Leaving Lithuania behind

Anticipating another awkward journey of getting buses back to the airport, I looked up the words for bus station so that I could make sure my first bus would be going in the right direction. I also found out the word for airport and set off two hours early, not knowing how frequent the buses were. I was half way to the bus stop, when I found the 120 mini bus that I wanted two days ago. Although the driver was on a break, I persuaded him to let me on there, since I had no idea where the proper bus stop was. It was a really quick and direct journey, although this meant arriving at a tiny airport stupidly early. There were only three flights out, that day. The airport had one cafe and a shop.

Kaunas, Lithuania

Kaunas in February feels like a sleepy little town, rather than Lithuania's second largest city. The old town seems empty and even the new town, with its long street of fashion stores and cafes is so quiet for a place of this size. I keep thinking if this was London, the streets would be packed, but Kaunas is nothing like a British city. The people here seem relaxed and go about their daily life with an acceptance of what they have. Some of the buildings are quite run down and many unoccupied, yet the people seem content.

Today it rained a lot, so I made my way to The Devils museum, which had some really imaginative carvings of Lithuanian devils as well as a floor of international exhibits such as Mongolian masks and Bolivian straw dolls. As with everywhere else, I had the museum to myself, apart from the staff, who really should know better than to rustle about behind curtains, in a dimly lit room of devils because it felt a bit spooky. They were working on the display, completely oblivious to the macabre situation. Most of the depictions were quite sweet but there were a few masks, with hair and teeth that conveyed the horror that was intended.

I would really like to visit Vilnius because I hear its a lot like Kaunas, except that its bigger with more to do and see. They also have a craft market and a lot of art galleries. After seeing the standard of their illustrations and creativity, it sounds like somewhere that I would like to see.

Kaunas, Lithuania

Getting into town was quite a task. The words for place names are destinctly unfamilar and trying to understand written signs felt impossible. After arriving at Kaunas airport, I waited at a bus stop with a group of people until no. 29 turned up. Not the one I was expecting but everyone got on, and usually following the majority usually leads to the town center. The driver pulled away before I had chance to ask, and I was on board, so I had blind faith as well as a bit of reassurance from the other passengers that they thought the bus 'might' be going via the train station. At least that was on my map. The driver took payment and juggling change whilst negotiating duel carriage way slip roads and other obsticles. The view became more build up and we were approaching the edge of the new town. I began to catch street names, so knowing roughly where I was helped. A while later, the driver looked over and hinted that this was my stop, either that or it was as far as I had paid for, so I got off. The guidebook mentioned bus 1, 3, 5, or 7 all lead to the old town, so I got on the next no. 3, presuming that since we had been heading towards town on that side of the road, that it would be the right direction, but to my horror, the bus was heading back out of town. A girl on the bus confirmed this and told me to get a no. 1 trolleybus to the old town, from the other side of the road. It felt identical to the last bus, packed with locals and the same system of payment to the driver. Eventually I made it to within a short walk of the guesthouse.

Kaunas is a really creative place, with beautifully illustrated books, wooden toys and amber jewelery. There is a strong sense of individual style, heavily influenced by folklore. I think I may have to visit the museum of devils tomorrow because we don't have one of those at home!

I like the architecture here. The buildings in the old town look a lot like Prague, or any other European city, with tall merchant houses, painted in pastel shades. However, the churches and cathedrals seem to have a Russian influence, being more domed than angular, in whites and grey. I'm staying in a converted church, which is a gorgeous building. My room is cosy, although the crucifix on the wall is a bit disconcerting, as is a Lithuanian version of the Bible next to my bed.

Zacopane, Poland

As the guy on the bus said, Zacopane is like a different country to the rest of Poland. It's quite close to the border of Slovakia, amongst the Tatra mountains. Once we had left Krakow, the landscape soon changed from dull, square buildings to beautiful wooden houses, painted in different colours, set against the hill side. We began to see patches of snow in the fields, which increased gradually until we reached the roads leading up to Zacopane, with skiers set against the pure white slopes.

The Polish guy I met on the bus showed me where to buy tickets for my journey back and then I continued towards the town. Zacopane has wonderful open markets with interesting food and smells. I decided that I should buy a warm hat since they are so much cheaper here than in England. Prettier too.



