Hoi An

Vietnam is a long thin country with alot of coastline. What makes Vietnam's coastline so beautiful is that it is surrounded by mountains. Which also makes the driving here so scenic - as anyone who watches Top Gear knows. Unfortunately photos do not do the place justice. I had a long drive (13hours) to reach my next stop of Hoi An. The drive was at night too, so all I saw was blinding street lights.

Hoi An is an old historic port town that now has Unesco status to try and preserve it. As you may have guessed, what with it being an ex port, not only is it 3km away from the beach but it sits on the banks of a might river. A number of small villagers live on islands in the river. The silting up of the port 100 years ago stopped the town from developing so now thousands of tourists flock here to take in the historical vibe. It is the most touristy place I have been in Vietnam and prices certainly reflect that. I have been managing to stay in small guesthouses for the most part - but prices in Hoi An are double those elsewhere, so I had no other choice but a dorm bed. There is normally a choice of hostels - the party one (catering for 18 - 25year olds) and the other one - the one I normally go for. Except in Hoi An there was no other one, there was only the one hostel. And whilst it was a lovely building, well maintained, lovely staff, very clean, there was no escaping that half of its guests were totally obnoxious and you really wouldn't want to be sharing a dorm room with them. Luckily for two out of my three nights there, I had good room mates. The third night is another story...

I spent a couple of very pleasant days cycling around the city and out to the beach. Cycling around the river islands, I passed through paddy fields and people fishing, children chasing water buffalo - it was a completely different way of life - even more surreal when you realise these people are only 10 minutes away from package holiday central. I didn't linger on the beach, having arrived from another beach destination, but I did paddle along the shoreline. As well as the buildings, people come to Hoi An to eat and to get clothes made. Every second building is a clothes shop touting for business. Whilst a surprising number of backpackers did go and have a suit / dress / coat made, I had no desire for either a suit or a winter coat. the coats looked lovely but they were not waterproof - not much good for Yorkshire winters (or summers for that!) I did however have a desire to taste some of the local food.

I had a couple of local delicacies, fried wontons with vegetable toppings, caramelized fish baked in a clay pot, a thin rice pancake stuffed with spring onions and herbs. I also had the best fish and chips dish ever (even beats Cape Town). Fresh basa fillets coated in breadcrumbs, herbs, lemongrass together with chips and a lime mayonnaise. Simply wondrous. When I wasn’t eating I was mainly watching the world go by. Hoi An has old links to Japan, the bridge I am standing in front off is one of Hoi Ans most visited sites – the old covered Japanese Bridge. In fact whilst I was there, there was an Hoi An Japanese cultural festival going on. There were stages set up where Japanese bands were performing, I saw a number of Samurai demonstrations and women dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. There was alot of Japanese tourists and a fair number of Japanese film crews! There were also demonstrations of Hoi An culture and I was able to walk around an embroidery school and watch a chap carve figures out of bamboo root. It wasn’t quiet though, the festival had tripled the usual large amounts of visitors so trying to visit the old houses was out of the question.

Instead I took a trip out of Hoi An to the site of My Son (pronounced Me Sun). This was once the world’s major site for ancient Cham temples. I say once because the Americans managed to bomb the majority out of existence – they only stopped when a notable professor wrote to Nixon demanding they stop the bombing – surprisingly they did! These Cham temples are very similar to the Khmer temples at Angkor but not quite as ornate. Mr Dung (pronounced Young) our guide was really funny, he wasn’t that upset with the Americans for bombing all the temples but he was furious with the French, who after “discovering” the temples in the late 1800’s had come back and removed all the heads from the statues. They are all now in the Louvre. Everytime we passed a statue, he pointed to the (replica) head and shouted “real one in France!” I spent a very enjoyable morning at My Son, the only downside being that humidity reached 100%. This was not pleasant. Even the locals were suffering. My Dung was walking around saying “too hot, too hot”

Time is very quickly running out in Vietnam. I am having to seriously reassess my options. Even though I have only been spending 3 nights in one place it looks as if I will not be able to fit in all the sights I wanted to see. I am moving on to the next city of Hue (pronounced Way) and here I will have to make some final decisions.

