Louang Phabang, Laos

hurray for Laos. Friendly, laid-back, green and because they don't have an obsession with horn tooting, quiet. In fact the contrast is so great you can't believe we only flew fifty minutes to get here.
Having made it to the very touristy, but very lovely, Louanag Phabang, we found our fellow Honeymooners and they didn't let us down, Nicky was keen to shop and Lawrie was keen for an ale - the Brewster partnership was happy. Mr and Mrs Proffit also had a plan for the next day: a visit to a camp for retired logging elephants. So once the tour and tuk tuk were booked, we hit the town. The complementary rice whisky (they even have trouble giving it away apparently) and several red wines, ensured heavy heads when we met our beasts of burden.

Despite that we loved it and even the elephants seemed to enjoy themselves and they definitely appreciated their banana reward. The people we did it through are very good, their programme is ethically sound and they care for the welfare of their elis. We had never met an elephant and I for one had never understood what the fuss was about.

It turns out the fuss is the result of so many things. The ones that struck me were: they've got a donkey's sense of when there is chance of some food, they're as obedient to verbal commands as dogs (much more so than those in the Brewster household), just their presence is engaging and physically there is nothing like them, skin, ears, eyes, feet and trunks are all strangely captivating. Nicky also pointed out that the hair on the head of the young elephant was just like Lawrie's. Lawrie corrected her - the young elephant definitely had more.
The final attribute making our elephants top of the pile, was their trumpet, it would make the most seasoned Vietnamese taxi driver jealous.

After the elephants, came the temples and the dawn procession of monks, unfortunately Mrs B. was indisposed, having found a restaurant which would fail an inspection by the environmental health. boooo

VietNam the highs and lows....

After a few days in Laos reflecting (talking rubbish to each other) on Vietnam we have come up with a list of what we enjoyed most and what we enjoyed least.

Loves:
street eats and food in general - beef noodles
the energy of the place - they're on a mission and nothing's going to stop them, as a guide proudly told us 'eight percent GDP growth last year, only China better'
Vietnam's railway - especially the views, but its employment policy of a guard for every carriage deserves a mention
How the war is dealt with, it's the most important thing historically, but firmly in the past
Finally, bikes still get a look in, while the moped is king, the car doesn't rule, yet.

The lows:
pollution, city smog is bad, worse than we'd naively expected, a lot of people wear masks, the rivers are dirty and it will probably get worse before it gets better
an eye for the main chance - money rules and not just in the dealings with us touristy types, the only time it doesn't is when it's burnt at new year, and that's only to bring luck to earn more.
lots of people will get left behind in the rush for those cars
the use of the horn - their 'highway code' obviously leaves a little to be desired on this point
shopping - there was pressure for this to be a high, but it makes the lows as we spent too much. dammit.

we were thinking about doing this for Oz, but now realise it makes boring reading, so we'll spare you.

Han Oi and Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

While Hanoi is the captial, at about half the size of Saigon / HCMC, it's less frantic, less polluted and by degrees more relaxing; the forty-something, to the brash wide boy of Saigon. Although the love affair with the scooter is alive and well, there are slightly less of the brutes to wade through when you cross the road. For the keen readers of the blog (back to work you slackers) we have established there are at least three regional slang names for scooter, as well as their proper name and the major brands names which are widely used, so it turns out they are well on the way to Eskimo snow status.

There are some great Hanoi myths and mythologies in the making, the top attraction is the temple dedicated to the C14th warrior hero whose sword was swallowed by a large golden turtle in Hoan Kiem Lake (you have to love that). There is the temple in the middle of the lake and there to the left is a very large stuffed turtle (2.5ft by 4ft) which was fished out of the lake in the 70's (probably killed by the Americans), and now resides in airconditioned perpertuatity.

Having done the temples and the shops, we decided two days on a boat was required, so off to Ha Long Bay. Ha Long Bay is Bond film stuff, if 'the man with the golden gun' wasn't filmed here, my name is Nick Nack. It's got two thousand, to quote the guide 'monolithic', limestone islands. It's famous for great climbing and great falling off (you fall into the sea) and we even saw the monkeys which pester the climbers. We had top food, good weather, Australians and Mancunians for company and plenty of entertainment generated by the need to get round the ludicrous corkage charge on the boat.

We only have one appointment to keep before April and to make it we're catching a flight to Laos tomorrow, to crash Nicky and Lawrie's honeymoon. Why not.

