There’s such a lot of world to see

OK, so I posted a blog entry from Hong Kong Airport – fast becoming my favourite place in the world apart from the tailor’s shop in Hoi An, so we all know how the story ends, I got to Hong Kong safe and sound and with full typing ability – but what was the journey like?

Epic, that’s what. Months ago, back in Cambodia, I was speaking to a Canadian guy about the difficulty of what would appear, on the face of it, to be a hassle-free journey: Hanoi to Hong Kong. Geographically, the two places are relatively close together, both of them major cities. Shouldn’t really be a problem getting between the two. Wrong! The cheapest flights I could see were about $330, waaaay out of my budget. The other obvious alternative would be to get the train north from Vietnam, through China, and on to Hong Kong. I know the Chinese railways well enough to know that it shouldn’t be too difficult. However, this was August – Chinese holiday month, when virtually the entire 1.3 billion population goes on the move, and also I’d need to apply for another Chinese visa just for a day or so on the train. There had to be an easier way. The guy suggested I look at Air Asia, a new budget airline, who fly from Hanoi to Bangkok, and then Bangkok to Macau, from where I can get a ferry across to Hong Kong. This was a cheap option, so I booked it, glossing over the fact that it would involve a dash west across Asia before heading back north east, and also the fact that I would be spending the night at Bangkok Airport. No problem!

As the day of travel drew nearer, the implications started to become more real. The two Air Asia flights were booked separately, not as a connecting flight, so I wouldn’t be able to go through to departures. My resolve started to shake, but still, nothing I could do about it now. Economy rules all on a trip like this.

I got to the airport early – of course – with no hassles, getting a $2 minibus from Hanoi centre. I had to wait an hour or so before I could check in for my flight. Even then it was with crossed fingers. Air Asia, like a lot of budget airlines these days, have imposed a strict weight limit for checked luggage – 15 kilos. When I started out my backpack was about 14, now with extra purchases it was running at about 17. Luckily, in Hoi An I’d bought an extra-large day bag – almost as big as my backpack but looking deceptively smaller. Into this I deposited all my heavy things – my toiletry bag, loads of DVDs I’d been carrying around since Cambodia (wasn’t allowed to send them home from Vietnam, praise the communists suspicious little hearts), my Birkenstocks, all my books. I wore my heaviest clothes. I’d obviously guessed well, as my checked luggage came to 14.9 kilos. Result! I paid my departure tax, and wandered through to departures, looking to get something to eat and spend my last 50,000 dong (about $3). Heading up to the restaurant, though, I realised this would buy me one very small spring roll. The prices were shocking and the quality, I’m sure, would have been awful. Muttering in an old codger way, I gravitated instead to the duty free shops, where I bought a bar of Cadburys Dairy Milk big enough to see me through the night.

It was such a nice surprise to meet up with Jo and Hamish, friends of Doireann’s who I met in Hoi An, at the airport, and great to hear they’d be on my flight. They were great company for my last few hours in Vietnam, and we chatted the whole way through the (surprisingly comfortable) flight. Arriving at Bangkok, we went through Arrivals and I waved them off into the Thai night.

Knowing I’d have to settle down there soon, I did a recce tour of the airport to see what my options were. Not many, frankly. Rows and rows of plastic chairs, bright strip lights, and loud tv sets meant that I was unlikely to get much sleep. None at all, as it turns out. I bought some comfort food KFC, found an empty row of chairs, padlocked my bags to the leg of the chair, and stretched out. I managed about 2 seconds before I was wriggling about in pain and discomfort. I’d like to meet whoever designed those chairs and shake him by the neck. I’m sure they deliberately make them uncomfortable to sleep on. Whichever way I lay, I had plastic digging in my back or hip or neck. I also started to get cold. Pulling on my extra clothes and my pashmina, I shut my eyes against the fluorescent lights, and waited for the mercy of sleep. It never came. The next thing I heard was a screeeeeeeech screeeeeeech sound akin to nails being dragged down a blackboard. Eyes stinging with lack of sleep, I pushed myself up and looked around. A couple of cleaners, one with impressive striped hair like some kind of wildlife, were dragging whole rows of chairs to the side in order to mop underneath them, and then blasting the mopped areas with an industrial-sized fan. Working their way up the rows, they came and shouted at me until I moved. Stripy hair was the worst. Now I’ve never even considered murdering a badger before- but this was ridiculous!

