My country my beer

Overgrown temples at Ankor - this one is Ta Som

It seems to be a feature of travelling that you wear a t shirt illustrating the local beer. Round here the local beer is, predictably, Angkor - slogan: "my country, my beer". Steve has bought two beer t shirts so far: Angkor and Tiger... with more to come..

Cambodia was a refreshing change of pace from Vietnam. Generally fewer people - itself a sad indictment of Cambodia's history (for those who don't know, the cultural revolution sparked by the Khmer Rouge - and indirectly attributable to US bombings as part of the Vietnam War - killed a quarter of Cambodia's population between 1975 and 1980, through "disappearances", famine, forced labour, sickness and war.) It is probably about 5 years behind Vietnam in terms of tourist numbers, and as far as we can see that is nothing but a good thing. The degree of ripping off here is substantially less, people are friendlier, the food is better, and even here in Angkor, which is quite simply one of the biggest tourist draws in Asia, you still feel you get personal attention.

We enjoyed Phnom Penh, and despite the LP's harsh warnings of armed robberies "If you are robbed, keep your hands above your head...." we had no problems at all. On the first day we had a massage by blind masseurs, an ideal job opportunity for blind people in a country where disabilities are hidden or paraded for begging.

The Tuol Sleng museum in Phnom Penh is a must-see. It is an old school - the monkey bars are still standing - which was used by the Khmer Rouge as a prison for intellectuals, anyone wearing glasses, anyone who spoke foreign languages, pretty much anyone the Khmer Rouge didn't like. 17,000 people passed through Tuol Sleng, all but 7 ending up at the Killing Fields where they were murdered above mass graves, often by bludgeoning to save bullets.

The day after visiting Tuol Sleng we thought we'd cycle out to the Killing Fields. According to the LP it is "clearly signposted and a pleasant ride when you get out of town". So off we went, cycling along busy roads. Two hours later we gave up. We had been cycling in scorching heat for two hours without leaving the city and having twice lost the signage. After cycling along a road so dusty it made us choke we decided enough was enough and called a tuk tuk instead! It is cyclable but only with a good map!...
There isn't much to see at the Killing Fields - a stupa containing the multiple skulls dug up from the site, many excavated pits, and an atmosphere.

On advice we forsook the beach resort of Sihanoukville for a little town of Kampot. There's very little to do there but the change of pace from Vietnam was stark - you can wander down the centre of the road, browse the one and only bookshop for hours or have dinner in quiet riverside places. We took motorbikes to the river rapids out of town where locals go swimming. The banks of the river were littered with the leftover meals and packaging of all the Cambodians who'd eaten there before us. We gingerly picked our way to the water, slightly wary of landmines - Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined countries in the world - (Ethiopia and Afghanistan are two other biggies) - they advise you never to step away from well marked paths.


Fire artist in Kampot
On the way back I overcooked the throttle on a gritty corner and skidded the bike over. I gave a yelp as it went, mainly because I felt so stupid but apart from a few scrapes I was fine. All the bikes over here are so low powered it would be difficult to get up enough speed to do any damage. The brake handle was a little scratched but when I showed the hire shop they were completely unbothered - perhaps lots of silly tourists do what I did.

We also visited a tropical island - Rabbit Island - while in Kampot. It was completely undeveloped, just a couple of simple cafes each hosting 6 bungalows, and maybe four island houses on the entire place. No shops, no tv, virtually no electricity. Our stilted bamboo bungalow ($4 US per night) was furnished with a mattress on the floor, a shard of mirror and a stub of candle which wouldn't stay lit due to the storm whistling through the walls. We walked around the island - obviously something not done very often because the path completely disappeared at one point. After being impaled by numerous thorns we gave up and waded around in the sea instead.

The sad thing is that developers from the west, having saturated Thailand, have cottoned on to the fact that there are loads of idyllic islands off the coast of Cambodia which are currently squatted by refugees from the Khmer Rouge regime, and now rich foreigners are busily buying up the land from the government owners and ousting the residents to develop luxury resorts. We heard Rabbit Island had been bought - In five years time there'll probably be a Starbucks on it.

