So, the bus ride to Vietnam was an odd one to say the least. The worst bus in the history of bad buses. A rickety old thing that had something somewhat akin to a seat/hobbit bed but it was ridiculously uncomfortable. There was no angle to make this thing comfortable. Worse still I was in the middle, with no side bars to my little cot type thing. The driver, I’m sure fully aware of this, was hooning around like nobody’s business and I was sliding out with each hoon. The tone was set for the ride the second the engine started and we were afronted by What is Love by Haddaway, the dutch-techno-pop “classic, followed by several other tunes of that genre and followed quickly and equally as loudly by some more local horror from more techno to achey ballads, just when you thought you’d had enough, back to Haddaway and it all begins again. Furthermore, the aircon unit above me had been broken at the directional grate thingymajig and as such was blowing super cold air upon me incessently, and occasionally a little spurt of water just to shake things up. A few hours in we hit the Vietnamese border. An odd experience in itself with very little signage or guidance. We were simply ushered off the bus into a restaurant. We had some lunch, it was quite the chore for me to explain no meat, despite the fact that I had it written on my phone in Laotian and Vietnamese, due to the illiteracy of the local folk there. Again, no aspersions cast upon them though, it is definitely I the awkward picky dude who chooses not just to eat food. We eventually got to a point where egg and rice were ok, so we kept getting handed eggs on top of rice. The thing is, from what I can gather at least, is these restaurants don’t really work off a menu, they just keep putting food in front of you or on your table and you eat what you feel like. I think the price is basically a fixed one. So each time the ladies were clearing plates and they noticed omelette, they tried to give it to us. It was a few rounds in that we realised that the eggs were seasoned with pork fat, as Conny was handed one with a lump of gristle upon it. That marked the end of lunch. At this point we sat around for some sign of what we ought to do, keeping the drivers in sight, so as not to get left behind. It was only due to the kindness of some entirely non-english speaking locals and their concern that they gestured we ought to walk across the border to the Laotian office to get our exit stamp. We thank them eternally for their service! A long wait later we are given our passports back, we get on the bus, drive 50 metres and are told to dismount for the Vietnam office. Another wait later we head back on the bus from hell.

I had some time ago decided that the best option after the border would be to grab some shut eye. Well. Driver put pay to that. I had thought I could listen to some of my own music to drown out the din, which was a sensible idea until the driver put on some movies. There was a screen, hidden in a place that no one could see, but driver decided he would up the ante on the volume so all we could hear was the soundtrack of chats, choons and banging gunfire. I had no chance.

We arrived at Danang, both relieved and feeling like we had been through SAS torture training. We decided we would stop for the night somewhere near the bus station to save hassle the next day. Finding a place was not as easy as we had hoped and we settled for a seedy looking place down a seedy little street, but frankly it was the only thing available. A bit grotty, but fine for a night. Danang did have one thing. Fried rice. The best fried rice I have ever eaten. All the restaurants were looking very dubious for the vegetarian, so we decided to chance it with one of the smaller places along the street, where a guy just cooked in his wok to order. I practiced my best “An Chay” Vietnamese for vegetarian and we pointed at some vegetables and even a alocal chap who spoke some English described to the cook. What came out was a huge pile of awesome fried rice with vegatables and MSG that tasted immense. Not sure I mentioned this before (I know I did, but hey ho), but I am not as averse to MSG as many are, especially those who love food. The reason being I don’t buy the hype. Of course too much MSG is bad for you, but so is salt. In fact MSG is exactly that, a salt. So those who want to decry it as the horror food that will melt your brain and give you heart disease, firstly put down your salt, then secondly go and fuck yourselves. If you are then gonna bang on to me about it not being natural, it is a chemical process, much like salt, formed from natural ingredients (comes from a root vegetable), again much like salt…wait did I say this before…it is salt. Anyway, the reason it is so delicious and that it was developed in the first place is because it is an umami flavour which we all recognise as being utterly delicious. Well, once again, I digress. Back to the travels.