I stumbled away to another area where, after a minute of the chairs, gave up entirely and lay on the floor. It comes to something when a cold, hard concrete floor is more comfortable than chairs. Sleep would not come to me that night. Eventually the airport started coming to life again. I had a breakfast of noodle soup, then waited at the start of the line to check in for my flight. A queue built up behind me, so I was incredulous when a man sauntered to the front of the queue and put his passport on the counter. Back in China mode, I knew he wouldn’t understand me, but would understand sign language. I told him where to go. No, potty brain, I mean the back of the queue.

The flight to Macau, though uneventful, was amusing just to witness the Chinese people approaching a plane in the same way as a bus – run for your life! Push your way on! No matter that everyone has a seat, guaranteed, what counts is being the first on. Laughing at this, I got talking to a lovely girl, Nicky, who was just heading home to the UK after 7 months on the road. I keep meeting people heading home, but right now the thought is completely alien to me. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when my time comes.

Nicky had done the trip in reverse 10 days earlier, and so was a good companion to have. We checked through the shiny new Macau terminal, and managed to get on a bus heading for the harbour. She pointed out the sights of Macau on the way, including my favourite, a casino inside a large plastic volcano. Classy! I was disappointed with the little I saw of Macau – I expected it to be a mini Portugal, one of my absolute favourite European countries, but instead it was just tasteless large developments thrown up with no sympathy for history or taste. New, yes, but good, no. Fortunately we got on a speedy ferry quickly, and were soon splashing our way towards Hong Kong at high speed; the journey only takes about an hour.

I can’t say how pleased I was to see the sun shining over Hong Kong. Just a few days earlier it had been battered by a typhoon, leaving hundreds of flights stranded; last time I was there it was overcast (I later learned this was from pollution). As we’d arrived in Chinese holiday week, the pollution had cleared, as had the typhoon, leaving scorching hot and sunny clear blue skies.

And is there anything better than landing back in a much-loved city that feels as familiar as home? My heart was skipping as we checked through, and I got my sixth stamp in my passport in less than 24 hours (1. Vietnam departure 2. Thailand arrival 3. Thailand departure 4. Macau arrival 5. Macau departure 6. Hong Kong arrival). Ignoring the “what country am I in?” feeling, I headed up to my hotel, arranging to meet Nicky later. We spent the next 24 hours revisiting the best of Hong Kong. I won’t go over them again (although I could, and gladly, but to save my fingers – just read my first HK blogs!) – but we went to the inspirational light show that night, ate more cheap and delicious noodles than I could normally eat in a year, and went up a miraculously clear Victoria Peak, this time getting the photos that were lost in the smog last time. Perfect. A great farwell not only to one of the greatest cities in the world, but also to Asia.

I was able to introduce Nicky to the best of Hong Kong Airport, with its free internet access and reclining seats. Funniest of all, though, was when she plugged in her hair straighteners and did her hair in the middle of a walkway, while I plonked myself down beside her. You know you’re a backpacker when…

Thankfully, my flight left on time, and I was soon entranced with Qantas’s miraculous in-flight movie system. I watched ‘Crash’ (brilliant! Watch it now!), and, full of food and happy reflections of Asia, managed to get an hour or two’s sleep before my flight landed in Perth. On to Australia, family, and a whole new continent.

Hmmm.  A tricky one, this. At the end of a month in Vietnam, I seem to have a different overall view of the country to most of my friends who were here at the same time. I don’t know if I’d say it’s been my favourite country in Asia – in fact, I’m sure I wouldn’t – but I still think it’s pretty great.  So many people are completely disillusioned with it that I wonder am I missing something but, you know what?  This is MY blog, for MY opinions (picture, if you will, me stamping my foot while I say that), so I’m about to offload them all right here.  

I still don’t know why the discrepancy is occurring.  A couple of people have had things stolen which, admittedly, would put a real downer on a place – I know a few other people who have been here in the recent past and have had things go walkabout, as well.  I haven’t, as far as I’m aware, had anything taken, so yes I’m probably lucky in that aspect.  A lot of people have issues with the scams, the hassles, and the bad attitude that tends to be around – especially around the tourist industry.  And yes, I have seen all these, and been at the wrong end of some of them.  But still, I like it here.  I don’t think I’m so stupidly optimistic that all I see is good in a place – in fact, cynicism is one of my worst faults – but I think that Vietnam deserves a chance.  And I’ve been in Asia for five months solid now, so I don’t think that it’s either naivety about the continent nor a honeymoon period.  My eyes are well and truly open, and yet I say – give it a chance.

