Finding Nemo: Nha Trang

After a few cold days in Dalat, we were excited to find the sun again. The bus journey was long, but it was interesting watching the green hills turn into flat, red sandy coastal towns again. After out visit to Mui Ne, we were hoping for something a little better from Nha Trang.

As the buildings grew larger and the traffic got worse, we knew we were getting close. Once in the city, we were, again, dropped a few miles from anywhere of interest. We had to quickly get our bearings (google maps), grab our bags and start walking. At first it was nice getting back in the sun. Our bodies had quickly grown accustom to the drop in heat that we experienced in Dalat. There’s too much Scandinavian blood in Malene and British blood in me for it to take too long to get used to the cold again. Walking down Nha Trang’s main road, with the beach on our left and huge, elaborate hotels on our right, we knew we still had a while to go.

Beach days.

There was really only one thing on the itinerary for us to do here in Nha Trang. Malene was dying to do here open water dive course and after a lot of research, she had previously set her mind on this place. Why? 20 meter under water visibility (more than Thailand apparently) and the lack of sharks and other big fish of which she’s not so keen on. With Malene set on this, we headed towards the place she wanted to book it through. We thought, if she was going to do a 4/5 day course, then we should really be living close to the dive centre. I could feel her excitement rise in every step we took. For me, diving isn’t really on my shopping list. You could push me out of plane, off a waterfall or even off a bridge with a piece of elastic strapped to my ankles: I wouldn’t have the slightest of problems. But when it comes to underwater activities, be it diving or even snorkeling, then that’s where I draw the line. I like air. I feel I need air to have a good time and also to live too. Take that away and replace it with a big cylinder fixed to my back and something to inhale on and it just doesn’t feel right. I will be staying on terra firma as Malene dives into the deep and I wished her all the best.

At the dive centre (apparently the only National Geographic approved one in Nha Trang) we spent a long time going through the course and spoke to the guy that would be guiding Malene all the way. As I wouldn’t be there to help her with anything, it was crucial that she felt comfortable and happy, especially considering the cost of it all. We both felt a little nervous and didn’t know if it would be enjoyable or not. Still, I was fine. I knew it left me time to kick back, hit the beach and have a few lazy days, bring it on!

Around the block from the dive centre, we found a lovely little guesthouse that was owned by an elderly lady, but run by her niece. The rooms were a good size, with tv (ready for the F1 that weekend!), bathroom and fan and cost us 6$ a night: not complaining. The family also had two little children that were a delight and made us feel part of a family.

For a full account of Malene’s dive course, you’re going to have to ask her yourself. From what I’ve heard, she loved just about every minute. The first day was spent in the ‘classroom’ where she worked through a series of written tests (all in English). She of course passed them with flying colours and was itching for the next stage: the pool. This was her first experience using all the equipment, but in the safety of a pool rather than out at sea. Again, learning all the time, Malene got to grips with the different skills and sign language used whilst under the water. The final 2 days is where the real experience takes place. After an hours boat ride, she performed multiple dives and saw a myriad of underwater life. She particularly enjoyed playing with the little Nemo fish as they swam between her fingers. Back at the dive shop, together we went through the book of fish, and like a check list, she told me about all the beautiful exotic fish she saw, as well as the colourful coral. I am so proud of Malene for accomplishing something like this, and in English as well. I have so much respect for those that go out diving as its something that I can’t get my head around and I’m so glad that Malene had the opportunity to do it in this amazing part of the world.

Kitted up and ready to go.

Showing off her new paperwork.

As for me, it was a quiet, yet productive week. Instead of waking up at the crack of dawn to catch buses, I could take it easy, wonder the streets and meet locals. It gave me time to get up to date with this blog, although I think I need far more time to really make a dent in the work I still need to do.

Best smoothies ever.

Nha Trang was quickly becoming a favorite of ours. With clean, beautiful beaches, a relaxed atmosphere and the strange backdrop of the mountains, it was a stunning place to relax and live in for a week. What could make it better? Mud baths! One evening, we hired a scooter (yes, I have the scooter bug!) put on what looked like ex-military helmets and climbed through the deserted back streets to a quiet spa. It was like a little piece of heaven. Tucked away between gorgeous mountains we were definitely excited to plunge into the brown baths. Supposedly very good for the skin, but I didn’t really need an excuse to try them out. The mud was warm and quite thick. In fact, it was a very strange feeling as you can float in the bath and obviously what we needed after a very *cough* stressful few days. Life is so good! We then washed off and proceeded to a natural spring water bath and felt like royalty. Unfortunately there was no one willing to feed us grapes as we bathed in the silence of the mountains and so took a nice swim in the equally impressive swimming pool. As my first ever spa experience, it would be one that’s going to be hard to beat.

