Last Words

Internet time is low, so I'll conclude my blog very, well, boring like.

I spent several hours in Tokyo today, or more actually a burb of Tokyo. It was charming, like Asia meets Europe. Japan is so much more extic then most Asian countries. It definitely has culture. It's also clean and everything is in Japanese only- no English.

But I shopped and walked the streets and saw a temple. I saw a dude cutting up live, squirmy fish to make into sushi, then subsequently had some. Yum!

It's so freakin' expensive in Japan.

Time to catch the last flight.

I have to jet...see you all soon.

Just When I Thought the Adventures Were Over...

Famous last words said by yours truly last night over dinner:
"What a great trip! And we've had some mishaps, but on the whole everything has turned out beautifully. I always expect at least one expensive mishap when I travel, but other than a stolen motorcycle mirror that set me bck $10, there was nothing!"

I should have kept my mouth shut, I thought this afternoon at about 3:00pm when I was sweating bullets, not from the heat, but from the fear of missing my flight, which would be a very expensive mishap for me.

Let me backtrack.

Today was supposed to be uneventful. It was easy: Wake up. Get on bus. Drive to Thailand border for 5 hours. Get on other bus for 5 hours to Bangkok. Taxi to airport for 1 hour. Catch flight to Tokyo at midnight.

We were supposed to be picked up at our hotel at 7am.

The bus was supposed to leave at 7:30am and arrive at about 5:30pm. Lots of time, right? After 2 bus switches, we finally got loaded on the final bus at 9:30am. 2 hours late. Ouch. And this bus was in terrible shape.

To add insult to injury, there was no undercarriage. This means that all our back packs got crammed in the back. There was way too much luggage so they just crammed it in the isles! They told us to get in, and we had to hop over the seats to sit down!

And they crammed 35 people on the bus. They put a plastic lawn chair next to the driver and had one guy sit there!

I got stuck at the very back, in the aisle, squashed between 4 people, no leg room because of the luggage on the floor, and no place to rest my head because of the luggage on the back sticking out.

After 5 minutes, we stopped for gas.

The A/C was broken.

After 10 minutes we stopped on the side of the road for 15 minutes for no foreseeable reason! Of course, we cannot communicate with the bus driver to see what the issue is. So we just sat and sweat and sweat some more.

The roads were terrible. Not even paved!

We were insufferably hot and sweaty, crammed in like sardines.

As we bumped along, the luggage fell on our heads with the extra bad bumps.

We drove for 2 hours and came to a halt because they were fixing a bridge! All traffic was stopped. We all got out like herded cattle (hopping over all the seats because of the luggage in the aisles) and they were welding this bridge! Unbelievable!

Fortunately it was only about 1/2 an hour. But things were getting ridiculously delayed, and I was worried about my flight. You never know what kind of time lapses customs will bring.

The bridge was finally fixed and we breathed a sigh of relief as we got over it alive. we crept along on the unpaved roads, through the potholes, and welcomed the breeze from the open windows.

But there was so much dust, so we were getting filthy with the open windows. By the time we stopped for lunch, all the bags and our clothes and skin had a film of red dust over it. Then a truck spraying water drove by and we all got wet as it hosed us through the open windows, unintentionally.

After the 45 minute lunch break, I started doing the math and I was getting very scared that I wouldn't make my flight. What a stressful feeling, sitting in the bus, sweating, unable to stretch my legs or lean my head back, every so often putting back a fallen bag, thinking that I might miss my flight.

But I threw some positive energy on the situation after I was fretting myself into a frenzy and things changed drastically.

Customs went smoothly. We switched to a gorgeous double decker bus at the border. It had working A/C. Best of all, Kevin talked to the boss there and explained my potential flight dilemma, and they agreed to drop me off near the airport, thus saving me an hour! (The Bangkok airport is far away from the city)

Getting to Thailand was surprisingly soothing, in part because it was slightly familiar, and more so because it's so developed compared to the countries we've been in! I do love Thailand.

I was a little worried about the bus dropping me off. Flashbacks of Lynae and I's broken cab en route to the airport last year and being stuck on the 6 lane highway with all our luggage caused me some concern. After all, no empty cabs go to the airport- they only bring people there.

When the bus pulled over for me (the driver warned me) I was dismayed when the door opened and I saw I was on the side of the 6 lane highway. But a bus worked helped me with my luggage and lead me behind the bus...where there was a cab waiting for me. They had called him for me! What a great turn of events.

So everything worked out, but man, NEVER take a bus from Siem Reap, Cambodia, to the Bangkok border. And I know this entry is not written very well, but I'm in a bit of a hurry here.

One more day of adventures in Tokyo...

I'm Dreaming of a Scorching Christmas

I woke up at 4:30am this morning, Christmas morning. It was not to see what Santa brought me for Christmas, either. This morning I was privileged enough to see the sun rise over Angkor Watt, the most famous temple in the world; a historical landmark so awesome that it has been the subject of books, text books, documentaries and scholars.

Let me back up a little. It’s Christmas Day. There’s no red and white decorations. No twinkling lights. Certainly no snow. It’s business as usual here in Cambodia with the exception of the occasional Santa hat balanced on a waiter’s head or a rare tattered sign stating “Merry Christmas!!!” (I suspect that they have not yet realized how politically incorrect they are. What would Buddha say about this Christian greeting!) In fairness to our hotel, they gave Christmas decorations a valiant, albeit rare, effort by resurrecting about a hundred balloons on strings in front of the hotel. Balloons for Christmas. Hmmm. That’s a new one.

I am sitting here, sweating, enjoying the occasional reprise from the wimpy fan that happens to blow my way every so often, listening to the restaurant stereo that toggles between Top 40 American hip hop and Bob Marley. Beats cheesy Christmas carols by a mile (depending of course on which Top 40 song is playing).

And while I am sad to have abandoned my family again for Christmas, I wish more that they were here then I was there. That would probably just about make this Christmas perfect. So mom, dad, Lynae, Hayden, Mike, (not Josh- I’m ignoring you right back) Grandma, Uncle Rob & Ron, Aunt Debb & Selene, and families...here’s a personal Merry Christmas, I love you, miss you, we’re thinking of you...you know, all that jazz.

For Christmas Eve last night I treated myself to a lobster dinner and 2 glasses of Cambodian wine. It was ironically enough the best meal I have had in Asia thus far, all for the total price of $7.50. Delicious! I’d take lobster over turkey any day. I could definitely get used to Christmas in this climate very easily.

But back to Angkor Watt. It’s simply mind boggling. It’s completely unbelievable to see what human beings built 1000 years ago without the technology we have today. These temples are huge and ornate and so numerous... I won’t bore you with the details. Google it if you’re interested in more info on the temples themselves. Instead I will be generous with the picture posting.

Since Angkor Watt is massive, so we hired a tuk-tuk for the day to take us around. It was amazing to see the sun rise (first sunrise I have gotten up for in years). I mean, these dudes designed and built this particular temple with a lake in front of it so that the sunrise would always be spectacular and reflect in the lake.

One of the temples has massive tree roots growing all through and around it, further destroying it. It’s incredible to see. We even saw a portion of a temple where a scene from “Tomb Raider” was filmed.


