The food stalls here are amazing - whole fish kebabs, vegetarian buffet for about 80 cents NZ (as much as you can stack on your plate), whole stalls dedicated to BBQ'd meat, and a random assortment of local delicacies. Washed down with a delish fresh fruit shake or Beer Lao.

Tonight the girls run rampant around the fun fair with the intention of watching the Miss Lao competition - yet at US$100 for a table, we'd rather watch from outside the fence (as do most people). Only a few people actually pay to enter and the views aren't any better. We are slowly acclimatising to Laos time, yet after 1.5hrs, many drinks and snacks later, the show still hasn't kicked off so we wander on. Nevermind, we'll see Miss Lao at the parade! Back home tents have popped up like mushrooms, and after a night out at the local garden bar Guido ends up claiming one tent, Alana another... eventually we'll get it right!

The town centre is based around picturesque palace grounds with an exquisite wat (temple), and from the neighbouring mountain top more temples reside with great views over Luang Prabang.

Colonial villa's and traditional lao abodes make for a pleasant walk to the peninsula where the Mekong meets with the Nam Khon river. But (ashamedly) what excites us most are the baguette stalls - large fresh baguettes chocca with chicken/mayo/salad or Lao style with mystery meat/pork shavings/salad/mystery fillings. The best we've found in SEA!! And given valuable advice from a cheap-ass friend - they advertise the baguettes at the tourist price but accept half that. Another 80 cents well spent! Topped off with a coconut milk and mango shake and we're set until the vege buffets are back in operation. And don't even get me started on our discovery of the "oreo shake" and then the "oreo coffee shake"... heavenly!

The night market is the best we've seen in SEA - the main street closes to traffic every night, the stalls appear as if from nowhere and unlike the chaos we're now accustomed to - this is surprisingly serene. The Lao people really are a relaxed race and their calmness resonates with us. Stunning handicrafts - so hard to resist but some Khao kam (a local red sweet wine made from black sticky rice) wouldn't hurt the back!

Back at tent-town we regroup with our border crossing buddies and head to the gorgeous outdoor garden resto - which is very upmarket yet to our delight sells the cheapest large Beer Lao in town, and being a mere 50m from our tents, is very conveniently located. All bars close by midnight so we migrate to a friends riverside abode and drink beer Lao on the balcony, overlooking the river.

The water festival lasts around one week while the whole country celebrates the Lao New Year. On the first day the old spirit departs so people give their homes a thorough cleaning. The second day sees a parade down the main road between Wat's, and the third day is a rest day so people wash their Buddha images at the local Wat. The new spirit arrives on the sixth day, with various other activities in between.

The first day of the New Year sees us swallowed up by the New Years market that consumes the main road. People walk in the appropriate direction of the car lanes and carry banners to celebrate the new year. Stalls line the street to sell food, drink, birds, water-pistols and anything else one may require. Happy vibes, organised chaos. The only downer was seeing all the young kids shooting pellets from toy guns - especially when you get pinged on the forehead by one! Most of the children have these which is rather distressing, considering the turbulent history of the country at least.

Come noon the market clears out and super soakers consume the streets to soak all. We run the gauntlet down to the river, getting drenched from buckets, water pistols, hoses, even ute's that patrol the streets with teens on the back to pour water on those below. This is a serious water fight that you can't beat, so you have to join! People come from all over the country in their hordes, matching shirts, endless supplies of water, and endless energy. Teens dance on the ute's to "Akon" and other bad mainstream western music. This is a water fight of epic proportions!

We take a boat over the river to the "beach party". Piled in like sardines, we're lucky not to collide with other reckless boats hooning back and forth to shuttle for the party (unfortunately the same can't be said for all the boats). Alana falls out of the boat at the other side but chooses to embrace it - after all, this party is essentially a knee deep mud pit with more water, flour, and paint to add to the carnage. Flour bombs! Alana unsuccessfully takes on a 5yr old for practice - but he has friends! Local music pumps and beer Lao is on sale at every stall. Interestingly this seems to be a real local affair and it's mostly the locals getting their groove on at the dance floor (aka mud pit). Alana gets acquainted with some friendly locals when they start pouring beer down her throat and skewered meat in her mouth - who needs conversation! G and A happily join this crew for drinking games and more spoon-feeding - these people sure know how to party! We go nuts on the dance floor to Lao music - and are thoroughly amused by their dancing which is essentially a bum dance to bump other people aside for more space. Once back ashore we stumble up to a vege buffet but our munchies are uncontrollable and we think we must've overstayed our welcome here - will have to try a new stall tomorrow...

The second day of the New year and the water-fights are still in full swing - all day. High anticipation for the grand parade and when the parade pours through, they get poured on by trigger happy water pistol wielding spectators. Music, marching, martial arts, monks and gorgeous costumes galore. Not even the monks are spared from the water blasting. The newly crowned Miss Lao arrives on a float, astride a pig - for some reason we'd expected it to be a real pig but it was still entertaining. On our way to meet friends at the garden bar we pass a bunch of uniformed cops drinking beer Lao - it seems everyone is in the festive spirit!

The third day of the New year and after a 2am bed time the 5am alarm is not appreciated! Yet we drag ourselves down to the palace grounds to observe the alms giving to the monks. Well presented women (mostly) kneel down on mats with their offerings on display. Live percussion serenades the monks from the palace and they do the rounds, their urns getting filled up with sticky rice and assorted sweet treats, with the occasional kip note thrown in for good measure. Street urchins race for the overflow and their baskets get topped up also. An interesting blend of give and take, a distribution of wealth so it seems. And unsurprisingly, once the sun comes up, the waterfights continue. Such endurance!

Party Party, Soak and Splash, Luang Prabang - Laos remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Primary rain forest chocka with lush vines and branches that clamber their way down the cliffs. This is Phongsali province, one of Laos' most remote which few roads, none tarmac, penetrate. Home to about two dozen ethnic minorities who inhabit its undulated hills. Many of the hill tribes remain firmly animist and shamanist, believing in all manner of house spirits or ghosts. The clock wound down centuries, their encounters with the West are few. Though driving past a 'poppy replantation reserve' sign we figure the H'mong must also be among them. Historically opium plantations have always thrived here, being their prime cash crop but by all appearances it seems to make way for the next best thing - leafy tea plantations. At least if the government would have you believe! Anyone fancy a cup of Earl Grey? Aside from a brief lunch stop in an otherwise non-descript village where we subsist on watery noodles with chicken ass bits, the journey trudges on uneventfully otherwise.

Until several hours later, we get to Muang Khua - focal point of our cross border trip and end of the line for now. A thriving trade town with a rather split personality bearing the name of the Nam Ou river. Wooden shacks sell noodle snacks, car and bike parts, seemingly indicating that not many peasants plan to stop here for long. A thoroughfare more than anything else we still somehow manage to grow a beard while our attempts to get out unfurl at snails pace.

Chartering a boat to Muang Ngoi for $80 means we have to resort to pooling our resources and try to up the size of our crew substantially. Many long bus journeys have made us as patient as the monks themselves and finally we get together Bettany 'the talkative American', Simon the German 'wannabe' hitcher, Canadians Brent & Sierra, and a Belgian couple who cannot seem to make up their mind as to their plans. Ultimately though, we reach cohesion and head off. Ten of us strong plus packs and gear, our boatmen pushes off into the current and revs the car engine contraption of his feeble long-tail.

We're in for a 4 hour sojourn downriver to a picturesque riverine village Muang Ngoi Neua, passing some of the most superb rainforest on the way, interspersed by mud-shack villages and fishermen who attempt to pawn off their catch of the day. Our boatman came prepared, scale, knives and all - some good deals to be had here!

Our first encounter with Lao village life. A one street affair stretches out in front of us, flanked by bamboo thatch huts raised on stilts along the riverbed. Some of which employ cluster bomb casings as makeshift fences or vege gardens - yep, this must be Laos. True, there is also quite a few falang guesthouses and the ubiquitous 'sunshine' resto franchise around so perhaps it's not the most rural village.

But then again these niggles are momentous and quickly brushed aside as the town, hemmed in by steep mountains on all sides is undeniably beautiful while relaxing by the river has a lure not to underestimate - don't tempt me! With little else to do but people watching, napping and swinging in hammocks its ample opportunity to adjust to Lao time. The infamous sticky falang roll also leaves lingering memories in shape of peanut butter, jam, sticky rice and sesame seeds which stick to the roof of your mouth.

Alana and Bettany go exploring to visit the caves and a picturesque remote village where animals roam free and the gardens are caged up - a novel idea! We've found our rural village and soak up the atmosphere at a peaceful resto overlooking the mountains. We snooze in the hammocks while we wait an hour or so for some buffalo salad (Laap) - maybe they had to go catch one first?

Leaving the town is another challenging proposition with half of the town's fleet sunk after last night's storm. By far the worst we've had here and even sent the locals running with their pots and pans (a preemptive warning should you need one in the future). At least our bungalow held up, just, and didn't slide down into the river. Which is more than what could be said of some other places. Still, the carnage is surprisingly temporary as soon crews that consists of half the village bail out most of their fleet, allowing us to set sail for Luang Prabang to celebrate Laos New Year. Hooray!

Maybe Muang Ngoi Neua - Laos remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Normally such bus rides are incredibly mundane and most uneventful occasions so at the risk of boring you we won't elaborate on it for too long. Yet, if anything the closest impression we can give you is the striking resemblance with a game of Tetris. A game of Tetris, in which the driver skillfully inserts bags of rice, chickens and backpacks under the seats of his van and then craftily proceeds to fill up the remaining space by folding the passengers around the baggage. He did well all things considering; 21 people in a minivan in a 5, 5, 3, 4, 4 configuration. The only issue being that this game is going to last 9 hours.

The other thing with Vietnamese folks is their non-existent awareness of proximity, that little area we call personal space. So the constant slobbering that ensues, draping heads over your head rest, and coughing in one's neck is something you quickly grow accosted to in Nam. This time we wanted to see if this might work the other way too, with Guido hugging shoulders and draping himself over the poor guy next to him - it did not go down well. The wild rugged scenery of the Tonkinese Alps is once again astounding but with your head tucked into the next person's armpit its magic tends to fade after a while. Hence most of the journey passes us by in a sleep fogged blur interceded by shards of memory of a truly astounding place.

Dien Bien Phu - what to say about it. Allegedly, it's famous as the site of a truly decisive battle where the Vietminh turned a 13,000 strong French garrison into mince pie, effectively ending French colonial control over Vietnam. Strategically, with the French stationed in town at the bottom of a soup bowl shaped valley with the Alps towering above, this slaughter is easy to imagine. Especially when our bus descends onto the rice fields from the mountains above. Yet our encounters with this battlefield of old are brief. Our next 8 hour game of Tetris awaits tomorrow - 5:30am.

Ps: the crossing itself was a breeze and, once in Laos, pace of life slows down a few gears.

Adieu to Dien Bien Phu - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We settle in and resume sleep until the sun is beaming and the power resumes. A change of night and day. Hill tribe minorities from nearby villages are heading through town en-route to the Saturday market, carrying baskets full of handicrafts and dressed in colourful traditional garb, their different costumes representing the different tribes.

The instant we step out of the cafe we are accosted by a throng of H'mong women who accompany us on our walk and try to entice us into a sale with their impeccable English and friendly dispositions. You will not see a lone traveler in Sapa - the local minorities attach themselves to foreigners like flies on meat. They pounce on you when you leave the resto's - not missing any opportunity to commence a sale. That said, it's a real pleasure!

The main street is surrounded by hotels dotting the periphery of the misty mountains, with views of the terraced rice paddies stepping down into the valleys below. At the local market the Montagnards all trade with one another - the largest ethnic groups being the H'mong and the Dzao people with their billowing red headdresses.

We appreciate the cool air and are drawn to the activity at the town square where we engage with a couple of young H'mong girls. The talkative one is 20yrs old and is married with two children. It takes us a while to notice the little babies strapped to their backs hidden from the elements by blankets. These girls walk for 2hrs every morning to come to Sapa to sell their handicrafts (luckily their husbands pick them up to return home but many others walk). We're amazed at how low maintenance the babies are here - they just hang out on their mother's backs all day. Girls marry at around 13-15yrs old. The parents of both families have to approve the match. Potential husbands are chosen based on their assets e.g. how many water buffalo they possess.

We head up to the 'microwave station' to receive intermittently spectacular views of the valley (in between engulfment by mist). The mist chases us through the valley where we explore through a maze of caves, karst, rock gardens, and the best views of Sapa town from "cloud yard". Sapa is the coldest place in Vietnam and we freeze up here once the sun sets.

"Smile Resto" for dinner where we order exotic fare such as goose and deer, whilst sampling the cheap Sapa wines on offer; fruit, cherry, and plain rice wine for less than $1 each! A free traditional hill-tribe cultural performance provides a good excuse to sample the plum and apple wines at a local bar. We befriend some local teens who give us lucky trinkets and before we know it we get pulled up to dance and participate in the show with a bamboo stick game which is like elastics but using bamboo poles instead (ouch).

We embark on a two day trek through minority villages, complete with tour guide, Lauren from the states, Linda from Canada, and an ethnic minority entourage. We start from the rural Cavan village of the Dzay minority, sloshing along the muddy paths past ox, chickens, pigs, children and bamboo shacks.

First stop is to visit some families along the way where cute grubby kiddies play in the dirt with spare bike parts for toys. As we leave the villages to walk through the terraced rice paddies, our entourage of women and children hold our hands to prevent us from sliding over when it gets steep and muddy. Every time we lose our balance little hands appear to support us - so sweet!

We emerge from the bamboo forests to a cascading waterfall. This is the end of the line for our entourage who live in the nearby village. Our new 'friends' try guilt us into buying trinkets - poor Lauren gets H'mong cursed for not buying anything. We cross the river and head through the Giang Ta Chai village - home to the red Dzao. Quyen our 23yr old guide, who walks in jeans and a leather jacket, takes us on a shortcut towards our destination of Ban Ho, through a construction site for the dam that's in the pipeline - a total eyesore to the otherwise picturesque valley. Yet, this valley is supposedly under National Park protection. What do they actually protect?

Ban Ho is home to the Tay minority, who we'll be staying with tonight in a traditional stilted house. We soon realise that this experience will be just as 'authentic' as the Mai Chau homestays as every house in this village has been converted to a homestay. We are left to entertain ourselves so we drink beers and play cards (not exactly the minority experience we'd envisaged). Although the seasoned hot chips go down a treat! Quyen, who isn't too enthused about trekking is in his element as he cooks us dinner (he wants to own a resto someday). Servings of many tasty meat and vege dishes, with copious shots of "happy water" (rice wine) to wash it down.

