...Shit-anoukville

We'd been forewarned about Sihanoukville's Ibiza style vibe, tacky western shops and hastle-y beaches, not to mention the sex tourism. Shunning the notorious Serendipity beach and unimpressed with the 'town' we resolved to find our own beach in a national park.... We set off in glorious sunshine, pack lunches wrapped and proceeded to circle Sihanoukville, soon realising that we really did need a map. This was soon supplied by a bemused concierge at an out of town posh hotel. After battling some rather testing inclines on the Cmabodian motorway we arrived at park head quarters, met with beautiful photo's of paradisical and more importantly deserted beaches. After paying national park entrance fee and being reassured that the ominous cloud in the distance was nothing to worry about, we headed onwards. Within minutes, we could see a monsoonal wall of rain approaching. Optimistically donning anorak and glasses and heading the wardens advice, we blindly battled on. Quite literally. When it got to the stage that we couldn;t see or control the bike, we turned back, the thought of the beach rapidly losing it's appeal. After completing what has to be the scariest moto drive ever; rivers, unrelenting winds that swpt us off the road and bruising rain, we consoled ourselves with and irish coffee as we sheepishly ate our picnic lunch amongst the Noah's ark scene unfloding outside. It was clear the monsoon had arrived. We resolved to leave the following day, the idea of Ireland hoping into Thailand rapidly diminishing. It was at this rather sorry moment that we met the hunting shooting gap yarrrr brigade. Inevitably leading to endless socio-political debates which left us banging our head on a brick wall. We were soon, much to our surprise, rescued by a friend from home and all headed off to a beach club to celebrate her birthday. With three hours sleep and the remnant of neon paint we jumped aboard what was to be one of many buses to Bangkok.

Crabs in Kep

Eager to escape the city, our destination were Kampot and Kep; two seaside villages famed for their fresh crabs. From the grapevine, these were Cambodia's up and coming hotspots- one of those get there before it's too late places. After a grand tour of each and every guesthouse, we settled on a friendly irish haunt, complete with crazy golf, pool, table football, communal TV and the friendliest staff imaginable. On the recommendation of our guesthouse manager, we set about on a push bike tour of the slat flats and neigbouring vicinity. Not having learnt from previous experience, we were still without head gear, again underestimating Cambodia's sun, a force that even factor 50 couldn't reckon with. We again continued our policy of blind perseverence, two hours later. we found ourselves at the next town- kep, which we weren't intending on visiting for the next few days. Beautiful though it was, we realised it would be another two hours back and with the both of us already reddening (crimson) we began to consider hitch hiking.
Keen to explore as much as possible of the beautiful landscape, we changed tack and mounting motorbikes took to the bumpiest dirt tracks that frankly our funky city motorbikes just couldn't handle. Not to mention that R's moto was rather temperamental and took to stalling at the most inconvenient of places. We were occupied for days - red soil, lush green grass, blue skies and palm trees reflected in the vast salt flats, local villages, cloud topped mountain peaks and the sea.
Having oogled the photo's of a luxury resort our manager had visited and blostered by our now extensive driving experience (ahem) we set off down the motorway, economically sharing the bike in search of this hidden gem. The infinity pool and jetty, from which Vietnam could be seen, didn't dissappoint. Kampot really was one of those places that you can't help but linger, as a result there was a real expat community, into which we were welcomed and as such we got to know the local hangouts. Epic cafe- amazing banana chutney and porridge...and snagged our first guardian in months. The rusty keyhole, a recently relocated restaurant situated in the owners home- despite being in the middle of the countryside, thanks to it's hospitality was always full.
Forcing ourselves to move on and with time ticking, we got a tuk tuk to Kep where in the midst of some epic negotiations we bumped into the guesthouse manager and girlfriend who like us were destined for the tranquility of rabbit island. Upon arrival we realised it really was a Robinson Crusoe desert island and after a couple of days of not much other than good food and relaxation we headed back to the mainland and on to Sihanoukville.

