Two Nights in Hanoi

As I mentioned in the last post, our first priority was lunch. Mr Son gave us some tips but recommended a restaurant called Madam Hien on Cham Can, not too far from the hotel.

Armed with our Hanoi street map we negotiated the tight streets of the Old Quarter, getting to grips quickly on the smaller roads at learning to cross them - without being wiped out.

After walking down what can only be described as the street of a hundred motorbike repair shops, we hung a left and were there.

This French Colonial property, once the Spanish embassy is the second project of French chef Didier Corlou, who has managed to fuse Vietnamese and French food seamlessly, sadly it was fully booked when we arrived. We were advised to give them thirty minutes so we ventured out with my eyes glued to the street map. To be honest, the old part of town is easy to navigate. We completed a small recce of things to do the next day and headed back.

The wait for the food was worth it, my highlight being the duck in orange, it fell off the bone and melted in the mouth and at just under £30 for two with wine, beer and coffee; a great value three course set lunch, just a pity we couldn't sit in the courtyard due to the rain. Now for a siesta before tackling the streets at night.

Our tour guide, Mr Son had gone off duty when we came down to reception. I was hankering for some premier league footie, it being Saturday and all that. His stand in tried but failed to find us a bar that may have been showing some but pointed us in the general direction of some other places.

After negotiating some almost sacrificial junctions we came across a lively area of town just off the night market. Little shop fronts bars were doing a great trade with locals and tourists all sat outside on little stools drinking and eating. We found a bar called the Green Pepper where you could get a beer for just under 80p. It wasn't a traditional Bia Hoi hangout but it did have Everton v Arsenal showing, followed by Palace v Leicester - what a result. The atmosphere amongst locals (who were going through shelled peanuts like they were going out of fashion) and tourists was electric with never an ounce of trouble, why can't Britain be like that on a Saturday night? 

We eventually finished off in The Long Bar, near to our hotel and looking out onto the Hanoi version of Picadilly Circus. Two drinks and free entertainment finished off the evening - well, watching a balloon seller standing in the middle of maniacle traffic was entertaining to us!

The following morning we made tracks to the Army museum where we learnt how cruel the French had been to the Vietnamese and that they managed to capture lots of kit and equipment from the Americans.

After a long lunch in a small bistro just off Hoan Kiem lake we made our way to the Maison Centrale or, The Hanoi Hilton as captured American airmen nicknamed it. A notorious prison, built by the French, we learned of their inhumanity towards the Vietnamese they incarcerated there during their occupation of the country. It was interesting the way they portrayed their own capture and imprisonment of American service personnel. Were the photos of detainees celebrating Christmas and playing basketball staged or real? I think the visit throws up more questions than answers.

That evening we just ventured as far as a corner eatery called Little Hanoi, just a stride down Hang Bong. Baguettes and fries were the order of the day before retiring early. The next morning we were off to Ha Long Bay.

Madam Hien - classy colonial joint!

We sat inside - didn't fancy squatting on a stool. (Green Pepper)

The locals party until midnight. Then, the police break it up.

The Long Bar - very Parissien.

A balloon seller risks her life 

Not a nice way to be incarcerated by the French.

Woe betide if you really did something wrong.

This is why you can't walk on the pavements

Good morning Vietnam!

Our taxi was booked for 6.30am, quite a jolt to the system. I was feeling a bit sick so skipped any breakfast in the hotel. It was only a 15min drive out to the airport, brand new and very efficient. Like any other big operation without the hassle.

The plane was twin propped with leather seats, you even got a small snack and coffee for this one hour service to Hanoi, my sickness pills now kicking in.

Takeoff was smooth and soon we were heading north east. What awaited us when we dropped out of the clouds was disappointing - rain; the first we'd seen since leaving England. It was very humid though as we trooped down the stairs off the aircraft so the air conditioning was welcome as we entered the terminal off the shuttle bus. It was an ultra modern building and operation, the Vietnamese have obviously been busy these past few years.

