Sa Pa is truly like heaven. Our room has a tremendous view which is lucky, because when I first saw the balcony I could barely see my hand in front of my face through the thick fog. Yesterday the mist rolled back as though the mountains were taking a breath. The low clouds are inhaled and exhaled all day long. Walking down a clear road you can see the mist sneak in from side streets or descend from rooftops.
We have explored the small streets, long stone steps, colourful markets, ruined churches. The H'mong village women follow us wherever we walk and try to sell us painfully beautiful and intricately embroidered blankets, pillow cases and clothing. We walked the 3km down to the Black Thai village of Cat Cat. The road allows views of the valley; a lace work of rice terraces and farm land. Entering the village we stepped down hundreds of rocky steps to a rickety wooden bridge and a waterfall.
It's hard to think about leaving but this is the start of a five day national holiday and we need to plan our escape. We asked our hotelier, a really bizarre guy, to find out about a bus to Lai Chau or Dien Bien Phu. We had a wealth of vague information about our options, but would have paid a bit extra for some confirmation and guidance. After he made some calls he came to our room, let himself in and creepily closed the door behind him. In hushed tones, he explained that the bus to Lai Chau is normally 105,000 dong but because of the holiday it would be 135,000 plus a 10,000 dong commission for his services. The bus to Lai Chau should cost 50,000 dong so we smiled and encouraged him with negativity to leave.
SO, tomorrow we are catching a bus somewhere. We have information that some buses leave from in front of a petrol station we were unable to find going to an undetermined location for an undisclosed price leaving at an hour between 7:30 and 16:30.
27.4.07
25.4.07
Why Are You So Late?
After a series of non eventful bus rides we reached the Friendship Pass border between China and Vietnam. It was dark and empty as we had arrived there at closing time. A guard asked "Why are you so late?" but still, mercifully, stamped us out of China. We walked in complete darkness (could they not spring for ONE streetlamp?) across the Friendship Pass to the Vietnamese border. This guard was not pleased to see us but took the time to call a buddy with a "taxi". We were driven from the border to Lang Son, where it was too late to catch a minibus to Hanoi but also where I did not want to spend any extended period. Border towns have bad reputations... The driver called someone who spoke better English and I negotiated with him on a fare to drive us all the way to Hanoi. It was a clear, dark night and as we navigated the narrow roads we passed hundreds of young people dressed in brilliant white tops seemingly just hanging out on the treacherous highway.
Our driver had apparently never been to Hanoi and had to call someone to meet us when we crossed the city limits. He pulled over on a road choking with motorbikes to look for his guides. (He's looking for two Vietnamese guys in dress shirts on a motorbike. Can you say needle in a haystack?) They arrived about 30 minutes later and we set off to find the Old Quarter. About two minutes into the trip we lost them at a busy intersection. That's when the screaming started. He drove down a deserted street, made a U-turn, called them back and let them have it. He pulled over and jumped out into the street, yelling at no one. They found us and we set off again, snaking our way through clogged roadways until we hit the lake.
Hanoi at 23:00 on a weekend is not a great time to find accommodation. Some streets were full of speeding motorbikes and minibuses, honking wildly at each other. Others were pedestrianized and set up with market stalls selling everything from playing cards to chicken feet. Most hotels were full, but we were led to one with an opening and crashed.
We spent two days and a night cruising around Halong Bay on a junk. It was very much like Ang Thong in Thailand; limestone mountains rising out of the sea, caves to explore, a multitude of birds scavenging, fisherman nestled in coves pulling nets. There were small bedrooms on the bottom deck, complete with bathroom which felt quite a luxury on a two star boat!
When we got back to Hanoi the rain began and steadily fell as we made our way to the train station. We were taking an overnight train to Lao Cai, heading for Sa Pa. We studied our tickets as best we could in the downpour and hopped on the first carriage. Our cabin was number 11, but we planned to walk the length of the train inside rather than risk falling on the slippery walkway outside. Several times we came to a locked door and were ushered back outside. By the time we found our cabin we were completely soaked. Our hard sleeper berths had no blankets so we pulled off the wet clothes we could discreetly part with and tried to bundle up for a chilly night.
