Please note we've uploaded two new blog entries today, so keep reading down!
H: What has surprised you?
Z: I'm surprised we haven't had any physical problems (recent events notwithstanding) as a result of all the cycling. We both expected knee pain and chronic nappy rash, but neither the distances nor the heat have ever felt like much of a problem. I'm also surprised how difficult we've both found it to modify our highly-strung responses to local behaviour; the impulse to impose our own values was powerful.
Z: What has surprised you?
H: I'm surprised how few westerners we've met and even seen, in all the countries. Apart from that, Sumatra surprised me – how awful it was compared with how I remembered it.
H: What was your favourite cycling day?
Z: Funnily enough our longest one (127kms, 8 hours of cycling), on the Ho Chi Minh Highway in Vietnam. We started very early and the morning light was gorgeous. We saw a church being built, covered in precarious-looking bamboo scaffolding. The scenery consisted of karst mountains, getting higher as we got close to the Lao border. There was next to no traffic. The dwellings became noticeably more basic, and it was impossible to find a cold drink as nobody had a fridge! There were even a couple of hilly stretches with no dwellings at all; most unusual in densely populated Vietnam. A very funny thing happened: you were gorging yourself on some peanut brittle stuff which you said was 'more-ish', but then I noticed loads of insects had got stuck in the solidified sugar syrup, presumably as the stuff was drying in the sun on the side of the road somewhere! It rained that afternoon which cooled things down before we tackled a huge mountain pass and descended into a stunning mountainous National Park stretching to the Lao Border. The first of many bits of jungle we've cycled through. I remember incredible insect noises, and there had been some dramatic landslides over the winding road. The final 20kms were a bit stressful as we had to cycle like the clappers to reach the town before it got dark. We almost got caught in amongst two bulls having a scrap on the road. We passed the 1000km mark that day. Finally we rolled into Phong Na, desperately hoping to find a guesthouse. As if by magic a guesthouse switched on its neon sign at the very moment we were approaching and two girls stood outside beckoning to us like sirens. The room was clean and we slept soundly after a couple of beers!
H: I agree. That was my favourite day too.
H: What was your favourite non-cycling day?
Z: Diving at the Similan Islands in Thailand and seeing leopard sharks.
H: We were off the beaten track about 90% of the time, which was fairly hard work. Describe one or two of the moments that made that effort worthwhile.
Z: Some of the incidents on the Ho Chi Minh Highway that we've already described on the blog are good examples, such as the time those teachers drove to the next town and came back with iced tea for us, bought with their tiny salaries. And the amazing evening with the young English teacher and 'the dove porridge' lady. Our journey up the Mekong in Cambodia was a visual feast, and there was that lady who brought us parcels of sticky rice as we sheltered from torrential rain there. Two thirteen year old girls stick in my mind too, one in Vietnam and one in Sumatra: both so self-assured and so genuinely grateful to practice their English with us. It's people like all of these that are the reason we chose southeast Asia for our trip.
H: I thought Vietnam and Cambodia were both more enjoyable when off the beaten track, whereas Indonesia was definitely more enjoyable in places where The White Man had been before.
Z: What was your favourite conventionally touristic thing that we did?
H: I can't choose one. The Great Wall of China was incredible. Near Ninh Binh in Vietnam we discovered a newly-opened place where we were rowed by a young woman (using her feet!) for two hours through a serious of lakes and incredible limestone caves. We were the only people there. Apart from that, in Sumatra I enjoyed our overnight jungle trek a great deal more than I expected. What about you?
Z: Yes, mine was the orangutan trek. And the warriors at Xi'an in China.
H: You love the sea best. Which was your favourite bit of sea?
Z: We swam from our diving boat to one of the uninhabited Similan Islands and walked along a picture-perfect white sand beach before swimming back to the boat through the turquoise water. It doesn't get much better than that.
Z: You love lakes and we've seen quite a few. Which was your favourite?
H: We took a boat across Tonle Sap Lake in Cambodia, from Siem Reap to Battambang. The photos you took show how visually striking that was, particularly the stilt houses whose residents have to adjust the level of the floor according to the season. We were there at the time of year when the Mekong river flows 'backwards' into the lake, so their floors were only about a metre below their ceilings - incredible. But my favourite lake of all was Danau Maninjau in Sumatra, because it's beautiful and tranquil and because it reminded me of being there with Katie 14 years ago!
Z: Say something about the bikes and our gear.
H: The bikes were an awesome investment, not least because Robin Thorn, Lisa and Andy were only ever an email away when we needed reassurance about how to maintain them. As for gear I'm very happy with the decisions we made about what to take, though in retrospect we could have managed without the tent. The two laundry bowls we bought in Hanoi were invaluable, weren't they, as was the kettle you bought in Haiphong. Let's do another blog entry specifically for prospective cycle-tourists, about our gear, our route and so on.
Z: OK, but Gabriel asked you 'what is your favourite part of your bike and/or carefully planned kit?'.
H: Hmm, good question. Maybe this laptop, which Gabe encouraged me to get. Every time I prepared a blog entry I felt really good. It was my way of consolidating the experience. It's nice to know people enjoyed reading it.
H: Which was your favourite accommodation?
Z: Anywhere that was clean was always a relief at the end of a long day! The most lovely place was La Noria in Siem Reap, where we had a little stilt house overlooking a garden and a pool. I reckon my mum and dad would love it there.
H: And the worst?
Z: There are many contenders, but the one that made me want to cry with disbelief was the filthy mosquito-infested truck-stop in Ipuh in Sumatra, after we'd cycled 111kms and I'd just been splatted by a cow pat run over by a truck.
H: Was that your lowest moment?
Z: Rather than a single moment there was a period of several days in Sumatra when I was at my wit's end. The people were awful; specifically I absolutely couldn't bear being the object of the sexist male gaze. At the end of most days the accommodation was also awful and laughably over-priced. It felt relentless and we had the prospect of maybe two whole months of it ahead of us. We couldn't even get a f*cking beer!
H: What was your highest moment then?
Z: Well I don't really do 'high', do I, but the moments when I felt most elated were quite random ones in the saddle, usually provoked by a combination of nice weather, nice landscapes, safe roads, smiling people and interesting stuff to photograph.
Z: What was your highest moment?
H: No question.. my highest moment was arriving in Thailand. I was quite literally punching the air. The tourist board slogan 'Amazing Thailand' is spot on. Goodness only knows what the other countries' tourist boards even do!
Z: What do you think was the funniest moment of the trip?
H: Things often seemed funnier in retrospect than at the time. We've been very good about keeping a crudely-written journal every day, and a couple of times I've sat crying laughing reading back over past entries.
H: What have you learned?
Z: A lot I think. I've gained a strong sense of my own mortality, mainly as a result of having seen so many road accidents along the way. It's also been amazing to see so many of life's basic processes laid-bare: family life, food production, even cremation. Stuff that's hidden from view in our own culture. It's been an education, a visual feast. It's a weird thing though, cruising through all these countries looking at people's shit-arse villages and feeling slightly superior and also slightly guilty. So are we going to do anything about it? No, we're going to go back to our nice comfortable lives, thank you very much. Does that make us awful and the village people the salt of the earth? Probably. Should we have done this whole thing 'for charity'? We've got some ideas on that front. We've spent hours talking about all this, and we haven't reached any conclusions. And, crass as it may sound, I fancy some touring in the developed world next, with the landscape rather than the way of life as the 'main attraction'. I fancy Argentina, with a big fat steak and a bottle of Malbec to look forward to at the end of the day!
The trip confirmed something I already knew about you, that you are a natural navigator. That's why I started calling you GPS Darvill Jnr. I also learned that – contrary to popular belief – you are surprisingly happy to go 'off-spreadsheet', as Allan put it.
Z: Have you learned anything about yourself or about me?
H: I've learned that I love the nomadic thing; the not knowing where each day will take us. I've learned something about you that I hadn't really noticed before: you are very funny.
Z: Anything you think other people will notice and be surprised about?
H: They'll notice that you are leaner and probably be surprised that despite our physical achievement I still have such a fat arse! They might also be surprised to see how many white hairs I've got, now that I'm letting them grow. Amazing, really, that so many people asked if you are my mother!
Z: Hmm, then there was the man who said I look like Elton John. I preferred the Balinese man who said 'Hannah is beautiful. Zoe is a tomboy'. Finally, recognition of my true identity!
H: Any regrets about the trip?
Z: Only that we didn't always manage to contain our bad tempers; we sometimes took out our irritation on local people who were only trying to be friendly.
H: You mean me, right?
Z: Well, I ended up doing it too. But right from the start you did seem to get irrationally angry sometimes. Occasionally it seemed like you weren't enjoying it at all.
H: I'm sorry about that. I can't deny I am incredibly bad-tempered at the best of times, and all the shouting really did my nut. But my dad says in the Buddhist way of thinking you shouldn't beat yourself up about things like this!
Z: What on earth will the two of us be like when we actually are grumpy old ladies!
Z: What about you, then? Any regrets?
H: I deeply regret having to fly from Beijing to Hanoi and from Jakarta to Bali. We wanted to travel overland. In a way I feel responsible for both of these cock ups. I also regret the time I spent not-learning-Indonesian instead of reading novels. Ironically once we got to Indonesia I thought 'sod you lot', gave away the 'Teach Yourself' book and started reading novels, and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Z: You're an obsessional planner but you decided not to plan the trip much. Was that the right decision?
H: On the whole, yes. I enjoyed planning as we went, and sometimes not planning. Anyway, it would have been impossible to plan the whole thing. Even the internet does not provide all the information we would have needed.
Z: And was it the right decision not to carry guidebooks?
H: Again yes. We had a city guide for Beijing which was useful for contextual information. For Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand we had only the 'graphic guide to southeast Asia' my brother had given us, which provided simple schematic maps and town plans and was completely invaluable. For Indonesia we had no guidebook at all, only the internet. Actually I found not having guidebooks very liberating.
Z: What about maps?
H: Ah. The road atlas we bought in Vietnam was excellent. For Cambodia, Thailand and Sumatra we had to make do with whole-country maps, which of course were insufficient. In Bali we had a more detailed one, which enabled us to navigate via minor roads and avoid the worst of the maniacs. Navigationally, getting out of cities was always the most difficult thing with or without maps; the compass was invaluable on those occasions.
H: Let's talk about our senses. Which music is most evocative of the trip for you?
Z: I think the compilations Tessa and Rich did for us. What about you?
H: A specific song by Joan Armatrading, which Julia put on her compilation, and 'Homophobia' by the Pet Shop Boys, which Adrian put on his. Plus (thinking of Sumatra especially!) the Zoe Lewis song 'Don't Touch Me', with Alison playing on it, and the whole album of oud music, which Diane gave us.
Z: Regarding other sounds, motorbike engines and beeping in Vietnam, mosques in Sumatra and gamelan music in Bali. Plus jungle noises everywhere: geckos, cicadas and frogs.
H: Which smell is most evocative for you?
Z: Nice evocative smells include the fresh cinnamon bark you found in Bogor Botanical Gardens, and the smell of the sea on the few occasions we cycled right next to it. My worst smell is that rancid smell you get in southeast Asian markets.. rotting fish or rubbish.
H: My worst smell is roadkill. In Thailand there were so many rotting dogs, and – unfortunately – lots of live ones too. My favourite evocative smells are rice paddies and the jasmine tea we bought in Georgetown to make with our little kettle.
H: My mum asked, have you picked up any good recipes for frog?
Z: Fry it. It really does taste like chicken.
H: My mum also wants to know which was our favourite meal of the trip?
Z: That would have to be one of the ones we had in Beijing. Dumplings with garlic sauce and fresh clams, maybe. Or the Szichuan hot pot that nearly blew our heads off but was somehow unforgettable! What about you?
H: I particularly enjoyed good meals we had after periods of culinary, er, compromise. For example, our 'Julia and Alison' meal at the Oriental in Bangkok after three weeks in Cambodia. And that excellent Indonesian meal at the posh mall in Jakarta, surrounded by well-to-do Indonesians minding their own business and not shouting 'hello buleh' at us.
Z: What about drinks?
H: In Vietnam and Cambodia we had fresh sugar cane juice every day and I still miss it. And Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk is to die for!
Z: What about juices? Favourite fruits?
H: Adrian, Gabe and Craig I think. They all emailed us regularly. Oh you mean fruit juices? Avocado is my favourite, with chocolate milk in. And banana. Yours is soursop, isn't it?
Z: Yes, and to eat I love salaks, mangosteens and custard apples. Mangos can also be amazing.
H: Gabriel asked us 'which western luxury do you miss most?'.
Z: That's easy. Red wine.
Z: He also asked 'what are you most looking forward to when you get back to London?'.
H: Friends! It's a good job the two of us get on well, because we've really been on our own for five months, haven't we.
Z: Your mum also asked which is my favourite photo that I've taken. That's really hard, but if I have to choose I'll choose the series I took in Cholong (Chinatown) in Saigon, because I really enjoyed taking those. My favourite portraits are probably of those kids in Cambodia.. the little cross-eyed girl and the rest of that group.
H: I like the pictures you took of rural scenes in Cambodia, because they helped me notice things more.
Z: Which aspect of southeast Asia would you like to import to England?
H: Cheap, delicious streetfood.
Z: And which aspect of England would you like to introduce to southeast Asia?
H: Where shall I start? Driving tests. Mirror-signal-maneuver. Not riding your motorbike the wrong way up the street. Not throwing all your rubbish on the floor. I'd like to introduce feminism and queuing to Indonesia.
Z: And not blowing your snot on the floor. Sexism and heterosexism are so much a part of the culture in so much of the world; we'll need to factor that reality into our next choice of destination I think.
H: No shit.
