After Myanmar, not too much else happened. I went down to Ko Phangan for a couple weeks of drinking and full moon parties, along with seeing friends and jet skiing. I then went to Ko Tao, a one hour high-speed catamaran away, did my Open Water Dive Course with a friend and then went back to Ko Phangan for another full moon party with Team Sweden. After that it was back to Ko Tao for my Advanced Open Water.

I then went to Bangkok to start my job at Nappark Hostel, undisputedly one of the best hostels in the world. It was one of the greatest weeks of my life. I could write about it for pages, post hundreds of photos and tell you countless stories but for the meantime I won’t, just because I can’t be bothered at this moment.

I also wanted to pop in and mention that I just booked a flight to Malaysia for November 15th- only $150!

Hope you’re all well wherever you are in the world.

Myanmar (Burma) Part 1

Myanmar (Burma) Photos

I quickly picked a place from Lonely Planet but as soon as I walked off the bus I was being asked to come with people to their guesthouses or if I needed a horse-cart (taxi). I heard someone say New Haven, which I remembered from Lonely Planet as the highest recommended place. I decided to walk up with him as it was pretty close but as soon as we got there I was told it was fully booked out. He was nice enough to walk me back to the bus station and direct me to my original destination. After 2 minutes of walking I was at ‘restaurant row’, a street in Bagan known as just that as it doesn’t actually have a street name, and decided it was best I get some food. I sat down at the busiest place (I’m such a follower) and ordered fried chicken wings, once again, and some Myanmar beer. After my food came the power went out, but fortunately I was prepared with my phone’s flashlight and continued to enjoy my meal until they switched on their generator (obviously not the first time it’s happened). I paid as it was getting late and went off to find somewhere to sleep.

20 minutes of walking later and I realized I was lost and just needed to find somewhere for the night. I passed a large place and got a room for $8. It was pretty bad, but at least the bedroom part of it was clean (don’t ask about the bathroom). I was happy to stay another night until I had the awful breakfast and found out that the toilet was completely broken. I spared their feelings and told them I was moving to the other side of Bagan, ‘New Bagan’, but that plan backfired when he saw me at the other place that night.

I rented a bike for the day (now 1500 Kyat when it was only 1000 Kyat last time Lonely Planet were there!), found a new place: Eden Motel, which is an old place but quite nice and the breakfast on the roof was really good, and started the 6km ride down into the heart of Bagan- ‘Old Bagan’. I’m not a very healthy or fit person so I won’t pretend I found it easy but I still managed and was soon surrounded by incredible pagodas. It’s quite difficult to put into words but Bagan is simply a compilation of over 4000 pagodas or temples, some very small with others huge, towering masses of beauty and history, 1000 years old. Just take a look at the photos and try to appreciate and comprehend this place. I saw just one photo at home and decided I had to visit Myanmar purely to spend some time here and I have no regrets in doing so.

I spent a couple days just cycling around, stopping to read on the top of the tall ones, take photos at the secluded and abandoned ones, and to eat, because after any amount of exercise Bryce gets hungry. I frequented the same place the entire time as they were just so nice to me, always bringing extra food for free and trying to talk to me. On my second day one of the girls even gave me a little toy Santa as a Christmas present. My only problem with Bagan was the vendors outside of all the big pagodas, trying to sell me sand paintings, books and lacquer ware. As always I appreciate being viewed as a wealthy businessman (in my old shorts, t-shirt and torn backpack), but how many 18 year olds alone in Bagan buy pottery to take home? However not all of them were that annoying, and they all still smiled back if you wouldn’t buy anything. There was one instant where a man took care of my thongs for me, moved my bike because it was in the sun and then showed me a reclining Buddha I would have missed otherwise, so I felt compelled and actually wanted to buy a book off him.