Next stop was Siem Reap (translation: Thai defeat) - gateway town for Angkor temples. Angkor Wat, just one of many, is the mother of all temples: the biggest religious building in the world...

One of the biggest tourist attractions in Asia, it was certainly swarming with tourists, of every kind. We were suddenly indistinguishable from all the package tourists from Germany staying in 5 star hotels - it felt strange after battling our way independently through China.

One of the looted heads at the Angkor temples is replaced

I won't bore people with descriptions of the temples, suffice to say they're very impressive and that it's worth spending a bit more time in the area to see some of the minor temples. We cycled around on the second day there and saw some of the more obscure temples on our 35km circuit. Each temple, no matter how remote comes with an accompaniment of chanting children who speak excellent English but sadly, can't read: "What's your name?" "Where do you come from?"

Around the temples Steve was wearing his Tiger Beer t-shirt and it meant he was an easy target for the prepubescent salespeople: "Maybe later you buy something from me sir? I remember you, Tiger Beer..." and they do... and Steve more often than not caved and bought from them. It would take a very hard-hearted person to refuse when you are bombarded with small children with a look of desperation in their eyes trying to sell t shirts and scarves to you at every single temple. But it's very sad that literacy in Cambodia is still only around 70% 30 years after the Khmer Rouge tried to eliminate anyone with education - and the temple kids are too busy hawking to tourists to go to school.


The carved heads at Bayon temple

I really wanted to visit Preah Vihear, a remote temple near the Thai border, but about 2 weeks ago the site was declared an UNESCO world heritage site and Thailand suddenly decided that it belonged to them, not Cambodia (it used to be in Thai territory once upon a time), and started massing their troops on the border, so with the Cambodian election results also looming, not wanting to end up in the firing line we continued west to the Thai border.

Our Driver and Guide display ink-marked fingers post voting on Election day

Into Cambodia by Steve

The end of Vietnam

Our last days in Vietnam were spent in Ho Chi Minh City. As Jo mentioned in the last blog we nearly didn't get there as the bus drove off while we having lunch and had to be flagged down. It was the height of my stress in Vietnam, I felt a breakdown coming. It's a good job I was ill at the time of the last blog posting otherwise Vietnam buses would really have got it!

We did absolutely no favours to our fragile state of mind by staying in the most depressing hotel room you can imagine. I'm not sure why I did not turn and run when I saw it. A musty smell, checkerboard floor, lurid sheets and mosquitoes. I was ill and this room didn't help. It was like staying in a doss house.

The next day we went to the Cu Chi Tunnels. I had really been looking forward to this, and for those who don't know, and I wouldn't expect you to, the Vietnamese Communists lived and fought in these tunnels during the war with America. They were vital to frustrating the Americans for 4 or 5 years, and it was from the tunnels that the Communists launched the Tet Offensive which signalled the beginning of the end of American involvement in Vietnam. And they buried a tank down there!!!

Our tour guide for the tunnels was Mr Binh. He had fought alongside the Americans, so was on the other side to the Vietnamese Communists. He loved the bus microphone. He told us lots of funny stories but there were times when you wished he'd sit down. He said everything we'd ever heard or read about the Vietnam war was wrong, that his was the sole truth, and then proceeded to tell it just like the guidebook. It was confusing hearing the story from a Vietnamese who had fought with the Americans.

As we went around the ground above the tunnels, in the distance you could hear the machine guns of the firing range, which made it all a bit surreal, almost as if you could imagine what it might have been like at the time. Unfortunately we were to get pretty close to that firing range, it was an optional extra, so we had to sit next to it for 25 minutes while someone let loose an AK-47. I couldn't believe how loud it was. Apparently it is people from countries with gun laws that do the firing range. Americans aren't interested.

At last, after seeing various other tunnel displays, we got to go in one. They went down quite a way, 8 or 9 feet. They were well lit and you could hear people in front and behind, but I can imagine it would have been terrifying on your own with just a flashlight. The maximum you could go was 100 metres, any further, said Mr Binh, and you would come to the booby trap. I'm not sure if this was still working or not. Best not to go beyond 100 metres.