Quyen admits to being a few rice wines ahead of us and an emotional outburst follows - he dramatically throws his promise ring onto the table and tells us his girlfriend woes - poor boy. He's cheered up somewhat by breakfast and after lots of banana and honey pancakes we head to "The Lavie" waterfall, now signposted as "The Deathtrap" since a tourist drowned here last year. We're soon joined by a German couple, their guide, and an entourage of Dzao women. The German guy takes instant develop photo's of the Dzao and gives them pics of themselves to keep. The rapture they gain from these "magic pictures" is priceless - a technology that we don't even use anymore. The irony does not escape us. After lunch we head back up the hill to the road, as Quyen doesn't want to walk the 9km road (not quite the 15km per day of trekking we'd been promised yet Vietnam and false advertising goes hand in hand), where we wait for our old army jeep to pick us up. Our trusty dog 'Mic' who follows us everywhere, entertains us and pisses on the Thit Cho (dog meat) sign of the local resto.

Back in Sapa we indulge in divine apple tarts and chocolate tarts at the local bakery, then it's back to "Smile" for dinner and wine with Lauren. We are soon joined by Beka, then Brady, and make the most of having a drinking crew. We end up at a bar - feel like we've been transported to Texas (the fact that we are with 2 Texans may have something to do with that!) as this is where all the tourists drink (too expensive for the locals). We have a curfew at our hotel but want to carry on drinking so Lauren and Beka 'borrow' some expensive looking Italian wine and we carry on back home on our balcony, making good use of the teapot set. Good times until our neighbor comes out in her undies and complains. We proceed to whisper (about her undies), yet this seems to anger her further "I can hear everything you're saying" she whines. Sigh...

We meet up with Lauren and Beka for brekky at Smile, then say bye to Lauren who leaves today. Later on the power in the whole of Sapa dies - right when we're in the middle of writing online and Beka is online to her boyfriend.

We admit defeat and drink fruit wine at Smile... a good excuse. Then it's time to celebrate again - our neighbor moved out so now we can drink and be loud in peace. Red wine and chocolate tarts on the balcony while looking out over the misty mountains around us. Special times in Sapa!

Sapa ever after - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our "junk" is a lovely wooden three level boat (quite alike all the other boats) with sun loungers on the top level (pity it's cold, overcast and drizzly).

We cruise through the bay, through the forest of magical and mysterious limestone mountains emerging from a sea of 3000+ islands, take in the scenery while getting acquainted with our crew and enjoy an impressive seafood banquet for lunch.

Shortly after this we dock up to visit "surprising cave" (Hang Sung Sot) - an elaborate and gigantic cave system with a disco vibe thanks to the imaginatively illuminated chambers showcasing some interesting "natural" rock formations, stalactites and stalagmites.

We leave just as hordes of boats arrive.

To obtain a panoramic view over the islands we climb the 734 steps up to the summit of Titop Island, the only island in Halong bay that has white sand beaches (brought over from the mainland though).

We anchor at Bai Tu Long Bay where we'll stay overnight. Next up - sea kayaking through caves, lagoons and around the karsts. Our cruisy guide decides to head back to the junk and leave us to it. A chilly paddle, rewarded by hot showers in our en-suite.

Another great feast materializes of seafood, meat, veg, fruit, wine... Great chats with our new mates while Dang our guide passes around the notorious rice wine and shares valuable info with us - why do Vietnamese eat chicken feet? "cos it's a fun snack, nice and crunchy". Right. We get rocked to sleep and are fortunate to be on a rat free junk (luck's on our side). Our bedroom is on the lower deck, complete with stunning morning karst and sea views from our bed.

Unfortunately the rest of our crew is heading back today so we jump aboard another boat with Dang and head to Cat Ba island for some hiking in the national park. The three of us trek through lush forest while a 70yr old local keeps up with us (despite being laden up with fishing gear and wearing gumboots). We hear a strange noise - is it the endemic yellow headed langur only found on Cat Ba? No, wild dogs advises Dang. We expected an easy walk in the park but the track is pretty rugged with branches for steps, vines for hand holds, and many slippery rock slides. We stop at the old mans hut for a green tea - he is allowed to live in the park because he's been here so long. We then carry on, eventually meeting up with the road - surprisingly void of activity. Amazing for Vietnam!

Back aboard our boat and among the karsts for yet another feast. We dock up at a floating house with six guard dogs aboard - there goes our excuse of not having room for a dog back in Auckland! We sea kayak from here past some floating fishing villages - all nicely painted green shacks with red roofs and guard dogs to watch over the fish and shellfish suspended in underwater cages.

Back at the floating house, Alana is fascinated by the cuttlefish (squid family) in pens. Even more so when Dang prods them with a broom handle and they instantaneously change colour - these guys have many costumes; red, white, mottled, iridescent blue flashing along their edges as a signal for danger (like space invaders), followed by ink explosions. When Dang puts live fish into the mix the cuttlefish switch into predator mode and home in for the kill in packs. The poor fish have no chance.

Alana has to be pried away from the action so we can head to Cat Ba Island where we are to farewell Dang and settle into a 3-star hotel "Holiday View" for a night of luxury. Once there, we venture out for dinner and a brief stroll along the waterfront, then hibernate with movies, oreo's and coffee in our swanky room.

Big buffet brekky to start the day, then meet up with Dang, take another junk through the bays and back to the mainland for yet another huge feed. We then head back to Hanoi, via the obligatory rest stop at a souvenir gallery selling everything you could desire at not so desirable prices. Nice try though. One of the tourists inquires over the high death toll on these roads "it's ok, Vietnamese make many babies", advises the guide.

All in all, a fantastic trip - made so by Dang, our crew, and the natural beauty of Halong Bay.

Sink or sail? Halong Bay - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Nestling the northern shores of Hoan Kiem lake lies Hanoi's oldest quarter, bristling with pure raw energy. Swarms of motorbikers haunt the spiderweb of streets and alleyways that are stuffed with cafe's, travel agencies and a great many shops selling the usual plethora of handicrafts, conical hats, Ho Chi Minh shirts and all manner of other trinkets. Beware for the uninitiated, this place unleashes a full on ground assault on all your senses. A constant wail of klaxons fill the air, conical hatters tugging your sleeves at every corner, beggars roaming the streets, pipe smoking cyclo drivers yell out on top of each other "hey, u want ride?!". Honk honk. motorbikes up our ass again. No turning back now because the fruit sellers are haunting us "ey, mista, u want sum fruit, come to my shop". Aaah, get out of our face!

This place is like a lucid acid trip spun out of control. The famous white rabbit tumbling down the rabbit hole. We seek refuge in a cheap nasty hotel with fungus for wallpaper and relentlessly haggle down the price even cheaper. Sure enough we get evicted, politely we might add, the very next day. There's a first for everything. The lines are drawn and so we are lured into a pleasant walhalla across the road - the Sunshine hotel. Inside a haven of peace and tranquility awaits. Almost like stepping into another dimension. We're sold and are so not going to leave this place anymore. Air con, cable tv, complementary fruit, in room internet and buffet breakfast as a bonus. They even have outrageous fortune on the box (through the Asian Ozzie channel showing bits of NZ). We haven't been amongst such luxury for months (but it seems much longer). So it comes that from our ivory tower we plot our next moves on the city; a wild beast that requires taming.

Madness aside, this part of town is fully immersed into its own vibe of atmosphere. Once dawn announces its presence, the pavements rapidly fill up with color coded plastic kiddie seats where the locals and outsiders alike go hard on the Bia hoi beer and xeo. Episodes of laughter echo through the alleyways while aromatic wafts of fried chicken permeate the air. The cafes are booming with hip city teenagers sipping their lattes and flavored bubble up tea (a sweet tea with goo balls added).

The choice of foods and snacks on offer is astounding. Garage-style eateries with all manner of fried goods on display, fighting for your custom. The locals go hard on it. Best of the bunch are the mobile doner kebab stands where they whip you up a sizzling but tender pita kebab in seconds, all for only 15,000 dong. Crazy! Pepperoni's is another instant hit - all you can eat pizza & pasta for 79,000 dong. Does life get any better really? A good place for people watching too, all five stories of it. All the well off young Vietnamese pop in on their lunch break and the narrow pavement outside congests with scooters. Properly set up now we can finally re-celebrate Alana's birthday (read our misadventures in Mai Chau) over the next couple of days. There's lots to do and entertainment is at a premium. But first some rice wine from the supermarket.

The center of Hanoi reaches around the lake so we stroll past the myriad of neon lit shops, have mince turnovers and spring rolls, enjoy coffees from a rooftop cafe and sit in on a nighttime session of water-puppeteering. This ancient art of waterpuppetry originates from the flooded rice paddy fields of North Vietnam and that's where it remains most alive, with farmers operating the multitude of puppet limbs from behind a bamboo screen. No surprise a few of them perished from all manner of water-borne diseases.

The contemporary setup hasn't changed by much, with the added exception that the audience is seated in plush and comfy loungers watching the play unfold in a waist deep basin of St Paddy's green water to the tunes of gongs, bamboo xylophones, flutes (sao) and one stringed zithers (dan bace). Some of the performances are incredibly eclectic and vivid; fishermen catching fish from their boats, fire spewing dragons and phoenixes courting a graceful dance. How do they pull it off? No less than 8 puppeteers emerge in their waders at the end of the show!

And so we wail away the days. Downtime is filled up with booking Lao visas, Halong Bay tours and train tickets, in between visits to Hoan Kiem lake (lake of the restored sword) and Ngoc Son temple which gravitates in the middle of it. Legend of the great golden tortoise who leaped out of the water and grabbed the sword from the emperor. Allegedly the turtle still swims around...

Dedicated to Confucius, the temple of Literature. Vietnam's first university from 1076, to educate the sons of Mandarins with its courtyards, gates and pathways. On emperor Le Thanh Tong's command 116 stelae were erected here from 1442 onwards to celebrate the achievements of its doctorate recipients. It's a pretty serene place to wander about, a break away from the city while idling the time away in its gardens.

The Hao Lo prison is another thought provoking sight we don't mind sweating several miles on the tarmac for. Better known as the Hanoi Hilton by the prominent US pilots pow's who spend some quality time here during the war. An Old yellow french brick facade is all that remains, courtesy of the skyscraper that was erected behind it not too long ago. It was popular, even John McCain spent some time here during his sabbatical, and he never got his flight-suit back either - gutted!

Most mind bending perhaps is the Vietnamese account of events that unraveled here. Dark filthy dinghy cells, most of the exhibits actually relate to the Vietnamese struggle for independence. It even has part of the original sewerage system some blokes escaped through back in the French era. Entertainment is provided by the great many photos and videos of the great time the American prisoners had during their time here. VIP treatment, Xmas parties, basketball and holiday camp activities to name just a few. Must be the best piece of propaganda we've seen so far and good for a laugh.

All of this is one big baloney sandwich of course. Bones were broken, souls were shattered, whips were cracked and the monthly electricity bill racked up too, aside from the usual bouts of malnourishment and disease. They were probably at least as good at it as the French and Americans, and the latter remain well practiced today. Yet, none of this is a particularly well kept state secret but it makes you wonder; who are they trying to convince so desperately, and why are they so bad at it?

Our last exploration in town, a venture into the wealthy areas. Amongst which the presidential palaces, embassies and administrative buildings reside. It's an important politically laden neighborhood, judging from the number of guards and guns doing the rounds. The elusive one pillar pagoda lies nigh. World famous in Vietnam we find out it is exactly that - a concrete pillar with a tiny pagoda perched on top. Not sure what to make of it.

Then the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum next door. An immensely imposing concrete cube inspired by the moody socialist, Leninist, Marxist architecture. You can imagine the thunderclouds brooding above it, yet its a shiny day. At 11am Pandora's box remains firmly shut, courtesy of the ludicrous early opening times it enforces. Bummer too, we really did want to see the revered Uncle Ho. Barred by invisible boundaries we cannot cross at the risk of being whistled at by the army of cops that swarm the cube, and guarding a dead body 24/7 they take their job seriously. We better be on our way.

It had to be Hanoi - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The center was started by Germans and locals back in 1993 and now houses well over 150 primates that have either been bred locally or rescued from pet hood or illegal traders (esp. to China to become medicinal ingredients). Here the primates are cared for, studied, and bred, before being released into the "semi wild" enclosures that surround the park grounds. The larger aim being to reintroduce these primates into their natural habitat. But for now that remains a tune for the future as hunting pressures are still too high. The black and yellow gibbons swing avidly and gracefully from their branches (14 species of gibbon), and the red-shanked Langurs look like they're wearing red shorts - their Vietnamese name translating to "monkey wearing shorts". How original! The grey-shanked Douc Langur was also bred in captivity just here. A world first!

The observation lookout, just within the park gates is a short and steep climb up to the tower. We're surrounded by a panorama of misty forested hills and silence except for the chorus of nature. Butterflies flutter around us and we relish in our new found isolation and tranquility.

It's still a 20km drive into the heart of the park where we'll be staying so we proceed through the dense jungle along a narrow road. Along the way we see a sign which we think is for a 300m walk to the "Cave of the Prehistoric Man". Turns out we misread the decrepit old sign and walk for an hour through jungle and karst with an absence of light, compliments to the dense jungle canopy. Turns out we were in the "Forest Loop Trail"- an adventurous deep trail which they strongly advise you take a guide for. Fair enough, the sign was rather overgrown. But luckily we can retrace our steps and make it out. Only to continue on and find the real cave quite obviously sign posted nearby.

With daylight fading, the vendors are quickly packing up to escape approaching darkness but we conclude it'll be dark in the cave anyway so continue into an amazing multi-chambered monster which does exceed all our expectations immensely! Human graves and tools were found here in 1966 which date back 7,500 years, making it one of the oldest sites of human habitation in Vietnam. Being pretty late we also have the cave to ourselves. With our trusty Kathmandu head-torch we climb the 3 tiers of stairs and explore many chambers adorned with stalactites, stalagmites and crystallized salt deposits shimmering in the torch light. It wouldn't make a bad pad!

Back on the dark secluded road, in a thicket of dense forest, we inhale the clear sweet air, our minds fresh from the raw nature. Clean crisp air, peace and quiet, harmonious nature, freedom. We've had too much consuming cities, pollution, traffic, incessant chatter, begging, pleading, selling, yelling, always compelling... now we're free, back to basics. So Alana considers her birthday to be tomorrow "I will not have much, but I will have it all". The only thing she does wish for is not to travel excessively and have good food! Not too much too ask... you'd think.

Our inflections are suddenly halted as we arrive at the "Bong". A stilted house gathers mist and a lone traveler wanders around the clearing in a trance. He approaches us and confirms our suspicions that this is an eerie place. As we speak the power surges into action and we are welcomed inside by the rest of Adam's crew. A couple of Brits, a Canadian and an Aussie. We have 4 hours of power remaining to sip green tea and get acquainted before heading down the road to the monopoly resto (the only resto for miles) to enjoy a shared meal and some beers until the power sleeps, advising us to do the same.