I walked through various market stalls until I reached a funicular railway, leading up the mountain side. I took the train, which provided amazing views across to the mountains opposite. I slowly edged around, as the snow had frozen over and was packed hard. Despite this, I fell backwards hitting my back and possibly my head on the ice. I can't actually remember. Momentarily I felt a shockwave of concussion but as the sensation left, I forgot all about it and carried on taking photos. I finally found some great tasting food on top of a mountain in Poland. I passed a stall cooking sausages and sauteed potatoes on a large, outdoor grill and I had to turn back because the smell was amazing.

It turned out that they day I chose to visit Zacopane, the town was hosting a ski jumping competition, so crowds of Polish tourists filled the streets, celebrating with crazy hats and red and white costumes. It felt like the Polish equivalent of Benidorm as everyone was out to have a good time, but it was impossible not to feel part of the fun and celebration.



I took the coach back to Krakow, where I arrived in the early evening. I returned to the hostel where I made some dinner and met an English guy who teaches Polish students and decided to see the country for himself. We went out to an Irish pub and talked about the places that we had travelled to and life in England. Later, we moved on to a rock club which I felt much more at home in. It made me smile, as the long haired bartender was playing chess with one of the regulars, as black metal music played loudly in the room. Everyone was friendly and we enjoyed a great selection of mainly Scandinavian metal bands, smiling at some of the over the top mixes of club anthems that were played, all metaled up.

***

I had a really bad headache that night and it didn't become apparent until the following evening, when I returned to London and my friends noticed that I had bruises on my shoulder blades, that I remembered the fall in the mountains. I realised that I had concussion. That would explain a lot, all the falling asleep, the clumsiness and the feeling slightly off, but within two days it was gone. I don't recommend going to rock clubs when concussed.

Krakow, Poland

I didn’t have any expectations for Krakow other than the photos I had seen that looked pretty and that people told me it snows alot. However, there still isn’t any snow despite BBC saying there will be today, it hasn’t happened yet and isn’t looking likely. Krakow has a lot of character and many interesting buildings.

I arrived yesterday afternoon after a good flight and an express train to the town center. The train station is next to a huge shopping mall, which is nearly as extravagent as the one in Prague. After a short walk, I found the main town square with its gothic style church and decorative buildings. The hostel is right in the centre, so I unpacked my stuff and headed out for food. I decided to go for Polish, which came with a similar style bread and spread course to Prague, however the pork and dumplings that I ordered were quite different! Unfortunately it came in a red/orange/oily sauce with a smell that made me feel nauseous. Not a good start, so I tried to scrape the sauce off the dumplings but that didn’t improve the situation. The waiter said they were dumplings with potato in the middle, which sounded fine but the texture reminded me of a savoury version of the oriental dessert, Moochi, except they tasted of fat. I was only able to eat a few of them because they were too aweful! The pork itself was fine but the taste of the sauce was too much so I left a lot of it. I think I got really unlucky finding such a revolting flavour and hopefully next time will be better. I have no idea what the sauce was.

When I returned to the hostel, I met a Polish girl called Dorothea who knew Krakow quite well so she took me out to find cake. I bought what looked like a marble cake but even that was a bit strange. With poppy seeds and icing on the top, and a nutty chocolate mix with pieces of fruit peel, it was more of a success than the previous meal. I went to a Mexican restaurant with Dorothea and had a drink while she ate her spicey dish. Later, she showed me around Krakow, pointing out all the sites that I’d return to in the morning. We finished the evening in a coffee shop with surrealist artwork covering the wall and large yellow tulips on our table.

I spent today walking around and taking photos. I found an apple cake that I actually liked, and bought some food from a supermarket for lunch. I think I’m going to return to the hostel and see if I meet anyone who feels like going for dinner.

***

I decided to cook my own ‘Polish’ food tonight, since I thought at least that way I get to choose what I eat and hopefully make something nice. I found spinach pasta in a supermarket, and after much time working out what each sauce was, I found a cheese and mushroom mix which I thought would go with the pasta. As soon as I added water it smelt disgusting. I continued cooking it anyway in the hope that it might improve when heated. It tasted like mouldy sock and plastic mushroom sauce and was promptly binned. Thankfully the pasta was edible and I amused a group of French people in my attempts to cook. It didn’t help that there was no appropriate cooking utensils, saucepans, microwave or working oven, so all things considered, I feel it was quite an achievement.

