The fridge incident

Today it nearly happened - I was almost run over by a refrigerator. Totally understandable when the refrigerator was......on a bicycle. Can't really blame the man riding the bike - after all, his vision was blocked.....by a refrigerator.

To recover from the shock, a strong Vietnamese coffee was required. The menu was not in English, so I had a stab at 'black coffee'. Ended up with a bubbling cup of lukewarm coffee with Baileys???,  served in a bowl of boiling water. Note to self - learn Vietnamese words for hot and black.

Hue is home to an impressive 19th Century Imperial City, citadel, river and ancient tombs, but as usual for me, the most interesting stuff happens when just wandering the streets.  Like defying death-by-fridge. 

My enjoyment of travel is fast becoming much less about the sights and much more about the experience.

Smilers

They are everywhere around Hoi An.   The smiles I had been longing to see in Hanoi, are here in abundance, given freely and full of the joy of life.

No different to any other part of the world, it is often only a short trip away from a big city and the world looks different.  Vietnam is beginning to share its heart and soul.

Searching

I went in search of quirky but instead found just plain charming.

Hoi An is an immediately likeable Vietnamese coastal town, full of character, old buildings and tailors.  If you want a new suit, this is your town. If you want great restaurants, cafes and streets without many motorbikes, this is also your town.

If you are looking for an easy, overseas romantic destination, again, you'd be in the right place. Between the nearest airport in Danang and Hoi An, there is the longest strip of suitably gaudy wedding reception venues I've ever seen in one place. The taxi driver did his best to support that business by playing a series of 'love-song dedications' style music during the 30 minute plus trip into Hoi An.  Quite a treat.

On my travels these last few months, I've been in the minority compared to the numbers of Europeans travellers.  In Vietnam, I'm just one of the masses of Aussie tourists - not surprising, given how cheap and easy it is as a travel destination.  It's also a nice change to be able to use some slang and have people understand me.

By day, the river, beach and markets are full of life, but from the early evening, as the temperature starts to cool marginally, the place really comes alive and you can eat, drink, stroll and say "No thanks" to boat drivers in a very relaxed environment. 

And if you like lanterns and mood lighting, then it REALLY is your kind of place.​  And everyone smiles - which is making me very happy.

Junks in the mist

My requests to the weather gods for sunshine were ignored.

Even with a combination of rain, clouds and mist, the natural beauty of Halong Bay shone through and it became obvious why it is such a heavily visited World Heritage Site.

On a three day, two night trip, there was a stark contrast between the days.  As much as I like boats and tourists en masse, my sense of independent travel quickly evaporated on day one, as I followed the hundreds of other tourists in a queue, through the obligatory, but impressive, hillside caves.   This was then followed by the opportunity to line up, wearing a lifejacket four sizes too big, to wait for a paddle and a kayak, to do a token 30 minute paddle around the rocks.  I declined the opportunity.

The on-board night time karaoke was actually quite fun, although the Vietnamese boat crew do like to monopolise the microphone.  Bob Marley's "No Woman, No Cry" really sounds kind of cool when sung with a Vietnamese accent.​

​Day two was a heap of fun because it included a trip to Cat Ba Island.  The island is a natural, rugged place where we cycled and walked in the rain through some gorgeous scenery before being taken to the beachside bungalows.  Then it started to feel more deserted and was a great chance to enjoy some solo kayaking among incredible limestone karst formations and down fjord-like waterways.  An absolute highlight for me.

Day ​three and it was back on the boat to cruise through the very peaceful Lan Ha Bay, before returning to Hanoi via the always-pleasant return bus trip full of weary, cramped but happy travellers (mostly). 

After viewing one particular life raft on board, I was glad that the main boat had been seaworthy.  The raft may have been past its prime. but made a nice decoration on the top deck.

Mission Impossible

The mission here in Vietnam - keep smiling at the locals on the streets in Hanoi until someone smiles back.  Anyone trying to sell anything doesn't count (they have to, whether they want to or not).

After three months of wandering, my travel mojo waned a little after six days straight in big, smoggy, noisy cities in three different countries. The lack of smiling Vietnamese was not helping.  I went in search of other things to make me smile in Hanoi's Old Quarter and found them amongst the narrow, busy streets full of motorbikes, street food, motorbike parking stations,  market stalls and more motorbikes.

It soon became clear that strong, black Vietnamese coffee (my new addiction) goes well with a fresh baguette.  They are sold everywhere on the side of the road, but I prefer mine not to to be covered in petrol fumes. I prefer to have it in a cafe where it is most likely bought from the same petrol fumed baguette seller, but I can remain blissfully ignorant as to its source.

There is money to burn here and on lots of street corners are locals burning fake US dollars and lottery tickets.  Supposedly it gives good health, luck and prosperity but I'm not testing that theory with mine.