Beaches to mountains to beaches again

I left the hustle and bustle of the giant metropolis Saigon and made my way 5 hours northwards to the tiny coastal town of Mui Ne. There is a small beach here but between the months of November and March this place is overrun with Kitesurfers. Mui Ne has its own micro climate and is incredibly windy - making it an ideal spot to learn how to kitesurf (think windsurfing sails attached to a small beach buggy). At $100 for a two hour lesson it is not the cheapest sport either - unfortunately I was there at the wrong time so I did not get to witness any kitesurfing competitions. The micro climate is also responsible for Mui Ne's other main attraction - sand dunes and strange rock formations. I took a walk down the "fairy stream" - a tiny stream that runs between strange wind chiseled white and orange rocks. The name comes from the fact the rocks look magical rather than it being the home of mythological creatures. It really was a beautiful place, after half an hours walk the stream ends at a waterfall and the magical rocks change back into being normal rocks again.

I took one of the many jeep tours that operate in the area to visit the sand dunes. They have two different types of dunes here, white dunes which are fine, white sand and cover a larger area and the smaller red dunes which are made up of the coarser, dirtier red sand. All the jeep tours arrive at the same time, so the place was full of tourists - either Asian or Russian. Mui Ne has alot of Russian visitors to the point where alot of the signs were in Russian. The Russian tourists I met here were very stereotypical, ie wearing awful garish and very inappropriate clothing and very rude. They also had a lovely line in tattoos. One bloke had a scorpion right in the middle of his chest - it looked like a bulls-eye. The Asian tourists (Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino) are a very excitable bunch who have to have a photo of themselves stood in front of everything (and I mean everything) either whilst holding up two V for victory signs or whilst jumping in the air. Trying to get a photo of a landmark at these times is practically impossible. I have visited a few sand dunes world wide and whilst the dunes here are not particularity big, they were beautiful and impressive. I was certainly in the minority as the majority of the Asian tourist had never seen dunes before and there were shrieking in delight! Here you could rent dunes buggys for 15 minutes and hurl yourself over the edge. I chose the much more sedate old fashioned method of walking to the top. The red dunes were not as pretty to look at and you certainly couldn't buggy over them - but enterprising children did try and sell you boards so you could sand board down them. Unfortunately these did not work at all.. The most I saw anybody move was about 30cm before they came to a crashing halt.

There was not much else to do in Mui Ne apart from eating the rather excellent hummus I found in one restaurant, so I moved in land to the mountain town of Da Lat. All of S.E Asia has been hot, even in the midst of the rain, it is still hot. Humidity is between 80 - 100 percent and 30 degrees has been the average temperature, but with the humidity it feels so much hotter. Imagine my surprise then, when as we pull up in Da Lat all the locals are wearing puffer jackets and fleeces. By Vietnam standards, Da Lat is cold, by English standards it is nice warm weather. It is around 20 degrees - even for me a puffer jacket would have been a step too far.

Alot of outdoor activities are based here, mountain biking, trekking and the option I chose, canyoning. Canyoning typically involves trekking to the bottom of a gorge, jumping of ledges into the water, trekking through the water - the highlight usually being abseiling down waterfalls. The trek down to the river was arduous, my legs were scratched to ribbons by the forest fauna, we were close - I could hear the sound of the river. Then i heard another sound - that of people and in particular a small child. We had to walk across a branch to cross a small stream, then we barged our way through another copse of trees - I could not believe my eyes. We were not in the middle of nowhere. The long descent down had brought us out... next to a cable car station. The place was brimming with local tourists and small children! All that hard leg work - and we could have come down in a cable car. It was here, in front of these people, that we did our first practice abseil, down a rock only 6m high. Because we were a tiny group, 4 people, as opposed to the group yesterday of 16 people, were we able to repeat the practice abseil a couple of times. Made me feel slightly more confident with the equipment.

