was more than the ideal 500 m a day, it would mean that we’d have 300m less to cover tomorrow and shave 1.5 hr off the day’s trekking. We’d obviously decided that it was worth ignoring the 500m a day restriction in order to save effort the next day.

We set off before sunrise again and the cold wind cut through me as if I was paper. My fingers and toes ached they were so cold, and there was nothing I could do except keep moving and wait for the sun to rise. The altitude made breathing even harder and tiredness was so strong that the snow surrounding the path looked increasingly like a mattress welcoming me to lay my body and sleep.

The sight of sunlight on the path ahead beckoned our advance and once within it’s grasp, our temperatures must have increased by 20 degree within a matter of mins. It seems that today would not be without complications though; the unadulterated sunlight of the past few days had melted a lot of the snow at this point and caused various landslides. Patches of the path were covered in debris and certain sections were still susceptible to additional falling rocks. I made my way along one section that was no more than 2 ft wide, whilst watching up the slope for potentially decapitating projectiles. Half way across, a rock the size of a grapefruit began bouncing wildly down the slope towards me. I made to duck but kept my eyes fixed on the rock. It bounced about 10ft above me and ricocheted to the right, passing me by less than a few feet. Immediately, I checked the slope above for further rocks and then continued along the path.

The section complimenting this was a sheer slope taking us up another 300m. It was the hardest section so far and the intensity forced us to stop every few steps to catch our breaths. The sun was so intolerably strong that it felt as though my head was cooking. I attempted to cover my hair in snow to reflect the heat but this proved about as effective as fighting a lion with colourful language. My internal temperature controls were fried and my body switched from convulsing cold to boiling hot every few minutes. One of the guides advised me that because my headache was at the front of my brain it was not anything to worry about. I appreciate that in retrospect, this was exactly what I needed to here, but at the time it was as comforting as a kick to the testicles. I drank plenty of water, stayed out of the sun and when all else failed, popped a good ol’ neurofen and attempted to sleep. The neurofen held the pain at bay for a few hours but it was the homoeopathic cocaine (Coca), I was taking which seemed to make the most amount of difference. I had been taking it every time I felt slightly ‘off’ when over 3,000m, and it had reliably sorted me out each time. Unfortunately, even with this assitance, I only managed to get around 3 hours kip – sleep disturbance was another joyful symptom of being at a high altitude.

High Camp to Thorong La pass to Muktinath – 30th Oct.

Today was the pinacle of our trek. To reach the high point at Thorong La was the sole reason that many trekkers complete the Annapurna circuit and it’s altitude is 500 m higher than the Everest Base Camp in Nepal. It is an achievement in the trekking world to go over 5,000m and 10% of people attempting this section are unable to complete it. Preparation is vital, and health is a fundamental necessity. With this in mind, we left our lodge at 4:30am and I started our ascent after only a few hours sleep and with a sprained ankle. Without sunlight, we were guided by head-torches along a snow & ice covered path, no more than 1ft in width, that cut cross a slope that would terrify Eddie the Eagle. I must admit that, when you’re walking across a path like this, illuminated by a only a few L.E.D.s, you’ve had only a glimpse of sleep, a bowl of diluted porridge for brekkie, and your ankle feels as stable as a third world economy, you don’t feel entirely confident that you’ll make it to lunch.

The tiredness was overwealming. During the marathon, I switched off, went into autopilot, and thought about anything else to distract from the pain. This however, was at a time when I had the luxury of being able to breathe normally. Above 5,000m, I felt like a 90 year old asthmatic trying to do 10 rounds with Amir Khan. I stopped every few yards to take deep breaths and my boots were beginning to feel like concrete. Despite the fact, I was obviously enjoying this so much, we decided to move as quickly as possible and reached the pass in under 2 hours – a normal time for this section would be around 3 hours, and that is when there is no snow.


Static line parachutists jump from 3,000ft. Sky divers jump from around 15,o00 ft. Planes cruise at just over 30,000ft. Today, I jumped off a rock from over 16,000ft. OK, the freefall was only for about a 10th of a second as the rock was only an extra foot from the ground, but wow, what a rush! Some people snort for it, others jab a vein, and all you have to do is jump. Maybe, I’ll experience a slightly longer freefall some other time on my travels.