Awake to a a beautiful birthday blue sky - first clear sky for a very long time! Butterflies flutter in their millions (this is actually no exaggeration), birds chirp, insects hum, hungry tum! Birthday brekky at the monopoly resto - a choice of either vege noodle soup or stir fried vege noodle - oh you shouldn't have! Our trail of choice for today is the thousand year old Tree Loop Trail and Palace Cave - 7km through primary rain forest. Loud local school children swarm around the cave entrance but once we enter the cave, all is quiet. Once back, we enjoy a refreshing swim in the swimming pond and dry out in the sun. Majestic butterflies perform for us - synchronized fluttering in a line, then they link up and fly in a circle. Very elegant - until the grand finale when they home in on a pile of dog poo... filthy buggers!

We go once again to the Primate Rescue Center - true enough it was pretty good first time round. A great birthday present for Alana when their 2 gibbons swing in a basket and entertain us with their antics. We decide to continue our adventure towards Pu Luong Nature Reserve, a rather obscure park 65km away. It's already 3.30pm but how long can 65km really take? According to various people - 2hrs, 6hrs... nobody seems to know for sure. Our shoddy photocopied tourist maps don't prove conclusive either, different maps tell us different things. So we get amongst it and after about 1.5hrs the signs start coming "Cuc Phuong National Park"...2km...1km...0km"? What the hell, are we traveling back in time or what?

Okay, so the 65km mark starts from here, the other end of the park. How incredibly useful, especially since we had to drive around, and not through, the mountain ranges of the National Park to get here (a back track of 80km's as there was no straight A to B track access from where we were, but which was perhaps 30km's from where we are standing now...2 hours later). But lo' and behold there is a shiny new highway, the Ho Chi Minh Highway, that cuts right through the heart of the National Park otherwise (?!). It's definitely not the greenest solution but hey we don't complain. The road is empty and the fresh tarmac smooths our progress considerably. Now we can actually enjoy the scenery as opposed to vigilantly watching the 1001 potholes in the road. Nevertheless it'll be a stretch, 2 hours to go with 2 hours of daylight to spare doesn't leave a lot of time for finding our way to this village which is way out in the wops. Perhaps we'll have to spend the night in a rice paddy...

Mmm, we pass a traditional village perched along the highway which would otherwise have taken a 3 day tramp from the park's interior. Conscious of the impending darkness we only take a short moment to appreciate the sunset amid the outcrops of karst before we press on. We proceed as fast as the road conditions allow and wonder why everyone drives (dangerously) with their lights off. We soon find out and are forced to do the same to avoid getting smeared with kamikaze bugs. Finally we arrive at a small town called Canh Nang which very luckily has a hotel (audible sighs of relief). Sore butts, bones, but finally it's over. We've generously violated Alana's one prerequisite for a good birthday - to avoid long travel! Settled in, we desperately scrounge the streets for a meal and are eternally grateful for the noodle & meatball dish we get served up. Not exactly háute cuisine on a birthday but at this stage we'll eat anything. We do however manage to source beers and strawberry cream birthday cakes for a toast! Not bad for 4 hours spent moped driving! But you really wouldn't want to spend more time on a bike than that.

Next day, the epic journey is set to continue after a near useless visit to the Pu Luong Nature Reserve HQ. No advice here but we do get served warm tea by the friendly chaps. We plough on ahead to see if the ferry crossing into the park really does cost the 100,000d as told by HQ... we're dubious. In fact there is no ferry...but there is a bridge and it's free. The road is atrocious at best, but the scenery initially makes up for it - giant waterwheels, terraced rice paddies, water buffaloes, and small clusters of stilt villages. The road soon devolves into a goat track of sharp rocks and steep gradient, interspersed with mud pits. That wasn't on the glossy park map!! But we persevere and after a steady climb up we soon leave the river for dust and are high up in the mountains looking down at the valleys below. According to the map, this trail should be a cruisy 2hr journey... But the brochure is way ahead of its time and is boldly advertising a road that doesn't exist yet! Same goes for the river bridge near the end which shines through absence. We wade through with our bike while locals do their washing upstream. In the end it has taken us 6 hours to cover nearly 60km! Arguably we found our off the beaten track experience and it slapped us right in the face

We arrive in Mai Chau - stunning rice paddy fields and minority villages in the heart of the valley. We opt for the home-stay option in Pom Coong which boasts rustic experiences. No sooner do we approach the village, when we're snapped up by the lady of #1 home-stay (every house here is a homestay). We naively expect an immersion into rural life but instead watch as the lady of the house promptly evacuates her entire family, the kids carry the tv and video out, and we're left to our own devices in a huge, empty traditional stilt house. Pause... We drink green tea on a mat on the bamboo slated floor and observe the Vietnamese pop-stars adorning the walls - even Britney and Justin make a guest appearance. Most of the locals in Mai Chau are ethnic White Thai, and are amazing weavers as shown by the impressive array of textiles for sale underneath each stilt house, and the ladies on their looms outside. The family water buffalo watches as we pull water up from the well. In the darkness the rice paddies light up with fireflies, one leads us home where we crash out on our mattresses on the floor, a firefly for a night light, our energy fully depleted.

We awaken to the roosters crowing, people working and chatting, men spitting. The day has begun but there are still a couple of hours before daylight. The valley is engulfed in a lingering mist. We move to the next village (Lac) where we've found the perfect stilt-house - it overlooks the stream and rice fields, hammock below, all to ourselves, secluded paradise.

As we relax in the hammocks and walk through the paddies we observe rural life all around us. People working in the fields, pottering around the house. Mostly a quiet life.

We head into town for fresh fruit and cheap meals. Even less going on here. One meal that stands out for all the wrong reasons is a mix of rice, peanuts, veges, pork and chicken and a bowl of soupy slop with a carcass floating in it. The meat is scrap - inedible for any palate really. We eat what we can and vow never to return again. Sure enough we are both violently ill later... luckily our pad has multiple door-hinged traditional windows next to our bed! Bedridden for a day and the sky cries for us, so no loss.

After a few days we head back to Ninh Binh along the mountains, looking down at the villages below. The journey home only takes around 5hrs and goes by fast (compared to the last few days at least). Our Guest House very concerned as we'd told them we'd be away only 2-4 days but here we are now, muddy and fatigued, more than a week later. So where did you go? A map quickly pops out, as they scrutinize the bike for scratches. Surely you didn't take that road, our lady exclaims when she finger points to the gravel road along the park HQ - very bad condition!

Oops! Let's not tell her we took the route where there was no road at all. Outstayed our welcome most definitely. A mad rush around town follows as all the ATM's are out of order sequentially (of course). We have to persist and eventually we get moolah out and jump on the next bus to Hanoi.

Motorbike meandering to Mai Chau, Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Along the riverfront friendly locals drink beer from kegs. They try entice us to join them at their stations but we've just woken up - maybe later guys! We join some locals for green tea and a fun game of shirades enables a very basic form of communication. We're joined by a businessman who speaks little English and proceeds to invite us to his shop to meet his wife. More shirades follow... He is Guido's age and his 23yr old wife is pregnant with their first child. Ultimately, the inevitable question arises - "why don't you have children?". We read utter incomprehension on their faces when we plead our case, since "children are happiness" they say...

We drink another weasel (poo) coffee and carrot shakes. Maybe we really should learn some Vietnamese to prevent us from ordering such oddities off the menu! We relax with some flaming cocktails, melt a few straws, start a fire... an uneventful night.

To truly appreciate the nearby attractions, we hire a motorbike and head 9km away to the countryside where karst rock formations erupt from the fields of rice paddies. Built into a karst cave is "Bich Dong Pagoda" (Jade Grotto) where burning incense pervades the senses while sun and rain fight to break through the overcast skies. A holy site of pilgrimage for Vietnamese - quiet and tranquil (only until the tour buses arrives - abort abort!).

Various back roads reward us with idyllic karst landscapes, decorated with houses and cemeteries backing onto mountains, a sea of green lapping at their doors.

Enough procrastinating - time to brave the touristy and potentially financially hazardous boat trip up the river - the Tam Coc Tango as they call it. We pay entry fees 30,000 Dong each plus another 60,000 for the boat. We sit back and relax while two guys row us up the Ngo Dong River. Soon enough Guido is handed a paddle and puts in the token stroke while the primary and secondary rower row away. Lots of muscle power going on for a river that other rowers paddle lazily with their feet (no doubt a fair bit of extortion for tips and souvenirs will come our way - we've been warned!). But mostly, Tam Coc is renowned for its grotesque and low caves that the river flows through, and life is superb while we cruise through these, surrounding rice paddies and rugged limestone formations. Soon we spot the first fellow tourists on their return trip - getting pestered by their secondary rower to buy t-shirts and embroidery souvenirs. Let's dance!

We vow to remain strong and when our secondary rower tries it on with us we do not buy into it. Nor do we succumb to the pressures of the ladies who chase us through the caves with their assorted foods/drinks on their boats. They try unsuccessfully to scam us into buying drinks for our rowers (which they sell straight back to the vendor for half the extortionate price). Very cheeky! By this stage our secondary rower has realized that we are a lost cause and duly bails onto another boat. An unprovoked outburst from our primary rower follows demanding we tip the other 'poor' guy. Guido happily infuriates him further by asking him for a tip. True enough, Guido did at least, if not more, rowing than the other guy! Almost back and our rower changes his tune - he's happy now. Tipping time comes around the corner and we give more than a day's wage. Another outburst follows as he demands double. Pretty ungrateful. Still we had a great time admiring the surroundings and managed to avoid getting scammed too badly!

We take the scenic back road route and accidentally end up at Mua Groti, where a daunting staircase winds up to the top of a small pagoda which looks out over the river (we'd actually spotted this from the boat earlier). This stairway to Heaven really takes your breath away (literally and figuratively). At peace we sit here and enjoy the panoramic views of nature at its best. Somehow we've also finally escaped the sellers and the noise. So there are limits to how far they will come to pawn off their goods...

Pressing on, we head to the ancient citadel of Hoa Lu; the capital of Vietnam from 968 - 1009, chosen for its natural protection by the surrounding karst. It is undergoing seriously major reconstruction so we seek solitude in the two remaining temples up top, paying homage to the giant Buddha within (and seeking shelter from the dynamite blasting of rock outside - hello safety reg's???). Inside we're especially quiet and respectful (as our teeth are glued shut with toffee snacks).

Time for Thit Cho at a dodgy looking local resto out on the back roads. Alana is very reluctant while Guido gets stuck right in. Tastes kinda like roast beef. A petrified/mortified Alana works herself up to take a bite. Oh how the tides have turned from when dogs took bites out of Alana - ha! Meanwhile Guido is skulling shots of rice wine with the local guys. Since it is rude to refuse, they all take turns challenging Guido... it wasn't a big bottle anyway (and only 10 000 dong!). Before we take our leave the chef brings out his specialty dessert - and he proudly presents us with a plate of doggie kneecaps... maybe it was the rice wine that made G think it was a good idea to try this...

At the bottom of our dog bowl remains what we think are spring rolls - G tries them, and confirms that they are most definitely not spring rolls. We inquire with the chef who points at his intestines. Mmm, time to leave. We don't get far though before we head back for something we left behind. We get pulled in again by the same guys for some green tea - and the rice wine makes another appearance. Such firewater is not for the girls however and Alana, by now, bored with not getting invited to drink with the guys does so anyway - receiving a seriously stern growling from the elder of the group in the process. Instead she may pour Guido rice wine shots while subsisting on green tea (grrr)! But Alana the devil's advocate gets the last laugh the next morning when Guido is on his death bed (mwahaha).

Nibbling on Kneecaps in Ninh Binh - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Then a 2 hour long uneventful journey as we make our way to Dong Ha, an equally unremarkable town pitched near the South shore of the Ben Hai River - the defacto demarcation line that, like present day Korea, once separated North from South. Drawn roughly across the 17th parallel following a stalemate between the Ho Chi Minh-controlled government and the french colonial forces, this segment of Vietnam soon turned into the focal point of a drawn out conflict. Special Forces Base Camp Carrol, Con Thien Fire-base, Lang Vay, Hamburger Hill, Khe San and Cunningham; familiar household names linger the landscape. Most of them clustered within the 20 km radius along McNamara's defense wall, extending east to west, to prevent infiltration from the North.

Our tour, like any other organized trip here, always to be taken with a generous sense of humor, speeds along Highway 1 to Doc Mieu base-camp. Faded photos and pigeon English provide narration as we warp into time. Not sure what to expect from all this. The enormous amount of American firepower that went in (40,000 tonne of explosives where dropped around Con Thien base alone in Sept '67) suggests visions of the Armageddon apocalypse - a sparse wasteland pockmarked with bomb-craters, half-destroyed bunkers and pill boxes, trenches overgrown with weeds and leftover shell casings. Mmm, perhaps a canny and morbid fascination for the darker side of mankind's savagery?

But there's none of this at all. As we tread nearer, hedges of lush foliage greet us from which eludes a grand granite statue iron curtain style. Three pacing guerrilla's with their guns ready at the draw frozen timelessly in stone. We're left to wonder what it represents but assume it celebrates the endless dedication, sacrifice and patriotism for the motherland. A fairly safe assumption we figure as there are legions of statues which celebrate communist victory all over the country. One will be forgiven to think there are two sides to any story. But in Vietnam, this (South Vietnamese) side of the story remains predominantly expressed through the many mass graves that have been bulldozed and war cemeteries that have long since fallen into disrepair, willful neglect from a regime that prides itself with reunification. However, as of yet there are no tours taking us there.

Driving across the Ben Hai River, the abundance of lush foliage, rubber plantations and ever green rice paddies seems to suggest that people may have moved on from their fiery past four decades ago. The occasional bomb craters, barren depressions several feet deep on which nothing grows even today, break up the endless green of the paddy fields. Thatched houses have been built around them and crater lakes provide a means of living, functioning as fish hatcheries.

Visibly few tangible links remain between the past and present. Yet dig deeper and one might stumble upon remnants of scrap-metal. A thriving and lucrative, but equally dangerous trade in metal scraps from mines, projectiles and other assorted unexploded ordinance continues. And with six million unexploded projectiles remaining in the ground, and a fifth of Vietnam's surface area affected, it's a trade that's set to continue for a wee while.

The nearby Vinh Moc tunnels are something else altogether. An incredible underground network of passageways spanning around 28 km with tiny chambers providing necessities of life; including an underground nursery where 17 odd babies were delivered. We're lead around by a munty little tunnel rat and as such are not exactly convinced that we'll see the light of day again. The musty smell of damp clay fills the air and sure enough we eventually unearth at the beach on the other side.

