A walking tour around Hanoi's old quarter

I booked the only flight I could find for under $50 to Bangkok, which leaves on the 2nd of June. In the meantime I have a few more days in Hanoi, the first of which I decided to fill by taking my feet on a walking tour of the city's old quarter (courtesy of Lonely Planet). I started by crossing the red painted bridge to an island in the northern part of Hoan Kiem Lake, which is home to Ngoc Son Temple (admission 3000VND). Due to the admission fee being waived for locals, many Vietnamese chose to relax here under the peaceful shade of the trees.

When I visited, there were more tourists (mainly Asian) taking each others photographs in front of a giant tortoise than there were looking around the temple. To explain the presence of a giant tortoise here, i'll firstly have to tell you the story behind the name of the lake. Legend has it that in the 15th century, heaven gave Emporer Ly Thai To a magical sword which he used to drive the Chinese out of Vietnam. Once the war had ended, the emporer was out in his boat one day upon the lake, when he noticed a giant golden tortoise swimming on the surface of the water. The tortoise snatched the sword and subsequently disappeared into the lake. Ho Hoan Kiem means 'lake of the restored sword', as people believe that the tortoise restored the sword to its divine owner. There have since been actual sightings of tortoises in this lake, the remains of one such tortoise (which died in 1968, weighed 250kg and measured 2.10m in length!) are preserved and on show at Ngoc Son Temple. I guess the locals believe that this tortoise is one of the desendants of the great golden tortoise . . .

I continued my tour past the shoe district and through Hanoi's colourful (and smelly!) market. It seems that Hanoi's old quarter is full of 'districts' : around the market are numerous shops selling shoes of every colour and variety, and there is also a jewellery district, a district where artisans carve gravestones bearing an image of the deseased, a line of shops selling straw mats and ropes, a row of herb sellers (the carcophony of various aromas fills the air even before you reach the shops themselves), tin box makers and a collection of blacksmiths on the corner of Pho Lo Ren and Phop Thuoc Bac. There is also an entire street selling 'ghost money', which is used for burning in Buddhist ceremonies. I saw an example of this when I was in Laos. I was walking through Savannaket's peaceful and almost deserted streets just after a funeral prosession had passed, and I noticed $100 bills scattered all over the road.

Cua O Quan Chuong, the quarter's well preserved East Gate, is situated just before the turning into the street where all the 'ghost money' is sold. I was just about to photograph the gate when a lady in a conical hat transporting bananas 'Vietnamese style' (in two bamboo baskets suspended from the ends of a long wooden pole which rested on her shoulders) walked into my shot. She made an interesting photograph out of what would otherwise have been a fairly ordinary shot of Hanoi's East Gate.

I continued on to the neo-gothic St Joseph Cathedral where a collection of children were playing football outside, and that game where you kick an object resembling a shuttle-cock between players, not allowing it to fall to the ground. It's a sight you'll see everywhere in Vietnam, on the roads and the pavements and in the parks, and it's a game which requires a great deal of skill. I couldn't get into the cathedral - apparently the gates are only opened when mass is held - so I sat in a little street cafe opposite drinking coffee and watching the football and shuttlecock matches.

Evenings aren't as much fun when you're travelling alone so I wandered over to the Little Hanoi (1) Restaurant for a meal (not to be confused with the seriously overpriced Little Hanoi (2), a block away from the lake) and then took advantage of the free internet facility at my hostel by sending several well overdue emails to my friends.

Photos

Ngoc Son Temple

Typical Hanoi street scene

A rainy boat ride to the Perfume Pagoda

We pulled into Hanoi station at 5:15am and I was surprised to discover that the sun had already risen and as usual, Vietnam was alive with activity at a time when most people in England would still be in bed. We spent the day watching the T'ai Chi and aerobics groups, joggers and badmington players down by the lake, drinking inumerable cups of coffee, continually bumping into Colm and Rory, wandering around the shops, and abusing the free internet facility offered to us by our hotel.

I moved around the corner to the grottier (but cheaper) Tam Thuong Guesthouse and Sam moved to Laos - well, on to the bus that would eventually take her to Laos. So, after travelling around in a group of 7 a couple of weeks ago, I am now solo once again, a feeling I haven't properly experienced since leaving Laos (with the exception of a couple of days in Mui Ne)

The tour I wanted to book to The Perfume Pagoda, 60km outside Hanoi wasn't running on a sunday (?!) so I spent the day soaking up the sights of life in the northern capital :

• I was eating breakfast at The Whole Earth Restaurant and watched an old lady hanging out newspapers on her balcony at the apartment across the road. Yes, you haven't read this wrong : she had a washing line strung across the balcony but instead of hanging laundry on there to dry, as most people do, she was hanging out old newspapers!
• A little boy 'watering the streets'. Nothing subtle about it at all : he was standing on the pavement, holding his little banana and peeing out into the street, causing cyclists to swerve out of the way of his firing range!
• A old lady carrying watermelons in two large bamboo baskets suspended from the end of a long wooden pole, which rested upon her shoulders. Nothing remarkable about this as you see women carrying foods like this everywhere in Asia, but what was amazing was the quantity she was carrying : if you consider how much your average watermelon weighs. she had about 15 or 20 of them piled up in each basket!

The next morning I set off to The Perfume Pagoda, a complex of pagodas and Buddhist shrines built into the limestone cliffs of Huong Tich mountain. When we arrived at our destination after a 2 and a half hour bus journey, rain was falling heavily from the sky, leaving ripples in the murky river water. Having left my umbrella at the Mountain View Hotel in Sapa (it's probably still drying under the sink in reception), it was time to get back into that very fetching plastic rain mac (they must make a packet selling them at 4000VND each)

I sat in a little paddleboat, along with 2 German girls (Liza and Nicole) and their mother, as we were transported downstream along scenic waterways between limestone cliffs. As a result of the persistent rain, a heavy mist was obscuring what would otherwise have been a spectacular view. Numerous other paddleboats were plying the river, most of them full of locals and containing huge piles of rice plants that had just been harvested. A few ducks were splashing around in the reeds at the rivers edge, and numerous colourful dragonflies were buzzing around just above the surface of the water.

When we arrived at the entrance to the Perfume Pagoda, the rain had cleared up but the paths were still very wet, and the rocks we had to climb in order to reach the pagoda, were very slippery. It was a tough climb in long trousers, the bottoms of which were caked with mud and soaking wet and thus wouldn't stay rolled up due to the weight of the water. At the top, there were a series of steps leading down into a large cave. Inside the cave were numerous buddha statues, candles and burning incence, and worshippers had left money wedged between the folds of the stalagmites.

Only 4 out of the 12 of us decided to walk the slippery route back down, the rest of them choosing to take the 30,000VND cable car ride. I lost count of how many times I was offered a coconut or a can of coke by the numerous food and drink vendors who'd set up shop along the route. I can't stand coke and a coconut would be a rather awkward and bulky object to carry whilst trekking!

Back on the river the sun was attempting to shine through the grey rain clouds and we all had a bit of fun, as the ladies who were rowing our boats decided to partake in a bit of an Oxford/Cambridge boat race! One cocky gentleman passenger obviously thought he could do a better job than the professionals, but ended up rowing the vehicle around in circles! As we were pulling in to the docking station, our lady demanded that we give her a tip. The rich German family (you didn't see the hotel we picked them up from this morning!) gave her 20,000VND, which she accepted very ungratefully and immediately asked for another 30,000! I certainly wasn't going to tip someone who was demanding, ungrateful and downright rude! That's one thing I won't miss about Vietnam : the people that try and milk you for every dollar you have . . .

