Konichiwa bitches!

Upon arriving in Tokyo at 7am I set out on my mission to find my hostel. Step one, study the subway. The garish Tokyo rail map stared back at me with its infinite routes like the legs of a mutant spider. Sprawling in all directions with stop after stop posing an ominous task – especially at that hour after another nerve-wrackingly turbulent flight. There are times that I am grateful that English is a popular language because without it – today I would be lost somewhere within the mass transport system of Japan. However, after my experiences, my first question about this country is: How many stereotypes is it possible to cram into a 3 day period? Let me see…

Stereotype number one: All Japanese are helpful. After repetitively looking at my map, then at the rail map for a period of 10 minutes, a Japanese woman asked if I needed some help. She then proceeded to give me a step by step tutorial on how to use the ticket machine and get to exactly where I was going. Tick.

Stereotype number two: Japan is filled with culture and temples. Check-in at my hostel wasn’t until 3pm so after arriving via a maze of train routes, I was able to dump my main bag and take a stroll. Seeing as though I had 5 hours to kill I came to the conclusion it didn’t matter where I went. Within 15 minutes I was accosted by the sight of a giant temple, looming out from behind the faded maple trees with their red and yellow leaves. The altar out the front was filled with joss sticks as offerings, the wispy, grey smoke escaping into the cloudy Tokyo winter. Could this place be more Japanese?

Stereotype number three: Japanese people love computer games. This one isn’t a stereotype. After a quick meal and few pints of Asahi, Josh and I found ourselves in a gaming arcade. The type of place I would only ever go to in Australia as a teenager. But – as it was 12am and we were out anyway, I decided to see if they had Streetfighter 4. And they did. So I smashed a few challengers at that game, but in between bouts I couldn’t help but notice the number of older men. Josh and I were at the younger end of the age range by far. Business men in suits sat blankly in front of gambling games while other middle-aged punters engaged in zombie shooting. In Australia men go to the pub to postpone the inevitable daily return to the wife and screaming kids. Here they go to the gaming arcade.

Stereotype number four: Japan has awesome sushi. Fact. Pure and simple.

Stereotype number five: Most girls in Japan are hot. Not sure if this really is a stereotype or if it’s something that I have just built up in my own mind (with the help of Josh, sure). Either way – the scenery in your average Tokyo street really is simply stunning. In Harajuku and Shibuya we were punished with wave after wave of gorgeous Japanese girls. Why is it that every guy that comes to Japan ends up with a Japanese girlfriend? Because you would have to be an idiot to turn down an opportunity like this.

To say the least my first days here have been a mixture of all the good things I wanted to enjoy about Japan. I have so much more to write about, but I thought I’d at least give you an idea of how much I am enjoying this place. And I’ve still got 10 weeks! I will fill you in our crazy adventures as they unfold.

And I would walk 500 miles

H’okay, so with the first leg of the trip coming to an end I thought I might hit you with some numbers.

Travel time thus far looks like this: 5 hours by motorbike, 40.5 hours by bus, 8 hours by train, around 16.5 hours by plane and a whole bunch of time on foot and bicycle. Total travel time: 70 hours. Travel friends count: 4 Americans, 3 Canadians, 2 Danes, 2 Norwegians, 2 Japanese, 2 Colombians, 2 Mexicans, 2 Kiwis, 2 Australians, 1 Indonesian, 1 Swiss, 1 Thai, 1 German, 1 Swede, 1 Turk and innumerable poms. Stay periods: 2.5 weeks in Vietnam, 0.5 weeks in Laos, 0.5 weeks in Malaysia.

As a side note to this entry I would like to say that I am completely and utterly smitten with the backpacker social style. If the whole world operated as though everyone were a backpacker, this world would be a better place. The friendliness you experience when approaching a table full of people and introducing yourself is something that everyone could learn from. Even if you are only friends with them for a day, it’s always nice to have someone to share beers, laughs, sights and food with.

Well, the show must go on – so I’d like to introduce my very good friend and former colleague, Mr Joshua James Millard. Simply known to many of you as “Munch”. I’m catching up with him here in Kuala Lumpur and then it’s off to north east asia for some snow, sake and sushi. Bling it on!

