- Arriving into Istanbul by train, the Bosphorus glistening in the early morning sunshine.
- Exploring Syrrhus archeological site in northern Syria - just me, John, our driver and a French archaeologist
- The locals' hamam in Damascus - the building was 800 years old and no English was spoken
- Enjoying the silence and solitude of the hiking trails of the Dana National Reserve in Jordan
- Spending an hour with the Sabyinyo gorilla family in Rwanda
- Serengeti Balloon ride, lying waiting for the balloon to tip upright and take off
- Driving through the early evening sunshine in the Serengeti, head out of the top of the jeep scanning the "endless plains"
- Helicopter ride (front seat) over Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe
- Okavango Delta, Botswana - being poled through the reeds on a hot day
- Listening to the lions roaring at night at the campsite waterhole in Etosha National Park, Namibia
- Standing at the Cape of Good Hope - the south-western most point of Africa and a long way from London
- Eating fresh fish and drinking cold beer all afternoon at the fish market in Maputo, Mozambique
- Attempting, and failing, to cross the Lowari pass (northern Pakistan) by jeep in the dark, due to landslides.
- Stepping off the side of the hill at Sarangkot to (tandem!) paraglide above Pokhara, Nepal
- Enjoying the majesty of the Himalayas, in particular the Annapurna mountain range from the viewpoint just below Poon Hill
- Lying in the meditation room at Sadhana Yoga, watching the paragliders against the deep blue sky
- Gazing at Mount Everest on the overland journey (Friendship Highway) from Kathmandu to Lhasa
- Idling away my time on Koh Rong island off the Cambodian coast. Swim, eat, read, snooze, swim, read, eat, take a stroll, swim, beer, eat, play cards, sleep...
- The wind in my hair on the back of an Easy Rider motorbike for five days from Dalat to Danang, Vietnam
- Crossing the Gokteik Viaduct in northern Burma; standing at the open door at the end of the carriage
- Watching the sunset from the top of the ferry while travelling down the Irrawaddy River from Katha to Mandalay
- Pathein to Chaung Tha in Burma - sitting in the front seat of the bus watching chickens being thrown up to an empty wicker basket
- Watching the leopardess teach her cubs to hunt a wild boar in Yala National Park, Sri Lanka
- Enjoying the view from Ella's Rock over the tea plantations in Ella, Sri Lanka after the long tough climb.
- Watching the fishermen haul in their catch on Uppuveli Beach (near Trincomalee, Sri Lanka), with a cold beer in hand
Cath's Grand Year Out
Monday 21 May 2012
This is my life
When you travel for an extended period of time, you do a surprising amount of mundane things. When spending hours and hours on uncomfortable journeys or wondering when there will be a clean room with hot water again, you can forget why this travelling lark was such a great idea. But then suddenly you realise that you are having one of those "Wow, this is my life and I'm living it!" moments. Some are high-adrenalin but others are more contemplative. As a conclusion to my trip, here are some of the selected highlights of when I sat back, grinned and thought... "Yes, this is why I'm here".
Wednesday 15 February 2012
Idling Irrawaddy Days
“Arrive
Wednesday 5pm” was as much English as the man at the ferry ticket office was
willing to offer. For $7 this seemed
like a bargain. Laden with our new
blankets and plastic floor mats (local bamboo appears to have gone out of
fashion and has been replaced by Thai imports), we boarded our ferry for the
three day/two night “cruise” from Katha to Mandalay. The first task at hand was to secure our spot
on deck. At first, the crew wanted to
ignore our deck tickets and install us in a cabin but we insisted and were led
up to the main deck. The whole purpose
of the trip was to live amongst the locals and watch the world go by on the
banks of the Irrawaddy. We hadn’t
realised though, that as far as the locals were concerned, we were the
entertainment…
These
government ferries run several times a week.
An “express” had left that morning which would only take two days and
one night but we were on the slow boat. They
carry passengers and a lot of produce along the Irrawaddy, on a route which is
ill-served by buses or other forms of transport. The ferry had spent all afternoon in port
loading goods onto the lower deck. One
of the crew led us to the corner of the main deck and offered us a raised
wooden frame. With its excellent vantage
point, we snapped it up and settled into our new home. A lady soon came to see us and, with her
small amount of English, informed us that she ran the kitchen selling rice and
noodle dishes. Perfect!
We had hoped
to be the only foreigners on board but in the end were joined by two Germans,
an Austrian and an Australian. They were
instructed to take up position on the floor near us. It makes the staring game a lot easier if all
the foreigners sit together… As they
were far less prepared than us, the captain’s wife went off and found some old
mats for them to use.
