Tomb Raiding with the Two T's

So, bright and early, we assembled in the lounge ready to hit the temples.  The guides on our tour were so clever.  They could remember all the names of the temples, who built them, when they were built and which deities they represented. Sadly, I could not retain all the information but I did appreciate all the fine carvings and structures built so long ago.  

Some other things struck me with awe.  Elephants.  Real ones today.  The last time I sat on one of those, I was a toddler at Belle  Vue Zoo.  I can still remember that.  It seemed so high up.  It still looked high now.  Well, it would.  I haven't grown that much since those days.  I considered a ride but I didn't have my big sis to cling on to and Hubby wasn't keen.

The Elephant Parade wasn't the only thing to attract my attention.  A family group of monkeys played by the track.  One little fellow seemed to be in the bad books.  His mum kept boxing his ears.  His brother meanwhile kept us amused with his monkey bar antics on the rope.  Mrs Monkey affectionately picked nits and things from her husband's body.  Ah, a reminder to check Hubby tonight.

Just down the road, an enormous pig was snuffling around on the ground.  All on her own.  No friends.  No owner.  A proper Billy No Mates.  

Achieving a photographic masterpiece was my aim today.  I managed a couple of mirror shots by a large puddle in front of a temple.  Not quite on a par with Hubby's Highland Loch achievements but not bad.  Frank and I almost achieved a unique Tourist on a Kebab shot.  We had been particularly annoyed by this lady.  She constantly jumped in front, just as we were about to shoot.  Unable to throttle her, we decided to poke her in a way that would not hurt.  If anyone out there has the computer skills to slightly adjust the point, I would be most grateful.  

I misunderstood which temple we were at.  I thought this was the famous one where Angelina Jolie had filmed 'Tomb Raider'.  It might have helped if I had watched it beforehand.  Grabbing Nathan, I gave it my best pose.  Sadly I did not have my best leather trousers with me as I feared they would perish in the humidity.  I think Angelina may have a rival!!

The sky decided to cry, so we hopped back into the bus to go for lunch.  This place would not reach the World's Best Restaurant qualifying rounds.  Without air-con, the next best things were a few token fans.  I was wet and wilting.  Orders were taken.  We waited and waited and waited.  The meals trickled out.  By the time most of us had eaten, three still hadn't received theirs.  One of them was HUBBY.  Our guide came to Collect us.  We explained the problem and he went to talk to staff.  Hubby decided he was no longer hungry but angry.  He went off muttering to look round the store.

The wet weather dampened his spirits further until Tania suggested he used his regal powers to stop the rain.  Believe it or not, at the exact time he said it would happen, there was a break in the downpour.  Not only were we able to get our photos, the bridal couple at Angkor Wat got some good shots too.  

Frank was still in amusing photo mode, putting his umbrella in a variety of places, including up his nose.  Tania remonstrated and asked him to be serious in the next shot.  He was.  She wasn't, making bunny ears behind his head.  

This incredible temple was built on several layers.  We were only allowed fifteen minutes to climb the steep steps to the highest level, walk around and descend.  My efforts at The Great Wall and other spots finally paid off.  No need for the resuscitator today.  My camera clicked madly and I arrived back at the stairs to make my descent.  

The rain was falling heavily.  The steep stairway was slippy. (Note the use of alliteration for effect).  On Hubby's advice, I came down sideways.  If any film producers were watching, I was open to offers for a part in their next movie 'The Human Crab'.  Tania must have wanted a part too as she followed the same posturings.  As for Jemma and Pam,  their descents followed a unique 'a..e about face' motion.  But we all landed safely.  

Avoiding puddles on the way to the bus, was the definition of impossibility.  Shoes, socks and, in Nathan's case (sigh) t-shirt, were soaked.  Even the heavily pregnant Frank was dripping but he had kept his 'baby' (camera) dry!  Nothing else for it.  Back to the hotel for hot showers and Happy Hour!!!  

As I prepared to enter the shower, I was horrified.  My feet were black and blue.  Was this a delayed DVT?  I shouted for Hubby who laughed.  What was funny about my anguish?  He had realised it was just dye from my footwear.  In a huff I scrubbed and rubbed.  The feet were clean but my toe nails remained blue.  I looked like a half Goth.  I wanted to wear my best sandals.  My man had the answer.  With a tooth brush and Oral B's whitening best, he produced ten sparkling nails.  What a star he is sometimes.  Just don't tell him.  It will go to his head.

