The Hill(s) around Sapa

Yesterday I spent the day trying to avoid people who were trying to sell me stuff. Today I figured the best way to do that was to get out of town on a motorbike.

US$3 and a borrowed helmet later, I was on the road out of Sapa on a brand new Honda 110 scooter, to a place called Silver Waterfall, further up the mountain.

This is beautiful country! Green, lush, rice fields, rural families driving oxen, as I wind my way up the mountain.

Both Lee and Lisa will love hearing that I rode past a snake crossing the road at one point - I didn't realise what it was until I was pretty much next to it - passing within about 2 metres of my foot. I have no idea what sort it was, but it's head was the wrong shape for a python. Sorry I wasn't able to get a photo for you...

I could see the waterfall before I got there, falling down a sheer mountainside next to the road. The scenery was beautiful. The roadside hawkers and sellers were everywhere, and I even had to pay 10,000 dong to park my bike on the side of the road. Presumably, this was protection money, as everyone was trying to flag me into their spot. Not sure what would have happened to my bike if I didn't pay the 50 cents...

After walking halfway up the waterfall on a set of concrete stairs with a handrail that was falling apart in places, I went further up the road to see Tram Ton Pass, or "The Gateway to Heaven". Described as breath-taking in the guide book, I didn't want to miss it. Instead I almost ride straight into it.

As I headed on from the falls, it had started to rain - just drizzle really - but as I got to the top of the pass, there was so much fog and cloud that I could only see about 10-12 metres in front of me. When you're scuba diving, that's annoying. When you're riding a motor scooter on a wet and windy mountain road in North Vietnam, it's just plain scary!

Knowing the regard truck drivers took for sticking to the right side of the road, I decided no view - if there was a view in this fog - was worth the risk, so I turned around and went back.

Instead, I rode to the other side of Sapa and saw more rice fields, planting, and glorious views down the valley.

If you can put up with being hassled to buy things every 5 metres, Sapa is a beautiful place.

D.

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.

In KL's palm

As you fly into KL you see what all the fuss is about. Palm oil plantations, next to freshly bulldozed fields waiting for more palm oil, almost as far as you can see.

Palm plantations on the way from the airport

KL seems a lot more structured than my short-term home in Bangkok. The streets and highways are wide and well-serviced, traffic flows, even when congested, and they have a new "smart tunnel" — helping to relieve traffic congestion into the city, but when the heavy rains come, they stop the traffic and the tunnel doubles as a way to drain water out of the city so it doesn't flood. Smart tunnel indeed!

An almost empty street?

There seems to be more money here — I could be wrong, but the impression I get here is that people are a little better off than their neighbours north of the border. Things cost a little more — or if you go to the mall at the KLCC towers, they cost a *lot* more.

KLCC Towers

But I guess that slice of wealth, or piece of prosperity has to come from somewhere. For Malaysia, some of it has come from saying no to rainforest, and yes to pulp mills, and paper and palm oil plantations.

I fully support the work of groups like the Australian Orangutan Project, who are fighting to stop the loss of native habitat for orangutans in Malaysia and Indonesia. However I am also aware of the hypocrisy of people from Western, developed countries, who live lives of relative ease and luxury, telling these nations what to do with their natural resources.

They just want what we've got, and what we've been selling them for the past hundred years or so. Work hard for us, and you can have a house and a fancy car too. Build our transistors and electronics and one day you could have an iPhone.

After all, we sold off all our natural resources to get what we wanted didn't we? In Australia, we still are. Why shouldn't they be able to do the same?

Of course, there are very good arguments as to why they shouldn't, but until we come up with an alternative — a better answer than simply do as I say, not as I do — then I'm certain that Malaysia and other countries will continue to sell off what they can't replace to buy what we tell them they haven't got.

D.

Walk the talk

As any first year communication student knows, there's more to communicating than just words.

There are cultural differences I'm uncovering here that go beyond language and the way we talk. It's in the expressions, the attitudes, the non-verbal sounds, and even in the way we walk.

For example, it took me a little while to realise that my Thai friends weren't making fun of each other in a conversation when they responded with "Errrrrr. Ehr, ehr." They were agreeing with what was said. Similarly, anyone who who has socialised with a group of Thai people will recognise that "Oiiiiiii!" has nothing to do with 80s punk music, or that annoying "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!" anthem.