We departed
from Katha just after 5pm, in time to enjoy our first sunset on board. We didn’t go far before we stopped to collect
more people and goods and this carried on until the early hours, finally
anchoring around 1am. After a hearty
meal of vegetable fried rice, we curled up in our sleep sheets and
blankets. We enjoyed some interaction
with the locals, discussing where we were all going to and coming from, taking
their photos and the local face paint “tanakha” was brought out for Lynn to
try. Our neighbours were two lovely
giggling ladies and two very fashionable boys in their early twenties. The boys would have fitted right in in Soho
or the East Village: white jeans, blue jeans, skinny shorts with tartan rim, a
selection of belts, ripped t-shirts, winklepicker boots... and the occasional longyi.
For the rest of the trip, they changed outfits at least five times a
day.
The thick
blankets performed admirably in the cold of the night, so much so that we
missed the loading of three large wooden benches and the arrival of a lot more
people onto the main deck. It didn’t
take long in the morning for the locals to realise that these lovely wooden
benches were a perfect viewing position in the “stare and laugh at the
foreigners” game. As everything we did
caused great amusement, it seemed only right to provide as much entertainment
as possible. Rather than going and
sitting in the kitchen area, I brought our breakfast of rice with nuts and tea
leaf salad back to the bed along with a flask of tea. Stepping up onto our bed and over the flask
caused the audience to collapse in hysterics.
Although
very misty, we set sail around 8.30am but by 10am we had stopped again. We were beginning to fully understand why
this was referred to as the slow boat.
To enjoy this journey, you really must be able to switch off from any
sense of time and sit back and absorb the sights around you. A few good books help too…
In the end
the loading at this stop took four hours and the porters’ work was
back-breaking. A group of very lean men
set about loading ~50 oil drums onto the bottom deck. Each one required the guidance of two men
down a wooden plank. The oil drum was
definitely in charge, the men there to do their best to guide the drum onto the
ferry. A huge thud was heard each time a
drum landed on board. A bamboo pole was
then inserted into the two handles on top of the drum, placed onto the
shoulders of two men and lifted into its storage position. Hundreds of big bags of rice followed along
with other sundries – bananas, wooden planks.
The sand on the bank deteriorated with each load and remedial work had
to be continually carried out to prevent a landslide. Fascinating viewing.
Late
afternoon we stopped at a busy small town where some of our new friends left us. As we pulled in alongside
a very similar ferry, we spotted two fellow travellers, Kristiaan and Klaus,
who we had met in Katha. They had been
due to remain in Katha for another couple of days but it turned out that an
“express” had left that morning and they had both decided to jump on board. We were a little amused that they had left
only that morning and had still reached this town ahead of us. We only unloaded a small amount of produce at
this stop and were soon on our way again.
After a beautiful sunset and another vegetable fried rice for dinner (we
had mimed for plain rice and vegetables…oh well), we were ready for bed at
6.05pm. The boat continued to stop and
load more produce and people until midnight.
Sometimes we would simply anchor in the middle of the river and a small
boat would pull up alongside and pass over their produce.
The 2nd
night was much warmer than the first and we woke to a beautiful sunny
morning. The boat set off by 8am and we
seemed to be making excellent progress.
This progress was suddenly halted mid morning when we had to stop and
provide assistance to the “express” boat which had become stuck on a sandbank
in the middle of the river. The captains
spoke for a couple of hours by radio and in the end we moved slowly around
them, seemingly creating sufficient agitation in the water and sand to free
them. I will admit that it was a little
upsetting to see them steam past us about an hour laterJ. Kristiaan and Klaus waved.
We had been
due to arrive into port in Mandalay that afternoon at around 5pm but it became
clear as the afternoon progressed, and we continued to stop at every small
village, that another night on board was likely. Our friends (the fashion victims) told us
that we would likely arrive into Mandalay at around 9am the next morning. A brief “but I really need a shower*,
preferably hot” moment was solved by watching sunset from the top of the boat. Those foreigners without cosy blankets looked
like they might cry whilst we smugly considered the extra cost benefit from
another night of usage.
We were much
reduced in passenger numbers by now as we had been unloading people all
afternoon, often just onto a random section of isolated beach. Come nightfall, the wooden benches reached their
destination and our audience had to find new positions for monitoring our funny
foreign habits. There was quite a party
atmosphere as everyone on our side of the boat had been together for
several days. A much quieter night
ensued though as we were no longer loading people or goods.
Of course we
didn’t arrive into Mandalay at 9am but at 1pm!
We donated our blankets and mats to those who looked like they needed
them more than us and enjoyed one last meal from the kitchen. With so much more room on deck, we played
with the cook’s young children and some of the shyer teenagers suddenly
discovered a love of posing for the camera.