Back on the bus, Mr Binh stands up and starts talking again. He looks drunk. He wants to tell us about his life. We then get a pretty sad story about him having to flee Vietnam when the Communists took Ho Chi Minh City, but he loves his country, so he came back, they called him a war criminal and put him in prison for 4 years, then when he got out no-one would give him a job so he had to work in the market and ride a bicycle taxi with a mask on so no-one would recognize him, then he got this job but didn't make much money, and he doesn't get a pension, but his son would look after him, he was a good boy, a doctor, and did he tell us he loved his country and he hoped we would never have war in our country...and then we dived off the bus. A pretty uncomfortable situation, and we wondered if it was genuine, it did look it, and we found out later that the victorious Communists treated the Southern Vietnamese pretty bad. We went to the War Remnants Museum which was filled with American war stuff and some pretty harrowing stuff which I won't go into. Then I collapsed into bed at 5pm but didn't get any peace as it sounded like the kids were going up and down the stair in flippers.

Up the Mekong River into Cambodia
I was still ill but managed somehow to get up at 6am. It was the 17th July and we had booked the boat to Cambodia, so I figured, well, a couple of hours on the bus to the nearest boat and then get off the next day in Cambodia. I could manage that. I was to be proved very wrong.

It didn't start particularly well. At the hotel we manhandled our bags onto a bus which drove us 200 metres to a coach. We got on this and then crawled for hours through HCMC finally arriving at My Tho and the boat. We were told we would see this bus again and to leave any stuff we wanted, I must have missed something because we never saw that bus or the bag of snacks I left on it again. So we got on a boat and it went throught the floating market. We stopped and watched them making pop rice and coconut candy and the guide invited us to drink a revolting looking snake wine. We got back on the boat. They don't seem to do proper passenger piers in SE Asia and make getting on any kind of boat as difficult as possible, like some kind of test to humiliate the foreigners. This boat took us to the lunch spot, where a good row unfolded between the guide and two people he'd left behind in HCMC. After lunch we got on some rowing boats and were rowed down the river. We got off in a town, were reunited with our luggage minus anything you had left on the bus, then walked through the town, lugged our bags onto a bus and then drove for 5 minutes to an old house in the middle of a market where we were told we had one hour before the boat left. It then emerged that we would be in one big dorm on this boat, like a floating youth hostel. Jo got a bit worried about this as she had discarded her pyjamas some days ago. The boat arrived. They parked up and threw a plank across the water, this was how we were to get on it seemed. It was a relief to finally be on the main boat up the Mekong, no-one could make me change to another boat or walk any ridiculous plank until at least the morning. I got up in the night and went to the toilet. The Mekong was dark and silent and I shuddered to think if anyone would have heard if I accidentally slipped off the boat into the dark waters.

They woke us at 6am. They were then up to their old tricks of moving us around boats, at times it resembled the Grand Canal out there as little boats ferried us around. We sailed out to a fish farm. There, a man got very excited about feeding his fish who would thrash around in the not very deep wooden hole he was keeping them in. A completely underwhelming sight. Then we sailed on to a floating village where all the children subjected us to a full scale sales assault for little waffle biscuits. I was feeling better but a girl we had go to know, looked awful. I sympathised, there was nothing worse than having to clamber on and around these boats when everything aches and you're head feels like it weighs 100 tonnes. One wrong step and you're in the drink! We sailed on and got on another boat similar to the sleeper boat. There we did our Cambodian border paperwork. Cambodia felt a long, long way away. At about 11am we got off the boat with all our luggage and had lunch on the Vietnamese side of the border. A dog tried to chew the straps off a guy's rucksack. We then walked through a security check, presumably we were leaving Vietnam. But they weren't going to let us go that easy. The boat was parked up by a steep bank and they had thrown a plank across for us. So, with our bags, we had to slip down the steep bank, then wobble across the plank. Great fun. This boat was pretty scary. Wooden benches down the side, all the bags piled up the middle, and just endless streams of people getting on. Surely they wouldn't make us sit on this for 3 hours? But after getting our visas stamped by Cambodian immigration, they did, and it was more than 3 hours.