Photos

Pagoda we explored on the climb down from the cave entrance

Rowing boats plying the river, which was surrounded by limestone mountains

Hill tribes and mudslides

I left Sapa this morning equipped with a large umbrella, in the hope that it would keep the rain away or at least keep me a little drier than I was yesterday (which wouldn't really be difficult). The paths were still very wet from yesterday's downpours and there was a thick mist over the mountains, obscuring the view. The Hmong village of Lao Chai was todays destination, tucked away in between mountains and rice fields and beside a beautiful clear stream running through the rocks.

Not long after leaving Sapa, we were met by a bunch of adorable little Hmong girls wearing wreaths on their heads made from tree ferns. They were incredibly photogenic, so I bought a couple of woven bracelets from them in exchange for a few photographs. One little girl immediately warmed to Sam and the two of them walked down the road together holding hands and chatting and laughing like old friends. The children's command of the English language was absolutely incredible. I know their livelihood depends upon it, but when I think back to the 15/16 year old kids in Laos, who were only just managing to grasp English on a very basic conversational level, the fact that these children (who couldn't have been more than 10 years old) could also understand and answer questions about their culture and lifestyle was remarkable.

We said goodbye to the children and set off down a rocky track, which was extremely muddy and slippery after the rain. The views were awesome, but managing to watch our footing as well as take in the scenery was an incredibly tricky task. It became even more tricky when the heavens opened a few moments later, and the rain began to wash the mud down the slopes, taking us with it if we lost our concentration for a split second. Bearing in mind the difficulty we were having simply staying on our feet, it was most annoying to see the local Hmong children in wellies or plastic sandals skipping past us with ease . . .

The further downhill we clambered the more difficult the track became. We were picking our way down steep slopes caked in a thick layer of mud, and there was a distict lack of vegetation to hang on to, should we lose our footing. At the bottom of the steepest slope, after several of our group already had attractive brown stains on their trousers or rain macs, we had the task of crossing a river, balanced on a length of bamboo which was coated with mud, like grease. Most of us chose to wade through the river rather than take the pretty high risk of falling in. We then continued our trek by walking inbetween ricefields balanced on a narrow, wet, muddy ledge. One foot wrong and we would have ended up like the buffalo : bathing in the stuff! We climbed the wet rocks beside the rice fields and walked along a rather precarious escarpment until, after 3 long hours, the village finally came into view.

As we made our descent into the village, we passed a group of villagers skinning a buffalo and separating the blood red meat from the bone. The unfortunate animal had lost its footing and fallen down the mountain. Rather than leave his body there to rot, the Hmong tribe were being resourceful with his remains. I wouldn't have minded this encounter so much if it hadn't been just before we stopped for lunch!

As if by magic, in the time that it had taken us to eat our lunch, the rain had cleared up and the sun was shining in full force. We passed a number of women working in the rice fields, and men guiding their buffalo through the muddy soil, preparing it for the next crop of rice. The Hmong children cheerfully followed us, and chatted to us as we waded through the muddy path, which lead to the Zay tribe village of Ta Van. It was quite a surreal sensation : the sun was burning down on my shoulders whilst at the same time my feet were wet and cold and covered in mud. If you've seen the film Labyrinth, think of the bog of eternal stench and that's exactly how it sounded as I squelched my way through the mud! I truly believed I'd try to pick my foot up and leave my shoe behind! One girl lost her leg in the mud, and rather than help to pull her out her friends stood there and took pictures of her! Still, I think I would have done the same had it been one of my friends!

We walked uphill through Ta Van village until we were so high up we were looking down upon the layers and layers of ricefields, the blue sky peeking through the clouds. This was more like it; it's weather like this that helps you appreciate the real beauty of this place. Sapa is much more than I'd imagined and I wish I'd chosen to spend longer than just 2 days of my trip here.

Although we organised a tour from Hanoi to Sapa, it is possible to complete the journey and the treks independently. Two French Canadian girls we spoke to had done just that and reckoned that the whole experience (including accommodation, food, admission to the villages, and the train to and from Sapa) had cost them $40, when we paid $57.

Back at Sapa, we showered, washed our muddy footwear, and just had time for dinner before catching the overnight train back to Hanoi. I took the top bunk this time and actually managed to fall out of it before I'd even got in! I'd put my right foot on the little step (which was barely large enough to accommodate my big toe) and then put my left knee on the bed to lift myself up. Only my knee slipped and my whole body subsequently came hurtling to the floor. I scraped my leg somewhere along the way and landed on my arse with a bump. Sam looked rather bewildred to find me sitting on the floor looking up at her only moments after I'd made my climb to the top!

Photos :

Woman working in the ricefields with her baby strapped to her back

Cute little Hmong girl who made friends with Sam

The beautiful rainy highlands of Sapa

Believing that we'd be too hot trekking in waterproof jackets, we failed to pack ours last night. So this morning we set off for Cat Cat Village in the terrential rain, looking like a pair of walking plastic bags in our flimsy transparent rain macs we'd bought from the local shop for 3000VND.

Despite the rain the scenery still looking amazing. It reminded me a little of Queenstown in New Zealand, the way the clouds hung ominously over the mountains. In the foreground, the slopes had been formed into rice paddies that looked like steps down the mountainside. Everywhere you looked there were tribespeople (Black Hmong) with their buffalo tending to their crops. Some of the steps were a rich emerald green, where the rice plants had begun to grow. Others were chocolate brown and thick with mud, where the villagers were preparing the soil for the next crop. There were also fields of maize, beet, and hemp scattered across the hillsides.

Today was one of those many ocassions on my travels when a dry bag would have been a godsend, for every time I wanted to take a photograph I had to remove one arm from my rain mac in order to release the rucksack from my back and the open the freezer bag (kindly donated to me from Kotoe) in which my camera was contained. Even so, my camera was getting dotted with raindrops simply while I focussed the shot.

We followed the road from Sapa down to the black Hmong village of Cat Cat, encountering villagers along the way, also dressed in rain macs and wellingtons, carrying huge bamboo baskets of firewood on their backs. We also met a little boy who had captured a snake and was proudly displaying his catch by dragging it along the ground on the end of a long bamboo pole taller than he was. It wasn't until the snake moved its tail that I realised it was still alive. Our guide proceeded to inform us that if we were to be bitten by one of these snakes we would be dead within 10 minutes!

When the rain really started to hammer down, we stopped under a little wooden shelter where a couple of the young Hmong girls were attempting to sell pretty woven bracelets and purses. However, as soon as the snake boy appeared, bringing his catch with him, the little girls dissapeared inside, their heads peeping out from behind the door.

The rain refused to ease, so we continued our descent down a series of stone steps, avoiding puddles and huge piles of buffalo dung. We passed a number of small waterfalls, but the water running through them was a creamy brown colour, like caramel. It reminded me of a scene out of Willy Wonker and the Chocolate Factory.