Z: Do you think we'll go back to any of the places we've visited on this trip?
H: Thailand, again and again. We both agree on that. Beijing and other bits of China too. I'd be interested to go to Vietnam in 10+ years time as it's changing fast. Cambodia and Indonesia, no, probably not in a hurry, though I'd recommend Angkor Wat to everyone that hasn't seen it.
Z: I liked Cambodia more than you did, I think. Maybe I'll go back there during one of my many long holidays.
H: Good for you. Finally, my mum asked what's the first thing you'll do when you get home?
Z: Reacquaint myself with the house, make a cup of tea, go up to the High Street and buy some food to cook, then pop over and see the boys and my heavily pregnant sister. What about you?
H: Eat the food you cook, and try on the jeans I couldn't fit into when we left. Maybe in the other order.
Image by Julia Lloyd Design. Ask us for Julia's contact details. (C) Julia Lloyd 2008.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
To Bali in two amusing stages
Thank you for the many kind messages we have received. In our blog entries we've generally avoided a 'we did this, then we did that' style, but it seems appropriate to update you on what happened next after our accident in Sumatra on 3rd December.
True to their word the Sumatran police did get us safely to Jakarta, but not by taking us all the way themselves: instead they drove us – siren on, purely for show – to a bus depot where they had chartered an entire coach to take us to the capital! The coach driver drove very carefully to the ferry and onwards through West Java to Jakarta while we (and our bikes) reclined amongst cushions and eiderdowns with coffee in plastic bags feeling the most relaxed we had in a while. As our boat was docking at Merak we were amused to see a group of young men jumping from the back of a departing ferry and swimming back to the quay – just for fun – and tried to imagine such larks being permitted on the Dover-Calais.
Jakarta exceeded our expectations. Six nights is a lot longer than most travellers spend in the city, but after our month in the Dark Ages we were quite happy to do the rounds of colonial museums and cafes, upmarket international restaurants and cinemas and tranquil botanical gardens using airconditioned taxis, buses and trains. On our first evening in the city Zoe popped out to buy water and returned wide-eyed having seen several bulehs (white people) and even a 'Mister Negro' (what the Indonesians call black people)!
We also paid two visits to a posh Chinese-run clinic where Hannah's dressings were twice replaced amidst much tutting at the quality of the original work! (Apparently the chest x-rays should have been taken from the side, not from the back.)
We decided after much discussion to fly straight from Jakarta to Bali. 'Gutted' doesn't begin to describe our disappointment at having to cut short our epic tour, but Java on a bike might have been suicide and the idea of public transport (especially with one of us unable to lift a bike) was no less stressful.
So we booked ourselves a cheap flight with Air Asia and got rid of some stuff in anticipation of having to pay for 30-40 kilos of excess baggage (again!).
At Jakarta Airport we had another quintessentially Indonesian experience. Air Asia's website doesn't specify any policy regarding the carriage of bicycles, so we simply deflated our tyres and wheeled the bikes to the check-in desk. Unfortunately the check-in clerk had other ideas and informed us that Indonesia has a 'special rule' that bikes have to be dismantled as they are a risk (to other people's luggage, apparently). We refused to dismantle the bikes and an impasse was reached, at which point Zoe was sorely tempted to jump straight on a plane to London. Then Hannah – rapidly turning into her mother – had a brainwave: 'we have to fly to Bali because we had an accident, you see; look at my dramatic-looking iodine-soaked bandages'. The damsel in distress routine provided the clerk with exactly the excuse he needed to forget all about the 'special rule' and set about preparing our bikes for their flight. We looked on with amusement as he leaped about, taping bits of cardboard awkwardly around random components he felt represented a risk. Then he insisted the bikes be 'wrapped'. After watching the wrapping service people try to balance the first bicycle on their suitcase-sized turntable Zoe suggested they do the job by hand. A large crowd gathered to watch the spectacle of two large bicycles with foot-long cardboard pedals being mummified in heavy-duty clingfilm. Next the clerk personally placed the bikes onto the luggage conveyor-belt, treating Zoe to an hilarious 'Eddy and Pats' moment as a bike got stuck and he had to run on the spot whilst shouting for someone to hit the emergency stop. And the best bit of all? We didn't pay a cent for our excess baggage!
Since arriving in Bali Hannah has had her stitches taken out and her wounds have healed up nicely. However she still has quite a lot of pain, which is worst in the early hours when she feels as though a bus has run over the lower half of her rib cage.
So far we reckon the Indonesian leg of our trip can be salvaged here in Bali. The friendly (Hindu) Balinese people are well used to tourists and do not feel the need to stare and shout like other Indonesians. The small island is beautiful and – if you stick to the small roads – is a pleasant place to cycle. We've seen some interesting new things already including gamelan rehearsals and a human corpse being cremated (with a blow-torch) on the village green. As in Thailand the main downside is the dogs: the vile, pointless creatures are everywhere and they do not like tourists on bicycles. We discarded our dog-whacking sticks in Sumatra but we've resurrected the squirty bottles of chilli water.
For anyone with a map we started in the big southern resort of Kuta-Legian (where the bombs were in 2002) and then cycled west to near Tanah Lot. Then we headed north past amazing rice terraces, made our way around the central mountain lakes to coffee-growing Munduk and onwards to Lovina on the north coast. From here we intend to cycle clockwise around the coast to the quiet eastern corner of the island before heading inland to the cultural centre of Ubud (for Christmas – how bizarre that seems) and finally to Candidasa on the southeast coast, our base for some diving. We won't make it to 6000kms but at least we'll add a few more clicks to the tally.
We'll be home on 1st January.
True to their word the Sumatran police did get us safely to Jakarta, but not by taking us all the way themselves: instead they drove us – siren on, purely for show – to a bus depot where they had chartered an entire coach to take us to the capital! The coach driver drove very carefully to the ferry and onwards through West Java to Jakarta while we (and our bikes) reclined amongst cushions and eiderdowns with coffee in plastic bags feeling the most relaxed we had in a while. As our boat was docking at Merak we were amused to see a group of young men jumping from the back of a departing ferry and swimming back to the quay – just for fun – and tried to imagine such larks being permitted on the Dover-Calais.
Jakarta exceeded our expectations. Six nights is a lot longer than most travellers spend in the city, but after our month in the Dark Ages we were quite happy to do the rounds of colonial museums and cafes, upmarket international restaurants and cinemas and tranquil botanical gardens using airconditioned taxis, buses and trains. On our first evening in the city Zoe popped out to buy water and returned wide-eyed having seen several bulehs (white people) and even a 'Mister Negro' (what the Indonesians call black people)!
We also paid two visits to a posh Chinese-run clinic where Hannah's dressings were twice replaced amidst much tutting at the quality of the original work! (Apparently the chest x-rays should have been taken from the side, not from the back.)
We decided after much discussion to fly straight from Jakarta to Bali. 'Gutted' doesn't begin to describe our disappointment at having to cut short our epic tour, but Java on a bike might have been suicide and the idea of public transport (especially with one of us unable to lift a bike) was no less stressful.
So we booked ourselves a cheap flight with Air Asia and got rid of some stuff in anticipation of having to pay for 30-40 kilos of excess baggage (again!).
At Jakarta Airport we had another quintessentially Indonesian experience. Air Asia's website doesn't specify any policy regarding the carriage of bicycles, so we simply deflated our tyres and wheeled the bikes to the check-in desk. Unfortunately the check-in clerk had other ideas and informed us that Indonesia has a 'special rule' that bikes have to be dismantled as they are a risk (to other people's luggage, apparently). We refused to dismantle the bikes and an impasse was reached, at which point Zoe was sorely tempted to jump straight on a plane to London. Then Hannah – rapidly turning into her mother – had a brainwave: 'we have to fly to Bali because we had an accident, you see; look at my dramatic-looking iodine-soaked bandages'. The damsel in distress routine provided the clerk with exactly the excuse he needed to forget all about the 'special rule' and set about preparing our bikes for their flight. We looked on with amusement as he leaped about, taping bits of cardboard awkwardly around random components he felt represented a risk. Then he insisted the bikes be 'wrapped'. After watching the wrapping service people try to balance the first bicycle on their suitcase-sized turntable Zoe suggested they do the job by hand. A large crowd gathered to watch the spectacle of two large bicycles with foot-long cardboard pedals being mummified in heavy-duty clingfilm. Next the clerk personally placed the bikes onto the luggage conveyor-belt, treating Zoe to an hilarious 'Eddy and Pats' moment as a bike got stuck and he had to run on the spot whilst shouting for someone to hit the emergency stop. And the best bit of all? We didn't pay a cent for our excess baggage!
Since arriving in Bali Hannah has had her stitches taken out and her wounds have healed up nicely. However she still has quite a lot of pain, which is worst in the early hours when she feels as though a bus has run over the lower half of her rib cage.
So far we reckon the Indonesian leg of our trip can be salvaged here in Bali. The friendly (Hindu) Balinese people are well used to tourists and do not feel the need to stare and shout like other Indonesians. The small island is beautiful and – if you stick to the small roads – is a pleasant place to cycle. We've seen some interesting new things already including gamelan rehearsals and a human corpse being cremated (with a blow-torch) on the village green. As in Thailand the main downside is the dogs: the vile, pointless creatures are everywhere and they do not like tourists on bicycles. We discarded our dog-whacking sticks in Sumatra but we've resurrected the squirty bottles of chilli water.
For anyone with a map we started in the big southern resort of Kuta-Legian (where the bombs were in 2002) and then cycled west to near Tanah Lot. Then we headed north past amazing rice terraces, made our way around the central mountain lakes to coffee-growing Munduk and onwards to Lovina on the north coast. From here we intend to cycle clockwise around the coast to the quiet eastern corner of the island before heading inland to the cultural centre of Ubud (for Christmas – how bizarre that seems) and finally to Candidasa on the southeast coast, our base for some diving. We won't make it to 6000kms but at least we'll add a few more clicks to the tally.
We'll be home on 1st January.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Have you sent something to our poste restante address in Malang, Java?
Just a quickie. Could you let us know by email if you've sent something to our poste restante address in Malang, Java? We've taken the decision to fly from Jakarta straight to Bali, which means we'll need to try to arrange for any mail to be forwarded. Sorry and thanks.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
You probably just need to fart
Yesterday our bikes were both hit from behind by a motorbike. We were on a busy and fast but straight and relatively wide main road, heading for the Java ferry. By wide we mean there is a lane in each direction wide enough for a car (but not a bus) to pass us without crossing the central line. As usual oncoming buses and cars were overtaking each other without regard for us, causing us to have to dive off the road quite frequently. Zoe felt uneasy about the road, but Hannah felt ok because the road was straight, saying 'you can see it, you can hear it, you can predict it and you can deal with it'. As usual Zoe was cycling four or five metres behind Hannah. With no warning – and for reasons we will never know – a boy on a motorbike slammed into Zoe's back right pannier (we think), knocking her off her bike sideways and a second later slammed into Hannah's back wheel, knocking the wheel out of its dropouts and sending Hannah (we think) up into the air to land on her back.
Zoe: I was feeling that the road was dangerous so I was alert but at the precise point of the accident I don't think anything big was oncoming and I wasn't aware of any specific impending danger. I heard a motorbike coming up behind me so when it hit me I think I knew what it was. I jumped up, kicked my bike off the road and then saw Hannah running back to me. We grabbed each other, and over Hannah's shoulder I could see the motorcyclist lying face down in a ditch. I think I said 'someone's f*cking dead'. I didn't realise that Hannah had also been hit until she said that it was difficult for her to breathe and I saw the state of her back. She went very pale and sweaty. Amazingly I have a few nice bruises but not a single cut.
Hannah: At the point of the accident I was also unaware of any specific impending danger. I heard a crash behind me and then within a second my bike was hit from behind quite silently but with incredible force. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back thinking 'whatever has just hit me had already run over Zoe and I am about to see her injured or dead'. I jumped up and ran back to her and she was on her feet swearing like a trouper so I knew she was ok. It was then that I realised it was hard for me to breathe and speak, so I sat down on the verge to concentrate on breathing and Zoe told me that my back was cut.
Everything that followed we could have predicted absolutely. The motorcyclist turned out to be uninjured, and sat near Hannah with his head in his hands. A fascinated crowd gathered within seconds, their vehicles bringing the busy road to a standstill. Fortunately two people stopped who spoke English. A young man squatted with Hannah and said nice things and suggested she might like to pray (Zoe was sarcastic to him about this but generally he was more helpful than not). A policeman turned up and directed the traffic. Zoe went into teacher mode and, with the help of a local English teacher, eventually managed to get a passing oplet (minibus) to take us and all our stuff to the hospital in Kalianda (about 15kms on). This was not as easy as it might sound, as Indonesians aren't very logical and members of the crowd were keen on a. taking us to the police station first, b. taking our bikes back to the nearest village and c. separating us from each other and from our stuff.
On arrival at the small hospital Zoe handed 20,000 rupiah to the oplet driver (probably a little over the going rate) but he said he wanted 100,000 from us. Staggering.
Hannah was taken into casualty in a wheelchair (unnecessary) while a crowd gathered to watch Zoe lock up our two bikes and carry (unaided) our ten bags inside. The crowd (including some children and several policemen) then proceeded to the trauma room to watch Hannah having her back cleaned up and five stitches put in whilst lying face down on a back copy of the Lampung Post. Other members of the public looked through the windows to enable them to continue smoking. Fortunately the female doctor and male nurse both spoke reasonable English and whilst the facilities were basic we had confidence in them. On hearing the crowd in the room described by Zoe, Hannah said 'this country is amazing' and the doctor said 'oh thank you'.
