Goodbye, Chiang Mai

I'm back in Macau after a mad dash across Vietnam and Thailand. It was tough to leave Chiang Mai - not only was it a cool place that we were just getting a real feel for, but we had such great hosts in Andy and Hilary. 

On Tuesday we decided to forgo another coach trip and instead headed to the Chiang Mai zoo. It was only a short ride and gave us the easiest way of seeing the elephants that this part of Thailand is famous for. It was a surprisingly well-looked after place. We got to feed, hippos, elephants and Soph even gave a jaguar some meat. As you do. It was also really quiet for a zoo. And it cost about £2 to get in. Yep, that cheap. 

We paid a little extra to see the pandas, which did what pandas generally do and just laid there next to some bamboo. We did get the chance to get one of those terrible, photoshopped pictures where it looks like you're holding the pandas though. Well worth it, results to come soon. 

After the zoo we met Andy, Hilary and Molly and went to their favourite Thai place in town. It was far and away the best food I've had in Thailand. I had one of the local specialities, khoa soi kai; chicken, noodles in a creamy broth and topped with crispy noodles. It was delicious, as were all the extras. It was also home to Soph's favourite Thai dish and, as far as I'm aware, the only good Asian pudding - mango with sticky rice. You can't beat it. 

We then proceeded to do the done tourist thing and spend our remaining baht on crap t-shirts, copious amounts of beer and some elephant trousers that the people of Chesterfield are going to be seeing an awful lot more of. They are more comfortable than falling asleep in a fat girl's cleavage. And that was about that for Chiang Mai. A smashing city and a great end to to two weeks on the road. 

I'm now back in Macau for around a week before England welcomes me back into its own ample bosom. I celebrated this fact by watching the Man U-Everton game on Chinese time aka 4am. I was duly rewarded with a 1-0 win. And after some well-earned rest, I spent today wandering around the Three Lamps district. The Red Market was certainly an eye-opener - eels, fish, prawns all still alive and (not quite) swimming...until one of many butchers was there to carve them up. It was carnage. Also turns out that a bearded white person seems to stand out in that environment. Hello again, China! 

Chiang Mai/Traditional Thai Massage.

For those of you readers who want me to do all the depraved, disgusting, Englishman-in-the-Orient sort of deeds...I had a traditional Thai massage. It was my first full day in Chiang Mai, the wind was in my sails - why not? Except by traditional I am not referring to "sucky sucky 50 baht/you big American G.I/happy ending." I mean the biggest woman I have seen in Thailand, hands like dustbin lids, a chip on her shoulder and a knee dug deep into mine as reward. 

She started on the legs. They feel alright now but at the time I thought that I was going to lose them. She told me to relax, clearly picking up on my anguish. If she had offered me a happy ending, I would have rolled over and bit the pillow. It was that kind of massage. She walked on my back. She performed a crippler cross face that Chris Benoit would have shuddered at. Four times. It was a relaxing massage because at the end of that anything will be relaxing. 

I do feel loose now though. That might be the Chang going down smooth as much as anything. It's also a general effect of being in Chiang Mai, which is bustling but feels like Tideswell on a Tuesday night compared to Bangkok. We are staying with Soph's friend Andy, along with his wife Hilary and daughter Molly. They are all great and it has made a nice change to have someone to show us around a little. We spent Sunday night drinking Chang, ending up in a downbeat, Rasta-themed rooftop bar. Taking off your shoes before you go inside a place for a drink is a novelty but one that definitely adds to the easygoing feel. The small snatchings of Thai food I have sampled have all been great too. 

I headed off into town today on the songthaew; it's a cross between a bus and a taxi, where you hop on with others and try to get as close as you can to your destination. Having negotiated it with Andy with ease, I managed to end up in another part of town. I was saved by a girl sat next to me, who I assumed was about twelve owing to her braces but turned out to be a nurse. She pointed me in the right direction and after a wander I met Ben and Soph. 

We had heard good things about a temple on one of the mountains around the city, so took a taxi to Doi Suthep. At first we thought the driver was ripping us off but for about £4 each, including an entry fee, he took us on a winding ride through the trees and high above Chiang Mai, waited for us while we visited the temple and then met us to drive us back. The temple itself was busy but magnificent. Buddhism as always been that religion that even a staunch Atheist like myself can like a little bit. Sitting barefoot and watching the world go by is all good in my eyes. The views were spectacular as well. 

As for now, I am sat in a German sports bar. Purely to charge my phone, because I'm assuming I will end up overpaying for this Chang. It definitely feels like a relaxing way to end a madcap dash across Vietnam and now Thailand. I see a lot of similarities with the north-west of Thailand and the north-west of the U.S. There is general feeling of calm, the mountains surrounding the city, the backpackers aimlessly lolling around in baggy trousers. I like it. It feels a million miles away from Bangkok; the capital is on lock-down as protests spread and anger builds. And then there are the prostitutes. 

