VANG VIENG, LAOS
We headed down the road on a big bus for another adventure, this time in the river town of Vang Vieng. Dubbed the Marmite of destinations, I was a bit dubious as to how much love I can feel for a place that has a drowned tourist count of 22 per annum, on average…
The reason for such a high fatality rate is the phenomena known as ‘tubing’, which goes like this;
Go upstream, get into an inflated tractor tyre inner tube, get very drunk / take lots of drugs, float down the river, go to more bars, attempt the concrete death slide and rope swings (not without huge risk) and hopefully you will emerge 3k and several hours later downstream, safely, but no guarantees….
Now, this sounds like every mothers nightmare, but not being a mother, I have to imagine…. wait a minute… yes, I can see how this activity is not a good idea.
Bear, however, had to try it, so with two new friends (Rob and Paul) he headed off whilst I stayed in the garden of our lovely guest house and read my book, trying not to worry. He returned at dusk rather drunk (free whiskeys apparently) but also a bit nonplussed, as the water level in the river was so low they had to paddle most of the way so got out and caught a tuk tuk back to the house.
Our eccentric guest house owner, Joe, had said on arrival; “are you going tubing, then give me your mom’s email address so as if you die, I can break the bad news to her…” and he was serious. He told us three Australian’s had died already this year, and that’s at low water; in full swing, the river flows exceptionally fast and claims more lives.
Another aspect of ‘VV’ is the weird ritual of showing either Friends or Family Guy on repeat in every bar in town (no lie) so that people are sitting in rows watching the screens like zombies. If ever there was a good campaign image to ban television, this would be it. Maybe i’m getting old…. or i’ve already seen every episode of Friends; probably both.
All was not lost however, as on the far river bank was tranquility and village life; the mountain and the blue lagoon…. and this happened to be where we were staying.
Now, the Blue lagoon was reached by a bone-shaking cycle over unsealed dirt roads, through a mountain valley of jungle forest and burning sun; it was quite an adventure. Once we made it to the Lagoon, which was indeed blue and full of fish, we had a refreshing swim and a bomb- dive off the jumping tree. Then we climbed up a sheer cliff face into a magical cave. The cave is home to a beautiful gilded statue of the reclining Buddha, which was illuminated by a shaft of light which entered through a high crack in the mountain side, so that plants grew in the path of the sun. It was a beautiful inner-earth garden.
Now the cave exploration itself was not the safest sojourn into the bowels of the Earth; we had an Iphone and a little head lamp to light our way, and there was only roughly painted arrows of the wet rocks, and a few unmarked large gaping holes were very close to the path… no ropes, no helmets; just flip flops and weak light. For an hour we explored the cave; went right into the darkness and turned off the lights. The drip drip sounds of the water, making stalagmites and stalactites like icicles. When the lights turned back on, the water droplets shone like a million diamonds on the roof of the cave.
LAOS, April 2012
We arrived in Luang Prabang after the two day boat ride, and I have to say that cabin fever had set in, and there where a few fellow boaters who I wished never to see again… but this being a small town, we inevitably bumped into some of them.
It’s a really pretty town, lots of temples, small quiet roads as trucks and buses are banned, and I’ve now learnt that I enjoy staying in old town districts because of the rickety old buildings and ye olde vibes.
Bear got a bit incredulous when he realised that Luang Prabang has a big French community due to historic colonialism. ‘It’s just like being in France’….. I wasn’t complaining; croissants and crepes with nutella please!
This town also has a wonderful night market selling crafts and textiles, and also a brilliant temple on the hill which takes some effort to get up, but worth it for the views and relaxing atmosphere. I was slightly upset by the tradition of selling little finch-like birds in cages at the bottom on the steps to set them free at the top of the hill… I looked at them for a while and thought; either I buy them all or I don’t buy any. I chose the latter, because they would all be there again tomorrow… poor birds.
