Zoe's likenesses

Just had to add another quick post a. because I can and b. to share with you the announcement made by a Vietnamese man today that Zoe looks like Elton John. I think she certainly preferred the middle-aged Chinese ladies fawning over her and saying she looked like David Beckham. Katie if you're reading this remember 'Margaret Thatcher'?

Spiritual guidance needed

Since arriving in Vietnam we've been feeling a bit up and down. Perhaps unsurprisingly it's dawned on us that what we're experiencing now is probably broadly typical of what we'll experience for the next four months: some very beautiful and/or interesting things and very friendly people balanced with the less enjoyable realities of life on the road in south east Asia: being stared at ALL the time, greeted by just about everybody (delightful but exhausting) and of course variable levels of hygiene and physical comfort. We had one day where we cycled over 110kms on a straight road through completely flat and boring scenery being beeped and shouted at continuously (for six hours) and not being able to find anything safe-looking to eat.

We're about to venture inland, hopefully for not more than a week, to ride along the so-called Ho Chi Minh Highway (a series of single-track, unsignposted roads apparently). We think the scenery will be nice, the roads very quiet, the settlements more spread out, and we're looking forward to more cycling. The downside is we may not be able to find places to stay (or even camp) and it may be very difficult to find food.

We've been doing a lot of talking and trying to develop a healthy philosophy about what we're seeing and doing. Yes, it's mind-expanding and character-building to see how some of the world's poorest people make the best of what they have, to eat what they eat, to smile back and be nice. But the language-barrier and the huge gulf in experience mean that interactions rarely go beyond hello, thank you, I'm from England, no we don't like Arsenal, yes Zoe does look the absolute spitting image of David Beckham, no my bike wasn't very expensive (lying through our teeth), yes I am going to lock it up even though you say there's no need, (pointing to mouth and raising eyebrows in order to ask) do you eat that weed you're fishing out of the river there, hello, hello, hello, hey, hey, hey, etc etc etc. The people most likely to speak a bit of English are those involved in tourism, who of course are a bit jaded and out to make money.

Zoe in particular finds it interesting being able to see lots of processes that normally take place behind closed doors or in factories (things being made, mended etc). So far it's all very visually stimulating though we wonder if even the novelty of five-foot-vases and whole slaughtered pigs being transported on mopeds and cute babies in bike baskets will wear a bit thin after a while.

Zoe has suggested we take it in turns to reply 'hello' (one hour on, one hour off) or get a tinny recorded message like many of the vendors on mopeds have, and I've even contemplated ways of drawing a fixed smile on my face to save my muscles.

We're aware this post might sound a bit spoilt bratty (and we haven't forgotten how lucky we are to be doing this) but right now we need some practical and philosophical strategies for really enjoying what we're doing and regulating the mood-swings. Any suggestions?

First ten days in northern Vietnam

Well, Vietnam's a bit different. Familiar in that it has many similarities with the rest of south east Asia, but very poor and a universe away from London or Beijing.

We've had three particularly nice days here so far.

1. Our first day in Hanoi was an introduction to the sensory overload that is Vietnam. Heat, action, and most of all noise. The Old Quarter consists of narrow streets brimming with trade and thronged with beeping mopeds and hawkers with fruit, flowers, tourist tat or raw meat balanced over their shoulders. If you look up you see a spaghetti of electricity wires everywhere. There's a nice lake and it's easy to find places to stop for a cup of thick Vietnamese coffee or 'the world's cheapest draft beer'. We had bun cha for breakfast, which is grilled pork meatballs in a sweet and slightly sour soup, served with noodles and fresh herbs to drop into the hot soup.

2. Having transported ourselves and our bikes to Cat Ba island via road and ferry we had a lovely one-day boat trip (with just four other tourists) in Halong Bay (see Flickr site). We were very lucky with the weather as the blue sky and green water made the most of the karst scenery and floating fishing communities. We kayaked through a tunnel into a lagoon, swam and then ate a nice fish lunch on the boat.