Other places we visit require a bit more imagination. Such as the "rock pile" which aside from the Marine lookout once perched on top is exactly that; a piece of bare rock. Or take the Dakrong suspension bridge which crosses a famous branch of the formerly and now tar-sealed Ho Chi Minh trail.

Then our final and perhaps most famous stop - Khe San combat base solemnly awaits on a high hill plateau which tapers off to deep forested valleys below. A small museum, re-enacted bunkers and rusty military hardware don't do away from the hazy atmosphere and tranquility that surrounds this small outcrop.

A peaceful vibe reinforced by a multitude of chirping birds and neatly manicured hedges that line the various pavements to helicopters and anti-aircraft apparel. It's hard to comprehend that 200 American soldiers and another 10,000 North Vietnamese died on this spot amid a blaze of saturation bombing, machine-gun fire and exploding mortar rounds - perhaps the bloodiest and fiercest battle of the conflict.

It blows proportions so it's hard to get a handle on such things. With mixed impressions I stare back at my reflection from the Chinook helicopter window which radiates in the glow of the afternoon sun. Evidently, the local Vietnamese have long since moved on - maybe we should too...

A Whirlwind of War Tourism, Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Being first timers and having spent most of our time on dodgy local buses left us wondering how the masses of tourists got around. They certainly weren't wedged in between sacks of potatoes and elderly farm ladies salivating over betel nut on dodgy local transport. With that mystery duly solved now it also explains why this random guy on our bus is shoving his business card in our faces. Since he really doesn't want to leave us alone voluntarily and (yet again) we haven't got the foggiest clue where we are we decide to temporarily enlist his services. And so he whips out his rather professional looking business card and shows us the way to the river. Not very far that way? Sweet, with our location challenge solved we set off. Leaving behind a confused Vietnamese with a trace of daft recognition flickering in his eyes as he realizes he's been had. That's role reversal for a change.

A slog down the main drag along the Perfume river follows, where rather suddenly an alleyway pops up with all the guesthouses in hiding. There are not many visitors around these days it appears. All the owners out on the street outbidding each other for our custom being the dead giveaway. One of the upmarket hotel managers promptly shows us his best room. TV kaput he continues, finger pointing at the carton 'box' that now replaces it. We chuckle, as the pun must surely be unintended. But it's an easy choice today; one lady is by far the friendliest and offers us a deal we can't refuse.

Peacefully nestled on the banks of the Perfume river lies the citadel city of Phu Xuan. Encircled by a moat and a thick retainer wall of some 5 metres high and 10 kilometres long, Emperor Gia Long and his Nguyen dynasty ruled much of the country that is present day Vietnam. The history of this place is as colourful and turbulent as the Perfume River itself. Staunchly objecting to colonial rule over Tonkin in 1885, French infantry promptly razed the city to the ground, burning the imperial library and confiscating from the palace all items not firmly bolted to the floor - nice!

The '68 Tet offensive followed and the Vietcong took over for a couple of weeks, eliminating 2,500 people, so called unfavorable reactionary elements to the regime, in the process. In response, over the next few weeks anything left standing inside the citadel was subjected to a barrage of American artillery and South Vietnamese ground offensives, killing another Vietnamese 10,000 brethren. And, shaded by dark purple skies which envelope the city in a damp broody climate somehow it's that impression the city leaves behind today; a veneer of former imperial grandeur replaced with sheer weariness. Still, many of Hue's inhabitants proudly live within its citadel walls.

With daylight slipping we make our way across the Perfume River to the citadel for a late exploratory nosey. Bathed in the strong purple hue this river is justifiably famous for we wander through one of the many fortified gates that guard the enclosure. Little too late it seems as a massive exodus of people preempts the city in front of us; the working day has finished. Aside from playing with some tanks and anti aircraft apparel there remains little to do but to search for a nourishing feed. Not much of that either it appears. Only one avenue lined with street vendors in town and they all sell garden snails marinated in chillies, with quail eggs I might add. Incredibly random, but worth the try? After all the French managed to make snails palatable with lots of garlic, and the slimy creatures from the Mekong Delta with their subtle lemongrass flavouring were also divine. But no trifling with such subtle aromas today, it really does taste distinctly like snail - fleshy, gritty and earthy flavors all fight for dominance of our taste papilla at the same time. Yep, it's definitely snail - no arguing about that. Yet another gastronomic delight we have had the opportunity to sample!

Fueled by eggy omelets, jam baguettes and a brew of coffee strong enough to stir the dead we set off to explore the Citadel proper. Meandering at a snail's pace through its streets we come, amongst others, by the Perfume River (we get to do this a few times), makeshift street stalls selling aquarium utensils (of all things), a true Ho Chi Minh shop selling communist household items (as well as a huge golden bust of the man himself), and herbal pharmacies selling jarred monitor lizards and associated fowl - whole or in pieces, your pick. There's also lots of war paraphernalia on display; cracked aviator helmets, rusty bullets, dog tags, and sure enough there's even a claymore antipersonnel mine for sale, hopefully defused. See if we can smuggle that through customs.

Once in the Citadel again we soon find ourselves pondering Hue's mighty flag tower waving the communist star; Vietnam's tallest at 37 metres. Its terrace a playground for a multitude of school children. Flanked by the nine Holy cannons which represent the four seasons and five elements, the symbolic protectors of the imperial palace and its kingdom. Never designed to actually fire a shot they stand witness to what little remains of the Emperor's royal court today.

Weighing in at 10 tonnes each they won't take off in a hurry so we wander across the road to Ngo Mon Gate - the principal gateway to the imperial enclosure. Cubed in by a 6 meter high, 2.5 kilometre defense wall it is sort of a citadel within a citadel. Richly decorated with meeting quarters on top (the Belvedore of the five Phoenixes) for such occasions as royal coronations it was obviously never intended for mere mortals like ourselves.

Inside, a bridged lotus pond with millions of mentally challenged carp who vigorously and repeatedly respond to pretend feeding, separates us from the mighty Thai Hoa Palace. A spacious chamber whose dragon-lined timber roof is supported by no less than 80 lacquered carved columns. Used mostly for state occasions such as official receptions and court proceedings it was where the mandarins paid homage to their emperor. Wandering through the hall you can imagine it happening.

But unfortunately one of the reasons it requires such elaborate description is because it is also one of the few monuments that remains standing, having survived the onslaught brought about it by successive wars. Walking through we enter the inner courtyard, sided by the onerous Halls of Mandarins in anticipation of officious receptions. Behemoth cauldrons dominate the yard, where you can drop a penny for good blessing or have your photo taken donned in imperial outfit (you pay extra to take place on the throne).

Beyond lies the Forbidden Purple City; the core of this lavish imperial cosmos. Once the holiest of inner citadels, and reserved purely for the Emperor's use. Not much remains now. Sad, even the ruins are gone. A laden air of nothingness hangs in the drizzly air which hangs over the grassy plains ahead.

Alas, such nothingness can only be cured by a mighty feed, and a taste of imperial cuisine might just do the trick. Seated in an oldish pagoda-style dining area of traditional design - a Hue family home which overlooks a peaceful pond, we go straight for the vodka and a seven course feast. Peacock lookalikes with carefully crafted carrot heads and pineapple stalk tails play host to spring roll overload. Royal banh khoai (rice cakes), steamed lotus seed rice, and green bean cake molded like fruit draped from branches.

A remnant of Emperor Tu Duc's (1843-83) legacy who demanded 50 different dishes, prepared by 50 cooks, served by 50 servants each and every meal. How's that for extravagance? Only washed away properly with a hot brew of Vietnamese coffee at a serene lakeside garden cafe where a condensed milk coffee cost as much as a rum coffee - we came to the right place!

Running out of things to do we venture further out of town, aboard a true dragon boat - mighty fine! Such little tours often schedule unforeseen activities, such as cruising past poor floating, incense and conical hat-making villages and sitting in on elaborate kung fu demo's. Fun little side trips but most of our tourist colleagues remain outside, duly disgruntled about the extra $1 admission fee that wasn't incorporated in the $6 all-day tour fee. So our crew scatters; the consequent rounding up of this chicken pen proves time costly, and so we run behind schedule for the rest of the day =). No worries, such activity ambitious tours always do.

Icing on the cake, and one of the main reasons for signing up is an opportunity to see Thien Mu pagoda. This 21-metre high octagonal stepped tower looms from the banks of the Perfume river. Such majesty leaves the monks in contemplation. The unofficial symbol of Hue city, it comes with stunning pavilions, manicured courtyards, bronze cast bells and many Buddha's. The place is also renowned for its entrenched political history; many a peaceful demonstration has taken place here on this hill since the sixties.

1963; It was from here that monk Thich Quang Duc protested Diem's harsh government policies and drove to Saigon, to publicly immolate himself to death - his image continues to haunt people's minds. Today, the aqua-colored Austin Martin remains undercover, its panel work left to the elements.

Our memorial time here runs dry; next stop another nondescript temple. Mmm, temple overload, we sit it out. Ten kilometres further south we approach the Minh Mang tomb, Hue's royal ruler from 1820-1840. A majesty hard to describe on paper and which has to be seen to be done justice truly. More of an extravagant mausoleum than a tomb, this sepulchre burial mound lies surrounded by a circular wall that nobody may cross. And set amidst the crescent-shaped lakes of Tan Nguyet (lake of the New Moon) in a phenomenal park of pine trees bedazzled with stone staircases, court yards, temples and grand pavilions which harmoniously blend into its green environment - a crazy place to wander around!

Such handfuls of these royal tombs remain scattered around the area. Back into town, we pass through a popular eatery before our final departure - Hanoi beers, hot coffees, delicious prawn pancakes, plates of salad and peanuts, and bowls of green bananas and figs -a Hue specialty.

Dragonboats and Imperial hangouts in Hue, Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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But we soldier on into the riverside market where locals are buying their fresh produce and seafood, and tourists are stuck at the souvenir stalls 'please buy something', 'just have a look'. All the attention is quite overwhelming so we duck into a quaint riverside restaurant called 'friendships' (which conveniently also appears to have the cheapest beer). The 'fresh draught beer' goes down a treat, especially at 50c NZ per 500ml glass! Being the cheapest beer EVER, it's easy to overindulge... And before we know it, it's come to dinner time so we order a 3 course set menu for $3 NZ with all the Hoi An specialities: 1. White Rose - shrimp encased in rice paper, steamed and seasoned 2. Fried Wonton's (Banh Xeo) - covered with sauteed sweet 'n sour veges and prawns, and 3. Cau Lau - doughy flat noodles with croutons, bean sprouts, fresh herbs and BBQ pork slices. A delicious feast indeed! To top it off, every meal comes with a free caramel creme dessert. Needless to say, Friendships has won us over!

In the days to come we get to know the staff rather well and even have our own table out front with pristine river views where we wile away the day watching people, but primarily drinking beer. School girls in traditional Ao Yai dress pile onto the ferries with their bicycles, vendors selling pork buns, peanuts and drinks, while we work our way down the menu. But we get stuck on the best sweet 'n' sour duck ever! In fact, sweet 'n' sour finds its way into most of our meals in different incarnations. So occasionally we branch out to the other waterfront 'al fresco' eateries where we get delish Mi Quang. A fusion of flavours made up of doughy flat noodles with herbs, veges, quail eggs, pork, peanuts, and dried shrimp. This place is truly foody heaven!

Founded as a foreign colony it soon became a major international trading port (during the 17th to 19th century), until the river silted up. So today Hoi An remains a tourist town, albeit a charming one! We purchase a 'Hoi An Old Town' ticket (75,000d each) which enables us access to a choice of heritage attractions. We pick the best of the bunch, starting with a visit to the Japanese covered bridge. Constructed in the 1590's by the Japanese community of Hoi An to provide a link with the Chinese quarters across the stream.

Proceeding to the Museum of Trading Ceramics which showcases excavated ceramics from over 2200 years ago. The Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation, now transformed into a temple to worship the deity from Fujian Province; the stunning gilded chamber teems with history and symbolism, decorated with dragons, paintings, and statues among delicate flower gardens and courtyards. Inside, large incense coils burn overhead. Quite seductive and serene.

Nearby a traditional cultural performance kicks off at the handcraft workshop. Listening to local acoustics and song, we watch dramatic dancing depicting daily village life. At the back of this 200 year old Chinese Trading House, artisans produce silk paintings, lanterns and wooden carvings - including a buddha with over 1000 hands (a six month effort!).

Tan Ky House was built early 19th Century by Vietnamese, Chinese and Japanese. Their different styles exhibited in their creation. Every wet season (Nov-Dec) the three generations who reside here have to move all the furniture upstairs to escape the flooding. Watermarks on the walls are testament to last years 2m high flooding! In fact, the whole town has to adapt to this periodical flooding. The streets filled with boats while everyone lives on the first floor during the monsoon - a real water world. More museums and temples follow... time to reward ourselves for lasting all day without beer... with more beer.

Hoi An by night is an enchanting place. The lanterns glow bright and fill the shops, the trees, yes even giant lanterns in the river - luminous giant fish, ox, turtle, lotus flower. The lanterns must cast a spell over us for we are drawn to a truly decadent french-style patisserie like moths to a lantern, where we give in to temptation and devour chocolate cheesecake, truffle cake, and tiramisu. Heavenly! The spell has been cast and, against our will, we are drawn back every night without fail. Luckily these are seriously magical desserts!

To get to the Ancient Champa Kingdom (another UNESCO World Heritage Site) 'My Son', we resort to a bus tour. Our young guide 'Spider' elaborates on the plan, for we are 'Spider Team' now. He proceeds to spoon feed us in an amusingly American reality TV-accented broken English, where every sentence is preceded with a 'back in the old days...', and aptly ends his oration with a 'and now it's broken'. Then just in case we didn't grasp his wise words he'd repeat himself in similar fashion. Still, everyone clings to his every word, following a narrative straight out of 'are you smarter than a 5th grader' - funny that. Time for action; a convoy of old seventies US army jeeps (with over 750.000km on the clock) take us to the actual ruins - which resides in stunning jungle.

We break free from our web and explore the different temple groups at our leisure. Since My Son was used solely for praying (during the late 4-13th century), most of the temples were dedicated to the Cham Kings associated with Hindu divinities, particularly Shiva; founder and protector of Champa's dynasties. Unfortunately not to be. The Viet Cong too, used it as a fall out base, with a resulting unparalleled destruction from above. Numerous bomb craters signed off by the Americans remain today. Hence the 'broken' part. Restoration is ongoing for the remaining 20 odd brick ruin-like structures. The site is truly dilapidated and if it weren't for the museum in Danang, it would be hard to grasp the context of this site. Still, the Cham people today remain a substantial ethnic minority in Vietnam with over ~100,000 people.