In Lao Cai we hopped on a minibus bound for Sa Pa and enjoyed what must be one of the most gorgeous rides in the world. Sa Pa is a dream.
Our driver had apparently never been to Hanoi and had to call someone to meet us when we crossed the city limits. He pulled over on a road choking with motorbikes to look for his guides. (He's looking for two Vietnamese guys in dress shirts on a motorbike. Can you say needle in a haystack?) They arrived about 30 minutes later and we set off to find the Old Quarter. About two minutes into the trip we lost them at a busy intersection. That's when the screaming started. He drove down a deserted street, made a U-turn, called them back and let them have it. He pulled over and jumped out into the street, yelling at no one. They found us and we set off again, snaking our way through clogged roadways until we hit the lake.
Hanoi at 23:00 on a weekend is not a great time to find accommodation. Some streets were full of speeding motorbikes and minibuses, honking wildly at each other. Others were pedestrianized and set up with market stalls selling everything from playing cards to chicken feet. Most hotels were full, but we were led to one with an opening and crashed.
We spent two days and a night cruising around Halong Bay on a junk. It was very much like Ang Thong in Thailand; limestone mountains rising out of the sea, caves to explore, a multitude of birds scavenging, fisherman nestled in coves pulling nets. There were small bedrooms on the bottom deck, complete with bathroom which felt quite a luxury on a two star boat!
When we got back to Hanoi the rain began and steadily fell as we made our way to the train station. We were taking an overnight train to Lao Cai, heading for Sa Pa. We studied our tickets as best we could in the downpour and hopped on the first carriage. Our cabin was number 11, but we planned to walk the length of the train inside rather than risk falling on the slippery walkway outside. Several times we came to a locked door and were ushered back outside. By the time we found our cabin we were completely soaked. Our hard sleeper berths had no blankets so we pulled off the wet clothes we could discreetly part with and tried to bundle up for a chilly night.
In Lao Cai we hopped on a minibus bound for Sa Pa and enjoyed what must be one of the most gorgeous rides in the world. Sa Pa is a dream.
21.4.07
Hello, Beer, Hello
We booked a tour out to the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall. I still can't figure out whether or not it was a good idea. It was certainly stressful. We did know there would be "shopping" included in the tour. It was mentioned by the hostel and I remembered how our tour two years ago was detoured through a tea house where they tried to sell us our weight in green tea.
We left the hostel at 7:30am, which seemed an ungodly hour. We stopped to pick up a family from New Zealand and were on our way. We drove until 10:00 and made our first stop, a jade factory. We were herded into a small, bleak room and met by a robotic woman who sharply told us the finer points of the jade stone in its various forms. She mentioned several times the prized "happy family balls" which could be carved from jade. After the third time she said it we were in poorly masked hysterics. We walked through the "factory" where we saw three disinterested people twisting jade around on machines. Then we were brought to a showroom where jade bracelets were forced onto our hands and ordered to look around. After 45 boring minutes we were allowed to leave only to wait in the parking for the driver an extra 10 minutes. We stopped off at one of the Ming Tombs, which was average at best. I don't really enjoy going to an ancient site only to find it immaculately repainted and overly manicured. Pulling away from the parking lot here the guide told us it was too early for lunch so we would be visiting another jade factory. We were sentenced to another hour here, which was equally unbearable. Then we went off for lunch. Entering the "restaurant" the guide said she would go book our table while we walked through ANOTHER factory, this one for cloisonne. When we did enter the restaurant it was nearly deserted so apparently a reservation had been truly necessary.
When we finally pulled up to the parking lot for the wall it was 14:30. "Be back by 15:45!" the guide cheerfully shouted at we made our way to the cable car. So after driving and visiting jade factories for seven hours she was giving us a generous one hour and fifteen minutes to explore the only thing we had wanted to see in the first place. We were up there about two hours, both out of spite and to preserve sanity.
On the way back to the hostel she tried to hold us hostage and force us into a tea house. We rebelled and, after an argument, were released.