Our first abseil was down a rock 18m high but we were next to the waterfall, not in it. We were still in the vicinity of the cable car so we were watched, photographed and videoed by all the tourists. It was great fun. We hiked, trekked and floated down river to our next spot - well away from the tourists. I jumped from a 3m ledge which does not sound alot - but for me was an accomplishment. I opted out of some of the activities, such as the 8m and 11m jumps. I also declined to be pushed headfirst down a rock into some rapids. I'm not young enough to be that stupid - I was quite happy to climb down that rockface! I did do all the abseils though - not everyone did. The force of the water hitting you is extreme - it doesn't look that bad in the photos but it was hard to keep your footing - plus obviously the rocks are extremely slippery. This waterfall pictured had an added bonus. You couldn't abseil all the way to the bottom. the water was too rough at the bottom - there was a bad current. So as you descended, you had to keep an eye out for the person at the bottom. When he told you to jump, you let go of the rope and flung yourself backwards like a starfish aiming to land on your bottom. (You were still attached to the safety rope as all times)

What I didn't quite realise was how high you were when you jumped. It was 4m up and because I was wearing a life jacket, it acts as a barrier as you hit the water, so I was slightly winded after the jump but elated at the same time. Our final abseil was lovingly called the washing machine. Again you couldn't land in the water because you landed in a set of rapids. This time there was no jumping. When your feet touched water, you let go of the rope and the rapids churned you out at the otherside. You were supposed to hold your nose as you let go - guess what I forgot to do? By this time it was close to 3pm. It had been a frightening day but lots of fun at the same time. My legs had turned to jelly with all the exertion but the worse was to come. We had to get back to the road. It was a 400m vertical hike. The natural steps (tree branches) were a good 50cm apart - my legs are too tiny to climb up these kind of steps. It was torture. Where was the cable car now? The following day I could not walk. In fact it wasn't till 3 days and a good massage later, that feeling returned to my thighs! Unable to walk the next day what else could I do but take a motorbike tour. Da Lat is home of the easy rider. Motorbike tours where you ride pillion. They do 3, 4 even 14 day trips as well with all your luggage strapped to the back. As my entire motorcycling history comprises of one motor taxi ride in Thailand, I sensibly opted for the one day countyside tour. I was driven out through the gorgeous mountain scenery and saw real people working in real places. I saw a silk producing factory, a family that keep the weasels that make the world famous and expensive weasel poo coffee. I even had a cup of weasel coffee (I don't like coffee but as I was here...) It was very bitter. I saw a cricket farm too and was invited to try a deep fried cricket or two - this I declined.

All in all it was a very pleasant day but I was glad to get off the motorbike. One day is enough for me, I was going to take the bus out of Da Lat not a motorbike tour. I chose to travel by the local bus company, Tan my moto guide told me they had by far the best drivers for this route. Most travelers take the giant open bus carriers that operate the length of the country, Saigon to Hanoi. I was the only non vietnamese speaker on the bus. But everyone looked after me, I was invited to move from my assigned aisle seat to the front of the bus in the spare seat for the second conductor. I had the best view on the bus and what a view it was. The mountain road was not well maintained in places and narrow and zig-zaged all over the place. I later heard that those on the open bus had spent alot of time throwing up. My driver on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing, he avoided the large holes on the road and was slow and steady through the never ending bends. The views were breath-taking. That ride is going to be a high light of Vietnam.

The road led to Nha Trang another coastal resort. Nha Trang was a shock. First the temperature - the hottest place in Vietnam so far. Mid 30's and the temperature did not drop under 30 even at midnight. Secondly it was completely Russian. Everything was in Russian. The locals were not as friendly (they are used to very rude foreigners) and everything was overpriced. The saving grace was the "amazing snorkelling" trip I went on. It actually was amazing. The equipment I was given was top notch, the snorkelling sites were great and teeming with life. I saw loads. The lunch provided was amazing too. To top it off I met some really nice people on the boat and we met up afterwards for a night out. The hangover was not amazing however, but by now it was time to leave Nha Trang. I never want to end up in a Russian resort again.