P.s special mention to my Buddist bud Tom from San Francisco who kept the flight here interesting. 

Bangkok.

There is a beautiful park in the centre of Bangkok, about a half hour stroll from my hotel, called Lumpini Parl. There is a lake, fountains, a little outdoor gym. It seems popular with locals, expats and tourists alike. But that is not the whole story, and from what I have seen of this city as a whole, it never really is. Because a few yards from me a rather impressive monitor lizard is stalking on the water's edge. Another is swimming around a turtle, who until he came was having sex with another turtle. Even the turtles cannot help themselves in Bangkok. 

If there is ever a way to rock up to a five-star hotel in the middle of the night, it is via a tuk-tuk, ferrying this dishevelled Englishman - in typically-tourist "Bia Hoi" T-Shirt - and his friends, smelling of noodles and beer. The next morning I headed out with Sophie and found this very park, a time when I was less nonchalant about a giant lizard swimming past me like a mallard would back home. A man stopped and gave me a hand massage in the park, a criminal offence in England, and we ate some Thai food. Cue diarrhea. 

After plenty of wandering I did something I truly regret, something I said that I would never do on holiday. I really am ashamed, but I guess I was caught up in the idea of being in Bangkok. Yes, I went to the gym on holiday. Should be noted as well that my travel buddies are professional athletes - two days later and it still hurts to breathe. 

That night we grabbed food in somewhere that was not on the side of a street. Madness! As a result the service was absolutely abysmal, each of our meals separated by about ten minutes. Give me pho in Vietnam any day of the week. After that the night quickly slipped into what can only be described as depraved. We drank. A lot. I even drank Chang, the drink of (enforced) choice at my beloved Goodison and the sort of tasteless fizz that makes me yearn for something tepid and hoppy. 

But a fair few Changs later and all was forgotten. It certainly helped to enjoy the last few songs of the Thai Beatles set in an Irish bar.  We sat in a strip club that seemed rather tame compared to what I had envisaged. I had a chat with a girl called Mona, who had an ample personality. A street tout followed us around to numerous bars, and we finally went to his bar. It was empty, save for about twenty or more expressionless women, like department store mannekins. We made a hasty exit and went into another place where - in part due to Ben's exclamation - we were cheered on arrival. Never have I felt more popular in all my life. It was only inside that we realised some of the girls were not as feminine as the rest. An interesting Russian roulette. 

After ditching a girl who offered to sleep with me for 2,000 baht (an eye-watering £40), we found another bar and let the tequila do the rest. An eventful taxi home in the very wee hours, with Ben managing to vomit out of the window in transit, summed up the utter debauchery. To add to our entrance on our first night, we got a security guard to take Ben to bed on a luggage rail. Bangkok is definitely a place to gain some emotional baggage. Then again, the numerous white, middle-aged men cavorting with ridiculously flamboyant girls would probably disagree. This truly is the capital of the mid-life crisis. Luckily I had mine years ago. 

Friday nights events made Saturday a bit of a write-off, not helped by my inexplicable use of "condiments" in the Thai cafe the previous lunch time. Eventually we surfaced, before I went as English as possible and went to watch Everton destroy Stoke 4-0 in the Irish bar.  I found a fellow blue from Ireland to watch the game with, and the Chang perked me up. I then went out for a few drinks in another area, more upscale than the previous night. I ended up on a rooftop bar with some ridiculously attractive people. My people. But after waking up on the toilet the previous morning

and having not eaten since an ill-judged pastry binge at a drunken breakfast, I took my leave. 

And that, dear reader, is it for the Thai capital. We are taking a plane to Chiang Mai this afternoon for another three nights. Time is creeping up on my return to English shores. And I can say with some pride, tinged with a little disappointment, that the only souvenirs I will be leaving Bangkok with are a couple of Chang vests and a sore head. A monitor lizard might slip through customs though...

Leaving HCMC/BKK.

Thursday, and in two weeks I will be back in England. I will probably be greeted by rain in Manchester, but in HCMC it is really raining. A great wall of it that shook the Museum of War Remnants, though I was already pretty shaken. A friend of Sophie's had told us to leave this place until our last day, so that we didn't slump too much. It was hard not to. 

The museum was originally given the more entertaining title of 'The Museum of Chinese and American War Crimes,' and it tells the story of the American invasion (and to a lesser extent the earlier war with the French) in gruesome detail. There are no effects. No interactivity. No buttons to press, no levers to pull. Just photographs. Some I had seen before: the famous shot of the girl stumbling away from a napalm blast, GI's posing with corpses. But I have never seen the photos of the victims of Agent Orange. So many deformities. Worse was the strange tourist next to me taking a picture of a child born limbless. I called him a twat and he walked off in apparent surrender. Probably French. 