Get the cool shoe shine

It’s no wonder that when you pronounce the word Laos properly (Lao) it rhymes with ‘wow’, because this place is a strange melting pot of cultures. The people and language seem similar to Thailand, but within the cities there are strong French influences in the architecture and food. Plus some of the temples have Burmese elements. Mix that with the fact that almost everything outside of the capital seems rural and it’s difficult to piece together a mental picture. However, this place is a welcome change from Vietnam – Hanoi in particular. So far from the screeching motorbike horns that pierce the air like the cries of strangled geese, Laos is is like a library. The people are friendly, but not in a “hurry up and buy” kind of way. The tuk tuk drivers are polite, simply offering you a ride with the greeting “Tuk tuk, sir?”. Quite a contrast from the Vietnamese “Hey! You! Motorbike?! Hello!”. They’re like the human manifestation of spam email! Anyway – true to the guidebooks, Laos really does seem like one of the most chilled out places on earth. And that’s coming from a Solomon Islander!

After (yet another) 10 hour bus ride from Vietnam I was able to make friends with some fellow travellers. My companions for my first day in Laos were two Norwegian guys and the oh-so-cute Yuka from Japan. A short, skinny smoker with skin like porcelain – basically the stereo typical Japanese girl. Her youthful face was punctuated by a dimple in her right cheek and numerous flouro coloured earrings dotting her lobes like sprinkles on a cake. Our arrival point was Savannakhet in the south - the second largest city in Laos. My friends hadn’t booked any accommodation so they came with me to where I had booked. That kind of worked out well because I shared with Yuka and the two Norwegians shared – thus halving our accommodation costs. After dumping our stuff we decided to look around town. As it was already dark we found it hard to see much, but we determined pretty quickly that Savannakhet was rural. So we found a place to eat, had a beer and then went back to the guesthouse. Yuka then told me she was feeling ’sreepy’ so she was going to bed (aw – cute!). The next day I bid farewell to my buddies and headed up to the capital (Vientiane) in search of a re-entry visa to Vietnam. And because I am such a hardcore adventurer (yia!) I decided to bus first and ask questions later when leaving Vietnam. However that didn’t work out too well and now I am having to pay for an extra ticket and fly from here to Kuala Lumpur to catch my plane to Tokyo. The saga continues.

Vientiane is an interesting place. I performed my wandering ritual that occurs in every new city I visit and managed to bump into most of the attractions. Apparently over the years this city has been laid waste to many times over – once resulting in a complete abandoning. This fact is emphasised by the layout of the streets in a reasonably coherent fashion. The french had some kind of say in the rebuilding so they made it in a more ‘western’ style. Merci. The attraction that completely dwarfs ANY other attraction in town would have to be That Luang. A truly regal sight, the golden spires of this stupa rise high into the air. Decoration befitting a site that is said to contain a hair from the head of the Buddha himself. Heavy. This extravagant structure houses a few small worship altars and numerous buddha statues, but it is difficult to get past anything other than the first appearances. I think I’ll let the photos do the talking.

So after a short stay in Laos, it’s off to Malaysia and then on to Tokyo. I will give you some more pics and words soon.

This is a song about the way things are

Over the last couple of weeks I have noticed little things here and there that I never get around to writing down. So consider this entry as a little bit of a side note to the entire trip.

One thing I have failed to mention earlier is the price of beer here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen beers being sold for 26c in Australia. Or anywhere else in the world for that matter! However in Hanoi, there on the street corner, were beers being sold for 3,000 dong. I couldn’t help myself. Actually, nobody can help me when beer is that cheap. But this isn’t a once off occurence. The most expensive beer I have found thus far is the extortionate AUD$2.50 that they were charging for Tiger in a Hoi An bar. Dear oh dear.