​But today it was time to get my nature fix and substitute motorbike noise for greenery with a visit to Cuc Phuong National Park - two and a half hours drive south of Hanoi.  It's a mixture of limestone crags, jungle vegetation and massive, old trees.  A nine kilometre hike uphill through the beautiful scenery and I was rewarded with seeing one particular tree that is famous for being 1,000 years old.  If you've ever wondered what a 1,000 year old tree looks like, see below.  

My very gay tour guide did, however, smile all day - except for when he squealed like a girl, covered his head and ran up the path when he thought he heard an animal.  Being an expert on the fauna in this national park, I reassured him that he was safe.......​  He quickly went back to telling me how his mother is waiting for him to get married.    Just quietly, I think she might have a bit of a wait.

I might not achieve success on my Hanoi smile mission, but it is certainly not going to be impossible to enjoy the sights and sounds outside of the city in this incredibly diverse country.  ​

Narrowing it down

My problem - how to narrow down three weeks worth of images from one of the most diverse and wonderous countries on my travels.

I am delighted to finally share a selection on the Wandering Hart website. Check out Travel Gallery > Myanmar.

The pictures will, I hope, transport you temporarily into the world of lakes, beaches, mountains, temples and cities, both ancient and modern snd give you a glimpse of life in a unique part of the world.

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but pictures will never be able to truly convey the warmth and kindness that is the Burmese people.

Many countries have amazing history and sights, but it is the people that made the experience truly special for me.

If you take a liking to any of the images and would like to download them, I'd really appreciate being contacted first and can send you a high resolution version (for a small cost).

After all, a girl's gotta make a living!

A special rock

Wednesday was one of those those days that I will not forget for a long time.

After a five hour train trip from Yangon, I too made the pilgrimage up Mt Kyaikhtiyo (Golden Rock), to join the thousands of Buddhists visiting this sacred site.

There are two ways up the mountain, by foot (six hours) or by truck. I chose truck. Even more of an open air experience than the train, the trucks are sardine-packed with the devout and wind their way uphill with amazing speed. Quite a challenge to take photos and hang on for dear life at the back, but a lot of fun.

The rock itself is, well ........ round and golden, with a little stupa on top. It's a huge, balancing boulder and the combination of a spectacular location, lush green vegetation and people watching made it an experience well worth coming for.

Equally intriguing were the quirky stalls selling hats, preserved fruit and wooden toys, although I remain confused about the need to sell wooden guns at a religious site ........

It was also unforgettable at a very personal level and I will always regret the decision to eat that bloody fried rice before heading up. Such was my experience on the top that the camera barely made it out of my bag and I left a lot more of myself on that sacred site than will ever be healthy.

Travel always has its ups and downs.

Golden days

It really doesn't take much for me to get excited as a photographer - good light and quirky street life bring a smile to my face every time. Having made it to Yangon, Myanmar's capital city, it is difficult to be disappointed.

Yangon is home to the biggest gold-gilded thing most people will ever see - Shwedagon Paya. Watching the light fade over this magnificent 100 metre high stupa is a magical experience and one of the most sacred Buddhist sites in Myanmar.

But just as memorable for me have been the little sights, sounds, smells and experiences. Like taking in the diverse architecture from Muslim mosques to colonial buildings, watching someone getting a pedicure sitting outside a construction site, smelling the Indian chapatis frying on the streetside and laughing with the women having a picnic beside the green, mossy water of the lake.

Equally amusing was having my palm read with incredible accuracy then being asked out for a beer by the palm reader..... (I was busy that day), having the train ticket seller, the taxi driver and the hotel reception guys all tell me how beautiful I am (still busy). Myanmar men are definitely good for a girl's self-esteem!

With only a few days left in this wonderful country, I am going to spend five hours tomorrow on a local train to go and visit a big rock. But it's golden and that will make it all worthwhile.

Location, location

Someone needs to tell the ageing, overweight German tourists that swimwear and a video camera does not pass as 'suitably dressed' in a Burmese fishing village. Or anywhere for that matter (it's a hard look to pull off well). The lack of cultural awareness by some tourists continues to amaze me.

I am at beautiful Ngapali Beach on the Bay of Bengal on Myanmar 's coast, listening to the sound of the gentle waves brushing the shoreline. After nearly three months of horns, trucks, motorbikes, cars, prayers, karaoke, loud televisions and roosters at ungodly hours, the peace and relative quiet is a welcome respite.

Geared at a higher-end European market, rooms here don't come cheap. At $50 a night, it's been my most expensive accommodation yet anywhere in Asia, but the lure of the clear water, white sand and no dust was too strong. From my bungalow door, it is a long three metre walk onto the sand and into the ocean. It's tough, but I am doing my best to cope.