The museum was incredibly interesting but troubling. Also troubling was the kid who tried to steal my phone before I went in, attempting to repair my shoes whilst I was sat down. It's reassuring to meet a few local characters. He said he was hungry, so I offered him my sandwich and  he said no but wanted money. My conscience is clear. 

What was clear was that after a sobering experience such as seeing mutilated bodies and incomprehensible skin conditions, some relaxation and reflection was required. We went on a mini-beer crawl. Sophie is a big fan of Hard Rock Cafe (been there, done that, got a hundred t-shirts), so it was here in HCMC that I lost my Hard Rock virginity. What a truly terrible idea for a place. Then again the staff were lovely and sorted us loud airport taxi so I'm not complaining. Kinda. 

I'm writing this in the air on the way to Bangkok, and we land in a country where a civil uprising is apparently imminent. I wasn't that excited for this part of Thailand. When the best beer in a country is Chang and where the lobster-skinned Englishman roams free, how could I be? But now that there is a little bit of politics in the mix, we've got a good old-fashioned high brow holiday. Hopefully. I'm only in Bangkok for three short nights before a flight to Chiang Mai in the north. And before I know it I'm back in Macau, then Manchester. Talk about quick turnarounds. I'll blog again when I have some Thai stories. Who knows I might end up as the next president?

Ho Chi Minh City.

This city is a step up. Hanoi was bustling, full of life on every corner, scooters and people jostling for your attention. But Ho Chi Minh is a bigger, bolder, brasher version of the north's big city. The temperature is a good few degrees higher, the buildings are taller and although there is more space, there is more to fill it with. It is relentless. 

On our first night - following a surprisingly uneventful flight - we headed in the direction of the main bars. There were certainly some sights. There is no worse introduction to a place than an Essex-boy promoter accosting you and saying that "the top two DJs in Vietnam" are in his bar (I'm the third best, for the record). We did find draught beer for 7,000 dong though. That's 20p to you untravelled brutes. A boy with elephantitis was paraded along while we sat for a drink, his head swollen to a size I didn't think possible, besides John Barnes. It was troubling. I don't know whether he was being used or cared for by the man who carried him, but he was soon away into the night. 

I also got felt up by a prostitute again and yes, she was old and ugly. We noticed a lot more people selling items and begging. One man tried to sell us lighters. We said no and then he simply said "ecstasy?" A bar man with a mullet offered me opium. I felt like Coleridge. Wearing my beard like an albatross around my neck. It was all a fair introduction to the frenetic pace of life in this "liberated" city. 

On Tuesday I wandered around the local market - a sprawling affair full of smells I did not recognise. That is a familiar occurrence here. I bartered for an iPhone charger (as my forefathers did before me) and then met Ben and Sophie. We ended up at the top of the Saigon tower, drinking Chimay and watching the hive of activity below. This is a big city, make no mistake about it. We went for coffee, crepes and ice-cream at a French place, cos it was one of those days, and then me and Sophie found a very cool Belgian beer bar. It was nice to give my taste buds some of the good stuff before hitting the ba ba ba and stuffed pancakes in the evening. 

Thursday morning meant a trip to Cu Chi Tunnels, a big tourist attraction where the Vietcong fought and lived deep below the surface. Compared to the terrible logistics of a Halong Bay, it was actually a really good tour. Those Vietcong were crafty beggars. Tim O'Brien's novels were at the forefront of my mind when we saw various boobie-traps (always loved that term) and saw their means of evasion. I loved the idea of cooking at 5am and having a pipe to redirect the smoke, to disguise it with the fog. Or the sandals made from tyres to make it seem as though troops had walked in the opposite way, by the width of the sole. 

Worth mentioning was our toilet break on the way to the tunnels, where we were taken to what amounted to a sweat shop for disabled people. I have seen other tourist stops like this, such as near Halong, but the difference here was that Agent Orange was used as an excuse. It was a weird place to stop, but luckily some Asian women on our trip spent as much time there as possible to make us feel incredibly awkward. On the plus side, another tour guide at the stop looked like an Asian Jack Sparrow (see Instagram adammcculloch23). 

I managed to meet some more English people on the bus; a girl travelling alone seemed cool but is there anything worse when you're away than a male lifeguard from Eastbourne saying "what happens in Vietnam, stays in Vietnam"? I apologise unreservedly to citizens of the world who think that all English people have the personality of a flannel soaked in warm Carling. 

Nowhere was this more apparent than when we bumped into them again at Independence Palace. From his and his balding, tribal-tattooed comrade it should have been a tedious experience. For 87p we got a guided tour of this bizarre former HQ of the Republican government. I heard one Aussie tourist describe it, accurately it must be said, as like something out of a Bond film. With the helicopter on the roof and the underground war rooms, it certainly could have been. A good find. 