We climbed one of the temples to the top. The problem with the steps leading up is that Buddhism demands that you bow down to Buddha in the temples. They accomplish this by building stairs so steep you have to hunch over to climb them, thus bowing. These steep stairs are therefore a treacherous climb to the top. It was fun, but man, just another potential death trap here in Asia.

Speaking of death traps, we saw some local children playing in one of the temples. They were giggling and squealing and playing tag and running around. I’m not an overly safety conscious person, but I thought to myself, “Jeepers, those kids are playing in all these big, heavy stones with 10ft drops. That can’t be safe.”


Within five minutes I heard a clunk and then some crying. One adorable little girl had fallen from about a 10ft ledge and hit her head on a rock. Kevin helped clean her up until her mom came. All day he has felt bad for her. “She was a mess,” he said. He thinks she’ll be okay, but she was pretty banged up. Her mother was operating a pineapple stand nearby so we were concerned that she wasn’t going to get the medical attention she needed. With the size of the goose egg on her head, it could only mean a nasty concussion.


Other than that, all day we tried dodging literally hundreds of peddlers trying to sell us the same stuff, but we did interact with the locals a bit more and have warmed up to them. Once we told them we didn’t want their stuff, we were able to ask them a little more about their lives and culture. It was fun.

Ok, I am way too hot to think here. Tomorrow we catch a bus to Bangkok and part ways. So sad. Then a day in Tokyo for me and back to the cold. Hmph.

Such a Good Day

We caught the bus and the ride back to Phnom Penh was uneventful this time, thankfully.

Dismantling the bus, however, was eventful. There were so many tuk-tuk drivers and motorcycle taxi drivers clamouring for our business that they physically grabbed on to our arms and got in our face and were outrageously persistent. It was almost scary. Needless to say, we opted to walk. As a result, finding a guesthouse was challenging. This is when backpacking has it lows- when you’re toting around way too much cargo, and dragging a heavy briefcase to boot, trying to communicate with people that you are looking for a place to sleep. Of course, as we found some, they were full, others were trying to rip us off, and all we wanted was a place to crash.

But we found a hotel, after some frustration. We’re paying a little more than we’re used to ($5 each) but it’s much nicer than some of the places we’ve been holed up in.

Cambodia is tough at times. The poverty here is glaring, and the locals have no shame in begging, sending their children out in the heat to sell things, or worse, sending their children to beg. I always have a hard time in situations like these- I want to be giving, but I can’t possibly solve all of Cambodia’s problems by giving people money. Also, travel gurus such as Lonely Planet authors discourage giving begging children money, as it just rewards their parents for exploiting their children. Still, it’s sometimes uncomfortable walking around and getting so harassed. This is the first country I’ve encountered in Asia where the locals are so persistent with selling (they will enter a restaurant and ask you to buy things like books as you’re eating- I can’t possibly be weighed down with anything more!) and begging, and sometimes it's hard to resolve my role in society.

The other problem with this is that it generally cultivates a feeling of mistrust. I feel more guarded and suspicious and unsafe in general. Normally I enjoy fraternizing with the locals in whatever way we can given the language barriers, but here I find I’m automatically suspicious, and I hate feeling that way.

Anyway, on to better topics. Kevin and I had a great day today! Actually, on a sad note, poor Meaghan was bedridden all day- I guess it was her turn to catch the flu. Fortunately we are 2 nights in the same hotel (a rarity) so she had a bed to sleep in all day. Still, it’s not fun when you’re travelling and sick...

Anyway, Kevin and I rented a couple more Baja 250’s for the day! We wanted to go to the Killing Fields, and set off with a little map. It was only 15 km away and took us about 2 hours. We got lost. Trying to communicate where you want to go, an asking where you want to go, to locals who don’t speak English is almost impossible! Every time we pulled up to someone and talked, they would giggle and shake their heads and say, in rather perfect English, “I do not speak English.”

Once again I don’t think they locals are used to seeing white people tackle their crazy traffic, and especially a girl on a bike. The stares were unbelievable. At an intersection, surrounded by 50 bikes, all I saw were eyes staring. It’s unnerving! Kevin did comment that I stuck out like a sore thumb as I'm tall to begin with, and my bike seat was extra high as well. He said I was easy to spot a mile away, like a giraffe.

I know I’m probably going on too much about the traffic here, and I certainly don’t write about this to scare the parents back home. It just floors me every time. We realized today that the only way you could turn left on a busy street was to take a sharp left, so you are in the right lane, going AGAINST traffic. Then, as soon as you can, merge into the proper lane. Its nuts! We didn’t have helmets because they just don’t wear them here- the bike rental shops don't have them. I have to admit that when I handed my bike back in, both me and the machine intact, I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe we’re crazy to drive in these streets, but it’s been a big part of my experience here.

We finally found the Killing Fields. The roads weren’t paved and it was a bumpy, dusty ride there. Some of the dust kicked up by passing cars was outrageous, and removed all visibility. We were completely filthy by the time we arrived! There were no signs marking directions to the monument either. We did find it, bumping along on our Bajas, having a blast, sweat pouring down our heads. It’s very hot here, but I would never dare complain.

The Killing Fields. Wow. The site that marks genocide where 18,000 people (between 1975-1978) were mass killed by the Communist regime Khmer Rouge. There was a temple full of skulls of the people who had died. It sounds gruesome, and it is, but it definitely makes you think a little more about the people that died. What were their personalities like? Occupations?


Other than the skulls, there were mostly signs explaining the genocide, as well as an aquarium of bones. Some of the signs marked mass graves, while others pointed to the clothing of children who had so cruelly been killed before their time, or a tree that held a loudspeaker to magnify the sounds of those being tortured.

The whole place was ironically peaceful in a way. I felt the expected emotions: sadness, disbelief, sickened... but perplexity was perhaps the most apparent feeling I had. How on earth could human beings treat each other like this? I just don’t get it. This, as well as the Vietnam war, happened within the last 30-40 years. It’s awful what humans are capable of!

After that sobering visit, Kevin and I went off-roading. Well, we call it off-roading, but really it was a small road that locals actually use to get from point A to point B. The road might as well have been cross country ski moguls, it was that bad. We had a blast, though! We found a deserted field (the terrain here is more like the desert then the jungles, so it’s quite flat) and just let out on the throttle, while the locals gathered around to watch. It was such a good day today. We spent hours on the bikes just baking in the heat, guiltily enjoying the feeling of the wind whipping through our hair, uninhibited by helmets.

Tomorrow morning we leave for the last leg of our journey- Siam Reap, home to Angkor Watt, a site so famous it was recently a contender for one of the 7 Wonders of the World...

On the Beach in Cambodia

I've been sleeping so much lately! I guess I'm getting a vacation from my vacation. But I do want to keep blogging, selfishly for my own recap of events when I'm old and gray, so this morning I typed up our tales of our trip to Cambodia.

The morning we were to leave Vietnam, I opened one eye and marvelled that I was awake before anyone else. Remembering that we had 7am bus tickets to Cambodia and therefore had set the alarm for 5:30am, I was perplexed that I was up before the dreadfully early alarm.