Now, whether it was the drinks imbibed or just our Happy mood, the conversation became a little risqué.  We were exchanging unusual phrases common to our countries. Jemma came out with one which had us bemused but her fellow Australians were in stitches.  We could not understand why someone was spankng a primate.  Of course, once explained we were all hysterical.  This led to my performance of a naughty ditty which I learned many years ago.  Whilst at college, a certain policeman, who shall remain nameless, ( oh, go on then, it was Colin) gave a brilliant performance of this song.  It has remained in my brain ever since.  After several cocktails or glasses of wine, I may just be persuaded to repeat it.  However, Lord David decided it was time to retire before I produced any more songs from my vast Rugby repertoire.  With aching sides from laughing and a happy heart, I floated into oblivion. 

Paradise Found

Aha.  We had a good night's sleep.  Our shower was scalding hot with no alternative temperature and the hair drier didn't work.  But, hey, we were leaving today and we had been far luckier than those with the crunchy cockroaches scuttling round their rooms.  Bit of a rethink needed here on the part of the tour operators methinks or a total makeover.  

The ever-smiling, ever-joking Mr Smee arrived.  Today's opening joke went something like this - 'So, today I leave you after two months.'  'You mean two days,' I piped up, thinking he had made a mistake.  'No.  You come in September.  You leave in October.  Hee-hee- hee!'  You had to smile.

Unable to accompany us inside, he delegated the lead role to Hubby.  This could have been a disaster but he led us through check-in like a pro.  The airport at Phnom Penh was quite small, so left little opportunity for anyone getting lost 

here.

I was in need of the rest room.  Whether it was the food, water or recently commenced malaria tablets, my tummy had been a little out of sorts.  Not bad enough to dive into the closely guarded 'just in case Lord David spots another distressed female' Imodium, but needy enough for keeping pockets stuffed with toilet paper and an eye open for western toilets.  So, after using the toilet, I pressed the handle.  Nothing.  I pressed the handle again.  Still no joy.  Looking around, I couldn't see a secret flushing device.  Would I have to hang around until I was sure the washroom was empty before sneaking out?  Would I have to miss my flight.  I tried once more.  Nothing.  Annoyed, I flipped the handle up. Result.  So remember ladies, if you are ever at Phnom Penh - it's an upper not a downer.

Did you notice earlier that Hubby has a new name?  Happy Family Frank re-christened him, after watching me tie his shoe laces in a servile manner.  He took to his new position very well, adopting a Royal air and accent to the amusement of Happy Family.  This confused our new guide, Ny (pronounced knee) on introduction at Siem Reap.  We thought he had arranged an upgrade at the aptly named Paradise Hotel as a result of our status.  Later we discovered everyone had the same high standard.

We were not allowed time to wallow in our new surroundings.  Just ten minutes to apply suncream. bug stuff and lip salve before heading out to visit temples. I was struck by the intense heat and humidity immediately.  As much as I wanted to listen to Ny, my main focus was finding some shade.  I tried to squeeze myself into any spot, just to be covered.

Two of us found a grand space.  Ahh.  We were swiftly moved on as it was the King's main entrance.  He didn't need it.  The bus loads of Chinese and Japanese visitors who had arrived, needed to pass through.  Complete with large cameras and iPads, they smiled holding up their fingers in the sign of peace and clicked.  Everywhere they leaped in front of others.  Queuing was not on their vocabulary today.

By now the heat was thirty-five degrees and rising.  Lord and Lady Clough decided they were templed out and opted to remain on the bus.  It had started to rain.  Umbrellas were handed out to the hardy Australian six.  They had barely stepped outside when the Heavens opened.  Bravely the carried on as buckets of rain beat down on them.  Lord and Lady C looked on in admiration.  Leaping over newly created puddles, they reached their destination.  They didn't stop long and looked like competitors in a wet T-shirt competition on their return.  The United Nations Conference on the bus decided to abandon the remaining temples in favour of Happy Hour.

Needless to say, we were ready for a shower.  Hubby could not resist a little dressing up game.  He wound his dressing gown around so that he looked like a Buddhist monk.  He just needs to shave the remaining six hairs and he will really look the part.  Anyone who tells him I wrote that, is in BIG trouble - and so will I be!

Ny had said we would find a laundry later.  Packing our pants and other used items into our matching Morrisons bags, we joined the Happy Family crew who toted similar, if more upmarket bags.  Frank and Tania introduced us to the delights of Happy Hour Aussie style.  In Frank's case, he explained the workings of a B52 (or was it 42.  I've had a few cocktails since then).  This small, yet explosive, drink was set on fire.  You are supposed to drink it whilst the flames are at full pelt.  Obviously a favourite amongst flame throwers then.  