3. We're now in Ninh Binh, where yesterday we cycled out to an as yet completely undeveloped boat-trip spot called Trang An. For 60,000 dong each (£2 each) we were rowed (sometimes by feet when her arms were tired!) by a little lady in a conical hat for over two hours through karst scenery (but freshwater this time, not sea) including through five or six amazing natural tunnels just high enough for head-clearance. A kingfisher flew around and then landed obligingly on a small tree right in front of us. We also saw red dragonflies (and what we think was their pink larvae), butterflies and mountain goats. Afterwards we rode around a nice village - where a man kindly put a bit of air in Zoe's back tyre and wouldn't hear of any payment - before cycling back to our nice guesthouse through one of the almost-daily torrential rainstorms. Back at the guest house we cleaned our chains very thoroughly with toothbrushes and washing-up liquid before going out for a supper of the local speciality, very chewy goat.

Our seafood diet in Beijing

In Beijing we followed the Seafood Diet. That is, see food, eat it. The old ones are the best, eh?!

Beijing is worth visiting for the food alone. Beijingers love their food and are exceedingly good at cooking, presenting and devouring it. Being the capital the city also offers the opportunity to try food from all regions of China and we made a fair attempt to eat our way from the far south (very spicy) to the far north west (muslim, wholesome for the cold weather).

The most rewarding restaurants are the absolutely huge ones with massive (always very accurately illustrated though sometimes dubiously translated) menus, enabling us to sample a wide variety of things in a single sitting!

The stereotype that Chinese will eat anything with four legs that isn't a table does seem to be true. We tried snake (nice, reminded me of razor clams), cold chickens' feet (not nice but might have been better hot), sea cucumber (dull in taste and texture and looked like a turd floating in a bowl of wee but apparently good for virility), and of course duck's brains and tongues.

Apart from the bizarre stuff we also had plenty of more familiar meat, seafood and (always brilliantly cooked) fresh vegetables.

Three particularly funny things happened in restaurants.

1. In a Szechuan restaurant (south) we tried the region's variant on the nationally popular 'hot pot' concept. Thinking ourselves capable of handling a bit of chilli we asked for spicy level 3 (of 4). The idea with Szechuan hot pot is they mix up a huge bowl of sauce containing about 100 whole dried chillis and very strong-flavoured spices (star anise, nutmeg, peppercorns etc) and then you decide what meat and veg you want added from a huge selection on the menu. For example you might choose beef, hard-boiled quails eggs, various sorts of mushrooms and some greens and then they stir fry it all up for you with the sauce. (Variants on this concept include a soup-based hot pot and an oil-based hot pot into which you lob your own meat/veg to cook it.) While Hannah was in the loo the chef brought Zoe our selection of raw ingredients to obtain her approval. Misunderstanding the approach Zoe started clearing space on the table for all the raw stuff, much to the hilarity of the staff.

Above is a picture of the waitress once she'd finished removing most of the chillis from our hot pot!

2. In a Yunnan restaurant (far south west) we wanted to try the regional speciality crossing the bridge noodles, though we didn't know what this consisted of. We were first brought a plate of what looked like very thinly sliced raw fish, a raw quail's egg, and a bowl of tepid noodles. We figured we should mix everything up in the hope the heat of the noodles would cook the rest. Thank god we hadn't got as far as sampling the slimy result, because the waiter started gesticulating wildly at our teapot. Add tea, we wondered? No, no, no. Then the boiling hot soup arrived into which we should have put everything. The 'raw fish' turned out to be raw chicken.

3. In medium to upmarket restaurants they seem to like you to put your bag/s onto an empty chair and they then cover the whole chair with an embroidered jacket. I suppose this is for security not that I can imagine anybody ever stealing anything in Beijing but anyway. This had happened in a posh Beijing duck restaurant so we reckoned we knew the drill. One evening we were in a different sort of hot pot restaurant (half soup, half hot oil) and the waitress came up to Hannah carrying a laundry basket. Hannah reached over to the next table, retrieved the previous customers' used napkins (including one that had fallen on the floor) and popped them into the laundry basket. Turned out the laundry basket was intended for our shoulder bags and she wanted to place it on the empty chair next to Hannah.