Finally on a mundane note, why Han Oi? It turns out that while the Vietnamse now use a Roman script, they spent a good thousand years with Chinese symbols and a syllable script, so Vietnam is actually Viet Nam and Hanoi is Han Oi, a top bit of info to discover on your last day in a country.

The re-unification express...... Vietnam

Or not so express. We decided it would be more fun to travel by train, rather than bus or plane, it takes a wee bit longer, but it appealed to the romantic in us. The one train line up the country links Ho Chi Minh with Hanoi and it you do it non-stop takes thirty hours, we decided to stop half-way. We left Ho Chi Minh on the 8pm sleeper, arriving in Da Nang 16 hours later at a very civilised midday. The Vietnamese couple in our cabin looked very unimpressed with us, but were all smiles by the morning - obviously no snoring from Mrs B. then.

Once at our destination and the customary taxi driver haggling dealt with, we mouched to what has to be Vietnam's most traveller/tourist focused/friendly spot - Hoi An - lots of good shopping and tailors (erica), as well as restored houses and temples (edward), all of which meant us and our money were parted reguarly.

After what felt like a week and several tailored tops, I managed to drag Erica out of the shops so we could head to Hue, our next stop and only three hours away. Hue was the Imperial Capital and those, until recently unknown by us, Vietnamese Emperors did not want to be outdone by the Chinese so built their own version of the forbidden city on Perfume River.

Unfortunatley the citadel was the site of a conflagaration with the Americans and the result was some of best buildings were levelled. Despite this it's a top history geek spot and fairly free of shops. Tonight we're on for the next fifteen hour leg of the reunification express. We've got the bottom two bunks in the cabin this time...... which in case you're wondering is good news.

Keep-snakes, rubber, dong, tunnels and mopeds.... Vietnam

So to Vietnam. We flew into Ho Chi Minh/Saigon from Singapore on Valentines day, the eighteen hours of travel, the taxi haggling and the smog at sunset made for a romantic day.
HCM has all the contrasts you'd expect from a city in Asia, wealth and poverty at every turn, if not in equal measure and collosal amounts of energy, sitting alongside plenty of lethargy.
It turns out the Vietnamese love their scooters, it's hard to imagine how many there are, but if you're been on the Isle of Wight for an August bank holiday and the annual vespa club thingy, you've got some sense of it, everyone uses scooters, to do everything. We suspect there must be as many words for scooter as the eskimos have for snow.

It's hard to believe we've only been here four days, it's so different from Oz and NZ. we've had plenty of tip top smiles, and not all of them have faded when we've said 'no thank you'. We've enjoyed being Dong millionaires, US$100 gets you 1.5million dong, that's a lot of Dong. It's all much more Chinese than we expected, the temples, the food and the people.

Thirty years on, the war still feels fresh, we visited the war remnants museum, damning on Agent Orange and conflict in general and we've crawled through Vietcong tunnels north-west of Saigon, now surrounded by very ordered Rubber plantations. All in all a good intro to South-East Asia.

Two key historical facts learned by Erica so far (never my top subject but . . .)
A) Apparently Viet Nam is a communist country (figured out two days in)
B) when the Germans were here (whenever that was) they planted cotton instead of rice which turned out to be a grave mistake as, according to our tourguide, 'everyone died by the hungries'.

What about the keep-snakes? A tourist top seller apparently, pickled snakes in rice-wine bottles, not keep-sakes, but keep-snakes.... boom boom.

Hawke's Bay and Taupo, NZ

Lucky us. We get to go back to Hawke's Bay and the mighty Waipuk, it's warmer and considerably drier than Sydney, as well as a tip-top reprieve from travels.
It's meant picnics, lunches in various lovely spots, Ballantyne family activities, the Waipuk gang and thanks to Nicky and Lawrie's wedding at TeAwa lots of the Auckland lot.
The wedding was beautiful, under the trees at TeAwa, fantastic food and vino; the dancing hit all those cheesy spots so beloved of kiwis everywhere, with the linen jacket playing a surprisingly prominent role. This was followed by all sorts of trouble in Havelock North till the early hours, with surprising journey's etc.
The Motel man won the line of the following day, once we'd missed check-out by two hours, he shouted in the gruffest voice through the door "are you people staying another night?"
Good morning to you too, you miserable git.
Top day-after lunch as well - may now have to get a fire heated bath in the back garden, or a section in the TukiTuki valley (spare mil anyone?). Then if that wasn't enough, a gourmet lunch with the girls in Waipuk, well actually Waipawa to be precise, but it's nearly the same thing. More kids than grown-ups (counting the unemployed loafing brewsters as children), all good, it made Mrs Brewster a little homesick though.
We are now up in Taupo with Erica's parents, sunny lake swims, further scrabble defeats and the last chance to drink a good kiwi beer for a while. We then head to Auckland for dinner at Scotty's bar, Suite (or is that sweet) and fly to Ho Chi Minh, via Singapore early on Valentine's day, malaria pills in hand.