Back in Hoi An we enjoy sweet strong coffees across the river, a ritual turned daily. Persistent children try to sell us crappy trinkets but by now we've mastered the art of disinterest and they quickly move on to the softies next to us - a couple of Ozzies. We'd heard that frozen yogurt is a local specialty here so we place the order. Two packaged shop-bought refrigerated yogurts come out. Hey at least they could have put it in a bowl to pretend it was real!

Regardless, nicely fueled by caffeine we embark on a mission to the 500 odd tailor shops with the intention of ordering suits and the like. And over the next few days we become true fashion experts on fabric, prices, quality, workmanship, lapels, seams, single breasted, double breasted.. and begin by ordering tailor made woolen jackets with satin/silk lining. Good fun going in for fittings and being treated like royalty over something so cheap. In the end we relinquish the suits; more trouble than they're worth we reckon. The ties however are a safe(r) bet. For just $3 USD you get a sweet silk tie here. Looks tight until you start to pay attention to workmanship, and start discarding one after another for being plain filthy, off the mark, or just plain crooked. One of the ties even truly veers off to the left. How did they manage that we wonder? Sizing up the various ties our Vietnamese lady proudly exclaims 'much cheaper than home'. True enough, but we have a little process back home called quality control so we don't have to sift through hundreds off bogus ties. The lady then pokes fun at Guido for the rather substantial tear in his shirt. 'New shirt, Sir?' bearing a wide and sarcastic smile. Guido kindly defers, he's already wearing a Vietnam quality number 1 shirt. Mmm, perhaps we've been here too long.

Time to explore beyond our usual haunts. We hire bicycles and push on through towards Cua Dai Beach (Hoi An's end of China Beach). We pass pretty rivers, rice paddies, more tailor shops, and end up between the palms on the beach. Chatting to local women who try to sell us oreo's, chopsticks, tiger balm, and pretty much everything! Covered in long cotton pants, long sleeves and gloves they must be sweating up a storm. Back to Hoi An where we finally venture over the bridge to circle Cam Nam Island. Not much there but it's good to look at the old town from a different perspective. Well, surely we deserved our daily dose of 'Friendship' now so we enjoy our roasted peanuts and beer while looking back over the river.

Our last night is when the monthly Full Moon Lantern Festival takes place. Motorbikes are banned from the old town which duly comes alive with even more lanterns than usual, cultural performances, games etc. People emerge from the shadows en masse, and children run around selling floating candle-lit lanterns to set free on the river. A great time had absorbing the heavenly Hoi An.

Hoi An Heaven - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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$50.000 dong (~USD $3.5)?! Surely nothing should cost that much. For that kind of money we expect to be carried into town on a gilded throne. Whiffs of an unpleasant odour smell much like a scam. Now what? Neither of us budge on prices. Now this is very much like being dealt an unknown hand of cards. Town may be a few minutes away, but then again it might not be. We decide to call their bluff and walk into town - a bad idea from the outset it turns out.

Several kilometers and two hours later, soaked in perspiration and with our wet shirts clinging to our backs we soldier on under the ever vigilant watch of a scorching hot sun, until eventually we cave in. The city remains as far away as ever much like a desert mirage. In retrospect we should have known - after all it is still the fourth largest city in Vietnam. At least the motodrivers followed us through in a typical donkey and carrot stick approach, and for 30.000 dong (minus the 3km we covered on foot) we soon breeze through the innards of Danang central.

City central is buzzing with motorbikes, lively bars & shops, and classy restaurants. A seedy legacy still lingers from the sixties when Danang made its living from a thriving and profitable entertainment industry serving the nearby American army base (you want some boom boom?). Still it has cleaned up its ways to some respect and the flashy bars and resto's look impressive with lots of great goat places offering their version of Thit de (so been there). And there are many other affordable meals to be had - some delectable such as braised swan, some not so (like sea cucumber). Being shoe stringed we opt for a local hole-in-the-wall eatery serving mouth watering pork meatball sandwiches and, even better, cold hamburgers for only 10.000 dong. For now being late afternoon, it remains a waiting game until tomorrow.

Early the next morning we charter a motorbike and going through the gears we soon honk our way into a mad dash of traffic, heading past China Beach towards the mighty marble mountains. Five craggy marble peaks each soar into the sky ahead of us. According to Vietnamese folklore, they each represent a natural element; Tho Son (earth), Moc Son (wood), Kim Son (metal), Hoa Son (fire), and the most famous of all Thuy Son (water). Highly celebrated and richly decorated with ornate pagoda's, passageways and assorted Confucian shrines you'd be forgiven for thinking such a popular place would be well signposted.

Instead we're lost in the the maze of back alleyways that is Non Nuoc - a well known marble carving village that surrounds the rocky crags. Too many polished happy Buddha's here. Ironically most marble for these statues is actually imported from China these days, the very reason we still have something to look at today - spot the fridge on the motorbike in front of us:

As it turns out we find the other four lesser elements first. Bravely contending with the leftovers of Vietnamese pilgrimage we follow the mounds of garbage checkpoints and foul pee smelling cave trails that lead the way. Not quite as polished as the marble they produce but we do have the place to ourselves. Last but not least we track down Thuy Son, and what a spectacular sight to behold. Steep flights of stairways lead to a reclusive Buddhist sanctuary, well tended gardens, and several cathedral like caves within a hidden valley nestled on top - granting supreme sweeping vista's over life below.

Leaving the mountains behind we drive back towards Monkey mountain along a mostly empty beachfront - China Beach. Perhaps mostly familiar with the GI's who were sent here on their R&R or the namesake eighties television series. Not much remains. The crescent shaped beach lies desolate, its anchored fishing fleet rocked by occasional surf waves while the proverbial tumbleweeds roll down the sand. Being lunchtime on the beach we give the aptly named "Phuc My 2" resto a miss and instead hit up a baguette slash mystery meat street stall.

Before moving on to Hoi An however, we do seek out the "Museum of Cham sculpture". Founded by the Ecole Francaise 'd Extreme Orient back in 1915, it houses an exotic otherworldly collection of sandstone carvings amongst which are funky carved linga's (the mighty fertility penis), garuda's (man eagle demons), ganesha's (the elephant kid, remover of obstacles) and famous Hindu deities Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu. The place is truly entertaining since the curators have put a great deal of effort into incorporating the exhibits into walls, nooks and corners - pretty cool! To jazz it up a bit we play a game of "who can imitate the wackiest divine moves". What else to do in a museum?

Marble madness in Danang remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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A well accepted but short 300km section follows Highway 14 from Kon Tum to Giang, near Danang. We seek out the tourist resource center in pursuit of a motorbike we hope to use for this leg of our trip. But alas, it's not to be. 'Nobody does that' is the guy's autonomic response and hitherto he doesn't have a bike to rent out anyway. Either way, if we're keen on one of his trekking expeditions that go way out in the sticks of the Central Highlands instead? Intriguing but unfortunately we're on a clock with places to be other than bamboo spirit villages. Still looks interesting though. Kon Tum and its surrounding areas were carpet bombed by B52 raids during several decisive battles back in 1972 - and historical Dakto and Charlie Hill only lie 40km's north from here. Unrest among ethnic minority villages since means most of these areas are still subject to stringent permit restrictions. All in all making it raw and untouched hiking territory. Meanwhile we have to kill the day one way or another so we go for a wander about town.

Walking down a Nguyen Hue road (there's lots of those) several Bahnar minority 'hoods' cross our path. Several gravel roads where naked cows, pigs and buffaloes intermingle chowing grass, amongst children playing soccer on the fields in dirty shirts but no undies. The raised Rong houses here are community venues; only for such times as ceremonies and festivals. Only their thatched roofs distinguish these ethnic parts from the rest of town. I know what you're thinking...no not the entire town runs around without undies.

Another cotton candy cathedral, by now we have truly entered the outskirts of Kon Tum proper - we're 2km's out. Sights become a bit grim so we duck into a coffee shop - Eva's cafe. . A miniature hill tribe village fantasy of gardens, swings and bamboo structures which set off a wild array of gongs tied to the trees. The owner is an inviting chap and soon we're chatting away about the history of the area and his background. How he was born in this garden with his siblings, developed it into his dream over the last 20 years and how his dad went missing in action during the war. With a gained wealth of the region he leaves us to it, turning on his sprinkler system as he does so. A fine mist of droplets descends down on us from the gutters above - much appreciated at 37 degrees.

Dinner we find just around the corner and, seated amongst long banners of mountain goats out in the alps which invoke that outdoor feel, we get served a Thit de - a coconut milk based goat curry. A mighty fine feed, bar the hoof that comes floating up when the curry draws to an end. Darn, they always pull our legs like this. Duly swollen, being waterlogged from marinating in curry broil for several days its skin has a rubbery texture to it - very much like the bodies they retrieve after being dumped in waterways for a few days (or so CSI has taught us). Dilligently nibbling on the latex skin Guido wasn't even rewarded with any meat.

Leaving day also starts early and frantic; hordes of hawkers swarm us pushing all forms of transport. Timely a bus headed for Danang pulls out of the gates - sweet. Sweet, if not for the minibus driver that Guido exchanges looks with for a few seconds too long. Adamant that we want to go with him he proceeds to bar entry to our bus, verbally abusing the driver, ticket man and passengers in the process, for stealing his fictional non-existing ride. Much to the amusement of all involved his beration goes on for several minutes, all the while still blocking our way. Few options remaining we (Guido) pick him up by the waist and put him aside - we have a ride to catch! Vietnamese have a tender built so you can get away with this kind of stuff. The journey through the mountains is nothing short of phenomenal. 'Slash and burned' steppes and plains make way for gentle hills, still bearing the scars of ceaseless Agent Orange defoliation campains from above, until we reach the jungle forest cover of the mountain ranges proper.

The crew on the bus are a jovial bunch of outgoing middle-aged local people. Keen to know what we're up to and where our travels are taking us, they congenially show us the ropes on 'Xeo' whiskey shots. Not yet noon, this is all aptly instigated by our heavy-footed bus driver. Only by a miracle do we get to Danang in one piece... But then that's what miracles are for.

Kon Tum Timewarp - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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There's a strong historical connection here too. New Zealand used to provide money and staff to the provincial hospital back in the sixties. This link still continuous today with the NZ volunteer service abroad involved in various health and agricultural related development projects as well as providing specialists for the local hospital - go us!

Our guesthouse too is run by a fellow kiwi and comes highly acclaimed but is rather low on substance. Sulky staff and their decision to re-tile the entire roof during our stay probably has something to do with that. Besieged by a battering of sledgehammers we flee our room and venture out to the city beyond. Wandering the backstreets and alleyways we find the local Vietnamese going about their daily business, totally unperturbed by our presence - a welcome change. Maybe it's because they're all watching television at work. A cyclo driver passes us by with an enormous fish for a passenger, it's tail sticking out to the side. We can wait for the next one.

The many kids that roam the streets don't let any opportunity go by to hail us with hello's and cheers. We're quite the novelty. Left to our own devices we scurry around town, in hot pursuit for food. Quite a few streets and many cafe's later but no food; the fresh produce market, people carting off huge fish, blocks of ice etc... Not an easy task finding food, people just don't seem to eat around here. Moreover the few places that do close up during lunchtime - handy. Until, just before we run out of steam, we turn a corner and find a fab local resto with foreign menu's but local prices. Huge platters of marinated steak, three wholesome squid with their cartilage spines intact, egg, rice, salad, soup and tea for just 15.000 dong (~1 USD). Unbelievably the couple who run it are super friendly too. A self assuming open friendliness still prevails in this town which doesn't yet come with a price tag - refreshing.

At night time the promenade turns into a fun fair of sorts; sugarcane juice stalls, endless rows of plastic chairs, kids running around, teenagers and adults socializing. Tiny specks of illumination dot the bay; squid boat floodlights. Next day we're up at the crack of dawn, in unison with the builders on our roof. Breakfast, once again we seek desperately for a feed; something cheap and simple like pho should do. No stone goes unturned but to no avail - locals simply don't do breakfast around here. Back to yesterdays place where we get more than we bargain for. Huge slabs of tofu with meat inside - the best of both worlds. Not much else to do but relax so we head off to the Saigon Quy Nhon hotel which takes a prominent spot at the waterfront. Seated in their rooftop bar we sip our coffee's (which cost us more than our breakfast) and soak up the stunning panoramic views across the bay.

While we're not staying any of their $100 rooms we do decide to test drive their swimming pool for 20.000 dong per hour. And the pampering session that follows is a whole other kettle of fish. One hour of massage by two feisty little girls who proceed to pummel Alana black & blue. Bones and vertebrae are systematically cracked, followed by some walking up and down her back to put them back in place followed by a violent 90 degree twist to the head to supple it up - ouch! Another pursuit for food ends up in a non-descript alleyway. No gangsters here, just surprised locals with tiny makeshift stalls who usher us in for a feed - hoorah! Creme brulee custard and savoury pancakes rolled in shrimp and beansprout. As evening comes the plastic deck chairs come out along the promenade and throngs of locals downing Saigon beer animatedly socializing.

Here we are on the beach, low tide. In pursuit of a semi submerged yankee tank, allegedly driven into the sea near the end of war to prevent it from falling into enemy hands. We search hard and wide our imagination primed and almost make one up on the spot. Only later do we learn that they excavated the thing last year for display in a fancy museum - bugger we're too late. That's another thing about Vietnam - everything is in museums but some things are better left untouched. We do however come across a graveyard of beached fishing tubs, surely there for our entertainment!

We wonder why they are not of a more streamlined design - until a local fisherman rolls his boat onto shore. Genius!

Leaving the next day doesn't prove easy either with our bus drivers humorous but serious attempts to double charge us for our packs on top of our tickets. That'd be fine if it weren't for the fact that he'd already pre-allocated all his luggage space behind the seats, under the seats, next to the seats, with commission paying eggs, potatoes, chickens, karaoke machines and whatever else he can get money off. Wholeheartedly smiling at the driver, we push our packs onto our seats and fold ourselves on top. In Quy Nhon nothing comes easy.

Quest for Quy Nhon - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After a generous free shuttle to our guesthouse "Mai Huy", we head straight to the beach (of course), which is only a stone's throw away. We are impressed with its beauty, orderliness and cleanliness - it's very much unlike what we've seen so far. Separated from the main road by a perfectly manicured promenade - complete with conical hat shaped tree cuts and contemporary (phallic) sculptures - it's like Vietnam does Alice and Wonderland. There's plenty of beach up for grabs, turquoise waters, and a pleasant breeze to spare us from the excessive heat.