Next Zoe was interviewed by the first of a series of policemen (were you cycling two-abreast, was the motorcyclist speeding, what is your job, etc) whilst Hannah was wheeled elsewhere for a chest x-ray. (HD: I remember that a child followed me and the nurse and the jolly flip-flop-wearing radiographer into the x-ray room, which also contained an incubator. I had to remove my top, which was painful to do, and then I had to stand for the x-ray at which point I think I almost fainted. Whilst waiting for the x-ray to be processed I had a momentary cry thinking about the instant before I knew Zoe was ok. The radiographer brought me some water in a cup and saucer and the nurse asked me if I'd like to listen to Celine Dion on his mobile phone. Unfortunately the doctor said she couldn't read the x-ray so I had go back to have another one done. A surgeon was consulted about the x-rays, which showed no broken ribs and no burst lung. Apparently the pain all around my torso is probably muscular, which makes sense.)
Then there was some sitting around and more police arrived to ask more pointless questions. (HD: A very young policemen asked me 'where do you want to go now?'. I replied 'to my mum' and we both laughed. Then he said 'no, I mean, if this hadn't happened'. I said we had been heading for Java but that now we just needed to get to a clean hotel at which point he suggested we go to his house. The English teacher turned up again and after considerable discussion the police started acting a bit more appropriately. They asked us to write a statement, in which Hannah expressed our views about Indonesian road safety in general terms but stated that we do not know how the accident happened and do not intend to pursue the motorcyclist. The police tried to insist on fixing our bicycles, which we firmly declined. Then they said they would take us to a hotel for which they would pay, and that they would drive us to Jakarta if we wanted them to. (HD: In the midst of all this I said to Zoe that I hurt, and she made me laugh by replying 'you probably just need to fart' which is exactly what I always say whenever either of us is ill.)
At the hotel the manager was briefed with all the relevant details such as our jobs, and instructed to look after us. (HD: Since then I have been lying uncomfortably on my side letting the air-conditioning dry my back out whilst being waited on hand and foot by Zoe. Last night she went out to get some really nice fried rice and chocolate and phoned Dr Farmer for advice about the painkillers I'd been given. I can breathe and talk properly now and after a decent night's sleep had some bakso (meatball noodle soup) and mangos for breakfast then rice with tofu, marinated aubergines, green beans, cucumber and lemon mint for lunch. No loss of appetite to report. I'm taking antibiotics (to prevent infection) and painkillers and feeling sore in a rather weird way but otherwise ok. By the way the stitches, dressings and drugs cost us about $10 but we didn't have to pay for the x-rays.)
Last night the parents of 'the boy' – as he is referred to – turned up at our hotel looking worried and asked Zoe to write again that we do not intend to pursue their son. She wrote simply that we were hit from behind so we do not know what happened and we do not have any trouble with this man. This morning his uncle turned up wanting more written statements from us to this effect, which Zoe refused to give, pointing out to him that it might have been nice to ask how Hannah was feeling. We think the police will probably hassle this family considerably (which we do not want any part of) along with the oplet driver who took advantage of us (who we reckon deserves to be hassled).
We’ll be heading to Jakarta tomorrow with police assistance. We'll hang out there for a few days, get Hannah's stitches taken out and then probably figure out a reduced itinerary for Java using trains if possible (with a little cycling on quiet roads only*) and then proceed to Bali for our Christmas 'holiday'. Hopefully Hannah's back will have recovered sufficiently to enable her to wear a diving tank.
Our predominant emotions are a. relieved that it wasn't worse and b. gutted that it looks as though we'll probably have to forgo several hundred kilometres of cycling in Java. But (as other cycling bloggers have also observed) it's so dangerous here it's pretty much impossible to enjoy the landscape from the roads anyway.
Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment in our Indonesian adventure and check out Flickr where we've uploaded some new pics.
*It looks as though the force of the impact on Hannah's rear tyre split the inner tube on an inside seam and blew the valve clean off. Our first puncture! The wheel may need a small amount of truing and one rim is slightly scratched, but otherwise the wheel looks alright!
Zoe: I was feeling that the road was dangerous so I was alert but at the precise point of the accident I don't think anything big was oncoming and I wasn't aware of any specific impending danger. I heard a motorbike coming up behind me so when it hit me I think I knew what it was. I jumped up, kicked my bike off the road and then saw Hannah running back to me. We grabbed each other, and over Hannah's shoulder I could see the motorcyclist lying face down in a ditch. I think I said 'someone's f*cking dead'. I didn't realise that Hannah had also been hit until she said that it was difficult for her to breathe and I saw the state of her back. She went very pale and sweaty. Amazingly I have a few nice bruises but not a single cut.
Hannah: At the point of the accident I was also unaware of any specific impending danger. I heard a crash behind me and then within a second my bike was hit from behind quite silently but with incredible force. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back thinking 'whatever has just hit me had already run over Zoe and I am about to see her injured or dead'. I jumped up and ran back to her and she was on her feet swearing like a trouper so I knew she was ok. It was then that I realised it was hard for me to breathe and speak, so I sat down on the verge to concentrate on breathing and Zoe told me that my back was cut.
Everything that followed we could have predicted absolutely. The motorcyclist turned out to be uninjured, and sat near Hannah with his head in his hands. A fascinated crowd gathered within seconds, their vehicles bringing the busy road to a standstill. Fortunately two people stopped who spoke English. A young man squatted with Hannah and said nice things and suggested she might like to pray (Zoe was sarcastic to him about this but generally he was more helpful than not). A policeman turned up and directed the traffic. Zoe went into teacher mode and, with the help of a local English teacher, eventually managed to get a passing oplet (minibus) to take us and all our stuff to the hospital in Kalianda (about 15kms on). This was not as easy as it might sound, as Indonesians aren't very logical and members of the crowd were keen on a. taking us to the police station first, b. taking our bikes back to the nearest village and c. separating us from each other and from our stuff.
On arrival at the small hospital Zoe handed 20,000 rupiah to the oplet driver (probably a little over the going rate) but he said he wanted 100,000 from us. Staggering.
Hannah was taken into casualty in a wheelchair (unnecessary) while a crowd gathered to watch Zoe lock up our two bikes and carry (unaided) our ten bags inside. The crowd (including some children and several policemen) then proceeded to the trauma room to watch Hannah having her back cleaned up and five stitches put in whilst lying face down on a back copy of the Lampung Post. Other members of the public looked through the windows to enable them to continue smoking. Fortunately the female doctor and male nurse both spoke reasonable English and whilst the facilities were basic we had confidence in them. On hearing the crowd in the room described by Zoe, Hannah said 'this country is amazing' and the doctor said 'oh thank you'.
Next Zoe was interviewed by the first of a series of policemen (were you cycling two-abreast, was the motorcyclist speeding, what is your job, etc) whilst Hannah was wheeled elsewhere for a chest x-ray. (HD: I remember that a child followed me and the nurse and the jolly flip-flop-wearing radiographer into the x-ray room, which also contained an incubator. I had to remove my top, which was painful to do, and then I had to stand for the x-ray at which point I think I almost fainted. Whilst waiting for the x-ray to be processed I had a momentary cry thinking about the instant before I knew Zoe was ok. The radiographer brought me some water in a cup and saucer and the nurse asked me if I'd like to listen to Celine Dion on his mobile phone. Unfortunately the doctor said she couldn't read the x-ray so I had go back to have another one done. A surgeon was consulted about the x-rays, which showed no broken ribs and no burst lung. Apparently the pain all around my torso is probably muscular, which makes sense.)
Then there was some sitting around and more police arrived to ask more pointless questions. (HD: A very young policemen asked me 'where do you want to go now?'. I replied 'to my mum' and we both laughed. Then he said 'no, I mean, if this hadn't happened'. I said we had been heading for Java but that now we just needed to get to a clean hotel at which point he suggested we go to his house. The English teacher turned up again and after considerable discussion the police started acting a bit more appropriately. They asked us to write a statement, in which Hannah expressed our views about Indonesian road safety in general terms but stated that we do not know how the accident happened and do not intend to pursue the motorcyclist. The police tried to insist on fixing our bicycles, which we firmly declined. Then they said they would take us to a hotel for which they would pay, and that they would drive us to Jakarta if we wanted them to. (HD: In the midst of all this I said to Zoe that I hurt, and she made me laugh by replying 'you probably just need to fart' which is exactly what I always say whenever either of us is ill.)
At the hotel the manager was briefed with all the relevant details such as our jobs, and instructed to look after us. (HD: Since then I have been lying uncomfortably on my side letting the air-conditioning dry my back out whilst being waited on hand and foot by Zoe. Last night she went out to get some really nice fried rice and chocolate and phoned Dr Farmer for advice about the painkillers I'd been given. I can breathe and talk properly now and after a decent night's sleep had some bakso (meatball noodle soup) and mangos for breakfast then rice with tofu, marinated aubergines, green beans, cucumber and lemon mint for lunch. No loss of appetite to report. I'm taking antibiotics (to prevent infection) and painkillers and feeling sore in a rather weird way but otherwise ok. By the way the stitches, dressings and drugs cost us about $10 but we didn't have to pay for the x-rays.)
Last night the parents of 'the boy' – as he is referred to – turned up at our hotel looking worried and asked Zoe to write again that we do not intend to pursue their son. She wrote simply that we were hit from behind so we do not know what happened and we do not have any trouble with this man. This morning his uncle turned up wanting more written statements from us to this effect, which Zoe refused to give, pointing out to him that it might have been nice to ask how Hannah was feeling. We think the police will probably hassle this family considerably (which we do not want any part of) along with the oplet driver who took advantage of us (who we reckon deserves to be hassled).
We’ll be heading to Jakarta tomorrow with police assistance. We'll hang out there for a few days, get Hannah's stitches taken out and then probably figure out a reduced itinerary for Java using trains if possible (with a little cycling on quiet roads only*) and then proceed to Bali for our Christmas 'holiday'. Hopefully Hannah's back will have recovered sufficiently to enable her to wear a diving tank.
Our predominant emotions are a. relieved that it wasn't worse and b. gutted that it looks as though we'll probably have to forgo several hundred kilometres of cycling in Java. But (as other cycling bloggers have also observed) it's so dangerous here it's pretty much impossible to enjoy the landscape from the roads anyway.
Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment in our Indonesian adventure and check out Flickr where we've uploaded some new pics.
*It looks as though the force of the impact on Hannah's rear tyre split the inner tube on an inside seam and blew the valve clean off. Our first puncture! The wheel may need a small amount of truing and one rim is slightly scratched, but otherwise the wheel looks alright!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Tis the season to be jolly, tra la la la la...
Thanks for the many kind comments and emails. During the final month of our trip we're thinking of publishing a Q&A on our blog. We've thought of a few questions for each other and we'd like to invite you to send us some. Please specify whether your question is for Zoe or Hannah or both. Also, we fancy singing Christmas carols as we cycle, to entertain ourselves and the locals. If you'd like to nominate your favourite carol (and- better still - email us the words) we'll be happy to dedicate our rendition to you!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
HELLO MISTERRR!! Worlds collide in Sumatra
We'd love to be able to say that things have looked up since we last posted, but we continue to be at a low ebb here in Sumatra. The blatant sexual harassment and stone-throwing have not resumed since we left the province of North Sumatra, but the sense of being absolutely alien and alone persists.
Partly it's that whilst the scenery is exceptional we're bored with villages. Indonesian ones aren’t photogenic like Cambodian ones; most of them are just a bit grimey, dull and depressing and populated by little children who scream at us, bored bigger children who follow us on motorbikes photographing us on their mobile phones and bored men who grunt and shout pointless questions at us.
Yes, mainly it's that we've absolutely had enough of being stared at and shouted at all day every day. You'll recall that Hannah in particular has struggled with this since Day 1, but by now we both feel completely oppressed by the incomprehensible, inescapable attention. We do try to understand it. We talked this morning about the time we spotted a dugong in the Red Sea; we followed it and wanted to keep staring at it until our air ran out. Maybe that's what it's like for the people here, some of whom may never have seen a bule (white person) in the flesh. Except we aren't dugongs. We aren't even famous. We're just a couple of cyclists.
And partly it's also that there's a certain low-level unpleasantness to much of the attention we receive and to many of our direct interactions. This is hard to describe and it varies. People demonstrate zero empathy; they just stare and/or shout, often without smiling. Often there's a sexist undertone to our interactions and there's xenophobia too, or at least a sense of 'them and us'. Zoe says she recognises (from her work) the feeling of having to find the maturity within herself to face up to a pack of immature human beings some of whom need to score points at her expense. Hannah accepts she doesn't yet have this maturity and isn't motivated to develop it just now.
On top of this we feel homesick, for the lovely people in our lives back home, and also for our own identities. Here (unlike the other countries we've been through) we're acutely aware of the bullshit people think they know about us. We can sometimes gain an ounce of respect by saying we're in our thirties and we're married (it's clear people assume otherwise). To express anything of our true identities (independent, feminist, the list goes on..) is unthinkable.
We're still clinging to the advice some of you sent us in response to our 'cry for help' from Vietnam: we try to draw strength from the smiles of genuinely welcoming people; we try not to beat ourselves up; we seek respite when we can (though the laughable quality of accommodation doesn't help with this!).
Being the control freaks we both are (different kinds of control freak, mind!) all of this is putting us both right on the edge. We’re up and down like mad and occasionally wonder what the hell we're doing!
And there's one more thing. We selected our current route down the west coast of Sumatra because the road is quiet and therefore relatively safe to cycle on. But Indonesian driving is APPALLING, so the exciting prospect of arriving in Java – the world's most densely populated island and the cultural heart of Indonesia - in a few days' time is tinged with foreboding. Whenever we are in real danger (and we will be) we'll put our bikes onto a train or a bus, though the latter mode rarely feels any safer than staying on the bikes!