Wait a minute, I thought. There’s no way it’s earlier than 5:30. I checked my watch in a hurry and yelled in a panic, “guys, it’s after 6! The alarm didn’t go off.”

It was a mad dash in the room. Packing the backpacks takes time, and so does sharing a bathroom. Kevin determined that the hydro had gone out that night, causing the laptop to die, and therefore unable to fulfil its alarm clock duties. Power outages are somewhat typical around these parts, but normally they don't last long enough for laptop batteries to die.

But we made it with enough time to cram some “omelets to go” down our throats as we sat on the curb.

The bus was amazing. I mean, for $12 for a 6 hour ride, we expected it to be typical Asia- old, tattered, and rickety. Not so. It was really nice, and we even had our own stewardess who handed out water and snacks!

We breezed through customs and the VISA application process, which was a treat considering that it took us hours to get through Laos customs, and well, you know the trouble we had in Vietnam. This was so seamless, and before we knew it, we were in Cambodia. It’s like Laos- certainly not as developed as Vietnam.

We decided once we got to Phnom Penh (the capital city) that we were in need of some R&R. After all, we have been keeping a gruelling pace to see everything we want to in only a month. Enamoured with the bus company who had a bus leaving in just one hour for the coast, we decided it was time to hit the beach and subsequently purchased tickets for the 4 hour drive.

Kevin ran off to find an ATM to get some local currency. Getting money is easy in Asia- just stick your card in an ATM and voila! the local currency gets spit out of the machine. The banking service fees kill you for this privilege, but there’s not much alternative, and this way you don’t have to carry massive amounts of cash if you happen to get ripped off. They rarely take credit cards here- they like cold, hard cash, baby.

We told Kevin to be back at 2:15 as the bus left at 2:30. By 2:25 there was still no sign of Kevin, and we were getting worried. By 2:30 we were very anxious, especially as the bus was packed with people, ready to go. The bus company said, “Do not worry. We will wait for moment.”

2:40 the bus company had us hire a tuk-tuk to drive around the city and look for Kevin. Oddly, they didn’t want us to go with the tuk-tuk driver. I guess they just said, “look for some lost white guy.”

2:42 they asked if Meaghan and I would consider going by ourselves and he could take the bus the next morning. “Absolutely not,” we replied. “Can we change our tickets?” We asked. “No,” he said firmly.

2:45 they said they had to go. Our luggage had been shoved first in the bottom of the bus, so it was a bit of a gong show getting it back out. A lot of bags had to come out to get to ours. I didn’t miss the exasperation in the tones or faces of the bus workers. I wonder what they were saying in Cambodian. I did feel bad. I mean, we had a full bus of people we were holding up.

Sadly, the bus pulled away as Meaghan and I sat outside, surrounded with our backpacks, waiting for Kevin and an explanation, trying not to be too disappointed or annoyed.

I went in to change the tickets. The problem is that the change affected our return tickets, and additional tickets we had purchased to get to Siam Reap. I was changing them all, giving them the money they demanded for this, and looked out the window to see Kevin approaching.

The ticket office workers saw him as well; there was animated foreign gibber and they all got up excitedly, made cell phone calls and told me, “hurry, hurry!”

With speed that would make them a contender for the Olympics, they pulled up a van, shoved our stuff in, and said, “hurry! We catch the bus.”

And we did. This van zig zagged through traffic, Asia style, and delivered us to the bus that happened to be waiting on the side of the road for us when we got there. Yup, we had managed to hold up an entire bus of people for almost ½ hour. Talk about the walk of shame to the back of the bus as we took our seats.

Apparently some do-gooder offered to take Kevin to a bank machine, which wouldn’t spit out Cambodian currency, so he took him to another and another. Kevin told him he had to go to the bus station, and the driver took him to the ticketing station, which was the wrong one. The driver kept taking him to the wrong bus stations, and of course, it’s always hard to communicate in these countries.

It was a close call, but we made it.

When we got to Sihanoukville, our destination, we were assaulted by peddlers wanting to give us rides to hostels. I wasn’t in the mood for this at that point, but Meaghan worked out an agreement with one of them. He would take us around for a dollar to find a hostel that we were happy with.

“Ok,” I said, my back breaking from my pack. “Let’s do it.”

He led us to the taxi- which happened to be 3 scooters!

“Oh no, no, no,” I laughed. “This backpack is huge and weighs 40lbs, and I have this briefcase, which also weighs a lot and is pretty cumbersome.”

“No problem,” he said.

He pulled off my backpack and put it in front of him, in between him and the steering system. He was so short and it was so tall I am sure visibility was poor. He put the briefcase behind him and told me to get behind it. Well, I looked like an ostrich straddling that thing, my knees jutting way out into traffic. We teetered away, the others behind me on equally loaded scooters. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. As we got on the road, I felt the wind in my hair and remembered how much I love that feeling.

Kevin’s ride pulled up beside me. “Feel safe?”” He laughed. As soon as I saw him, I realized why the wind felt so good in my hair.

“They don’t wear helmets here, eh?” I said, as I looked at the seas of black heads with no helmets.

“Guess not,” He replied.

As we were driving along, me not having a lot of seat space due to the briefcase jammed between us, and him having the backpack right in front of him, we dodged and swerved other vehicles, Asia style. I was just thinking, “If only my poor mother saw us right now, she would have a heart attack...” when I heard a silly Asian song and realized with wide eyes what it was as my driver reached in his breast pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

“Allo?” He said, one hand to his ear, the other on the steering shaft.

He jibbered on in a foreign language. Kevin’s driver passed us again and Kevin just shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of the scene before him. I held my breath.

But we survived, once again.

They took us to a bar/restaurant/guesthouse directly on the beach. The restaurant was totally cool; big paupazon chairs littered the place and a sound system played some cool trancy music. The lighting cast a cozy ambience, and you could hear the waves of the ocean lapping the shore as there were no walls- just a roof for sun/rain coverage.

“Sold!” We said.

“Look at the room first,” the guy suggested (and we know better. but once in awhile get caught up in the moment and forget).

“I’d pay more for this place,” Meaghan said as Kevin went off to look at the room.

Kevin reported: “The good news is it’s only $4 per night for 3 of us. The bad news is, you get what you pay for. It’s pretty bad.”

But it had been a long day and we were tired. The room was pretty bad, but not worse than some of our accommodations, and the thought of staying on the ocean with such a cool restaurant to lounge around in was appealing, so we took it.

We lounged around in the paupazon chairs that night, eating fresh fruit and drinking tia mias, and listening to the ocean. We crashed early in our mosquito nets- I didn’t even survive an episode of The Office—and woke up 11 hours later.

Yesterday we didn’t do anything but laze around in the sun and eat and read and nap. At one point Meaghan and Dana and I got pedicures for $2.50 each. That evening we wandered down the coast and found a restaurant literally on the beach- they were grilling kebabs and the tables and chairs were jammed in the sand—and ate a delicious dinner.

We nursed our pink skin, crashed early again (so much sleeping here- I must have needed it!) and today we have another good half day on the beach, but due to time constraints, we have to catch the bus back to Phnom Penh this afternoon. It’s been an amazing couple of days. I love the sun and the beach!