There was a fairly long wait to go through immigration as we joined the queue for FOREIGNERS but no hassle once it was your turn. There wasn't a requirement to buy a visa but the 15 day stamp we were given in the passport meant we would have to reasses our agenda in Vietnam. Once through and baggage claimed (quickly) our next priority was money.

The ATM's in the arrival hall were a nightmare as some of them had run out of money. Others didn't work with one of my cards and, as we found out later, that bank stopped the card despite me informing them where I was. Eventually we found another set of machines and managed to draw out 2 million dong - we were rich! Well £62.75 rich. Next priority was a taxi but even though the airport was modern it looked like the usual scrum for transport outside.

It worked in our favour that we'd had to search for a cash machine as our little wander had taken us near to the official tourist information centre. Efficient women in traditional costumes guided us through the taxi booking process, reminding us it was safer booking through them because of the amount of scam taxis operating out of the airport. We then had a stroke of luck.

One of the advisors was being given a lift into Hanoi after her shift. Following her out we were guided into an air conditioned mini van with leather chairs, tv and mini bar. Our half hour drive into the city was much smoother and luxurious - thanks a lot to the tourist info staff.

The drive at first was incident free as we were whisked in on the motorway. Our first impressions were of the greenery from all the crops and rice paddies as water buffalo grazed and drank in the humid and damp fields. The so far smooth ride came to a halt when we drove off into the suburbs, suddenly we came to a halt.

It seemed every bus, car, taxi and motor scooter was heading in the same direction. Those that weren't were cutting across us making it impossible to attain any progress. Somehow though we did start to edge forward through the roads flanked by grey, damp, miserable looking houses and businesses. Hanoi looked at this stage, an ugly city.

Finally we entered the Old Quarter where the French influence of architecture and street design smacked you firmly in the face, as did the gridlocked traffic. How on earth would we get across those streets?

Our hotel was the Royal Palace on Hang Bong Rd, right on a busy intersection, first mission, get across the street with all our bags to the lobby. That achieved we were greeted by Mr Son the hotel manager. He welcomed us and within minutes we had a welcoming cup of coffee in our hands and somehow he had managed to book us two days on a Ha Long Bay cruise, arrange our train ticket for Da Nang three days later and issue us the all important wi-fi code, what a man! He escorted us to our sixth floor room and left us to our own devices.

The rooms and general look of the place can be described as tired and faded but the place makes up for it in the friendliness and efficiency of all the staff. The view down from our room to the almost carnage down below is worth the tariff but the windows remained closed to keep out the incessant noise of the tooting horns.

Our plans were flexible now that Mr Son had done all the donkey work regarding our cruise and train journey. The only priority we had now was lunch and the all important survival lesson on the streets of Hanoi.

Survival lessons are compulsory when learning how to cross these roads.

Hanoi chic - military clothing for the whole family.

A new one to the list.

A couple of days in Luang Prabang

The minivan edged its way round the tight streets of this provincial Lao town, very French in its appearance and at 5pm, still very hot. We were the last people to be dropped off and were pointed in the direction of a side street.

It seems this town has seen an upsurge in its tourist trade since being made a UNESCO heritage town. Every square inch seems to have been built on to provide more hotels. I counted at least eight small guest houses before we eventually reached ours - The Nacknoy Lanexang.

We were greeted in what has now become traditional style, cold towels and drinks being offered and then a briefing on what sights are on offer. We weren't all that bothered about tours to caves or waterfalls and the procession of monks at 6am was just a bit too early, and, how many more temples did we want to see? No, our plan was to chill and book a flight to Hanoi.

We checked out a nearby travel agent and discovered there was a flight out on the Saturday morning (19th March). We would book it the following morning. So, not venturing too far we found a restaurant called the Lao Blossom on Main Street where I ate amongst other things Buffalo Sausage. It was early to bed again in another very clean and comfortable room.

The next morning we went in search of a booking office for a £20 a head dinner cruise we had seen advertised in the travel agent. The map on the company flyer was very vague so we headed down to the Mekong promenade and started our exploration. 