On the first day I met a really nice Slovenian guy, Martin, at the restaurant. After speaking for a bit we decided to meet up later that evening for dinner and beer. I watched the sunset from one of the pagodas with a Spanish girl and older Korean man (who ended up hating me- but that’s a story for another time) and then went back to town to meet Martin. We walked into a place but no one spoke English, so after a few minutes when someone came to translate and we were told they didn’t really have much food, we just had a beer and then went to find somewhere else. At the next place we had a little more luck, but I had a little too many chilies leaving me in agony for most of the meal. Wow, as I sit here writing this in Yangon on my last day, just waiting to catch a flight tomorrow, there’s some guy downstairs periodically yelling at the top of his voice in the street ‘Ahhhhyoahhaaraaayyy!’. He must think he’s a Pokemon or something. Anyway, it was extremely cold and getting late so we parted ways and I went to bed.

I woke up to a very nice breakfast on the roof, read for a bit (there’s really nothing else to do besides that) and then rode back to the temples for the day. Later that evening Martin and I had dinner again at a different place but went back to the previous night’s restaurant for their draft beer. It’s strange because even though it’s peak season, the streets were really empty. At times it felt like we were the only foreigners in Bagan, which is both nice and depressing.

The next day we went to the market to have a look around, where we also ate. Even though we both had almost identical dishes, mine cost double Martin’s for some reason- I’m assuming they hated me. It must be the beard. I bought some Burmese cigarellos, about 100 for $3, which I think will come in handy both as a gift and a source of extra money in Thailand. I said farewell to Martin and really did nothing for the rest of the day, which was nice.
At 6.15pm my bus came to pick me up and I was on my way back to Yangon. It was definitely not the nicest bus ride. The Burmese seem to have perfected the art of bus air-conditioning to such an extent that the entire bus is constantly freezing, there seems to be no way to turn it off, and the only way to combat it is to cover the vents with the curtain and wear a ski-suit. I left my ski-suit in Bangkok unfortunately, along with my dignity apparently as I sat there wearing 3 t-shirts and covering my legs with a small backpack. At the first stop at 9.30pm nobody spoke English so us 5 falangs just that there drinking tea, waiting for them to let us back on the bus. The next stop, at 12.45am (Why? Or at least let us stay on the bus and continue sleeping) was awful. It was the same place from the previous bus-ride TO Bagan, and I just sat there alone drinking the tea until all the little kids working there (the place is literally run by an army of 12-15 year-olds) crowded around me and were quite nice, eventually bringing me chicken fried rice. At 3.30am we arrived in Yangon (Why? Drive slower), and a group of us crammed into a taxi to save money and went to a guesthouse, where I am now. When we arrived, in order to save some money, a Polish couple (late 30’s I’m guessing) and I shared a double room, where we agreed that they’d pay $10 of the $25 cost and they could then sleep there for a few hours, shower and leave their bags until there flight this afternoon.

I’m going to wrap the post up here as I doubt much else will happen before I leave tomorrow morning as I’m exhausted and just want to get down to Ko Phangan to see everyone from home. I’ll definitely be back in Myanmar soon, but next time for longer (and ideally not alone).

Myanmar (Burma) Photos

I have a lot to write about Myanmar, so I’ve split it up into 2 posts. The second one begins with my arrival in Bagan.

There are many ways in which you can describe Myanmar (Burma); primitive, beautiful, untouched, repressive, confusing, but really the only way I can hope to explain it best to you as it really is like nothing that you’ve ever seen before. If I could have filmed my face the entire time I was there, the facial expression I wore would never change, from stepping out of the airport to boarding the plane back to Bangkok. It was an expression of complete and pure confusion. Myanmar seems to be a place where those things that you thought may never happen or could never take place actually do. I can describe to you the places I saw, the people I met, even tell you minute for minute how I spent my time there as I show you photo after photo, but it will be no use. It’s an indescribable place; unique in every single way.

I had to take my very first flight since arriving in Bangkok on the 3rd November, as entering the heart of Myanmar by land is not so easy and inevitably more expensive than flying. After the quickest flight of my life (40 minutes), I landed in Yangon International Airport and quickly went through immigration and customs. I saw two young people and approached them, asking if they’d want to split a cab into town. At $6 can you blame me? We walked past the entrance and out onto the street, as directed by Lonely Planet, and haggled until someone agreed to take us for $6 to the first place listed in Lonely Planet. We arrived and as they only had dorms, the two people left and I stayed as it seemed nice enough. I’m convinced the manager there hated me, as he didn’t even smile at my unfunny and predictable jokes, consistently ignored me and never even once smiled. I still took the bed and put my stuff down before going for a walk to try and change some money.