After four days, it felt sad to disembark. If you would like time to stand still for a
short time, there is little better to recommend than the slow boat from Katha
to Mandalay. It is helpful in Burma to
remember that for much of the country (unlike the developed cities of Rangoon
and Mandalay), small scale agriculture is the way of life. All you see along the banks of the river are
farms and pagodas. Boats of all shapes
and sizes chug up and down the river, creating connections.
We decided
to walk the hour into town to re-introduce a sense of exercise into our lives,
slightly annoying the trishaw drivers at the port. About halfway into town, a trishaw driver
approached me to see if we needed a ride.
“No thank you,” I said, “we’re walking”.
“Have you just come off the Katha boat?” he asked, before cycling off
laughing. When we later bumped into
Kristiaan for a beer, we were happy to discover that the “express” ferry had in
fact only reach Mandalay one hour before we did! Not so fast after all; exactly as it should
be.
* I would
like to note that whilst the foreigners may not have showered for four days,
all the locals took a wash each day in the river using their longyi for
discretion.
Irrawaddy / Ayeyarwaddy = same same
An accidental day trip to Kachin State
“It’ll be here in an hour
– this is Myanmar!” the nice man had exclaimed when I wondered when our train
might arrive. I laughed, “It’s really
not so different in England!” We boarded
the 4.30pm train from Mandalay to Katha just over an hour late. Upper Class was not quite so “upper” on this
train, which was a shame as the journey to Naba (for Katha) was overnight. Nevertheless, in preparation for our ferry
journey back to Mandalay, we had new blankets so warmth would not be an
issue. Despite the lack of reclining
seats, we consoled ourselves by ordering from the menu: our dinner would be
delivered directly to us in our seats (playing safe with vegetable fried rice). We could even buy beer.
The experience was quite
different to the ‘Mandalay – Hsipaw’ line.
The carriage was full of vendors moving up and down filling the air with
the call for their wares, nuns were collecting alms and we no longer had an
attentive conductor keen to ensure our comfort.
The train progressed very bumpily through the pitch black night – only an
occasional farmer’s roaring fire was visible.
The uncomfortable nature of the seating meant that the night passed very
slowly. Finally sitting up at 6.50am
(just before our scheduled arrival time), I figured we had at least another
hour to go (due to the late departure) but maybe longer as the train had
stopped for long periods in the night.
When I enquired of some of our fellow passengers, they said “Naba? About another three hours”.
This train journey was
supposed to be uneventful and simply the easiest way to travel to Katha. Unlike the Hsipaw train, we would be
travelling mainly in the dark. However,
an unheard of event (Myanmar Railways making up time) changed the course of our
day. It turned out that we had arrived
at and left Naba earlier than planned.
The conductor had not thought to point this out (perhaps because, the
night before, we had seen no reason why he should move us to inferior seats so
that a man in black velvet flipflops could have ours). I perhaps should have guessed some time later
when one of the vendors on the train insisted on giving me a “Kachin State”
breakfast – coconut rice steamed in a bamboo pole (yummie!). After 60 years of conflict, the Kachin State
army had signed a ceasefire with the Burmese government earlier in the week –
we were not supposed to be in Kachin State*…
Weary with so little
sleep, we ordered breakfast and went back to our books, very keen for the train
journey to be over. Finally, 3 ½ hours
later, we were told that we had arrived at Naba and we should disembark. Climbing down onto the platform, something
seemed not quite right. For a start, the
station sign read “Namma”. A keen
motorbike driver wanted to take us somewhere for 1000 kyat but there were blank
faces when we mentioned ‘bus’ & ‘Katha’.
No-one spoke much English but everyone wanted to help! A lot of life takes place at railway stations
and there were plenty of people milling around, not seemingly intending to travel
anywhere. We had just livened up their
Sunday.
Our train now long
departed, it was eventually understood that we wanted Naba, not Namma, and everyone
pointed back in the direction from where we had come. We were escorted to station master’s office,
sat down in the VIP waiting area, and the situation explained. The station master (who had a good smattering
of English) scratched his head and went into his office to start making
calls. The local military guard (in a
hoodie) looked at us in a bemused way. It
was beginning to dawn on us that we were over 3 hours into Kachin State, possibly
four hours beyond our original destination.
Our original platform
helpers hung around to stare and smile at the funny white people. Suddenly, plates were brought in and a
variety of nuts and sunflower seeds laid out for us! The high school English teacher was summoned
to the station to act as translator. He
said not to worry; the station master would sort everything out for us. To be honest, we weren’t worried at all, we
thought the whole thing really rather amusing.