Having been badgered by every boat and Tuk Tuk owner wanting to take us on an excursion we stopped for a coffee. Minding our own business the peace was shattered by our friends off the boat trip, Ted and Dianne. Ted shouting a loud hello, I mentioned to him he looked like he was out for a game of golf. The electric trolley they were being driven in was provided by their hotel but they were, in fact, looking for another one with a pool. 

Pleasantries over we set off to look for this elusive booking office. It turned out to be one man and an advertising board. He wrote down our names and told us to be back at 5pm.

Our plan was to head back for town, we used our now honed in sense of direction and found ourselves on a street that could easily have been mistaken for one out of France. It was tree lined with shutters on most properties. Art galleries, boutiques, coffee houses and restaurants dominated the frontage as monks mingled with the tourists with the odd temple here and there reminding you that yes, you were in SE Asia. We ate lovely French baguettes and fries in the Lao Blossom before that all important siesta.

We married up with the Nava of Mekong at 5pm, walked down another steep embankment and joined other tourists plus a group of South Koreans for our evening cruise. It was to say the least a great way to pass two hours at sunset.

All of us on board managed to get spectacular photos of the sun going down over the river, eat a very tasty Laos set meal and watched traditional dancing accompanied by two accomplished percussionists (aged about twelve). A perfect end to a day.

We finished the night off with drinks in the Indigo House, a boutique hotel on Main Street where at sunset you can ascend to the top floor in the lift to watch the sun go down over the river. It's situated outside the towns famous night market.

An early night beckoned again before an early start for the airport in the morning.

Our guest house

The French street

Just to remind us we were in Lao

You know you're getting old when the monks look this young

The Nava of Mekong

A spectacular sunset - so Apocalypse Now!

The house band.

Traditional Lao dancing.

Slow boat to Laos - part 2 and hello Luang Prabang

Our room at the lodge was clean and comfortable with a great view over the river. We shared a balcony with the French couple off the boat (no rules there then!) and after some "entente cordiale" it was SSS then down to the town, we were starving.

Okay, town may be a bit of an understatement. A series of shops, restaurants and lodges clinging to a hill might be more near to the mark. We walked up the hill, turned round (after buying a beer from a woman with a fridge on her front porch) and walked back down again. 

Whilst looking at the menu in the Sabaidee restaurant our posh Aussie friends (cough...splutter!!) Ted and Dianne were coming out, they had a meal booked in their hotel and had just come along for a drink. They said the food looked good so we gave it a go.

Nigel and Debbie from Leeds were seated and looking at the home made, hand written menu booklet, we ordered and Lynn was ecstatic - they had wine - Weyhay!! The food was fine, spring rolls to start and I had a marianated pork steak and home made fries. I'd smelled the BBQ aroma coming from the street vendors on arriving and caved in.

At one point we had a power cut, something the staff took in their stride (after blaming the Chinese) and soon enough the candles were out. They didn't even break the sequence of cooking as the sound of metal spoon on wok could be heard throughout the little interlude. 

Non of the women were brave enough to go to the toilet, it was down a set of stairs that were so steep Health and safety in England would have had a field day shutting the place down. It was also a squatter, and unisex. I only went for the entertainment value. That, and the copious amount of Beer Lao I drank.

The next morning we woke up to a misty start. There was to be a bonus though, an elephant was spotted across on the other bank with its keeper, us and the French were snapping away for fun.

It was easier going downhill with the bags and soon we were on our way again on a very cool morning.

That was to be a blessed relief when we stopped off at another village where after another trek up the steep embankment we came across a scene that Lynn loved - people selling things.

The people of this settlement made scarves on old ancient wooden weaving machines, everyone was out selling them - Lynn could not resist. Some of the townsfolk were distilling whiskey made from sticky rice; it was lethal and not for the faint hearted.

On these occasions you feel you'd love to buy something from everyone, the first village included. You obviously can't and you leave feeling a bit sorry for them - perhaps their lives are fine and it's us that have all the problems in the world (philosophy over - back to the river).

One last stop off was a set of caves that housed thousands of Buddhas, offered by the locals to bring luck. It was a 277 step treck to the top. Lynn, Dianne and Ted decided to sit this one out and break open the beer, wished I'd joined them.