One morning we got a lift from a bustling tuk tuk full of boys who were going to the waterfall; one of whom was from Wolverhampton; small world. This waterfall is pretty special, you enter at a bear sanctuary where you can see sleepy rescue bears hanging out (literally in hammocks). Then you happen upon a glad with a lagoon, and after a swim, on you go up the hill to a bigger lagoon with a swing tree and a jumping waterfall! Bear and I both did a swing! And then, at the top of the hill path is the mother of all waterfalls; a huge sheet of water thundering into a deep pool. Now, this was stunning and very inviting, but the pool had been fenced off with ‘danger’ signs everywhere. That didn’t stop us, we climbed over the fences and had a dip in the pool with the other naughty trespassers! It was breathtaking!!
The Mekong River to Luang Parabang
Laos, April 2012
We arrived at the border village ready to board an elegant long-boat for a two day journey down the river Mekong. It was very beautiful, with scenery of wild jungle forests and craggy mountains; alot like the boat journey in Lord of The Rings (well, thats the music score that was playing in my head… you know the bit where they go through the huge statues of the old kings…you know what I mean!).
This part of the world is very undeveloped and is mostly inhabited by Hill Tribes who grow opium and river-side fishing communities who use nets and poles on a very small scale. Apparently the government are thinking of creating dams along the river which will affect the peaceful way of life that exists here; I hope it does not happen, because once spoiled it will be lost. However, the problem seems to be infiltrating the locals as some Hill Tribes closer to the small towns are burning the forest in a very violent way, leaving black dead trees and exposed soil which will erode the mountain side on the river banks. Why they are doing this is unclear, but I expect money has something to do with it, as the land does not seem to be used for farming…
As the river is low at this time of year, we could see the layers of fine sand built up over time, creating isolated beaches in between boulders on a huge scale. We were also very close to the sides of the mountain ranges and could see the layers of rock and the movements that had shaped the strata during the timeless shifting of the earth. It was a real privilege to see nature in this way and it put life into perspective for me, and allowed an insight into the language of nature; the flow of water, the passage of time and the traces it leaves to mark its journey.
Chang Mai at Songkran
New year in Thailand is celebrate with a four-day public water fight across the nation; Songkran.
To put this in context, everyone gets wet, no one is spared as the spirit of the old year is washed away and the new one welcomed into a clean, freshly laundered world.
Children shoot water pistols, old ladies throw buckets of ice water and monks aim their hosepipes, as all the residents of Chang Mai, and indeed all of South East Asia, stand on their door steps, shopfronts and drives ways and ceremoniously drown you each time you get within reach. Cars and vans become mobile swimming pools and if you are traveling in a tuk tuk you are in for a wet ride.
It is alot of fun…for about two hours.
Day one; visit the temple on the hill in the morning, drinking at the pub in the afternoon and playing with water in the streets. Fun!
Day two; leave the house for breakfast, got wet, went home, got dry, left the house again, got wet. Repeat until all dry clothes are used up. During this day we did find refuge in a beautiful garden of old ceramic temple artifacts which were in a wonderful shady garden, with lots of moss and a family of cats. This was a very peaceful place to hide!
Day three; Bear takes a one day Thai cooking course, but on the way to the morning market, the whole class get soaked by an ambush and over head bucketing from a hotel balcony. Eveyone cooks wearing wet clothes.
Day four; I start to feel a bit of a cold coming on so I decide to get a massage; I walk 300 metres and get a bucket of ice water thrown over me. I am no longer enjoying Songkran, I sulk and stay in our room drinking hot tea for the rest of the day with a sniffle.
Each night one street is designated a no-water zone and it becomes the night market with wonderful food and crafts for sale, we lived just next to this blessed street so we could emerge around 6pm and go there without fear of getting soaked. The food was excellent and we got addicted to the coconut frozen yoghurt….
Day five; we decide that as nice as Chang Mai might be, we couldn’t really see much of it during Songkran, so we head for the Border with Laos, at the Village of Chang Kong for a two day boat ride to Luang Parabang…
More water!