I could see the anecdote unfolding before my eyes. In the meantime, some cakes arrived for our
pleasure.
Fortunately, one daytime
stopping train goes back down from Myitkyina to Mandalay each day and it was due
in 1 ½ hours. There was an earlier
express train that came through but they didn’t stop that for us J I did wonder at one point! The school teacher was very kind but did keep
telling us that it was not safe for us to be there. We were to remain in the VIP waiting area
until the train arrived. Word of our
presence went round the village and one by one, the villages came to stare and
giggle at us from the door. As the
school teacher told us, “You are very strange looking to them. We never see foreigners here.”
Not unpredictably in
Burma, our passports** were requested, but amusingly all they wrote down was:
Rooney/Liverpool, Shaffer/Texas. This
led to the obligatory football conversation.
The military man then gave the school teacher questions to ask us to
ascertain why we were here and did our “got off the train at the wrong stop”
story add up. Journalists and NGO
workers are not well loved by the Burmese authorities. I saw the school teacher write two questions down
in the exercise book he was given. He
looked uncomfortable so I steered the conversation to answer the questions –
“What was our purpose in Burma?”, “Where are their cases?” Efficiently, we had left our main rucksacks
in Mandalay as they would be superfluous on the ferry. As such, we were only carrying a small day
pack each and two very large blanket bags!
We pulled out our itinerary
(scribbled on a sheet of paper) and Burma guide book. The station master took the guide book away and
took a long look through – we were never sure if this was simple curiosity or if
he was looking for something more sinister?!
Our military friend watched over his shoulder. We discussed our route around Burma and in
the end this all seemed enough to convince them that we were simply travellers
trying to get to Katha.
Afterwards, the military
guard gave the school teacher permission to take us outside the train station
into the village’s main square. Hearing
of our plight, one of the food vendors had decided that she would like to meet
us and present us with some complimentary special Kachin State food: she cooked
us up some banana fritters and fried dough rings with a molasses sauce on the
side. We took them back to the waiting
room to enjoy on the train (due any minute now).
The lovely school teacher
remained with us, occasionally shaking his head and telling us that it was not
safe for us to travel in this region. I
asked if he was able to travel around the area (his home town was 10 miles
away) but in the presence of the military guard, I had obviously asked the
wrong question. He lowered his eyes and
we quickly changed the subject. An hour
late, the “down” train arrived. Shortly
before it arrived, our military man disappeared, changed out of his hoodie and
reappeared on the platform in his full uniform carrying a large gun. Along with four more junior soldiers, they
stood on each side of the track awaiting the train. We wondered if this happened for all trains
but realised that we hadn’t seen this when our original train had arrived.
As the train pulled in, we
were requested to remain in the VIP seating area whilst the station master went
off to view our seats and speak to the conductor (we were not charged a new
fare). We were happy to travel back in
standard class (hard upright wooden seats) but the station master deemed this
unsuitable for foreigners and secured the last two Upper Class seats for us (nice
reclining airline seats again). As we
were escorted onto the train, a prisoner was escorted off the train by the five armed military guards.
There was no way we would
be allowed to miss our station again and so four hours later when we arrived
back into Naba, the friendly conductor came to make sure that we did indeed
disembark. He enjoyed telling the story
to a few of the local passengers and they all laughed heartily at our
expense. We smiled and shrugged our
shoulders as we waved goodbye. Once off
the train at the right stop, travelling to Katha is really easy peasy. A bus awaits each train and for a few pence,
it transports you the 16 miles to Katha in a just under an hour! We
arrived in the dark and once we had picked from the two guesthouses in Katha which
accept foreigners, there was nothing to do but enjoy beer and noodles from the
night market. All the locals were very
excited about the big game on TV that evening (Arsenal vs Man Utd) but we
simply needed a very good night’s sleep.
Katha itself is a very
sleepy place. It has no internet
connection and sees maybe 20-30 tourists each week in the high season. Life revolves around the markets and the
arrivals and departures of the government ferries which come and go various
times each week. To foreigners, it is most
famous as being the place where George Orwell was stationed with the British
army and on which he based his book ‘Burmese Days’. The following morning, we wandered around and
checked out old the British Officer’s Club, the Tennis Club next door and what
we think was Joss’ house.
After this quick tour, we
purchased floor mats for the ferry as we had heard that it gets very cold
sleeping on the deck. Added to the
lovely big blankets we had bought in Mandalay, we predicted that we would be
toasty! Shopping completed, we retired
to a riverside beer station to while away the time until the ferry’s departure
at 5pm. We had an excellent vantage
point for watching the locals come to bathe in their longyis in the river and
the water taxis load and unload continual streams of passengers and motorbikes.