Past all the expensive tourist resorts, there is a fishing village full of fishermen, boats, baskets of fresh fish and sheets of small, silver fish drying in the sun. Despite a rapidly growing tourist market, real life is never far away in Myanmar.

Unfortunately the ugly change that tourism often brings is also not far away here. I was touched when a little village girl gave me a shell as a 'present' .......... then tried to exhort money, sweets and a pen from me. It was not her lucky day.

Dust and temples

I was hot, dusty,sweaty, hungry and tired - not a good combination when my bicycle was 'parked in' during tourist gridlock at sunset at a major viewing temple.

When I finally snapped, it was the tenth boy trying to sell me postcards that I unleashed on. "NO, I do not want any of your postcards!!! Just leave me alone to get my bike out!" I then had a lesson in humility when he stared at me with his big, brown eyes, called over his friends and they moved a motorbike so I could get my bike, expecting nothing in return. I was an ugly tourist and not proud.

It has been a big few days of hot, dusty bicycling on sandy tracks around one of the most spectacular archaeological sites in the world - the Temples of Bagan. Everywhere you look, there are 13th century temples and pagodas scattered over the surrounding plains - over 3,300 of them. They are hard to miss and their lure is impossible to ignore. Except between 12 and 4pm when there is nothing more unappealing than looking at rocks in the sun.

Despite being hot, sweaty and dusty, this fair-skinned traveller had another rock-star moment this morning when an entire, very big family, wanted photos with me at a temple. I have to admit, when there were 18 Burmese people telling me I was beautiful, I began to feel just a little less hot, sweaty and dusty.

iPhone photos won't do it justice, but here's a few anyway, including my rockstar family.

Moments

It is hard to know at what moment it happened. The moment that I realised how much this country has endeared itself to me.

Maybe it was the little boy that played a seed-moving game with me on the floor of his village hut.

Maybe it was his thirteen year old sisters who, after staring at me for ages, put on lipstick and nailpolish before giggling and coming to show me. (Just to be clear, I was wearing neither - I was trekking, after all). They obviously decided I needed improvement and applied some traditional Thanakha paste to my face. On their beautiful dark skin it looks exotic - it just made my face look like I needed a wash.

It could have been cycling along the bumpy, dusty roads and passing a 300 year old monastery that anywhere else in the world would be an attraction in its own right.

Perhaps it was navigating the narrow, weeded channels leading into the lake, with my bike in the boat.

Was it the novice monk initiation ceremony/parade that passed right by my hotel room? Beautifully dressed girls in their finery, the young monks-to-be on horseback, dressed like princes in white and joyous drummers and singers at the end of the line?

I'm pretty sure it was meditating in a cave on a hillside that has sealed the deal so far.

Maybe it's just the whole lot.

Just looking

There are days for being a traveller and days when you have to be a tourist.

Just like everybody else on one of the traditional flat-bottomed longboats on Inle Lake today, I was unashamedly a tourist. It is a lake like no other and despite a few tourist hotspots, Inle is a working lake. Home to a number of tribes and villages, the lake also has monasteries, floating villages, pagodas, markets and incredible floating gardens growing everything from pumpkins to tomatoes.

If I was a smoker (like every other foreigner in Asia seems to be), the 'sweet cigars' that I watched being made would have made a nice souvenir. The combination of tobacco, brown sugar and some other secret herbs and spices, just didn't do it for me.

Watching anything being handwoven is always impressive and I could quickly see why a finished scarf made from lotus thread could command an $80 price tag (just not from me). It takes two days of work for one person, just to get the thread ready for weaving. Who knew that inside the stalk of the lotus flower (like a waterlilly) contained a super strong fibre?

The surprises and delights just keep coming.

I take thee....

Make it stop. That's all I could think at 6am this morning in my little hotel room in Hsipaw, not far from the border with China.

Firstly, 'Burma Belly' had me curled up in the foetal position wishing for more pleasant times.

Secondly, it became apparent that Chinese weddings in this part of the world start early. Very early. There are lots of excited, happy, loud people who gather around waiting expectantly for the beautiful bride to appear.
All very lovely, had they not been congregated directly outside my groundfloor bedroom window....... for three hours.

I am in Shan state in the north-east of the country. Like many other parts of South-East Asia, Myanmar is experiencing life with the growing global power, influence and investment from China and feeling that some of their identity is slipping away.

Yesterday I enjoyed the opportunity to talk to a local guide as we did a four hour hike through some Shan villages. He gave me a great insight into their traditional way of life as we walked amongst the fields of soy beans, rice, corn, watermelon and cauliflower. I also learned more about 'The Lady' - the revered Aung San Suu Kyi, who still carries the hope of the nation.