In the evening we headed to a Vietnamese BBQ spot. You can't really going wrong with beer and meat that you sear yourself at the table. Then it was onto a rooftop bar, some Vietnamese jazz (surprisingly good singer) and some more German/Belgian beer. Just as I was saying that there are not many places in the world, especially London, where you could enjoy a Chimay in such elegant surrounds, a cockroach crawled behind Sophie. Cue hysterics. It was quite an apt moment for a city such as this. Behind the luxury, above the droves of people and swarm of scooters, this city can still surprise, shock, remind you of its unremitting vibrancy. There is never a quiet moment.

And now to Bangkok. If it wasn't mad enough, there is talk of revolution in the air...

That Da Nang Thang.

We left Hanoi after a morning coffee (or caphe). I love the stuff here, it's so strong and bitter and tastes great on its own. The Vietnamese then add condensed milk to it and it is perfect. I never normally have milk in my coffee but it works so well over here. 

After buying a couple of obligatory Bia Hoi t-shirts we jumped into our taxi to the airport. It had already been a bit confusing, with two different times listed for our flight. We had been driving for about five minutes when a group of policeman waved us over from the side of the road. Other vehicles were being stopped. Our driver looked like he was going to shit himself. A cop saluted him and what followed was over half an hour of suspense as he moved between the axe and the cops, his head in his hands, speaking no English whatsoever. I think I developed at least one stomach ulcer as I nearly managed to miss yet another flight in Vietnam. 

We cut it fine but made our flight on time and before we knew it we had entered Da Nang. It seemed so much more open than the congested streets of Hanoi. The place where we are staying is right on the beach. There are some signs of the recent typhoon along the shore, and I found a dead pig by the sea in an isolated area. It reminded me of when I am brining a pork shoulder. 

Walking around Da Nang I sensed less of a tourist atmosphere and more of a working city. The fact that it was a Sunday obviously had an effect because it turns out that there is a large Catholic population, and they were all pulling their bikes and scooters in to mass. I had a nice bowl of noodles, peanut-coated chicken and salad, with a beer, for £1, including a 10% tip. Talk about value. There were few real sites to see but I wandered through an indoor market that was so full of different smells - ginger, incense and what seemed to be rotting meat - that I nearly passed out. 

Everyone was very friendly here. People said hello to me in the street and asked me where I was from, not to sell me anything but out of curiosity. Some kids seemed to find my shorts funny (for the record they are tie-dye and too short). I left my sunglasses in a coffee shop (where I annoyingly found a posh English couple trying to speak Vietnamese and playing that stupid logo game on their phone) and when I realised my mistake, the girl behind the counter had them ready for me. Honest town. Though she could probably tell they were fake. 

I am off for a quick visit to Hoi An now, a town that is a Unesco World Heritage site in its own right. I'll let you know how the bia goes down further down the coast, and hopefully my next plane down to Saigon tomorrow is an easier ride than the last two!

  

Boat/Hanoi

I woke up at 6 hoping for a sunset but the weather was still poor. It was good to feel some sea-air that early in the morning though. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long to be disturbed by the staff for breakfast and the news that an engine had broke so we couldn't go to the beach. So far, so good. We managed to find a small boat to pull up and take us to some caves I know nothing about because a) our guide was tight and didn't want to pay to get in and b) it was full of a heady cocktail of French, Chinese and Australian tourists. It was fun consistently ruining their poorly-lit photos by walking non the background though. 

It had all got a bit confusing, as different groups from the previous night on board had been shipped off on excursions, so when we arrived back on board there was only us and the German couple. We had a decent meal of fish, pork and rice, after the bartender had awkwardly tried to sell us pearls. Apparently genuine pearls can be tested by rubbing them together until a dust comes off. Definitely looking that up. 

And then we were finally off the Albatross. It was a good laugh and there's always the novelty of being at sea but it was good to be back on dry land. Except now I'm on the tiniest/slowest bus imaginable, hunched up like a dog waiting to be cooked. I'm looking forward to being back in Hanoi where I can drink beer, avoid motorbikes and get accosted by prostitutes in peace. 

                              * * *

Back in Hanoi it was soon back to the good stuff. We are a Vietnamese version of a pizza - rice paper grilled with meat, egg and vegetables. It was a pretty local place so when Robbo and Ben knocked their beers over in quick succession it was pretty funny. We stopped off in Boob for a goodbye beer. I'll never forget the way he made "peanuts" sound like "penis". We then had a wander around the city, and finally had the pho we had been craving. It was incredible. Silly noodles, a wonderful broth, coriander and fresh chilli with beef as well. It was worth the wait. 

Even better was our trip to some more of the Bia Hoi bars, where we were supping a tast microbrew for just over 40p a pint. I need to get that recipe. We stumbled home ready for another city, another adventure, and another panic-stricken airport escapade. But more on that later.