Finally the loading of
our ferry was complete, we were nicely relaxed and it was time to drift off
down river.
* Tourists are allowed to
travel by train into the Kachin State, but only to disembark at Myitkyina (approx another six hours from Namma). Once you arrive in Myitkina, you are
forbidden to travel on anywhere else and buses will not let you board. The only way back out is the long train journey back
to Katha/Mandalay!
** In Burma, each
foreigner has to be registered each evening at the local immigration
service. Only licensed hotels can accept
foreigners and they must send over an updated guest list each night.
The “131 Up”: Mandalay to Hsipaw
The 3am wake-up was brutal. It felt even worse when we realised that the
hotel had not booked us a taxi to the train station as requested. The night porter suggested we walk a couple
of blocks and we would find one.
Really? At 3.15am? Inevitably we ended up walking the 30 minutes
to the station through the empty streets of Mandalay.
As we got closer to the station, we started to see signs
of life. What is less visible during
waking hours is just how many people live on the streets on the ramp leading up
to the station and on the station platforms themselves. During the day, this is camouflaged by market
vendors outside the station and travellers on the platforms.
We boarded our train and in no time were buying onion and
potato bhajis through the window of our “Upper Class” carriage. The carriage was fairly comfortable and
kitted out with business class seats from a long-ago refitted aircraft. The reclining seats still had the foot rests
attached to the back and the trays in the arms.
Despite the bad press for Myanmar Railways departure times, the "131 Up" left Mandalay just
after 4am, heading out into the darkness.
Our carriage was very quiet as all the locals curled up on the seats
under the blankets they had thoughtfully brought with them. As the windows were all open, it was chilly. Just before departure a 40 year old monk jumped
on board and couldn’t resist the idea of sitting next to me for a chat.
While the rest of the carriage slept, he talked to us
about his 15 years in a monastery in Thailand and then read our palms (I’m
guaranteed a long life apparently). As
Lynn drifted off to sleep in the seat opposite, the monk informed me of his
preference for foreign women over Burmese women. I might have felt more disposed towards him
if he hadn’t stood up every ten minutes to lean over me and spit red betel juice out of the window. I was keen now to enjoy a little snooze
myself but first I had to make clear to my new friend that he couldn’t curl up
on my shoulder to go to sleep.
At 8am we pulled into Pyin Oo Lwin (an old
British hill station), our monk said his farewells and there was an influx of
eight foreigners of varying nationalities (8am being a far more civilised time
to join a train!). We munched on the
delicious red rice and chick pea stew that a silent monk had presented to us
whilst contemplating the day ahead and the crossing of the Gokteik Viaduct. The train line we were on was built by the
British a long time ago. When faced with
an impossible valley to cross, they simply commissioned the Pennsylvanian Steel
Company to build the world’s second highest railway viaduct. Built in 1901, this viaduct has remained in
service ever since despite having only received some “remedial work” in the
1990s. I think that the good people of Pennsylvania
can be very proud at this feat of engineering.
We made our way slowly up through the glorious
countryside, enjoying the life along the tracks: the endless neat vegetable
patches, the golden wheat fields, the pagodas and the children waving as the
train went by… This is the slow life:
the 131 miles from Mandalay to Hsipaw takes a leisurely 12 hours. With all the windows open and the sun beating
down, you can still work on your tan whilst enjoying the gentle breeze. The train does rock a lot and you do wonder
if you are going to get thrown off the track but in the end, you just get
thrown out of your seat from time to time!
The answer is to just relax and enjoy the slightly fairground nature of
the journey.
The train conductor was very proud of the Upper Class
carriage and kept it spotless as passengers came and went. This is a man in tune with his foreign
passengers – they are on this train to cross the Gokteik Viaduct. For the ten to fifteen minutes before
arriving at the Gokteik Viaduct, you start to get glimpses of this magnificent
structure and I will admit that it does look ever so fragile! The train pulls into Gokteik station before
the crossing in order to change gear. During
the stop, you are encouraged to jump down from the train to take a good look
and a few photos. Our conductor
positively insisted that we go through this rite of passage. Shortly afterwards, we started to crawl
across. We, the foreigners, were
captivated whilst the locals mainly read their books or slept. The conductor gestured to me to follow him
and he lead me to the end of the carriage where I could stand at the open door
and look straight down – I held on very tight!
This is a truly awesome experience – in the original, not the over-used
- sense of the word. I sat back smiling
for the rest of our journey to Hsipaw.