When we returned to Sapa village, I was relieved to be able to peel the rain mac from my wet skin, but a little disappointed that the full day trekking we'd been promised had turned out to be a relatively easy two and a half hour walk. We had the whole of the afternoon free, which I spent wandering around Sapa village and taking in the sights. A crowd of black Hmong people were gathered in front of the old church, which made for a great photo, with pine trees and mountains in the backround. I also paid a visit to Sapa Market, which was a treasure of Hmong handicrafts, such as blankets, skirts, purses, belts, hats, bracelets, and metal bangles of various designs. I was even offered marajuana by a Hmong gentleman as I browsed innocently through his wares.

This evening we ate a delicious dinner of pumpkin soup, vegetable spring rolls, steamed rice, and fruit curry (which was fruit in a pureed apple sauce with cinamon), accompanied by a nice cold tiger beer. We then spent a typical rainy night in, relaxing on the leather sofas in the hotel's common area and watching films on Sky TV.

Photos : Hmong people gathered outside church in Sapa town

The mountains surrounding Sapa.

Card games, dead bodies and goodbyes

We left Cat Ba Island around 7:30am and spent the entire 4 hour boat journey playing cards (Shithead, Trumps and Sevens) and laughing hysterically at Tasha's explanations of the rules to her favourite Christmas day card game, Newmarket. The other members of our group were being very quiet by comparison, many of them asleep with the heads hanging out the window or resting on the table in front of them.

At Halong City, we walked into a restaurant where our lunch arrived, and kept on arriving . . . soup, stir fried squid and vegetables, chips, morning glory with garlic, meaty fish chunks in curry sauce, sweet and sour beef, noodles with pork and seafood, a whole barbequed fish in blackbean sauce, and rice! It was enough to feed 50 people, not 5!!!

Back in Hanoi, it was still raining. I applied for my visa extension (I really don't understand how people can claim to have 'done' whole countries in the space of 2 or 3 weeks), Sam and I booked a 2 day/3 night trek to the northern highlands of Sapa, and I had an argument with the waiter in The Golden Drum, who had put chicken in the prawn and vegetable spring rolls I'd ordered. No amount of explaining could make him understand exactly what was wrong with the dish and why I couldn't eat it.

I awoke the next morning having had a very strange and vivid dream about being very sick (a fever and lots of blackouts) and doctors finally diagnosed my illness as one caused by a 'snow leech' which had found its way inside my body and had been living there for months. At the time of the diagnosis I only had minutes left to live and I was given a bowl of mashed corn beef and carrots (and one other ingredient I can't remember) and instructed to eat it as fast as I could. I've had a number of vivid dreams whilst I've been travelling but that has to be one of the more bizarre . . .

As the rain still hadn't cleared up this morning, we caught a taxi over to Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum. We queried the price initially with a taxi driver who'd just pulled up outside our hotel, and were quoted an incredible $10, which we immediately refused to pay. After a great deal of bartering the final price offered to us was $5, which was more than we'd wanted to pay but which we were just about to agree on when the helpful lady at our hotel overheard and informed us that the journey should cost no more than 30,000VND (under $2). She subsequently called another taxi for us. It was a metered taxi and when we arrived at the Mausoleum, the meter had stopped at 22,000VND ($1.38). It just goes to show how much the locals try to rip us off. Anyone would normally think they'd scored a bargain, having managed to haggle 50% off the asking price. However, little would we have known that this still a hugely inflated price, over 3 times more than the real cost of the service.

We arrived at the Mausoleum to find hundreds of Vietnamese (and a small scattering of westerners) queuing up to pay their respects to Ho Chi Minh, affectionately known as Uncle Ho. It has become a place of pilgrimage for many of the Vietamese, and also the destination for many school trip so it seems.

There were security guards all over the grounds, displaying their authority by repremanding you if you stepped out of line (which included laughing, talking too loudly or literally stepping out of [the orderly] line in which you had to queue to gain entrance to the Mausoleum). They wore crisp white uniforms and carried spear guns, and 3 of them marched passed us as we queued, looking like they'd just stepped out of Monty Python's 'Ministry of Funny Walks.'

As we entered the Mausoleum, it was almost as if you could feel death in the air, the air conditioning was turned up so high. The lady behind me in the queue kept prodding me in the back as she lost her balance on numerous ocassions trying to look at Uncle Ho rather than where she was going!

His body, as it lay inside its glass coffin, a soft blue light upon his face, looked almost like a waxwork. His skin was tight and devoid of the wrinkles you'd normally expect a 79 year old man (dead or alive) to have. As I left the Mausoleum following my surreal whistle stop tour, I pondered over how strange it was that Hanoi's primary tourist attraction was a dead body in a glass box.

When we arrived back in Hanoi's old quarter, we ate lunch at Trong Khach Restaurant, just around the corner from our hotel. It's got paper place mats with pictures on, some very friendly and accommodating staff, and some interesting items on the menu such as fried pumpkin leaf with garlic. I never used to eat much garlic until I left the U.K, but now I don't enjoy my food unless its got huge chunks of the stuff chopped up in it. I also discovered that I'd lost the ability to use a knife and fork when we were preseented with them on our Halong Bay tour. It's strange how easily you adapt to new processes and ideas. I'm sure I'm going to be visiting my local supermarket at home and trying to bater down the price of a cucumber!

Sam and I said goodbye to Emma, Tasha, and Neil this evening as they embarked upon their 22 hour bus journey to Savannaket, Laos. We made a great little group and they've certainly made my last couple of weeks in Vietnam a lot of fun. So 5 became 2 . . . Sam and I almost didn't get on our train to Sapa, as the incompetant guy at our hotel failed to give us the correct tickets and then arranged for us to be taken to the train station 15 minutes after our train was due to leave! Fortunately alarm bells started ringing in my head just in time for him to correct his mistake.

Photo to follow.

mountain trekking with a hangover and a rather wet kayaking experience

I was awoken at 5am by the ship moving noisily from its anchored position in the middle of the bay. Emma stirred and then awoke in a panic wondering when, how and why she went to bed fully clothed. At breakfast Caroline had remembered crying in front of everyone but was a little embarrassed and confused about the fact that it was over something so petty as a missing flashlight.

The boat pulled into Cat Ba harbour at around 8am, we all checked into the fancy (by backpacker standards) Sunflower Hotel and Sam, Emma and I spent the next hour watching a moving film (based on a true story) about 2 austistic children. By 9am, only 9 out of our 14 group members had made it down to do the 3 hour mountain trek, the other 5 still fighting monster hangovers from their hotel beds.

When we started the trek I was starting to wish that I had stayed in bed as well. Exercise is a great way to cure a hangover but not with the level of concentration that our trek required. For the most part we were picking our way through a pathway that didn't exist. We were either climbing hills so steep we were almost on our hands and knees, or clambering over huge rocks with gaping holes in between, or clinging on to every available tree branch as we slid down dry slopes, the earth crumbling beneath our feet. It was just beginning to rain so the air was extremely muggy, and coupled with the fact that we all had so much alcohol running through our bloodstream meant that we all sweated more than we've ever done in our entire lives. I couldn't tell what was rain and what was huge beads of sweat dripping from my face. I was pleased that I'd made the trek at the end (it had cleared my head and my body felt a lot lighter and less sluggish) but I wouldn't exactly say I enjoyed the process of getting there.