After mucho congratulations all round, we started the 2,000m descent to Muktinath. The path was equally as steep as the other side and even more icey in places. After falling on my arse a half dozen times, I decided to give into gravity, pulled my jacket tight, and used my weight to carve a toboggen run down the path that was worthy of the Winter Olympics. The other members of the group followed my lead (this may not have been a conscious decision, but more a case of succumbing to the even slippier path that I had just created) and we slid down the mountain in record time. I’m sure our laugher could be heard throughout the region.

Muktinath to Marpha to Ghasa – 31st Oct. to 1st Nov.

With the pass completed, we knew that the rest of the trek was in effect, the journey home. I looked at the mountains with the sorrow of saying goodbye for the last time, and kept to my thoughts for most of the day. After the sections we had completed over the last few days, we now understood the meaning of Nepalese flat and cruised through the day’s trekking with ease. As with the journey into the mountains on the east side, we were following the course of a river and for the majority were walking in dry sections of the river basin. The views here was vastly different to the other side and looked much more like the arid conditions which I had expected from Nepal. After a few more hours of walking and a continous drop in altitude, the desert was replaced once again by the dominatination of coniferous trees on the slopes and marujana lining the path.

Our guides had been talking during the day about cooking us some chicken tonight. As many of the settlements we had stayed at were so isolated, we had avoided most meats during the past couple of weeks, as you could never be sure how fresh something was. Well, tonight we knew the chicken was killed fresh, as we watched the guides slit it’s throat, drain it’s blood, submerge it’s thrashing body into boiling water, pluck it, and chop it up into chunks, all from the convenience of the lodge garden. I’d like to say that I enjoyed this meal that was so lovingly prepared, but as with many countries, they don’t waste any of the carcass in Nepal. Everything went into the curry, and dinner became more of a guessing game as to the origin of the chunks we were given. Stil, the sauce and rice were good.


Ghasa to Tatopani 2nd Nov.

The destination today had a special benefit. It was one that we had been looking forward to since the first time we realised that the combination of our daily exertion and no showering was making us appeal to the skunk population. Tatopani is the glorious location of some natural hot springs and not so natural baths created to harvest them. One bath was soley the water out of the mountain and one was mixed with cold water to make it a little more bearable. I stayed in the hot bath for about 20 mins, mixing my time between boiling my insides and lying on a rock in the middle of the pool, and just watching the trees move with the wind above me. For the first time in weeks, I felt completely relaxed and content in my location.


Tatopani to Ghorepani – 3rd Nov.

As with anything in life, balance must come into play, and with the easy couple of days we had just enjoyed, the trek today would be a reminder of the fact we were still walking in the mountains. We covered an ascent of 1,600m up sections of grass slopes and stone steps which were surely designed as a punishment. Someone commented that it was a stairway to heaven but it felt more like a stairway from hell.

This evening, the local Maoists came to the lodge to relieve us of a ‘voluntary donation’ of 1200 rupees for the support of their cause. Despite posessing guns, they were not aggressive in any way and simply saw this payment as the equivalent to what we had to pay the government for the trekking permit – apparently you can claim this money back if they ever get into power. We were provided with receipts for proof of payment and thanked for our assistance. I’d have to say it was the most civilised mugging in the history of the world.


Ghorepanu to Poon Hill to Nayapul to Pokhara - 4th Nov.

Poon Hill is located a short walk from our lodge at Ghorepani and is famous for the spectacular views it offers of the Annapurna range. Once again, we had an early start, and set out to reach Poon Hill and watch the sun rise over the world. The views was breathtaking from the moment the first hint of light was creaping over the horizon, to the moment it’s rays blessed the mountains in front of us.

What goes up, must come down, and the walk from hell yesterday was mirrored by an equally steep descent today. We trekked for about 7 hours to Nayapul, jumped back into civilisation, in the form of a jeep, and then drove to the city of Pokhara. Pokhara is the 2nd largest city in Nepal and is set at the edge of a lake. It’s more spaciously set out than Kathmandu and I would definitely like to return here to investigate it’s offerings with more time in the future.


Pokhara to Kathmandu – 5th November

Our trekking adventure finished with a cramped 8 hour journey back to Kathmandu. It was strange how at home, Kathmandu now felt to us, and we couldn’t stop smiling once we reached our hotel.

I look back at the photos now and can’t believe the sights we enjoyed. As with most experiences in life, it doesn’t seem entirely real, and my memories are nowhere near as sharp as I would like. At times, it was very hard work, boring, and outright annoying, but I loved the experience and will definitely look for further mountains to trek to in the future.