Approaching the pier on the outskirts of Luang Prabang one thing was obvious, it would be another bloody climb to get to the minivans that waited for us. Eventually we were all shepherded onto vans and driven into town to our hotels, it was about 5pm and still very hot - another cold beer was definitely required.

Great marketing.

Great menus!

Sunrise over Pak Bang

A grey and cold start to the day

Lynn couldn't resist a bit of retail therapy.

Proper craft work.

A typical village house

The kids will play in anything

Stunning scenery

Slow boat to Laos

The day had finally arrived when we said goodbye to Thailand and our great hosts at the Days Waterfront Hotel, we were also out of our comfort zone of a two week holiday - everything from this day, for us, was new territory.

Our fellow shipmates boarded the van with us and we were driven the 6 miles to the Thailand Immigration building. That formality completed we proceeded to the Laos side on another bus, crossing the Mekong and approaching the Lao border. 

I'm not saying it was like the film "Bridge of Spies" but there is always something daunting about entering a communist country. (We've crossed into East Berlin a few times through Checkpoint Charlie, Lynn and me).

There was a sence of mystery about the officials in Soviet style uniforms, handing over all documents and paying the specified $35 to get in. What it did manage to achieve was pulling our group of complete strangers together as we waited for beuracracy to hurry along. Our motley crew was assembled to drive round to the pier almost opposite Chiang Khong on the Lao side of the river. Aussies, Americans and French plus a smattering of Brits made up our group with one lone Swiss.

We were introduced to our guide, Khamlar, a Lao and as it turned out, very knowledgeable. Welcome drinks and ice cold towels were handed out to all on boarding and soon we were underway on the Nagi of Mekong.

The Nagi was long and narrow, similar to a barge but a bit wider in berth. Itwas equiped with a kitchen and small dining area and we all sat at seats facing each other with tables in the middle - sort of British Rail on water.

Friendships were soon started up and in no time we were all having a good laugh and joke about most things that we had in common. It sort of reminded me of an Agatha Christie novel - Murder on the Mekong, perhaps. It was the vicar that did it!

Our first port of call was to a hill tribe. Nothing at all like the one Lynn and I visited in Chiang Khong, these people had nothing. It was similar to our last village though, we all had a steep climb to negotiate before seeing the village. The children had all rushed down to greet us hoping we'd buy their home made bracelets off them. It was stiflingly hot, I don't believe westerners could live in these conditions for a long time.

The main work for the men in these villages is cutting the teak trees that grow on the steep slopes of the Mekong valley. The women stay at home looking after the children. Only two kids per family can go to school, it's too expensive to send more. Water is provided by UNICEF who have installed stand pipes. They do have electricity and some have a satellite dish to provide entertainment however a man amongst this Mung tribe can have two wives, what more entertainment to you need?

Back on the boat we had lunch, typical Lao fayre but welcome after our exertions up and down the river bank. The cook was the Captain's wife, their son also worked on the boat - they all lived on it as well.

We were all now into this cruising malarkey and took in the views whilst lazily sitting around, having the occasional beer and hanging on as we approached various rapids. The captain's wife saying prayers and throwing rice into the water to appease the Gods. The Meekong was low at this time of year, so the skipper did a great job steering us up river, it's sides becoming steeper and almost like the set of "Apocalypse Now" as we approached our overnight stop of Pak Bang.

We dropped off two of the Aussies, Ted and Dianne at a posher hotel than ours, they had sussed it all out beforehand and knew the score. The rest of us disembarked at the public jetty, daunted at the thought of another climb up to the village and in my case gasping for a cold beer. Led by our guide we assembled at reception, (a small hut), were given more welcome drinks and cold towels then dispersed to our rooms in the Mekong Riverside Lodge.

Sunrise over Laos on our last morning in Thailand for a while

I risked deportation taking this!!

All aboard the Skylark, "mind how you go madam."

I think the woman in the hat is the murderer?

The basic look of the village.

Everyone mucks in with the baby sitting

Our guide, Khamlar.