We've now come to grips with the fact that longer than a month is needed to fully appreciate Vietnam. So we will extend our visas at some stage. With such formalities out of our hair, we can now fully embrace a much needed slower pace. We bliss out to the views of the surrounding mountains and offshore islands - never minding the huge Hollywood like "Vinpearl" sign that dominates the views of the closest island ahead of us.

Time to seek out the drink specials - starting with a very strong vodka bucket at 25,000 dong (~$2.50 NZ) and then to "Zippo's" for some deliciously dangerous Harvey Wallbanger buckets at 30,000 dong. Hey, they're too cheap not to drink! After snacking on some street stall mystery meat baguettes we reach the conclusion that we like it here.... alot!

Most of the food here is to tempt the western palate, but with western prices to match. We seek out a local joint tucked down an alleyway which makes a delicious Pho Bo breakfast - tender beef soup with fresh herbs and veges (it grows on you!). This quickly becomes our local and we're surprised that no other foreigners venture beyond the main streets - their loss. We do however take full advantage of the various resto's that hand out free drinks with dinner (we'll happily endorse that!). And we work really hard at keeping the baguette ladies busy too!

Everyday we are drawn to the beach to read, rest, swim, and soak up some rays. Little ladies act as mobile minimarts, carrying baskets of snacks to sell. Guys act as mobile libraries and in case you need another pair of sunnies... Despite the 30 degrees heat they all cover themselves from head to toe with gloves, hats, the works. It must be hot work avoiding a tan!

One day we scrape ourselves off the beach to venture beyond the centre of town. We hire a motorbike and head south to Cam Ranh Harbour. No sooner are we over the bridge, and we've left behind us the bustle of Nha Trang. We head around the headland of shining seas, and infinite views of undisturbed beach (our mission for the day). We end up overshooting our mark considerably, end up in a village that time itself forgot, and order fruit shakes while we get our bearings back. We are introduced to the non-blender shake variety where the lady pounds a cup of sugar, fruit and ice together by hand. Lumpy goodness.

We head back, this time paying slighty more attention to the access roads that spider out to the beaches which we missed the first time. Too busy marveling at the fabulous airport road with its manicured flower gardens we reckon. It's so wide it must be made for giants (or maybe it was the 2008 Miss Universe Competition which was held here). The first road we try leads us to the beach - vast and desolate, and it's all ours! Hoping to drive along the beachfront we ride along until we start to sink - maybe not a good idea after all. Time for a swim in the surf instead.

On our way back we go in pursuit of American war junk leftovers - which apparently peer out of the sand along the beach roads. We soon find an unmarked road that looks promising. Not sure what draws us to this particular non-descript road out of all the others. But we strike gold - it comes complete with empty bunkers, a watchtower, anti-aircraft guns and a spiderweb of trenches radiating out to the bunkers. It's hard to imagine this as a place of terror when the beach before us is so tranquil... until a vietnamese guy chases us out. The military still controls access to much of this area and it's unfortunately off limits. We won't stick around to argue! Next stop - "Bai Dai" (Long Beach) - a section of beach covered in seafood selling shacks looking out over the water. Unable to afford these fine delicacies, we enjoy Saigon beers instead as the waves lap at our feet.

On the way home we get lost (again) within a small port side village. We spy some 20 cent soy milk and are then invited by some locals to join them for lunch - coconut milk pancakes with squid inside, cooked over a fire, then dipped in a pesto-like chilli sauce mix. Only 60 cents each for a huge feed of pancakes, and it rates highly as one of our best meals yet! Who needs the elite tourist priced variety anyway!

Back on track, we brave the suddenly intensified traffic to get to the other side of town. Somehow we end up driving through the centre of the local market (the one crazy place we tried to avoid, but at least we're not the only ones). We soon spot the Cham Towers of Po Nagar on the riverbank. As the sun sets we bask in the glory of these perfectly reconstructed 7th-12th century towers, today frequented by praying buddhists. They're adorned with statues, lingas, and inscriptions dedicated to the gods.

We head to the barbers for some pampering. After 4 months traveling we feel a haircut wouldn't go astray - especially at $3.50 NZ each! Alana bravely asks for a trim yet says goodbye to most of her hair. For some reason Alana lets Guido advise her to dye her hair a vibrant coppery reddish colour (i.e. ginga). It'll fade... Guido gets a "cool" 1950's side part do. That'll teach him! Time to celebrate/commiserate with buckets and free beer at Zippo's. Then on to "Red Sun Bar" for more buckets which come with free mojitos... ouch! We get all primed up for ladies night at the sailing club which apparently has free cocktails - yet it's too good to be true and we turn away from the 80,000 dong cover charge - we know where our loyalties lie! A great night out and we spent a grand total of $10 on drinks. Thanks Nha Trang!

Beach, buckets, and barber bravery in Nha Trang - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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So we decide to do what the French did best before us, and kick up our feet for a few days. This is most definitely helped by our somewhat unprecedented, USD $20/night, splurge on accommodation. Residing at the 'Dreams hotel' we enjoy super friendly locals, sumptuous buffets, unlimited online time and, the pinnacle of all, a roof top steam, sauna and jacuzzi. They are right, dreams are made of this!

An enormous improvement on our room in Saigon which, by our last few days stay, had turned into its own little uncontrollable sauna with humidity rising well beyond 100% (or so it felt anyway). Our room is decked out with all the perks: a snuggly bed, a well-stocked minibar at street prices, cable tv, hot water (can't remember when we had our last hot shower) and even some fresh roses - it's luxuriously good! Heading straight for a sauna session we sweat, steam, sink, and sweat some more while we overlook the hubbub of activity that unfurls in the city below. Our bathroom has it own shower capsule where an array of hot strong water jets massage your backs - this place is so space age!

We head off to explore the surroundings and find for lunch up a winding alleyway; the 'Peace cafe'. Packed out by backpackers its not quite the local experience we had in mind. The tofu burgers were nice enough but the red Dalat wine, with its fruity bouquet definitely begged for more. So we go in search of the street markets. Unfortunately, closed for the night we only find a small bottle store catering to the few hardy souls out on the streets - 9pm, this place goes to bed early. Never the less, the 40,000 dong (US $2.5) red dalat wine was worth braving the night for.

Waking up to the breakfast feast that awaits us; we find a welcoming family table full of fruit platters with mango, papaya and passionfruit, omelettes, cream cheese, bacon, baguettes and a brew of vietnamese coffee, as well as the prized unusual condiments marmite, vegemite, peanut butter and dalat strawberry jam. Outside, motodrivers hover the streets seeking custom, mumbling something about 'easy riders' in broken english. Only later do we find out that it concerns a collective of motorbike clowns that drag you on the back of their bike and whisk you away to far, not so off the beaten track, destinations in the Central Highlands. We shrug our shoulders; at USD $65 a day they must surely only carry royalty? Instead we make our own easy rider adventure, pulling out one of the bikes and scaling the numerous torturous hills that dot the city landscape. From the Dalat cathedral a la gingerbread style, built just before the second world war by french christian missionaries (or more accurately the slaves they 'employed'), up to the hills with their capturing views that overlook the city that lies beyond in the valley.

We take the cable car for more grand views of the Quang Tri basin. Set amongst generous forests of pine trees, we discover chinese style pagoda's with peaceful wind chimes and monks wandering the grounds.

A gathering of monks follows. Our curiosity gets the better of us, and we join the procession to a restricted area where a little pavillion resides that overlooks the lake. An elder, much revered, vietnamese monk passes on his teachings to a new generation before he retires - all in all quite a humbling experience. One of the younger monks gives us some sort of luck charm.

We still haven't figured out its purpose but being a gift we can't part with it either. Back in town we cycle back through the cobble stoned alleyways sequestered by locals stopping in for a 15,000 dong street feed. No english here, so some finger pointing ensues before we get served a sort of steaming fresh pho (noodle soup) infused red with chillies, yellow rice noodles, a big pork steak, veggies and leafy aromatic herbs which give it that fresh twang - simply delicious!

One more day of buffets where we manage to peel ourselves out of the sauna to visit the Domaine de Marie Convent, also constructed before the war and once home to about 300 nuns. Though we don't encounter much of this action now; a quiet peaceful courtyard with several greenhouses bask in the hot noon sun.

The remaining nuns support themselves selling ginger candy and fresh orchard fruit, to support the orphanage with disabled children. So far, our encounters with this colony of old leaves us wondering where the french penchant for gingerbread comes from. Chocolate fish for who can tell us. Anyhows, we donate some $ for the good cause and stock up on fresh made strawberry jam - laced with whole strawberries it's so syrupy it won't leave its serving spoon. This stuff is prime and must go well with our baguettes!

Dalat Dreams, Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Reruns of Titanic on HBO (the movie channel), sure enough it's Valentine's Day. How could we miss it? Is it the savvy vietnamese ladies plugging their roses and bottles of red wine at us for inflated prices, or the throngs of affectionate vietnamese teenage couples walking the pavement hand in hand. Very weird, very coy and totally out of the blue as any public display of affection is usually unheard of, if not frowned upon by elder generations. All fine with us and a good excuse to stay clear of noodles for a night (we've been noodling for a while now) and splash out on dinner. 'Splashing out' in this context meaning spending no more than the astronomical amount of about USD $10 on the fanciest meal at one of the poshest restaurants in town. Our venue of choice 'Milwaukee Bar & Grill' is very much a western affair, sadly like most other places in this area, but the atmosphere is nice and the christmas lights overall add to the ambience.

If perhaps we would like an exquisite US $25 bottle of Hardy's wine with our dinner? Mmm, perhaps not tonight. After all, back home we never bothered with this off the shelf $5 supermarket wine either so why should we now? A 1 litre jug of fresh guava juice works just fine. The menu is extensive and even NZ sirloin steak makes the cut, unfortunately with western price tags. Never mind, the Vietnamese steak comes a good second and so does the chicken cordon bleu - absolutely delectable, served on huge platters, with tiny portions. It is nice to look at though. We feel compelled to polish off our first night with chocolate brownie cake, oreo's and cheese pringles, washed down with a few Saigon beers.

Time to go walkabouts. Most of the stuff we want to see in Saigon city central is only a stone's throw away so off we go. Starting with the Ben Thanh market - a claustrophobic indoor sprawl of a market, filled with the all-time classic 'good morning' vietnam shirts, snake wine, gorgeous Ao Dai, dress suits and coffee. Lots of coffee. The superb Ao Dai, a couture trademark of vietnam and as popular as Ho Chi Minh himself, we see these elegant silk garments everywhere, but it is the girls in school uniforms that steal the show everytime.

With a refreshing and nicely chopped coconut in hand we find ourselves back before the reunification palace. In front of the same imposing iron wrought gates run down by the communist tanks that misty morning of the 30th April 1975, when Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese, and South Vietnam effectively ceased to exist. Somewhat solemnly the palace remains very much as it was that day; spacious open chambers kitted out in that weird psychodelic retro furniture from the sixties and all the perks any becoming president might require in times of need - an old school movie theatre, musty reception areas, and lots of important looking bright red bat phones (they must have been watching the series even back then).

Sure enough it also comes with a casino and a leather seated rooftop bar, and on its terrace a Huey escape helicopter that never saw flight, as well as an all encompassing underground bunker; a maze of concrete tunnels, linked up by an elaborate telecommunications centre and, of course, a presidential war room. Sporting one brown mahogany desk, several more (no doubt) important bat phones and a plethora of topographical maps it just breathes testosterone. But sadly no all decisive red button - how disappointing!

Intriguingly, they still use this forlorn palace for offical receptions and the like. Perhaps it is the grandeur which we most definately still feel, standing on its fourth floor balcony, looking out over its enormous courtyard past the gates into Lu Duan Boulevard; the very same spot the victorious north vietnamese unfurled their flag from, and vietnam became one once again (hence the name reunification palace).

Just around the corner, in the midst of traffic chaos, we find the neo-romanesque Notre Dame cathedral. A miniature gingerbread version of the real thing in Paris. It's aesthetically pleasant enough but nothing to drop your pants about. Its stained glass windows got blasted out during world war II which makes it a bit unique. Anyhows, it is not the first we've seen here and, knowing the French, probably won't be our last one. Luck is on our side though, mass is about to start so we slip in for some hallelujah's. Happy to escape the chaos.

And traffic chaos it is indeed, or as the Saigon city brochure delicately puts it 'somewhat challenging traffic conditions'. With 25 million scooters amongst 75 million vietnamese and no enforced traffic regulations, we suppose you can call it that way. Xe oms are everywhere and everyone has them. Under the constant howl of claxons all the roads, motorways and intersections are absolutely clogged with them, and the pavement provides a viable alternative for most of them. Hence you're never really safe anywhere. Crossing the road requires a leap of faith, confidentally shuffling across at a steady bolt stride, while hordes of scooters swerve around you at full speed. To hesitate is to make you unpredictable and prone to accidents - it is a crazy place. Bangkok, Phnom Penh and Kuala Lumpur pale in comparison and Alana is not impressed.

Enough of that now, since its close we head to the revolutionary museum, housed in a huge neoclassical building from 1886. From elaborate displays on Saigon to a whole floor dedicated to Vietnam's revolutionary history. Plenty of war artefacts abound; a double bottomed rowing boat (ghe) used to smuggle arms, a copy of the microphone (go figure) Ho Chi Minh used to declare independance from, reprints of monk's Thich Quang Duc famous self immolation in 1963, and many displays on the massive peace demonstrations in Saigon against the Vietnam war. Underground again a network of fortified corridors and concrete bunkers - they must have been 'justifiably' paranoid.

Utterly famished we seek shelter in a nearby shopping mall, the 'Diamond Plaza', where we find what must be the best bakery on the planet 'Tout les Jours'. Divine pizza rounds, croquettes, and cream cheese donuts - all for a whopping NZD $1. We have found our Mecca! Here we also pick up a proper Baby G watch for Alana, to replace the replica we bought in Siem Reap (which much to our consternation still works).

Enough sight seeing for the day. We walk back past the Rex, a classic hotel with kitsch carpet upholstery, musty smells, and plaster animal decorations from the time it accommodated US army officers, back to the Ben Thanh market. Just closed but rearranging for night time action. We have oodles of time so stop by at Trung Nguyen for a No. 8 weasel coffee. Derived from weasel poo on a coffee bean diet it has (not suprisingly) a rather earthly and nutty flavour - not the best brew. Fortunately we don't have to wait too long for the market place to set up. In fact, it takes them exactly 15 minutes to turn an empty street into a full fledgling restaurant scene - time for dinner!