To end on a positive note we're thankful for each other, we're thankful for the fantastic trip we've had so far, and we continue to appreciate how lucky we are to have such a good life to go back to in January.
P.S. Sorry for the lack of photos from Indo. Internet connections aren't fast enough to handle the size of Zoe's files.
Partly it's that whilst the scenery is exceptional we're bored with villages. Indonesian ones aren’t photogenic like Cambodian ones; most of them are just a bit grimey, dull and depressing and populated by little children who scream at us, bored bigger children who follow us on motorbikes photographing us on their mobile phones and bored men who grunt and shout pointless questions at us.
Yes, mainly it's that we've absolutely had enough of being stared at and shouted at all day every day. You'll recall that Hannah in particular has struggled with this since Day 1, but by now we both feel completely oppressed by the incomprehensible, inescapable attention. We do try to understand it. We talked this morning about the time we spotted a dugong in the Red Sea; we followed it and wanted to keep staring at it until our air ran out. Maybe that's what it's like for the people here, some of whom may never have seen a bule (white person) in the flesh. Except we aren't dugongs. We aren't even famous. We're just a couple of cyclists.
And partly it's also that there's a certain low-level unpleasantness to much of the attention we receive and to many of our direct interactions. This is hard to describe and it varies. People demonstrate zero empathy; they just stare and/or shout, often without smiling. Often there's a sexist undertone to our interactions and there's xenophobia too, or at least a sense of 'them and us'. Zoe says she recognises (from her work) the feeling of having to find the maturity within herself to face up to a pack of immature human beings some of whom need to score points at her expense. Hannah accepts she doesn't yet have this maturity and isn't motivated to develop it just now.
On top of this we feel homesick, for the lovely people in our lives back home, and also for our own identities. Here (unlike the other countries we've been through) we're acutely aware of the bullshit people think they know about us. We can sometimes gain an ounce of respect by saying we're in our thirties and we're married (it's clear people assume otherwise). To express anything of our true identities (independent, feminist, the list goes on..) is unthinkable.
We're still clinging to the advice some of you sent us in response to our 'cry for help' from Vietnam: we try to draw strength from the smiles of genuinely welcoming people; we try not to beat ourselves up; we seek respite when we can (though the laughable quality of accommodation doesn't help with this!).
Being the control freaks we both are (different kinds of control freak, mind!) all of this is putting us both right on the edge. We’re up and down like mad and occasionally wonder what the hell we're doing!
And there's one more thing. We selected our current route down the west coast of Sumatra because the road is quiet and therefore relatively safe to cycle on. But Indonesian driving is APPALLING, so the exciting prospect of arriving in Java – the world's most densely populated island and the cultural heart of Indonesia - in a few days' time is tinged with foreboding. Whenever we are in real danger (and we will be) we'll put our bikes onto a train or a bus, though the latter mode rarely feels any safer than staying on the bikes!
To end on a positive note we're thankful for each other, we're thankful for the fantastic trip we've had so far, and we continue to appreciate how lucky we are to have such a good life to go back to in January.
P.S. Sorry for the lack of photos from Indo. Internet connections aren't fast enough to handle the size of Zoe's files.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I'm a feminist, get me out of here!
Since arriving in Indonesia a fortnight ago we've experienced some real highlights. Sumatra is beautiful, and it's been really sad to observe that tourism has reduced to a trickle since the Bali bomb and the various tsunamis, flash floods and earthquakes of recent years. We've been cycling through the biggest and most exhilarating (and exerting) landscapes of the trip so far, around the cool shores of Lake Toba (the largest crater lake in the world), past volcanoes and waterfalls and through immense jungle- and mist-filled valleys.
At Mount Leuser National Park we hired a guide (and his sidekick) to take us on an overnight trek into the jungle, where we saw wild orangutans at very close range as well as macaques, Thomas leaf monkeys and black gibbons. We returned to our starting point by way of three truck inner-tubes lashed together to form a hair-raising but hilarious white-water raft!
Yet paradoxically we've had the hardest two weeks of the trip to date: to our complete surprise and horror North Sumatrans display both an oppressively male-dominated culture and an unexplained hostility to tourists. Plenty of individuals have been nice, of course, but the prevailing atmosphere in the province is intimidating. The first thing we noticed was that many people (both men and women) stared right through or seemed to glower at us. Then as we cycled through villages we noticed that amongst the expected barrage of friendly and curious calls of 'hello mister', 'where you go?' etc there was a lot of deliberate taunting: jeers, grunts, roars of 'buleh' (lit. 'albino', though nice Indonesians will tell you it translates as 'tourist') right in our faces as we passed, aggressive laughter, hisses (tsss-tsss), kissing noises, wolf whistles, sexual gestures (licking their lips, holding their crotches) and so on. Boys tried to grab onto the bikes as we rode past and, worst of all, each day we had at least one instance of boys throwing stones at us from behind.
Most North Sumatran men appear to be lazy, chain-smoking, disgusting, misogynistic, neanderthal brutes who sit around all day while the women do the work. A handful did things like walk up and stroke our arms without the slightest invitation. Others invited themselves to sit with us as we tried to eat meals (their minds clearly full of movie-inspired notions about what we represent!). And every single one of them, it seemed, felt he had the right to sit and stare at us and/or interrupt our privacy and interrogate us menacingly with the predictable 'where you go?', 'where you from?', 'you not have husband/ children?' etc. In short they were absolute ****s [insert the rudest four letter word you find acceptable], from the age of about ten onwards.
Lest it has not been clear from previous blog posts let us stress again that not once were we made to feel intimidated by men or boys as we cycled through Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand.
For the first time in the trip we have frequently invoked the power of our fictitious 'husbands', Matt and Adrian, who we say have gone ahead to the next town. When one slimy bloke (who thought he was it because he was a 'kepala desa' or village head) suggested a night-time trip 'to the hill to take photographs of the town' Zoe responded without hesitation: 'oh no, I don't think my husband would like that'.
We're using the past tense because just when we were starting to think we might have to change our plans (we could not bear the idea of six more weeks of constant intimidation: 'if I never see another village in my life it'll be too soon' said Zoe) suddenly everything changed. What happened? On Sunday night we crossed the provincial border* into West Sumatra. Literally overnight normal, gentle, smiling South-East Asian service resumed. How bizarre! We can only assume tribal cultural differences are at play: the northern Bataks are deeply patriarchal, whereas the western Minangkabau are a matrilineal tribe. If we uncover any further explanations for why it was so grim oop north we'll let you know.
*The story about how we crossed the provincial border is worth telling. Throughout Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and Indonesia it has consistently been the case that towns with a hotel have been situated at 90-100km intervals. In Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand that meant we often cycled 100kms per day. Here in Indonesia the mountainous landscape means this won't usually be feasible. As cycling in the dark and staying with villagers are no-nos for us (and camping doesn't really seem like an option) we have started making use of the excellent public transport and throwing our bikes on the top of buses for the last 20-30 kilometres some days. Sunday was one such day. We were aiming from a town called Lubuksikaping over the provincial border. Hannah had found the website of an interesting new, Australian-run hotel on the edge of that town. The first bus we hopped could only take us to a filthy intermediate town (called Panti of all things). We stood in the rain and dark in Panti for over an hour as realisation dawned that the service to Lubuksikaping had finished for the day. Flagging down yet another bus and seeing yet another driver shake his head Hannah tried some proper hands-clasped pleading and it worked: the young driver/conductor team spotted an opportunity and what those bloody awful management consultants call a win-win situation took shape. The bikes and their cargo travelled in comfort inside the bus. We had agreed a price of 100,000 rupiahs for the 1hr+ journey (less than $10). The two guys seemed absolutely thrilled with the deal, which they supplemented by taking on four other customers and picking up two of their mates for the ride. So there we were charging along in the pitch dark in our chartered bus with eight men. Given everything we've described above, what was most striking was that all of them were completely delightful (apart from one who sat very quietly and then threw up on the floor, much to the disgust of the driver). We got chatting to a religious studies student who helped to convey to the bus team that we were aiming for a particular hotel in Lubuksikaping. Faint alarm bells started to ring when not one of them had heard of the hotel nor even the road it was on, but on arrival in Lubuksikaping (where we were expecting to be dropped at the bus terminal) it was clear they had collectively resolved that we should be taken right to our destination.
A young woman on a moped thought she knew the place and was able to direct the bus driver. He drove some distance to the very edge of town and turned up a pitch dark lane. A resident confirmed this was the road. As the bus bumped its way up the tiny gravel track Hannah had confidence in her research, but Zoe (and the rest of the bus) were clearly skeptical. The conductor hopped out to ask directions at a house. A woman came out of the house and got into the bus. What was going on? Soon afterwards the bus headlights illuminated a half-built hotel behind a locked gate. The woman seemed to be associated with the 'hotel' and said there were rooms available, but the bus driver looked askance and said to us 'there are no lights'. After some discussion it was decided that we should be taken back to a hotel in the town, which we had passed a good half hour earlier. At that place the conductor hopped out again to enquire about a room for us; a veiled woman came out to have a look at us and to explain the hotel was full due to a local government convention. After driving around the town a bit more a room was finally found for us on the fourth attempt. We gave our chaps a 50% tip, they shook our hands warmly and back they went to Panti. We went out for a late supper at a street stall where all the staff and customers were men; not one of them bothered us.
Though we're relieved to have escaped the north and optimistic that the rest of Indonesia will be as great as anticipated we're both feeling a bit flat. Our next destination is a beautiful place that Hannah has been to before – a crater lake called Maninjau – where we hope to pick ourselves back up and get ourselves in gear for the final six weeks of our Asian epic.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Obama!
Returning from a jungle trek in north Sumatra we had barely finished saying goodbye to one set of apes and monkeys when we discovered it was also time to say goodbye to the world's most powerful ape and say hello to America's new president. Congratulations Obama.
By the way, is anyone (apart from our parents) still reading our blog and looking at Zoe's lovely pictures? We're feeling a bit unloved...
By the way, is anyone (apart from our parents) still reading our blog and looking at Zoe's lovely pictures? We're feeling a bit unloved...
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Reflecting on our first three months/ five countries
We're spending a whole week here in Georgetown (Malaysia) enjoying the multiculturalism of the place and psyching ourselves up for the next and final leg of our journey (two whole months in Indonesia and a very long bike ride from Medan to Bali). We've also been reflecting on our first three months/ five countries and the highlights so far.
In Beijing we were bowled over by the effort that had gone into making the city 'perfect' for the Olympics. Detractors may say it was a bit of a white-wash (and indeed ugly or half-built buildings had been hidden behind giant billboards), but we found Beijing an impressively confident, thoroughly modern and of course bike-friendly city with sights that took our breath away: the warriors at Xi'an, the Great Wall, sixteen acrobats balancing on a bicycle, oh and that Opening Ceremony (which we watched on tv like you did!).
The food in Beijing was completely stunning and we didn't have to try hard to find the very different cuisines of at least ten Chinese regions.
In both Vietnam and Cambodia over 70% of the population are rural and poor. This makes for a visually stimulating but intense cycling experience; we found ourselves the star attraction in an endless parade of village life for six or more hours a day!
Our overriding impression of Vietnam was of the (sometimes overwhelming) friendly, generous and family-oriented people. Most accounts talk of scams and rip-offs, but this was categorically not our experience when away from the main tourist sites. Highlights included a week cycling along the inland Ho Chi Minh highway in the north of the country (an exceedingly poor rural area) during which time we did not see another foreigner, Saigon (a place well on its way up), and a week spent crossing the lush and prosperous Mekong delta area in the far south west of the country.
Generally speaking the food in Vietnam did not live up to our high expectations (set in Hackney of course!), though we did develop an addiction to their delicious coffee, which is served in an individual filter perched on top of a glass of sweetened condensed milk!
In Cambodia rural people do not have electricity or running water, yet their attractive stilt houses are sturdy and they appeared to us to have a better quality of life than the urban poor, who's rather grim lives must be hard to bear when surrounded by the new urban rich and the many western expats and tourists.
Angkor Wat defies all superlatives, though it was hard to square this 12th - 14th century Cambodian achievement with the state of the country now; the legacy of the Khmer Rouge is palpable everywhere. Overall we were left slightly disturbed by Cambodia and were relieved to escape its astonishingly bad roads for Thailand.
Crossing national borders overland is a fascinating experience because differences are noticeable instantly. Bangkok felt like another world after Cambodia, and overall Thailand felt rather like a holiday within a holiday. The highlight was a four-day 'live-aboard' diving trip to the uninhabited Similan Islands.
Cycling in Thailand was very different: whilst the roads and drivers were excellent the lack of cyclists meant we were often chased by dogs. The cooler last hour or so of daylight (which had been our favourite time in Vietnam and Cambodia) became our most feared time of day!
Here in Georgetown (Malaysia) we've been like proper tourists and visited Chinese temples, beautifully preserved clan houses and mansions and ramshackle shophouses, mosques, Hindu temples and many remnants of the British colonial era. We've sampled Indian, Chinese, Malay and 'Nyonya' food and visited botanical gardens and a tropical fruit farm.
In both Thailand and Malaysia we've enjoyed a break from constant attention from locals. Being less developed we expect Indonesia to be more like Vietnam and Cambodia in this regard.
We're looking forward to getting back into a daily cycling routine through Sumatra and Java (which are mountainous, in contrast to our flattish routes through Vietnam and Cambodia), before finishing up with another little 'holiday' (and some more diving) in Bali at Christmas. Indonesia is predominantly a Muslim country and Hannah can speak some of the language, factors we think may make a difference to our day to day experience.