Money in Myanmar is a topic in itself. They have their local current, Kyat, which up until a few weeks ago could only be found by exchanging US dollars with people on the street and some stores or hotels (apparently banks will now exchange at a similar rate). These US dollars have to be perfect, brand-new, pristine, unmarked, museum-quality notes, or they will be rejected everywhere. Lonely Planet says this, forums say this, travellers say this and I am confirming this. It’s serious business. As it was already 7.30PM or so when I finally got my bed sorted, it was a little difficult getting money changed. I took $30 to the only place known to change money that late, a hotel I’ve already forgotten the name of (Central or Grand something) and got some Kyat. For guesthouses/accommodation and admission fees you will often pay in USD, but for food, drink and transport it tends to be handled in Kyat. It’s frustrating as a couple months ago it was like 1000 Kyat to $1USD, but because of peak-season and other variables, it’s now like 750-800 Kyat to $1USD, depending on how much you change. The walk from the guesthouse to the hotel to exchange money was the first time my face was in that state of utter confusion I talked about earlier. Not one foreigner on the streets in a capital city, more Indians and Muslims visible than Burmese, men wearing ‘longhis’ (traditional skirts), women and children wearing traditional cream-coloured face make-up, no-one trying to sell me anything, barely any restaurants; all this with the incredible Sule Paya temple in the background, glowing in the light as my facial expression reflected the complete strangeness of this place.

I slept like an angel that night and woke early the next morning for the complimentary noodles and mandarin breakfast, along with the instant coffee. Another thing about Myanmar: coffee is just a word used to describe what you get when you mix a satchel of ‘instant coffee’ with hot water. There are just a handful of places to get a real coffee in the country and those are apparently nothing special. It’s all about the green tea I guess as the only other tea is bad Lipton, people don’t seem to drink, and soft drinks are unbelievably expensive. This country does not make sense. I made the 15 or so minute walk down to the train station, where you can buy a bus-ticket up north to anywhere you’d like to go. In doing so I passed some depressing parts of town as well as about 5 cinemas in a row. Strange. I found somewhere that spoke some English and booked a bus ticket to Bagan (15,000 Kyat – $20), the main reason I was in Myanmar to begin with (more on that later). I would have to make my way to the bus station myself (45 minutes away) as I was alone and catching the new 7.30AM bus (in the past only later buses ran to Bagan). I cursed and went to change money and eat. With changing money I spoke to someone who approached me on the street. We went for a 5 minute walk and then I gave him/his boss the $100USD note. A minute later I was given a stack of 1000 Kyat notes, counted it a couple times to check the 75,000 was all there, and then started to leave. The changer began to follow me asking for a souvenir; some Thai money, maybe 1000 kyat or even Australian money, and eventually I just had to walk away. On the way back to the guesthouse I was approached by a couple different people trying to talk English to me to ‘practice their English’, and even if they did wish to do so for the right reasons, I was tired and hungry. I was also finding it extremely difficult to find food, so when someone outside a restaurant spoke to me in English I quickly went in and ate.

After a short sleep at the guesthouse I decided I should actually see Yangon. I walked up the street to Sule Paya, a very small stupa (temple) but still quite beautiful. I paid the $2 admission fee with a crisp $10 bill, and was given my change that I assumed was of a similar quality.

After a quick walk around the stupa and a taxi to Shwedigon Paya, where I paid a $5 admission fee, I found out that 4 of those dollars given in change were not new enough, and had to pay 1000 Kyat instead. Shwedigon Paya is an incredible place, representing 2500 years of Burmese pride and just like the country it rests in, indescribable. In the day it’s a bright, sparkling masterpiece, its size incomprehensible; at night a glowing reflection of everything Myanmar is: simple, beautiful, but really so much more beneath each layer if you just bother to look. I walked around it for a while, looking at the neighboring statues and buildings, trying to take it all in, and then sat down to relax for a little.