Another little story was about my first long bus ride down south. This particular day I had stayed at a small hotel and had to check out before 12pm. My bus left at 9pm that night. So as to make the most of my time I decided that the national park bush walk would be a good way to while away the hours. I know what you’re thinking “Nathan went for a bushwalk?”. I know most of you think the only natural beauty I like to look at is walking down Rundle street, but you’re wrong, okay? Anyway, I hadn’t counted on it being so hot that day and as a result was drenched with sweat within minutes. After a further 7kms I was soaked to the bone. This discomfort was further compounded by the fact that when I returned to the hotel I didn’t have anywhere to shower as I had already checked out. So I waited for the bus which arrived a lazy 2 hours late. I was then unapologetically crammed into a bed on what is known in Vietnam as a ’sleeper bus’. These buses travel overnight and have three rows of bunk beds. The ideal way to travel long distances without having to pay for overnight accommodation. In theory. Sadly, my bed was a little too small. Which meant I had to bend my legs when lying down. I had to wriggle around for a good hour or so before finding a comfortable position. And as I lay there, body in the shape of a figure four, I thought “This is bullshit – 11 more hours of this?”. As the rain bucketed down outside and the bus ploughed on through wave after wave of deep, muddy water, I tried my best to get some sleep. But that all came to an abrupt end when the bus driver felt the urge to put on The Best of Boney M. The DVD, no less. The onboard tv sparked into action with the volume cranked up to an eardrum busting 20 – “HOORAY! HOORAY! IT’S A HOLI-HOLIDAY! DINGA-DING-DING-DONG-DINGA-DING-DING-DONG! IT’S A HOLI-HOLIDAY!” Trying to drown the sound out with my ipod earphones only served to exacerbate the cacophony of the pop quartet’s greatest hits. In the end, I was forced to just laugh at it all. The real icing on the cake came when I arrived at my destination. Weary from sleeping in the shape of a pretzel and the excruciating aural torture at the hands of Boney M, all I wanted to do was get changed. But as all of our bags had been stored under the bus and we had been driving through huge puddles for 12 hours, of course every last item of clothing I had was sopping wet. Dirty, smelly, tired and now without any clean clothes. I actually did laugh when that happened. All part of the adventure I guess.

The final story is from this morning. Whilst down south in that little non-touristy town I was waiting for the train. Obviously I was the only non-vietnamese in the whole place. And as I sat there with my backpack waiting like everyone else, a young father walked over with his 3 year old son. Taking his son by the hand and standing no more than 1 metre away from me he simply looked at the boy, muttered something in Vietnamese and then pointed straight at me as if to say “Look! There’s a foreigner!” Haha. I felt like I was in a zoo! Luckily being a white Solomon Islander has conditioned me for these type of situations.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside

The road less travelled. We all want to go there. Somewhere less touristy. Somewhere that we can just lie on a beach and not be hassled to buy something. Well – I’d have to say that Quy Nhon is definitely in that category. After being unceremoniously dumped from my bus is some nondescript town after a 7 hour bus trip, I discovered that I had to take a 20km moto-taxi ride to the place I was staying. So as my driver sped through the darkness, dodging the mini lakes that were threatening to consume the entire road, the rain hammered down on us. The faster we drove, the wetter we got. But after the learnings from my previous trips, I had carefully placed all of my clothing inside plastic bags inside my backpack. So my bag was wet but my clothes were dry. In your face mother nature! So as I squelched my way into the hostel I realised I had come to a pretty obscure town. There were only two people in the whole place. I was shown to my dorm room where nobody except I was staying. And as my subsequent rides around town would prove – children here are still surprised to see a whiteman. Yes, okay…hello, hello, hello!

Nonetheless this place is very nice. The hostel is quite literally across the road from the beach so I can eat my meals watching the sun set over the sea and the lack of tourists makes it a joy to ride a bicycle through town or just have a walk. Harassment low, enjoyment high. I was also able to visit ancient Cham towers without the hoards of foreigners that usually hang about the places fucking up your perfect photos. Beautiful, ancient, terra cotta towers reaching high into the skies, decorated with indian style sculptures. Couple those with yet another dragon filled pagoda and a giant buddha standing in a pink lotus – who wouldn’t be happy with that?

