Ho Chi Minh in Ha Noi

OK, so I got to Ha Noi — albeit a little later than I had originally planned — and now I am in Sa Pa (or Sapa).

Apart fom berating myself and feeling stupid, I spent my down time between flights thinking up an awesome blog post about missing flights. Then I landed in Vietnam and suddenly I didn't care any more.

What an amazing place. So much history, nationalistic fervour, and so much traffic!

Ha Noi isn't as big as Bangkok, but it feels like it is. Every square centimetre of space is covered by something: people, motor scooters, chickens, people trying to sell you chickens or rides on motor scooters, and posters of Ho Chi Minh.

I've been fascinated with communist states since my socialist teens back in the 80s. That's right kids, while your parents or big brothers and sisters were out teasing up their hair or buying Bon Jovi tapes to play on their Sony Walkmans, I was dreaming of running away to Moscow or Beijing.

I never thought that the fist communist country I would visit would be Vietnam almost 30 years later.

It's all here — stylised propaganda posters, the hammer and sickle along side the yellow star, and statues of Lenin only outnumbered by those of Uncle Ho.

I went to see Uncle Ho. Perfectly preserved (in appearance anyway) behind glass and six armed guards. A two minute shuffling glimpse fom about ten feet away, after queueing in the Ha Noi morning sun for an hour and a half.

Good experience, but I didn't walk out and run around to join the line again...

Now I'm in Sa Pa. The far North of Vietnam, near the border with China. A sleepy mountain town where tourism is the main trade.

And I do mean trade!

More to come ...

D.

Missing you ...

I have a new tag line for AirAsia:
It's only cheap if you catch the flight!

More on this later. Must go — can't afford to miss another flight.

D.

Tonight is my last in Bangkok. I knew three months would go fast, but it really does seem as though I've just settled in and now it's time to go.

People keep asking if I'm coming back — I hope so. At least for a holiday if not to take that job that Expedia offered me — oops! [backspace]

Of course, I still have a whole month of travelling to do through Vietnam and Cambodia! But I have been weighing up the things I'll miss about Bangkok, and the things I have begun to miss about home.

Brisbane — things I miss

1. My family (including Roxy, the dog), and especially my boys. We raised our kids to be independent, but that doesn't mean I don't miss having them around!
2. My friends at the Brisbane office. This is the first time in seven years that I've worked anywhere apart from the Brisbane Wotif office.
3. Being able to give someone a hug. I never know what the protocol is here, so I just resist the urge.
4. Being able to drink water from the tap.
5. Being able to hold a conversation with strangers that consists of more than "hello", "how are you", and "goodbye" (which is the same as hello).
6. Being able to order a meal in English, and know what I'm getting.
7. Blue sky.
8. Footpaths.
9. Being able to cross at a pedestrian crossing without checking for traffic.
10. Rubbish bins.

Brisbane — things I don't miss

1. Roxy's hair on every surface of my house.
2. Taxi fares.
3. The lousy public transport.
4. Boring food.
5. The Valley.
6. Shops that close at 9pm, or even 5.30pm!
7. Actually having your bag checked when you go through customs.
8. No daylight savings.
9. Not having my own pool and gym.
10. Today Tonight.

Bangkok — things I won't miss

1. The heat.
2. The smell of khlongs and drains.
3. Worrying that I don't have enough money on me to bribe a policeman if I need to.
4. Wondering which part of the animal that crunchy bit in my mouth was.
5. Dog poo down every soi.
6. Begging.
7. Saying "not want" to every second person as I walk down a street full of tuk-tuks and bars.
8. Dividing every price I see by 30.
9. Copping an eye- and throat-full of chilli vapour as you walk past a street vendor.
10. Having to go to Starbucks to get a decent coffee.

Bangkok — things I will miss

1. My new friends. Wherever I go in this company, I meet warm, welcoming, and generous individuals.
2. Being able to smile at almost anyone without starting a fight. A beautiful country with (mostly) beautiful, friendly people.
3. Being able to fly to the other end of the country, or even overseas, for $50.
4. Eating lunch for a dollar.
5. Catching a moto-taxi to work every day.
6. Living five minutes' walk from anything you need.
7. Shopping at 7 Elevens.
8. Soi dogs.
9. Markets.
10. Cool bars and restaurants.

Sawasdee khup, Krung Thep. Thanks for having me.

D.

Phuket, let's drive!

In the words of Winnie the Pooh, this is a long story, and even longer when I tell it.

Driving in Phuket seemed like such a good idea. It's not Bangkok, the traffic isn't crazy, crazy, crazy (just one level of crazy) and my hotel was only about 1km down the road from work.