So we sailed up the Mekong to Phnom Phen, capital of Cambodia. People washed cows in the river. Children waved from the banks. Golden temples rose up. Things were looking better already. The feeling didn't last long, as they shoe-horned us and our bags into tiny minibuses for the 2 hour drive to PP. It started raining heavily, then it got dark. Lots of Cambodians seemed to have a death wish, weaving through the traffic on their motorbikes without any lights.

We had arrived in Phnom Phen. I had expected to get on a boat in Vietnam and get off in Cambodia. In reality it took 1 minibus, 2 buses, 1 coach, 9 boats and a rowing boat. We had seen coconut candy and pop rice being made, been invited to drink snake wine, seen a man feeding his fish, seen a row, been touted by small children, slept on a floating youth hostel, had walked numerous planks. And, of course, seen lots of Mekong River.

Refugees on the buses

The arty shot - Tiger Balm sold by hawkers on the beach in Hoi An

I'm afraid this is going to turn into a bit of a moan... but Steve says it makes things more entertaining - so we'll see...

I don't think two weeks was enough time to do Vietnam, given our need to travel overland to Cambodia. We found ourselves as virtual refugees, having spent a maximum of two nights in any one place, and that only three times. Despite our best efforts we couldn't get onto the railway system at all.

I don't know whether we've had bad luck, not given Vietnam a proper go or just not had enough time here. We're both looking forward to leaving after two weeks of more or less constant annoyance, disappointment and illness.

Perhaps our experiences can be summed up by the bus journeys we've taken (NB all our travel in Vietnam has been by bus or for short distances, motorbike taxi). Steve would describe this in a much funnier way but he's currently in bed with one ailment or another (more on that later) so I'll try my best.

The first bus from Hanoi to Ninh Binh I've already described as taking an hour to exit the station due to lack of bus station management, as far as I can see.

The second bus was a sleeper bus run for tourists (The Open Bus). It ran overnight. We were ushered on board and our berths pointed out. They were top bunks so I put my bag on the bunk and contemplated how to climb up for approximately 3 seconds, but before I had a chance to climb the attendant returned and angrily told me to climb up NOW. Later, at a 2am stop, after shivering under the icy air con in our shorts and t shirt Steve dared to get off the bus and ask to get his bag from under the bus so he could retrieve a fleece. On the bus I could hear the standoff. "I want my bag!" he said repeatedly as they acted dumb to obvious sign language. Then "What are you going to do? Drive off?" Eventually the driver realised he'd met his match and Steve got his wish.

Then we took a bus from Danang on the coast to Kon Tum, in the Highlands. The scenery was great, climbing through paddy fields and forest. The only buses to Kon Tum from Danang are minibuses. In the UK it would be a 16 seater, including the driver, allowing an aisle for accessing the rear seats. In Vietnam they fold down seats in the aisle for greater capacity, allowing a total of 19 seats. On this journey 5 people were packed onto each 4 seat row, allowing a total of 23 people on board, plus 6 crates of cheeping chicks and assorted luggage. 3 guys were sat in the seats next to the chicks, I thought that meant they owned them, and they found the repeated use of the word "chick-gun" the funniest thing ever. But then they got off without the chicks so we never found out who owned them in the end - the bus company maybe! My neighbour (a mercifully skinny young guy) sat on me for 5 hours.

Gift-wrapped motorcycle tyres in Vietnam

In Kon Tum we were delighted to see a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig rooting around.

Vietnamese pot-bellied pig - spotted in Kon Tum

From Kon Tum we took the short bus to Quy Nhon where we hit the beach for the evening. It was untouristy and some students stopped to practise their English with us. The waves were cool too - probably my beach highlight in Vietnam. We went to the station to buy a rail ticket to Nha Trang or Ho Chi Minh city but were told there were none available whatsoever for two days! Even in China you can buy standing tickets on the trains and they certainly have no qualms about having people standing on minibuses so we were pretty bemused by this... so back on the buses...

Then came the bus journey from hell. From Quy Nhon to Nha Trang is about a 5 hour journey. We did it non-stop, with at one stage 30 people in the 16 seater minibus. As we set off with the conductor in the boot, and 5 people to each 4 person aisle making 23 passengers in total Steve said "At least we won't be stopping to pick people up." Famous last words. Not only did we stop to pick people up, we stopped to pick up luggage that hadn't arrived yet. At one point we waited for 20 minutes on the roadside with the engine running, all 28 passengers on the bus (we were not invited to exit) while the driver and conductor lounged around on the roadside waiting for some guy to turn up with a package they were evidently awaiting.