A BANGKOK ADVENTURE
April 2012
We flew out of Trivandrum late at night and arrived at Singapore for the flight change to Bangkok. The bliss of Singapore airport is to be seen to be believed; an ornamental koi carp and goldfish pond set within an orchid glade… clean bathrooms with sweet smelling soaps, relaxing elavator music and a Starbucks (yes, Starbucks is evil but in this context it was like stepping into the future). At that moment, around 5am, I could have happily spent a few days sleeping in the transfer lounge. Seeing the well heeled Asians with their I phones and Chanel handbags gave me and Bear moment of awareness; we officially look like travelers; not only that, but we have a Bongo.
The fight to Bangkok was wonderful due to the blissful sunrise above the cloud bank which we photographed extensively. We then saw the approaching thunderstorm with lightening bolts emanating from a rather ominous black cloud quite close to the plane. At this point turbulence hit and we had to belt up and sit tight for the remainder of the journey.
We touched down in Bangkok and headed for the Khosan Road, mainly because this is the only place our taxi driver could say in English, so ‘You go Khosan’ became both a question and a statement. The Khosan road is home to every westerner backpacker sterotype and cliche under the sun; you can buy anything (ANYTHING); get your hair dreaded, get tattooed, buy tie dye and printed t-shirts, buy trinkets and bits and bobs, flip-flops, fried food, get a suit tailor made and go to the Irish pub……arrrghhhhhh!
With jet lag and my nervous disposition in loud crowded places, we got the hell out of Khosan and straight to the Lamphu Tree House in the Old Town. If you every go to Bangkok, go there… it’s on the canal, with little streets and alley ways, wooden houses and rows of old shops selling tea, books, antiques and it houses a few little independent art galleries; it reminded me of Barcelona’s Gothic quarter, and Bear said it was alot like parts of Berlin. The Tree House itself is a 4 star hotel with pool… this helped sooth my jangled nerves and jet lag a treat!
The time we spent in Bangkok was short but involved the following notable events;
1. Hunting for a small temple sacred to the Goddess Kuan Im, which was well hidden in the backstreets of the opposite riverbank, thus ensuring a ferry ride and getting lost quite a bit. On this particular day, Bear was not in the mood for temple hunting in the extreme heat and was therefore slightly grumpy. Once found however it was stunning; very old wooden temple with an open roof, beautiful statues and figures of Kuan Im; we lit incense and spent some time soaking up the atmosphere.
2. I discovered a local Thai massage place and took Bear to get his feet massaged with reflexology; this went down well. I had a full body Thai massage, and not sure how I feel about it… i’ll describe it to you; go into massage parlor, put on some blue cotton pyjamas, go upstairs where there are about 8 mattresses on the floor, some with people getting massaged, everyone is chatting away; I get on a mattress and a very strong old Thai lady comes over, and for one hour she cracks every bone, pokes every nerve and finally walks along my spine. I can’t say it was relaxing but it was interesting.
3. We got lost ALOT in the evenings looking for recommended restaurants from Lonely Planet guides… and as each night brings with it a torrential thunderstorm, we got very wet. Bear however has discovered a new cooking Guru in the form of May Kaidee, Thailand’s celebrity vegetarian chef (yes, you heard correctly, veggie… Bear has voiced some strong views in favour of tasty vegetarian cuisine!) and we ate at her two restaurants for lunch and dinner on the same day he liked it so much. I really enjoyed the veggie street behind Khosan road and particularly a place called Ethos, where they ferment their own Kombucha, which is a wonder tea drunk cold, containing amino acids and micro nutrients; it tastes like cider vinegar but does you good!
After a few days we decided that Bangkok was a bit full-on and opted to travel north to Chiang Mai on a 15 hours train journey…on this journey, we saw in full swing the etiquette between Buddhist monks and women; unfortunately a Canadian girl had a seat booking, and a Monk had already sat down in the neighbouring seat. Not sure how train bookings worked in this situation, she sat herself down…
Now, the rule is that women should not sit next to, speak with, touch or otherwise be in the Auric field of a Buddhist monk. Something I find really hard to reconcile with the teachings of Buddha is the position of women… namely that they are not capable of spiritual enlightenment or attaining Nirvana because they are female, and thus create more Karma based on the function of giving birth to children. This feels like yet another misogynistic trend in religious scripture to suppress the feminine; I know women are capable of spiritual enlightenment.
