Hanoi

I already miss Hanoi. A jumbled, pulsing city full of back streets filled to bursting with all sorts of stalls, shops and street food. It's a great place to hang out and meet people.

Hanoi traffic is particularly crazy, even by the standards of developing countries. Traffic is dominated by bicycles, scooters and motorcycles and if the road is clogged, these all flood onto the sidewalks. The best (and indeed only) way to cross the road is simply to walk out into the traffic and let it flow around you. It's important to go slowly so that the various bikers have a chance to judge your speed and trajectory. Junctions are a wonder to behold, particularly from above. Traffic signals are rare - instead, traffic slows down and merging streets weave through each other in an intricate dance. The system doesn't always work however and I was twice involved in minor crashes while perched on the back of motorcycle taxis. No one ever gets irate. It's just all part of the wider traffic of life.


Uncle Ho's mausoleum. The poor chap wanted to be cremated but the state had other ideas. I filed past his waxy remains with lots of Vietnamese. He's only open from 8am to 10:30am, 5 days a week. Being a dead communist leader would seem like a good gig, at least in terms of the hours.


The Ho Chi Minh Museum was the strangest museum I've ever been to. Rather than historical exhibits or information it instead displayed a collection of symbolic exhibits, attempting to show Ho's struggle and that of the nation. It was all pretty impenetrable to me, this strange sculpture being a prime example.


A typical back street in Hanoi's Old Quarter.


I bought some oranges from this bright and breezy street seller.


The street food in Hanoi was excellent. Each stall specializes in a particular kind of dish, which makes repeat ordering very simple but the first visit very complex.


I bought an old Soviet watch from this repair stall. The number of shops and stalls devoted to repairing everything from motorcycles to clocks makes you realise what a throw-away society the West has become.


On the way back through Bangkok I enjoyed this super tasty street stall meal, which came with beer served over ice in a child's bucket. Mmmm. Bucket of beer.


Spectators in Bangkok rooting for their boxer at a Thai boxing arena.


Thai boxing is a very young mans sport and surprisingly full of fascinating ritual.

Back in Bangkok

After 500 km I reached Phenom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, of which more in another post. It was strange seeing Westerners again and as I cycled the busy streets looking for a guest house I felt a little sense of achievement at having got here under my own steam - so far I've not seen another Western cyclist on the roads of Cambodia.

Soon after I arrived, I was off to the airport to fly back to Bangkok to see my buddy Moleskin Matt get married. What a fun and fascinating time! Moleskin met his wife Poom while he was working in Bangkok several years ago. He's quite the South East Asian connoisseur, speaking Thai and having completed several of his own cycle odysseys in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. It was great to catch up with him and meet Poom, who is predictably as terrific as young Moleskin. A perfect match.

The ceremony itself was the third of the week, following civil and Buddhist proceedings. It unfolded over several hours during which the number attending slowly swelled from a hundred to around 600 as family were joined by friends and finally business associates. It was fascinating and much fun and has been a perfect break from the bike for the weekend. Cheers to Poom and Matt!

Poom and Moleskin spent most of the many hours of the ceremony kneeling and greeting everyone with hands pressed together in sawadee. This was the 'pouring of the water' part of the ceremony.


On your knees boy! (as the KLF would have said, had they been invited).


This was the grand finale of speeches, toasting and over 600 guests.


The cake has nine layers, for luck. The 18th was similarly a most auspicious day on which to be married.


It was a very grand and spectacular occasion with ice sculptures and everything!

Into Cambodia

I flew into Bangkok with my bike in a box in the hold. My vague plan is to cycle across Cambodia and Laos and into Vietnam. I've not planned much beyond the first week since I'm sure I'll do a better job of figuring it out as I learn more about the country the bike and me. I've already found out quite a bit. I'm flying solo on this trip while Mary stays at home for a few weeks.

My first job was to get to the Cambodian border. I took the train to avoid the maze of traffic around Bangkok. It was then a simple 7km cycle from the station at Aranyaprathet to the border and a fairly straightforward visa process. Once inside Cambodia the fun began.

The road from Poipet to Siem Reap, my first major destination, was pure hell. Stones and bugs peppered windshields but all I had was teeth and Raybans. Holes, sand, stones, mud and dust made the going very slow. Above all other trials was the dust, which gets everywhere - in your lungs, in your teeth, in the bike, in your gear. I ended each day with my clothes, skin, and bike the same color as the locals. All the color of Cambodian dust.

On the train from Bangkok, approaching the Cambodian border.


My first portrait of the bike. Not quite the same subject appeal as Mary I'll admit, but she does have lovely lines of her own, and 27 speeds.


In my international league of photo-enthusiasm - where the shy Tibetans are the yardstick of reticence - Cambodia makes it's entry straight in at the number one spot with a bullet, beating India and Nepal into joint second place. These kids were absolutely beside themselves at seeing their picture on the camera screen. Although they lived beside the 'highway' the buses don't stop in their village and so I guess they'd perhaps never seen a digital camera. I hope the bike continues to work it's magic like this.


150km of the dusty road from hell.