Thanks to UNICEF, these kids get clean water.

Hill tribes - Pub Crawls and a singing Tuk Tuk driver.

Don't let the tittle of this post put you off - stay with me on this, all will be revealed.

Our hosts at the charming and immaculately clean establishment were Kai and his wife, we called them Mr & Mrs Day.

They both spoke excellent English and guided us through our visa application for our onward trip to Laos. All of us were greeted with cold drinks and snacks including Pon and Song who by now we're checking out the enemy over the river through the hotel telescope.

After wishing them a fond farewell we went out to explore the Main Street taking lunch at a basic pavement cafe that doubled up as a greengrocer shop. The 7/11 was next door so we stocked up on money and snacks, made our way back and spent the afternoon sat on our balcony watching the river life go by - bliss.

That evening we ate in a recommended eatery, The Jam House, where once again you watched your food being cooked. I made the error of mentioning Lynn liked it spicey - much too hot for our delicate western mouths. It was still a good meal though.

After that lip-blistering experience we went off to find the English pub we had seen advertised all over town, Hub Pub. Down a dimly lit side road the lights shone out onto the street, this was it then, Shangrila and possibly Brit beer and maybe that elusive glass of wine for Lynn. We were to be disappointed on both counts as there weren't even the hoards of other backpackers that are depicted on the posters. All that greeted us were two guys and a barmaid, still they got talking to us straight away and offered us the wireless keyboard. This, we found, was to enable you to choose the music off You Tube - very modern concept for this neck of the woods.

The guys ordered food, fish and chips - what else, and served by another young girl. So, there were more of them out the back. Finally the surealty kicked in when we checked out our selfie and noticed they still had Christmas decorations hanging from the ceiling. I left them with a line of graffiti - "Come on Morecambe" and we left to possibly find a better watering hole - we didn't.

On the Main Street is Rin's World Bar (although I don't believe the apostrophe was used on the sign). It's owned by a spaced out Belgium guy called, appropriately, Rin! I don't know what he's a throwback from, possibly kicked out of his country, maybe. Anyway, he was friendly enough even to the extent of finding out what all the commotion was with Lynn. She had in fact pulled off the door handle to the toilet, okay, the hole in the ground. I had to stand guard, Rin just shrugged.

The beer was fine, no wine for Lynn though. She had to put up with the dodgiest cocktails ever made by the willing but useless barkeeps (staff training obviously isn't on Rin's list of business priorities). We showed willing and retired to the outside chairs where Rin was holding court with other ex-pat drinkers, not our scene, we made our excuses and left.

Heading back to the hotel we found another bar, the Chiangroy, at last somewhere that looked half decent. No wine for Lynn but the best pina colada she had tasted for a while and bonus, ice cold bottled beer served in one of those insulating covers - we'd found the perfect watering hole at last. The only bad thing going for it was the owner was a Liverpool fan and the back room was bedecked in memorabilia from those loveable scouse rouges - you can't win em all!

Next day (Tuesday 15th) the hotel arranged for us to visit a hill village about 5 miles away. Our Tuk Tuk arrived and off we went out into the countryside with Thai music blaring at us from a speaker - Lynn not too amused. He did well to get the vehicle up some quite steep hills to the village of Thung Nanoi, he dropped us off and pointed up a steep hill and gestured for us to walk up.

Halfway up it became apparent it was going to be difficult. Local village people viewed us with curiosity as this is not yet on any tourist trail and Kai only sends a few visitors to experience it. The view however made all the huffing and puffing worthwhile - spectacular to say the least and eventually we reached the summit to come across the village school. 

We were made very welcome by the teachers who seemed to be having a break and were introduced to a young student called Fong who could speak decent English. (Well, far better than my hill village Thai). She showed us a craft lesson that was in progress and we bought some of it off her, boosting the schools coffers by £10, a lot for these people.

Once on the way back our driver broke into song, much to the amusement of the passing villagers from other settlements - you just couldn't make this up.

That evening we went for another excellent Thai meal, said goodbye to the Chiangroy and got an early night - reveille was 6.30am for the start of our journey to Laos.