The bus journey from hell - at this point 30 people in the 16 seater

At no point in the 320km, 5 hour journey did we stop for a toilet break, a fact which given my condition was torment. A young couple in front of us vomited into bags then chucked the bags out of the window: no chance of stopping for that either.

At peak capacity we had:

• 3 people standing in the boot (max capacity = 0)
• 5 people on the back seat (max capacity = 4)
• 5 people on a middle seat (max capacity = 3)
• 5 people on another middle seat (max capacity = 3)
• 4 people on the front row (max capacity = 3)
• 3 people semi-standing hovering by door (max capacity = 0)
• 5 people in the front seat (including driver and conductor standing in driver seat) (max capacity = 3)

Luckily for us we were on the least crowded back row. I think the Vietnamese ushered us there to spare us the worst torment. The poor guys standing near the door (you can just see them to the right of the photo) couldn't even stand up straight.

On our final bus (so far) from Nha Trang to Ho Chi Minh City we stopped for lunch at Mui Ne and the bus started driving off without us after curtailing our lunch break. I had to run into the road to stop it.

The walking wallets of Vietnam - how tourists are seen

The other major problem we've had in Vietnam is sickness. Sparing everyone the gory details the usual travellers diarrhoea turned into something more serious in Nha Trang and I had to go to the doctor - fortunately he spoke good English and after tests diagnosed amoebic dysentery and salmonella. I'm drugged up to the eyeballs and have felt rotten for a week so far, and now Steve is bed-ridden too. I'm just hopeful he's only got a cold, not my nastiness. So we've done precious little exploring: at least three days have been spent feeling sorry for myself.

In Ho Chi Minh City we have braved the crowds and visited the Cu Chi tunnels which are well worth it - a network of 200km+ of small (1m high) tunnels carved out of clay by the Viet Cong and which sheltered them from US attack during the Vietnam War. You get to crouch-walk along the tunnels which is a claustrophobic experience, at one point you need to crawl and it's difficult to turn. It would be easy to panic, but it was a bit like being on a motorbike taxi: if you think too much about the fact you're on the back of a speeding motorcycle behind someone you don't know braving Vietnamese traffic that never gives way, wearing shorts and a t-shirt and a helmet that doesn't fit or cover your neck you'd panic: but you just have to get on with it.

A tight fit at the Cu Chi Tunnels. Good job I'd just had dysentery.

We're moving on tomorrow: The Mekong Delta and Cambodia beckon.

Onto the beaten path

Throughout China we were joking about the fact that even if we'd wanted to we couldn't get onto the beaten path no matter how hard we tried. There just weren't very many westerners in China at all so no matter where we went we were a bit of a novelty.

After the Dragon's Backbone came Yangshuo in Guangxi province, probably the number one tourist destination in China outside of Beijing and the Great Wall. As soon as we arrived we noticed the difference in attitude. We were met by a hotel tout for one thing. But most noticeable was the fact that almost no-one stared at us. Everywhere else in China we get curious glances and stares - in Yangshuo we just got salespeople trying to sell us things. Looking around the town, it was absolutely swarming with westerners, and not just adventurous backpacker types either. There were elderly Americans, family groups, wealthy tourists, as well as the obligatory party animals. We spent a night in a backpacker bar hanging out with all the bright young things playing beer pong. It involves throwing ping pong balls into glasses of beer (a very sophisticated game!) The owner of the hostel was playing with us. She's known as Monkey Jane, is only 25 and spends most evenings quaffing beer with the tourists. What a life....

We went to a cool cave in Yangshuo with an underground mud bath and mud slide (still finding bits of mud in my ears!) and an underground swimming pool, the first time we'd managed to swim outdoors in China since Dalian. The irony is that in these hot countries it can be very difficult to find somewhere to swim. When you are dripping with sweat and all you want to do is jump in the river, it's too polluted, or there's a dangerous current or something.