Krakow town square, Poland from Natalya Dyer on Vimeo.

Krakow feels incredibly small compared to Prague and I think I’ve covered it pretty well. It’s a nice city, but compact. It doesn’t look like there will be any snow here so I’m planning on getting a bus to Zacopane tomorrow, known for its timber buildings and mountains. I asked the lady on reception what the roads would be like and if they were icy and she assured me that they will be ok. I might google for other travel blogs to find out how bad the journey is. It’s also two hours each way.

I have a feeling that when I return home, I won’t want to eat bread for a while! Breakfast at the hostel is either cereal and milk which I don’t have or stale bread and jam. Bread is available everywhere and great slabs of it arrive with fat at the beginning of each meal. I bought some ham at the supermarket, which even that tasted like nothing I’d had before. I wasn’t keen on the flavour. After having several mini frankfurters for lunch, I think that might be another snack that I’ll skip for a while! Polish people must really struggle with our food when they come to England, so I see why so many Polish delis have opened. It does seem to be a set of flavours completely isolated to this country. It’s a shame that I’m not enjoying them.

Prague in the snow, Video...

Prague town square in the snow:


Prague town square, Czech. from Natalya Dyer on Vimeo.

Prague, Czech Rep.

Today Prague has shown itself to be a contrast of interesting architecture and extravagant, sparkling shopping malls. We arrived in town by bus, and were greeted by fields of snow and grey buildings along the roadside, until we reached the town center. The landscape transformed into tall, grand architecture and copper domed spires. Each building appears to be different to the next in a European mixture of styles, colours and ornate stone facades.

By the early evening we were hungry, particularly after the steep uphill walk to the Castlesteps building, where we are staying. We headed out for food and eventually found U Sadlu, a medieval themed restaurant that I ate at a few years ago, and wanted to return to. Upon arriving we were told they were full, so we made a reservation for tomorrow night and ended up in a nearby Italian restaurant. They served a good pizza, a novel tiramisu and a medley of Madonna songs all evening. The atmosphere was relaxed and it was a nice place to eat.

We wandered into the cold, dressed in layers of fleeces and coats, back tracking to a huge Christmas tree which we had passed earlier. Their sense of decoration really captured me as it flashed like hundreds of tiny camera flashes and sparkled brightly in the square, so I decided to video the tree and its surroundings.

The tree stood in front of a huge shopping mall and worked like a siren, attracting us in, to take a look. It was quite incredible, even for someone that does a lot of shopping, it was breathtaking. There is nowhere in London that could match it in terms of size, design or the array of shops that it held. It felt like such a surprise after the ex communist Prague, to find a glittering, glass interiored shopping mall, like a retail palace of fantasy. The top floor even included a cake shop and various cocktail bars with futuristic lighting, as if it had been rendered by a computer program. We did lots of jewelery shopping and generally had a good time finding things that we could never get at home. It's been a fun day.

Essouira, Morocco

Essouira provided a calm and relaxing break from the heat, dust and hastle of Marrakesh. The pace was laid back and we could enjoy walking around the souks and various jewelery shops without recieving as much attention as before. I ended up buying silver earrings from a shop that trains young men without skills to become competent silversmiths. The designs here are beautiful and so intricately made.


We stayed at Dar Afram, a pretty riad on the edge of the medina, with a roof terrace that over looked the rest of the town and then out to sea. Everyone was really friendly and we enjoyed exchanging stories over breakfast, mostly about how ill we all felt in Marrakesh after eating at the Djemma el Fna! Somehow, we had all made it to Essouira and felt a lot better for being here.


I enjoyed my time here a lot, especially being able to walk along the beach, bare foot, parallel to the lapping sea. The strong wind created mini sand dunes and the sails of windsurfers glistened in the distance.

Marrakesh, Morocco

Marrakech feels incredibly different from being at home, and it has been nice to sit around drinking mint tea whilst enjoying the Moorish surroundings. At the top of our riad is a patio area with palm trees and coloured glass lanterns, where we sit for breakfast. Next to it is an outdoor structure with walls covered in fabric and window holes framed with red archways. The wood is dark and intricately carved and low down sofas occupy the walls. We have spent lots of time relaxing in this beautiful outdoor lounge, which provides a shady retreat from the chaos of the city.