Hsipaw is a small dusty town from where you can trek up
to various Palaung
villages. With rented bikes for a day, we
roamed around town and then in the mid afternoon headed up to the Sunset Hill to
read our books and enjoy the view and the silence. A monastery lies at the top and shortly after
we arrived, a monk came out to see us with a visitor’s book. We filled in our details but as he walked
away, he suddenly spun around: “Rooney?! Manchester United?” “No, Liverpool!” He walked away tickled but appeared again ten
minutes later with a flask of tea and some glasses.
The next day we trekked up the Palaung village of Pankam
with our guide “Mr Bean”. Here, we
stayed with a family in a long house, were invited in for tea by another family,
read our books at sunset under the Banyan tree (my Aung Sang Suu Kyi book
caused Mr Bean much bafflement) and enjoyed the scandal of a night wedding
between a young girl and a previously married man.
Before we knew it, we were back in Hsipaw. It was early morning again and we were
setting off by train to complete the return journey over the Gokteik Viaduct…
Friday 13 January 2012
Forty Eight Hours in Burma
A handful of observations about Burma, acquired in my first
48 hours:
- Despite the Western media portrayal, Burma feel s fairly developed. I was expecting Kathmandu, not six lane highways and clean streets.
- There are no motorbikes in Rangoon (Yangon)… begging the question, is this really Asia? Normal moto service is resumed in Mandalay.
- Cars drive on the right but so many of the steering wheels are also on the right… car manufacturing has never caught up with the 1970s overnight road lane switch.
- In the middle of roads and roundabouts, there is manicured foliage.
- 75% of all cars are white*
- Your man on the street does not have a mobile phone… unheard of in even the poorest African country. SIMs are available for $500-1000. If you get caught out and about and need to make a call, ladies sit with landline phones by the side of the road.
- Dagon Extra Strong contains 8% alcohol. I may stick to the Myanmar draft else risk becoming far too animated.
- Street food rocks; particularly those little butter nutty pancakes, hot out of the pan…
- I’m legally allowed to go to Hsipaw on the train via the Gokteik Viaduct. My train hero, Paul Theroux, managed it in 1975 but only with a soldier escort and on the sly.
- When you turn on the sink tap, water comes out of a hole in the wall onto the floor… ok maybe that’s just our hotel J
- Burma is proving to be a very friendly place. Parents encourage their young children to stop what they are doing to say hello to us. Teenagers think we are hilarious and post-hello, disappear off giggling.
- When away from the tourist streets, everyone has a smile and a hello for us. One man walking past simply said “Thank you”.
* Source: Cath Statistics Ltd
Thursday 5 January 2012
The Dangers of Hoi An
This entry was to be called “Vietnamese Efficiency” but I
am writing this from a delayed train J In defence of the Vietnamese Railways, this
is the first of five long distance trains which has left late, and it may yet
make up the lost 40 minutes. The other
journeys (9-16 hours) arrived spot on time, or even early. For all the pick-ups and drop offs we have
required throughout Vietnam, everything has gone to plan.
Vietnamese trains have carried me all the way up to 3km
short of the Chinese border (Lao Cai for Sapa) and are now whizzing me past
empty rice fields back to Saigon. So
many of the countries I have visited this year have been having unseasonal
weather (rain during dry season, monsoons carrying on a month beyond normal etc…)
and Vietnam has been no exception.
Whilst luck has most definitely not been on our side, we have “enjoyed”
thoroughly awful weather! The phrases “I
think it might be brightening up…”, “I see some blue over there in the
distance…” have been heard one too many times.
Our schedule has been go-go-go. From Kep in Cambodia to Phu Quoc island, then
up through the Mekong Delta via a home stay in Can Tho and then the craziness
of Saigon. From here to Dalat followed
by a five day motorbike journey from Dalat to Danang. Train up to Hanoi, continuing up to Sapa for
Christmas, back to Hanoi and out to Halong Bay before another overnight train
bringing us to the Imperial City of Hue and then our New Year four day “low
cost chill out” near the beach in the sleepy old-world village of Hoi An.
With the beach only 6km away by £1-a-day bike hire, we
dreamed of happy days reading on the pristine sand with the occasional dip into
the clear blue ocean… but then the rain started. This is when life became dangerous for the
budget. There are not too many things to
in Hoi An in the rain, apart from… shopping (and cookery courses). Between personal tailoring, art, and silk
lanterns, there are sufficient opportunities to put a severe dent in a girl’s
budget. As this is high season in
Vietnam, our train sleepers to Saigon were already booked and couldn’t be
changed. We caved into the dangers of
Hoi An.