We also had doughnuts and a coffee in Danang before heading to Hoi An in the morning. Another shonky bus ride away but this time only an hour or so, with fully inflated westerner tariffs and led by a horribly rude man (the man justified his inflation of our tariff by pulling out a scrap of paper that was barely legible and was just some random shit map with scribbles and some prices on it that said 1 hour=costs a lot if you are white, or something to that effect. He then sat down and laughed as he showed a local how much money he had just taken off us, right next to me. Worse still was how he manhandled the women, moving them around by the scruff of the neck or a grab of the shoulder, even a woman who had to be in her seventies had her hat knocked off by the force of his grab. A proper prick) We arrived at Hoi An and got into a taxi, this was my birthday week and Conny had booked us in somewhere nice to hang around and relax. The Corner Riverside Villa was its name and it was wonderful. Situated just outside Hoi An a bit along the river, as the name suggests, there was a pool, breakfast and bikes included. The rooms were lovely and clean and the staff as helpful as can be. Hoi An is a great spot to relax. Another UNESCO heritage town it lives up to the others, and then some. A beautiful old french style colonial town, but full of Asian flare, beauty and colour. Better still the only motorised vehicles allowed in the old town during the day are scooters and such, but after 3pm no motorised vehicles whatsoever may go in. It is a beautiful place to just mosey around taking in the glowing lanterns at night, or visiting the many tailors there in the day. Conny and I had a couple of things made there and they really are worth it. Fitted to you, cheaper than an off the shelf version in Europe and all done to your own specs in two days. We went to Maya tailors on the recommendation of our hotel and we could not have been more pleased. If I’m honest if I wasn’t living out of a bag, I would have spent a fortune in there. Also it wouldn’t be correct if I didn’t make some comment on the food. For starters, are two vegetarian restaurants in Hoi An, both just outside the old town, both wonderful, although the larger of the two (Min Hien) did rely quite heavily on fake meat as opposed to vegetables. The other restaurant, my personal favourite but I can’t find it’s name anywhere, was a small menu, wasn’t set out as starters and mains etc, it was just about 8 things. It was utterly delectable and super cheap, plus I managed to get a savoury vegetarian Bo bun there that blew my socks off, even Conny said it was better than the meat version. There was also one other place in town that deserves a mention. It was a little cafe just near one of the old houses that serve as a visitor attraction. On the stoop is a lady selling lotus tea, which is fucking delicious, and inside they have a nice little menu that they can adapt to vegetarians that was super nice.

Hoi An was the perfect spot for a relaxed birthday week. Conny, at the hotel, booked me in for the single only manicure/pedicure of my then 35 years on the planet. It took some egging on from one of the other guests (a Latvian chap who was there with his Ukrainian girlfriend who were on holiday from their lives in Greenland where the chap served in the Danish Navy. An odd situation to be in, but they were thoroughly lovely folk and it saddens me that I don’t even know their names, so if you do stumble upon this, please do let us know so that I may correct it). We hung out by the pool with our new friends, wandered the streets and markets at night, ate cakes, drank coffees and to top it off we went on a boat/snorkelling/beach barbecue trip on my birthday which was perfect. The snorkelling lovely, the fish were amazing in their colours and clusters of life. As too were the coral gardens. The boat ride was pleasant and to cap it off the lunch at the beach was brilliant. As a vegetarian I even got extra special vege portions.

The only negative I would say is that as Westerners we were tricked into buying an entirely unnecessary ticket at the start of Hoi An. To be honest I thought it was a bit dubious. We were stopped by a lady who shepherded us to a booth selling a day pas to the town and it’s attractions. We asked if it was obligatory and they insisted it was, even when we asked what if we come everyday, they said this covers it. There was however no barrier nor booth and no way of controlling it but Conny said pay, so pay I did. I even heard them saying the same to some other tourists nearby. It was only later that we realised for sure though that it was a pure scam, and we didn’t even want to go to the attractions that were included in the price, and there is no way that the ticket is needed just to enter the town like they told us. SO, lessons learned, don’t listen to anyone.

I must admit that the hotel was a proper gem. Nothing super fancy, but absolutely perfect, I could not have wished for a better week swimming in the beautiful pool at night was a particular highlight.

When we left we organised our travel from Hoi An to Phong Na with our hotel and were picked up in a lovely tour bus which then put us on to another big bus to Phong Na. We arrived at Phong Na in the evening. One of the guys who had travelled from Danang actually worked in a hotel/restaurant there and he told us about a place, next door to the restaurant he worked in. It was brand new, and perhaps not even finished yet, but we got a solid, clean room with a nice bathroom for 10 $ a night, plus next door, the Yummy restaurant, where Su the chap from the bus worked, was exactly as you would expect from a place with such a name. I had the best lemongrass and chilli tofu there I have ever eaten. Every meal was delicious…this might become a theme in Vietnam, the food here is the best in Asia by some way especially for someone like me.