The next morning Iona, William, Jessica and I left by train for Guilin. It was a 27 hour ride, but we thought we'd be cheap and adventurous and take the lowest class. We were in non-reclining seats that faced eachother. Next to us was a woman with the smelliest feet in all of Asia and she insisted on putting them on the seat right next to whoever was sitting close. People stood in the aisles. People smoked in the doorways. Everyone stared. Sunflower seeds were spit at our feet. It was fantastic.
We arrived in Guilin physically exhausted but invigorated by the fresh, warm air and our escape from the train. We hoppped on a bus to Yangshuo right away.
Yangshuo is breathtaking. It is nestled in the foothills of limestone giants. Every street you walk down greets you with the view of a towering hill of brilliant green. We rented bicycles and rode around the rice paddys until we reached the Li River. Then we jumped on bamboo rafts and drifted downstream for two hours. Along the way we saw vendors on floating bamboo stores and restaurants offering us drinks and roasted fish. Occasionally we would go over a small dam and have splash. A floating photo station was waiting to take a picture of our adventure and offer us a printed copy of the shot. Just like Disney World!
It was an amazing place and good to see China outside of a big city.
We left the hostel at 7:30am, which seemed an ungodly hour. We stopped to pick up a family from New Zealand and were on our way. We drove until 10:00 and made our first stop, a jade factory. We were herded into a small, bleak room and met by a robotic woman who sharply told us the finer points of the jade stone in its various forms. She mentioned several times the prized "happy family balls" which could be carved from jade. After the third time she said it we were in poorly masked hysterics. We walked through the "factory" where we saw three disinterested people twisting jade around on machines. Then we were brought to a showroom where jade bracelets were forced onto our hands and ordered to look around. After 45 boring minutes we were allowed to leave only to wait in the parking for the driver an extra 10 minutes. We stopped off at one of the Ming Tombs, which was average at best. I don't really enjoy going to an ancient site only to find it immaculately repainted and overly manicured. Pulling away from the parking lot here the guide told us it was too early for lunch so we would be visiting another jade factory. We were sentenced to another hour here, which was equally unbearable. Then we went off for lunch. Entering the "restaurant" the guide said she would go book our table while we walked through ANOTHER factory, this one for cloisonne. When we did enter the restaurant it was nearly deserted so apparently a reservation had been truly necessary.
When we finally pulled up to the parking lot for the wall it was 14:30. "Be back by 15:45!" the guide cheerfully shouted at we made our way to the cable car. So after driving and visiting jade factories for seven hours she was giving us a generous one hour and fifteen minutes to explore the only thing we had wanted to see in the first place. We were up there about two hours, both out of spite and to preserve sanity.
On the way back to the hostel she tried to hold us hostage and force us into a tea house. We rebelled and, after an argument, were released.
The next morning Iona, William, Jessica and I left by train for Guilin. It was a 27 hour ride, but we thought we'd be cheap and adventurous and take the lowest class. We were in non-reclining seats that faced eachother. Next to us was a woman with the smelliest feet in all of Asia and she insisted on putting them on the seat right next to whoever was sitting close. People stood in the aisles. People smoked in the doorways. Everyone stared. Sunflower seeds were spit at our feet. It was fantastic.
We arrived in Guilin physically exhausted but invigorated by the fresh, warm air and our escape from the train. We hoppped on a bus to Yangshuo right away.
Yangshuo is breathtaking. It is nestled in the foothills of limestone giants. Every street you walk down greets you with the view of a towering hill of brilliant green. We rented bicycles and rode around the rice paddys until we reached the Li River. Then we jumped on bamboo rafts and drifted downstream for two hours. Along the way we saw vendors on floating bamboo stores and restaurants offering us drinks and roasted fish. Occasionally we would go over a small dam and have splash. A floating photo station was waiting to take a picture of our adventure and offer us a printed copy of the shot. Just like Disney World!
It was an amazing place and good to see China outside of a big city.
13.4.07
Hold the Mutton, Please.
I refuse to even try to understand why, after having our passports checked by both the Russians and the Mongolians which takes three hours, we have to sit at the border in silence for seven more roasting hours before continuing on to Ulan Baatar. At least this time our cabin was not disconnected from the rest of the train and left in the middle of the tracks somewhere without a bathroom for four hours. Count your blessings.