My biggest gripe with Vietnam is one that’s entirely my own fault.  I don’t feel like I’ve got to see enough of the ‘real’ Vietnam as I have of other countries I’ve been to.  To be honest, I haven’t made the effort.  The tourist buses ply the well-worn route from north to south and vice versa, hitting the popular places, and nowhere in between.  This is so easy – and so cheap – that I’ve not tried at all to get off route, with the exception of going up to Sapa.  And yes, we were almost stung by an unscrupulous travel agent, but going to the train station proved how easy it is to get about under your own steam here.  I’m annoyed with myself, if anything, that I didn’t try to go it alone more often.

On the plus side, this has meant making loads and loads of new friends, and cementing some older friendships.  Because of the shape of the country (basically, long and thin), and the relatively standard time frames (here we get a one month visa, and most backpackers stay more or less the whole month), it’s very easy to meet people doing the same route in the same time as you.  Even if it doesn’t stay exactly that way, it’s likely that you’ll end up knowing people a couple of days ahead, and a couple of days behind you, and often overlap in lots of places with them – with most people converging at either Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi at either end.  I’ve made some legendary friends here, not only because they are sterling people in their own right, but also because the itinerary has allowed us to spend more time together than might have otherwise happened in a different shaped country.  God bless geography!

This has, of course, meant that Vietnam’s been a very sociable country, and some of the highlights have been nights out with new-found friends.  So, in a way, I guess I traded off a deeper knowledge of the country for friends.  And I don’t regret it one little bit (and I’m not just saying that because they’ll be reading this).  I couldn’t do it for much longer – after all I’m getting very old now – but thinking back to Vietnam will always bring a smile to my face.

Because it’s one of the more touristy places, and is getting very well set up for organised tours (not my cup of Vietnamese leaf tea at all, but each to their own), it’s one of the places I’ve visited so far that I would, without hesitation, recommend to people at home to visit.  It’s very easy to get around here and, as long as you keep your wits about you, is a safe place.

There are scams, of course.  Friends of mine experienced horrible bus journeys, we suffered at the hands of unscrupulous travel agents, too many things were stolen.  Unfortunately, it seems to be those in the tourist industry who are taking advantage.  This is horribly wrong and cynical – I have no objection to spending my money in a country, but targeting visitors is one sure fire way to stop them coming at all.  And yet – if I can be allowed to understand it without condoning it in the slightest – these people have, within the last 40 years, suffered utterly at the hands of a Western superpower.  They are still, by our standards, exceedingly, hideously poor.  So, presumably due to a combination of the two, they see us, no matter what kind of a low budget we are on, still able to afford both a passport and an air ticket to visit another country – beyond the wildest dreams of a lot of the Vietnamese people, for whom life is very much a day to day struggle.  Like I say, not condoning, nothing can excuse it, but perhaps understanding could help to change things.  Getting mad at someone who hassles you on the street (and I’m pointing the finger more at myself here than anyone else – I shouted at a cyclo driver who physically grabbed me to put me in his cyclo) will not, ever, change a culture.  What can be done?  I’m not sure, but I’m sure wiser people than me would have some ideas.

As well as meeting so many friends, there have been some memorable highlights in Vietnam that I will treasure.  Crossing the road through the insane traffic in HCMC and Hanoi and – miraculously – surviving.  The Easy Rider motorbike tour in DaLat.  Drinking in the lush scenery in Sapa.  Kayaking in the pouring rain in Halong Bay.  Best of all, though, was meeting the wonderful, welcoming family of tailors in Hoi An.  Not only did they make beautiful clothes (all arrived safely home now, thank goodness), but they welcomed us into their family in a way I’ve never experienced.  It was incredible and heart-warming and that shop remains my favourite place in Vietnam.  So was I just lucky?  I suppose yes, in one way, because I met them.  I have no doubt, though, that they would have extended that hospitality to everyone they met.  And I think that is the thing that makes me smile most.

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