The Tumultuous Part of Vietnam

I think most would agree that the Vietnam War put Vietnam on the map, sadly so. We've all seen the movies and heard the stories; after all, as far as wars go, it's one of the more recent ones. While Vietnam is not boasting these sordid tales, you simply cannot visit the country without paying due respects to the atrocities that happened here only decades ago.

We decided to visit The War Remnants Museum, formerly known as the Museum of Chinese and American War Crimes. The museum still has an accusatory feel, very unfavorable to Americans. Granted, they are far from innocent, but little is accused of their allies during that time, such as South Korea and Australia. Still, it was satisfactory to see some quotes from Robert McNamara, US Secretary of State at that time, basically repenting for the wrongs they did. But no amount of repenting can undo what was done.

The museum had American jets, choppers, and tanks outside, and mostly pictures inside. The pictures were horrific and uncensored: blown up bodies, crying children, heaps of dead people, and the most tragic: numerous images of victims of Agent Orange. As Meaghan said, "Some of these images will be with me for the rest of my life." They were gruesome and sobering. War is terrible and yet we still resort to it. There were mock chambers of the conditions of the concentration camps and guillotines, and newspaper and magazine covers of media coverage during that time. It was very educational and yet harrowing. Totally uncensored, it was not something you would learn in history class.


On to better topics. We got carted around Ho Chi Minh City in a bicycle contraption, ate at a cool restaurant, drank fresh coconut milk from the shells, and ironically bumped into some South African friends we had met in Halong Bay and hung out with them for a bit.

Now we're in Cambodia, after yet another slightly eventful travel story, but I'll save that for tomorrow. I'm getting eaten alive by mosquitos and I need to deal with them...

Bad Trains & Near Death Experiences

The overnight train ride back to Hanoi left much to be desired. It was noisy most of the night, and even Gravol didn’t drown out the Vietnamese prattle and bumps and jolts along the way. The worst was the wake up call. Half an hour before arriving (at 5am) they blasted this hideous Asian music that was comprised of a recorder and nasally, high pitched female voices singing goodness knows what. It was so ridiculously loud my iPod couldn’t even drown it out. Nails scratching on a chalkboard would have sounded more harmonious than that crap.

Needless to say, when we arrived and it was still dark, we were a little irritable and in no mood to deal with everyone trying to peddle us cabs and scooters and cheap trinket crap. (When the cab dropped us off, we stood on a street corner in the dark, laden with our backpacks and laptops and a guy tried to harass us to give us a ride on his scooter. Honestly! I know they can pack a lot of stuff on their scooters, but sometimes they defy all common sense.) Sometimes I miss the anonymity I get back home. Here, everyone either stares at our every move or pounces on us, begging us to buy things. It’s charming at times, but wears thin as time goes on.

It was bliss to be able to board a plane to Ho Chi Minh City in lieu of overnight buses and trains. Ho Chi Ming is the capital of the South, twice the size of Hanoi, formerly called Saigon before the North claimed victory in the war. Meaghan and I had a blast on the plane ride over; I had forgotten how nice it can be travelling with someone on an airplane. We used a splitter on our iPods and played ridiculous music from our youth, namely the Sister Act soundtrack and artists like dc Talk, and lip-synced and giggled while doing actions and bobbing our heads. Yes, everyone stared, no, we would never do that in North America, but we figure that they all stare anyway, so why not give them a bit of cannon fodder? It was the best plane ride ever!

And it’s hot here! More than 30 degrees. We have a room with A/C and I’m thrilled. I love the heat.

We’ve had a nice time here so far. We’ve enjoyed fresh fruit smoothies and more springrolls, played with our lives trying to cross the streets, shopped a local market for more stuff that we ponder the intricacies of getting home, but buy anyway, and contemplated our day tomorrow (still undetermined- do we stay in Vietnam longer or head to Cambodia?) Today there has been a lot of surmising that it’s hard to believe we’re heading into the last leg of our trip. Where does time go?

Anyway, one of the things I wanted to elaborate on was the traffic here. I mean, you hear it’s bad, but experiencing it and driving in it is quite another. I certainly do not profess to be an expert, but should you find yourself on a motorcycle in this neck of the woods anytime soon, here are some tips I have determined to help survive. Disclaimer: Your life is still in jeopardy, even when following these tips.

1. In North America, you look both ways, wait for traffic to clear, and then merge. In Asia, do not do this. Firstly, you will never get a clear space. Secondly, this concept is so foreign to them that they will honk incessantly at you, and you risk being rear ended. Simply glide into oncoming traffic. They will swerve around you with remarkable ability. Bear in mind that they expect the same adeptness from you when they cut out in front of you. And it happens often.
2. In North America people honk their horns when angry. Here, they honk to let you know they are passing you. Translation: everyone is always honking because they are always passing. Earplugs could help preserve your sanity.
3. Should you have the need to pass someone, be forewarned that as you’re passing, they also might be inclined to pass someone. So essentially, you’re passing someone who is passing someone else. Normally there is not enough road for this, and as you are the left most person being forced left further, chances are, you run the risk of a head on collision. You should be okay, however, because Asians are experts in swerving and dodging traffic. Most of the time. If it’s a big truck lumbering at you, kick up the throttle, brace yourself for his fog horn blasts at you, and hope for a narrow escape. If you have a free moment, you can give the guy you tried to pass who also decided to pass the finger. Actually, don’t. Never take a hand off the bike, because chances are you already need to perform another swerve and dodge technique.
4. Be aware that at any moment, someone could cut in front of you from a driveway, side street, or even on a left-hand turn. It’s not a matter of if, but when. Always keep one hand on the brakes.
5. When seeing this road madness, you will be tempted to marvel at a seemingly low casualty rate. While perhaps it is remarkable, realize that accidents do happen frequently. I have witnessed at least 4. They happen all the time.
6. If a truck is driving in the middle of the road, it is not advisable to pass on the right. This would make sense, since there is space and they seem to have no rules for passing anyway, and you won’t run the risk of a head-on collision into oncoming traffic, but in doing this you run a grave risk of being run off the road, a deadly prospect if you are in a scooter.
7. Passing someone around curves and bends is essential if you want to get anywhere. Simply speed up, close your eyes, and hope that their swerving abilities are as keen as they usually are if they happen to be coming around the bend the opposite way.
8. Do your helmet up so tight that it almost chokes you, because it will go flying off your head if you exceed 60.
9. Never underestimate how quickly livestock can run in front of you. Yes, even cows can run.
10. Asian construction is often poorly labelled. There are no workers directing traffic. Just try to get through it and pray your shocks will survive the lack of a road.
11. There is no clear cut way for roundabouts. Whether you go clockwise or counter-clockwise depends on where you want to turn. Just use the swerving and dodging techniques that you have been forced to learn so quickly. Sometimes it’s better just to close your eyes and hope for the best.
12. Don’t make fun of Asians wearing silly masks when driving. After one brief drive, your friends will laugh at you because you look like either like a chimney sweep or a black person. You will begin to see the need for these silly looking masks when you arrive at your destination absolutely filthy.