Overall we're struck that the countries we've visited have been more different than similar. We've also enjoyed the contrast between our cycling days (which we love but which do feel rather like 'workdays') and our rest days (which feel like 'weekends'). We're loving the feeling of extreme physical fitness, and though we haven't lost much weight we reckon we're a bit firmer all round! And finally, though we miss our friends a lot it has been lovely to have such a chunk of time together by ourselves.
As well as our friends and families we also miss:
- Red wine
- Zoe's cooking
- Clothes in general but specifically jeans and other cotton things
- Mountain biking/ my other bike (HD)
Whilst we can't claim to have reached any profound spiritual conclusions we have enjoyed having the mental space to develop some ideas. I'm pleased to report we've finally accepted the received wisdom that it's important to:
- Drink plenty of water
- Let your body rest
- Stretch
- Cover your head in the sun
- Carry a hankie
One conclusion we have reached is that most our trips will probably be by bicycle from now on; neither of us can bear to be at the mercy of public transport (see image above of the inside of a Thai bus) and other people's schedules!
We've cycled 3600kms so far, and (touch wood) no punctures yet.
Looking back at Cambodia again
We keep a daily journal for our own records. Looking back over our journal for Cambodia we realised we ought to recount a couple more of our memorable cycling days there.
If you've read the blog entry called 'First fortnight in Cambodia' you'll recall that from Phnom Penh we cycled north up the Mekong River for three days to a place called Kratie where we wanted to see the endangered freshwater dolphins. You'll also recall that we described in mostly positive terms the bike ride north through an endless parade of rural life, including the incident with the farting granny and the wanking boy. From Kratie we had hoped to catch a boat back to Phnom Penh, but inexplicably (and absurdly, given the state of the roads!) long-distance boat services no longer run up and down the Mekong in Cambodia. We didn't fancy taking a bus so we had little choice but to retrace our steps, and since the route would be familiar we decided to attempt the 220kms in two days instead of three. Unfortunately we misjudged the effect of heavy rain on the unpaved roads; these turned out to be two of the most gruelling days of the trip so far:
Day 1 (120kms) was a Buddhist festival so Hannah resolved to try to be calm and 'Buddhist' and not to get wound up by everybody. She did quite well until about mid afternoon. During the morning we came to a section of road that was still completely submerged by floodwater, taking instead a diversion through a Muslim village that can only be described as medieval-looking! Hannah made an MP3 recording of some of the sounds of the village, which we'll upload to this blog if we can figure out how to. We didn't find anywhere to eat during the morning so come lunchtime we were starving. In Chlong (farting granny's town) we rolled into a place describing itself as a 'Guesthouse and Restaurant' and asked to eat. Three people looked blankly at us until one finally led Zoe into the kitchen to show her a bone and half a cucumber. We got back on the bikes. A little further along the road it started to rain heavily so we pulled up at a roadside stall and were relieved to see some toasted baguettes and hard boiled eggs. We felt we made it clear that we needed to eat something and couldn't understand why the two teenagers running the stall didn't slice up the eggs and put them into baguettes for us. Frustrated, Zoe took over, saying 'here, peel the eggs like this and...' ...and discovered the reason for the teenagers' hesitation in giving us the eggs. Each one contained a fully developed (and hard boiled) duckling. We settled for plain baguettes dunked in some condensed milk.
Later that afternoon it rained so heavily we couldn't see where we were going. People continued to stare and shout 'hello' at us from under the awnings of their houses, and Hannah expressed frustration that nobody invited us to shelter. Eventually we found an unoccupied awning and after a while a woman came out of a house to give us some delicious banana-leaf parcels containing steamed sticky rice and fruit. Hannah had to eat her words about people not taking the initiative. We realised that people would probably love to show hospitality towards us if only we would let our guard down and also stay still long enough to let them build up their confidence.
Remember that Cambodian rural homes have neither electricity nor running water. During the afternoon we stopped for a sugar cane juice outside a house and – using the picture of a squat toilet in our 'point-it' book - asked the vendor if we could use her facilities. She indicated that she had no loo. We speculated that either a. she thought we specifically wanted to use a ceramic squat toilet and would not wish to use the drop-style loo that they probably have, b. she was ashamed of their basic facilities, or c. they really have no loo of any kind in the house.
By late afternoon we reached a stretch of road that on our way north had been very bumpy but quite solid. To our horror the rain had transformed this stretch to deep mud. People attempting to travel between villages to join their families for the festival had doubtless made matters worse. It took us an hour and a half to travel about 10kms along this stretch, often having to push the bikes due to their weight and our touring tyres' inability to gain any traction. This was stressful, not least because our painfully slow progress meant we felt trapped amidst the gawping, shouting people, some of whom (only men) had clearly been drinking.
It was at this point we were approached by a young woman teacher who wasted no time in inviting us (in good English) to stay the night with her family and to participate in the festival. She doubted we would make it in time for the last cross-river ferry of the day at 5pm (sunset is at 6), which would render us stranded on the wrong side of the river in Mudville. Remembering the rice parcel lady Hannah was starting to think maybe we should accept this invitation but, turning to Zoe, was startled by some rare decisiveness: 'No, I don't want to stay here. I've just had my arse slapped twice by this old woman'. Presumably she wanted to see what it would feel like. We know this is a cultural thing, but we just hate having our personal space invaded like this! So we pushed on as fast as our mud-caked bicycles would carry us and made it to the last ferry. The sun soon set and we had to cycle the last hour or so in the dark. Some stretches of road were thronged with (unseen) festival-goers and barking dogs, while other stretches were just total blackness. We came across a mangled motorbike surrounded by an ominously quiet crowd. It was all quite scary. On finally arriving in the town we drank cans of beer through straws to celebrate being alive whilst washing down our bikes, panniers, shoes and legs with a hose.
On Day 2 (100kms) we felt physically and psychologically drained from the previous day's exertions. Although the weather and therefore the (again unpaved) road were initially drier this was to be another exhausting and filthy day. In the morning heavy vehicles loaded with festival-goers covered us with dust. We couldn't face all the hellos, so we put our headphones in and our heads down for 60 bumpy kilometres until we reached the main road in the afternoon. It was at this point that it started to rain heavily again, and to their credit the usually maniacal Cambodian drivers slowed down quite a bit. Nevertheless, trying to balance 100 kilograms of self and bike along the very edge of a too-narrow busy main road required every ounce of concentration and upper body strength, so it was a nice bit of comic relief to come across a badly flooded paddy field where some enterprising person had rented out home-made pedalos (!) and people were doing their best to enjoy the public holiday despite the weather.
As we neared Phnom Penh we were gobsmacked to find that the perfectly good paved road we had left the city on (the main road between the country's two largest cities) had disintegrated! Cars, buses and lorries queued to bump and splash their way through enormous potholes, while hundreds of motorcyclists (and two bedraggled bicyclists) jossled their way up the sodden, sandy hard shoulder. Some of the potholes were so deep we would have fallen off our bikes had people not already marked the spot by placing plastic chairs or tree branches into them as a warning! Through all this people continued to call 'hello' to us.
We'd also like to tell you about our journey from Battambang towards the Thai border town of Pailin. In Battambang we'd been warned we would be 'orange' by the end of the day, and our informant was not wrong! What is incredible is that the 100km road from Battambang to the Thai border is not simply in a bad state of disrepair: it has never been paved. There is a photo on our Flickr page that gives some sense of this road. Although it was exceedingly bumpy (which is hard-going on the wrists in particular) traffic was light and (of course) slow, so we were in pretty good spirits all day until it started to get dark. It was at this point that a curious thing happened. Suddenly, and for the first time in the trip, dogs started to chase us. [This is a major hazard in Thailand too, where the lack of cyclists is presumably the reason.]
We made it to Pailin with frayed nerves and, having checked into a guesthouse, went out in search of a late supper and a drink. In a relatively (for Cambodia) up-market restaurant we were seated at a large table in a sort of private booth. A couple of uniformed waitresses hovered around, putting more ice in our beer every few minutes. [If you've never had ice in your beer you should really try it.] After a while they settled themselves down at our table without being invited and proceeded to chat and play with the ringtones on their mobile phones. Then a couple more waitresses joined them, followed by the manageress. As we ate one of the girls started to relate a story to the manageress about some kind of sexual assault. Although we couldn't understand a word we could follow the dramatic story because she demonstrated what had happened, using the manageress as 'victim', grabbing her boobs, embracing her, pretending to throttle her and so forth. We were gripped by what we can only hope was the plot of a popular soap opera.
If you've read the blog entry called 'First fortnight in Cambodia' you'll recall that from Phnom Penh we cycled north up the Mekong River for three days to a place called Kratie where we wanted to see the endangered freshwater dolphins. You'll also recall that we described in mostly positive terms the bike ride north through an endless parade of rural life, including the incident with the farting granny and the wanking boy. From Kratie we had hoped to catch a boat back to Phnom Penh, but inexplicably (and absurdly, given the state of the roads!) long-distance boat services no longer run up and down the Mekong in Cambodia. We didn't fancy taking a bus so we had little choice but to retrace our steps, and since the route would be familiar we decided to attempt the 220kms in two days instead of three. Unfortunately we misjudged the effect of heavy rain on the unpaved roads; these turned out to be two of the most gruelling days of the trip so far:
Day 1 (120kms) was a Buddhist festival so Hannah resolved to try to be calm and 'Buddhist' and not to get wound up by everybody. She did quite well until about mid afternoon. During the morning we came to a section of road that was still completely submerged by floodwater, taking instead a diversion through a Muslim village that can only be described as medieval-looking! Hannah made an MP3 recording of some of the sounds of the village, which we'll upload to this blog if we can figure out how to. We didn't find anywhere to eat during the morning so come lunchtime we were starving. In Chlong (farting granny's town) we rolled into a place describing itself as a 'Guesthouse and Restaurant' and asked to eat. Three people looked blankly at us until one finally led Zoe into the kitchen to show her a bone and half a cucumber. We got back on the bikes. A little further along the road it started to rain heavily so we pulled up at a roadside stall and were relieved to see some toasted baguettes and hard boiled eggs. We felt we made it clear that we needed to eat something and couldn't understand why the two teenagers running the stall didn't slice up the eggs and put them into baguettes for us. Frustrated, Zoe took over, saying 'here, peel the eggs like this and...' ...and discovered the reason for the teenagers' hesitation in giving us the eggs. Each one contained a fully developed (and hard boiled) duckling. We settled for plain baguettes dunked in some condensed milk.
Later that afternoon it rained so heavily we couldn't see where we were going. People continued to stare and shout 'hello' at us from under the awnings of their houses, and Hannah expressed frustration that nobody invited us to shelter. Eventually we found an unoccupied awning and after a while a woman came out of a house to give us some delicious banana-leaf parcels containing steamed sticky rice and fruit. Hannah had to eat her words about people not taking the initiative. We realised that people would probably love to show hospitality towards us if only we would let our guard down and also stay still long enough to let them build up their confidence.
Remember that Cambodian rural homes have neither electricity nor running water. During the afternoon we stopped for a sugar cane juice outside a house and – using the picture of a squat toilet in our 'point-it' book - asked the vendor if we could use her facilities. She indicated that she had no loo. We speculated that either a. she thought we specifically wanted to use a ceramic squat toilet and would not wish to use the drop-style loo that they probably have, b. she was ashamed of their basic facilities, or c. they really have no loo of any kind in the house.
By late afternoon we reached a stretch of road that on our way north had been very bumpy but quite solid. To our horror the rain had transformed this stretch to deep mud. People attempting to travel between villages to join their families for the festival had doubtless made matters worse. It took us an hour and a half to travel about 10kms along this stretch, often having to push the bikes due to their weight and our touring tyres' inability to gain any traction. This was stressful, not least because our painfully slow progress meant we felt trapped amidst the gawping, shouting people, some of whom (only men) had clearly been drinking.
It was at this point we were approached by a young woman teacher who wasted no time in inviting us (in good English) to stay the night with her family and to participate in the festival. She doubted we would make it in time for the last cross-river ferry of the day at 5pm (sunset is at 6), which would render us stranded on the wrong side of the river in Mudville. Remembering the rice parcel lady Hannah was starting to think maybe we should accept this invitation but, turning to Zoe, was startled by some rare decisiveness: 'No, I don't want to stay here. I've just had my arse slapped twice by this old woman'. Presumably she wanted to see what it would feel like. We know this is a cultural thing, but we just hate having our personal space invaded like this! So we pushed on as fast as our mud-caked bicycles would carry us and made it to the last ferry. The sun soon set and we had to cycle the last hour or so in the dark. Some stretches of road were thronged with (unseen) festival-goers and barking dogs, while other stretches were just total blackness. We came across a mangled motorbike surrounded by an ominously quiet crowd. It was all quite scary. On finally arriving in the town we drank cans of beer through straws to celebrate being alive whilst washing down our bikes, panniers, shoes and legs with a hose.
On Day 2 (100kms) we felt physically and psychologically drained from the previous day's exertions. Although the weather and therefore the (again unpaved) road were initially drier this was to be another exhausting and filthy day. In the morning heavy vehicles loaded with festival-goers covered us with dust. We couldn't face all the hellos, so we put our headphones in and our heads down for 60 bumpy kilometres until we reached the main road in the afternoon. It was at this point that it started to rain heavily again, and to their credit the usually maniacal Cambodian drivers slowed down quite a bit. Nevertheless, trying to balance 100 kilograms of self and bike along the very edge of a too-narrow busy main road required every ounce of concentration and upper body strength, so it was a nice bit of comic relief to come across a badly flooded paddy field where some enterprising person had rented out home-made pedalos (!) and people were doing their best to enjoy the public holiday despite the weather.