Mongolia was far more exciting this time around. We had met a girl in Irkutsk whose family runs a guesthouse in Ulan Baatar (UB) so we had them pick us up at the train station, which far surpassed the taxi ride at the mercy of a haggered crone who tried to charge us $5 to go 3 kilometers two years ago. As we sat on the couch waiting to be checked in we heard some girls talking about the weirdness of their roommate who was walking around in special underwear...
"Is he from Sweden?" Jessica asked.
"How did you know that?"
Our next option for getting to Beijing by train was in four days so we opted for an overnight excursion to Terelj National Park outside of UB. It was a good idea to get out of the city because as soon as you do it actually becomes an interesting country! The small section of the park that we saw was mountainous and dotted with massive boulders of various shapes. We ate lunch in a ger and, after declining to ride the diabolical ponies who are known to seriously injure 90% of their riders, walked up a small hill and across a swinging rope and plank bridge to a buddhist temple.
Then we were off across the plains, bumping along dirt tracks and through landfills towards our lodging. I was in awe of the small collection of gers when I saw it. They had set up a farm with stables and pens for the sheep, goats and cows. As the weather was warming more and more goats were being born, filling the pens with mewing balls of adorably furry creatures. The newborns were nursed briefly and then brought inside the warmth of the ger to live their first few days in the kitchen. When we stepped through the low door they began to call to us from their makeshift pen in the corner. Our ger was actually two round rooms complete with a door between them. It takes 20 minutes to erect the structure, which if you see the elaborate framework would amaze you. They made vegetarian food for us, which was so surprisingly delicious. We watched the grandmother steam long snakes of dough in a large pot and then cut them into thin noodles which she fried with vegetables. And in the morning we had yogurt and something like clotted cream, both homemade with their fresh milk.
During the night snow fell and turned the entire world white. I ventured out as everyone else recovered from a night of cards and Mongolian vodka. In the goat pen the mother of the nomadic family beckoned me to watch the birth of a goat. As soon as the tiny white one was out and cleaned off he was learning to stand, which he did five minutes later.
I have heard a great deal from others who travelled through Mongolia and went deeper into the Gobi for week-long (or more)treks. They aren't all good stories and some of them are actually terrifying but I think it would have been nice to escape into that world for a while longer. Certainly the hospitality, kindness and fascination of the nomadic people is reason enough.
We were able to buy train tickets all the way to Beijing this time. In 2004 Kip and I spent a hellish night on a "luxury" night bus with bunk beds covered in blood and other fluids from Erlian (Chinese border) to Beijing. I vowed that I would spend $1000 to fly before I did that again, so for our budget and sanity's sake it was a good thing that the train wasn't full. We passed the day with a Mongolian mother and her blind 18 month old travelling to India for surgery. What a sweet and (mercifully) quiet baby! Before we entered the outskirts of Beijing the train made a brief stop at the Great Wall.
Along with William and Iona (our new Kiwi friends) and Irene (an Americanized Dutch girl) we hopped in a taxi at the train station and made our way into the city. After check in we had agreed to venture out for food and whatever else our bodies could handle. I suggested a vegetarian restaurant that specialized in fake peking duck. It was a hike, but our Lonely Planet (I know I should never trust them) highly recommended the place and we were all keen. An hour later we were dragging our exhausted bodies up to the door of the completely empty, partially renovated building where the restaurant used to be. We were crestfallen. But it all worked out as off of Wangfujing shopping street we found the most glorious restaurant with a picture menu and ordered enough for 20 people. Best Chinese food of my life!
Mongolia was far more exciting this time around. We had met a girl in Irkutsk whose family runs a guesthouse in Ulan Baatar (UB) so we had them pick us up at the train station, which far surpassed the taxi ride at the mercy of a haggered crone who tried to charge us $5 to go 3 kilometers two years ago. As we sat on the couch waiting to be checked in we heard some girls talking about the weirdness of their roommate who was walking around in special underwear...
"Is he from Sweden?" Jessica asked.
"How did you know that?"