It was early and I really wanted to see it during sunset, as it became illuminated and the diamonds on the very tip can be seen. A young monk (25) came and sat next to me. He started speaking to me, explaining how he had been learning English at his monastery for a year and would like to practice and ask me some questions. We spoke for a little and soon his friend, also a monk, came and sat down. His friend showed me a manual/guide he had, with instructions on how to use Adobe Audition, a computer program for making music, as he loved to make music and wanted to learn how to do it himself. After a couple hours passed, the sun began to set and people flooded the complex. The monks showed me an area where you could see all the different colors of the diamonds, determined by where you stood. They then told me they wanted to take me for a sugar cane drink, so we left and walked down to one of the restaurants. Afterwards they wouldn’t even let me pay, which was just so strange and difficult to accept. We exchanged Facebook/email details even (strangest place in the world, no doubt), and parted ways. They understandably wanted a photo with me:

They invited me to come visit their monastery when I came back to Yangon, which I promised to do if I had the time. I went back to the only dinner place I’d found that spoke English and got some fried chicken wings and a hamburger as I really missed KFC, and then went back to get some sleep as I had to leave the guesthouse at 6.30AM if I was to make my bus at 7.30AM.

As many of you know I’m a huge idiot, so after hitting snooze at 6AM, I woke up at 6.30 in a panic, packed my bag and rushed downstairs. I found a taxi, negotiated with him (if I was going to miss my bus I may as well save some money), and rushed to the ‘highway bus station’: A hilarious small town filled with repair shops, restaurants, cafes and a huge array of different bus companies. The taxi ride there was just as funny, with the cab driver being quite young and having a flashing stereo system set up, even with his own remote, playing old commercial house music as we raced past other cars. We found the bus and I boarded with a few minutes to spare. I was sitting next to an older Burmese lady and presumably her two daughters. They were extremely nice, unable to speak a word of English but constantly offering me snacks and smiling. That’s the thing. Burmese people as a whole are really the kindest people I’ve ever met. I’ve met some amazing Thai, Lao, Vietnamese and Cambodian people, but with Burmese, at least the ones you have daily interactions with, they are all just so kind and friendly. There is no desire to rip you off, no real backhandedness. Most are subjected to such awful lives by a government they know nothing about, but yet they seem to be the happiest people in the world. Sadness seems to be an emotion that never made it to some parts of Myanmar, and while I don’t doubt that it exists, the people will rarely let you see it.

After a few hours we stopped at a massive bus stop, where again nobody spoke English and I walked into the crowed restaurant and sort of just sat down, clueless but careless. Some kind people sitting near me realized I was confused and yelled at the waitresses to come over and try helping me. I just said chicken, knowing that if anything they may understand that word, and was given several dishes and asked for a couple dollars. I ate what I could quickly and hurried out to the bus as I had no idea when it would leave, and didn’t really feel like being stuck at a bus-stop in the middle of Myanmar, void of a soul that could speak any English. We stopped a few more times during the ride and at 6.30PM we finally arrived in Bagan.

To Part 2

Cambodia Photos

I’ve been in another 3 countries since my last post, so I’m sorry for being so late with this update. I just arrived back from Myanmar (Burma) today after spending the past week there.. I was so confused and I suppose it was the first time I really felt uncomfortable in the past couple months, but after a couple days it was okay. I’ll talk more about that a couple posts from now. Below: Japanese guy smiling.

When I left you I had just finished up in Vietnam and had made my way to Cambodia with the Swedish guys. We took the bus from Ho Chi Minh to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, which went quite well with the border crossing being quick and the bus ride tolerable. On the bus we met a young Austrian girl, who we followed to the hostel she’d booked at. We got our beds and the Swedes and I went to withdraw money and find dinner. In Cambodia everything is in USD, with small transactions/change being given in the secondary currency Riel, so it was extremely strange to actually know how much money we were spending, as opposed to having to do on-the-spot conversions all the time.