We stayed at Riad Jnane Mogador as well as Riad Hotel Assia in Marrakesh, both of which were nice. Our favourite restaurant was Narwama, a magical and atmospheric restaurant with a fountain of fire, stylish background music and various bubbling water displays. The food is a combination of Thai and Moroccan gourmet cuisine accompanied by an attractive menu of cocktails too. The service was amazing, as was the venue and the whole evening. Infact it was so good, we went back twice during the holiday.

The souks have just as much character as I remember and some of the store holders and waitors recognise me from when I was here last in March, seeming genuinely happy to see a customer return, as they grab my hand and ask how I am.

Today we found a different part of the Medina that I hadn’t seen before and wandered down alley ways that led through interesting streets. There were buildings with pretty tiled entrances and others that lean in odd directions with gnarled sandstone fronts.

From the roof terrace of our riad the beat of tribal drums can be heard in the distance and the sight of smoke wafts into the sky as the afternoon draws to a close. This is when the main square Djemma el Fna comes alive, as large crowds gather around story tellers and the street kitchens buzz with conversation.

I think that most of all we have been enjoying the tranquil environment of the riad, which is gorgeous with its blue tiled courtyard and geometric patterns which continue through each floor. The fabric covered frame is amazing and the staff here can cook a delicious tagine at lunchtime with chicken, lemons and fresh herbs. We also took a taxi to the ‘Supratours’ coach station and booked tickets to Essouira for Saturday which should be fun.

Storks nests at the Palace El Badi

On my last day in Marrakesh, I walked to the Palais el Badi, which is currently occupied only by storks. Their nests are balanced precariously on the top of the pink, sandstone walls. They sail over the courtyard like prehistoric pterodactyls, casting a menacing shadow as they go. The crumbling walls are surrounded by orange trees although they provided little shade from the piercing sun. I continued back to the darkness of the Medina.

Shopping in the Souks, Marrakesh

This afternoon in sunny Morocco it rained, large wet spots, as people scurried into doorways and merchants covered their stalls. This followed an overcast morning where I decided to take the Marrakesh tour bus around the city, hoping to see sights which I otherwise wouldn’t. It was a disappointment and turned out to be more a tour of the hotels and modern city than the old part that I was interested in. But I sat with the other tourists and listened to their opinions on the city. It always surprises me how clueless some people are on the culture of the country they are visiting.

I sat in my usual cafe, over looking the Djemaa el Fna square, with its orange juice stalls and crowds of tourists like insects, swarming around a honey pot. I ordered a dish of couscous accompanied by something else, the description was lost in translation, so I ordered, hopeful that it would be something nice. It turned out to be couscous covered by a selection of vegetables in an aromatic Moroccan sauce. It wasn't as good as last nights meal of Rabbit Tagine.

Deciding it was not a day for photography, it seemed like an oppertunity for shopping. I disappeared into the souks, to browse an endless assortment of dimly lit stalls with interesting objects and shiny silver jewlerry stalls. The sellers were friendly and I recieved the usual ‘Moroccan face’ comments. I did my best to play up to this and knew I was getting a good deal when the store holder put my chosen silver items on the scales to work out a good price for me. He told me I was getting English price not American, and I told him I was getting Moroccan price because I was an English friend. It helped that he had an older brother in Bristol and liked the English, but I came away with lots of pretty things. The glass lamps here are gorgeous, but the thought of carrying them back with all my other hand luggage doesn’t appeal. Instead I settled for taking photographs of them, glistening through their coloured panels in the darkness of the souk. I think I shall print them out big and stick them on my wall.

Henna in Marrakesh, Morocco

With the shutters closed and a bed covered in heavy blankets I managed to sleep for twelve hours. To the sound of chirping birds, I made me way to the roof terrace and ordered bread and jam. The mid morning sun felt intense as I sat there drinking orange juice.

Finally I gathered my camera gear with the intention of photographing the sand coloured architecture. I followed a long road through the medina, passing market stalls either side until I came to a court yard of palm trees opposite a dusty road.