Wife Tania then gave an elegant demonstration on how to park oneself on a bar stool, ending with a neat little foot flick ( be careful not to say the last two words incorrectly).  Trying to impress, I held on with my arms and jumped.  I was still about twelve inches short of the chair.  Nothing else for it.  Facing the chair, I climbed up it like Sir Edmund Hillary on Everest.  Ending on the seat on all fours, I gave a quick twirl and was ready for action with my Black Russian ( that's the name of the drink darling.)

The monsoon rains continued, so Ny arrived in the bus to take us to the laundry.  The first one was too busy but the second was able to help.  Lord David was delighted as it was named the Royal Laundry.  Once again we had to skirt deep puddles as we crossed the road.  Our bags were weighed and the price agreed.  Oh we would soon smell sweet again.  

Off to the night market where the local ladies invited us to look at their stalls.  I was most impressed and came away with some cooler items to wear.  Hopefully Wet Lady may become Damp Woman before long.  Punctual as always, we walked back to the bus.  Well, we walked back to a bus.  It just wasn't ours.  Ours was further down the road, with everyone waiting patiently for our return. Oh dear.

Little Happy Family headed off for a fun night out.  A buffet meal followed by traditional dancing.  The food tables groaned with the weight of all the tempting dishes.  I groaned later from having yielded to the temptations.  Not wanting to appear greedy, I put just a little of everything I fancied on my plate.  I returned with a mountain of food which I reduced to a molehill just before the entertainment started.  

The show opened with the male dancers wanting to play with the females' coconuts (stop it.  I can hear you giggling.).  A very clever routine with coconuts clip-clopping all over the place. 

Most of the routines involved someone/something trying to catch someone/something.  As with the Laos dancers, I was fascinated with the hand movements and the dancers' bendy fingers.  My favourite act was the Fisherman's Dance.  Everyone was catching fish with baskets at the start.  By the end, they were more interested in catching the women.  At the end of the evening, Lord David led his own tiddler home to put her in her pla(i)ce,  Groan!!

Paradise Lost in Phnom Penh

 Chatting to other Happy Family members, we were not the only ones to have encountered difficulties.  Showers had been scalding hot or freezing cold.  Shower rails had fallen down at the merest touch.  Safes would not work.  Loud noises in the night.  Then the ultimate - cockroaches!!  Thank goodness they had not visited our room. At least two other rooms had them though.  

Even breakfast had its moments.  They ran out of juice glasses.  Hubby drank from a champagne glass with style.  We dared not leave our seat to collect more food without leaving someone to guard it.  Slight problem with too many guests and not enough seating.  I almost came to blows with one chappie who tried to steal hubby's chair.  He would have been so upset if there was nowhere for him to tuck into his jam sandwich.

Mr Smee arrived with his clipboard and proceeded to make note of our concerns.  We walked along to the Royal Palace where the red carpet had been put out in preparation - not for us though.  The Royal Family were expected later this week for a special celebration.  We were not even allowed to walk in front of it, let alone put our foot on it.

We learned the Cambodian way of crossing the road.  Look both ways.  Wave to the traffic in both directions to calm them down and let them know you are there.  I became quite good at that, even though I say so myself.  Had a few near misses but I'm still hear to tell the tale.  

The guard on duty by the sentry box was chatting on his mobile as we approached.  Off with his head!  He must have thought we were performing a guard inspection because he finished his call and popped back into his box.  There was an empty box further along, so I tried out my skills as a sentry.

The palace was very beautiful.  It was a shame we could not see more of it.  Some parts were off limits due to restoration and others were the living quarters of nobility and not accessible.  Hubby did his best to use his powers of investigation with little success.

We were both impressed with a garden filled with topiary animals and large stupas which contained the ashes of deceased kings.  Large fish and turtles splashed in the ornamental pond while drums beat out a rhythm in the background.  

Real elephants no longer live here.  We had to make do with the life-size paper-mâché one.  The Royal howdahs, ornate paintings and drums will stay in my memory for ever. 

We were not allowed to take photos in the Silver Pagoda.  The floor was tiled in real silver.  I did let my big toe sneak onto it, just for a second.  I won't wash it for at least a week.  Hundreds of different Buddhas made from precious metals and decorated with gemstones were dotted around.  Golden head-dresses were displayed in glass cases and a man in the corner had the longest thumb-nail I have ever seen.  He was real.  Not a statue.  Tania and I made several guesses as to possible uses for this long nail!!

So, from the heights of the Palace to the depths of the Killing Fields.  I took no photos here.  Those who know me, will understand how distressing I found this day.  Sightless skulls stared from behind the glass panels in a high tower.  Pieces of bones and fragments of clothing are still emerging from the ground.  It was almost too much for one Cambodian visitor.  She was here with her grandchildren.  Her eyes welled with tears as she explained she had lost seven siblings during the massacres.  She was so sad and had come here at the request of her grandchildren.  