Jam House kitchen

Both meals hotter than they look.

Bloody scoucers - get everywhere.

Our perfect hosts

Sorry for neglecting you!

I'm sat in our sixth floor room of the grandly named Hanoi Royal Palace Hotel. It's been a week since we last got together to relive our adventures and I feel I've neglected you: dear reader.

A lot's happened over a week as we seem to have been on the move using one form of transport or another but I'll give you a brief précis of our last seven days ( maybe you will buy my book to catch up on all the nitty gritty?)

Saturday 12th March - we didn't see that coming? Having decided to take a stroll from our hotel in Chiang Rai we somehow ended up in a shopping mall, Century Plaza. It was huge and it took us ten minutes to walk round it to find the entrance. Who'd have thought, this far in the north there would be an edifice of shiny glass and metal that paid homage to retail therapy. I could feel a massive hole opening up in my wallet as Lynn rubbed her hands with glee.

We spent a few hours in there and to be honest she didn't go too mad on the spending. The real surprise for me was the standard of fresh food being served in the food courts. We had a hot and tasty duck noodle soup, made in front of us as we sat round the servery with all the locals.

It was a taxi to get us back and we eventually seeked out what we thought was a taxi company to arrange a day trip. Just along the road from our hotel was a sign in the road offering trips to various local sights. We entered an empty roadside cafe to be greeted by Mr Pon. He immediately went into sales mode and before we knew it we had organised a day trip on the Sunday, a taxi to Chiang Khong on the Monday and our laundry to be washed - by his wife! (£4 for a big bag full)

That evening we ended up back in town trying to find a venue showing the England v Wales rugby game - we couldn't find one. We did however watch the clock tower performance again, this time whilst sat at a pavement cafe eating some excellent Thai food.

Sunday morning, not too early and Mr Pon with his driver Mr Song wander into the breakfast room of our hotel. We finish up and are taken on our excursion by the young Song who spends most of the time talking into one of those ear piece things that all taxi drivers seem to have.

The White Temple was spectacular to say the least, basically a project of a famous Thai artist, Arjan Chalermchai Kostipat ( Google him). He wanted to build the most beautiful temple in the world and to show the glory of modern Thai Buddist arts - thumbs up for achieving that then.

We continued with a look at an ancient rural spiritual site the Black House and finally a tea plantation, not a place I would normally relish visiting - how wrong I was.

As you can imagine we were high up at the plantation, the tea bush terraces spread for miles and miles. We were introduced to the various teas that are grown on Choui Fongs famous slopes and then had something to eat. There was an expansive menu of tea related food and drinks, at one point we were eating a salad of deep fried tea leaves (don't knock it till you've tried it) and I drank a green tea frappe - get me!

After an exhausting day and with a journey to undertake the following morning we ditched any ideas of going out and spent the night packing and sleeping.

On time, we were collected by both Mr Pon and Mr Song in the bosses fine 4x4 vehicle, meethinks  Mr Pon wanted a day out himself - probably to get away from the wife. Mr Song was definitely the navigator with his Google Earth Satnav system on his tablet. It took us a cross country route which gave us another insight to the rural ways of this country. Thankfully the road was not a windy and undulating as the one I'd been ill on days earlier and eventually, as they say, all roads lead to Chiang Khong.

As you approach the town there is as you can imagine an air of mystery, especially as I found out the Thais and Laos were taking pot shots at each other less than twenty years ago. 5km out and the signs for "Immigration Control" appeared then "Friendship Bridge". We would cross that a couple of days later.

If I thought our previous stop over was a "one horse town" it was apparent that Chiang Khong was a "no horse town" as we were driven through the one Main Street, Mr Song studiously checking his tablet for the correct turn off. I would be proved wrong on my initial opinion of this frontier town as we pulled up at the Day Waterfront Hotel with its stunning riverside view of Laos across the Mekong.

Duck noodle soup - delicious

The White Temple

Tea tasting

Mr Pon in yellow and his sidekick Mr Song - and us!

A great balcony view.