Away from the touristy part of town, I wandered through the streets and found myself in the weekly berber market. At this point I met my first guide who took me to a friends spice stall, where I was introduced to various teas, herbs and incense. Despite telling them I had no money they were perfectly happy to continue telling me about the flavours they use in their cooking as we drank sweet mint tea. Eventually I left and made my way to the Jewish quarter where a young group of school boys offered to show me to the synagog and seemed bemused when I stopped to photograph a donkey eating grass. I chatted to a group of teenagers and told them we have no donkeys on the streets of London. They understood, but everyone laughed when I showed them the pictures.

The synagog was interesting but not very photogenic. The boys seemed proud to have taken me there. I wondered if they aspired to be tour guides when they were older and wanted to practise their English skills. I didn’t pass a single tourist while I was with them.

With so many alley ways I am always curious to see what appears around the next corner. Where I am seems to be residentual with a school and an old stone bakery. Children play in the street and older men lurk in doorways. A young man tells me there is nothing ‘this way’, and takes me through the souks to a Jewish cemetary. I meet another man who’s job it is to look after the cemetary and tells me some of its history. It consists of hundreds of raised mounds in the earth, stretched over a field sized piece of land.

My new guide tells me he is studying medicine and we begin to talk about life. He asks if I would like to drink tea with his brothers and sisters, so I accept. I remembered the tales of Summer, my tour leader from a previous visit, and her Moroccan ‘family’. We go through a small wooden doorway with a stone floored basement covered in diamond shaped tiles. In a typical style for Moroccan houses there is a narrow staircase which leads up to a courtyard, filtering off to the kitchen and living room. I am introduced to his sisters, brother and mother who sit on low down sofas watching tv. They seem completely relaxed at my presence and Braheim brings everyone mint tea. I photograph the silver tea pot and Braheim takes my photo with his little sister who wraps her arms around me and seems delighted to be photographed.

As we talk, my new friend asks if I have tried henna tattoos and I tell him I want to get one before I leave. He tells me he knows a berber woman who is very good and we set off to find her. As we walk through the streets, young boys kick a football around and a group of men are throwing playing cards into a circle. Women chatter amongst each other and teenagers hang around on bicycles. The pace here is slow, with much warmth and compassion for others. Braheim yells ‘Jamelia’ into several doorways and we walk up and down the street a few times before he asks an older woman who appears with a wild looking berber woman, with thick straight hair and fierce eyes.

I take the oppertunity for Jamelia to mix a solution of sugar, water and henna as Braheim tells her I want traditonal brown henna. This seems ideal as I sit in the woman’s home, under the recomendation of locals, feeling as if I am being accepted into their community. She is very good compared to the women that work in the heat of the main square. She probably takes half an hour and begins adorning my hands with swirls and petal shapes. While I wait for the henna to set, an older woman makes the four of us mint tea and we sit chatting, with music playing in the background.

They treat me as a friend and tell me I have a Moroccan face and look like ‘Fatima’. I find this amusing but it seems that they see me as one of them, and feel happy to talk to me and show me around without money. Apparently because I have ‘Moroccan face’ and ‘nice smile’. I shake hands and leave my new found friends to head back to the hotel. Everywhere I look people are generous, helpful and welcoming.

Marrakesh, Morocco

We left Harrow in the crisp night air to arrive at a nearly deserted Luton airport. By six am I was on the way to Marrakesh, not sure whether to sleep or stay awake. The night time seems a blur. I ended up repacking my bags as no liquids were aloud and managed to smear my kaftan in deodrant as I was too tired to realise I was wearing it under my fleece.

A few hours later I found myself chatting to a couple as we waited in line at passport control. They were heading to the Medina also, so after happily being reunited with my baggage we made our way to the taxi rank and haggled mildly over the fare.

Everything I had remembered about Marrakesh seemed emphasised. It was somehow brighter, more alive and even the architecture felt more intense. I felt welcomed once again to this Medieval city, flowing with character. This time, it is no longer Rammedan and people are going about their daily routines in a way that seems to have changed little over the centuries.