After lunch at the hotel, we had just about enough time to grab well needed showers before we set off to do some kayaking around the bay. The rain had turned the skies all grey and misty so that the huge limestone rocks now looked more mysterious than picturesque. I shared a kayak with Sam, who's done kayaking several times before and knows how to steer and reverse as well as simply paddle. However, Tasha and Neil, the only 2 in the group other than me who hadn't done kayaking before, shared a kayak; the weaker of the 2 (Tasha, purely because of her sex) taking the stronger position at the back of the kayak. It was doomed from the start . . .

It didn't seem to matter too much that it was raining as it was warm rain and I was already sitting in an inch of water at the bottom of the kayak. However I do think it would have been an altogether more enjoyable experience had the sun been shining down upom our shoulders. Nevertheless, i'm pleased that my first kayaking experience was through the beautiful waters of Halong Bay.

We lost sight of Tasha and Neil about 15 minutes after leaving the boat, and it was a little worrying that our only guide was in a kayak with Emma, several metres in front of everyone else. When the rest of us returned we were seriously concerned that Tasha and Neil had lost their way amongst the collection of rocks, rocks which to an untrained eye, look very much the same as one another. Our guide eventually took his own kayak out and went to search for them, just at the moment that we spotted a one kayak appear from behind the farthest away rock that we could see. The pair of them slowly zig zagged back towards the boat, cursing each other and dodging large ships and fishing vessels and hawkers in small paddle boats who swarmed around our boat like bees to a honeypot, calling,"hello miss, you buy something?" It may have been a stressful experience for them at the time but hearing about the obstacles they encountered certainly amused the rest of us and at least it was a memorable and exciting first time kayaking experience!

After kayaking, we stopped briefly at Monkey Island where we watched a few monkeys playing in the trees, took a a couple of group photos on the beach, and several people were stung by jelly fish as they swam in the sea. Ouch!

This evening, I don't think any of us wanted a repeat of last night, but as it was Colm's birthday we all congregated in The Noble House bar for some celebratory drinks. As there are a distinct lack of cake shops on Cat Ba Island, we bought him a bottle of tiger beer and attached a candle to each side. So when he returned from the toilet we had lit the candles and all 13 of us were singing 'Happy Birthday' to him in the middle of the bar. We subsequently provided him with several shots of Yagermeister (I seem to be the only person on this earth who actually likes the stuff!) as birthday chasers for his beer.

Photos : Tasha and Neil kayaking back to the boat

Sam and I at The Noble House celebrating Colm's birthday.

The beautiful bay of Halong and a cat among the pigeons!

We departed this morning at 8am for our 3 day small group (14 of us in total, most of us Brits) tour to Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island. The journey to Halong City took about 4 hours, so we arrived at the port just in time to enjoy a beautiful lunch spread on board the ship. Without a doubt it was the tastiest and most exciting mix of food that I've been served on a tour since my 3 day trek in Nan with Tao.

As we left Halong City the sky was a little hazy, but the further out to sea we travelled the clearer at became. The sea wasn't quite as blue as all the postcards suggest but Halong Bay is certainly a very beautiful place to spend a couple of days on board a ship. Imposing limestone rocks rise out of calm green waters and numerous wooden ships with tall sails and tiny one-man fishing boats are dotted across the bay. The scene is so serene it could have been painted on to canvas in front of your eyes.

Allan (the guy I met on the bus to the beach party at Nha Trang) was part of our group, along with 4 Irish guys (Simon, Colm, David and Rory), a girl called Caroline from Bristol and a girl called Anna from Bolton, all of whom have been travelling together for some time. The other 2 members of the motley crew were kiwis Anita and Anna.

Our first (and only) port of call for the day was a huge limestone cavern, whose name in English means 'surprise cave'. Although I appreciate that the authorities have to ensure the cave is both safe and accessible in order for tourism to flourish, I did feel that the concrete floor and steps, metal handrails, coloured lighting and litter bins in the shape of penguins did make this natural wonder seem a little artificial. Nevertheless the coolness of underground was a welcome contrast to the blazing hot sun outside and we had a giggle posing with all the phallic stalagmites.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent admiring the stunning scenery from the deck of the ship, soaking up the sun, writing postcards, playing with the resident 3 month old kitten (a boat seems a strange place to house a cat, as they're scared of water!) and exchanging travel information, advice and anecdotes with the rest of the group. When we watched the sun set it was through a partially cloudy sky, but beautiful all the same. The bodies of Rory and Allan were silhouetted against the sun as they dived into the water.

This evening after dinner, Allan took charge of some drinking games. We all sat up on the deck on cushions from the seating area downstairs and under the light of a single bulb suspended from the ship's mast. We played a couple of card games, one of which was called 'Down The River' and finished up with a dice game called 'Pigeon.' Once you've played Pigeon you'll never want to roll a dice again for as long as you live, through fear of rolling a 2 and a 1. I've not had as much fun with a couple of packs of cards, 2 dice and 3 bottles of vodka for a long time! Tasha is a hilarious drunk : she kept singing "Catch The Pigeon" and then proceeded to have a supposedly in depth conversation with Colm, which mostly involved her saying, "to be sure, to be sure" and, "top of the mornin' to you", in a semi-credible Irish accent!

Emma was pigeon for around 20 minutes and had to consume as much alcohol in that time as the rest of us did over the whole evening. She subsequently disappeared at around 10:30pm, with the intention of going to the toilet, and didn't return. Rory was stumbling around in typical Rory style, and trying to jump off the side of the boat, and Caroline was blubbering drunkenly about the fact that she'd lost her torch.

Everyone peaked a little early I think so by around 1am most of us were asleep in our beds or passed out on the deck of the ship. I stumbled back to our room to find Emma, fully clothed, lying on her bed with her head half the way down and her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress . . .

A good night had by all!

Photos : Halong Bay at sunset

The girls at dinner (Tasha, Emma, Sam, me, Caroline and Bolton Anna)

Temples, puppetry and the grottiest street cafe in Hanoi

I hadn't planned to do a lot more sightseeing in Hue once the others left but the extra 24 hours here gave me a good chance to get this journal up to date and was a welcome break from the constant company I've had since leaving Mui Ne. Travelling with people has the added benefits of making booze cruises and full moon parties and even simple things such as an evening meal and a few drinks a lot more fun, but it completely abolishes any sense of personal space or independence that travelling solo offers you. In spite of this I did feel a little odd eating breakfast at Cafe on Thu Wheels when all the other diners were sharing laughter and conversation with their friends.

Through no fault of my own I almost missed the overnight bus to Hanoi. It was 5:45pm and I was the only person sitting in the hotel lobby with a backpack by my side. So I asked the lady at reception if everything was ok, only to be told that the bus had already left because I wasn't there on time. I'd been sitting in the lobby since 4:30!!! So she called a moto taxi to drive me to the T.M Brothers office in time to catch the bus at its last point of call before leaving Hue. Due to the extra weight in my backpack after my shopping expedition in Hoi An, I almost lost my balance and tumbled off the back of the motorcycle everytime the driver put his foot down!

I was the last person to get a seat on the over-crowded and over-booked bus : the Canadian guy who boarded just after me was given a wicker mat and told to sit on the floor! Ironically, although it may not be the most comfortable way to travel, at least he had room to lie down and therefore had more chance of getting some sleep than the rest of us.