Angkor Wat, Phenom Penh and Battambang

It was such relief crossing into Cambodia; the atmosphere instantly changed and we were bawled over by the broad grins and waving children. Fifteen mintues in, at a stopover canteen, the waiter took pity on our plin rice order (new country, new attempt at budgeting) and to our delight arrived with a complimentary dish of greens. Wouldn't happen in vietnam.

With it's saffron robed monks, wats adn wide sweeping boulevards, Phnom Penh felt like returning home. After checking into 'okay' guesthouse- it was indeed mediocre. We soon aqcuainted ourselves with a local moto driver who became a friendly face and companion around the city. Big up Call. First stop Harres guest house for an impromptu visit. To our delight he was home and we eventually located him and D was reunited with her ipod (Thanks mum! Kudos for the technological aptitude) We spent the evening catching up with beers, cards and pool lessons with Call and H.

The next day, in search of a more authentic breakfast, Call took us to a local market where we tried a mix of pastries and a coconut based porridge. We then took in PP's sights. A central Wat and the Russian Market- a hot smelly (hello Durian) notoriously over priced market. intrigued byt he smoking baskets, it was here that Call introduced us to a Cambodian delicacy of steamed snails with chilli and lemon grass.

En route to Angkor Wat, leavin PP unexplored for our return visit, we decided it was high time we got off the beaten track - something we sorely missed in Vietnam. unfortunately the notoriously bad transport links meant timewise we had to abandon the adventurous East, so heading West, we spontaneously hopped off the bus early in Kampong Chnang. Stepping off into a random dusty town, we suddenly realised we really had no clue what this place was or indeed if there was anywhere to stay. After reassuring a local policemen that yes we had meant to stop here and no we werent going to Battambang, we congratulated ourselves on being rather intimidatingly off the tourist trail. Our now epic miming skills proved fruitful and two amused moto drivers took us to we're pretty sure KC's only guesthouse. Passing through, to our delight we saw gangs of children, horse drawn carts and bemused faces. Keen to continue our adventure, we battled the searing sun and on push bikes headed, somewhat blindly to a floating village we'd got wind of. After accidentally starting a bidding was between two boat drivers, we precariously made our way accross thin wooden walkways- of course effortlessly manoevered by the locals- and were navigated through a shanty like community of floating brightly coloured huts. Though mostly one room, true to Asia, most were complete with Satellite TV and ghetto blasters. Twenty minutes in, under the concern of the local ladies, totally baffled by our lack of headgear- never had a Vietnamese hat seemed so appealing, We dashed back, feeling a little sun stroked.

After recooperation in the shade and lunch in a local canteen we spent the afternoon cycling around the town, stopping in a little roadside coffee shack. Our enthusiasm for getting off the beaten track waned a little thanks to the lack of any type of cooling device plus unsafe ice and warm drinks rendered us incredible hot and sweaty despite the fact it was 6 pm. It wasn't as though there wasn't any electricity- the ubiquitos cambodian music videos were blaring (we can now singalong...1,2,3,4 ...uno dos tres QUOTROOOO) reverting to classic overheated behavoir, we guzzled fizzy drinks by the gallon and munched our way through crackers and crisps. Despite resolving that we couldnt possible eat again, we found ourselves back in the canteen, braving the unlit streets on our bikes by 7pm. Sitting down, Shock horror, we set eyes on another Barang, turns out he hadn't quite made it to Battambang after underestimating Cambodia's roads and overestimating his biking skills. The next morning after insisting on sorting the bus tickets out ourselves direct from the bus station (normally a good idea) we found ourselves stuck at the staion for 3 hours, under the unfaltering gazes of the now increasing crowd of Cambodians. Whilst trying to order our optimistic takeaway breakfast, 3 American aidworkers came to our resuce,providing a translator who secured us an omelette in a takeaway box. After learning a little more about their projects we set off to see whether we could wrangle a seat on an earlier bus...no such luck.

it is with pride that we recall our arrival at battambang, with super speady efficiency, we secured our cheapest accomodationi Cambodia and within minutes were on the back of a moto and headed for 2 local sites. firstly a quaint bamboo train whihc hurtled through an area of countryside unchartered by road, squeeling as calfs and squirels jumped off the tracks just in the knick of time..

after this we embarked on a hike up to a beautiful monastry now infamous for its caves used as a killing site and mass grave during the khmer rouge. As you descended inot the caves thousands of unidentified skills were earily displayed an experience made all the more haunting by the tales from our guide and his family. These stories struck a chord and sparked an interest in the period and its cuurent implications.