There's a work vehicle, so if I crash it, the worst that can happen is that Robbie keeps my salary for the rest of my life, and I get a job cooking muffins in the Brisbane office full-time.

As it turned out, the driving to-and-from work bit was fine - it was on Sunday when I decided to head to the shopping centre I'd read so much about on Phuket.com - Phuket Central Festival - that I got myself into trouble.

It looked pretty straight forward on the map - head down the main road the hotel is on, turn right at some street I can't pronounce, which runs into the street where the giant shopping centre is. I'd been past it before as a passenger, so once I got my bearings I'd be fine.

I did get to the shopping centre without any serious drama, although I ended up driving in through the service entrance at the back, rather than the main entrance like a normal tourist. I still don't know how that happened.

I wandered, I shopped, I had a latté (can someone please tell Thailand what a flat white is?) and I decided at 12pm that it was time to make a move back to the office to drop the car off, so I'd be back at my hotel in time for my 1pm airport transfer.

What I hadn't noticed on the way to the shopping centre was that some of the streets were one way (it's hard to tell over here OK?!). This meant that I couldn't simply follow the same route I'd taken to get there. I had to deviate.

No biggy - I figured that I'd just follow the signs to Phuket Town (where the office and hotel are located) and I'd recognise some roads, and David wouldn't have to sit in this little car for over an hour hurling abuse at the town planners of Phuket.

That's where I was wrong.

Every street I drove down, I would come to a point where I thought, "oh, I know where I am", and dutifully take the direction my brain told me was correct. Wrong. After 35 minutes, I ended up back at the shopping centre. So I followed the same route again, only this time taking care to drive what I envisaged would be parallel to my original route. Wrong.

At one stage, I even got back onto the road that the office is on! There was much joyous singing and celebrating in the confines of that little car (Jazz never sounded so good!) as I drove down Thepkasatri Road. But alas, the party was short-lived, as Thepkasatri Road turned into Phuket Road and I drove down the same street I had been in three times already.

At last, after dodging left where I had previously veered right, I found myself a mere 20-30 metres from the office, and at about 1.30pm I locked the car and raced to the office foyer to return the keys to the weekend CS staff.

Naturally, being a Sunday, the elevator was away visiting relatives down the coast, so I had to run up four floors to get to the front door. My Phuket swipe card would not let me into the office, because this was a secure workplace on the weekend, and I had no business there.

By this stage, my nerves were a little frazzled. I couldn't help thinking about my driver who may, or may not, be waiting for me at the hotel 1km down the road.

I rang the doorbell which summoned one of our champion Phuket Customer Service staff, whom I have never met before, and who no doubt was wondering why this farang was ringing her doorbell on a Sunday when she had work to do.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the keys and handed them to her with my swipe card saying - in my best Thinglish - "For Khun Tasnee". She nodded and repeated "Khun Tasnee". I thanked her in Thai, and exited the building as fast as I could.

This was about the time that I discovered that the proliferation of taxis and moped taxis in Thailand is unique to Bangkok. I walked (very quickly) all the way to the hotel without seeing a single taxi, or person who might be cajoled into giving me a ride.

I got to the hotel, asked if a driver had been for me and they said no. The desk staff offered to call me a taxi for the airport, to which I heartily agreed.

As it turned out, taxi here referred I think to a friend or family member who owned a car. When he arrived at 1.50pm, the driver asked me what time my flight left, and when I told him 3pm, he gave me a look and said "you not much time". I couldn't have said it better myself.

He was very nice, and we chatted all the way to the airport about his family and my family and what it was like living in Bangkok, which is where he was born.

At one point he asked me "OK I speed?", and used the internationally recognised hand signal for pushing the accelerator flat to the floor. "Sure, if you like." I'm not sure if that word choice would get me off on a technicality in court or not. Sean?

To cut this long story short:

• I arrived at the airport and stood in line to check in - my flight was delayed by almost an hour so there was no real rush after all;
• traffic from the airport in Bangkok was terrible so I sat in a taxi for about an hour and a half listening to Thai talkback radio;
• I arrived back at my apartment only to find that I couldn't get in because I had given the wrong set of keys to the smiling CS staff member in Phuket;
• I had to mime leaving keys in Phuket and not being able to get into my apartment to the security guard;
• I had to explain leaving keys in Phuket and not being able to get into my apartment over the phone to the building manager who speaks no English;
• I had to wait for the caretaker to let me in with a master key;
• I then went to bed wondering how I was going to lock my front door when I left in the morning.

And all because I decided to drive in Phuket. Next time I'll walk.

D.

PS. I received a very nice email on Monday morning from the airport transfer company apologising for not being there to pick me up at 1pm, as they thought my pick-up time (and not my flight time) was 3pm. I told them, no harm done - don't worry about it.