Anyway, this was just a quick dart down south to see how the do it in these parts and tomorrow it’s back to the north. I think I can hear Laos calling my name.

By the rivers of Babylon

Since my arrival in Vietnam I have copped the brunt of furious hawking by many a local passerby. I have been offered fruit, books, girls, drugs, glasses, bracelets, caps and shoes. Sometimes all from the same person. However, I have been very generous with the dong since arriving. And I will let you interpret that last sentence however you like. Hoi An is tourist town. No two ways about it, but in a lot of ways it’s a bit of a change from other places. It’s disctinct history of trade in ceramics and reputation for impeccable tailoring gives it a different feel to other towns I have been through. There is no denying the talent of the tailors who line the streets. Suits, jackets, dresses and even shoes can be made to order here. And this is where I came unstuck. After following my mexican friends to pick up their purchases from a local shoemaker I was tempted by a pair of trendy looking sneakers. After asking how much they were (US$25), I realised that there was no way I could possibly buy a decent pair of shoes for that price in Australia. The clincher was the fact that I could have them made in ANY colours I wanted. And as I left that shop, knowing I’d be able to pick up and brand new pair of tailor made shoes in my own chosen colours within 24 hours, I could only think “what colour will the next pair that I get be?”. It’s ludicrous. But great at the same time.

To neglect to mention the food in Hoi An would be a crime against humanity. Upon a strong recommendation my little band of friends (1 canadian, 2 mexicans, 2 poms and me) set out to find a place that had been fabled to have the best food in Hoi An. We searched up and down the main streets where it was supposed to be. We asked numerous people who all pointed in different directions. And when we were on the brink of giving up, we stumbled across Bale Well Cafe. Or Mecca as I now call it. A place where all food lovers must make a pilgrimage. This unique cafe, tucked into a small side street, had no menu. Everyone simply gets the same meal. Giggety. When a restaurant can remain open selling only one set of dishes – it’s got to be good. But we had no idea of the imminent feeding frenzy. The first bowls of vegetables came out in with small spring rolls. Then the rice paper. Soon after arrived the succulent, wood fired chicken and pork on skewers followed by the satay style sauce. The idea was (as usual) to roll the vegetables, chicken, sauce, spring rolls and chilli in a pice of rice paper and then dip it in the sauce. However I had never tasted anything like this before. The chicken was so delicious. And the satay sauce was just amazing. Within 15 minutes we had eaten pretty much everything on the table and all sat there, stunned, wondering what had just happened to our tastebuds. This country continues to amaze me.

Each full moon has a special signifigance in Vietnamese culture. People make small offerings out the fronts of the shops with sticks of incense filling the air with their sweet, musky smoke. However apparently the November full moon is partuicularly important. Not sure why. But we only realised this last night when huge numbers of people had gathered in the streets to watch martial arts displays and traditional music. The balmy evening sky was lit up by the red and yellow lanterns which lined the doorways of the houses and shops. And all of this was set to the serence backdrop of the river, the colours reflecting vividly in the calm waters. I guess we were just lucky to be in town that night.

Anyway, this place is wicked. I realised that I was truly on holidays yesterday when I my day went a little something like this. 10am – Wake up, shower. 11am – Ride my bike to a local street vendor and buy some banana fritters for breakfast. 11:30am – Ride down to the water front, take some pictures. 12pm – Ride to the beach. Take a walk, play volleyball with some Danish girls. Grilled fish for lunch. 4pm – Ride back to the hotel, chill. 7pm – Dinner with friends and then bar hopping. 1am – Cruise back to the hotel. Then I got a good night’s sleep getting ready to discover ancient ruins the next day. Yeah – my life sucks. Next stop Quy Nhon. Apparently it’s even beachier that here! I’ll be the judge of that.