Next on our our whistlestop tour was Siem Reap, major tourist destination and home to Angkor Wat. At our lively hostel, we made friends with a dutch girl and set about coordinating a 3 day temple tour- the main aim of which was to avoided the dreaded templed out syndrome. That evening we went to the temple to view the sunset over Angkor Wat, along with apparently every L.P and Rough Guide reader. Only during the ushering out process did any of us actually locate Angkor Wat- shamefully dissgracing ourselves as we loudly prolaimed...'Oh theeeere it is'.

That eve had a low key evening on the rooftop bar in anticipations of the 5 am start to catch the much acclaimed sunrise over Ankgor Wat. The morning didn't take off to a promising start when awakened by our Tuk Tuk driver we realized we'd slept thought the alarm and consequerntly missed the unusaully early sunrise. further grumbling was brought about by the realisation D had lost her memory card. Adding insult to injury aftre feverishly stumbling around Angkor Wat, R had to return home somewhat placated by the fact that she hadnt chundered all over one of the nine wonders of the world, levaing D and Steffie to continue the tomb raiding alone. With Rs steadily rising temperature and Ds terror after the overzealous travel nurses diagnosis of malaria, we set off (driiven by a malarial tuk tuk driver) unwittingly to SRs most expensive medical facility. Met with uber aircon the effect of paracetamol finally becoming evident typically R perked up whilst D tried to make up for the extorionate medical pill by pilfering vast quantities of the complimentary tea. Doused up on large quantities of antibiotics and painkillers R ignored the doctors advice and we continued with pahse two - our evening temple programme with a 4th member in tow. met with such a beautiful site we couldnt understand the hype about yesterdays must see. the four of us hit the streets of SR; whist strolling throught the night market found oursleves at a cinematic viewing of a doco covering the rise of the khmer rouge regime. sunrise attempt number two was much more successfula and whiule D had a lazy breakfast and relaxed at angkor wat, R and Greg retraced the path of yestrdays missed temples.

arriving back to 'okay' in PP, Rs insistence on ignoring doctors advice took its toll and found herslef bedridden, held hostage by a resident mosquito, watching awful 80s movies. As R was delivered a stack of toast by a concerned hostel staff, D, off duty from her fantastic nursing, met up with Steffy and got to know PP a little better. unfortunatly this included unwittingly being bought breakfast by a self confessed murderer, whown as keen to improve his karma. no joke, aftre accidentally running a thai man over he reasoned rather than pay his hospital fee he may as well reverse and finish the job...needless to say the buffets' abundance fo yummies didnt quite sit so well. spent the day revelling in some shopping and happy houring in a posh rooftop bar. Continueing on the food front, with Rs new found intolerance to asian food, we indulged in our first stint of western food - heavenly bagels in an airconned arty cafe and mexican food.
As R slowly recovered we immersed oursleves in the culture PP had to offer; Call endlessly carting us about between geneceide museum and killing fields, filling us in on Cambodias khmer rouge past and presnt through his personal stories.

The following two days Call took us to a orphanage on the outskirts of PP; we were pleasantly surprised to find a really nice environment, complete with volleyball net, basetball hoops and a recently donated play area. aftre playing with the kids we soon found ourselves conducting an english class, coming up with alphabet games and trying to discipline them - we were soon in awe of the resident teacher a fellow traveller and volunteer.
Exhausting the cultural exploits PP had to offer (art galleries, documentary screenings etc) and tiring of the city, it was time to hit the road again!
the orphanage