Our guide's family had also suffered.  His father was taken, tortured and killed.  His mother was forced to take on manual labour.  He and his sister were taken in by an old Chinese lady who looked after them for eight years,  They still see her now and take her gifts to thank her.

I watched as pretty butterflies flittered around.  I had never seen so many beautiful ones in the wild.  I liked to think they were the spirits of those who had suffered, free at last.

The Genocide museum was definitely not for me.  I wandered around while the group looked at the conditions endured by the prisoners.  I took only one photo of the rules and regulations.  I wondered if I could have endured them.

So, on a sad note, we set off for lunch.  But, you could not keep a Happy Family down for long.  I introduced them to a few guiding songs to lift their spirits.  Nothing like 'A Pizza Hut' and other ditties to cheer you up.

 

We arrived at 'La Rose' in good humour. Service was a little slow, so I took advantage of the rest room.  As so often happens, I started a conversation with a lady in the queue.  It just so happened that she knew the guy in New Zealand who had helped import our Motorhome,  She lived quite near and invited us to stay on their land for a few days.  Small world indeed.  

Not to be outdone Tania headed to the ladies to 'find a friend'.  We thought she had failed in her quest until a departing customer gave her a cheery wave us farewell as if they were long lost buddies!'  I think the whole world should make it their mission to make at least one friend in a toilet.  Obviously, you should be very careful how you approach them.  The consequences could be severe if done wrongly.

Our final trip was to the Fine Arts Museum.   I expected to be bored.  How wrong can you be.  An entertaining, knowledgable Cambodian lady took us on a journey of the history of Cambodia through its artefacts.  She was pure magic.  Could have listened to her for longer but time was not on our side.

We returned to the hotel and found that Mr Smee had been busy.  The hotel had changed our room once more.  This time we had proper paint on the walls and clean towels,  as for sleep, let's wait and see.

Before bed, we fancied something special.  The honeymooners, Krystal and Nathan, had whetted our appetites the night before. (Oh. stop it.  I can read your minds you naught people). We opted for an hour's tuk-tuk ride around Phnom Penh at night.  It was divine.  

The breeze as we drove along, cooled us down.  The fairy lights twinkled.  I snapped away surreptitiously, having been warned about speedy bikers who snatch IPods from the hands of unsuspecting tourists.  Past the Palace, funfair, famous statues, eateries and, at last, the casino where our niece's husband's brother works.  I clambered out to take some photos.  Turned round. Tuk-tuk gone.  Loud laughter from along the road.  Hmm.  Not funny.

We had a great ride for over an hour.  This cost a mere seven dollars.  Less than a Big Mac meal and much more enjoyable.  Tania and Frank were sitting in the lobby.  We'd tried to contact them earlier and they'd tried to phone us.  Talk about ships in the night.  So we settled down for a long blather before bedtime.  Night all x x 

Checkpoint Charlie On The Go Style

Having an early start and no idea when we would eat again, I was delighted that the hotel staff agreed that I could take some goodies from the breakfast bar.  One cannot travel without afternoon tea, you know.  Having handed over my keys, I needed the washroom.  Down in the lobby, the ladies were next to the gents.  The swing doors into the urinals were like the saloon doors in a cowboy movie.  I was sorely tempted to swagger through and say, 'Get off your horse and milk it.'

Gemma and Gemma's Mum appeared, complete with bags, nebuliser and a range of medication which they were more than happy to share with other travellers.  There is no mistaking that this pair are mother and daughter.  Along came Frank and Tania.  I checked.  He had his credit card.  Finally, Nathan and Krystal appeared to complete Little Happy Family.  They were entitled to be later.  After all, honeymooners are allowed a little longer to linger in luxury.

Wind arrived, still smiling, yet there was the slightest hint of a good night out hanging over him.  To my relief, I heard that Rose and Loretta had made it safely back to the hotel, sharing a taxi with Krystal.  So our shrunken group boarded a shrunken bus with a large Mickey Mouse sticker on its side.  That raised a smile on some faces as we drew alongside  commuters stuck in the motorbike jam.  

This morning our journey took us past orchards of rubber trees and glasshouses filled with colourful, exotic orchids.  In hindsight, I would rather have gone there than the Cu Chi tunnels.  For many in the group, the short film presentation was distasteful and totally biased.  The only positive part was Nathan completing the whole of the hundred metre tunnel.  That was a first for Wind.  Most tourists came out earlier as did Gemma, her Mum and Krystal.  Dave was pleased that Gemma did not stay down long for two reasons.  She gave him her handbag to hold which made him feel a littlrle uncomfortable us she was asthmatic.  If she ha been unwell her nebuliser was on the bus and that would have been sa long way to go whilst holding it.  Credit due to her. She was gutsy enough to go down.  Nothing and no-one would have got me down there.  