Vietnam with a European Twist

We survived the overnight train to Sapa, thanks to Gravol. Of course it was not a very deep sleep, nor long enough, but relatively uneventful, thankfully- especially as we were sharing a car with some Asians who were originally chatty with their cell phones.

We did the unthinkable: we rented scooters. Yes, the nightmares of our last
scooter/motorcycle rental horror story still haunt us nightly, but what better way to see a country then to get behind the wheel? Of course we would have preferred to rent real motorcycles, but Vietnam has laws that no one can have a bike bigger than 125cc’s, so a 110 scooter was all we were going to get. It was weak in comparison to the Baja, and I kept groping for the non-existent clutch, but I reminded myself that I was lucky to be on 2 wheels in the first place. I mean, in Canada I would be huddled in the 4 wheeled kind, cursing the weather...


Anyway, of course within 5 minutes of our journey, Meaghan’s scooter started leaking oil. We were tempted to push her and her scooter off a cliff, figuring she most definitely was Jonah and was harbouring some sinful deeds. Instead we exchanged her bike. I am pleased to report that was the end of the scooter nightmares. Phew.

We’re way up north- about 5 minutes from the Chinese border. To those of you who are jealous of us baking in the sun, your jealousy is wasted here as it’s only about 10 degrees.


We got a hostel for $1.34 per night, and it’s not bad. Quite nice, actually- complete with hot water and toilet paper. Practically 5 star compared to the train. We all chipped in for an extra $2 for a heater. No kidding. Friends who were just in Ho Chi Minh (the south of Vietnam, where we are headed next) advised us to pay extra for AC in Ho Chi Minh as the heat was simply unbearable. Here, we’re chilly.

Sapa is a cool town, kind of laid back with a definitively European feel, and we’re really enjoying it here. We’ve had some delicious food (which isn’t all that common thus far in Vietnam, springrolls aside) and a relaxing evening wandering around. I actually had a latte that put Starbucks to shame, a feat that I thought was impossible in Asia. My coffee addiction has never bothered me, but here it's been tough to feed at times and I've suffered a mild headache or two as a result. Serves me right, I suppose. Now as I sit here to recap the day, some tragically hopeless Asian karaoke from the bar next door has just started serenading me and I’m tempted to delete what I’ve written about the town being lovely and quaint with a European feel. The Asians and their music. It’s terrible when the voices are professional and on key. Add an off key karaoke singer, and it’s worse than an animal in heat.

Speaking of which, on our magnificent scooter ride through the mountains to a northern village, we saw some hilarious things. There was the pot bellied pig who lazily meandered across the road as we were approaching, her nursing belly literally getting a case of road rash. There was the ox that was pulling what looked like a skid with a couple plastic jugs on it down the road, being led by its master. The skid was just scraping the road. Wouldn’t wheels have made a more efficient system?
The topper was the scooters cargoing animals around. Get a load of this: a scooter was towing a cage with a live pig in it. Another scooter was carting around a mitful of chickens. I have no idea if they were dead or alive. And get this: a scooter was pulling a horse along! The man was driving, the woman on the back held the rope to the horse, and the poor thing was galloping along to keep up with the scooter. Peculiar!

The north is peppered with Hill Tribe people. They dress very ornately (translation: gaudy) and we often saw them working hard leading livestock around or selling things at the local market or cooking. It was very interesting to see, but they turned out to be a pain, always pestering us to buy the ugliest things we've ever seen, like pants that looked like they were made from your grandmother's old tablecloth! They even pestered us when we were eating in restaurants, so their charm wore off quickly.

Monday night we take the overnight train back to Hanoi, and the following day we snag a flight to Ho Chi Minh. Yes, be proud of us as we’re actually splurging on airline tickets. They were only $75 and we figure that we owe it to ourselves. We’ve had enough of the wretched trains and buses and we still need to get to Cambodia.

Our thoughts on Vietnam? We’re glad we came, although none of us would put it as a contender for our favourite country. Laos felt very laid back and had great food, where in Vietnam it’s much more developed and therefore more chaotic and the food has been a bit hit or miss- mostly miss. However, Vietnam is more culturally rich, as determined by the scooters toting animals, clothing, and markets here.

It's been very intersting, though. I mean, I've seen things that I figured I'd only ever see in pictures of National Geographic. How lucky I am to be travelling like this.

Snoozing on a Boat in Halong Bay

(Sorry, but if you can take a second to click on www.gamepillar.com that would be appreciated. I am just shamelessly trying to direct some traffic to this site to help someone out. A click is all I'm asking for, you don't have to read anything!)

Yay for relaxation! A couple days ago we boarded a minibus and were crammed in as tightly as the clothes in my backpack. The 4 hour drive was about as comfortable as some of the beds we've had to endure out here, but Halong Bay is amazing so it was totally worth it! Halong Bay is a picturesque part of Vietnam that boasts beautiful rock formations and islands. It is simply gorgeous and peaceful.

We boarded a boat that exceeded our expectations. I mean, we expect little here in the form of accommodations and bathrooms and even food. Spending a night on a boat was a sketchy prospect, but it's all in the name of experience, right?


The boat was so nice I almost expected Captain Jack Sparrow himself to greet us. There were about 15 of us whities- from Aussies to South Africans to fellow Canadians-- and we settled in on top of the boat very easily and lazed in the sun, read, talked, laughed, and shared travel horror stories (they were all enamoured with our "Road Trip from Hell" story). I have to admit that it was nice to connect with some people who were fluent in English and shared our culture. Lunch was delicious (Vietnamese know how to do Spring Rolls best, hand's down) and we got off at one point to trek through a cave, which was cool. The rest of the evening was spent eating, laughing, drinking local beer, and playing cards with our new friends, all on the boat. I must have been distracted by the doctor and lawyer I was playing cards with, both of whom were young and cute, because I lost. Hmph.


The rooms on the boat were great by Vietnamese standards, and I slept like I was dead. All in all, it was a great mix of fun and relaxation. (So mom, let your fears that I am not relaxing enough be alleviated!)

The next day they boated us to Cat Ba island for more relaxation and scenery. They organized a little "trek" as they called it, through the jungles. We determined it was what we would call a hike. It was lovely walking past banana trees with ripening bunches of bananas and mandarin orange trees.


But when we started to "trek"...good grief! It was more like mountain climbing! Up and up we went, steeper and steeper. In our parts of the world, you would have had to sign a disclaimer. You would have had to sworn near perfect health and not been permitted to go if you were 5lbs overweight, pregnant, or if your great great grandmother had a weak heart condition that could be deemed hereditary.

No such warnings in Asia! Just grab onto a bamboo tree and hoist yourself up over the steep rocks.


We arrived at the peak and the view was glorious. The "trek" was definitely worth it. There was this old dilapitated rusty apparatus that had stairs and stairs leading to a squeaky platform about a hundred feet up. The best part is that there was a sign at the bottom that warned, "5 persons only." The back of this sign said, "20 people only." Our tour guide said we should stick with the 5. "Or 6, or maybe 7," he added after the briefest of pauses. We climbed this danger mine and marvelled at the view and how rusty it was and obviously survived to talk about it.