Saigon stairs and the Ho Chi Minh Hustle

Determined to find the cheapest accomodation available in Saigon, we set off down a sufficiently dodgy alleyway after being evicted from our first choice (over an inexplicable and uncomprehendible commission fee, payable to whom wasn't clear) Fatigued and pissed off we settled for an equally cheap room...on the 6th floor. That evening unimpressed by the pricey bar scene, we stumbled accross a nearby park full of locals playing tic tac toe, after watching for a few minutes, we attracted a crowd of vietnamese students keen to practice their english. Found ourselves discussing everything from Hamlet, manchester united, and gender/relationship etiquette, plus got an impromptu history lesson from a Vietnamese war veteran. On our way home we decided to embrace all things vietnamese and sampled the nu rave coloured rice and vegetable pudding concoctions. Not advisable. The following morning we set about packing in Saigon's tourist sights, an amazing war museum, a rather ridiculous reunification palace and Saigon's legendary market known for its designer knock offs. After R narrowly avoided an assault from an overenthusiasitc sales woman ( only asked the price!) and D got hysterical over a
Jimmy Choo bag we decided it was time to retreat to the food stalls - best and cheapest food in Vietnam.

Keen to continue our cultural exploits, we embarked on a tour to the Cu Chi tunnels. the rushed 6.30 am start, confounded by a stream of nightbuses and late nights rendered us somewhat intyolerant of the overly chirpy tourguide, who despite our attempts at feined sleep and ipod appearances proceeded to spend a good hour talking at us in a heavily accented hysterical manner. Having unfortunately bagged the front two seats, we had to endure this until the obligatory handicapped handicraft pitstop when we strategically swapped seats. The tour itself, in which we got to crawl through (the albeit widened) tunnels reinacting how whole guerilla communities lived underground during the war. Much to our guides glee, a guy who loved anything explosive and or dangerous, we were herded through the endlessly creative booby traps devised for the americans. Simple yet effective was the mantra. The day was made all the more amusing by his tales of childhood explosive exploits...

One of the craziest experiences in Saigon, a city full of surprises, was the simple act of crossing the road - made Hanoi look like a breeze. We thought our school tesco-run training would stand us in good stead, we thought wrong; after hesitating at the side of the road for more than a pregnant pause, an wizened old woman took pity and herded us across. a ahndy hint from both our guides was to simply step into the road a preceed slowly as the traffic swerves artound you, we took particular heed to cuchi guides gleeful you run you die...

That evening per chance we bumped in to D's work colleages in one of the city's side alleys. Perfect cover to excuse ourselves from a newly acquire religious fanatic we'd encountered at the war museum. Lovely bloody jubly and an interesting chance to swap gap year tales.
After a day mooching around the city, we treated ourselves to a little luxury and all glammed up (ishh) we took much pleasure in directing our taxi to Saigon's exclusive Sheraton hotel to watch the sunset over the city from the 23rd floor cocktail bar. We had prepared oursleves in advance for the monumentally priced drinks, but much to our delight, after spending ages agonising over the menu, the waitress directed us to a happy hour section. Thoroughly enjoyed our one and a half cocktails and the views. for good measure we asked for refills of our complimentary nut plate and pocketed the cocktail stirrers and novalty items. Score. On our way home, good old facebook informed us that the Norweigan boys were in town and miraculously we managed to regroup- despite the lack of mobile phones and best efforts of the extraordinarily incompetent hotel clerk.

Not wanting to leave Vietnam without sampling the deep south, but with only a day to play with, we settled with a somewhat less adventurous but nonthe;less crammed daytour. thankfully the overly chatty cuchi guide was otherwise engaged and we piled into a crmaped minivan with a truckload of asian tourists and thankfully somewhat more sedate guide. Having stopped off yet again at our fav handicapped handicraft pitstop and a quick boat ride across the delta we arrived at our first island. here tourguide piped up with his microphone and proceeded to provide unintentional entertainment. he had a spectacular ability and penchant for repetition, it was as if he took the phrase 'tell em what your gonna tell em, tell 'em it, tell em youve told em' a little to literally -picture the translator scene in lost in translation - the corresponding vietnamese took all of 2secs. activity number 1 was a honey tea and banana biscuit tasting sesh made all the more amusing by our resident vietnamese granny siphoning off the ridiculously strong (esp given it was only 10am) 'banana wine' much to her daughters dismay. this was randomly folowed by a photo opportunity with a python; more complex than you would imagine - holding the snake's head at a compfortable distance from your neck amid visions of strangulations whilst not squeezing it too tight/ provoking it AND tryiung to pose. tyra banks eat your heart out. (unfortunatly due to Rs broken camera and D loosing her memory card we no longer have the photos to prove it..)
Next we had to endure some rather shrill local singing along with a fruit tasting sesh (now realising our hasty 6.30 breakfast was rather unnesc). We also got to try the infamous Durian - a fruit that has plagued our entire journey. For those of you that havnt witnessed this shocker it is the ugliset and smelliest fruit imaginable (of exotic rhol dahl proportions). so potent it's banned on the bangkok metro and taxis. weve since learnt that it can have a drug inducing effect making its rampant popularity in SE Asia a little more fathomable...