Three days and six fittings later, I had three new
dresses, a pair of trousers and a shirt (at a very reasonable price, thank you J ). In addition to this rucksack-refresh, I had
acquired two leaf paintings and an un-confess-able number of silk lanterns of
all shapes, sizes and colours. As the
rucksack needing packing again shortly, a trip to the Post Office was
looming. A recce trip suggested that three month seamail option was surprisingly affordable.
With time to kill on our last morning, we donned our rain
coats and boots and headed downstairs to brave the torrential downpour and head
up to the Post Office. For the first
time, the hotel manager proved useful and not intent on over-charging us for a
service. If we would like to sit down
and wait five minutes, she would call and ask the Post Office staff to come to
the hotel and arrange our packages… at no extra cost! We didn’t quite believe it but sat down and
waited.
Quite literally five minutes later, two ladies arrived on
a moped, carrying a selection of free boxes and a blue bag with all the
requirements for a mini-Post Office. The
blue VNPT
rain coat helped to give them away!
Taking a quick look at our purchases they set to work creating boxes in
the right shape and size whilst we busied ourselves with the paperwork. They had a dizzying array of tape guns with
them – brown tape to cover the box, blue VNPT-branded tape for the edges and
clear tape to cover the address labels.
The magic blue bag also contained a set of metal weighing scales… all
very Mary Poppins.
Before long we had paid (they had even brought change in
both dollars and dong…) and the two ladies were reloading everything onto their
moped (never underestimate what the Vietnamese will load onto their bikes)
and our flying Post Office had left. We
sat, slightly bemused, wondering how we would spend the morning now that our
main errand had been dealt with so efficiently.
We idled with our books, wallets locked away, not trusting ourselves to
venture onto the streets of Hoi An again.
Our boxes had sailed.
"Service with a smile": that'll be my box on the lady's knees at the back... Lynn's at the front, with the magic blue bag on top of it.
Tuesday 6 December 2011
The Art of Idleness
I’m not very good at being idle but it seems like a skill
that should be relatively easy to acquire during a year-long sabbatical. However, nine months in, I realized that I
really hadn't spent much time doing “nothing”.
If not engaged in travelling (due to the amount of “bumping” involved in
journeying in developing countries, this cannot be considered idle time!) or
fitting in lots of sightseeing and activities then one is usually planning
ahead and working out where to go next, how to get there, where to stay, how
long to stay, what to do and how to do it.
Even when seemingly doing ‘nothing’, my brain is working on a mental
to-do list and generally trying to find the answers to the meaning of life (all
of them, all at once).
The Oxford English Dictionary gives a couple of good
descriptions of ‘idleness’:
“Idleness – a state
of inaction; inactivity”
“Idleness –
characterized by inaction or absence of significant activity”
I quite like the second one – “significant” being the operative
word. It also offers “laziness; indolence” but I find these
to be far too judgemental and derogatory.
In our busier and busier lives, “idleness” seems like a luxury, but one
which could allow us to regain control for short periods of time and give the
poor old brain a welcome rest. If
meditation isn’t my thing then maybe selective ‘idleness’ can be.
In the beautiful, laid-back and friendly environment of
Cambodia, it seemed time to give this a go.
The project started in Sihanoukville but really came into its own on a
paradise-style island called Koh Rong.
In my beach bungalow in Sihanoukville, I set myself the task of not
doing anything all day (apart from eat and read) and, more significantly, not
to feel any guilt. The experiment went
pretty well (the laptop remained largely turned off) but as I didn’t actually
like Sihanoukville (some great views but utterly lacking in charm), it wasn’t
the place to continue putting the theory into practice.
Koh Rong is an island 30 miles off the coast of Cambodia
and takes 2-3 hours by boat, depending on the weather. It is a small island with a handful of
villages, and in the main village there are about 75 local families. Koh Rong has only had tourist development on
it for a couple of years and the four “resorts” are small low- keys affairs
aimed at the lower end of the market (bungalows from $15-$45 dollars). One boat runs back and forwards to the
mainland each day, weather depending. If
you arrive without a room reservation and everything is full, there is no way
back that day but a couple of enterprising locals have basic guesthouses or one
of the expats might find you an unfinished building to sleep in.
Idling seemed to come very naturally for me at Monkey Island resort and my
experiment made great strides forward. I
sacrificed an “en-suite” bathroom for a sea front bungalow so that I could lie
in my hammock and watch the sea and sky unimpeded by man-made structures. Life is simple on the island. There is no mains electricity and the
resort’s generator only comes on for lights from dusk until midnight (they use
a car battery during the day for the bar/restaurant, recharged in the evening). With no fan or aircon, you don’t linger long
in bed after sunrise and so I quickly settled into a routine beginning with an
early morning swim followed by some quality time in my hammock before heading
off the 20m to the restaurant for breakfast.