I turned my head away from the methods of trapping soldiers and instruments of torture.  I cannot even read or watch anything about people controlling others without feeling sick.  Wind seemed to feel the atmosphere in the group and we did not stay much longer.  

And so we arrived at the Vietnam-Cambodia border.  Our guide led us thoughtfully through the exit procedures. Tania had a minor problem as they forgot to stamp her passport.  Oops.  Then Nguyen (Wind) led from the front for one last time.  We would miss him.  He had been a great guide, sincere and caring.  Hugs and kisses, then he stood watching and waving as we crossed No Man's Land with our new guide.  I turned one last time to wave but he had disappeared, blown away into the distance.  

Our new guide had a big, cheesy grin and a wealth of even cheesier jokes.  Sorting us into 'haves' and 'have nots' (as in visas, not money), he distributed forms to fill in.  Note to tour company, please go the extra mile and issue guides with pens.  It will cut down waiting time by at least half.  Clutching our passports, photo (one only and no photocopy needed) plus the twenty dollar bill, he soon returned.  I think at this point, he may have been offering the immigration official a little inducement to smooth our passage.  

On returning, our passports were returned and we were directed into the immigration building.  Now, I have been a good girl all my life, so it came as a shock to have my fingerprints taken,  not with the messy ink pad but a miniature photocopier.  Peter Pointer, Mary Middle, Ruby Ring and Tiny Tim all performed beautifully.  Tommy Thumb, the naughty boy, played up and refused to lie flat.  I blame it on an old trampoline injury.  The unsmiling guard showed me a simpler way to do it, rather than looking like a Twister competitor.  

All a tremble and wondering what they would do with my fingerprints, I dropped my passport hastily inside my waistcoat.  Emerging into Cambodia proper, Hubby handed me his passport.  Our documents like to nestle together in the same pocket.  Holy Moley, where had mine gone?  It wasn't in its usual spot.  I couldn't find it.  They would arrest me and keep me here.  Panic attack on the horizon and approaching fast.  Patiently hubby took me through the pocket routine one more time.  Upper, lower, inside and out.  Ah, there it was.  I love this thief proof waistcoat but it is a darned nuisance in times of stress. 

On our bus, our guide introduced himself,  Smey, Reaksmey or Mr Smee, as I have named him.  Perhaps I should not have had the cropped haircut.  He was unsure whether to call me by my First or Surname!!  

We were then given some 'do's' and 'don'ts' in Cambodia.  No pointing feet at people - that's Ballet Rambert excluded. No touching heads with hands - could give a Glasgow kiss then.  Shoes off when entering homes or temples - hope we don't visit any today.  My bamboo socks have been on for days now!

Mr Smee sounds just like the wedding planner in 'Father of the Bride'.  I just hope he doesn't ask Frank to do too much.  He spent the next ten minutes demonstrating a thousand uses for a Cambodian scarf.  Interesting but I was a bit shocked with the final suicide use.  Not funny Mr Smee!

Traveling on, it was interesting to spot the difference between the houses on this side of the border.  On high stilts, they looked as though they were cared for, unlike those in South Vietnam.  Being the rainy season, the large flat fields were flooded.  Tall sugar cane trees stood tall in the water.  Water buffaloes plodded or swam through the water.  

We stopped to watch a lady preparing rice for the forthcoming religious ceremony.  It had a lovely aroma.

Arriving at the ferry, we waited in the queue.  Young boys banged on the windows, begging for money.  A heavy pregnant lady balanced a large basket of small fruits on her head as she waddled past in the heavy rain.  Our driver went to buy the ticket ( and pay the bribe) to hasten our journey.  We watched, laughing, as a large cow foraged in rubbish bags.  Another cow joined on.  Moo-ve over darling.

And move we did, to the Frangipane Hotel.  Some of us have renamed it Fawlty Frangipane.  Our first room had Eau de Musty.  We didn't stay to unpack.  Allocated another room, we felt it impolite to complain.  The wet plaster in the bathroom, the brown ringed toilet stain and the lack of towels did not raise our hopes.  

At the evening meal, the chef had not grasped the concept of no fish.  He interpreted it as no meat.  Hence Gemma and Hubby were deprived of some tasty food.  