Our next option for getting to Beijing by train was in four days so we opted for an overnight excursion to Terelj National Park outside of UB. It was a good idea to get out of the city because as soon as you do it actually becomes an interesting country! The small section of the park that we saw was mountainous and dotted with massive boulders of various shapes. We ate lunch in a ger and, after declining to ride the diabolical ponies who are known to seriously injure 90% of their riders, walked up a small hill and across a swinging rope and plank bridge to a buddhist temple.
Then we were off across the plains, bumping along dirt tracks and through landfills towards our lodging. I was in awe of the small collection of gers when I saw it. They had set up a farm with stables and pens for the sheep, goats and cows. As the weather was warming more and more goats were being born, filling the pens with mewing balls of adorably furry creatures. The newborns were nursed briefly and then brought inside the warmth of the ger to live their first few days in the kitchen. When we stepped through the low door they began to call to us from their makeshift pen in the corner. Our ger was actually two round rooms complete with a door between them. It takes 20 minutes to erect the structure, which if you see the elaborate framework would amaze you. They made vegetarian food for us, which was so surprisingly delicious. We watched the grandmother steam long snakes of dough in a large pot and then cut them into thin noodles which she fried with vegetables. And in the morning we had yogurt and something like clotted cream, both homemade with their fresh milk.
During the night snow fell and turned the entire world white. I ventured out as everyone else recovered from a night of cards and Mongolian vodka. In the goat pen the mother of the nomadic family beckoned me to watch the birth of a goat. As soon as the tiny white one was out and cleaned off he was learning to stand, which he did five minutes later.
I have heard a great deal from others who travelled through Mongolia and went deeper into the Gobi for week-long (or more)treks. They aren't all good stories and some of them are actually terrifying but I think it would have been nice to escape into that world for a while longer. Certainly the hospitality, kindness and fascination of the nomadic people is reason enough.
We were able to buy train tickets all the way to Beijing this time. In 2004 Kip and I spent a hellish night on a "luxury" night bus with bunk beds covered in blood and other fluids from Erlian (Chinese border) to Beijing. I vowed that I would spend $1000 to fly before I did that again, so for our budget and sanity's sake it was a good thing that the train wasn't full. We passed the day with a Mongolian mother and her blind 18 month old travelling to India for surgery. What a sweet and (mercifully) quiet baby! Before we entered the outskirts of Beijing the train made a brief stop at the Great Wall.
Along with William and Iona (our new Kiwi friends) and Irene (an Americanized Dutch girl) we hopped in a taxi at the train station and made our way into the city. After check in we had agreed to venture out for food and whatever else our bodies could handle. I suggested a vegetarian restaurant that specialized in fake peking duck. It was a hike, but our Lonely Planet (I know I should never trust them) highly recommended the place and we were all keen. An hour later we were dragging our exhausted bodies up to the door of the completely empty, partially renovated building where the restaurant used to be. We were crestfallen. But it all worked out as off of Wangfujing shopping street we found the most glorious restaurant with a picture menu and ordered enough for 20 people. Best Chinese food of my life!
6.4.07
Ice Driving
By some magical stroke of luck we had the cabin to ourselves for the full four days on the train. Even though Russia is such a hassle I adore the trains. This one was extremely nice and exceedingly comfortable. This time I was far more adventurous about getting off the train at various stops, perusing the goods and foods for sale. On one stop we saw a woman lugging three or four gigantic stuffed animals in plastics bags up to the train doors. I can only imagine the horror on the faces of the roommates when a passenger returned to their cabin with the massive creature and plopped on the bunk to share the view.
As soon as we were settled into the Downtown Hostel in Irkutsk we started planning our escape to Lake Baikal. On the last Trans-Siberian adventure Kip and I made it as far as Listvyanka, which was a cool little fishing village good for a day trip. This time I was determined to get out further. Rob, an Australian chef we had met at the hostel, was heading for Olkhon Island which we had also been considering so we agreed to travel together to keep down costs. Unfortunately, to get things even cheaper he also invited the three other people staying at the hostel; Astrid, a disinterested French woman and two Swedes, Winnie, a 21 year old martial arts student and her "friend" David, a psychopath. David ranted to us about how much he hated Russia. Russians had abused him pretty consistently mostly due to the fact that he dressed like a forty year old transvestite. He called them racist and a primitive culture. We all disagreed and he merely laughed at the suggestion that he could be mistaken. It was going to be a long journey to the lake.