Yangshuo was a breath of fresh air to us, not least because we were able to buy western food for the first time. The very first thing we did after we arrived was go and order milkshakes and burgers. Funny, not food I would eat at home but somehow it's all you want after endless rice and noodles for weeks on end. They made valiant attempts at the food but somehow it wasn't quite right - the ham was a bit plasticy and the cheese a bit too gooey.

From China to Vietnam was an easy hop. We just got on a bus with a load of Chinese (mostly men) and filed across the border. We had to sign something to say we didn't have diarrhoea, nausea or any sickness.... I think there must be a lot of creative truth amongst travellers across that border....

Immediately we noticed four things about Vietnam: There are at least ten times as many motorcycles as in China, everyone wears helmets (they don't in China), everyone speaks English, and the food is better.

Our experiences in Vietnam are a bit of a mixed bag.
The Vietnamese Armada invade Halong Bay

Halong Bay was a big disappointment. It is a beautiful place (myriad karst pinnacles poking out of the sea) but it has become a victim of its own success with over 3 million visitors each year. I am not exaggerating to say that our boat was moored with 45 similar boats overnight, and the resultant oily slick on the water made swimming unappealing. We were ordered to bed at 10pm by the surly staff on the boat and in the morning we ran out of jam and were told there was no more.

Steve singing "Zombie" on the boat - went down a storm

Back in Hanoi we weren't allowed to store bags in the hotel (victims of other people's bad behaviour) and were ripped off by a taxi with a rigged meter (but what could we do but pay?) Our bus to Ninh Binh took literally an hour to exit the bus station due to bottlenecks and generally incompetent queuing behaviour. At Tam Coc (known as the Halong Bay of the rice paddies) ladies row boats with their feet! I will try to post a video on facebook of it. But they forced us to buy them drinks as "tips", subjected their captive audience to a sales pitch of handicrafts and then demanded a further tip. We refused to pay.
Some of the extortion artists around Ninh Binh

On the other hand the embalmed corpse of Ho Chi Minh was worth the queue. Very impressive considering he's been dead for over 30 years. We weren't allowed to dawdle and Steve was told to get his hands out of his pockets in the presence of the glorious leader.

We also enjoyed the water puppets in Hanoi (thanks for the recommendation Pete and Jane) - never seen anything quite like it and we spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out how it worked. A cyclo ride (a bike with two seats on the front) was also fun though hair raising as they just plough into junctions without a care for any other traffic. The driver enjoyed our shrieks of horror!


Steve and driver

Today was probably my Vietnamese highlight so far. We hired motorbikes (and drivers - too chicken to ride on our own given the crazy driving here) and went to Cuc Phuong National Park. The trip was beautiful, through rice paddies with people fishing and planting rice, pineapples for sale and a queue of ladies crossing a flooded path on bikes. In the park we visited a primate centre (lots of cute monkeys) and went for a guided walk through the rainforest. We needed a
Jo and Steve - sweaty and under leech attack in the rainforest

guide as the track was barely discernable and required scaling rocky outcrops, climbing fallen trees etc. It was pretty hot, humid and generally hard work and I came off badly, being subjected to a poisoned plant attack on my arm which the guide treated with another plant - much more effective than dock leaves - and also being attacked by mosquitoes and two leeches. They crawled right up my sock and had a good feed before dropping off - I never saw them or even felt them but they left two bleeding holes!

Vietnam is a real contrast to China. It is firmly on the beaten path but I get the impression it's a bit too beaten. It feels a bit jaded, like a constant stream of tourists has corrupted it. Children demanding money is a sad thing and something we never saw once in China. But apparently most of Asia is like this so I suppose we will have to get used to it.

We are now looking forward to Hoi An where you can get clothes made. I'm seriously tempted to ditch all the smelly gear and get a whole new wardrobe!