The saving grace on this first evening was the night view from the sky top swimming pool.  We did not swim as a butterfly stroke 'expert' was doing her best to empty the pool in as few strikes as possible.  Instead, we crept away for an eat night. X

Saigon Separations

Did we have to leave this beautiful setting?  One more day please?!  Ah well, at least we had a boat trip to the floating market,  Oh, I wish you could have seen it.  Boats of all shapes and sizes, weaving  in and out.  Bunches of bananas flew high in the air before being caught a d stored on board crafts.  Watermelons, cabbages, spices, eggs, rocks and cement were flung with ease from vendor to buyer.  Tiny boats bobbed around selling drinks, beads and all manner of things.  It was pitch and toss of the highest level.

I would have liked to have gone once more round the block (some may say I have done that a few times already - tut tut).  Still, it was interesting looking at the riverside shops.  They had some interesting items like coffins....COFFINS!! Now there was a thought.  How would they collect them?  Would they tow the behind the boat with body in situ?  

We pulled over to visit the market.  We were becoming immune to some of the sights now.  The old 'look at my frogs and birds' routine is wearing a bit thin.  But the smell never wears thin.  The pungent odour from the fermenting fish sauce had us all scuttling back to the bus for the return journey to Saigon.  

Sailing speedily along the highway, we saw the workers grafting away in the paddy fields.  Many of them had erected beautiful tombstones dedicated to their dead relatives buried there.  The graveyards were pretty full and they had to go somewhere.

Have you noticed a theme developing here?  We actually passed a Vietnamese hearse, complete with undertakers.  Dressed in white robes with 'Karate Kid' style headbands, I thought it was a local martial arts' group out for a jolly.  They were having a right old laugh.

Woeful Wind explained in detail the Vietnamese burial traditions.  White headbands for sons; yellow for grandchildren and red for grand grandchildren ( how endearing that sounds.  Much better than great-grandchildren).  If your child dies, no bands are worn.  You must smile and you are not allowed to cry.  What!!

For richer people, the wooden caskets are buried.  Three years later, the bodies are exhumed and the bones cleaned.  The bones are placed in the correct order in a ceramic casket for reburial.  This time they get a headstone.  Always one to spot a bargain, I would opt for the cremation at a very low temperature.  The bones would be intact, so one stage would be skipped.  Pretty nifty idea that one.  

So final lunch of the big Happy Family tour.  Aah.  Louder! AAH!!  That's better. And what should happen?  We had our first proposal.  Abe, of the cheerful chuckle and ginormous golf club fame, had noted that Loretta and Rose rarely ate lunch.  One for a bargain, he wondered if they might consider marrying him.  Two for the price of one. BOGOF.  I think he may still have to caddy for himself as no reply was forthcoming.  Next time Abe.

Final afternoon in Vietnam and we were faced with the brutality of man and the horrors of war.  The photos were too distressing and I took some time out to sit with Hubby.  War solves nothing.  People have to sit round a table to talk eventually.  Pointless, pointless destruction.  

Thank goodness we were able to sit in the Notte Dame Cathedral and absorb its healing atmosphere.  As we crossed over the road to the famous Post Office, my heart was lifted.  A bride and groom.  So happy.  Proof to me that love is the answer and makes the world go round.

And so, our final evening.  We met on the lobby for one last time.  Some hugged, some kissed.  We even hugged those who were staying with us. We had made some new friends, some hopefully for a lifetime.  How wonderful it would be to see their faces again.  I may not be a cordon bleu cook, I may not have a swimming pool (yet) but there would be a warm Hieland welcome - and a chance to see the monster of course.  Kathy would be able to set up a 'spot the monster' stall too.

After one last photocall and a group 'thank you' to Wonderful Wind, we splintered apart.  The web was broken.  I gave Rose and Loretta one last hug before watching them toddle off into the night.  I just hoped they would not get lost again.

So, off to Floor 13 for us, except it has no number, just a dining room.  Happy surprise.  We were not alone.  Nurse Judy was there with her husband, Dave.  I don't think I've mentioned him before.  I'd better before it is too late.  We wouldn't see him again.  Suffice to say, if you ever need a guard dog or an early morning call, he is your man.  He almost had me out of the boat one time when he performed an animal impression.

Last but very definitely not least were Tania and Frank.  This turned out to be the start of a very beautiful friendship.  As Dave and Judy retired, there followed a lengthy hilarious hour or so of travellers' tales.  Tania could write a book on the story of her afternoon tea at The Sail in Dubai alone!!  Suffice to say, if you are ever fortunate enough to travel with this pair, make sure Frank has his credit card. 