After a walk down to the lakeside, we realized it was going to be expensive so Erik and I bought a chicken (a dead one I promise), and had that instead. Obviously we were still hungry and got some incredible beef skewer nearby the hostel. How did I know it was beef when the lady didn’t speak a word of English? She started flapping her hands above her ears and saying ‘Moo! Moo!’ Oh, Cambodia. We met up with the Austrian girl and her older German friend and they joined Erik and I for some beer down by the lake. $1 large Angkor draft beers are made extra special by their price, but the German guy said we should have gone to another place where they were just 50 cents each.

Afterwards he decided he wanted to take us to a ‘hostess bar’. There’s a street with probably around 30 of them all bundled together, and you just choose one and go in. As you walk into the seemingly quite bar, you’re approached by around 40 beautiful Cambodian girls wearing practically nothing. This is a sophisticated strip club my friends. You pay around double for drinks, and its expected that you buy the ladies a few drinks too. In exchange you have about 8 girls surrounding your table flirting with you the entire night. I looked at it as a good opportunity to get out all my sarcasm because even though they don’t understand they still laugh. At one point the girls started putting the beer stubbies under Erik’s and my t-shirt, trying to make it look like we had boobs, and then started squeezing them. Oh, Cambodia. They were very insistent we take them home with us (the girls, not the stubbies), but $10 is a little out of my budget and we were staying in dormitories. And I think Jewish law prohibits prostitution so I was just trying to do the right thing. I have morals.

The next day team Sweden and I went to Phnom Penh’s haunting S21 Museum and the Killing Fields. Won’t pretend like it was a fun day, but it did feel a lot like my visit to the concentration camps in Poland a few years ago. It’s pretty surreal to see the exact same thing, knowing that it took place 30 years after the Holocaust and once again, no one raised a finger. As Pol Pot decided it was time for ‘Year Zero’ in Cambodia and began to wipe out every single intellectual and put the others to 15 hours a day of cruel unpaid labor, the world stood by for the millionth time in history, and as a result millions of people died for literally no reason. I decided I’d be the exception and not take my camera to the killing fields so I could take photos of people’s bones and skulls, but I do have a couple photos I took on my phone of the area, just to show how such awful events can take place in such a beautiful piece of countryside. It really was the holocaust all over again.

Phnom Penh is boring otherwise, so we left that day to go down south to Sihanoukville, where we could relax for a few days on the beach. It’s a nice place but I did feel it was very crowded and nothing too special. The beaches were small but the water was so still and beautiful. At night we went down to the beach to a bar called JJ’s Playground, and a few days later went out on a day booze cruise ran by the car for the full moon, which was very fun but I’m lazy so I was tired after a couple hours. What I did love about Sihanoukville quite a bit though was the staff at the place we stayed, Sokkom Guesthouse. They had the cheapest food we could find so we hate pretty much every meal there the entire time. The main receptionist and waiter, who we called SHIRT (as he always wore a shirt), grew to love us as we’d sit down and scream ‘Shirt! Shirt! Get us some burgers!!!’ Back in Ho Chi Minh at dinner one night they gave us free garlic bread, so we had a running joke from then on that wherever we went we’d ask for free garlic bread. On our last day Shirt finally gave us the free garlic bread after I negotiated with his boss. It was a small but significant victory for Team Sweden.

We left Sihanoukville after 4 days as we were hungover, tired, and in a rush to get to Bangkok on the 14th so I could meet up with Matt and JJ (friends from home), who were flying in late that afternoon. On the way we stopped over in Siem Reap to see the incredible Angkor Wat and neighboring temples, intricately constructed of stone thousands of years ago. How it all still stands in such incredible condition and with its true details is a mystery to me. The night bus over to Siem Reap though was terrible, as I became incredibly sick and could barely move. When we finally got to our place, Jasmine Family Hostel (highly recommended) at 6am in the morning, I got some drugs from the pharmacy (visiting a South East Asian pharmacy is an experience in itself) and went to bed for the entire day. I felt better that night so we went to have dinner at the guesthouse restaurant where we met SHIRT #2, otherwise known as Mr. Kunn, who we had a lot of fun with also. We played some ABBA like always and then went back to our room, where we met a young Dutch girl staying there.