So with much embarrassment and a look of outrage the Monk asked a fellow Thai gentleman to dismiss the woman from his presence and guess what, Bear had to swap places with her (Lisa from Canada) and the poor girl had to sit by me for a bit until the musical chairs had been organised so she could sit with another woman and a Thai man be sat next to the Monk.
It all left me rather confused about Buddhism in general, and reminded me why I stopped going to the meditation centre back in London…
My final word on the subject be this; discrimination is discrimination whether the focus is skin colour, race, gender, sexual orientation, age or anything else, and what I saw was discrimination on religious grounds which made someone out to be inferior because she is a woman. How can that be spiritual?
Varkala & Shiva Garden
March 2012
Our arrival at Varkala was joyous; the sun shine, the beach and the north cliff with it’s craft shops and food hang outs was a welcome sight. After Madurai we were ready for a bit of chill out time and a slower life. Varkala is just (only just!) the right side of tourist trap to still be nice… how long this will last, i’m not sure.
We found our Varkala home just off the main cliff at Shiva Garden; a little hippy commune with some long term residents who came for a few days and stayed a few months… this is easy to do, as we found out! The garden itself is a large open space with spice plants and fruit trees in the traditional ayurvedic style, with a sofa deck, hammocks and a swing between palm trees, and a kitchen which served the (second) best masala chai tea in India (milky tea cooked in with cloves, cinnamon, cardamon and sugar); the prize for the best masala chai tea in India / the World goes to Coffee Temple on the cliff; the guy there has a secret recipe of blended spices plus a secret weapon in the steamed milk latte machine. The owner is a Brit expat who goes back for the summer to do the festivals in England; look out for his van!
Another special thing about Shiva Garden is the combination of lovely staff (Baiju, Jayan, Sonia, Vishnu, and Apu the dog) and the travelling crowd it attracts; we made some wonderful friends and a few days turned into ten days hanging out. Bear met a kindred spirit in Oliver from PEI (that’s Prince Edward Island, Canada), who could be his Canadian brother (see photo above!), and Hans from Belgium, both of who have traveled most of the world and had many stories to tell in the evenings. Happily we met up with James again and some new friends of his; Charlie and Charlie from the UK. We also bumped into Ron on the cliff… we were now noticing familiar faces on our journeys!
Bear quickly found the (supposed) best club on the cliff (The Chillout Lounge) and got talking to the owner about music, whereupon he was promptly booked to play a DJ set the following evening… alas, he was bumped for a live indian folk band… with the promise of playing a set the next evening.
Oliver and Hans got to work on the promo material; fashioning flyers from cardboard (see above picture), which were both eco friendly and arty. After a full evening spent drinking rum and writing flyers, the whole of Shiva Garden was ready for the event; at one point about 20 people where on the flyer production line!
So the big day came, and we went to scout out the equipment at the venue and double check arrangements… only to find; the whole place had been packed up for the season; we hear rumors that the chef had an argument with the owner and walked out, thus meaning the venue had to close. Poor Bear, twice the plug had been pulled, and so, with a sad face, he broke the news to Oliver and Hans…
One morning on a wander to the beach I got lost in the back streets, and on the walk back to the wrong turning I saw a sign in the trees; ‘The Scientific School of Yoga, Naturopathy and Ayurveda Hospital’. My ah-ha (just like Alan Partridge) bell rang and I though, “this is where I will learn ayurvedic massage”… and so a week long course began in which my teacher Sajitha, a tiny yet mighty Indian lady, taught me her full massage sequence on willing victims; thanks to the following for use of their bodies: Emilie, Charlie and Charlie, Simona, Ricarda and Elanor.