I read my book (Graham Greene's "A Quiet American") for a few hours until we made our final refreshment and toilet stop just before midnight. From this point onwards my eyes became increasingly tired after every hour that passed, but sleep was a long way from my grasp. Not only was the air conditioning not working but the bus was so hot I was sweating like I had some kind of fever. Moreover I was convinced the driver was about to fall asleep at the wheel : he was driving so erratically and swerving all over the road as if he thought he was on a racetrack. Everytime I closed my eyes I was woken by the urgent sounds of car horns and the glaring headlights of the approaching vehicle.

We arrived in Hanoi at 5:30am and were greeted with the surreal sights of aerobics classes in full swing around the lake, numerous joggers limbering up as if they were preparing for a marathon and badmington matches taking place along the sides of the roads. Food vendors lined the pavements, selling bananas, mangosteens and crisp white baguettes out of large bamboo baskets suspended from either end of a long wooden pole; locals were wolfing down bowls of noodle soup with chopsticks, sat on tiny red plastic nursery school stools. This was at a time when in Britain the only signs of life, other than the birds chattering in the trees, would be a postman just beginning his rounds or a milk cart trundling quietly through the streets.

Due to it being Ho Chi Minh's birthday the day before, many of the streets were cordoned off and we had to continue our hourney to the old quarter in several smaller mini buses. As I walked to the Holiday's Hotel where the others were staying, I was hassled the entire way by one of the local touts, despite the fact that I made it perfectly clear that no amount of persuasion would encourage me to stay anywhere other than the hotel at which my friends were currently staying. The Vietnamese are certainly a persistent bunch of people!

Despite my plan to creep quietly into the room with the hotel's spare key, the porter insisted on knocking loudly on the door and a very sleepy-looking Sam opened it. A mattress had been set up for me on the floor and within 5 minutes of me entering the room, I was lying down on it fully clothed, the warm feeling of imminent sleep washing over my incredibly tired body. I awake 3 hours later when the others were rising and Emma had just returned from her run. We had a late breakfast at the Whole Earth Restaurant, booked our tickets to the water puppet show this evening and then began our long walk over to the Temple of Literature, on the outskirts of central Hanoi.

The Temple of Literature was founded in 1070 by Emperor Ly Thanh Tong, who dedicated it to Confucius in order to honour scholars and men of literary accomplishment. It was also the site of Vietnam's first university, established in 1076. It's made up of several gates and courtyards enclosing several serene lakes in the middle of the complex. We watched a traditional Vietnamese musical performance using unusual stringed instruments and a large curved xylophone made of bamboo. Neil was given a traditional hat to wear and was lead up on stage along with 2 other members of the audience. We had a good giggle and judging by Tasha's video footage, so did Neil.

Emma and I walked back from the temple while the others caught a taxi (lazy buggers!) and spotted several barber shops which had been set up along the pavement, using a stool and a mirror attached to the wall. Also very surreal!

The Water Puppet Show this evening was original, energetic and nothing like I'd expected. The orchestra were in full view of the audience at the side of the stage and not only did they perform the musical score but they also communicated the voices for the characters. The story line was summarised in English in the programme but was performed entirely in Vietnamese. I don't know whether I expected some meaningless childish antics like Punch and Judy, but The Water Puppet Show was actually a story, performed in short scenes, that was both energetic, amusing and captivating. It's a shame we hadn't managed to get seats a little closer, as I'd love to have been able to capture some of the magic on camera.

We went back to the Whole Earth Restauarant for dinner (where they do a selection of vegetarian dishes which are designed to look and taste like meat) and then we found possibly the grottiest street cafe in Hanoi at which to drink some beer Hoi. It was so reminiscent of being in a sewer that we half expected a couple of rats to join us at our table. It also had, by Tasha's own admission (as she was the only one brave enough to visit it), "the worst toilet in Vietnam." Think Trainspotting, only take away the presence of a western toilet, or any kind of toilet for that matter . . .

Photos :

Barber shop set up on the side of one of Hanoi's streets

Tradional Vietnamese music performers at the Temple of Literature, Hanoi

Hue's 'Tour on Thu Wheels'

The others left for Hue at 7:30am, but I'd decided to stay a couple more hours in order to get a few more gifts I'd seen for my friends and family back home. So I arrived in Hue at around 5:30pm, to be met by a moto driver holding a card with my name on, which the others had organised for me.

We spent the evening opposite our hotel, at Cafe on Thu Wheels, a small bar run by the eccentric, fun-loving Thu. It's a real backpackers hangout with cheap food, permenant happy hours, grafitti from past visitors adorning the walls, and the kind of music you used to listen to at Uni. Thu welcomes her punters with questions like, "what's your poison?" and, "how's it hanging big boy?" and she got everyone in the bar playing her imaginative, slightly rude, and largely hilarious drinking games. Tasha's friend Chris (who she knows from home but who's also travelling around the world) spent the evening with us and almost got his hair singed when Thu stuck a cocktail stick in his head and lit it, because he was hesitating about whether to join us on Thu's motorbike tour tomorrow! Clearly she doesn't believe in gentle persuasion!

After laughing so much our ribs hurt, we left Cafe on Thu Wheels in order to check out Belgian bar B4. It may well serve Belgian beers (Leffe, Hoegarden and Grimbergan) but at four times the price of the Vietnamese variety. So we all drank beer Huda and amused ourselves by playing Jenga and Uno and listening to Tasha's quirky limericks.

The next morning Thu insisted on cooking us all breakfast before we embarked upon our 'Tour on Thu Wheels'. We headed into Hue's countryside, down narrow dirt tracks only just wide enough to accommodate the width of the motorcycle. We witnessed working water buffalo, and men, women and children tending to the rice fields. It was a real glimpse of Vietnamese village life, and I had the luxury of a driver who enjoyed taking me over the largest bumps and potholes and running chicken off the road!

We stopped firstly at Thanh Toan Bridge, a covered footbridge similar in design to the Japanese Bridge in Hoi An. It's mostly used by local villagers for naps in the shady walkway and a number of young children stared at us curiously through the decorative stonework, their legs dangling over the sides of the bridge.

We subsequently took a drive up to Thien Mu Pagoda, which is built on a hillside overlooking the Perfume River. It's one of the most famous structures in Vietnam and is the unofficial symbol of Hue. The 21m high seven storey tower is the main feature but there's also a huge marble turtle (a symbol of longevity) and a 2052kg bell (which is apparently audible up to 10km away) housed in pavillions at either side of the tower. Thien Mu Pagoda is also home to the Austin motorcar which monk Thich Quay Duc drove to the site of his 1963 self immolation in Saigon, and a photograph illustrating 'the event.' Thich Quay Duc was protesting against the policies of president Ngo Dinh Diem. It strikes me as a rather extreme method of argument . . .

At Tu Hien Pagoda (a pretty temple complex in a shaded area surrounded by gardens and lotus ponds) we witness an alms ceremony taking place. A long line of monks and novices (the novices wear white robes and exhibit small tufts of unshaved hair at the front of their heads and to the left and right of their crowns) paraded through the gardens in front of the temple and along the pathway leading up to its entrance, where we stood in a long silent line as if we were about to greet royalty. They carried their alms bowls and a glass of milk into the temple and we watched them chanting and praying through the open windows.