Today was a lazy day again- a boat ride back to Halong Bay and another crammed bus ride back to Hanoi where I've concluded that near death experiences are now just a way of life when walking through this city.

Tonight we take an overnight train to Sapa. Travelling overnight is efficient- you preserve a day and don't need accommodations for the night. But the trade-off is steep: a poor night of sleep. If only getting from point A to B was not such a challenge for us humans!

But once again, we're still having a wonderful time, still getting along marvelously, and creating fantastic memories and meeting wonderful people whom we will probably never see again.

It's hard to believe my time away is more than 1/2 over.

Happy Hour in Laos

I saved this post for a rainy day, since too many of you have put the pressure on for a daily entry! We leave for a 3 day trek in Halong Bay today.

When we were in Vang Vien, we had a delicious Indian dinner (we are eating more Indian food here than Laos food. We just can't help it; we love it). We decided we needed a post dinner drink of mojitos. After all, the Lao people know how to make a mean mojito.

We went to a bar that was pumping Bob Marley. We read the menu, which was outside for all to look at at.

Some Lao dude that worked there came up to us and informed us that it was happy hour.

Happy hour! we thought in glee. We assumed we could now get our drinks for $.25 instead of $.50! To a bunch of dutch travellers on a budget, this was like manna from heaven.

We sat down and the dude brought us the Happy Hour Menu:


You'd think we were in Amsterdam!

(And while he informed us that this sort of stuff was legal, we found out after that it wasn't. Good thing we didn't order a mushroom pizza, or we might be in a Laos prison...)

Some Bumps Along the Way to Vietnam

We expected the 24 hour bus ride to Hanoi, Vietnam to be boring, long and uneventful. It was definitely long and boring, but certainly not uneventful.

The day we left Vientiane, I woke up with a touch of the flu. My head was about to explode, my body was achey, and my tummy was less than cooperative. The problem when you're travelling is that you just can't crawl into bed. Heck, you can't even make yourself a piece of toast. I managed to find a restaurant on the Mekong river with pillows that let you sprawl all over the ground. I ordered a mango juice and basically camped there for the day, reading and sleeping.

Hopping on a bus feeling this way was not a prospect I enjoyed. But what can you do? At 7:00pm we left. It was a bumpy ride until we stopped at 1:30am. Why weren't we moving?

Some Vietnamese guy who speaks English explained that customs in Vietnam didn't open until 7:00am, so we were camping here for the night.

Now this made no sense to us. Why wouldn't we have just left hours later and been spared the additional hours on a stagnant bus? You cannot get explanations to questions likes these in countries like these, so we accepted it and attempted to find the beds the Vietnamese guy told us we could buy for a dollar at this rest stop.

We know better than to buy rooms without looking first. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was the bus fumes, but be agreed to the dollar rooms and almost keeled over when we walked in.

I mean, we've slept in some bad places, but nothing topped this. It was a cement room with a cement floor and no roof really- you could hear everything going on outside. The bed was basically a cement block with a sheet on it. Once again beds were in short supply, so we had 3 to a bed. To call it "uncomfortable" would have been giving it more praise then it was worth. We didn't dare put our faces on the pillows, so did up our hoodies to sleep on them instead. To top it off, the roosters started crowing (my new pet peeve is crowing roosters. I thought they were supposed to crow at sunset, but here they go nuts in the middle of the night! I want to shoot them!) and there were some vicious stray dog fights going for hours. The yelping, wincing and barking was enough to drive anyone batty.

But time always passes, even in circumstances like these, and at 6am we drove to Vietnamese customs.

Just to let you know, Vietnam is one of rare countries where you need a VISA before you arrive. We all had this taken care of.

But Kevin's VISA -- which was issued around the same time as Dana, Ben, and Meaghan's in Bangkok -- said that the admission date was December 12, 2007. It was December 11.

We were nervous about this. Maybe it would be okay.

Customs was a gong show. The Vietnamese were very pushy and it was a free for all of shouting and showing their passports at the windows. We went to the window labelled, "Door for Foreigners" and handed the mean-looking, communist, non-English speaking men our passports.

And waited.

And waited. And waited.

An hour later, we were nervous. What could possibly be wrong? During this time, we sat on a bench. We saw a customs guy hoark on the floor, and then give Meaghan shit for having her feet on the seat.

Finally we realized what was wrong as we saw a generator and a cord going to the "Door for Foreigners" window. The power had gone out at customs and they couldn't process the passports! They were just recording the Vietnamese ones in a book by hand, but I guess that wasn't good enough for us.

I swear the generator ran out of gas at one point, because it stopped and took another half hour to get going again. But we did finally get called to the window. Our passports were stamped.

But Kevin was told that his VISA was not valid and he could not get in.

"Please," he pleaded. "They made a mistake on it."

"Ten dollars," he said. (Gotta love corruption in political systems.)

"They'll do it for ten bucks," Kevin announced to us. That was a mistake. The customs officer did not like Kevin broadcasting this corruption and defiantly shook his head.

"No. You cannot come."

We're all getting nervous. We still had a 12 hour bus ride to the destination. We had exited from Laos. We were essentially in no man's land.

Kevin begged and pleaded. They ignored him.

Meaghan pleaded. "My husband!" She said. "Take all my money!" She begged as she threw a mixture of kip and dollars at him. He didn't even look at her.

She started to cry.

It didn't work. They begged and pleaded. Nothing.

Our stomaches were in knots. The bus driver came. "Hurry!" He said.

We would have to split the group. I mean, for 1 or 2 people to catch another ride to
Hanoi was one thing, but 5?

Meaghan was sobbing, Kevin was beyond frustated, and the bus driver was ushering us to the bus. We did the painful walk on--Dana, Ben and I--and left bawling Meaghan and Kevin behind, feeling nauseated, wondering how the heck this could be happening, wondering if we also should stay behind.

We got on the bus and felt sick. The driver was still behind us.

Five minutes later a tear stained Meaghan walked on, followed by a ticked off Kevin. The bus driver had worked some magic. The customs officer wrote "$30" on a piece of paper and let him on.

Phew.


So we did arrive in Hanoi. On one stop Meaghan was squatting in a bathroom (if you can call them that here) and a huge lizard jumped out at her from the top of the wall. She almost lost it.

Hanoi is nuts. We've never seeing driving so crazy, and the horns give New York City a run for their money-- even all night. It was another sleepless night as a result. Fortunately I had earplugs so therefore did not bear the brunt of this. Scooters are everywhere. It's dirty. Our hostel last night was only marginally better than the previous night's accommodations. Ok, it was way better, but still terrible. We've given up looking both ways before we cross the street, because the only way you'll get across is to close your eyes and hope the cars and scooters dodge you. I actually got my knuckles brushed by a scooter today and a bus marginally missed me at customs. When the bus driver saw how close he came to smoking me, his eyes grew big and his lips formed a big "Oh!" We're glad we've been to Hanoi, but we're moving on once again tomorrow.

Here's a very crude video of the streets of Hanoi. I know it's terrible, but I was walking.


There are beautiful parts of Vietnam and we're looking forward to heading there. Tomorrow we hit Halong Bay.