Wot we have been up to in Beijing

Since arriving in Beijing on 29th July we have:

• Cycled around a lot (see first post)
• Tried to eat our way around China's many regions (see upcoming post)
• Been to the Forbidden City, Summer Palace and other city sights
• Taken an overnight sleeper train to Xi'an, seen the terracotta warriors, taken an overnight sleeper train back
• Done a four hour walk along a remote (and precarious) section of the Great Wall
• Been to the 798 Art District and other galleries
• Seen an acrobatics show so amazing it made me almost cry
• Waved a union jack at the road side for the women's road cycling race (which I like to think made all the difference)
• Lolled around the flat a lot with no clothes on, taking cold showers, using lots of talcum powder and complaining about the heat
  
• Fretted about our bikes and how to get them to Vietnam

Beijing 2008

The work that has evidently gone into preparing Beijing for the Olympics is staggering. Beautiful it is not, but the city is immaculate, ordered, calm. What is most impressive is the pride shown and responsibility taken by individual citizens.

For example, yesterday we stood on a street corner for a few seconds whilst consulting our map: two separate individuals came and politely offered help; the day before we asked for directions and a woman teacher who was clearly on her way somewhere (else) walked with us for a kilometre to show us the way.

I like this article on the Guardian's blog, which concludes:

“It is the public on the streets (of Beijing) who do most to make a stranger feel welcome, the officials here are all about no-smoking zones, security checks and no access. For all the billions of dollars, brilliant stadiums and absorbing sport, these Games would be rotten if the Beijing public weren't what they are: friendly and welcoming, tolerant but spirited.”

I also found the readers' comments interesting, particularly with regards to London 2012.

Beijing bicycle

Modern Beijing is criss-crossed by a grid of enormous 6 to 12-lane roads like motorways/runways! There are an awful lot of cars and taxis, quite a lot of bendy buses, and a lot of bicycles (though not quite as many as I had expected). To give you a rough idea, at traffic lights there is usually a posse of 5-15 cyclists and a similar number of pedestrians.

What strikes us is how much more predictable and how much less aggressive the road behaviour is here, compared with London where I say a little prayer of thanks each day when I arrive home safely. Every road has a cycle lane along both sides and by lane I mean a whole lane, as wide as the other lanes. Mopeds and pedestrians also use these lanes (and buses and taxis can pull in when they need to pick up/drop off) but everyone coexists calmly. Sometimes these lanes are separated from the road by a reservation; other times not.

In China you drive on the right. By necessity (because of the width of the roads and the infrequency of opportunities to cross) it is absolutely acceptable to cycle the wrong way up a road. Where the cycle lane is part of the road those cyclists going the wrong way hug the inside and those going the right way move out (left) towards the traffic. Where the cycle lane is completely separate the reverse is true: cyclists treat the lane as a road and keep right. There is some scope for confusion at junctions but people just behave nicely and somehow it works.

The only thing that's a bit unnerving is that, when cyclists have a green line to go straight across a cross-roads, right-turning vehicles are also on green and have to cross the cycle lane. Ditto traffic joining from the right. A bit of nerve is required here. Our way of handling this is to look both ways and hold our line whilst covering our brakes just incase. Chinese cyclists seem either to give way to the larger vehicle or to plow on without so much as a glance. Either way the driver will tend to be looking for cyclists and will give way rather than risk hitting anyone. The few drivers that are more pushy usually give warning by hooting.

As you cycle you see Beijingers trying to hang on to the communities that have been carved up by all the road-building. Early evening is the best time: people walk their little woofer dogs (we even saw a poodle having its bum wiped) or go out for supper and many middle-aged and elderly citizens sit next to the motorways I mean roads playing mahjong or cards.