Mekong Delta

The Mekong Delta region is the bottom, tear-shaped area of Vietnam. It is where 9 tributaries converge on the mighty Mekong river making it a lush and fertile landscape. It is known as the rice basket of Vietnam. I took a bargain basement budget tour of the area over two days. Up until this point it had rained every afternoon in Vietnam solidly for a couple of hours but the mornings had been clear and crisp. As I was to be spending the majority of the next two days on a boat, I was hoping for the same weather. By half past 8 the first morning, torrential horizontal rain had started. Before we got to the Mekong river, we stopped off at a temple where the buddhist monks were in prayer. They had to stop their prayers to shutter and bolt the doors closed as the winds picked up even more. The temple would have been beautiful if I could have seen it through the sheet rain. We boarded the first boat to take us across the river to islands with local "factories" on. Health and safety is not the greatest concern in SE Asia yet as we boarded this boat, the guide insisted we wore life jackets - that made a couple of people feel nervous. The life jackets had the bonus of keeping us warmer. I would not have said it was a rough crossing but the Chinese tourists had all turned green.

I was hoping to see some traditional way of life in the Mekong, but unfortunately these mass market tours take you to tourist built replica's. I am not saying I didn't enjoy myself because I did but the fisherman landing his catch (in the photo above) was the only real thing we saw on the first day. We were taken to a coconut candy (their title - not mine) factory where we had a demonstration on how coconut milk is heated, mixed and turned into sweets. I did buy a bag of coconut biscuits. I also had a shot of coconut wine. The name is a lie - it was hard spirit and very strong at that. It certainly warmed the cockles and made the rain radiate off me. Then it was a quick 10 minutes ride in a donkey and cart, thankfully the rain stopped, otherwise the cart would not have made it around the muddy track. We were also shown a man carrying bees, to demonstrate the local honey, and we drank honey tea. Obviously we were encouraged to buy some - obviously I declined. We were even entertained by people playing traditional music and songs. The mini concert lasted 5 mins and ended with the classic Vietnamese song, "If you're happy and you know it,clap your hands" Lunch was served on another island, a huge tourist built restaurant that could cater for all the tour groups at the same time. My complementary meal of rice and vegetables was actually really tasty.

The restaurant complex also had a crocodile farm. The crocodiles were fascinating. They kept so still in the water, if I had not seen one move earlier, I would have sworn they were plastic. They didn't move a muscle. You could purchase meat on a line to dangle in front of the crocs. Once it was in range, the crocodile would spring up and devour the meat. They really were impressive creatures, it was obvious when watching them why they are so feared. They are ferocious predators and you would not know they were there until it was too late! The highlight of the afternoon for me was when the bee man came back with his pet python. A Spanish bloke attempted to have it round his neck but he was clearly very scared and could not relax, so I offered to "wear" it. I loved it - it was a beautiful creature, so elegant. I laughed out loud as it started to wrap itself around my legs - this was too much for the Chinese tourists, who by now were whimpering. My delight buoyed up some of the others who also had a go. Bee-man had to take the python away as it was time for our next activity. A ride down a small river in a traditional boat - a sampan. These are small rowing boats which can fit 4 inside, with a rower sat at the front and another person on the rudder behind. The serene pace of river life was over in 10 minutes as it was time to head back to the mainland. From there we were driven a couple of hours until we reached the town of Can Tho. Here you could stay in a hotel (guess where the Chinese went) or you could stay in a homestay along the river. Homestay in this case meant guest-house along the river. We were loaded into another smaller and much more rickety boat and chugged along the river for half an hour. By now it was dark, the rain was still falling and the boat felt like it would tip any minute. It was an interesting ride! We all arrived safely though and relaxed in hammocks til the rooms were ready. I was expecting to share a room (and I did) but I was not expecting to share a bed! All the beds were doubles, so my bed-mate was a girl called Doris from Korea. Unfortunately she spent most of the night rolling into me and kicking me so i was not well rested for our 6am start in the morning.