I paid a young boy to find my hotel, which turned out to be a beautifully ornate riad with Moorish archways adorned in blue tiles. We wove our way along narrow streets and dusty alleyways, passing donkeys carrying colourful woven bags and locals selling fresh mint leaves. The atmosphere is both magical, exciting and alluring, with souks to explore and old walls to photograph. Everywhere I look is paradise to my unfamiliar eyes.

Hotel Essaouira, Marrakesh.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

There must be a special trick to peeling mangoes but I don’t know it. Instead I cut off a piece at a time and enjoy this sweet, juicy treat. I came back from Psar Thamei market with bags of fruit, some of which I don’t even know the names, in various colours and textures. I have fresh lychees too and clementines. I know that when I return the thing I’ll miss the most will be, being able to buy fresh tropical fruit at any time of the year. Mangoes in the supermarkets at home are never as good or as cheap. Maybe I will develop an a taste for English fruit and learn to appreciate apples and pears.

I’ve been feeling better and decided to veture out to the largest market in Phnom Penn, with its huge dome shaped roof which covers a hall full of jewlery sellers and their brightly coloured jem stones. Spiralling off in all directions are various clothes, food and electrical stalls. I spent a few hours browsing, slowly taking in the smells, the sight of fresh meat being prepared. The trickles of blood that run silently along the dark, stained floors. Shiny, plucked chickens hang from wires, next to tables of golden apples. The gentle smiles I recieve are refreshing, once the tourist stalls of endless scalves and sarongs are left behind. I find baskets stacked high with squeezably ripe mangoes, bananas and an indistinguishable selection of leafy green herbs and root vegetables.

I pay a dollar between two stalls, run by wise, hardened women who have lived through a lot but their eyes remain eager and their lips upturned in good humour. As my fruit is placed on the scales I am offered various samples to try. I add some prickly fruit to the basket before handing over my riels. I leave the women to their chatter and feel inspired by the contentedness they display in simple but peaceful lives.

Ho Chi Minh City and the Mekong Delta, Vietnam

My first impression of Ho Chi Minh City was the vastness. The night train had chugged along for miles through urban sprawl. I arrived in the backpackers area of De Tham and started looking for somewhere to stay. I began to get worried when all the budget hotels were full but a moto driver found me a cheap room in a private house. It’s been really interesting staying with a family who spend the majority of the day cooking food in big pots to sell on the side of the street.

Yesterday I took a tour of the Mekong Delta, which was dissapointing as we spent too long on islands with souvenir stalls and not enough of seeing local life along the river. However it was still a good way to spend time away from the suffocatingly noisy city of Ho Chi Minh. I spent a while getting to know some Japanesse girls and a Khmer family who shared a custard apple with me. The Delta is full of unusal fruit.

For the final part of the tour we took a small wooden boat and weaved our way through narrow parts of the Delta, covered with leafy archways. There were some beautiful butterflies too.

I arrived back in time to find the New Year celebrations were just beginning, as various manned dragons paraded up and down the street, dancing in time to the tribal beat of a drum. The atmosphere was electric as locals and tourists a like were out to have a good time.

The pavements were lined with colourful food stalls and street vendors. Not long after sitting down I was joined by a group of British travellers. We all got on well, so we decided to head off to a top Vietnamesse night club, Apocalpse Now. The bar was adorned with red silk lanterns, the dancefloor packed with a friendly crowd and there was even a tropical garden area serving food. It was a brilliant night with the usual count down to midnight where baloons filled with sparkly streamers were released and lots of happy faces beamed. A raffle followed with a top prize of a refridgerator which we found slightly strange, and pitied the poor girl from Bangkok who had to contemplate getting her new prize home. By three am things were winding down and we finished the night off with a basket of chips at the indoor garden. As places go, Ho Chi Minh City has been a surprisingly happening place to spend New Year.

Nha Trang, Vietnam

I had expected not to like Nha Trang, from what I had heard it was a beach resort with a happening night life scene. Two things I hadn’t come for but to my surprise the town is small and although I could only describe it as peaceful if I was able to block out the jarring horns, traffic fumes and motorbikes, it does have its own charm. The beach is long and beautiful, the sea mesmerising and the horizon dotted with fishing boats. The town is lined with both cheap and expensive restaurants, many serving delicious fruit shakes and tasty noodle snacks but its not a place I could call pretty.