As we neared Phnom Penh we were gobsmacked to find that the perfectly good paved road we had left the city on (the main road between the country's two largest cities) had disintegrated! Cars, buses and lorries queued to bump and splash their way through enormous potholes, while hundreds of motorcyclists (and two bedraggled bicyclists) jossled their way up the sodden, sandy hard shoulder. Some of the potholes were so deep we would have fallen off our bikes had people not already marked the spot by placing plastic chairs or tree branches into them as a warning! Through all this people continued to call 'hello' to us.
We'd also like to tell you about our journey from Battambang towards the Thai border town of Pailin. In Battambang we'd been warned we would be 'orange' by the end of the day, and our informant was not wrong! What is incredible is that the 100km road from Battambang to the Thai border is not simply in a bad state of disrepair: it has never been paved. There is a photo on our Flickr page that gives some sense of this road. Although it was exceedingly bumpy (which is hard-going on the wrists in particular) traffic was light and (of course) slow, so we were in pretty good spirits all day until it started to get dark. It was at this point that a curious thing happened. Suddenly, and for the first time in the trip, dogs started to chase us. [This is a major hazard in Thailand too, where the lack of cyclists is presumably the reason.]
We made it to Pailin with frayed nerves and, having checked into a guesthouse, went out in search of a late supper and a drink. In a relatively (for Cambodia) up-market restaurant we were seated at a large table in a sort of private booth. A couple of uniformed waitresses hovered around, putting more ice in our beer every few minutes. [If you've never had ice in your beer you should really try it.] After a while they settled themselves down at our table without being invited and proceeded to chat and play with the ringtones on their mobile phones. Then a couple more waitresses joined them, followed by the manageress. As we ate one of the girls started to relate a story to the manageress about some kind of sexual assault. Although we couldn't understand a word we could follow the dramatic story because she demonstrated what had happened, using the manageress as 'victim', grabbing her boobs, embracing her, pretending to throttle her and so forth. We were gripped by what we can only hope was the plot of a popular soap opera.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
And now for something completely different
Arriving in Thailand the contrast with Cambodia was instantaneous. After crossing the border we pedalled off (on the left hand side of!) a beautiful modern road and hot-footed it to Bangkok in time for Zoe's birthday. In Bangkok we stayed once again at the Atlanta Hotel, a film-set of a place more or less frozen in time since it became the first western-run hotel in Bangkok in the 1950s. We cycled a bit in the city (which actually wasn't too bad) but mostly we got around on the Skytrain and the new underground. We applied for and obtained 60-day visas at the Indonesian embassy (phew). For Zoe's birthday we dined at The Oriental (see Flickr page for the photo story). We were amazed and impressed by the number of lesbians and gay men visible in Bangkok. Then after four nights we said 'until next time' to that fantastic city, hopped on a night train with our bikes and journeyed south.
For the last four nights we've been on a liveaboard diving boat cruising around the uninhabited Similan Islands 65kms off the tsunami-hit west coast of southern Thailand. We've been lucky enough to do several liveaboards in the past so the routine's familiar: get up shortly after dawn, have a light breakfast, dive briefing, dive, eat a cooked breakfast, loll about or snorkel to white sand beach, dive briefing, dive, eat a big lunch, loll about/sunbathe/sleep, dive briefing, dive, eat a snack, dive briefing, night dive, eat supper, have a couple of beers, early night. It's pretty miserable! Underwater we saw loads of gorgeous coral and millions of kinds of fish, plus some 'big stuff': octopus, cuttlefish, lobsters, turtles, stingrays and some curious leopard sharks!
Enough authenticity: Looking back at Cambodia
We only blogged once about Cambodia during the three weeks we were there: although we discussed it endlessly we couldn't decide what we wanted to say about the place.
Starting with the highlight, Cambodia has Angkor Wat. Un-bloody-believable.
Secondly, Cambodia is visually very interesting as our Flickr site hopefully conveys. As in Vietnam so much life happens at the roadside (in fact 'a dull moment' is something we often craved during our 6-8 hour days in the midst of it all, prompting Zoe to coin the brilliant phrase 'enough authenticity now!'). There were occasions we wondered if we'd travelled back in time to the Middle Ages, and obviously on one level that was interesting.
In Siem Reap we met some great cyclists from Lancashire who've been travelling the world for over a year and who inspired us to try and keep saying hello nicely (or rather 'iya) to everybody as they do.
But, overall Cambodia disturbed us quite a lot. Imagine seeing (as we did several times) a woman on the back of a motorbike holding what seems to be an upright plank of wood and turns out to be a make-shift drip with a baby attached to it. Imagine seeing kids splashing about in floodwater underneath their houses, right where the family presumably shit and do the washing up. Imagine restaurants with their floors littered with bones and used tissues and flies everywhere. Imagine seeing motorbike accidents in the middle of nowhere, hours by bad road from the nearest (poorly equipped, not-free) hospital. Imagine roads (connecting sizeable towns) that have never been paved that take people hours and hours to travel along and which have potholes so big that cars get stuck in them after rain. Then imagine going to the capital city and enjoying cocktails at the colonial 'Foreign Correspondents' Club' while outside children are selling stuff on the streets and the 'Haves' are driving around with their bodyguards in blacked-out SUVs. Try to imagine the psychological legacy of a genocide 30 years ago which wiped out a fifth of the population including the majority of educated and skilled people.
In Vietnam we preferred the cities (and the south in general) to the northern countryside because we enjoyed seeing the country's rapid economic progress manifested in the improving quality of life for urban folk. In Cambodia we preferred the countryside because we felt if you're going to be desperately poor better be desperately poor in a scenic rural place where you can fish and your kids can help raise cows than be poor in a stinking city where the rich and the tourists rub your nose in it at every turn and you're tempted to send your kids out onto the streets to work.
On a more personal note we found the Cambodian roads appalling and occasionally terrifying. An extraordinary 'system' prevails whereby two-wheelers (of which there are millions) are expected to give way to bigger vehicles. Had we not moved off the road onto the sand shoulder when we heard them coming up behind us lorries would have run us over, no question about it. Add to the mix lots of SUVs driven by people who Have got a superiority complex but Have Not taken a driving test and you've got a recipe for disaster.
In the end Hannah (who had been reading generally about 'why poor countries are poor') concluded with sadness that Cambodia is an endemically corrupt basket-case with a hell of a way to go. Zoe had read more about the history and so was better able to understand the country's specific issues. But in the end we were both relieved to leave Cambodia intact five days before our visas ran out thus buying ourselves more time in a country that could hardly be more of a contrast: aahh, lovely Thailand!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
You funny lot
We get lots of entertainment from looking at the viewing statistics on our Flickr page. Hannah would like to know why only 14 people have looked at her in her bikini whereas 25 people have looked at Zoe. We didn't even know we had 25 friends. We'd also love to know why nine people looked at the picture of 'dirty feet', for example, but only five looked at 'shifty looking granma'. To try to understand your preferences we shall be conducting some experiments over the coming months...
First fortnight in Cambodia
Sua s'dai (hello) from us both from Kratie in north east Cambodia. It's hard to believe we've already been in the country for two weeks. It's lovely, and distinctly different from Vietnam in several ways that we've noticed so far:
Since arriving in Cambodia we've felt rather like we're on holiday, having had about six non-cycling days including one on the beach, one devoted to bike maintenance (more on the bikes in the previous post) and a couple spent worshipping at the often conveniently adjacent alters of Flickr and Happy Hour! Poor Zoe.. internet connections here are soo slow, and often just when she thinks she's managed to upload an image there's a powercut! Sometimes it's so frustrating only a mojito or a glass of beer over ice dulls the fury.
We've spent the last three days cycling north up the Mekong from Phnom Penh to a little place called Kratie, a typical slow riverside town with crumbling French colonial buildings and loads of squalor. Unpaved roads of variable ride-ability took us through (not past) an endless parade of rural life: stilt houses (see above), cows as tall as men, horses as short as children, pigs on motorbikes, dogs (mostly benign), barefoot and often naked children, some rather beautiful ladies (clothed), fishing, small-scale market gardening, jolly noisy temples, mosques, and lots and lots of floods.
Life expectancy is about 57 here, but older ladies have featured heavily these last few days:
Tomorrow is a major Buddhist festival and many villages have been fundraising for their temples by standing on either side of the road holding out baskets and yelling some sort of running commentary into a badly distorting microphone. As we approached one such ambush we were spotted and the Khmer commentary turned to 'hello' etc, giving the whole village advance notice of our arrival. As we pulled up the lady with the microphone (and a mouthful of metal teeth) opened with 'where are you from?' in English, so Hannah gave a short broadcast interview to the village whilst having her sweaty chin inexplicably tugged by her interviewer as Zoe had her nose tugged by another old lady.
In a place called Chlong we stayed in a more basic guesthouse than usual ($5) because it faced the Mekong and seemed atmospheric. At first the old lady who ran it seemed sweet and Hannah could communicate with her in schoolgirl French. It all started to get a bit weird when we retired (at 7 o'clock – a record!) and she wanted to know how many dollars we'd spent on our supper. From our flimsy-walled room we gathered that she'd set up her bed in the reception room immediately outside, from where she proceeded to cough, hock, spit and fart loudly til dawn. Her two manky guard dogs joined the rest of the town's dogs in occasional howling contests throughout the night. It was some consolation that – when the power went off and our tiny fan stopped working – we could hear the vast Mekong flowing past. In the morning Zoe looked out of the communal bathroom window to find a naked teenage boy wanking in the garden whilst looking up at the window. Shortly afterwards Hannah came out of the shower to find Madame sitting looking cross. 'Donnez-moi deux dollar mademoiselle' she kept saying to us; it seemed she thought we should pay a supplement for having washed. We refused and got the hell out.
- Cambodia is much less crowded than Vietnam so although mopeds, dimwitted road behaviour and 'hello ambushes' are still omnipresent they're somewhat more bearable here.
- Once again most people live in reasonably sturdy looking homes, but here they're older, usually built on stilts and frankly more photogenic. Some are nicely painted and many have gardens. Unlike in Vietnam rural people do not have electricity (EVERYBODY in Vietnam has a tv!), and very few have running water. Instead they collect rain water from their roofs in butts and boil it to drink (we believe). Selves, small children and clothes are mostly washed in (brown) rivers. Towns seem to have very low voltage electricity which cuts out on a daily basis and is apparently bought at great expense from Vietnam.
- There is seemingly a greater level of foreign influence in Cambodia, with many foreigners involved in tourism, aid NGOs etc; by contrast, for better or worse Vietnam is confidently doing things very much its own way. Here the stark contrast between poor Cambodians and rich people (Cambodian or foreign) coupled with all the shite the country has gone through make for a certain hard-to-explain sadness. We'll try to put our finger on this better in a later post.
- The amount of English spoken in Vietnam by people not involved in tourism was virtually nil. We didn't see an English language school anywhere in the country. Here most teenagers running market stalls or coffee shops can quote a price in English, and some 12 year olds can attempt a conversation. The hello ambushes are also more varied: we've had hello Madame, hello Mrs, bye bye (instead of hello, very popular with tiny kids), ok, i love you, where do you go, where are you from, what is your name, how do you do, and our particular favourite happy new year!
- To our great surprise, the food is better! Random road-side stops in out of the way places fairly consistently reveal more varied and interesting flavours than their Vietnamese equivalents. We're particularly enjoying the coconut-based fish curries and dishes containing sprigs of fresh green peppercorns.
- In Vietnam every street food place has primary-school-sized plastic stools, whereas Cambodia has grown-up-sized plastic chairs.
Since arriving in Cambodia we've felt rather like we're on holiday, having had about six non-cycling days including one on the beach, one devoted to bike maintenance (more on the bikes in the previous post) and a couple spent worshipping at the often conveniently adjacent alters of Flickr and Happy Hour! Poor Zoe.. internet connections here are soo slow, and often just when she thinks she's managed to upload an image there's a powercut! Sometimes it's so frustrating only a mojito or a glass of beer over ice dulls the fury.
We've spent the last three days cycling north up the Mekong from Phnom Penh to a little place called Kratie, a typical slow riverside town with crumbling French colonial buildings and loads of squalor. Unpaved roads of variable ride-ability took us through (not past) an endless parade of rural life: stilt houses (see above), cows as tall as men, horses as short as children, pigs on motorbikes, dogs (mostly benign), barefoot and often naked children, some rather beautiful ladies (clothed), fishing, small-scale market gardening, jolly noisy temples, mosques, and lots and lots of floods.
Life expectancy is about 57 here, but older ladies have featured heavily these last few days:
Tomorrow is a major Buddhist festival and many villages have been fundraising for their temples by standing on either side of the road holding out baskets and yelling some sort of running commentary into a badly distorting microphone. As we approached one such ambush we were spotted and the Khmer commentary turned to 'hello' etc, giving the whole village advance notice of our arrival. As we pulled up the lady with the microphone (and a mouthful of metal teeth) opened with 'where are you from?' in English, so Hannah gave a short broadcast interview to the village whilst having her sweaty chin inexplicably tugged by her interviewer as Zoe had her nose tugged by another old lady.
In a place called Chlong we stayed in a more basic guesthouse than usual ($5) because it faced the Mekong and seemed atmospheric. At first the old lady who ran it seemed sweet and Hannah could communicate with her in schoolgirl French. It all started to get a bit weird when we retired (at 7 o'clock – a record!) and she wanted to know how many dollars we'd spent on our supper. From our flimsy-walled room we gathered that she'd set up her bed in the reception room immediately outside, from where she proceeded to cough, hock, spit and fart loudly til dawn. Her two manky guard dogs joined the rest of the town's dogs in occasional howling contests throughout the night. It was some consolation that – when the power went off and our tiny fan stopped working – we could hear the vast Mekong flowing past. In the morning Zoe looked out of the communal bathroom window to find a naked teenage boy wanking in the garden whilst looking up at the window. Shortly afterwards Hannah came out of the shower to find Madame sitting looking cross. 'Donnez-moi deux dollar mademoiselle' she kept saying to us; it seemed she thought we should pay a supplement for having washed. We refused and got the hell out.