In Australia there's a look, combined with a posture and a defiant walk, which you adopt when a car fails to stop at a green "Walk" signal or pedestrian crossing. It's a look of righteous indignation; a purposeful "how dare you!" to the driver of a one tonne vehicle who should know better, and is clearly in the wrong.

Now take exactly the same look and posture, in exactly the same situation, but on the streets of Bangkok, and its meaning is completely different. It means "I'm a stupid farang." Repeat the non-verbal communication a few times in quick succession, and it can come to mean "I will be availing myself of your wonderful healthcare system shortly".

These non-verbal messages can work to your advantage. I think I've become fairly good at not looking like a tourist. Those who are familiar with my loud shirt collection may disagree, however there's definitely certain non-verbal cues you can adopt if you don't want to look like a sucker, and I am willing to share my insights with you here, gentle reader.

A work colleague recently mentioned standing in public looking at an open map as a dead giveaway. This, along with the loud Hawai'ian shirt and camera around the neck, are obvious clues - so obvious I'm not going to mention them. Whoops, too late.

Of course there are times when you want to be a tourist and enjoy the new experience, but if you'd like to be able to walk down the tourist strip (or out of the airport) without being accosted by tuk-tuk drivers and people expounding the joys of table tennis exhibitions, there is a walk and an attitude that you can adopt.

Start with a lack of eye contact and don't look at your surroundings. Even if you've never been to this place before, look down at the ground where you going, or better still, straight ahead. Pretend you're walking home after a long day at work, and all you want to do is get home.

You can comfortably glance at the things around you as you walk, but your walk is purposeful. You're not browsing at the Sunday markets (even if you are actually browsing at the Sunday markets), you're headed somewhere.

There's no need to be rude or aggressive, it's more an attitude of boredom. Act like you've been here a thousand times before, and are just on your way through once again on your way somewhere, so not really looking to buy any Viagra or Sponge Bob Square Pants items today. The non-verbal message you're sending is that anyone wanting to sell something is better off approaching the couple behind you arguing about whether it really was Tiffany at that last stall, and that even if it was Tiffany, you still could have talked him down a bit more.

I have survived many forays into markets, airports, shopping centres, and unlit alleyways with this method, and have lived to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop me from buying a lot of crap though.

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.

The good book and anarchy on the streets

He who hesitates is lost.

It says that in the "good book" somewhere - I can't remember where, but I'm sure the Lord was trying to cross a street in Bangkok when he said it.

I discovered on my way to the office this morning that even a pedestrian crossing doesn't mean that you can cross the road without dodging traffic. I say dodging, because if I'd waited for a break in the traffic to cross, I'd still be standing there.

Another saying you might apply to the roads in Bangkok is "The rules are, there are no rules!" Motorcyclists without helmets, cars turning in front of other cars when they're tired of waiting (as opposed to having right of way), motorcyclists going the wrong way down the street, motorcyclists riding on the footpath ...

But no-one seems to care. The lack of a system works, because there is no system. Everyone knows there are no rules, so everyone's happy. It's an anarchist's dream.

There are police though. They direct traffic here and there, though even they don't seem to bother when a random motorist flaunts the rules or turns when he hasn't been waved through. Though the guide books tell us that it's one thing for your locals to go whizzing around without a helmet on, or piling their family of six onto a Vespa, but if the paisty tourist tries it on, they might find themselves slapped with a fine.

And fair enough I think. You don't want every half-wit Aussie who's ever wanted to tear around the streets without a helmet on and four of his mates on the back of a Honda turning up to your country, do you? Oh - too late.

Here's my random Thai fact for today, which I learnt studying a wonderful website called www.Phuket.com: It's very offensive to show your feet - or to do anything other than walk or stand, with your feet - I already knew that. But because of this, it's drastically offensive to stomp on a 1000 Baht note that you've dropped and is flying away down the street! Why? Because like all Thai money, it has a picture of the King on it! And showing disrespect to the Thai Royal Family is a crime.

A little different from the stuff we throw around about Charles, Camilla, Fergie and the rest of them.

D.