The gentle rhythm of the rest of the day involved mainly
swimming, reading, gazing, snoozing, eating (repeatedly, in a variety of
orders) as well as watching the local entertainment. In the mornings, the local
children would scamper around in the water laughing and splashing and then in
the afternoon, a little black dog would practice his favourite game of winding
up the water buffalo, resulting in the odd chase up the beach.
I had attempted to idle elsewhere but in the end I concluded
that it was easy to idle on the island as the conditions were just right:
1. Everyone
around you is also living in a relaxed manner
2. The
limited decisions required were only based on a couple of options: “Stripy
t-shirt or blue sundress over my bikini?”, “Daily squid special or vegetable
curry?”, “Breakfast now or swim first?”, “Fresh lime juice or a beer?”, “Stroll
to the other lovely beach or just stay here?”, “Read book or gaze out at the
view?”
3. Everything
is padlock-able (every traveller worth their salt has an assortment of
combination padlocks) and so there is no need to carry a key.
4. No
electricity means no wifi and so any random thoughts worth capturing were
jotted down with old-fashioned pen and paper and put aside to be used at a
later date (i.e. now)
I enjoyed watching the new backpackers arrive off the
boat each afternoon, from the comfort of my hammock. They would stop along the beach and shake their
heads in wonder, gazing at the paradise they had chosen. Often, the water
buffalo would be taking his afternoon bathe.
The only thing to do when you arrive is to throw your cossie
on and sprint into the clear blue, shallow warm water. Once they had finished their swims, I would
head into the water for my sunset hour bathe.
I don’t think I’ve spent so long in the water since France in early 90s.
In my four days on the Koh Rong, I did manage a challenging
jungle hike/climb to the other side of the island to the reward of a magnificent
empty beach and a water taxi home. And,
whilst my brain may have been idle of any daily concerns, I have been working
my way through this year’s Man Booker
short list. This intellectual
pursuit feels like utter luxury and fitted perfectly into the idleness agenda. With only “The Sisters Brothers” left on the
list, I concur with the judges; Julian Barnes' “The Sense of an Ending” is
still my favourite.
Returning to the mainland, I worked my way down the coast
via Kampot to an eco-retreat/organic farm up among the pepper farms near Kep. There is plenty to do and see in this area and
so it was time for a new type of idling: integrating it into days that also
contained significant activity. Many of
the people who come out to the Vine
Retreat are expats looking to escape the craziness of Phnom Penh (they quickly
become repeat customers). Whilst I’ve
been here, there has been a fascinating mix of people: short & long term
travellers, Phnom Penh expats and local NGO workers. Whilst lying by the pool, I often hear day
visitors exclaiming from the balcony, “ooh, c’est magnifique…”.
I instantly felt at home
here. I think that there is something
very comforting about leaving your shoes outside on the rack with everyone else’s
(guests & staff) and wandering around barefoot. There are eight simple guest rooms (excellent
mattresses and sheets) and two floors full of places to sit and relax – you can
choose from the long communal table, hammocks, floor cushions and, my personal
favourite, the raised cushioned benches along the outside of the balcony. These overlook the garden and swimming pool,
as well as the local pepper farms and hills, and on a clear day, Vietnam. While having an aperitif with your book, the
resident cat might come and curl up on your lap.
I seem to need time and space
for idling and lots of natural light and fresh air. These are in plentiful supply at the Vine
Retreat and again, there is a pleasing lack of choice! In the evening, you can have their daily set
menu (sourced from their organic vegetable garden and fruit trees) and so the
only question is, what time would you like it? It obviously helps that the incredibly
friendly staff make your bed every day, serve you lovely healthy food and often
pop by with a glass of water and an encouraging word.
Here I have managed to fit in a
day trip to Kampot, a visit to the local village & NGO, a tour of the farm
and pepper plantation, a good early morning hike up a local hill in addition to
hours of interesting conversation with other guests, dips in the pool and yet
more reading. If I make tentative plans
then they inevitably change as I go with the flow and take the opportunities
that present themselves. I haven’t felt
guilty in days.
So, what is the point of all this idling and have I
mastered it? I’ve definitely improved! It’s good for the spirit. If achievable in spurts in a busy city lifestyle,
then it has the potential to hand back control. I think I might need a hammock in London…
Idling photos:
Want to know more about idling? I recently enjoyed Tom Hodgkinson’s book “How
to be Idle” which is described as:
“an antidote to the work-obsessed culture which puts so many
obstacles between ourselves and our dreams. Hodgkinson presents us with a laid-back
argument for a new contract between routine and chaos, an argument for
experiencing life to the full and living in the moment”.
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