When Things Go Wrong

We were excited to go back to the town of Vang Vien. It was our favourite town and we had about a 7 hour motorcycle journey to get there. We learned the hard way that riding in the dark in the mountains was not only scary, but it took away the view. We did not want to drive in the dark again- and it gets dark here at about 5:30. Recall that we rented our bikes in Vientiane, and the original plan was to leave them in Luang Pratang. But we decided to head back to Vientiane with them, with a stop in Vang Vien for the night.

So we filled up with gas the night before and set our alarms for 6:45am, and went to sleep dreaming of the beautiful countryside we would see on this ride.

It all started with the food on the boat cruise, I suspect. When we were cooking the little bits of raw meat the previous night, we did make a comment or two, such as, “I hope this meat hasn’t been sitting out too long,” or “Cook your meat well.”

Whatever the case, that night the cute and cozy feeling of us all sharing 5 to a room with our own bathroom wore off. I was the unlucky one whose bed was next to the bathroom. All night, I was woken up as people stumbled into the bathroom. It was a treacherous route to get here, as our stuff was everywhere and my briefcase was a little too close to the door. So every time someone had to use the bathroom, he or she would trip over it, and thus cause a racket.

“My goodness,” I thought sleepily as I was woken up again. “These people have the bladders of children!”

Dana took such a mad dash to the bathroom at some point and tripped everywhere so much, that I thought she may have killed herself.


As you may have now clued in, and I had not clued in that night, a few of my travelling companions had terribly upset stomachs and had made mad dashes to the bathroom in fear of vomiting, or because of diarrhoea.

The next morning dawned bright and early, but half of us were sick, and the other half had no sleep because of the others being sick. But we had a long ride ahead of us, so suck it up and carry on.

We did have some breakfast, which was a good thing, because little did we know at that time that it would be the last meal in 24 hours.

We left on time and felt good about ourselves. Not only would we be driving in daylight to fully experience the view, but we would have a nice relaxing evening in Vang Vien.


We were on the road for only half an hour when Meaghan’s scooter broke down. Again. It had broken down a couple days ago in the city, but a mechanic changed a spark plug and it was right as rain again.

We groaned at being stuck at the side of the road. We all stopped and determined that Kevin should whip into town on his Baja and call the bike rental place.

A minor setback only. No problem. We did express some nervousness at the state of Meaghan’s scooter, but decided to wait before getting too bent out of shape.

We made the best of the situation. We played cards in a ditch, ate Myanmain treats and played...how shall we say...adult versions of “would you rather.”

After an hour and a half, our optimism was wearing thin. And every Lao person that passed us on the road seemed to view us as some sort of interesting event to stare at. They all stared; not one person offered to help.


Kevin came roaring on his bike shortly after that, followed by a Lao dude, who turned out to be a friend of the rental guy’s. This was the guy that originally switched out the spark plug.

“Where’s his tools?” I asked Kevin.
Kevin growled. “He didn’t bring any! I told him, but either he didn’t understand, or thinks we can’t start it.”

Well as we had already determined, the bike wouldn’t start. So this guy hopped back on his scooter, and zoomed away to get his tools!

When he finally returned after quite a while, he changed the spark plug again.

We’re nervous about this. Two spark plugs in two days?

We tried to communicate with him that “we have very long way to go! Bike okay?”

“Yes, yes! No problem!” He assured us.

We asked again, and again. “Long way! Very far! Bike break down?” It was a ridiculous game of charades, as most communication here is.

He waved us away, “No problem, I fix.”

We were suspicious, but we had lost a lot of time and really couldn’t be short a bike because we had so much cargo. So we utilized the power of positive thinking that this bike WOULD make it, told Dana to say a prayer for the bike since she’s the most spiritual of all of us, and carried on.

One hour later I groaned as I turned a corner and saw Meaghan on the side of the road.
Flat tire!

We slowly brought the bike to the next village (for now there were only villages within miles) and tried to communicate with them that we needed to use some tools.


To make a very long story short, the Laos people who tried to be helpful weren’t that helpful. Every time they put a new tube in, it would puncture! Finally as they reached for a third tube, Ben motioned vehemently, “Stop! It will puncture again! Something wrong!”

Turns out they hadn’t put the strip around the rim to protect the tube from the screws or rivets or whatever.

During this time we were baking in the heat (not that I’m complaining about that, but our shirts were soaked in sweat) and it was as if we were providing a real live Broadway for the town. They all gathered around and stared at the foreigners. They would leave and call their friends. There were mostly children, but by the end of it, adults had gathered around to stare. While this is assuming at first, after 2 hours, it wears thin.

Two hours later the tire was fixed and we were on the road again.

Within 5 minutes Meaghan was stopped again with that damn scooter!

“Kevin,” she said, in tears. “It’s not shifting right. I almost lost control.”

Kevin bravely relinquished his beloved Baja (thank goodness Meaghan knows how to ride a motorcycle) and took the decrepit scooter. We all followed him and held our breath when that thing stalled, and cheered when he got it started again. Sometimes he was only going 30 km because he couldn’t shift gears, but he was moving.

We just wanted to get to Vang Vien and we had already lost so much time! I wanted to get to Vang Vien only because I knew that I would get my own room and a hot shower for $1.50 a night.

After 2 hours, the scooter stopped all together. By this time it was most definitely dusk, and Dana and Ben were ahead of us.

We noticed the gas gauge was at empty. We hadn’t filled up that long ago, but we were suspicious that maybe it was out of gas.

“After all,” Kevin said. “I’ve been driving in second the whole time.”

So once again he zoomed to the next village while Meaghan and I sat by the side of the road, getting stared at by the Laos passers-by. We cracked open a laptop and one shameless Laos guy stood behind us and stared at what we were doing. It was definitely getting dark.

More than half hour later Kevin came back with a couple vials of gas. We put them in and held our breath.

Nothing.

We all growled. This was definitely bad. It was almost dark and we were in the middle of the mountains in the middle of a country with only primitive villages and no English. And most people still had upset stomachs. And we had missed lunch and now dinner. And Dana and Ben were separated from us.

Somehow Kevin started that scooter to be able to drive it to the next town, where Dana and Ben backtracked to find us. We knew now that the spark plug needed to be changed again.

It took forever due to language barriers, but we did change it.

It was so dark by this point that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. We were still at least 2 hours away from Vang Vien and it was well into the evening, and we were tired, hungry, and in some cases still sick. Kevin was especially struggling with an upset stomach.

But carry on! Three kilometres down the road, the damn thing broke down again!

This was disheartening. If the spark plug blew after almost 3 kilometres, this thing could definitely no longer be driven. It was completely dead. And now the town was 3 kilometres away, so we had to push the damn thing back in the dark, through the windy mountain roads, up and down!

Ben drove ahead to buy some rope, and as he was opening the bag with a knife, he sliced his finger pretty badly. So his rescue mission went awry as blood seeped everywhere. Just asking the villagers for a band-aid was challenging.