We took a minibus to a town called MRS, which is right on the lake. David made comments about how uncivilized the Russian passengers on the minibus were for drinking beer in the middle of the day. From MRS we waited for our ride to Olkhon Island. Soon he was in view, racing across the lake which was frozen solid. It was such a rush speeding across the icy pass. People were ice fishing and driving around on the designated "roads". We were surrounded on all sides by towering cliffs and snow capped mountains. Once on land again it was a bumpy 45 minutes to the town. We stayed at a place called Nikita's homestead and it was so charming! The room looked onto the lake and it opened onto a large common area with a wood furnace. There were no showers, but there was a banya which is the Russian equivalent to a sauna. You hop in to the room to roast and then douse yourself with cold buckets of water or beat your skin with wet balsam branches to cool off. Amazing. The lack of showers greatly disturbed David, who complained that he had nowhere to wash his long, stringy hair. He asked to join Rob in the banya and when asked if he had appropriate attire for the experience (ie. bathing suit) David replied that he had some "special underwear" that he could use. Needless to say, the Australian bloke in Rob was insistent that they not banya together. Later we found out that he had jumped into a communal tub of water to wash himself.
It was devastating to leave after spending many tranquil moments by the silent, frozen lake. We ended our last night with a bonfire and left heavy hearted.
After returning to Irkutsk this afternoon we decided to delay our departure to Ulan Baatar for one day to give us some distance from David, who was leaving immediately. Ah, it's so quiet now...
As soon as we were settled into the Downtown Hostel in Irkutsk we started planning our escape to Lake Baikal. On the last Trans-Siberian adventure Kip and I made it as far as Listvyanka, which was a cool little fishing village good for a day trip. This time I was determined to get out further. Rob, an Australian chef we had met at the hostel, was heading for Olkhon Island which we had also been considering so we agreed to travel together to keep down costs. Unfortunately, to get things even cheaper he also invited the three other people staying at the hostel; Astrid, a disinterested French woman and two Swedes, Winnie, a 21 year old martial arts student and her "friend" David, a psychopath. David ranted to us about how much he hated Russia. Russians had abused him pretty consistently mostly due to the fact that he dressed like a forty year old transvestite. He called them racist and a primitive culture. We all disagreed and he merely laughed at the suggestion that he could be mistaken. It was going to be a long journey to the lake.
We took a minibus to a town called MRS, which is right on the lake. David made comments about how uncivilized the Russian passengers on the minibus were for drinking beer in the middle of the day. From MRS we waited for our ride to Olkhon Island. Soon he was in view, racing across the lake which was frozen solid. It was such a rush speeding across the icy pass. People were ice fishing and driving around on the designated "roads". We were surrounded on all sides by towering cliffs and snow capped mountains. Once on land again it was a bumpy 45 minutes to the town. We stayed at a place called Nikita's homestead and it was so charming! The room looked onto the lake and it opened onto a large common area with a wood furnace. There were no showers, but there was a banya which is the Russian equivalent to a sauna. You hop in to the room to roast and then douse yourself with cold buckets of water or beat your skin with wet balsam branches to cool off. Amazing. The lack of showers greatly disturbed David, who complained that he had nowhere to wash his long, stringy hair. He asked to join Rob in the banya and when asked if he had appropriate attire for the experience (ie. bathing suit) David replied that he had some "special underwear" that he could use. Needless to say, the Australian bloke in Rob was insistent that they not banya together. Later we found out that he had jumped into a communal tub of water to wash himself.
It was devastating to leave after spending many tranquil moments by the silent, frozen lake. We ended our last night with a bonfire and left heavy hearted.
After returning to Irkutsk this afternoon we decided to delay our departure to Ulan Baatar for one day to give us some distance from David, who was leaving immediately. Ah, it's so quiet now...
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