The next morning we had a 4.30am wake-up so we could get to Angkor Wat in time for the sunrise. We paid the $20 entry fee (there goes a day’s budget) and joined the huge crowd (see the photos link above for some photos of the massive crowd at 5.30am) to watch the beautiful sunrise. As the temple reflected in the water it was really something special. Afterwards we walked around Angkor Wat for an hour, trying to comprehend its size and awesomeness. As we left we were hassled by the many vendors, who have each given themselves a memorable name. I’ll tell you a couple of these names; Lady Gaga, Harry Potter, James Bond, Spider Girl. Seriously. Lady Gaga was really nice so I put a bottle of water off him and some t-shirts for the girls at the Bangkok hostel from his friend.

We had our driver take us back for breakfast and then went back to see the other temples. We got along well with him too:

At one of them we became friends with a police officer, Nan, who funnily enough became our tour guide for the next two hours, taking us around all the temples and taking photos of us. He told us how the police at the temple only make $75 a month working full time, which is just retarded. A dishwasher makes that in just half a day’s work in Australia. You may say he was just saying that for money but he’s a police offer and can’t really beg, we asked him to join us, and when we tried to give a few dollars as a thank-you afterwards he really didn’t want to take it. Some more temples were seen and then we went back for lunch and to relax at the hostel.

The Dutch girl from the previous day came back from teaching and I forced her to take us on the town for dinner and drinks. We visited a pop-corn/beer place, Temple Bar and finally the famous Angkor Wat? Bar, so we could get our free t-shirts with a bucket. I bumped into another Dutch friend back from Halong Bay and some Argentina guys I’d met in Na Trang, which was all really good. We all had a late night, including Erik having his phone stolen by a prostitute, drinking with Tuk Tuk drivers on the street and having mango with chili sauce.

The next day Team Sweden and I were off to Bangkok to meet Matt and JJ, and then off to Myanmar. Before I finish, a photo of us with new shirt:

Will post about Myanmar when I get internet again.

As I was walking to catch the sleeper bus from Hanoi to Hue (down South), I bumped into an English guy I’d met back in Luang Prabang. After talking with him for a bit we both agreed that we were looking forward for a change of scenery and perhaps the chance to see a different side to Vietnam. At the same time he introduced me to a few Swedish guys he had met on his Halong Bay cruise, all of whom were 19, and it’s always nice to meet other younger travelers so we hit it off and all boarded the bus.

During the bus ride I realized that I actually had barely any time left in Vietnam if I planned to spend a week in Cambodia and still be back in Bangkok on December 14^th. The Swedish guys were on the exact same schedule as me so we agreed we’d all skip Hue, stay on the bus for a further 4 hours and go to Hoi An. In the morning when we arrived in Hue, we all got off for a moment and then the Swedes lost their seats so we were split up, them in Hue and I on my way to Hoi An. Fortunately I was still with the few English people I knew back from Luang Prabang, so when we arrived in Hoi An, we walked into town and found a place to stay for the night.

The city is made up of purely tailors, restaurants, travel agents and hotels. There are over 300 tailors in this small city, so needless to say 10 minutes after arriving I was getting some pants and shorts made. The next day they were ready and extremely cheap to have made, considering the quality of them. There isn’t much else to do in Hoi An. John (the English guy) and I went down to the beach that day, and whilst it was nice to see a beach for the first time in a while, it was cold and far from beautiful. Afterwards John and I found a few places where they sell 15 cent glasses of draft beer. Cheapest beer in South East Asia.

Later that night John, the two English girls we were with and I went out for dinner, and then across the river to a place called Aussie Bar, which featured me as the only Aussie. We played a little pool, had a few beers with some others at the bar and then went back home, whilst it poured down during a thunderstorm so great that it flooded our street- lovely Vietnam. I should note that immediately that day we’d noticed a change of attitude in the locals. They were extremely friendly, less annoying and went out of their way to make sure you were enjoying yourself. For example, after dinner we walked up a street trying to find the market. 10 minutes had passed and we heard someone beeping at us. It turned out to be the girl from the restaurant who had spent 10 minutes looking for us because I left my $2 in change by accident!