Relaxing in the mud.

After Malene’s diving course, we had one final day in Nha Trang and one final box to tick: Vinpearl Land. Situated on an island just off the coast and accessible via the worlds longest over sea cable car; reason enough to go we thought! Suspended 40 meters above the water and with jaw dropping views over the city, it felt a little bit like we were on a ski trip, but this time we were in swim shorts and on route to a huge theme park. It was time to feel like teenagers again! In the theme park, there are some pretty cool rides, including the Alpine Roller coaster that hoists you up the mountain in a little 2 man bob sleigh. From the top, the views were incredible. And as you race down the tracks, you control the speed with a little hand break – you go as fast as you dare! We literally skipped our way around the park, trying everything, eating cheap burgers and playing old school arcade games. Bumper cars was an obvious hit, but as midday crept up and with it the heat, the water park would be our next stop. With a maze of walkways and hundreds of water slides to try out, we felt giddy with choice. We tried everything. Twice. Sometimes more. At the end of it, we relaxed on the little beach with a beer and watched the water lap the sand.

Hollywood style sign at Vinpearl.

Young at heart.

Head over heels.

There is also a wonderful aquarium with a long tunneled walk through whe you can watch sting rays and sharks as the circle above your head. I might not be game for diving, but this was incredible. I felt like I was part of a David Attenborough documentary and even found some little Nemo fish – Malene wasn’t the only one! This place comes with our highest recommendations, its not difficult being young again here and we’ll take home memories that will last forever. Ok, it might not be a typical Asian experience, but nice for a change of scenery.

My type of diving.

With more bus problems, this time a little more serious, we in fact spent an extra night in Nha Trang. We weren’t complaining, as it meant the bus company had to pay for our, now upgraded, room. Hello A/C! The following day, we would head up the coast to Hoi An, apparently an old, French styled town situated on a river. Not really sure what we would do there, but had heard some pretty good things. Goes without saying: excited? Check.

Phnom Penh: A Dark History

There were 3 bus options available to us for traveling to Cambodia’s capital from sleepy Kratie: 7$, 8$ and 9$. We went for the 7$ option. This meant that in the mini bus, the rows of seats that usually took 3 people, would actually be taken by 4. It was a bit of a squeeze, but our new friends: Jo and Tom shared the row with us. The journey was relatively painless, with only a few legs falling asleep as the were propped up on the seats in front. As we crawled into Phnom Penh, it became instantly apparent just how quiet Kratie was in comparison. Traffic was already pilling up, skyscrapers lined the river edge and it wasn’t difficult to spot tourists walking down the streets. We felt like very little fish in a daunting and noisy new world.

As we jumped off the bus, the heat quickly inveloped us. We dodged what felt like a hundred taxi/rickshaw drivers and headed south in search of cheap accommodation. Tom and I took the lead (I was secretly just following him!) and the girls had a good chin wag a few meters behind. We had an idea of our destination, but didn’t really know if there would be any suitable hotels/guesthouses there. We walked for quite a long time. At one point, I’m sure someone attached a couple of rocks to my bag and my back was quickly giving way; time for a break. Finding a little cafe, our bags literally fell off our backs and we slumped into the fine plastic chairs provided. A cold jug of beer was quickly ordered and all of a sudden, our problems seemed to dissipate as we gulped down Phnom Penh’s finest nectar. Soon enough, Tom and I were called up by the girls to go find a place to stay. Relieved from our bags, searching the nearby streets was almost effortless in comparison with our earlier walk. It took no more than 10 minutes to find a nice guesthouse. Although it was a little out of our budget at 8$ a night, we felt that it was close enough to Phnom Penh’s main attractions (saving travel costs) and we excepted it with open arms.

Phnom Penh’s most famous tourist attractions include the killing fields, just south of the city and S21 – the school turned security prison ran by the Khmer Rouge and the site of over 20,000 killings between 1975 – 1979.

The 4 of us walked to S21, locally known as Tuol Sleng genocide museum. It was clear to see how this place was once a school. Simple buildings, full of classrooms, playgrounds with climbing frames; it was once a place of learning, happiness, you could almost still hear the children playing. But the Khmer Rouge leader, Pol Pot soon changed this innocent place. The buildings were enclosed with electrified barbed wire, classrooms turned to interrogation and torture rooms and the windows were fitted with bars to prevent escape. The whole place was kept, exactly as it was found back in the late 70’s. The steel framed beds remained with the chains and torture equipment. Blood stains still visible on the cold concrete floors. Rudimentary prison cells still intact for new generations to view and learn from the horrors of the past.