We were up early so we could visit the famous floating market at Cai Rang. This is basically a food market but instead of stalls each vendor has a boat. Buyers row up to each boat and bargain. We had a 50 minute boat ride simply to reach Cai Rang but at least it was light and despite thunderous looking sky, it wasn't raining yet. The pictures normally shown to tourist are taking over the New year period, the busiest in the year when the market can stretch for 18km. On a Tuesday morning in August the market was approx 1 - 2 km long. Weaving in and out of the boats was fun though especially as I had managed to get the best seat on our boat - nobody else wanted it because it was by itself but the views were great. As our passenger boats glided through the market small drinks boats attached themselves to the side of our boat and tried to sell us all soft drinks of every description. I treated myself to a diet coke. Pineapples, potatoes and watermelons seemed to be the big sellers of the day.

After an hour or so we had pretty much exhausted the market so it was time to go ashore. We visited a rice noodle factory - they make giant thin rice pancakes and then put them through a shredder to make the noodles. Then it was another cruise down the river before our guide took us to a restaurant where we could try local delicacies. Bear in mind it was only 10am so nobody was hungry, then the menu came out. You could try mouse, rat, frog, snake or eel. There were no takers but this did not deter our guide. Instead he brought out 1 litre of rice wine. Again, when I say wine, I mean homebrew spirit that is around 60% proof. He offered it around but it being 10am meant the majority refused. A Russian couple on their honeymoon took him up on his offer, as did a couple of Spaniards. For the next 40minutes we all watched them get steadily wasted. I had one glass but it was foul stuff. The guide thought it funny I was veggie and kept asking if i wanted to try the mouse. When I told him I wasn't a cat, he cracked up and gave me a pineapple. For the rest of the morning I was walking around brandishing a pineapple like a sword.

We were boated back to Can Tho where it was a long bus ride back to Saigon. I carried my pineapple all the way back to the hostel and later that night I chopped it up and ate the whole lot. It was very tasty and alot better than I imagine the mouse would have been. I later found out why there had been so much rain whilst I was in the Delta. Turns out it was the tail end of a typhoon that had been battering China!

The Town with Two Names

Ho Chi Minh City is not the capital of Vietnam but it is the largest city with close to 7 million living in the centre. Yet the vast majority of these refer to it as Saigon - the name it had prior to South Vietnam's defeat in the "American War". All the buses have Saigon printed as their destination and alot of business incorporate the word Saigon somewhere in their name. I myself stayed in the Saigon Youth Hostel. A building located down an incredibly narrow alley (the motorbikes where even limited to only doing 20mph whilst they ran over the sellers sat on the alley floors selling fresh food, cooked food, cigarettes, lottery tickets and raincoats amongst others). I ended up in a 2 bed dorm complete with tv (I watched Thor one night) with Shana the girl from the bus. For a couple of days we potted around the city until she had to fly on to Hanoi. One of the skills we learnt was how to cross the road. There are thousands of motorbikes on the road and the traffic is otherworldly compared to Europe. They come at you from all angles with a large minority riding the wrong side of the road. Crossing, especially at a major junction where they

could be 5 interconnecting roads and 8 lanes of traffic is not for the faint-hearted. The trick is to step out into the traffic and to keep going. Do no stop and what ever you do - do not backtrack. As the motos zoom towards you they presume you will keep going and move into the space you have just vacated. Step backwards or hesitate too long and you could have a very painful experience. Needless to say no one in their right mind would attempt to cross where this photo was taken but I am proud to admit that I got a distinction in Saigon road crossing. I even had to walk some young backpackers across the road because they couldn't manage it by themselves! As well as road traversing we also say the sights. The Reunification Palace was left exactly as it was, when the North Vietnamese tanks crashed through the gates in 1975. It is a time capsule, with furnishings from the 60's. The best bit is the basement, which was the war bunker. It still has the old fashioned radio's and typewriters that took up an entire room.