Sydders - part two (must be read second) Oz

When we woke up we had one of those twice-yearly hangovers that reminds you (if all the twenty-somethings weren't enough) we are nearer 35 than 25. The discovery of our poor mental state following our first night on the town in a month was only matched by our discovery that when they said 'Boutique' hotel, they were talking from the perspective of a roach. It wasn't quite a flea-pit, but it was as near as we expected to get in this hemisphere.

The poor outlook was compounded as Sydney then experienced the wettest 48 hours in five, or was it eight, years? As representatives of two great island nations well used to the odd splash of rain we of course ventured out - although we may have done it a day later than we'd planned. When we did re-engage, it was so wet Bondi Beach looked and felt like St Ives, something so improbable, it's no wonder nobody has spotted it before.

The Manley ferry could have been at sea for all you could see of the Harbour shore and the Bob Dylan film we saw at the cinema on recovery Sunday required something we were very short on, not dry, clean clothing, but mental agility. We pulled through, saw the sights, enjoyed dragons on Chinese New Year and ate well.

By day four we were fully recovered and ready to catch our flight to Auckland..... Unfortunately while we were ready our plane was not, after 3.5 hours on the tarmac the Chileans gave up - what have the Chileans got to do with it? We were trying to fly Lan Chile - Pepe we must have words. Ten hours late Qantas delivered us to the right country (Australian customs having confiscated the wine), if not the correct destination.

Our second Sydney report brings some balance to the blog, after all not everything can go your way for a full five weeks.

Sydders part one, Oz

Sydney, it's a big place, hard to sum up, so we've decided on two posts and after you've read the second hopefully you'll agree it's deserved. Most of you have been there and you know it's brash, sunny and fun, but as we're under-employed, we thought we'd bore you anyway.

You arrive at Central Station, which feels like Clapham Junction, (I think it's the bricks, they're very Wandsworth) anyway that's where comparison with the South London train terminus from hell ends. Central is free of glum officials, congestion, taxi queues and the grime you get at most stations.

Once you've dumped the bags at the 'Boutique' hotel on Oxford street you got online for half-price, you think, it's Saturday you must go to Paddington Markets. Paddington blends the best of Portello and Spitalfields, offering good coffee and avoiding the tacky. The sun is shining, the sky is blue and when you finally make it to the harbour, it's as good as you remember, which is nice.

At this point it's fortunate you know Kylie and her man Kelvin, and they've got a boat, to be clear that's Erica's school friend Kylie, not the pop diva. Their boat is moored in Darling Harbour, there is vino, good Aussie beer and the fish restaurant delivers to the boat. The sun goes down, night advances and before you know it, you're at the point when the small hours are no longer so small.... you head for bed in that trendy part of town, thinking Sydney is a very fine place indeed.

Brisbane and the Hunter Valley, OZ

We spent two days in Brisbane, where everyone from neighbours moves. Bigger than you'd think, but smaller than it looks. Our highlights were the river, a Warhol exhibition and dinner with Erica's cousin Philippa, her husband Kane and their kids. Kane served up five different types of beer and finally cracked the 'Australian Beer Problem' by presenting two that were drinkable - for me Australia is famous for (bad) beer. These two fine ales showed all is not lost.

From Brisie we headed to just north of Sydney to stay with Phillipa's mum Heather and her husband Alex. We fared poorly on the board game front, with Erica going down to her Aunt at Scrabble in a big way and my Chess brain being repeatedly exposed.
And so to a day in the Hunter Valley, peaceful, full of vineyards (apparently several hundred) and no sign of either of us being the designated driver (thank you Heather). The HV is world famous in Australia for it's Semillon, we probably tasted twenty different types, it's also known for its Shiraz, another fifteen or so; it turns out it's not bad at dessert wine and sparkling Shiraz! All in all we took a good a look at six vineyards, stretching their capacity to offer 'free tastings' to the limit, it turns out there isn't one, but somehow we managed to buy five bottles of this or that.

Next stop Oxford Street, Sydders....