Classroom turned torture room.

Chalk-boards still in place.

Walking through a nightmare.

As the prisoners were captured and brought to S21, each individual was photographed. These mug shots are now on show and line the ground floor rooms. So many innocent faces, including women and young children. As you move through the rooms, the photographs of the captured turn even darker. As proof death, the Khmer Rouge soldiers would use photos of the dead prisoners as proof that they performed their duties for their superiors to see. Brutal photographs showing twisted, burnt and abused bodies line the walls. It was truly gut-wrenching to look at. Innocent babies were killed and photographed, simple farm workers, men and women alike were tortured using rudimentary tools and shown no mercy. So many images, so many faces and so many fearing and tearful eyes. A place, submerged in blood soaked history and a visit we shall never forget, nor forgive.

Barbed-wire holding the innocent in.

Once a school…

From here, we flagged down a tuk tuk and headed straight for the infamous killing fields. An area where both dead and alive Cambodian bodies were brought. Here, the mass graves of thousands are still visible. Walking around the eerie site, it’s not hard to imagine the brutality and suffering that once happened here. It is said that 14000 Cambodians are buried at this site, but no one really knows the exact amount. One poignant place here is the tree in which young children and babies were killed through bashing their bodies against its trunk. It is now used for remembrance of the lost lives and covered in red wrist bands. Although an important insight into the gruesome history that once encaptured this land, it was an incredibly hard and a very emotional day for us.

Mass graves.

Remembering those that had no chance.

The following day, Malene and I had our work cut out. We started off at the Vietnamese Embassy and arranged our visas. This was all very exciting. We were taking the first steps towards visiting what was probably my most highly anticipated country. After all the horror stories of fake visas issued by hotels, it was nice to be reassured that we wouldn’t be turned away at the border. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Vietnam was still a couple of weeks away, and we were loving Cambodia!

Second item on our shopping list for the day was our return flight ticket. We hunted down the Qatar Airways office (hidden pretty well) and began the long and laborious task of changing not only our outbound dates, but the outbound airport as well. It took hours. At one point, it looked like we were hitting an unbeatable brick wall. But our persistence paid off and finally we had our new ticket in our hands. The date was set. The airport now changed to Hanoi, Vietnam. All that remained was for it to sink in. Time to grab Jo and Tom and order a tower of beer. I mean, literally a tower. 3 liters of chilled Angkor beer for 17000 Riels or about £2.80…it was a great night with two amazing friends. Thanks for all the good times guys and even more so, all the fantastic information on Vietnam. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.

And for you Phnom Penh, what an emotional ride you gave us. We will remember your history and feel for all the families that have lost during your horrific ordeal. A country that lost 4 million people out of a population of just 7 million is a number hard to comprehend. A history never to be forgotten.

Stepping out of India and into…Goa!

Arriving into Madgoan and you’d be hard pressed to notice anything strange or un-Indian about the place. We got off the train at 5am and apart from a handful of white people (spotting them has become a bit of a game) everything felt normal: the heat was sticky, the rickshaws wanted silly money to take us the main bus station and the locals were already in full flow. We found a local bus that would take us to the main station and upon entering it, immediately felt the Goan party spirit. With colorful lights dotted across the ceiling and music from various speakers we chugged our way through the dark city. Luckily, it was only a couple of minutes ride as the bags resting on our legs had started to deprive our feet of much needed blood. Still, everything felt ‘normal’.

At the bus station (known as the bus ‘stand’) we waited for 20 minutes and enjoyed another cup of chai. After enquiring as to our bus, we were pointed to one that was parked across the courtyard. Brilliant! Before all the locals crammed on and took the best seats, we had first pick and after checking again with the driver, we climbed aboard. One thing we’ve learnt that you can never do enough of in India, is to ask for help, especially when it comes to transportation. Ask as many people as possible if its ‘the right train…’ or ‘the right bus’. The locals are always helpful, but often wrong, hence why collecting as many opinions as possible is the safest way. On the bus, we stowed our bags in the drivers cabin and watched him as he prepared his bus; spiritually. Using incense (3 sticks), the man offered the cleansing aroma to pictures of his various gods that were dotted around the cabin. As smoke slowly danced its way to Malene and I, we found it quietly calming as we watched the sun slowly rise. Again, normal.

With the bus packed full of locals on their way to work and school, we took off on the journey which took about an hour. As we climbed mountains and raced down the other side, palm trees and dense forest engulfed us. The sun was already out and our adrenaline was being fueled by the speed the driver was managing to get out of the old bus. It’s like he was always 10 minutes behind schedule and trying to catch up. The winding roads both up and down the hills didn’t stop him overtaking various other motorists whether the corner was blind or not. Even passing an accident between a lorry and a couple of cars didn’t seem to lessen the haste at which he traveled. Everything was still normal.