Activity number 3 took us to a coconut sweet making factory (D heaven?); on our boatride across to the 'cocnut island' we were told about the legend that is Mr Coconut. We eventually established that we were indeed dealing with, no not the founding father of a coconut region, but a coconut religion. Top dog aka Mr Coconut, who seemed a bit of sketchy character; had not only 9 wives btu encouraged women to worship in the nude. He also insisted his followers consumed a coconut based diet only and didn't leave the island. Or at least this is what we derived from our tour guides rather lengthy lecture on the matter. The coconut sweets themselves however, were uber tasty. Pleased to report no Mr. Coconut or His nude worshippers were to be seen.

The highlight of the trip had to be an idillic longtail boat trip with the mangroves, blue skies, plamtrees, locals going about their daily lives on the water ways - us learning the joys of a vietnamese coned hat.

After lunch, yet more tofu (ubiquitous veggie option), we embarked on a bike ride around the mangrove forests. This fairly standard activity sent our tourguide into a near breakdown, insisting that we all ride in tandem, he warned that if we were not adequately experienced on a bike, now was not the time to learn. That said we did manage to lose one group member much to the concern of our group and irritation of our hysterical little guide as he now herded us onto a ship back to the mainland.

We spent our last evening in Saigon feeling very Vietnamese, drinking Bier Hoi (30 cents for 2 litres), being scolded for playing (we now know illegal card games) and playing pool in Saigons answer to a sauna. Teary farewell to the boys as they headed to Bangkok and us to Cambodia.

FIIIISSSHTAAANK!!

Unfortunately our trip to Nha Trang and Mui Ne coincided with a major Vietnamese holiday, being two major destination points, literally half of Vietnam descended on these coastal resorts meaning big bucks and big crowds. undeterred, we were determined to have our big night and so after a brief vorspeil (!!) at our room set out in search of free buckets. By our second bar and under the over enthusiastic direction of a newly acquired English friend we settled for a fish tank, which boasted a variety of spirits but failed to mention the principle ingredient- ice cubes. Attempts at pool disintergrated and somewhat worse for wear we headed for the local club. With varying degrees of success we arrived, E in an epic fandangle with the power tripping bouncer, D indignantly continuing to don the anorak after a sneaky capture from Steeley, the latter of whom for no apparent reason was on the back of a motorbike. Needless to say much fun was had...

The following morning, nursing our hangovers we attempted to order breakfast in a local cafe-come-limo showroom- some with more success than others... with visions of an english brew, hotly anticipated after a seemingly successful negotiation with the waitress, D, was not impressed with the cold, bottled, green, tea...with milk on the side. Unlike everyone else at the table.

In anticiaption of some good old dirty fun, as promised by the lonely planet, we set off to Nha Trangs mud baths with the mayhem of Vang Vieng in mind. As we arrived it seemed every Veitnamese family had had the same idea and after being presented with the 'menu', dreams of mudfights soon vanished- we realised we'd got the wrong end of the stick. We soon embraced the highly regimented approach to mud bathery which involved the six of us wallowing in an awkward shaped bath full of watery mud. Picture the two of us plus the four lads dubiously watching the mud level rise whilsts trying to fit all our limbs in - made for 6 westerners it certainly was not...needless to say testostorone kicked in and steely ended up fully submerged with the vietnamese atendent unamusedly pouring ladels of water overhead. The next challenge was to get the mud off - not easy in a large comunnal shower packed with vietnamese men. The programme continued with a series of water 'experiences'; an eextremely and uncomfortably hot lpunge pool followed by jet spray track inot whihc you were packed, accompanied by a suspiciousy peey smell and much too many people. By the time we'de got to the 'waterfall' all a bit watered out and hungry, the 30degree 'swimming pool' was no longer attratcive especailly after Patrick had accidentally wandered inot the kiddies pool...not pleasant.