We continued our tour by driving up to Bunker Hill, an old American gun position with a commanding view over a bend in the Perfume River, and finally the most famous of the royal tombs, the tomb of Tu Duc (entrance fee 55,000VND) who was a poet and the king of Vietnam from 1847 to 1883. His Mausoleum is spectacular and there's also a wooden pavillion built on a peaceful spot by the lake where the king used to write his romantic poetry.

The tour ended around 2:30pm (6 hours in length) and was well worth the $6 price tag. We ate a late lunch at Lac Thanh Restaurant, which has a good selection of Hue specialities and vegetarian food, and in the style of Cafe on Thu Wheels, grafitti covering the otherwise dreary interior. The cheerful owners certainly made up for the slightly drab and dated feel to the place and the food was both cheap, original and first class.

When the others returned to the hotel to pack in preparation for their overnight train journey to Hanoi, I visited the Citadel and had a full blown argument with a cyclo driver, who tried to do me out of 15,000VND. I reluctantly agreed to the ride to the Citadel as it was, preferring to walk everywhere if at all possible. In hindsight I wish I hadn't succumbed, as the driver managed to taint my view of the Vietnamese as a race of very friendly and welcoming people. He demanded I pay him 30,000VND for a ride we'd initially agreed would cost me 15,000VND. After relaying our initial conversation to him several times and stating that I would not be paying him an extra 15,000VND for taking me to a pagoda I didn't even ask to visit, I shoved 15,000VND roughly into his shirt pocket and walked off, half expecting him to follow me and try and run me down with his cyclo or re-appear with one of his friends who conveniently happened to be a policeman. Fortunately he didn't.

Photo is of monks at the alms ceremony, Tu Hien Pagoda, Hue.

Ancient Champa ruins at My Son and Mr Kim's taste sensations

We said goodbye to Pill and Rob this morning as they both headed up to Hue and I hope very much that we'll meet up with them again in Hanoi. Pill is brilliant fun and so easy to talk to I really felt like she was one of my friends after only days in her company, and Rob seems like a really laid back, down to earth, chilled out kinda guy.

The remaining five of us (Sam, Emma, Tasha, Neil and I) boarded the bus to the Unesco World Heritage site of the ancient kingdom of Champa at My Son. During the Vietnam war the Viet Cong used My Son as a base and in response the Americans bombed the monumnets. Traces of 68 structures have been found and Vietnamese authorities are attempting to restore as many as possible. Archeologists have divided My Son's monuments into 10 main groups, lettered A-K, all of which are in easy walking distance of each other. I must admit that the ancient Champa kingdom was not as intact as I'd imagined from the photographs in my Lonely Planet guide, and the amount of vegetation growing between the bricks made it difficult to appreciate fully what is left. However, it was a pleasant walk around the grounds and the interiors of some of the monuments resemble mini museums displaying Cham artifacts. We were also able to watch traditional Cham performances of music and dance.

We travelled back to Hoi An by boat and ate lunch out of individual plastic boxes which looked like miniature steamers. We all sat up on the deck of the ship, soaking up the sun and watching village life along the river. We made one stop at a wood carving village where everythings from bowls to buddhas to huge wooden boats were on display inside the many shops and workshops we visited.

We arrived back at Hoi an just after 3pm and collected our completed clothing from Phuong Nam. Emma and I were so impressed that our linen trousers were such a perfect fit that we joked about the fact that it was a shame we didn't have time to order another pair. A joke that was taken seriously by Thao (the store owner), who informed us that it wouldn't be a problem for her tailor to make us another pair of trousers by around 8pm this evening. When you're wearing a pair of fully-lined tailor made trousers that you've designed, out of a quality material that you've chosen for the equivalent of 7 or 8 British pounds, it seems like an impossible offer to refuse. So Tasha, Emma and I put another order in with Thao at Phuong Nam tailors and vowed to get our backpacker budget back on track once we left Hoi An.

Following our final fashion splurge, we got a couple more sections sliced off our sightseeing ticket by firstly visiting the Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation, and secondly, Tan Ky House. We were warmly welcomed into Tan Ky and given cups of Vietnamese tea whilst a friendly lady who spoke excellent English talked us through the history of the building, its inhabitants and the features within it. Tan Ky is the oldest private house in Hoi An, built two centuries ago as the home of a well-to-do ethnic Vietnamese merchant. The owner's family has lived in the house for seven generations, three of these are still living in the house today, the youngest of which is a 20 year old female student. The house is beautifully preserved and the design indicates evidence of Japanese and Chinese influences.

We walked back to our hotel across the Japanese Covered Bridge, which was built by the Japanese community of Hoi An in 1593 (it has been restored several times since) in order to link them with the Chinese quarters across the stream. After we'd collected our clothes from Phuong Nam this evening (and Neil was measured for yet another shirt which he's asked me to collect for him tomorrow), we ate at Cafe des Amis, an original riverfront restaurant which has no menu to speak of : diners eat whatever the chef, the friendly and attentive Mr Kim, feels like cooking that day. There are three set menus, consisting of 3 courses and a small dessert : 60,000VND for vegetarians; 70,000VND for seafood; and 90,000VND for meateaters.

The idea in itself deserved one final splurge. We'd been traeted like celebrities at the tailors over the last couple of days, so why not dine like one? I can honestly say, it was the most delicious meal I've eaten since my arrival in Vietnam, and a wonderfully unusual choice of dishes, most of which I've never tried before. We ate shrimp, squid, crab and some kind of meaty fish (possibly tuna), and the mix of flavours used in all 3 dishes was spot on. The meal was finished with the only dessert I'll actually eat (with the exception of the odd cheesecake) : a wonderfully smooth creme caramel. Tasha wolfed hers down so quickly that Mr Kim gave her a second! No visit to Hoi An should be complete without a visit to Mr Kim's restaurant to sample his delicious mix of the best Vietnamese food in Vietnam.

Photo is of the remains of the ancient Champa kingdom at My Son.

Fittings, adjustments and some historic sites in Hoi An's old town

Pill and I ate breakfast at Bo Bo's Restaurant (where they serve the tastiest home-made chilli sause I've eaten in a long time) whilst we waited for the others to rise. For all of us, the whole day was spent flitting between tailors for fittings and adjustments (I had a pair of Ali Ba Ba pants made which had to be altered twice at Impressions Boutique and are still a little loose around the ankles), sightseeing and shopping for gifts and souvenirs.

We all bought a 75,000VND ticket for the Unesco World Heritage site that is Hoi An's ancient city. The ticket permits viewing of one museum, one assembly hall, one ancient house, one temple, the handicraft workshop and the Japanese covered bridge. I visited the Museum of History and Culture (which is basically a room full of uncoverec artifacts and took me all of five minutes to view) and Quan Cong Temple nextdoor, which was a more interesting site and displayed many Chinese influences including carp-shaped rain spouts on the roof surrounding the courtyard. The carp is a symbol of patience is Chinese mythology and is popular throughout Hoi An. I also wandered around the corner (I love the fact that Hoi An's old town is so compact) to the Handicraft Workshop, where craftsmen and women make lanterns, sculpt wood carvings and cast silver to create jewellery and ornaments.