We also visited the War Remnants Museum, this was on three storeys and consisted primarily from photographs taken during the American war. There was alot of photo-journalists working in Vietnam during the war - there was a display dedicated to them, unfortunately a large number of them were killed during the conflict. The photo's were harrowing. I thought the S21 torture / detention centre was bad in Phnom Penh, but this was horrific. There were many quotes from the Geneva convention stating that the war was illegal, the use of chemical weapons was illegal - the scientific testing of new dioxins was illegal - most of the reports were dated 1965. The war didn't end till 1975. What was really disturbing was the photos of the American GI's engaging in massacres and decapitations and grinning wildly. Then I came to the Agent Orange room. Agent Orange was the name given to the deadly poisonous toxin that was dropped all over the country. It wiped out all the vegetation and poisoned the land but the effects on humans were grotesque. Immediate effects were chemical burns but later effects were on children whose parents had been exposed. There was alot of growth deformities, missing organs, missing faces, developmental abnormalities, shrunken limbs or missing limbs. The photos of the children were the most upsetting. There were also photos of families of American veterans whose children had been born with these problems. Needles to say it wasn't the most uplifting way to spend an afternoon but if more people witness these things - who knows - we may get less wars!

I also visited the Chu Chi tunnels. These are the tunnels that the North Vietnamese built and lived in to evade the Americans. On the highest level (closest to the surface) is where the kitchen, schooling and hospital bunkers were. There were two lower levels as well.The lowest level was 11m below ground. These tunnels were deadly. The lower tunnels were so humid and full of poisonous air that a man had to crawl flat on his stomach with his mouth closest to the soil - otherwise he could suffocate. Even the higher, more ventilated tunnels were a nightmare, with fire ants, scorpions and other biting insects living in them. Malaria was almost as high a killer to the Vietnamese than the Americans. The tunnels at Chu Chi have been widen to accommodate the western visitors. Even so, crawling through them is difficult. It is still a tight space. A number of my tourist group couldn't enter and those who did - a number immediately turned round and came out again. The visitor tunnels go on for 100m but every 20m there is an exit. Only two of my group of 28 managed all the way to the end, of those whe actually entered, the majority came out at the first exit after 20m. I managed 60m. It wasn't the humidity or claustrophobia that got to me - it was the burning of my leg muscles and the pain emanating from my knees that told me to call it a day. This is me exiting the tunnels - the exit by the way is at least three times as wide as the tunnel itself. As for the height of the tunnel, if I squatted down, bottom almost on the floor, then my head was cm's off skimming the roof on the tunnel - and I am only 5 foot 5!

Goodbye Cambdia, Hello Vietnam

The minivan trundled down a mud road. Through the rain we could see a small hut and then a barrier across the road. This was it – the exit from Cambodia. Look carefully, you may be able to make out the sign! Our driver collected our passports and ran towards the hut, leaving us all in the van. 10minutes later, he was back, we were all dry and officially stamped out of Cambodia. A short drive later we came across some sturdier looking portocabin constructions. This was Vietnam. We had to leave the car – primarily so they could try and scam us, but thankfully our luggage could stay behind. We were given a form to fill out – a medical form and then if we could not produce a yellow fever certificate – charged a $1 health fee. If you did have yellow fever, paying a guard $1 seems a very easy way to cure yourself! I did not have my certificate on me as it is not required to get into any S E Asian countries. I was asked for my dollar, I told the official I did not have it and walked over to the passport processing area. It was the same official who came across and processed my details but he did not chase me for the money. I’m guessing everyone else paid up. I have since found out that those who crossed from the Phnom Penh border were asked for a $1 data fee . At least they only asked for one dollar, the Cambodian officials were far greedier in their demands. I was going to stay in the border town of Ha Tien for the night, but I made a split second decision to buy a bus ticket to Ho Chi Minh City as the bus was due in 15 minutes time. What I did not realise was the journey was 8 hours. It was only 2pm and as my original intention had been to stay put – I had not brought any provisions for the journey. I now had 10 minutes to find something I could eat (all the street stalls were meat and rice) and to pay for it – I had no Vietnamese money. I spied a bakery and got a couple of little baguettes for a dollar (Good job I had kept my hands on the money). When the bus arrived, it was not a coach as I was expecting but a rickety minivan with no leg room. Only 5 mins into the journey we stopped so large bags of rice could be stored under the seats, in the aisle and on the roof. Cramped would be an understatement. 3 hours into the journey, we pull up in a small town bus station. Rest stop perhaps – no – we were told to get off and another bus would pick us up in 15 minutes time. Before anyone had time to feel really apprehensive, the new minivan turned up and it was far roomier than the last one and no bags of rice or random locals were piled onboard. All continued fine for another 3 hours until we reached a set of traffic lights alongside the river. We presumed it was a one way traffic flow over a bridge – it was a ferry unloading. The van drove onto the ferry and the passengers all sat around looking perplexed. The door slid open and dozens of hawkers tried to get inside the van to sell goodies. There was meat on sticks, meat in dumplings, meat in bread, there was also drinks, cigarettes and giant cakes. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something I recognised. It was a bag of quails eggs. They cost me equiv 50 cents and I was simply hoping they were going to be hard boiled. My luck was in – they were hard boiled. As I started to peel my first egg – we docked. Turns out the ferry just shunted traffic across the river. I spent the remainder of the journey trying to eat my eggs – they were pesky little buggers to peel. We pulled into Ho Chi Minh City on time at 10pm. I teamed up with Shana – a girl on the bus, and we set off in search of beds.