Our last day here we visit Chu Chi - a district of greater Ho Chi Minh and pretty much legendary for the vast tunnel network which was dug out of the damp earth red clay by the vietcong during the Vietnam War. Stretching all the way from the Cambodian border to the outskirts of Saigon, this elaborate 250km underground network was the piece 'd resistance and it was from here that the Tet offensive was launched on the eve of the Vietnamese New Year. Running 3 stories and 20 meters deep in some places it comes with living quarters, field hospitals, improvised ammunition plants, communication centres for the 15.000 soldiers that fought here - impressive!

Crawling on hands and feet through the claustrophobic dark tunnels we're rubbing shoulders with damp clay all the way - no turning back now. The entrance a 30x15cm hole in-the-ground trapdoor camouflaged with dirt and leaves. Our guide, a former South Vietnamese soldier, is quite animated as he shows us around the sites under the cover of a regenerating bamboo forest - one of the few things that will grow here. A myriad of bomb craters still scar the area; the result from years of saturation bombing, napalm and chemical defoliants.

Several commonly boobytraps make a guest âppearance; souvenir trap - a structure with long nonretractable punji stakes which, once you've stepped in it, detaches so you can take it home. Or most feared of all the ladyboy trap - two vertically swivelling platforms with long rusty serrated nails aimed at the chest and groin; effectively desexing the enemy upon impact. Intriguingly, most of these traps were in fact designed to (permanently) incapitate a soldier rather than kill, so precious resources in the field were spent on treatment and evacuation. How's that for pure evil ingenuity!

All roads lead to Rome and ours no different. In our case to an onsite shooting range where you can try your luck at an armament of weapons; AK47 and M16 assault rifles or M60 machinegun - take your pick. At 20.000 dong a bullet (US $1) a sure way to shoot your budget.

Back in town we get dropped of at the infamous war remnants museum. Being infamous the place is literally packed with people making it hard to get into the swing of things (if you can call it that way). Outside the usual array of battle-scarred US tanks, helicopters and anti-aircraft artillery. Inside, a documental display on the (many) atrocities committed against the Vietnamese; the My Lai incident, the notorious tiger cages used to detain charlie POW's on Con Son island among many others.

All quite informative but the experience is watered down by the neverending praise for the bravery and patriotism of those who stood up against the imperialist occupation and their south vietnamese puppet regime (yawn). State propaganda at its best we see many photo shoots of female vietcong (child) soldiers carrying heavy ammunition caches on the Ho Chi Minh trail. Bearing ear to ear smiles, the war must have been a field day.

But it's the exhibitions on the aftermath of agent orange and the lives of war journalists which hit home the most. Whole generations of families with gruesome genetic deformaties aptly illustrate that in war there are no real victors and it is the civilians that lose the battle. Other photos from reporters on the frontlines show soldiers ripped to shreds by incoming mortars rounds, followed by their own visual obituaries from the next fatal mortar round, a few minutes later - an otherworldly experience!

Back home it is time to pack up for our ride to Dalat. Incidentally we find the best and cheapest cafè sua nong and omelette baguettes from a local lady tucked away in an alleyway. Feasting on hot coffee and fresh bread between our packs, we kick ourselves that we find her a few days too late.

Sojourning in Saigon - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our room at Tam Ho is upstairs and overlooks the river and orchard. We wander around the tropical orchard where such exotic fruits as jackfruit, longans, starfruit, tamarind, and many others all grow in abundance. We now have the rest of the afternoon to lounge in the hammock among the bamboo (complete with small snake), and listen to the cultural performance put on by the host family.

We dine in an outdoor setting, just us and the insects buzzing, clicking, and whizzing. We're the only ones staying here so it's very tranquil and our hosts make themselves scarce. Another feast is presented to us; tasty snails blended with lemongrass, pork, and herbs stuffed in the shells, a baked river fish and more rice paper and veg to make fresh spring rolls again. Yum! Once again, they continue to bring out more food...
A mouse scurries along the rafters - and after seeing a snake today too, we are dosed up with guilt at having recently eaten these critters!

A firefly lands on Alana - first one we've ever seen! This enthuses us to explore the river for fireflies. Sure enough we see a few parading up and down the canals lighting the way for us. As we head up to our balcony we see a whole tree sparkling bright with fireflies - it looks like fairy lights on a xmas tree. Fireflies buzz under a starlit night at a riverside island orchard on the Mekong in Vietnam. Magical.

Nature awakens us so we relax in the hammock until our next feast is due - curious if it will be fish again. Instead fresh coffee, baguettes, fresh jam, cheese, and assorted fruits appear... and then hot omelettes come out as well. Amazing. The cheese triangles taste like cream cheese but we're not complaining (Asia doesn't seem to do cheese). The coffee is served in glasses with a tin percolater sitting atop for the coffee to drain through. A third of the glass is filled with sweetened condensed milk (they don't do milk either) so it's not for the faint hearted!

Such a relaxing and special place, yet we have to move on. Our hosts flag down a boat full of locals and we proceed back to Vinh Long to take a bus to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon).

Fish feasts and fireflies from Vinh Long - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We settle into the simple but clean family run "Hien Guesthouse" ($6 US) where the kids play in the lounge and do their homework. It feels like home. Time to explore the waterfront and settle at a local resto for cheap beers (9000 dong each for a 450ml bottle) and an order of snake. It's chewy, with not much meat but for 50000 dong, we're sure there's better snake around at a bigger price. We watch the snakes slither around in their glass enclosures - they're farmed and not endangered so our consciences are relatively clear.

We take a Mekong Delta River tour at 5.30am. Once up, it's a relaxing sojourn down the river in a longtail boat, just us and our driver, and the numerous other boats transporting people and cargo up and down. We have no lights but luckily no big vessels run us down. It's amazing to see the hubbub of activity on the Mekong - a way of life we're not familiar with. We arrive at our first floating market as the sun rises. Still half asleep we are very grateful for the coffee boat that provides us with a sweet steaming brew. Buyers and sellers barter away, fresh produce loaded up on their boats.

The Mekong markets are abuzz from 6-8am before the heat intensifies. We leave our second market by 8.30am when there is a mass exodus of vendors and buyers alike. We head up through a maze of small canals surrounded by lush ferns, bamboo palms, and small bamboo pole bridges which link together many small river islands - a tranquil setting.

We stop at a rice noodle making factory (translation: a shack of rice, fire and noodle cutters). Further along the canals we stop on a river island to have lunch at the orchard. On our way back out through the canals we begin a race to the docks between us and some other equally slow longtails. Our drivers get quite competitive and take to ramming one anothers boats to take one another out.

Once safely on land, we explore the tastes of town - strawberry fruitshakes at only 8000 dong and sweet pastry turnovers filled with spiced meat, egg and vegies (5000 dong each). We were as satisfied as if we'd just had BP Connect butter chicken pies (i.e. very satisfied). It could be the new pie... and at 50cents per "pie" we had to have a few... We then educated ourselves at the Can Tho Museum (complete with French-made guillotine for the Viet Cong), and the Military Museum which showcases assorted American fighter aircraft and war weaponry.

Heading along the riverfront we see where all the westerners are hiding out. The resto's are expensive and the gardens are perfectly manicured. We keep walking towards the mothership.

The "Du Thuyen" ship is calling... We board the three level ship which sails around the river at night. We pass the disturbing glass jars of snake/bird wine combo's and what looks like bear paw wine? We'll stick to the beer (not bear!). Sailing off, it's too late to back out now so we sit on the top floor all decked out with fairy lights, overlooking the river and the city. Prime location! We bravely order "embalmed field mouse" (embalmed in spices and coconut juice if that makes it sound any better). It tastes like chicken teriyaki and looks like chicken drumsticks. Hard work to eat though due to the numerous bones and unsightly ribcages which we leave right alone. As we sail around the river, vietnamese singers perform cheesy music to entertain us. Are we on the vietnamese version of the love boat?

Chowing down in Can Tho - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We join up with the Bassac River and arrive at the pier in Chau Doc. Tin shacks on stilts adorn the rivers edge, vietnamese row their boats across the river, and floating houses float on empty metal drums. Captive fish are grown in suspended metal nets to be consumed as required. We settle into a cheap guesthouse (US$5) which includes cable tv and hot water - a welcome change! We explore the small town and indulge in fish claypots (30,000 dong each ~$3 NZ) and sticky rice dessert from the market.

Chau Doc is rampant with motorbikes and cycles all tooting frantically, the odd car ploughing through. Unlike Cambodia we haven't seen any beggars yet which is a positive sign. Similarities to Cambodia include the French Colonial architecture. Yet the typical home here is constructed with tin roofing and is of a different style.

We have to try the vietnamese staple "Pho Bo" for breakfast (20,000 dong each). A rice noodle soup with beef that comes with fresh herbs (heaps of basil) and veges, chilli and soy sauces, and lime juice. All mixed in together to create a delicious fusion of fresh flavours. Very nourishing.

We wander through the local market which exhibits a colourful array of fresh produce, live seafood, raw meat, conical hats etc. A true local market with no tourists in sight. Most of the women here wear the traditional conical hats, teemed with fluoro p.j's (similar to Cambodia's p.j. obsession). The school girls cycle past wearing the stunningly elegant white national dress - the Ao Dai.

We wander down the narrow alleyways to get to the river - houses are practically built on top of one another, all on stils, with multiple platform layers so we observe people at work, eating, sleeping... rural life in full swing. Down at the river women ferry passengers across the river. We have to wonder what work if any the men do around here...

Go Chau Doc - Vietnam remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Finally we arrive at Sen Monorom - the provincial capital of Mondulkiri, a small village home to the Phnong minority group. We anticipate the usual flood of vultures/motodrivers as we step off the bus - surprisingly there are none. It's a scramble around trying to find our packs - all look identical now that they're caked in red dust. We're left to our own devices to wander through the quiet village centre, and with a couple of aussie girls, find the perfect little guesthouse (only US$4 per night!).

We hunt out the "Info Centre" - a closed building guarded by a savage canine who chases us away - how welcoming! Time for a feed at a cheap local resto which serves real homekill pork with truckloads of veges and noodles for 5000R ($1.25) each. Great fruit shakes too for only 50c. We finish up for the day on the deck of our guesthouse where we rest, relax, and enjoy sweet creamy coffees (1/3 is sweetened condensed milk, 2/3 strong kickass coffee) and cake, while absorbing our new surroundings.

We head off to Potang village about 9km out of town, where we will commence our elephant trek. Mostly a sparse, dusty dry village, it is home to a Pnong minority group. A cacaphony of farm animals and children wander around amid traditional bamboo shacks with their thatched roofs and modern tin houses on stilts. We are shown around inside a shack - home to two extended families apparently. Today there is just one old blind man present, chopping banana palm for the pigs feed. Quite the achievement considering he can't see. We assume he is the patriarch of the family until our guide points out that he has no clue who this guy is. Just a random - just visiting perhaps? I guess that's what happens when you don't have front doors. The fire slowly burns in the centre of the hut, all day long, creating a thick smog. There are two platforms for the families to sleep on, the animals typically sleep underneath. Seems cozy for sure.

This village has six elephants - we only see three, the rest is chilling out in the forest. Ours is an old girl called "Nuncheh". Using the elephant platform, we clambour up into the bamboo basket (which doesn't feel the sturdiest... and it's a long way down!). The mahout then sits on the ele's neck. We set off at a slow pace - Nuncheh is a real foodie and eats continuosly as we wander along the forest ridge, and down into the valley. She sprays us with her trunk as we cross many streams and cools herself down by spraying the back of her ears. We stop for lunch at a river, put up a hammock to relax in, and swim in the river. Nucheh also has a bath and a good scrub down. Her skin is coarse and leathery, with bristley black hair. We clambour back onto her and set off up a very steep hill, the mahout walking alongside to ease the load. Nuncheh swots dust onto herself with a leafy branch as protection against the sun. Smart cookie. She quickens her steps as we approach the village, and just to show her appreciation she snots on us.

Once back at the village she yawns and takes a nap. We feel guilty for tiring her out but apparently these ele's have a pretty cruisy life and aren't used for work anymore - they just take turns giving tourist treks. Once these ele's die, the village will have a big problem as there is no possibility of baby ele's (all are past reproductive age). The villagers believe that if a baby ele is born it is the sign of a bad spirit and a villager will subsequently get sick and die. A sacrifice of a large beast e.g. an ox, will be presented at a ceremony to appease the gods. Very superstitious but what ever it takes to make them feel better about the lack of ele babies! As we're about to head off home our driver gets called into a celebration for "just one drink" of potent homebrew rice wine. They make tonnes of the stuff and today are drinking to celebrate the completion of a house being built (although i'm sure they don't need the excuse)... We make it home eventually.

We hire a motorbike to venture out the 35km to Bou Sraa Waterfall. After ~8km we grow suspicious of the dirt road so query a local who points back the way we came. Back we go to the intersection but to our dismay we get redirected back again...darn. Finally we enter new terrain, making slow progress... until we get a flat tyre. Yet more backtracking as we start pushing the bike back towards the closest village. But hang on - there's a bike garage just up ahead, in the middle of nowhere. What a coincidence - yet come to think of it they are probably the ones responsible for all the nails and crap on the road... a cunning ploy to get our custom! The boy who runs our guesthouse happens to drive by. He stops briefly to converse with the mechanic and advises us it should only cost 2000R (~50c) for a puncture repair - sweet! Sure enough, upon closer inspection the puncture happens to be on the seam and the inner tube needs replacing. It still only cost US$3 to repair - gotta love cheap labour! By noon, we are finally back on track.

Once at Bou Sraa we admire the stunning two tier 10m and 25m drops that cascade down the rock face. Locals picnic around us and there are very few tourists which makes for a relaxing environment. Once back home we head another 3km out to Monorom Falls where we watch a group of local teenage girls swim fully clothed in jeans -modesty first. Curiously they take our photo and share mangoes with us - so friendly.

Apparantly there is a border crossing we can use not far from Sen Monorom, yet with no information to go on bar a dodgy reference in the guidebook it seems unfeasible to do in day. Even the locals advise against it. Darn, we have to head all the way back to Phnom Penh ( a 7 hour bus ride!) to make our border crossing into Vietnam. Fortunately, the journey from Sen Monorom to Phnom Penh is nowhere near as hazardous as our journey there, yet to keep it interesting we stop in Skuon or "Spiderville" as it's more commonly known. Vendors carry baskets brimming with dead spiders for consumption - creepy. Local children push live tarantulas at us - we quickly retreat to the safety of the bus. We're not really hungry after all.

Once in Phnom Pehn we have a couple of spare days up our sleeve so we head back to Sky Park Hotel and indulge in a picnic of our fave Dana Blu cheese, wine, assorted fruits and pringles. Lazy sleep ins, buffet brekkies, exploring the central market and Sorya Shopping Centre. We enjoy some drinkies from the carriage of a tuktuk and watch frantic Cambodian city life pass us by. The flipside of the coin is that we can sneak in through the Mekong delta, something we wanted to do anyway!