Might trick me once

I’m confused. I totally just got scammed. I was walking along and this guy waved at me. As usual I shrugged him off and told him that I wasn’t interested in a motorbike ride. But he persisted and said he wasn’t a driver. He told me I looked like his son in law who was Australian/Vietnamese. Yeah, whatever. He went on to say that he had just finished work as a bonsai garden teacher this morning and was going to have a beer and that he wanted me to come along. I was still pretty cautious about it, but I thought there could be no harm. And you know what – as I write this I am starting to realise how strange it seems. So we sat down and I told him I couldn’t really drink beer at 10am so we got some water. He told me all about his family living in Melbourne and how his Aunty was a nurse married to an Australian guy she met during the war. His knowledge of Australia was excellent. He even had a good idea of how far apart Sydney and Melbourne were and the different colours of Australian bank notes. He told me he had three kids and how he lived in a village 20kms out of town. Even at this stage I was pretty cautious. I was still looking for the scam. Where was it hiding? Anyway, we sat there for about and hour talking about what I did and what he did and our families. Then he said we should eat something. Actually – I think I suggested it (duh!). He said he wanted to go to some place that served chicken on skewers. And this is the thing – it totally didn’t look like he knew where he was going because he stopped and asked people where the place was, etc. So we found some place and sat down. The meal consisted of chicken skewers with vegetables along with chilli and rice paper for rolling. They were delicious I must admit. So we ate, drank beer and chatted about everything from Saigon to Japan. Another hour passed and we eventually finished eating and I really felt as though he had been at it too long for this to be a scam. He seemed very genuine. However on the way back he suggested that I might be able to buy some wine for his temple. Yeah for your “temple”. Like an idiot I agreed. The man had gone to all the trouble of singling me out on the street, buying me some beers and lunch, spinning a story about his family – he even got my email address for fuck’s sake! I was so lulled into a false sense of friendliness and goodwill that I couldn’t see through his little magic trick. We stopped at a shop and he asked the woman if they had wine. In his defence he did ask me what level of wine I wanted to buy (low, medium or high). And I said (idiot!) medium was fine. Medium was like 500,000 dong. So like $40. But in a way he only sort of half scammed me because I wasn’t carrying much money on me so he only got about 300,000 out of me. Which is still like AUD$30. It was a weird experience. But well done to him I say. I had a couple of exit points throughout the piece that I just didn’t take so I kind of deserved it. So what have I learnt today, you ask? I’ve learnt that dropping your guard can be costly. But I think this experience has also made me question the money/earning system I have become accustomed to in Australia. This guy worked so hard to scam $30 out of me (which included lunch and beers) and I could probably make that back in 30 minutes in my line of work. Without leaving my chair. Anyway, between this and the flooded bus saturating all my clothes – I think I’m getting the adventure holiday I was hoping for!

Moving to the country

This is the Vietnam I came to see! Rivers with sheer, stone cliffs rising from the water. Villages with a complete menagerie of animals walking the roads. Splashing through knee deep waters on a motorbike. These are the images that you see in books – and these have been the experiences afforded me by the areas surrounding the small town of Ninh Binh.

Having never visited Vietnam or Asia I must admit that I was expecting something a little more rural when I arrived. But then again, Hanoi has twice as many people as South Australia (6 times what Solo has). So visiting this area has been amazing. My day started with a visit to the Ngo Dong river where a team of mother and daughter paddled us out to some very odd caves. Some of the weirdest rock formations I have ever seen. The cliffs that rose from the water were crazy – almost vertical pillars of rock covered in sparse vegetation (and sometimes goats). Thick, bubbly clouds littered the sky and formed the back drop to what was already a sensory overload for me. This was all very lovely until the sales pitches started to fly in from circling merchant boats. So I bought some bananas and fended off a beer, some sesame snacks, better bananas and a soft drink. However on the way back (as we were rowing) the lady tried to sell us some embroidery. And t-shirts. And money pouches. And mandarin shirts. All of which we refused. She then asked for a tip. Then as we left the boat some dude that had taken a photo of us from the shore asked us to buy a copy of it for 10,000 (AUD$1). And I still refused. Makes me wonder what he’s going to do with that photo of me and some englishman in a boat with two vietnamese ladies. But that’s Vietnam for you. If you can sell it – then sell it!