Sihanoukville - Otres Beach

Sihanoukville is the holiday destination for all Cambodians. It is on the Southern Coast with a couple of islands situated a couple of hours boat ride away. I heard of travellers who end up spending weeks in Sihanoukville - of course, that is in the dry season. Sihanoukville comprises of a town (20 min walk away from the beach) and three different beach areas spread over quite a distance. The Russians have taken over one, the second beach, known as Serendipity is where most people go and is the most crowded and dirtiest and full of hawkers whilst the third beach is a good 20 minute drive away from town. This beach is called Otres Beach and it is where I headed. Lots of travelers had recommended this place as a quiet little oasis. It was teaming it down when I arrived. The mud road was underwater, so I ran into a hostel that was highly praised on the old t'internet called Wish You Were Here. Very quickly I wished I was anywhere but here. Its the worst hostel I have stayed in so far. The beds felt damp, whilst the towel was most definitely damp. The mosquito net had huge holes in it - an owl could have got through let alone a mossie. Out of 4 fans only 1 worked, so it was ridiculously hot, but by far the worse thing was the location of the run down grubby toilet block. To get to the bathroom you had to go down a large wooden staircase (that was outside) and cross a path full of uneven cobbles. There was no light and the stairs and cobbles were extremely slippery when wet. Trying to get to the bathroom at night was a death trap. I left, first thing next morning.

There is nothing at Otres, only sand, accommodation and beach bars / restaurants. The most popular accommodation is the bamboo bungalows that line the beach front. These are expensive, especially in the high season but because of the rain I managed to find a bungalow on the beach complete with ensuite bathroom for only $10 a night. I had to pay $5 for the dorm - other hostels in the area charge $9 for a dorm bed. I was elated, my own private bungalow. I stayed for another 4 nights. 2 days were washed out but the other 2 days were real scorchers.On rainy days I read and watched dvds and on the sunny days I splashed around in the waves and sunbathed. When night fell and the sky was clear, I lay on the beach listening to the crashing waves and watching the night sky. the stars were so bright and you could make out the milky way. The cocktails I was drinking were good too!

I left when the next band of rain came in, but I only went as far as the town centre. There is a Vietnamese Consulate in town where you can get your Vietnam Visa. I was going to get the Visa in Phnom Penh until I found out that they bus your passports to Sihanoukville, because the staff here can process the visa alot quicker than the consulate in Phnom Penh. As the guest house I was going to spend the night in had shut up shop in the last week, I treated myself to a room in a proper hotel. The Small Hotel charged me $15 for a room with air0con, fridge, tv / dvd and hair-dryer. I even got a bureau desk. I had to go to the local market to buy some water so I could put it in the fridge! I was very excited with all this luxury but the biggest joy was the shower. It was hot water. I can't remember the time I last had hot water! I walked to the consulate the following morning, filled out a form, handed over $60 (I will stay as long as possible in Vietnam - just to get my monies worth)

I travelled back to Kampot that night as it is closer to the border. I am crossing over to Vietnam at the Ha Tien border - this has only been opened to Westeners for a couple of years now but it will save me the hassle of having to back track all the way to Phnom Penh. I spent my last evening in Cambodia back at the Magic Sponge hostel, where William the owner tried to improve my film knowledge by having me watch Dr Strangelove. He gave me lots of popcorn too!