After saying our farewells to a fellow jungle beacher we and the two norweigen boys boarded the routine nightbus to Mui Ne. we were met by an uncompromising dictrator of a conductor who assigned us totally randomised seats ona deserted bus ruining our epic card game plans. on hearing a disgruntled grumble from the group he frantically began shoving A off the bus, but after shameless grovelling and an extensive ego massage, we said our farewells and departed for our seperate ends of the bus. After strking a deal with other disgruntled tourists we relocated and preceded to spend a frustarying hour endlessly circulating NT as the bus slowly filled..
With yet another 4am arrival we stumbled along MNs one neverending road and eventaully hailed a rare and impossibly small taxi. After stuffing it to 3/4 full with our bags we piled in; R, D and E vertical in the back seats with A pulling the short straw and lying horizontilly across us, feet out the window.

While making a plan for the day we'd been forwarened about the an important premiership match which was to be missed under no circumstance. This in mind we split up; the boys lingering in the vicinity, us managing to get bambozled into an extorionate ride to MNs famous sandunes. whilst it was a massive expanse of sand - a massive expanse of sand it was. The much anticipated sand boarding turned out to be little more than plastic sheets on a shortish slope - seen better in norfolk mate...By the time we'd arrived at the more exotic red sand dunes, it was dark. Not wanting to prolongue the humilitation, we prematuirely ended the trip and headed home for the hotly anticipated (!) match. Embarked on our laddiest night yet, with pool (attempts), darts, football and beer and then wined and dined at a beachside eatery. The combination of hilarious typos (grilled sally anyone?), even more absurd service (at one point our waiter sat down with us while he took a phone call - mid order..) and general banter made this our favourite place in Mui Ne - as the night drew to a close and we were the only guests left, the friendly waiter not so subtly motioned it was time to pay and leave. Keen to continue the night we headed for Mui Ne's one and only club. As we entered, we heard the roar of 'i'm a wizard'- we later deduced that if you drink your height in beer cans and then tape them together into a wizards stick... Wax indeed defines you as a wizard. After a couple of beers we conked out on the beach under the stars and unwizarded decided to call it a night.
Next stop Saigon.

Jungle Beach

Whilst on the nightbus some guys (boys if you're reading, big X) mentioned they were going to an eco resort that we'd heard word of on our travels. it being a 4am drop off, we ahd to decide pretty sharpish whether we wanted to go. Our sense of adventure reawakened, in a true D and R decision making sesh - we decided were in. After being shaken awake we stumbled off the bus on to the dark and seemingly deserted highway. In true vietnamese style, five moto drivers suddenly materialised and after futile attempts at bargaining, we jumped aboard. Feeling very top gear we rode five abreast through the vietnamese countryside, clasping our helmets and cowering behind our drivers as each vied for first place. After a brief tour, we were left to sit on the beach and watch the sun rise and have a morning swim. By day break, with tummy's rumbling, we decided it was definitely time for breakfast, despite the 6am clockface. Wondering through the coconut palmed gardenswe sat down for our first communal meal where we met other early rising guests.