At Phong Na, we were joined by an old friend of ours from our days on the French Riviera. Barry, who had worked with myself and Conny many years ago and was one of our bestest friends, just so happened to be touring Vietnam on his motorbike. We were introduced to his ladypartner, Silvia, a Spaniard that Barry had met a year previously in the Philipines, and fallen in love with and got matching tattoos within a week(a line from 1001 nights about how things in life are fleeting, the good times and the bad “this too shall pass”). A lovely, free spirited and strong willed lady, much in the mould of Barry’s previous girlfriend who is also still amongst our favouritest people and is as good and bonkers as the Finns get (for she is Finnish). Barry and Silvia were touring on their motorbikes and kind of just told us that they would be where we were when we were there so we booked another night or two and decided to hang out. We had beers, Barry had the shits, and we had a jolly night at the local Lazy Lizard hostel/bar. We met some other folk and had a right good old natter. Again as I am writing this some time after the event, I have forgotten the names of the two folk we met in particular that I enjoyed the company of most. She was a bag of bubbles and smutty fun from Essex and he was a quiet Mancunian with a suitably dry wit and a genuine nice demeanour. We stayed out for hours, which to be fare is rare for us, we are normally quite the early to bed type. We managed to get some food on the way home after Barry, then Silvia had called it a night. The next day was all about the bikes. I borrowed Silvia’s bike and Barry took to Clyde, his faithful steed, as we hit the road into the national park. It really was great to get on to a real bike with gears and a bit of poke (relatively speaking, they are still 125’s) and hit the road. We headed along the river and then off into the rolling mountains. At the edge of the park was a barrier. Barriers are nothing to Barry, the Barrier was higher at one end so he just ducked under it and sped off, I however was somewhat surprised by this development, so as I slowed to go under, aware that my spatial awareness with a helmet ain’t what it ought to be I crawled through and just as I thought “Success, I haven’t hit my head!” it dawned on me that this was indeed a bike and not a scooter, and I was in third gear. Too late. As it spluttered to a halt, I panicked nervously expecting to be pounced upon by the guard in the nearby archway. As I struggled to get the bike going I was expecting to attempt to try and use my best non-existant Vietnamese to explain myself before being flung in prison for violating the national park laws. Turns out the guard gave zero fucks. Didn’t even move beyond looking up at me in dismay.

As we progressed through the jungle in all its ridiculously plush and thick vegetation, it dawned on us what a fucking stupid idea it was of the Americans to think they could come here to this place and win a war on this unknown terrain against locals who have navigated it for an age.

We drove the roads, through some villages, we even passed some other westerners on their scooters. Some with helmets, some without, some with guides, some driving themselves…all had looks of sheer terror across their faces. It beggars belief to me that these people chose to do this for their enjoyment. A guide I can just about understand, but fucking relax if you are going to do it. The rest though…I have no idea. Why oh why would you go to a practically lawless country in regard to road safety and take up riding a bike, that you have no business or permit to ride and no experience in doing so, of course you are going to spend the whole time shitting your pants, that is if you don’t die or lose all of your skin on the tarmac. Worse still this hole thing with westerners and no helmets boggles my mind. Now I have even been guilty of this in a short trip around the corner when we didn’t have enough helmets for the three of us on a scooter, but that was really in some back water place and no traffic, and I am a massive hypocrite. But people riding around the streets, clearly with no knowledge of bike riding with no helmets wherever they go, its like they think the roads are softer in Asia and that their heads won’t explode upon hitting it without a helmet.

It was a great day and yet another great meal in our bellies (RESTAURANT NAME) it was time to head home. Sadly on the way home some cuntyballs had hit a dog in the street and left it there. At first no-one knew what to do but a couple of us silently decided almost simultaneously to go and give the dog a bit of company in his final moments. Lucky it wasn’t bloody and it looked reasonably peaceful and quick. Truly sad not being able to do anything or even know where or how to find a vet, moreover that people just give zero fucks. The only thing we could do was let him know we were there to try and comfort his last breaths. Here were two local ladies amongst our comforting few and they waited till he was gone and gave him a stroke before carrying him off.

The next morning we decided to venture in to the caves. They have here the single largest cave in the world and the cave system is enormous. The trick on the cave we went to is to get there with a cluster of people or make a cluster at the booking office. You have to pay entrance to the cave individually, but on top of that you have to pay for a boat. The boat seats twelve and is the same price if you are one, or if you are twelve. So, better be twelve.

It’s a pleasant little ride up the river, then at the mouth of the cave they shut the engine off and peel the roof back. The cave truly is huge, and I believe that we were in one of the smaller ones open to the public (the largest cave is heavily restricted as it only has a short season and a max number of 500 visitors allowed per year, at the cost of a few thousand dollars each). There is a chap at that front and a lady at the back who paddled us down the river into the cave. The chap at the front kept pointing at rocks and saying things like “turtle” or “elephant” but I was at a loss. All I could see was a lot of vaginas and a bit of bacon. But still really pretty. It is one of those moments, like at the Grand Canyon or among the Sequoias, being in the presence of something that has been shaped by millennia and has lived, one way or another, through ages. The idea of something so ancient really hits home our simple insignificance. On the way out we disembark in the cave and do the last few hundred metres on foot. Getting to walk amongst the giant stalactites and stalagmites, or even the places they have joined to form columns is breathtaking. The colours and beauty throughout is a wonder.

Tour over we headed back to the hotel to collect our things before getting on the night bus. Another shonky affair. But the semi-seats were at least this time more comfortable. As ever, there were Westerners expecting Western service and space and comfort and making a cluster fuck of it all. There was even someone who could only wait 10 minutes into the journey to go for a ciggy in the toilet. Seriously, how weak do you have to be? Every so often the same person would do the same thing. Surely there are better ways to enjoy a bus ride than sat in the shitty shitter chuffing on a cancer stick? But no, if that floats his boat then fair play. Just wished I wasn’t in nose-shot so to speak.