Kampot

After the oppressiveness of Phnom Penh, boarding a bus to go south towards the coast, left me feeling quite light-hearted. My destination was the tiny town of Kampot. Older gastronomists amongst you may recognise the name. There was a time when no self respecting high end restaurant (especially those in Paris) would be seen without a bottle of expensive Kampot pepper on the table. Alas the coming of the Khmer Rouge saw a desolation of the pepper plantations but they are slowly being nurtured again. The pepper has protected status (like Champagne or Parma ham) but it only flourishes in a small area within Cambodia. It cannot even be grown in other areas within Cambodia. Whilst here I thought it would be rude not to visit the pepper farms – my goodness, it is exceptionally

strong stuff.Whilst in Kampot I was also introduced to the rainy season proper. When it rains – it is torrential and doesn’t stop for 18 hours. Roads are turned into unpassable mud bogs – try to walk on them and you would sink to your shins. Needless to say on those days, I didn’t do much. I read alot. Can you believe that one of the books at my hostel was by a Wakefield author and was set in Wakefield. The author has some skill as she made Wakefield sound picturesque, even when a serial killer was dumping bodies at NewMillerDam and Sandal Castle! Just outside the tiny town of Kampot lies Bokor Hill. This is a famous spot as it is where Napoleon dropped of a handful of French colonists. The abandoned church is still standing, looking eerie in the perpetual mist, but all that remains of the rest of the town is the odd floor tile that has not been completely covered in grass. The French were not the only ones to build atop the hill. The former king built a summer palace up there. As you can see, it looks completely derelict. You can walk around it, the rains and mist have eroded all decoration, there is nothing left except the exposed brick work,

some floor tiles, plently of bullet holes (when the Khmer Rouge seized it) and one pair of shackles drilled into the wall (when the Khmer Rouge used it as a prison and execution centre). From the evidence of Bokor Hill, if you wish something of your house to last a long time – then use floor tiles. On dry days I enjoyed cycling around Kampot into the surrounding villages. The countryside here is truly beautiful, with the rains making it lush and vibrant. It is still very much an agricultural economy with old style farming methods being used. Hoes are used to break up the soil and oxen are used as ploughs. With rice being the staple crop, the rice paddy's are knee deep in water. I actually saw a farmer with two ox pulling a plough through the rice field. This is where it becomes really cool. The farmer was stood on his plough (a plank of wood strapped to the two ox) and he was water skiing across the rice fields. He even waved at me as he passed. I wish I had got my camera to hand - but I hadn't.

About 20km away from Kampot is the town of Kep. It is famous throughout Cambodia for one thing. Crab. The crab market is renowned, and if there is a national, world class dish, then it is Kep crab with Kampot pepper. I have never eaten crab before, but what a place to start. Luckily my dining companion was a Spanish lady who was well accustomed to the perils and pitfalls that surround eating crabs in their shells. I did get given some nut crackers, but my crabs were tiny and fell through the nutcrackers. I had to rely on brute strength - therefore it took me forever, but it really was one of the best meals I have ever had. The pepper sauce was amazing, it was fresh pepper, picked on the bud, and unless someone has a pepper tree in their back garden, that sauce will be impossible to replicate. To make the experience even better, the restaurant was built on stilts and jutted out into the ocean. We could see the ocean below us through the floorboards and feel the ocean breeze as there were no windows, just empty spaces where windows could have gone. Thankfully it was a rain free day. Kampot has to be one of the friendliest places I have been to. Everybody waves and greets you as you pass. For such a tiny place, it as a high proportion of ex pats - or pot pats as they call themselves. I have eaten some great food here, from battered fish bites to a local lady who cooks the best Indian food I have tasted. The palak paneer (spinach curry) was outstanding - although I feel she uses more spices than a traditional Indian cook. My mouth was on fire for quite some time. Even the local bakery did a mouth watering chocolate cake. I realised I had to move on whilst I was still able to walk - I am going to miss the food though!