As a cautious person in general I have learnt to err on that side even further whilst travelling. However, today I threw caution to the wind and decided to go with the meal that the woman in the restaurant was whole-heartedly spruiking. The goat. Which apparently is a local delicacy. But I would say that is an understatement. After ordering, the plate of goat meat spiced with lemongrass, garlic and sesame seeds arrived accompanied by separate bowls of fresh mint, rice paper, green bananas, starfruit, lime, salt and chili. The idea was to wrap a little of each of the ingredients in a piece of the rice paper and dip it in a light green sauce, which I can only guess was made from yum because it tasted amazing. Forget a party in my mouth – this was a fucken rave! With the crazy lasers and the smoke machine and everything! Even when you look at those ingredients together in writing it’s hard to fathom what they might taste like. But let me tell you, when you mix meat, vegetables, herbs and fruit – it’s dynamite.

After the boat ride and lunch I was taken to another pagoda site where the road had been covered by the recent rains. I wondered if it was worth the walk to get there after my motorbike driver had told me we had to wade. But as is so often the case, I didn’t have anything better to be doing, so we went. When we arrived, there beside the river, was a beautiful, dragon filled pagoda, flanked by the near vertical stone cliffs. My driver took a seat with an old man and woman who looked like the groundskeepers of the site and they invited me to drink tea with them. And as we sat in the cool of the shade, sipping chinese tea and eating grapefruit with salt, I could clearly see three groups of people from totally different places. The old dude that chills and makes sure the pagoda is clean while fixing his fishing net. The middle-aged driver that comes out here everyday with tourists. And the young(ish) tourist, visiting Vietnam for the first time. The old guy spoke some French. The driver spoke some English. I spoke no Vietnamese. But we all liked tea. And we all liked grapefruit. And that was all we needed.

I could write forever about this day, but I won’t. It was awesome. And it makes me feel refreshed about what to expect from the remainder of my time here.

Yes we can!

Fuck yeah. In your face John McCain!

Running on the winding road

I’m not sure quite what to make of Hanoi yet. But I guess the most noticeable thing about the place are the “road rules”. And I use those words in the loosest possible sense. I honestly don’t know which side of the street people legally drive on here. I heard tonight that apparently fifty percent of road accidents occur from people driving on the wrong side of the road. Hanoi is dirty. But I don’t see it as being any dirtier than Honiara. If anything it’s cleaner. They don’t seem to have those big 44 gallon bins that we Solomon Islanders so love to overfill. I’ve also noticed the number of tourists in some areas of town. God, it’s like they’re not even making an effort. Nothing says tourist like a bum bag. And nothing says cultural sensitivity like a pair of tight white jeans and a low cut top.

Tonight I was taken out for dinner by a girl that Richard knows here (thanks bro!). Well, that’s what I thought anyway. Apparently she’s friends with Emma who was friends with Darlene who goes out with Richard who is friends with me. So at dinner I was introduced to the other people as a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend. Which I quite legitimately was. Anyway, we had some food at a restaurant called 69 bar-restaurant. Poor choice of name if you ask me. The special was called the 69 special.  Come on. I expect it in Thailand but not here! They had a new chef tonight so the food took ages, but when it came out it was damn tasty. Vietnamese spring rolls and cold rolls with generous amounts of mint, minced pork and prawn meat all accompanied by a sweet dipping sauce. This was followed by some kind of beef with rice, Vietnamese noodle salad and a delicious tofu dish. Plus fresh fruit smoothies made from bananas, mangoes and other fruits. All for the princely sum of 7 dollars each. Which in Vietnam is almost a rip-off.

The weather is nice. Nevermind all that “highest rainfall in a quarter century” jive that the news is talking. It’s warm and mainly fine with the chance of an afternoon shower. Everyday. Wednesday’s journey will take me to Ninh Binh which is a small country town en route to Hoi An. I will be staying there for a few days to get a bit of country flavour and then it’s on to the place that people have told me (and I quote) has “the best food in Vietnam”. If that’s true then it should be well worth the sixteen hour bus ride. I’ll have the dog with a noodle salad please.