The cleaner had been hanging around for a while and our bills were presented.  We took the hints and headed for our room, mouths and sides aching with laughter.  Time for a quick call to my brother and sis.  Great to hear their voices.  I didn't feel quite so far from home.  Lights out.  Night night. X

The Longest Day

With cotton buds propping our eyes open, we squished our way to reception for the early morning ride to the airport.  Everyone and everything loaded with minutes to spare.  Good job too.  As we drove along through the lashing rain, we were flagged down by a small group of tourists.  Thinking there had been an accident, our driver stopped.  Not so.  These young people, absolutely sodden were lost and there were no taxis around at that time in the morning.  

Wemarkable Wind (I am running out of 'r' words now), phoned back to our hotel for directions.  Pete valiantly relinquished a honeymoon souvenir and handed over his map.  Relieved, the bedraggled lot thanked their Good Samaritans profusely and we continued our journey.  Wind pointed out that their evening would have been better with more 'shoulds'.  They should have had a map.  They should have had a hotel card.  They should have drunk less and they definitely should have left earlier.  

Having collected our boarding cards, HF settled down to eat the packed breakfasts thoughtfully  prepared by the hotel.  Try as I might, at that time in the morning, I just could not get my head or my mouth round the tamarind fruit.  For all the world, they looked like bright pink spiky testicles.  By inserting thumbs, the inner eyeball was revealed.  Yesterday I had loved them.  Today they were consigned to the bin.

Hubby was not at his most alert.  He managed to set the security alarm off by not removing his waistcoat.  Soon after, he was in his favourite slumber pose.  Our flight was called for boarding.  Gently, I nudged him.  'Not our flight.  That one's going to Ho Chi Minh.  We're going to Saigon'.  It was only when our fellow travellers moved, that he reluctantly realised that for once, I was right.  ( if you didn't get that, just Google it!)

On the plane, I developed a fit of the giggles.  I can't remember why  but it was not helped when Frank, sitting opposite, raised a comical eyebrow.  I lost it and only regained it when honeymooner Crystal sternly said, 'Patricia' in her prison officer tone.  Now I remember Cell Block H and the woman in the tumble drier so I stopped immediately.  Crystal's husband has a similar effect on me.  Having Richard Gere's eyes, when he said, 'And sleep!' I drifted away.  The only time I have ever nodded off on a plane.  No need for my hundred Hail Mary's or Good Morning Csptain, How's Your Lady Wife Routine?.  One small bang and we had landed.

Baggage collected, HF were worried.  We had lost our illustrious leader.  We had become so conditioned to following, we dare not move without him.  Should we go or should we stay? (Song there). The decision was taken out of our hands when the good shepherd returned looking for his lost lambs.  Having only hand luggage, he had gone straight out and assumed we would meet him outside.  Lesson learned.

Baaaa-shfully we followed him to the bus.  The Saigon motorbikers are far more conscientious, wearing helmets.  That is, the adults wear helmets.  The children, sometimes several of them at a time, do not.  The official reason being that there are none small enough and the weight would be too much for their necks.  I leave you to draw your own conclusion on that one.

But the children do look happy on the bikes as did the little boy playing at his parent's brickworks.  We visited there on our cruise down the Mekong River.  It was very interesting learning how to make bricks but I don't think it is a skill I will develop.  Nor will I encourage Hubby.  I would not like to be a brickie's wife on two counts.  Firstly, washing bricks all day would play havoc with my nails.  Secondly, depositing my personal bricks could be problematic as Nurse Judy found out.

Being took short, she was in need of a toilet.  She confused Wondering Wind when she said she needed a Number 2.  Eventually she clarified it in terms of the bear that likes honey. The only option was to walk out on parallel planks, hanging on to bamboo poles and adopt the squatting position.  Gutsy Judy went ahead and played an individual game of Pooh sticks.  Off they went down the stream into the Mekong River.  The same river where people wash, swim and catch fish to eat.  That's how it is folks.  And they dio it with smiles on their faces. 

So down the river we sailed to Sweetie Heaven.  Using a primitive yet creative way to grind the coconut for using to create a delicious toffee.  It should be marketed in the UK.  Can you hear me Gordon.  Coconut flavoured crackers and sugared ginger were other tasty treats for sampling and buying.

The braver amongst us sampled the evil looking snake rice wine.  I preferred the real thing and rather enjoyed having a python weave its way around my body.  I would say that it's a long time since I've had a long, warm thing between my legs, but I won't because Hubby will give me that look!  The one that means I am being too naughty.  Sorry dear.  I just couldn't resist.

A very wich Wind took us to his 'home' for lunch.  An old but extremely well-preserved (like me) colonial house.  It was like the set from 'Out of Africa'.  Pretty girls in traditional costume brought course after course.  The highlight, for me, was the Elephant Ear Fish.  It looked and tasted fabulous.  Sadly, not much meat on it, but I don't suppose there's much meat on an elephant's ear.  Rose resorted to picking through the bones for every last tasty morsel.