The Dragon's Backbone by Steve

28th June 2008





We did the easy walk from our hotel in Huaihua to the train station. The train was conveniently on platform one so no Chariots of Fire running this time. We'd had to buy sleeper tickets so got a bed for the day journey, so I stretched out and then felt guilty so went and joined Jo on her bunk. Liang Yong Xiang, coming back from university, marvelled at our game of Hangman. Jo was sneaky and got me with 'Juice', hard one that. We showed them the map of our trip and they were very impressed, but then, they had never been to Beijing or Shanghai let alone outside China. We talked about university costs and how 19% of young Chinese go to uni - that's quite a lot of students. His English was great but a slight mixup meant he thought we thought he was competing for China in the Olympic games at table tennis. Another guy took pity on our inability to visit Xian and presented me with a little Terracotta Warrior replica, then showed us his photos from Guilin, which included 5 versions of every event, just in case the first one wasn't quite right. They then taught us how to say toilet in Chinese properly.

Friends on the train.

We had forgotten the time and had to rush to get off when the train stopped at Sanjiang. I ran down the corridor with shouts of 'Toilet' in Chinese following me. Then I got to the door, and there was no platform! We had to jump down from the train onto the tracks and get a leg up on the platform. The Bristol Chinese Railway Fugitives. A man in a Pimp My Ride van with LCD TV built into the sun visor and controlled from the radio drove us to Sanjiang bus station through some great scenery.

The bus to Longshen was at about 330pm and so we had time to get some food. I was afraid to eat or drink too much just in case I got caught short on the bus. The bus journies have been a challenge to see how much food and drink I can restrict myself to for fear of wetting myself. Also, as the Chinese pointed out on the train, I can't say toilet right either so even if I needed it they may not understand in time.





We then got the bus to the Longji terraces, which is the name for the area in which are the two villages which comprise the Dragons Backbone Rice Terraces, Ping'An and Jinkeng. This bus was not a bus at all, it was a community lifeline used to carry the local people around and all the things they needed for work and living. People got on with huge bags of rice the size of small children. A man got on with a pair of chickens feet sticking out of a carrier bag. A band got on with a keyboard that went down the aisle of the bus, and 2 guitars. Not sure who they were but if there's a band out there called Dragons Backbone you saw it here first. A woman got on and singlehandedly managed to fill the entire front half of the bus with buckets of stuff. We stopped at a sawmill, the driver tooted, and a man chucked a big bag into the van, presumably for onward delivery. A woman hailed her friend in a shop and she bought out a bag of food for her. And all this was done with much smiling and cooperation even if you did have to sit on a bag of rice for 90 minutes.





The road followed the river and the scenery was great. We drove through a waterfall, first time I've done that on a bus, and round landslides. Past houses literally build on the edge of the cliff and supported by concrete pillars.





We got to the end of the road and watched in horror and amusement as a group of 5ft women with wicker backpacks competed for the honour of lugging our bags the 25 minute walk up the hill to our accomodation. It was like going backpacking with my Nana. They carried our bags up to our rooms and then held us hostage while they piled mountains of woven gear on to the bed from the wicker backpacks. They would only go when I had bought a silly hat and Jo a belt, and even then we had to tell them to hop it.

The Little Nanas




As we were choosing dinner an awful sound came from outside, like a cat being tortured. The noise disappeared, then a man walked in holding a chicken by its wings, and it was this chicken making that awful sound. It all got a bit distressing so I had to gesticulate for him to take it outside. He didn't seem bothered. There were lots of insects in the room so it was like sleeping in the Insect House at the zoo, but at least they're not harmful.





29 June 2008

We set off from Da Zie at 930 to walk through the Backbone terraces. As we were enjoying the solitude a mere 15 minutes after setting off, a Chinese tour group of about 40 people appeared, led by a man waving an enormous Chinese Flag. It was like being on a Communist March through the terraces with a leisure branch of the Red Army.


Walking with the Red Army

It was boiling hot. The terraces were a treat to walk through, the path running right through them, friendly locals always with a Hello in English and/or Chinese. Streams, waterfalls and great views. There are many other rice terraces in South China but this is the biggest concentration of them.

The money shot

A dog joined us for part of the walk just as the Chinese left us. We had some bizarre ice lollies on the way, sweetcorn and rice pudding. We arrived in Ping'an at about 3pm and caught the bus back. We watched the sky turn pink over the terraces just before night fell. As we turned off the light to go to sleep, Jo made friends with a big flying beetle who took a shine to her new pyjamas.