Hoi An truly is a shopper's paradise. There are some fantastic art galleries where local artists create beautiful pictures that capture the essense of Vietnam or excellent copies of famous paintings by well known international artists. You can also by silk bags, ties, scarves, gloves, and purses, along with lanterns, wood carvings, wall hangings, jewellery, beautifully crafted bowls and plates, and obviously as many items of clothing and pairs of shoes as you can fit in your suitcase. Rob even bought another holdall to fit all his purchases in!

It's a wierd sensation buying clothing that we've been unable to try on and not even seen, but overall we were all pleased with the outcome of our garments, especially the items we'd ordered at Phuong Nam. My top and skirt (made out of aubergine coloured Vietnamese silk) had been made exactly as i'd designed it and imagined it to look.

The plan this evening was to get dolled up in our new garments and go for a nice meal, but Tasha and Emma were frightened of damaging their clothes (as they needed their dresses for a wedding when they returned home), and my top and skirt still needed hemming, so we abolished the nice meal idea and ate at Bo Bo's again. Nevertheless, Rob went out suited and booted and I accompanied him in my baggy ali ba ba pants and semi-smart Vietnamese silk and linen top. Before we'd even reached the end of the road, Rob had received numerous comments about how handsome he looked - mainly from young female Vietnamese shop assistants!

After our meal (or rather, after the football match that all but Tasha and I were intent on watching), we headed over to Treats Bar for a few beers and games of Pool. It wasn't exactly a treat in Treats, because as soon as the clock struck 11pm, the staff became a little too keen to evict us from the premises, so much so that they were removing the pool balls from the pockets as we potted them!

Photo is of a typical street scene in Hoi An's old town.

Tailor made treats in Hoi An

When I woke up this morning I was rather relieved to find myself in a nice comfortable hotel bed, having managed to get around six hours sleep, as opposed to on a sandy beach, thoroughly knackered, surrounded by random strangers and covered in mosquito bites. So, in hindsight, I was pleased I'd made the decision to come home with the others, despite my stubborn determination to party until dawn.

Pill and I ate breakfast at Cafe Amis before burning to a crisp on a very windy beach. Pill forgot to put sunscreen on her arms and ended up with a couple of limbs almost the same colour as the meat hanging up in the market! After a whole afternoon of achieving nothing constructive, we ironically found ourselves running around at the last minute to get cash and food before our night bus to Hoi An left at 6:30pm. Sam, Emma, Tasha and Neil were also on the bus, as was Rob, a Brentford fan from Uxbridge who we chatted to until the seven of us fell into some degree of semi-consciousness, which in my case could be loosely described as sleep for around two hours of the journey.

When we arrived in Hoi An about 12 hours later all I wanted to to was go to bed. However, after being hassled by moto drivers (2 of whom blatantly lied to us about the price of a hotel room in order to obtain their commission from the hotel) I decided to ride out the desire to sleep and simply get an early night later on this evening. So the seven of us checked into a couple of rooms at the Hoi Pho Hotel and ate breakfast at the cafe next door. The power was out (and remained out all day as it happened) so our choice of food was limited to what didn't require cooking, hence we ate very healthy breakfasts of fruit, yoghurt and museli, accompanied by some strong coffee to keep us awake.

Hoi An is famous for the quality and quantity of tailor-made garments produced here. Almost every other shop along the quaint streets of the old town is a virtual treasure trove, with fabric of every colour and variety stacked to the ceilings inside. Garments can be made to measure in a matter of hours and for little over the cost of the material itself. With these facts in mind, we all (including the men!) decided to throw our backpacker budgets out the window and treat ourselves to a few items of clothing during our stay in Hoi An.

Choosing a tailor is not an easy task and it's a decision that's often made based upon the fabric that's available inside the shops, the designs you see in their magazines, or simply when a garment on one of the manequins outside catches your eye. Between us we chose a number of different tailors, but the one which stood out solely from our initial consultation (as this is all we were able to do today) was Phuong Nam, just left of the entrance to the Central Market. It's a family business and the girls appeared to be a lot more attentive, patient and friendly than many of the other outlets we visited. Moreover, the measurements they took in preparation were more detailed and seemed to be more presise. Tasha and Emma were both measured for dresses here and I was measured for a top and a skirt, which I wanted to look like a dress when worn together. Depending on the tailor and whether or not you want your garment lined, a pair of trousers will normally cost between $12 and $15, a dress between $15 and $20, and a suit between $40 and $50.

In the evening we wandered around the quaint streets of the old town, beautifully lit by the colourful glow from the lanterns hanging up just inside the shop doors. We ate at Bo Bo's Restaurant, a small and very cheap (by Vietnamese standards) eatery along Le Loi. We all sampled the local Cao Lao (doughy flat noodles mixed with greens, beansprouts and croutons, and topped with pork slices (vegetarians get tomatoes and carrots instead) and crumbled rice paper, and served with soy sauce). It received mixed responses from us all but I liked it, and at 8000VND it's always going to be the cheapest meal on the menu.

We finished up enjoying beer Larue in fancy pint glasses at Tam Tam Cafe, and despite our good intentions of retiring early, we arrived back at our hotel just before midnight.

Photo is of some colourful lanterns which were being made at the handicraft workshop, Hoi An.

Drunken shenanigans at the Full Moon Party

The lack of natural light in our room meant that Pill and I awoke very bleary-eyed at ten to one in the afternoon! I think the lady at Duy Phuoc Cafe must have realised we were hungover when we ordered 2 cheese omelettes (the necessary unhealthy fried food that tastes so good after a night on the beer), a fruit salad (to replace the nutrients in our body lost through the excessive amounts of alcohol we'd consumed) and enough water to fill an ocean! Even after I'd finished the last drop of water it had come nowhere close to quenching my seemingly unquenchable thirst.

We spent a couple of hours on a very windy beach, so windy in fact that everytime someone walked past us the movement of their feet disturbed the sand, which was subsequently blown all over our faces and bodies as we lay. The objects we'd placed upon the corners of our sarongs to prevent them from cocooning us on the sand, were also being blown out of position. As we left the beach, the wind was so strong and the humidity so high that we really thought there was a storm on its way.

The storm didn't arrive, which was quite fortunate as we were on our way to the full moon party this evening on a secluded beach about 30km from Nha Trang. We all met for drinks beforehand at The Red Apple and were given straw hats and bandanas to get us in the mood. When the bus left around 7pm there were not enough seats to accomodate all of us, so I was wedged on to the front seat with the arm rest digging into my back next to Pill and a British guy who's just bought a bar in Guatemala.

The bus stopped by the side of a dark and deserted road and we were met by a man dressed like a security card who was carrying a flashlight. This in itself was very strange, so when he confiscated our empty bottles and instructed us to follow him down an unlit sandy pathway lined with dense vegetation, the experience became even stranger. Considering we'd expected to get off the bus and be met by the sounds of DJ's, thumping bass, and a vast array of colourful lights decorating a beach full of revellers in various stages of intoxication, to find a lone security guard and a deserted dirt track was surreal to say the least. We walked for about 500m before approaching the brow of a hill. From the top of the hill we beheld a small stage, a couple of amateur D.J's (the flyer promised 'international D.J's'), one bar, a scattering of fairy lights dangling from the trees, a bonfire waiting to be lit, and a very beautiful but very empty beach. This was certainly no Kho Phanyan!