While we waited for Kevin to push the scooter back into the village, as Dana’s scooter cast light in front of him, we felt extremely low. What to do with this scooter? If we did not get this scooter back to Vientiane, we would not get our deposits, or more importantly, Kevin’s passport would not be returned. But it couldn’t be driven. We had to call the rental place, but when we made motions for “phone” to the villagers, they shook their heads so vehemently, as if it was the craziest suggestion they had ever heard. Dejected, we were now completely annoyed as the whole town gathered round to stare at us. I mean, we were miserable, and no one wants anyone to make their misery a spectacle.

So as Ben tried to get his finger to stop bleeding, and Kevin successfully pushed the scooter from hell into town, we knew we needed a place to stay.

Everything had gone terribly wrong and we were feeling extremely low, not to mention stressed about this scooter, but one thing had gone right.

Back on the road while Meaghan and I were waiting for Kevin to get gas a couple hours prior, two Lao boys on bicycles stopped and asked in extremely broken English if we were okay. We assured them we would be okay, but I don’t think they understood.

“Guesthouse, 100 metre,” was all he could say in the thickest of accents as he pointed up the road.

Meaghan had grumbled after, “Thanks, but we don’t need a guesthouse in the middle of nowhere. We need to get to Vang Vien.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” I said. “How can there possibly be a guesthouse?”

Now these words rang in our head. We needed a phone and a place to sleep, both of which seemed like non-existent prospects in the middle of the mountains. (I had at one point said “Guesthouse?” to a local, as most Lao people seem to understand that word. She shook her head so hard I swear it almost fell off.)

Kevin and I darted in that direction on our Bajas and found the guesthouse about 10 minutes later. They had 2 rooms and beds for only 4, but we didn’t care. We took them.

There was a strange shack across the street that said “police” and we figured that if this was indeed the police, they would surely have a phone. And they did! But the reception was terrible and we couldn’t make the call.

Kevin, sick, rode back to the village to tell the rest of the gang that we had accommodations. We left the broken scooter in the village and chained it up. One do gooder motioned that he would change the spark plug again. After frying 3 spark plugs, we knew this would be the temporariest of band-aids and politely declined.

They went back to the guesthouse where I was waiting for them. I was dying for a shower and didn’t realize as I stood there with nothing on and the water trickled out, that there was no hot water. I shivered as I washed my hair. Later when I went to brush my teeth, I realized the tap didn’t work at all, so I had to use the cold shower.

The rest of the crew came back and Kevin felt so terrible that we decided I should bunk up with Dana and Ben. This bed—which was more like a layer of bricks with a thin sheet over top—was very small and we had the worst sleep again. And Ben’s finger was still bleeding.

But things always look brighter in the morning when the sun shines. The wretched day did end and the sun came up. We realized that we were in some sort of Lao truck stop town and there was a restaurant. After going without lunch or dinner yesterday, breakfast was definitely in order.

We desperately hoped the guy who rented our bikes to us would let us leave it in the town. There was no way we could get it back.


The restaurant did have a phone! But the reception was so bad, it was situated just so, so it was the most Mickey Mouse way of making phone calls.

But we got through!

And he told us that we could definitely not leave the bike there. We had to get it back. He went so far as to ask us if we played with the choke to start it. Then told us to change the spark plug again. Did he think we were stupid?

Maybe it was the daylight, maybe it was the fact that stomachs were more settled, or maybe Dana’s prayers got answered in a twisted sort of way, but we got the scooter back to Vientiane.

We decided to tow it.

The guy called back on the cell phone and we told him, “We changed the spark plug, I think we’re stupid, we’ll be in Vientiane if things go well.”

And remarkably things did go well. Kevin towed it for 200 kilometres through the mountains while Ben steered it! It was ridiculous and completely Mickey Mouse. I mean, most people would tow for a couple dozen kilometres, but a couple hundred?

Yes, maybe it was dangerous, but considering our limited options, we were just relieved that we were able to get the damn thing back in one piece- with all of us intact as well.

So we’re in Vientiane, rid of the bikes, and in much better spirits. Let’s hope we never have a day like that again. Today we hop on a bus for a 24 hour ride to Vietnam...

When All That is Lost May or May Not be Found

I haven’t posted in a couple days because of some crazy mishaps. These mishaps resulted in the road trip from hell, but at least it makes for a great story! For now I’ll leave you suspense to post the entry I wrote a couple days ago:
It’s been a couple of relaxing days in Luang Pratang, which were needed. The town itself is a bit touristy for our taste, but still insanely far from anything you would see in the Western part of the world.


We strolled the markets and streets, visited a spectacular waterfall, took advantage of cheap massages ($4 per hour) and I even took my motorbike offroading by myself. (Though I must confess that it was more of an attempt. After the second close call getting stuck all by my lonesome in uncharted territory in the middle of the jungle, I realized that my power-packed bike could get me into some jams that I would be hard pressed to get myself out of, and no one would have the first clue where to find me if something went wrong. Yes, mom, let this prove that occasionally I do have some common sense.)

This evening we took a boat ride up the Mekong river and had some dinner and watched the sunset. The dinner involved crowding around little barbecue style things and cooking our own bits of meat, rice noodles, and vegetables- a kind of Asian fondue. Once again, the scenery was spectacular. We were the only ones on the boat, so we got our iPods and speakers, bought a couple Beerlao (the local beer here) and had our own private party.
We’re heading back south tomorrow, back to where we started. It’s a long story why, and took us hours of debating or researching to come to this conclusion, but we feel this is the best decision given the information and time we have. Travelling sounds exotic and romantic, and it certainly is most of the time, but one fellow Canadian we met on our journeys summed it up best: Travelling is full of highs and lows. We’ve had a few minor disappointments in the form of not being able to see and do all that we hoped due to misinformation (or conflicting information) and fully booked tours, but we remind ourselves that we already have seen and done so much. At least this way we get to relive the glorious motorcycle ride through the mountains, which I just found out today is “arguably the best motorcycle ride in Southeast Asia”, according to one website.

The group dynamic has been great. One would assume that travelling with 5 people could be challenging at times, but we’ve all gotten along so well and have had so much fun together. We’re totally roughing it, and appalled at how our hygiene has just been thrown out the windows. Sketchy shower facilities, limited laundry resources, razor sharp sun resulting in sweat baths...it’s like camping without the ability to go swimming! I swear I’ve forgotten how to put on makeup, my hair resembles a bag of uncooked rice noodles, and I haven’t looked in a mirror for 3 days. I’m very afraid to do so. Ok, so we’re not that bad. I mean, we do shower, and have managed to find ways to clean our clothes, but we’re definitely slumming it out here.

The funniest part of the group dynamic is that we can all be quite scatterbrained. I must say that Meaghan, Dana, and I can be absent-minded on the best of days, but put us together and it’s gotten ridiculous. Ben and Kevin even claim that we’re rubbing off on them.

There's the Oakleys Kevin left on the back of his bike and drove away (he did recover them), Dana’s loss of her her motorcycle keys TWICE, Meaghan and I both lost a pair of sunglasses, the shoes I left by the river, Ben's close call of a missing iPod, Dana's misplacement of her motorcycle helmet...ok, ok, I’ll stop boring you, but these sorts of things happen on a daily basis. It’s amazing we all manage to function in remote parts of the world like these.

Anyway, stay tuned for the tale of our crazy day yesterday....
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