Alana hinting at the bling bling but it didn't work!

Ele hikes and broken bikes in Mondulkiri - Cambodia remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Yet the main reason we are here is to see the elusive Irrawaddy River Dolphins... but first a freakout over the prospect of no ATM, a gruelling trip back to Kompong Cham for $$ and two days wasted. Thankfully we find out that an ATM was installed only a couple of months ago - hooray! But our relief is shortlived - the ATM is out of order! Many staff and security guards mill around, yet no-one can give us any indication of when it will be back in operation. Eek, we're down to our last riel. An hour later, still no news (and Alana very anxious to get to those dolphins!) so we decide to take our chances (and the last of our money) and see the dolphins, hoping for the best!

We take a motorbike 15km North to Kampi where the dolphins reside. A tranquil ride past local villages, forests, river, and fellow local riders. The US$9 'unique fee' has just been introduced a month ago, supposedly for Dolphin Conservation, yet the fresh water Irrawaddy dolphin has long been endangered. Numbers plummetted dramaticaly during the Pol pot regime, as many were hunted for their oils. Today there are only around 75 left in the Mekong in Cambodia and Laos (with small pods in Myanmar and Bangladesh).

Upon our arrival we are pleasantly surpised - no tour buses! We even get a longtail boat to ourselves (with personal oarsman of course!). "I hear a blowhole blowing" shrieks Alana. Guido thinks she is taking the piss - but as we look out over the river we can actually see the dolphins. Our oarsman has a pretty easy job - he only has to put in a few strokes when required, as the dolphins are so close by. It's peaceful to watch them doing their thing, uninterrupted by us or others. Our oarsman then takes us further upriver, meandering around grassy islands, to get to the "rapids" - more like a swift current than a rapid but great for swimming all the same. We enjoy a most relaxing soak in the river (surely the flowing current renders this area clean...). Tranquil times. Once back on shore we sit on the hill and watch the dolphins below - it's mesmerizing to watch them swimming around in their natural basin. We guess that there are about 10 dolphins here? Hard to say. Such a special encounter - and not at all touristy!

Back to reality - and the ATM which will determine our fate. Good news - it's back in order, bad news - it closes from 4.15 - 4.45pm daily (but of course) and it's 4.15pm on the dot! Actually we had one minute to spare but some bloody aussies jumped the queue and screwed us over. Jokes on them though as they had a Mastercard, and this puppy only accepts VISA, hehehe. In the meantime we have fruitshakes with sunset views over the Mekong, while our compadres stress over getting money wired to them to ensure their survival. At least our crisis is averted, for the moment.

ATM Angst and Dolphin Dreams in Kratie - Cambodia remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Decrepid French architecture once again the flavour, bearing testament to long days past. Rubbish strewn alongside the river banks, sewerage flowing into the Mekong, and people fishing in its waters. We won't be eating fish tonight!

We walk over the long bamboo bridge to "Koh Paen", the rural island in the middle of the Mekong. Every year the bridge gets rebuilt in the dry season, as it gets destroyed by nature every wet season. It feels fragile, yet even the odd car manages to make it across safely. No sooner have we stepped foot off the bridge and onto the island when a boy runs us down to extort money from us - screw that! We head back across the bridge just as 3 tour groups all cycle over to visit the island village. Looks like we saved ourselves from another tourist trap!

Instead we walk back along the promenade where Guido gets roped into playing 'piggy in the middle' with the local children (Alana has the sickness excuse). A welcome respite from the 'tourist' role we unintentionally portray so frequently when travelling in these developing countries. It's these experiences that we cherish most.

Kompong Cham - Cambodia remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our first impressions are good and spirits are high. Most of the action is actually confined to a small wedge shaped part of town where Bar street (with its bars, cafe's and resto's) rules the roost and liveliness radiates outwardly through a dense network of alleyways and backstreets. Much to our amusement we watch the commotion and gaze at the sheer number of shops and establishments that cater to the farang - they must out number the temples 10 to 1 easily. Part of the parcel; a seemingly endless supply of pizza joints that stretch into the distance bearing such imaginable names the likes of 'Happy Herb Pizza', 'Ecstatic Pizza', 'Happy Special Pizza' 'Happy Angkor Pizza' and the list goes on. After all you wouldn't want to run out of pizza in a place like this.

The next couple of days slip by quickly as we explore the ins and outs of Siem Reap, track down decent eateries and relocate from our rather drab looking place to the Ivy - a much more atmospheric guesthouse just around the corner. Well, at least they have a few hammocks strung up and Pol Pot's old toilet seat on the wall so they must have some sense of humour? With a stroke of luck we also discover a Khmer place near the old market which does amazing authentic mains (fish amok anyone?) and wicked fruitshakes without costing the earth. This, supplemented with the popular mobile food cart stalls that set up along the main road means we have our staple diet sussed - sweet! It's not that we're food snobs by any means but since they cater for every imaginable taste under the sun, from pasta to Turkish to Rasta cuisine (go figure) we can't imagine they do any of it particularly well. Tonight however, we go to Temple Balcony to watch a 'free' Apsara traditional folk dance performance. With stunningly ornate costumes the dancers reenact a story from the grandiose Indian epic, the Ramayana - Khmer style. 'Free' as long as you buy a $0.50 draft beer. Tough choice we thought too.

Armed with a brand new $4 'Temples of Angkor' bootleg copy from the market we studiously plot our next 3 days worth of adventures at Angkor; intending to temple hop from place to place with the rusty retro bicyckles we acquired for $7 total. So much has been written about this place already; a dazzling array of different itineraries to choose from; visit in chronological order or not...according to building style or not...or avoiding the crowds perhaps? Enough drivel to drive anyone bonkers really. With the archeological park only 8kms away we decide to take a late arvo sneek peek. Cycling the dirt road alongside the enormous 19 meter wide moat past the outer guard wall perimeter the temple of all temples: majestic Angkor Wat slowly rolls into view.

Pandemonium complete, we stand awestruck by the sight of innumerable tuktuks and buses which are parked up in front and the thousands of people that slowly shuffle their way over the stone causeway which leads across the moat into Angkor Wat. This must be the most popular place on the planet! Standing on the causeway, soaking up the sunset this monument to ultimate divine worship is without question breathtaking. And when you see a rope tethered hot air balloon full of tourists drifting its way up in the sky against the fading light of day, you suddenly realise that by now you really have seen it all. Now to make our way back to town in one piece amidst the turmoil of tuktuks, cars, buses and what not. Engulfed by darkness, no street lights to back us up and only one intermittendly working bicycle light between us we wait for that mammoth pothole which will send us flying.

4:30am next day - peep peep peep...the alarm resonates throughout our room, courtesy of our new $4 g-shock watch we acquired just for the occasion. That all too familiar noise which gnaws at your subconsiousness that you ought to be somewhere else...darn. With the sleep still in our eyes we jump on our bikes and start to make our way towards the Angkor Archeological Park. Five o' clock and well before the crack of dawn as we cycle along the solemn and quiet riverine boulevard; lamp posts project our ghostly shadows on the tarmac. Even the lamp posts are adorned with ornate carvings a la Angkor Wat style - subtle details we only make out now and there's not much else to occupy our minds this early. We are not entirely alone though - the occasional tuktuk careers past and a handful of other cyclists share our endevours.

On we cycle to the tix booth, where we pay a whopping US $40 entrance fee for 3 days of sightseeing. Bloody UNESCO! With our golden Willy Wonka ticket in hand which we cannot lose, tear, frumple or even laminate we pedal for Srah Srang - our first destination in what will be a busy day. The park seems like a fairly big place so our intentions to cycle around its perimeter might turn epic. Well, we've never been any good at guestimates and they say the journey is part of the fun right? Things to ponder about as we cycle our lungs out to Srah Srang (pool of ablutions), a large man-made basin of 800x400 meters, where the king and his many wives let their hair down. A considerable journey and well beyond Angkor Wat we get there only just before sun rise. With 15 minutes to spare and having lost most of the mobs earlier the place is incredibly serene and peaceful. The local village girls are also abound and, business savvy as they are, hook us up with a hot brew of sweet coffee, which of course helps to soak up the surroundings as we sit by the lake where a lone fisherman cast out his nets.

With the day now in full swing, we stroll across the road to Banteay Kdei. Constructed in the late 12th century by Jayaverman VII it is a sprawling, largely unrestored monastery. The place is literally falling apart, apparanlty due to poor building technique and using inferior sandstone, but it's a funky place to walk around in, and the multitude of Apsara dancer carvings; heavenly nymphs or goddesses and garuda's on the walls keep us entertained.

We have the place to ourselves too which is great. Amidst the rubble two kids, locals no doubt, walk up to us. The conversation goes something like this:

G says "hi there!"
boy says "Candy"
G says "What's your name?"
Boy says "Candy?"
G says "right"
Boy says "candy?"

What's up with that anyway? Sure enough his belly was a tad bit distended but its not like we walk around with a bag of lollipops all the time. We soon get used to being followed around the temples by little shadows in trance chanting "one dollah... one dollah" as they try to sell their flutes, postcards, whistles, whatever...

Past the outer walls of Banteay Kdei to the atmospheric ruins of Ta Prohm, one of the big hitters in templetown. Walking underneath the monumental entranceway of this Buddhist temple we enter the realm of an ancient world inhabited by crumbling towers, closed courtyards and rather claustrophobic dark corridors. Reclaimed by the jungle over the years past, the many bass relief decorations are covered with soft lichen, scrubs and vines climb their way up the walls, and massive fig trees emerge from the walls and roofs they set root in over a thousand years ago. Its hard to tell whether these strangulating root formations holding the temple in chokehold are keeping it all together or tearing it apart.

Many of the overhead corridors we explore have long since collapsed, their entranceways clogged with enormous carved sandstone blocks. Others are about to with their stones balancing precariously on walls that are about to topple over. Cloaked by the dense foliage of the jungle, the few rays of light that manage to penetrate bathe the temple in a greenish hue, reminding us of the ferocity with which nature attempts to recapture the grounds from which this temple was carved. Its a magical experience. At least it was until the 40 odd bus loads of tourists descend upon it, swiflty replacing serenity with circus madness. Imagine a herd of sheep, 40 busloads of them running amok in a temple the size of a rather large supermarket and you get our drift. Time to pedal on.

On the far flung southeastern corner of our circuit awaits Pre Rup; a Hindu pyramid-shaped temple mountain with the uppermost of its 3 tiers carrying five impressive lotus towers. Pre Rup meaning "turning of the Body" which eminent archeologists think refers to a traditional method of cremation where the body is bbq'd in hot cinders. All good with us, it makes for fine commanding views over the countryside.

Tracking up, we cycle into the Eastern Baray, a truly enormous 8 x 2km one-time water reservoir fed by the Stung Siem Reap River. A depression of dry wasteland is all that remains which makes for a nice but exhausting ride past grazing ox. Approaching noon, temperatures are quickly reaching pitch fever and it's becoming punishingly hot on our bikes. Our next temple; 'East Mebon' lies at the centre of the Baray, once an island it now lies dry baking in the sun. A smaller version of Pre Rup dedicated to Shiva we find it very much same same but different. The elephant statues are cool though and the shade offers a welcome respite.

Many hours and several temples later we arrive at our last destination for the the day; 'Preah Khan'. A Buddhist temple sanctuary Bayon style it's a teaser for what's to come in the next few days. Chockered with bass reliefs, hidden passages, vaulted corridors, cylindricral columns and piles of tumbled sandstone blocks it resembles somewhat of an archeologists playground. Better still, basking in the glow of the late afternoon sun we have the place to ourselves - inspirational.

5:30pm and utterly shattered to bits we prepare for the long ride home through the fortified city of Angkor Thom, past the splendid terraces of the leper king and the Bayon - all deserted with not a soul in sight, until we get to Phnom Bakheng - the sunset temple where a spectacle awaits. Hundreds of renegade buses and tuktuks parked about, scores of people stumbling down the temple stairways in the twilight. We pedal past as fast as as our feet allow but to no avail, soon we find ourselves in the midst of a motorised turmoil weaving in and out between hooting tuktuks, cars, buses, and lots of cambodian dust. An experience in its own right =) Sure enough all this traffic soon comes to a grinding halt on the one single lane road into town. Not that it matters much to us, watching the spectacle unfold from the excellent roadside BBQ Suki, a wicked Khmer all-you-can-eat barbeque spot. We must have looked like the shaggiest dishevelled bunch ever amidst the upper class of Khmer society.

Fortunately the next few days aren't nearly as epic, yet there are some real delights to be had. Meandering up the forested path to watch the sun rise over Angkor Wat from the holy temple mountain Phnom Bakheng...

Entering the forbidden city of Angkor Thom, the last capital of the mighty Khmer empire; dwarfed while cycling through one of its massive gateways...The Bayon with its numerous classic towers and their four giant stone faces looking down upon us mere mortals, while its extensive wall murals provide a glimpse into daily life eight centuries ago...

The richly decorated terraces of the leper king, or the terrace of elephants perhaps with its 300 metre long facade of carved life-sized elephants and garudas; standing upon the same grand viewing platforms the Kings once admired the processions of their mighty marching armies from.

Or how about watching the sun rise over the five lotus towers of Angkor Wat whilst sipping a hot coffee at 6am in the morning? Or even strolling past the sandstone murals which depict grand storylines such as the churning of the oceans of milk; an ancient tug of war between gods and demons, pulling the serpent coiled around the Holy Mount Mandala, churning up the seas to extract the elixir of life. Unforgettable experiences!

Easy as pie the following days are. You would not believe how much you come to appreciate a tuktuk after having been on the saddle for two long days. Zipping around checking out Banteay Srei; the finest display of intricate sandstone carvings yet.

The landmine museum established by Aki Ra - a former Khmer Rouge child soldier turned DIY deminer. Onsite an orphanage taking care of the landmine victims, centred around a wacky depository of defused mines, mortars and other ordinance - the very source of their predicament.

Or the Artisans 'd Angkor - a stunning shop of classy silk garments and sandstone sculptures, made by impoverished street children turned to traditional trades. A wee bit too expensive for us not too mention that a slab of sandstone doesn't travel well either, but the free silk worm tour which showed us all the stages of production was fascinating all the same. In case you wondered the grub tastes kinda nutty. Also discovered the best cocktails yet. Delicious 'dragonfly' - a concoction of Midori, Contreau, lime, pineapple juice and vodka, and the 'beach monkey' - a sweet treat made of rum, malibu, banana liquer and grenadine. Ice cold and served in mammoth long glasses just the way we like them. $1.50 each - go us!

Temple Therapy in Siem Reap - Cambodia remains copyright of the author beefnlamb, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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