The next morning we woke up too late to join one of the cheap tours to the My Son ruins- the remainders of the Cham Empire or something like that, so we had to organize a private one ourselves. This meant spending $7.50 each on a private minivan, as well as the $3 entry fee, just to walk around in confusion for a couple hours. It’s sad because when you’re there you can only imagine how beautiful My Son would have been 50 years ago before America decided to destroy it in a seemingly pointless war. Check out the photo of them with the bomb- it was awkward because we knew we weren’t meant to smile but Jon related it to a penis… so we did.

We walked around it for an hour or so and then went back as I had to pick up my clothes from the tailor and catch the bus with Jon to Na Trang, a place famous for its beaches, which really aren’t that great at all.

The night bus to Na Trang arrived at 5am, which is quite inconvenient when you can’t check-in to your hostel until 12pm. Jon and I dropped our bags off there and found somewhere open to have breakfast. We later headed to the beach, which was an experience in itself. You literally never get more than two minutes of peace, with vendors approaching you in an attempt to sell you anything from alcohol to bracelets, massages to marijuana. If you do intend to have a few beers, it’s essential to make a deal with one of the girls so that she gives you a large discount in exchange for you buying your drinks exclusively off her for the day. With the others, in an attempt to have them leave us alone, we would start talking to them about pointless subjects, try to sell them our cigarettes, beer and fruit, and at times even ask for their love and devotion. Our record was 5 separate vendors at once- I’d only go back to try and set a new high score. Not much else to say about Na Trang. We went out that night to a bar called Why Not?, where I tried to sell my services as an internationally-acclaimed promoter, but only scored a free beer. The people were a lot nicer there too, especially the staff at the hostel, Backpacker’s House, with my friend there even giving me a dragon fruit as a farewell present!

I left early the next morning to catch a bus down south to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), as I wanted to meet up with those Swedish guys back from the bus out of Hanoi. I was with a couple guys I’d met in Halong Bay. It turned out we were the only Westerners on the bus, which was actually half full, instead of the usual ‘over-flow, sit on the floor’ situations we’d been having before. It’s actually hilarious with these buses because every time they try and make the foreigners sit at the back of the bus in the shared seats and on the floor, even if the bus is empty. You just need to basically ignore them and just sit wherever you want until they get physical. The bus driver and his friends decided to play a joke on us and try move us to a small public bus instead of our own, constantly laughing at us for playing along. I watched some Vietnamese Pop videos at the lunch-stop, which was enjoyable.

After a long bus ride we finally arrived in Saigon, where I was reunited with the Swedes after a sad few days apart. We found a guest house where we were shown a private 5 person room for us 4, with fridge, bathroom, TV, free breakfast etc. She told us $6 a night but she felt adventurous so we told the lady that we wouldn’t pay more than $5 each a night. We started to leave and she finally gave in, as long as we wouldn’t tell anyone how much we were paying. We became quite good friends with her though.

We found a place later that night with $1 beers and $2 buckets, where we could also choose the music. Needless to say, a night of me playing ABBA for them as they begged me to turn it off took place. Photo of the Swedes and me at dinner below.

The next day we planned to go see the Viet Cong tunnels, but with the tour starting at 7am we had a repeat of the My Son day, and missed the tour. Our only option was to get either an expensive taxi there or catch the public. We caught the public bus. 2 hours and 25 cents each later we had no idea where we were, no one spoke English to us, and we were hot and tired, so we spent another 2 hours getting back.

A productive day. Afterwards we got dinner, where again we were bombarded with people trying to sell anything and everything. We decided to play along and every girl who came up with a huge stack of books, we’d ask that they find us Lonely Planet Sweden. An impossible task. Some would just say no, others would run off for 20 minutes on the phone and come back almost in tears, but at the end of the day they all learnt their lesson. Don’t mess with an Australian and 3 Swedes.

We woke up early the next morning to catch the bus to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I’ll continue with that next post.