Ayurveda is a bit different to western massage styles that have been adapted to out collective psyche comfort zone; In Indian, you get naked, and are treated (respectfully) like a little child; you get showered, patted down, massaged for 1-2 hours on an ancient wooden teak table which has been well oiled by thousands of massages (the ayurvedic oil is heated and very dark brown by the way, it contains around 40 different herbs and spices). The oil is applied liberally, i meant you are basted in it like a roast dinner, but it is wonderful! After the massage, which is really the best thing ever, you get taken by the hands (for two reasons; in case you slip on the oil and because you are so blissed out and floating) and then you get washed down and dried again before being sent home all shiny and new!
I should also mention that in Ayurveda, women massage women, and men massage men; I think it’s a good system as it keeps a good balance because it can feel quite vulnerable at times. Bear said that being massaged by a man was quite sensual…
So after giving and receiving many massages, I was awarded my certificate in massage.
And if one person joked, ‘do I give happy endings?’, I think everyone did… the answer is no, that was not part of the course.
‘SURRENDER’ or ‘Traveling by Bus and Boat in India’
a Journey into Alleppey, Kottayam, Kumily, Periyar and Madurai
March 2012
15 Hours is a long time to spend on a train, especially when you are sharing a berth with six other people all snoring and farting, not to mention being woken up at 3am by the tea boy yelling ‘CHAI CHAI’.
Ah, it was good foresight to purchase some printed bed sheets and throws for use at such times; I might be about to freak out but I am wrapped in a block printed sarong featuring the tree of life and some kind of tree squirrel, thereby looking both mad and stylish at the same time.
Once we got to Alleppey, I needed to eat a pancake and go to sleep, I had lost the power of speech and was not very friendly to the tuk tuk driver. Bear was fussing over Bongo, he thought it might have been scuffed on the train journey, even though I had wrapped it up in some clothes and made a little bed for it next to me on the top bunk (by the way, I was definitely having the top bunk for two reasons; one, my brother always got top bunk on family caravan holidays, and two, I had no desire to have a strange Indian man accidentally getting into bed with me, which is why Bear had the short straw and thus the lower bunk.)
We made a friend at the guest house called James who was a welcome chum for the next part of our journey; the Backwaters!
Kerala is a self-elected communist sate and I have to say it was really working well. The roads are good, the public transport is great and the vibe is alot more relaxed than up the coast. If I ever return to Indian, it will be to Kerala.
The best trip you can do on the backwaters is the 3 hour government bus-boat which costs 10 rupees (some tour boats can cost 800 rupees). The waterways are very varied; sometimes a narrow canal, other times opening up into a huge lake. All lined with people going about their lives; washing clothes and babies in the water, brushing their teeth or having a swim. The end of the route is Kottyam, a stop-off before the 5 hour bus to Kumily and Periyar wildlife park in the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu.
Now the stop off was meant to be a lunch break, but, we got into a tuk tuk with a very proud Kottyam resident who insisted on taking us to eat with his friends, then his house (where we would stay the night) and then to the local temple to see an elephant festival with singing and dancing. It was a mixed feeling of being hijacked and going with the flow… so we had an adventure.
Now Bear and James where being a bit skeptical about this tuk tuk driver, convinced he was going to rip us off, and i’m not sure he did, but here’s what happened, in bullet point form;
1. He took us to a house with ‘three beds’; there was one bed, which three of us shared; Bear was piggy in the middle.
2. He took us to the temple to see the elephants, and it is custom to leave your shoes outside. On returning, Bear’s new leather sandals (400 rupees) had been taken. He was not happy about this and threw a paddy whack.
3. We all went home to our bed for the night and awoke to a guest house with no food or bottled water to offer. I was starting to loose my vibe, the boys were pretty furious by this point.
4. We got taken to a special bus stop, on the insistence of our now tour guide tuk tuk driver, who said it was the best way to get to Kumily and Periyar. It was certainly the fastest way; I thought we were going to die on that bus trip. We found out later that the private bus companies might have air con, but they drive twice as fast. It was 5 hours of upward hill driving, around mountain roads and cliff edges, sheer drops and driving on the wrong side of the road, overtaking on corners and swinging two wheels around mountain hairpin bends. I went through all the stages of surrender; fear, praying, crying, anger, and finally giving in to the moment, chanting; this too shall pass this too shall pass.