We then made our way through the small town of Palolem and closer to the beach, of which we still hadn’t seen yet. The shops crammed shoulder to shoulder along the main street and signs for yoga, beach huts and restaurants seemed to swamp the road side. As it was still only half 6 on the morning, apart from the shop owners cleaning their front steps, there were very few other people around. We stepped off the bus and walked down to the entrance of the beach. On the 200 meter walk to the sand, we started to notice something. Something that seemed strange. There were soo many white people! It was still early in the morning, but local Indians were nowhere to be seen, instead, white tourists and very few clothes between them. As we’re got down to the golden beach and started our slow, labored walk, more tourists could be seen. The beach was covered with bikinis, topless men, short shorts and glowing white skin. A little bit dazed, we managed to find our ‘resort’: The Nest.

With a beautiful beach bar and little wooden huts surrounded by palm trees, we made our way to the bar. We met the slightly strange, yet kind owner, Mohal. As our room (or rather hut) wasn’t ready, we moved our bags into the restaurant where we enjoyed breakfast and a coffee over-looking the beach and the glorious sea. We were still so struck to see so many white people. We had come across a few tourists in the past cities, but we were always the minority. Here, the tables had turned.

Our beach hut was simple, yet beautiful. Equipped with bathroom and shower with hot water, a terrace and hammock that looked straight onto the beach, it was as if we had died and gone to heaven. Unfortunately, that feeling wouldn’t last the duration of our stay in Goa. That day, we lay on the sun loungers, drank cold beer and read our books. With the crashing waves like a soundtrack to our peace, it felt like the essence of chilling. Of course, with such a hyped tourism market, the prices, food, drinks and music all represented what the Western holiday maker wanted – we were quick to learn that this was not what we wanted.

With prices double what we had been paying for the last 4 months, we were struggling to keep to our daily budget of £15 each (including travel expenses). Yes, it was still cheap compared to Western standards, but we had grown accustomed to Indian prices and spending our daily budget on the accommodation alone was eating into more than just our wallets. We’re not cheap people, but we also don’t have lots of money to spend on luxury hotels and fancy food. Here in Goa, we were constantly thinking about whether we could afford that meal or how it would affect the rest of our travels. On the other hand (and without sounding too hypocritical), the food was absolutely delicious. On our small beach, there were plenty of restaurants to choose from, all with first class views of the beach and perfect sunsets – every night. Menus were crammed with continental dishes and fresh fish including lobster, prawns, king fish, octopus and shark. Most of the restaurants laid there tables out on the sand, and with just the candle light and the stars, we would spend hours just gazing out into the open sea.

The little shops in town (one street) were jammed full off colorful memorabilia and over eager owners. Although the colorful spices, sweet smell of incense and beautiful dresses looked wonderful, actually browsing through it all is next to impossible thanks to these shop owners. As a potential customer, you are constantly told “good price for you”, or “you look for free” and trying to leave empty handed is almost seen as criminal. It’s a real shame as the items for sale are truly beautiful, but unless you know exactly what you want, I would recommend giving these shops a wide birth. Hard as it may be, ignoring the shop owners tends to be the best policy for all parties.

After many quick dashes between various cities on the way down, we decided to spend a week here to recharge our batteries. Traveling is great fun and you always learn so much about yourself as well as culture around you. But it is tiring, in fact exhausting and spending a week in the sun came as a welcome break. It was just a shame that we had to leave ‘India’ in order to do so. We loved the nights in the mini open-air cinema and enjoying salmon and scrambled eggs for breakfast, but this place is so far removed from India that it feels like you’re back in Europe. In fact it came to the point where actually seeing local Indians on the beach was quite rare – probably in the same way as they saw tourists in the rest of the country.

Monkey Island provided a nice get-away from all of this. Although just a short walk from the beach, this island, covered by palm trees and monkeys, was a nice place to come to. And with a fresh pineapple, Malene and I could sit and watch the crashing sea and feel a little bit lost once again. Perfect.

The white sands and blue seas of Goa is of course a memorable place. The question is whether its memorable for the right reasons. Of course it was nice to recoup, get some ‘normal’ food and speak English again, but on the other hand, isn’t that cheating? The nice thing about India is that it doesn’t take too much from you, but instead gives back so, so much. This isn’t a conclusion we could make of Goa. So, thank you for your sandy beaches and your cooling sea swims, but we’re looking forward to stepping back into India – crazy, I know!

Our next stop is Hampi and its sacred monuments – will we find India again?