Bike-related dramas
Our Thorn bikes are lovely and when we've emailed Thorn with queries about maintaining them we've had helpful, clear advice from Lisa who sold us the bikes, Andy who designed them and Robin who founded the company. Having top notch bikes reduces anxiety. Ish. We have had a few bike-related dramas, not all of which we're happy to admit to:
Thanks to Vicki B our bikes arrived safely at Stansted in a fish van and thanks to baggage-handlers at Stansted, Berlin, Dusseldorf and Beijing Airports they arrived safely in China. After our first day elatedly zooming around Beijing Hannah reckoned she had a slight kink in her front wheel and – to cut a long and upsetting and embarrassing story short – ended up turning a slight kink into a monumental f-up. The moral of this story is do not ever attempt to true a wheel unless you know what you are doing. Fortunately a bike shop in Beijing (Windspeed's Chaoyang branch, to give them credit) made the wheel perfect again the next day for about £2.
Another long and painful to recall story resulted in us being told that we could not, as intended, take our bikes on the 40+ hour train all the way from Beijing to Hanoi. They'd have had to go ahead on a freight train but that train doesn't go right to the border and we'd have had to disembark somewhere in southern China in order to retrieve them, blaa blaa blaa. To our great disappointment we had to fly. So it was back to Windspeed bikeshop who dismantled and boxed our bikes for their unexpected flight, again for about £2. No problems with the bikes on arrival at Hanoi Airport.
In order to get through Vietnam within the one month permitted by our visas we took an overnight train from Hue to Saigon. Lots of people send bikes and mopeds on the freight train, they'll be fine, everybody assured us. On arrival in Saigon our bikes were there, but they were not fine. God knows what they'd done to them but both bikes had large scars on the frames and Hannah's had damage to the saddle and handlebar-ends. The moral of this story is box a bike for a southeast Asian train journey as you would for a flight; southeast Asians do not seem to recognise push bikes as precious, potentially valuable items.
On a related note, in Vietnam every place that we stayed allowed us to store our bikes inside their garage or courtyard or even indoors. We always locked the bikes together and, whenever possible, chained them to something immovable. We tried to explain to people that we have to be super careful as we need the bikes in order to complete our trip (and added that our behaviour is conditioned by living in London), but our locking the bikes usually caused bafflement and, we fear, sometimes offence. It's a similar story here in Cambodia.
On a more positive note we have (apparently successfully) done our first bit of non-routine bike maintenance: we've resolved chain-slackness by rotating the “eccentric bottom-brackets” on both bikes (cue much mirth from Famille Darvill) and by removing a link from the chain on Hannah's. [Hannah discovered the consequence of chain-slackness the painful way when the chain slipped off while she was standing on the pedals, causing her to land hard on the cross-bar (bringing the first tears of the trip, ouch!) and to almost lose control of the bike - much to the confusion of the three hay-carrying cyclists she was trying to overtake at the time.]
Thanks to Vicki B our bikes arrived safely at Stansted in a fish van and thanks to baggage-handlers at Stansted, Berlin, Dusseldorf and Beijing Airports they arrived safely in China. After our first day elatedly zooming around Beijing Hannah reckoned she had a slight kink in her front wheel and – to cut a long and upsetting and embarrassing story short – ended up turning a slight kink into a monumental f-up. The moral of this story is do not ever attempt to true a wheel unless you know what you are doing. Fortunately a bike shop in Beijing (Windspeed's Chaoyang branch, to give them credit) made the wheel perfect again the next day for about £2.
Another long and painful to recall story resulted in us being told that we could not, as intended, take our bikes on the 40+ hour train all the way from Beijing to Hanoi. They'd have had to go ahead on a freight train but that train doesn't go right to the border and we'd have had to disembark somewhere in southern China in order to retrieve them, blaa blaa blaa. To our great disappointment we had to fly. So it was back to Windspeed bikeshop who dismantled and boxed our bikes for their unexpected flight, again for about £2. No problems with the bikes on arrival at Hanoi Airport.
In order to get through Vietnam within the one month permitted by our visas we took an overnight train from Hue to Saigon. Lots of people send bikes and mopeds on the freight train, they'll be fine, everybody assured us. On arrival in Saigon our bikes were there, but they were not fine. God knows what they'd done to them but both bikes had large scars on the frames and Hannah's had damage to the saddle and handlebar-ends. The moral of this story is box a bike for a southeast Asian train journey as you would for a flight; southeast Asians do not seem to recognise push bikes as precious, potentially valuable items.
On a related note, in Vietnam every place that we stayed allowed us to store our bikes inside their garage or courtyard or even indoors. We always locked the bikes together and, whenever possible, chained them to something immovable. We tried to explain to people that we have to be super careful as we need the bikes in order to complete our trip (and added that our behaviour is conditioned by living in London), but our locking the bikes usually caused bafflement and, we fear, sometimes offence. It's a similar story here in Cambodia.
On a more positive note we have (apparently successfully) done our first bit of non-routine bike maintenance: we've resolved chain-slackness by rotating the “eccentric bottom-brackets” on both bikes (cue much mirth from Famille Darvill) and by removing a link from the chain on Hannah's. [Hannah discovered the consequence of chain-slackness the painful way when the chain slipped off while she was standing on the pedals, causing her to land hard on the cross-bar (bringing the first tears of the trip, ouch!) and to almost lose control of the bike - much to the confusion of the three hay-carrying cyclists she was trying to overtake at the time.]
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Saigon and the Mekong delta – goodbye to Vietnam
We really liked Saigon, which though not the capital is the largest city and feels a world apart from the rest of Vietnam (we read on another blog that incomes in Saigon are three times the national average; certainly consumerism abounds). We visited the shocking war museum, spent two days exploring the Chinese merchants' quarter (Cholon – see Flickr), had a blind massage (though Zoe was diddled – her masseuse was not properly blind) and finally found the enthusiastic food culture we'd been expecting in Vietnam (pho soup with good cuts of meat and lovely bitter herbs, various sorts of spring rolls, frog*, gorgeous fruit juices).
*Animal-welfare enthusiasts will be horrified to hear we saw frogs in the market that had been skinned and their lips cut off, but that were still alive and tied together in wriggling bunches.
Next we cycled from Saigon across the Mekong delta and into Cambodia over six days, as follows:
- 10th – Saigon to Mytho – 88kms – Vietnamese road behaviour so bad Hannah properly lost it
- 11th – Mytho to Tra Vinh – 70kms – Mekong distributory-hopping via three ferries. Lovely scenery and good food en route
- 12th – Tra Vinh to Can Tho – 93kms – Long but interesting day with a good freshwater fish dinner at the end of it
- 13th – Can Tho to Rach Gia – 116kms – A day to remind us that this is the third world: a 'short-cut' via a 15km bike-trashing sandpit of a road followed by 50kms of continuous beeps and hellos resulted in us arriving after nightfall and foregoing supper in favour of a watermelon in front of the telly at our deserted hotel
- 14th – Rach Gia to Ha Tien – 93kms – The day of a major Asian festival (Mid Autumn), which meant even more people than usual sitting in front of their houses shouting at us
- 15th – Ha Tien to Kampot (Cambodia) – 49kms – Fascinating instant differences over the border: no paved road, even poorer, different-looking but noticeably FEWER people
So to conclude, we loved Vietnam and feel sad that many people who stick to the tourist trail don't experience it as we did. These are a few of the things we'll most remember:
We loved:
- The constant buzz (activity, colour, noise), especially in markets
- The uncynical friendliness of the people
- The visibility and confidence of women, and interesting gender dynamics
- Luscious landscapes
- The coffee
- Sugarcane juice
- Filled baguettes
- Buffalos
We had a bit of a love/hate relationship with:
- People constantly staring/ pointing/ shouting/ laughing at us (and occasionally pinching our arms/ cheeks)
- The very simple (read: boring) lives many people seemed to be leading (a sure sign of poverty). We spent a lot of time talking about this and trying to resist imposing our own values
We didn't like:
- People pulling out without looking. Not some people.. ALL people
- The constant, pointless beeping of motorbikes
- The deafening beeping of buses and lorries
- The fact that people often seemed to copy others' business concept rather than doing something different (e.g. hundreds of identical coffee shops side by side, all empty)
- The fishy smell that hangs around markets
- Bum ache
By the way, we spent on average $44/£25 a day between us in Vietnam (slightly more than expected), though on the Ho Chi Minh Highway (excluding accommodation) we struggled to find opportunities to break a £3 note most days.
On the road with the Darvill-Farmers
Most days follow a similar pattern:
- Snooze alarm clock a few times
- Make green tea (usually Hannah)
- Pack up panniers (doesn't take long thanks to our system – see previous post!)
- Check out of accommodation and faff a bit with hats, glasses etc
- Find breakfast (in southern Vietnam often a paté-filled baguette and a delicious coffee)
- After first 25kms more coffee (usually iced, with condensed milk!)
- 12 o'clock: Stop for lunch
- [About six hours would be our ideal cycling day but we often do more]
- [GPS Darvill (Jnr) is fairly reliable but has an unfortunate bug which means that any route-finding errors result in violent bouts of swearing]
- Later, roll up outside likely-looking accommodation. One checks cleanliness of bedding, A/C etc while the other waits outside being stared at
- Negotiate bike-storage arrangements
- Make green tea (usually Hannah)
- Wash selves and clothes (usually filthy)
- Stretch a bit, especially quads
- Put long clothes and DEET on and head out in search of supper, which is usually accompanied by one lager each
- Read or write a bit then early to bed!
We love moving on most days and mostly we quite like the feeling of not knowing how each day will end. Zoe says she can't imagine travelling any other way now than by bike, which Hannah is pleased about. Zoe also says the bag categorisation system is essential, which Hannah is pleasantly surprised about. Zoe and Hannah are getting on particularly well, which neither is surprised about.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Kit list
We anticipate a small subset of readers will be interested in this!
Kit list:
Hannah Front Left Pannier (HFL) – 'Practical'
Travel towels, like swimmers use
Carrier bag (CB) 1:
Small metal bowl (uses to be determined)
Mosquito spray
Bike lights/ head torches
Packing tape
Sewing kit
Bin bags
Freezer bags (invaluable, need to restock)
Tin of green tea, present from Diana in Beijing (used twice daily)
Tiny mirror
Tweezers
Nail clippers
USB sticks
CB2 - 'Bathroom':
Washing powder/ brush
Washing up liquid (for drinking bottles and bike chains)
Shampoo
Calendula cream
Deodorants
Toothbrushes/ toothpaste
Universal sink plug
HFR – 'H's clothes'
Soft shell jacket
CB1:
Z's spare glasses
H's diving mask
Diving computer
CB2 - H's undies (more than needed):
2 bandannas
Bikini
3 bras
5 pairs pants
5 pairs socks
CB3 - over clothes (probably more than needed):
1 pair green nylon trousers for evenings
1 pair green cotton waterproof shorts (+ 1 pair brown-camo baggy nylon cycling shorts, always on!)
1 turquoise nylon shirt for evenings
2 long-sleeved polyester tops (1 orange, 1 pale blue)
2 polyester t-shirts (1 torquoise, 1 red England football shirt)
2 sleeveless tops (1 cotton torquoise vest for sleeping, 1 polyester torquoise vest)
1 pair cotton boxer shorts (for sleeping)
HBL
CB1 - Books and documents:
Road atlas of Vietnam (remnants of, about to be disposed of)
Foldout map of Cambodia
Foldout map of Indonesia
Streetmap of Bangkok
Z's book (just finished: Jonny Ginger's Last Ride; next: something about the Khmer Rouge followed by The Mill on the Floss)
Hannah's book (finished: The Economist style guide + Eats, shoots and leaves – both sent home; next: The Undercover Economist and Teach yourself Indonesian)
Pocket mountain bike maintenance (present from Helen - invaluable)
South-east Asia graphical guide (present from Ben - invaluable)
Notebook
A5 size flags of the six countries we're visiting
Insurance docs
Photocopies of passports
Medical instructions from Dr Farmer
Diving certification
Vaccination records
Laminated photos of us with London landmarks (for giving as gifts!)
Various bike-related manuals
CB2:
Two plastic cups
CB3 - 'On the road' (sits at top of pannier):
1 spare inner tube
Tyre levers
Bike pump
Pedal spanner
Leatherman multitool (mostly used for knife)
Topeak Alien II multitool (contains chain-breaker etc, mostly used for Allen keys)
Peeler
Loo roll
Suntan lotion x 2
Floppy hats (worn on bikes whenever helmets not worn)
Naff visors (sometimes worn in combination with floppy hats/helmets - a great look)
Sweets
Fruit/snacks (sometimes)
HBR – pannier has holes in so is not waterproof
Reflective gear
2 D-locks
2 cable locks
Bike helmets (always worn in cities and on busy roads)
Tent poles
Bottles of spare water
ZFL - Z's clothes (probably more than needed) and undies:
4 pairs pants
4 pairs socks
2 bras
1 bandanna
1 cotton stripey vest (for sleeping)
3 polyester t-shirts
3 polyester long-sleeved tops
2 pairs shorts (black ¾ length polyester for on the bike, green cotton for off)
1 pair black leggings
Soft-shell jacket
1 pair green nylon trousers for evenings (though it appears mosquitos can bite through clothes)
1 black nylon shirt for evenings
ZFR - 'Medical'
CB1 – Creams:
Ibuprofen (good for knees!)