Most our days were spent on the beach, a vast expanse of white deserted sand, shallow turquoise waters complete with back drop of mountains and rustic bamboo shade makers. With warnings of Vietnams hottest sun from yesterdays lobster-like burn victims and the boys penchant for competitivie sport, we swoon realised this would this would be no girly sunbathing session. Manning up, we embarked on epic games of water volley (ahem catch) and a serious tournament of volley ball (with much disputed and enforced rules and regulations) Needless to sa, we girls effortlessly and tirelessly ballsed up each adn every attempt at a game plan... By the second day, having exhausted the ping pong table, 'surfing' and various beach games, the boys appeared with a dubious looking pudding shaped 'boat' with the nightwatchmen running behind them. After establishing that this undersized boat definitely wasnt water tight they rematerialized several moment later with a larger model, still worryingly made from woven bamboo. Needless to say, as the three boys enthusiastically leaped in, the boat sunk, simultaneously unleashing a hoard of ants. This in conjunction with the incoming tide of jelly fish put an end to our sea fare for the day. Confined to the shade for much of the day, Most of our time was spent with the moose cards and president estlishing itself as the favourite game (unfortunate for D as she found herself the unrivalled bum). After another fantastic communal meal, ignoring the everpresent tide of tofu and aided by the much loved Chil-e sauce, we were craving something sweeter. After exhausting the intriguing miscellaneous column in the honesty book, we realised wer would have to fend for ourselves and set off on a tuck mission along the beach eluded to by the amused vietnamese cook. With headtorches in tow, we navigated ourselves through the local vilagers' fishing area. eventually, amid stares and points we stumbled across a collection of dusty shops. And, under the direction of the eager shop keepers and held hostage by a pack of mental dogs, we went a bit nuts and proceeded to buy half the shop. When we arrived home to 'our lounge', a somewhat colonised common room we inspected our purchases; lobster infused crisps, chocolate cigars, coconut peanuts, wafers, oreos, bottle of red wine, chubachuba, and chocorolls- star item with no chocolate to be seen, cheakily half filled with creramy shit not to mention the worrying merry millenium emblem on the packet. After some quiet nights of bonfires and mid night swims the next morning we all clambored into a hideously expensive mini van and music blaring, set off for Nha Trang- the Vang Vieng of Vietnam.

Hoi An

As ever the vietnamese nightbus didnt go 100% according to plan -

though we been repeatedly reassured that after a 17 hour bus journey the stop over in hue would only be 10mins - of course it ended up being 5....24 hours later we arrived in Hoi An and immediately secured our plushest accomadation yet (thankyou white sheets and plasma screen).

We'd been forwarned that the town was majorly touristy given its reputation as the best place to get anythign from clothes to shoes to bags custom made. despite the hoards of tailor shops advertising 'boyfriend blazers' and western orientated bars...we totally fell in love with the place. (perhaps not surprising after greyer hanoi and hue). By nightfall the towns streets and river were lit by colourful paper lanterns and fairylights and as it was the weekend, openair theatres and music sprung up making an enchanting atmosphere.


After a delicious seafood meal we made use of the various happy hours and set out in search of the lonely planets' recommend nightclub - king kong. at first we'd thougt we'd missed it, indeed it turned out to be a small room dominated, filled almost intirely by a pool table - we duly made friends with the two other guys there, embarking on a game of pool and an old fashioned chat. after several games, in which we invariably potted as many white/black balls as the ones we were aiming for.(the free shots didnt help) with the hope of king kong eventually filling up dashed by about 1am - we decided to check out Beach Bar. lakcing better judgement we climbed onto the boys'mopeds and after a near collision with a lampost (R this time) and a shaky moment on a sandy road, we arrived at a somewhat fuller club. embarking on some epic table football we soon found ourselevs chatting to some brazilian guys who lived in danag, an hour north, and played for the vietnamese 'soccer' team. by 3 a'clock, tired freom our night bus, we decided to call it a night and caught the somewhat safer free night shuttle home..



the following 2 days were spent, eating deliciuos food and being totally overwhelmed by the endless possibilities that custom made tailoring presented. (turns out the whoel process is really very stressful!) by the third day, a little shopped out, we rented bicycles and explored the more rural riverside community and then 5k out to the local beach - our first in 2months!! While debating what to do with valubkles and how to circumnavigate the extortionately prices deck chairs, we bumped into the brazillian guys (to whiom money wasnt so much of an ish thanks ludicris football wages) and got some wave action with body boards.



on the final morning enchanetd with hoi ans culinary delights we decided to learn the tricks of the trade and embarked on what turned out to be a cooking course for two.