Thunderclaps and heavy rain were a fore warning of problems ahead.  Communication and cultural differences led to a misunderstanding over the bill.  Wise Wind was summoned and resolved the issue in his usual unflappable manner. 

From the humid heat to the extreme cold on the bus.  The day had seemed so long and tiring.  All I wanted was my bed.  And what a bed it was ! But no one could resist Wind's invitation to join him in the lobby for a surprise.  This lovely man had arranged a special Happy Family meal for us all.  A pianist ticked the ivories, the service was superb, the food extreme yummy and the company, as always, top notch.  Conversation flowed and Happy Family were harmonious.  A fitting almost end to a fantastic tour!

Needs must

I had to shop.  Having been informed that bracelets made from cinnamon helped wet ladies be less wet and also stopped the pesky midges, I just had to find some.  By now, I had started to resemble a Spotted Dick for the colour blind.  For the none-UK readers, that is a dessert and not a disease .  Last night, the itching was driving me berserk, so I thought I would apply some of the green ointment given to me by Eilin, the kind Chinese lady who had shared our rail compartment one night.  The warning instructions were in Chinese, so I just sat on the toilet and dotted the bites with the green stuff.  Now sitting on the toilet with my trousers round my ankles caused the natural occurrence of passing water.  

Once the flow ceased, I reached for the paper to delicately dab.  Jumping Jehoshaphat!!  It was like an application of neat Vick to my private parts. Turning on the cold water tap, I splashed and splashed, then applied a cold flannel until I had stopped acting like Mrs Brown on ecstasy tablets.  The bed sheets didn't take too kindly to the ointment either.  The housemaid must have thought I was rotting away or an alien emitting a strange substance.  I bet that label said 'Wash hands thoroughly after use'

So, on a mission we walked into town.  Naturally, we were distracted by a few historical features.  You can't just pass by an ancient bridge guarded by dogs on one side and dragons the other.  The floorboards here were rather dodgy.  I held on tight to my beloved IPod.  One slip and my memories would have been floating down the river.

Over to the other side, where little information invited us into his tourist spot where he insisted we beat his drum and banged on his gong.  He was very shy and did not want his photo taken.  Nice man though.

A shopkeeper round the corner was kind too.  She was selling sunglasses.  Having broken two pairs, Hubby was not too pleased with the pressure I had put on his pocket money.  The lady passed over a few pairs.  Ugh.  Awful.  I looked like The Fly.  Oh this pair looked great.  What did that writing say?  Prada!!  Oh I could feel an upgrade coming on.  How much? Fifteen dollars.  'Come away,' said my better half.  Ten dollars.  Five dollars.  'Three?' I asked wistfully.  She agreed. Hubby took out the remainder of his dong (that's Vietnamese money, you naughty people).  He only had just over two dollars worth.  My eyes pleaded with the lady.  She could see how piggy they looked from the sun.  She nodded.  Hurrah.  Now I could be Glenn Close instead of Dame Judi.

Feeling rather grand, I was delighted to run into Loretta and Rose.  The latter pointed out that I had left the sticker on.  I tried to get it off but it was painted on.  

Our ladies were lost again, looking for the helpful pharmacy that had assisted Rose in her hour of need.  We wandered with them and got lost too.  A local put us straight and Rose bought her medication.  While they looked at watches, I went in search of my beads.  Sniffing every set I came across, I could not detect any odour.  An enterprising young assistant spotted me.  'You want cinnamon.  You wait here.'  She was off like a shot, leaving me in the care of her elderly mother who spoke four words of English to my three Vietnamese.  We got on very well.  I declined the plastic elephants, over-large fan and shells.  The daughter returned.  I sniffed.  Perfect.  Just the price to sort out and we had to pay in dollars.  My dongs had all dinged,  We agreed a price and I came away quite happy.  I say quite because I am not sure  if the scent will fade before morning!!

At the end of the road, we spotted our friends again.  They were standing by their infamous lamp.  We just had to have a photo.  A cheeky local decided to photobomb then had the nerve to ask for a dollar.  Hubby said she should pay us and she scuttled away, muttering.

We joined other Happy Family members partaking the free market food at the hotel.  Even the light rain did not dampen our spirits.  Pleasant Pete was feeling much better and tucking in.  When his wife asked what he had done with the rubbish, he said he had brought it with him.  I could not resist and quipped that he should have left his wife in the room.  Quick as a flash, she threatened to attack me with her noodles.  Laughing and retreating hastily, we went to bed.  A three am start was the order for the following day, x x