Benadryl + Eurax (for bites, allergies etc)
Nappy rash
Thrush
Arnica
CB2 – Tablets:
Malaria tablets
Imodium
Rehydration sachets
Antibiotics for tummies x2, one tablet used (effectively) to date
Antibiotic for other infections x 1, not used yet
Paracetamol
Ibuprofen
CB3:
Antibacterial hand cleaner
Roll-on Deet (used constantly)
CB3:
Sudocrem (melted everywhere, about to be binned)
Vaseline
Arnica tablets
Tea tree oil
Z's tampons
H's mooncup
First aid kit
Kettle
ZBL - Bedding
Tent (not used yet)
Sleeping mats
Silk sheet sleeping bags (used constantly)
Neck pillows
Sarongs
Miniature laptop and miniature mouse mat
ZBR – bike stuff + electrical stuff
CB1 - Bike stuff:
2 foldable tyres
6 inner tubes, none used yet
Puncture repair kits
Brake cables, none used yet
Gear cables, none used yet
Spokes (about 20), none used yet
Spare chain links
Spoke key
Adjustable spanner
Mini screwdriver (present from Julia, invaluable for glasses)
Electrical tape
Cable ties
Grease
Cloths for cleaning bikes
Loads of toothbrushes from hotels (for cleaning chains)
CB2 - Electrical stuff:
Power cable for laptop
MP3 players
Charger for MP3s
USB 2 cable
Mouse
Kensington lock
Camera battery chargers x 2
Universal adaptor
Alarm clock
Z's handlebar bag:
Camera
3 lenses
Spare camera battery
Spare flash card
Sunglasses
Keys
Money belt: Credit cards, passport, money
Eyeliner!
Chewing gum
Sweets
H's handlebar bag:
Map holder/ map
Money belt: Credit cards, passport, money (local and dollars), spare passport photos
Sunglasses
Whiz-away (invaluable, every woman should have one)
Camera + spare battery + spare flash card
CB1: Anti-bac liquid soap, Anti-bac hand gel, DEET, tissues, malaria tablets
CB2: Phrase book, point-it book, calculator, compass (used frequently)
Keys
Pen, pencil, rubber
Also carried:
Bike computers
2 bike-mounted water bottles each
Bike oil
1 pair of shoes each
2 plastic bowls (used daily for laundry, often for bike washing, rarely for vomiting)
Bungees (for holding bowls on to bike; double as washing lines)
Things we don't have yet but might get*:
Pair of flip flops each (NOW PURCHASED)
Separate Allen key for a particularly hard-to-reach spot on our front racks (NOW PURCHASED)
Body moisturiser (Z)
Belt (because our trousers are starting to fall down) (NOW PURCHASED)
*Please note this is not a list of requests; all of these things can be got here.
Kit list:
Hannah Front Left Pannier (HFL) – 'Practical'
Travel towels, like swimmers use
Carrier bag (CB) 1:
Small metal bowl (uses to be determined)
Mosquito spray
Bike lights/ head torches
Packing tape
Sewing kit
Bin bags
Freezer bags (invaluable, need to restock)
Tin of green tea, present from Diana in Beijing (used twice daily)
Tiny mirror
Tweezers
Nail clippers
USB sticks
CB2 - 'Bathroom':
Washing powder/ brush
Washing up liquid (for drinking bottles and bike chains)
Shampoo
Calendula cream
Deodorants
Toothbrushes/ toothpaste
Universal sink plug
HFR – 'H's clothes'
Soft shell jacket
CB1:
Z's spare glasses
H's diving mask
Diving computer
CB2 - H's undies (more than needed):
2 bandannas
Bikini
3 bras
5 pairs pants
5 pairs socks
CB3 - over clothes (probably more than needed):
1 pair green nylon trousers for evenings
1 pair green cotton waterproof shorts (+ 1 pair brown-camo baggy nylon cycling shorts, always on!)
1 turquoise nylon shirt for evenings
2 long-sleeved polyester tops (1 orange, 1 pale blue)
2 polyester t-shirts (1 torquoise, 1 red England football shirt)
2 sleeveless tops (1 cotton torquoise vest for sleeping, 1 polyester torquoise vest)
1 pair cotton boxer shorts (for sleeping)
HBL
CB1 - Books and documents:
Road atlas of Vietnam (remnants of, about to be disposed of)
Foldout map of Cambodia
Foldout map of Indonesia
Streetmap of Bangkok
Z's book (just finished: Jonny Ginger's Last Ride; next: something about the Khmer Rouge followed by The Mill on the Floss)
Hannah's book (finished: The Economist style guide + Eats, shoots and leaves – both sent home; next: The Undercover Economist and Teach yourself Indonesian)
Pocket mountain bike maintenance (present from Helen - invaluable)
South-east Asia graphical guide (present from Ben - invaluable)
Notebook
A5 size flags of the six countries we're visiting
Insurance docs
Photocopies of passports
Medical instructions from Dr Farmer
Diving certification
Vaccination records
Laminated photos of us with London landmarks (for giving as gifts!)
Various bike-related manuals
CB2:
Two plastic cups
CB3 - 'On the road' (sits at top of pannier):
1 spare inner tube
Tyre levers
Bike pump
Pedal spanner
Leatherman multitool (mostly used for knife)
Topeak Alien II multitool (contains chain-breaker etc, mostly used for Allen keys)
Peeler
Loo roll
Suntan lotion x 2
Floppy hats (worn on bikes whenever helmets not worn)
Naff visors (sometimes worn in combination with floppy hats/helmets - a great look)
Sweets
Fruit/snacks (sometimes)
HBR – pannier has holes in so is not waterproof
Reflective gear
2 D-locks
2 cable locks
Bike helmets (always worn in cities and on busy roads)
Tent poles
Bottles of spare water
ZFL - Z's clothes (probably more than needed) and undies:
4 pairs pants
4 pairs socks
2 bras
1 bandanna
1 cotton stripey vest (for sleeping)
3 polyester t-shirts
3 polyester long-sleeved tops
2 pairs shorts (black ¾ length polyester for on the bike, green cotton for off)
1 pair black leggings
Soft-shell jacket
1 pair green nylon trousers for evenings (though it appears mosquitos can bite through clothes)
1 black nylon shirt for evenings
ZFR - 'Medical'
CB1 – Creams:
Ibuprofen (good for knees!)
Benadryl + Eurax (for bites, allergies etc)
Nappy rash
Thrush
Arnica
CB2 – Tablets:
Malaria tablets
Imodium
Rehydration sachets
Antibiotics for tummies x2, one tablet used (effectively) to date
Antibiotic for other infections x 1, not used yet
Paracetamol
Ibuprofen
CB3:
Antibacterial hand cleaner
Roll-on Deet (used constantly)
CB3:
Sudocrem (melted everywhere, about to be binned)
Vaseline
Arnica tablets
Tea tree oil
Z's tampons
H's mooncup
First aid kit
Kettle
ZBL - Bedding
Tent (not used yet)
Sleeping mats
Silk sheet sleeping bags (used constantly)
Neck pillows
Sarongs
Miniature laptop and miniature mouse mat
ZBR – bike stuff + electrical stuff
CB1 - Bike stuff:
2 foldable tyres
6 inner tubes, none used yet
Puncture repair kits
Brake cables, none used yet
Gear cables, none used yet
Spokes (about 20), none used yet
Spare chain links
Spoke key
Adjustable spanner
Mini screwdriver (present from Julia, invaluable for glasses)
Electrical tape
Cable ties
Grease
Cloths for cleaning bikes
Loads of toothbrushes from hotels (for cleaning chains)
CB2 - Electrical stuff:
Power cable for laptop
MP3 players
Charger for MP3s
USB 2 cable
Mouse
Kensington lock
Camera battery chargers x 2
Universal adaptor
Alarm clock
Z's handlebar bag:
Camera
3 lenses
Spare camera battery
Spare flash card
Sunglasses
Keys
Money belt: Credit cards, passport, money
Eyeliner!
Chewing gum
Sweets
H's handlebar bag:
Map holder/ map
Money belt: Credit cards, passport, money (local and dollars), spare passport photos
Sunglasses
Whiz-away (invaluable, every woman should have one)
Camera + spare battery + spare flash card
CB1: Anti-bac liquid soap, Anti-bac hand gel, DEET, tissues, malaria tablets
CB2: Phrase book, point-it book, calculator, compass (used frequently)
Keys
Pen, pencil, rubber
Also carried:
Bike computers
2 bike-mounted water bottles each
Bike oil
1 pair of shoes each
2 plastic bowls (used daily for laundry, often for bike washing, rarely for vomiting)
Bungees (for holding bowls on to bike; double as washing lines)
Things we don't have yet but might get*:
Pair of flip flops each (NOW PURCHASED)
Separate Allen key for a particularly hard-to-reach spot on our front racks (NOW PURCHASED)
Body moisturiser (Z)
Belt (because our trousers are starting to fall down) (NOW PURCHASED)
*Please note this is not a list of requests; all of these things can be got here.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Thank you for the spiritual guidance
Thanks to everyone who responded to our cry for help with both philosophical and practical suggestions. Particularly pertinent were several variants on a theme of 'accept the Eastern phenomena of yin and yang'; we hope our two most recent blog entries showed that we're starting to get to grips with this principle.
We liked and certainly intend to act on the suggestion that we break up the cycling with some breaks and treats. We're currently having four nights in Saigon, a city we like very much. We've been busy 'refuelling' (as the photos illustrate) and tomorrow hope to find ourselves a massage in preparation for the next leg of our journey.
And finally we also particularly liked the suggestion that we afix a sign to our bicycles: 'can't stop now but thanks for your hospitality'.
We liked and certainly intend to act on the suggestion that we break up the cycling with some breaks and treats. We're currently having four nights in Saigon, a city we like very much. We've been busy 'refuelling' (as the photos illustrate) and tomorrow hope to find ourselves a massage in preparation for the next leg of our journey.
And finally we also particularly liked the suggestion that we afix a sign to our bicycles: 'can't stop now but thanks for your hospitality'.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Culinary adventures on the Ho Chi Minh Trail
Unfortunately we continue to be underwhelmed by the food in Vietnam. If we were on the Seafood-Diet in Beijing we're now on the If-You-Can-Find-It-You-Can-Eat-It-Diet, or perhaps the CanWePullOff90kmsAgainOnNothingButNoodleSoupAndSugaryDrinks-Diet.
Our quest for interesting flavours has certainly resulted in some adventures. First the lows.
In Yen Cat we walked up and down the one street at about six thirty looking for signs of people eating. In poor areas it seems Vietnamese people eat to survive not to socialise, so we had little choice but to break Rule No. 1 and resorted to a place that didn't have any customers. Hannah stuck her head into the kitchen and tried to make clear that we'd rather not have the heart lying on the side in a bowl but we'd give the chicken a go. Ten minutes, much chopping, and several mosquito bites later a large dish of nicely flavoured but nevertheless unidentifiable and inedible bits of chicken grissle emerged. Feeling terribly rude we ate some rice and greens (served up with a side of their own cooking water) and made a quick exit.
In Huong Khe we thought we were on to a winner when we found a lakeside eatery with a couple of groups of men eating and drinking. Unfortunately our phrasebook was of no help whatsoever in deciphering the menu and the young waiter's recommendation resulted in a crudely chopped up, boiled (but not thoroughly - evidently the chef had not seen the public health campaign poster in the image above), tepid whole chicken. Again we left without touching the meat and left feeling deflated in more ways than one. And now for the highs.
In Pho Chau we were more lucky. Sitting down in a dark 'street kitchen' containing several groups of young men we pointed at whatever they were eating and hoped for the best. In the low light we had no idea what we were eating but it tasted nice and after much discussion we decided it was probably congee (rice porridge) with freshwater eel (and fresh basil).
In Dong Ha we again tried the 'we'll have what they're having' trick and enjoyed a very flavoursome hot pot different to those we'd enjoyed in China in that it sat on a block of flaming paraffin. But the broth was tasty and we enjoyed the contents: noodles, herbs, okra, mushrooms, tofu, cubes of blood cake (bit like black pudding but with the smooth texture of tofu), cubes of beef heart and cubes of beef tongue.
In Tan Ky we experienced our most memorable meal to date. Walking through this end-of-the-earth place suffering from the familiar nobody's-eating panic Hannah said to Zoe 'I wish someone would just come up to us and offer - in English - to help us find something to eat'. Five minutes later a very surprised-looking (though apparently psychic!) English teacher from the local high school stopped her moped and - after some discussion - revealed that it was her 'dream' to talk with foreigners. We invited her to join us in the nearest 'restaurant' which she said was good but warned was somewhat expensive.. possibly as much as £1.50 per person. Turned out this was the place to try stewed dove. 'Very good for your health', apparently. Out came three little individual metal pots, each containing a soupy rice porridge topped with a whole dove. The doves were so well stewed that it only took the back of a spoon to disintegrate them (head and all) into the porridge before sprinkling on some green stuff and tucking in. To cut a long evening short the two of us ended up on the back of this tiny woman's moped dodging police (no helmets) to get to the edge of town to look at the stars and the silhouette of the mountains and then dropping in on her friend, the deputy-manager of the local bank, for some tea and bright pink cake. But not before the dove restaurant proprietress - a rather beautiful 56 year old veteran of the 'American war' (she put on her uniform and medals to prove it!) whose husband had left her and gone to Japan had tried to persuade us, or at least Zoe, to stay the night with her by begging Zoe (entirely through gestures) to try out her bed.
We're in Hue now and off to Saigon in the morning (24-hour train journey.. bikes have gone ahead, we hope!). In the next post we'll give some insight into 'life on the road with the Darvill-Farmers'.
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