It felt so refreshing yesterday to escape the bustle of Nha Trang and head off into the countryside with my guide. I had a lovely day of driving through rice fields, seeing waterfalls and stopping off at fishing villages. It was a beautifully sunny day too and it felt perfect for seeing mountains covered in luscious green foliage and then stopping off at a beach with turquoise waters and fine white sand.

Nha Trang, Vietnam

Today I did something I never thought I would do. I joined the beach whales and bought swimwear. While it’s not exactly a bikini, a sarong and a bandeau style top seemed like a step in the right direction. I was beyond hot wearing trousers and a strappy top, so now I feel a lot more comfortable.

The waves here are quite something. I’ve never seen so much spray crashing upon a shore line. At first I wondered if we were expecting a typhoon but I’m told this is normal. I felt slightly smug about not booking a boat trip. The water around Thailand was so tranquil, that I hadn’t expected it to be so different here. Instead I booked a tour of the local countryside, where I shall see fishing villages and salt fields. For the moment, I’m enjoying the sun, sand and seafood.

Hue to Nha Trang by train, Vietnam

I’ve just watched the mountains fade into darkness and farmers abandon their fields for the night after a glorious day in the central plains. I’ve been on the train since this morning, originally feeling somewhat cautious about having an entire carriage to myself, let alone the cabin. A few hours later we passed the station of Danang where the train became alive with voices and I shared my cabin with the most unfriendly European couple.

The views have been incredible. As the train climbed uphill we passed through jungle, and wound alongside shanty towns and eventually proceeded to follow the coastline where I watched the waves crashing against the rocks and golden sands that continued for miles. During the second part of the journey the scenery became much flatter, as we cut our way across paddy fields that stretched to the horizon, glistening in the sun.

The journey itself consisted of a few meals, in the form of plastic containers filled with rice, leaves and possibly pork. I decided against eating the meat, as everything was barely warm and far from appetising. I was thankful for the supply of pasteries I had bought before leaving Hue.

A particular side pocket in my backpack seems doomed, after the previous nights ant infestation, as today it was the sunscream that decided to leak. The ants proved not to be too much of a problem as the hotel provided a huge can of insect spray (which I had hoped not to use) and took my pack in the hallway, where there was a lurking cockroach, and gave the ants a blast. I noticed the bathroom had a colony of tiny ants but other than that I’m not sure how they got there.

A few hours after dark we pulled into Nha Trang station where the hotel owner picked me up, balancing my pack on the front of his scooter and me behind. It can also be said by this point that my pack is quite heavy. The room is ok, plain but cheap. I also have an ensuite and a tv with a rock music channel so all is well. Not that I’ve come to Vietnam to watch satelite tv, but its still amusing where you can watch a copy of a mid nineties movie.

Hue, Vietnam

Today I visited the Forbidden City, which provided a peaceful escape from the constant horns and traffic fumes of Hue. The architecture was beautiful. I arrived yesterday morning, where initially there was some confusion over the $12 room and asking for a room with internet access. In the end they let me stay in a luxurious $30 room for the lower price, so I’ve been spending quite a bit of time online. Last night was the first time I’ve had my own room since I’ve been traveling and I had the most wonderful twelve hour sleep. Even though flights, dorms and night trains are fine, it does feel like I’ve been trying to fit sleep in around everyone else.

Other than the Forbidden City, there isn’t much else to see in Hue. It’s a very average city, with many restaurants and cafes providing menus for tours as well as food. Many tourists seem to come here as a stepping off point.

I have found it a lot friendlier than Hanoi. Maybe it’s because I walk everywhere that the locals stop and say hello, but even in street side cafes the owners are a lot more talkative. The downside to being in a smaller city is the hassle from the moto drivers, which fall into the ‘unskilled labour’ bracket. I get tired of the constant calls as I walk past and sometimes follow you, asking where you’re going and why you don’t take a moto. Even when eating at cafes men come to the tables, trying to sell drawings. I think out of principle, every Westerner says no. The other thing to get use to is when asking a question that they don’t understand, the answer is always ‘yes’.

Tomorrow morning I take the train to Nga Trang.

Vietnam photos

Vietnam Photos

I’m staying in Hue, and have a computer in my room so here are a few photos…
Click here for more photos of Hanoi and Sapa