I’m happy to say we made it to Kumily to a stunning guest house on the edge of Periyar national park, high in the mountains where they grown tea; I appreciate tea alot more now I see the journey to get it. We went on a day trek and saw a herd of wild elephants with 3 new babies, went for a swim in the lake and pretended we were in Jurassic Park.
We also made a new friend called Ron, a historian who is the Dutch Stephen Fry to my mind. We spent alot of time discussing the virtues of a slower paced life whilst waiting for our breakfast orders at Coffee Inn; order at 9am, eat at 1pm.
Bear James and I visited a spice garden, where they grown healing plants for Ayurvedic medicine, and a tea plantation where all our lovely Chai / Rosie Lee comes from.
After a lovely time in the mountains it was once again time to move on, this time back to the beach (my natural habitat, I have now discovered!). After considering a dose of vallium to get me back on a bus, instead I made Ron promise me that his story was true and that the way down the other side was less terrifying. It was, thankyou Ron!
We spent around 4 hours in Madurai; a really filthy city with a stunning temple, and a train straight to Varkala, our next destination.
HOLY COW! A Postcard from Palolem Beach, Goa, India
March 2012
First stop was the beach; India being a unique and hectic experience, we got straight out of the (noisy / polluted) city to the palm trees and sandy beach. Also, being in India, on day 2 we came down with a dose of the old food poisoning… Bear said ‘Lets get a tandoori fish, all the locals are eating it…’ famous last words, anyway, our first week in India was spent between the bathroom, the deck chairs and eating baked potatoes.
The second week was much better, we were both looking browner and thinner and on a strict diet of fruit and water. Now we could explore the area; first thing was to climb the island off shore, which we could wade to at low tide. I think it’s official name is Butterfly Island, but it’s now called Monkey Island as we saw a couple of little silver monkeys with black faces in the bushes.
The climb was steep and dusty up the higgledy-piggledy sandstone steps to the summit, where there was a curious feature carved into the stone; a bowl with the inscription around the rim; ‘GIVE IF YOU CAN, TAKE IF YOU HAVE TO’, and inside were some coins, a leaf and a white feather.
Our trip had coincided with Holy; a dry (no alcohol) week celebrating ‘Holy Holy’, a Hindu high-holiday with much throwing of coloured powder and shouting the exclamation ‘HAPPY HOLY!’ at everyone.
Our time at Palolem also saw the great conjunction between Jupiter and Venus, which we watched every night from our little hut under the palm trees once the Sun had set behind Monkey Island.
As Bear has some interesting comments to make about my hippy ways…. he seems to be fitting in well as he has purchased a bongo drum (it’s real name is a Jambe drum, but he affectionately calls it Bongo).
This happened because we were living next to a Jambe maker, player, and of course, seller, called Atlaf. Every morning he would play a rhythm and as soon as we came out of the hut, well you can guess the rest…. after a week of ‘Hello my friend, come and play, no buy, it’s ok…’ Bear had all the drums lined up asking ‘How much?’. He opted for a beautifully carved mango wood and buffallo skin Jambe in orange for the princely sum of 2000 rupees, ‘Good price, good price my friend’…..
Bongo now accounts for Bears hand luggage on planes, trains and tuk tuks.
We knew it was time to move on once a fight started on the beach between some very drunk boys and girls from Birmingham. Now, being from the Midlands, it’s this kind of thing that I moved to get away from, but no, seems the Brummie love of a pint and a punch up is alive and well on the edge of the Arabian Sea.
We de-camped and headed up the cliff between Palolem and Patnam beaches to a jungle eco village called Bhakti Kutir, with a wonderful outside, open air bathroom! Does a bear poo in the woods..? Yes, especially when there are birds singing and the sun is shining. It was alot of fun!
After all the wonderful beach times, it was time to saddle up, and catch a 15 hour train down to Kerala state… The reality of purchasing a drum one week into a year long trip was starting to dawn on Bear…
(Source: artdress)