Nevertheless, I was determined to make the best out of the evening and it did turn out to be a lot of fun after the inappropriate magic show and dancing competition, reminiscent of a school disco! An hour or two into the party there were two girls, trashed, dancing around the - now lit - bonfire. An hour later two security guards were attempting to prop up a semi-conscious guy who was so wasted his legs had turned to jelly. The two tiny Vietnamese men were strugling to hold the weight of this western giant and he eventually crumbled to the floor, still holding his partially smoked cigarette in his hand. Copious amounts of cocktail buckets were consumed, numerous photos were taken of the five of us in our silly hats and bandanas in various stages of intoxication. The cute guy who got ran over last night was hobbling around with a drink in his hand, mingling with the guests and pulling strange faces in everyone's snapshots. I was up on the stage with the rest of the crowd, bouncing around to the likes of the Chemical Brothers with a load of random strangers, including the older guy with dreadlocks who I'd met in the toilet queue at the Red Apple.

As soon as I decided to sit down and join the others for a while, Tung from The Red Sun (I didn't even know he was at the party until this point) found me. Well, that was it : I was then stuck with a love-sick lap dog for the duration of the night. Everywhere I went then so did he. I tried to make it clear that I wasn't interested in him in that way, but either he didn't understand or he was incredibly persistent - or just plain drunk! When the five of us decided to catch a taxi home at around 4am, he not only walked me to the taxi holding my hand like a child, but he got in the taxi with us! Poor Sam was sat in the middle of us like a gooseberry, as Tung once again grabbed hold of my hand like it was some kind of lifeline. By the time we reached Nha Trang, Tung had fallen asleep in the taxi, so I - if a little guiltily - stepped over him and crept back into the hotel with Pill.

Photo is the best depiction of the evening I could find : a very drunk Tung trying to nuzzle my ear, Full Moon Party, Nha Trang.

A birthday booze cruise and an intoxicated evening at The Sailing Club

Pill and I really could have done with breakfast this morning so it was just typical that the bus arrived 30 minutes late to take us down to the harbour. The mini bus was full of 'older' Vietnamese people who were not exactly dressed for a boat trip so this didn't bode well for the expectations Pill held for a sun-filled, fun-filled birthday. However our fears were allayed when we got to the harbour and approximately 20 other tourists were already waiting on the boat, along with possibly another 100 on similar boats owned by alternative tour companies in Nha Trang.

We set off on the May Linh boat for Mun (black) Island, and were immediately entertained by our amusing guide who talked excessively about kissing and strip shows and the fact that he was single, and liked to use the phrase "same same but different" at the end of all his gags. I haven't been on a boat trip on the ocean since I've been travelling so it was beautiful to see the huge mountains rising from a piercingly blue sea. The sun glistened on the surface and fish were jumping out of the water, creating ripples in the calm sea. At Mun Island the boat stopped for an hour and we were able to go swimming and snorkelling. Once we'd swam far enough away from the boat, the water was both very clear and very deep. There weren't a huge amount of fish but the coral was spectacular. Of the fish I did see, those that caught my eye were the following :

1. A Moorish Idol (I know the name of that one because it was in 'Finding Nemo')
2. A fish with a white head and large black eye, a black body and a saffron coloured tail
3. A long aquamarine and blue fish with a large snout
4. A flat round yellow fish with a black splodge on it's body
5. A large turquoise and green fish

If anyone knows the names of the other fish I have (badly) described, answers on a postcard please . . . (i.e leave a comment at the end of my blog)

We then got back on board the ship and stopped for lunch close to a lobster farm. Considering we were right on the ocean I expected to be eating a bit of fresh seafood, but there wasn't a squid or crustacean in sight and eating rice and soup with chopsticks was rather interesting. Following lunch our strip show we'd been promised turned out to be the crew of the ship forming a band (a tambourine man, a guy on drums made from empty steel containers, an electric guitarist, and our guide as the singer who'd managed to take off his shirt but nothing else, fortunately) and performing tracks such as Yellow Submarine and Waltzing Matilda. It finished with a dance off to The Twist, where our guide dragged willing (and unwilling) tourists up onto his makeshift stage.

By this time Pill and I were thoroughly enjoying the day. Everyone was a lot more relaxed and we all began chatting enthusiastically to one another. After 'the show' our guide introduced the inpromptu 'floating bar' where we were all served fruit wine (in fact I think it was Dalat mulberry wine) and floated around in rubber rings upon the ocean, drinking and sharing conversation with our newly made companions.

We also visited Tam Island, where we had to pay 5000VND for the priviledge of sitting on a very dirty, very shingly, very overcrowded beach, and Mot Island, where we visited the floating bar again whilst the Vietnamese visited the Aquarium. We said goodbye to people when the trip finished around 5pm and promised to meet up with a lot of them later at The Red Apple for Pill's birthday celebrations.

It was certainly a birthday I wouldn't forget : one of those nights where you're still piecing the events together the next morning. We ate at Cafe Amis and met Laura and Sam and another girl called Emma (although I'm not quite sure where we adopted her from) in The Red Apple. Emma's friends Tasha and Neil bought Pill a bottle of red champagne and as soon as the staff at the bar discovered that it was Pill's birthday, she was plied with drinks all night, which we all helped her to consume.

The night was going fantastically, the staff were even doing some funky choreographed dance moves in the street to Michael Jackson's 'Thriller', when all of a sudden there was a huge crash, sparks flew across the road and the whole pub went silent. One of the staff (a cute Vietnamese guy in a funky t-shirt and baggy low-slung skater jeans) had stuck his leg out whilst dancing and meanwhile a motorcycle driver on the road had not given him a wide enough birth and had run straight into the guy's leg, knocking him to the ground. The motorcyclist had subsequently come off his bike and the bike had skidded along the road with him underneath it. Surprisingly I'd not seen any motorbike accidents until I got to Dalat (apart from the unavoidable waterbomb induced ones in Phnom Penh over new year) and now I've seen three (although the other two were only minor) in the space of three days. The guy from The Red Apple was taken to hospital (I'm still not sure what happened to the driver of the motorbike) and returned an hour or so later, hobbling badly and with a huge bandage on his head, blood still visibly seaping from his wound.

Pill and I left the others at about 1am to head down to The Sailing Club for a bit of a dance. We walked in and we were at the bar about to order a drink when a blond Danish guy sat at the bar placed two cocktail buckets in front of us. He said he'd ordered too many and needed us to help him drink them! In hindsight I probably shouldn't have accepted a drink from a random stranger, but then everyone's a random stranger when you're travelling and it didn't seem to do us much harm - apart from getting us hideously and hilariously drunk. We chatted to the Danish guy and his friend for a while before getting rid of some alcohol induced energy on the dance floor.

The rest of the evening (or rather, morning!) is a bit of a blur. Lots of dancing and having our photographs taken with people we accosted on the dance floor and trying to escape the drunken affections of the Danish guy's friend. We left The Sailing Club when it closed (at 4am) and stopped for more drinks (although I don't quite know how I managed to consume any more alcohol) on our way back at The Red Apple, which was still open. We ended up going home in a cyclo, although this was no ordinary journey : Pill had hijacked the cyclo from the driver (all amicably) and was cycling me around the streets of Nha Trang, pointing out shops and restaurants and random objects as if they were tourist attractions.

Photo to follow.