Now I sit, sipping rehydration mix, listening to the hum of the generator and counting down the hours until my 15 hour bus ride to Inle Lake begins. Transport tests the hardiest of travellers here but other than a few key flight routes, there is little choice but to take the slow, old, challenging buses or trains.

This is an amazing country, but as an independant traveller, you have to work hard for it. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I am tempting fate and the internet gods by including a blurry wedding party picture with this blog. Unfortunately photos on the website won't be an option for a few weeks.

Myamnar - you had me at hello

I was entranced before the plane into Mandalay even landed. It was the sparkles of gold from every hilltop. The hundreds of gold pagodas and stupas shining through the dust haze beckoned me. I knew this was going to be special.

Myanmar feels like across between India, Bhutan and China - a cultural nirvana and a photographer's paradise.

Aside from some wonderful scenery, the people are making it memorable. Here's a few of my personal highlights so far.

- Random motorbike driver giving me a lift to my hotel (taxis are in short supply so lots of motorbikes carry an extra helmet - just in case they can make a few kyat (dollars).

- Spending whole of next day sightseeing with same random motorbike guy, starting at 5am for one of most beautiful sunrise settings I have ever seen. Trying to ignore the love songs he kept playing and singing after admitting he wanted a foreign wife. (I managed his expectations about my need for a Burmese husband!).

-Having disagreement and parting ways with same random motorbike guy. He did not take kindly to constructive feedback after we almost wiped out some people.

- Watching 1,200 monks eat a communal breakfast at 5.30am and being the only 'non-monk' there.

- Accepting kind invitation into the home of a young boy and his family (after they realised I was alone) and being treated to coffee and rice cakes.

- Sitting in the back of a collectivo (pick-up truck) for three hours and being adopted by a lady who took it upon herself to become my minder/toilet escort. Out of respect, I leaned forward every time she spat out her chewed betel-nut behind me. Thought it best for both of us.

-Posing for group photo with ten teenage boys who then each wanted an individual photo with me. I am very popular in Myanmar.

- Taking a horse and buggy around the bull-dust covered roads of the old royal capital.

It's only been four days but already so worthwhile.

Time travel

My few days back amongst the big city lights, air conditioned shopping centres, more decadence and food choices than in the past two months combined,  super-speedy internet connection and mass consumerism here in Bangkok, are coming to an end.                           

It's time to travel a little further off the beaten track to one of Thailand's less visited neighbours - Myanmar (Burma).

The long-standing tourism boycott was lifted in in 2010 and travellers are returning in droves to explore this culturally rich part of South-East Asia.​  Unfortunately, Myanmar's history of human rights abuses and economic sanctions by many countries creates an ethical dilemma for many when deciding if they should visit.  Like many, I questioned whether tourism will just support those currently in power or will have a positive impact and provide new opportunities for the people of Myanmar. ​ I have made the decision to  visit as an independent traveller and support small, non-Government operated businesses with the intention of getting a local perspective (as much as one can as a foreigner visitor). 

The dowdy, heavily-spiked Myanmar Embassy building may have looked out of place surrounded by the glitzy high-rises of Bangkok, but the long queue of people that I joined to wait for a visa were proof of the growing popularity of Myanmar as a travel destination. 

This place will be different - a step back in time to how travel used to be before technology changed the experience.  Myanmar has very limited/slow internet and their ATMs don't accept foreign cards - both crucial to the modern-day traveller.  Part of me is also excited about the freedom that this will bring - freedom to just enjoy the moment.   Without Facebook.

The currency of choice in Myanmar is US dollars (there is no other option) and the notes must be in pristine condition, ideally brand new, with no rips, no marks and no folds.  A fellow traveller in the visa queue told me to iron the notes and keep them flat - otherwise they won't be accepted on the black market.  In fact, the black market is the recommended place to change money into the local currency.  Even the guidebooks and websites all suggest the same thing - "don't change money at the bank".  

So the Wandering Hart blog will be a little quiet for a few weeks.  Once I return to good internet connection, I look forward to sharing some stories and images from what promises to be an amazing country and experience.

Stay tuned.​

Lady in red

I should have listened to the bike-rental-man who muttered something about "needing gears" to get to the waterfall.  It didn't really matter, I didn't get to the waterfall anyway.

Eager to see a few sights (before returning to the hammock), I started the hot, slow, five kilometre (uphill) ride to the waterfall but ended up at a Chinese Village, about five kilometres out of Pai.

And then I saw her.  Resplendent in red, traditional Chinese clothing, sitting on a horse, being led along a dirt path.   So of course I followed her.   It transpired that she was a TV star, filming a documentary, with the final dramatic scene at a Chinese castle/fort-like structure that just did not seem to belong.  ​Not wanting to look too obvious, I followed them, waving and taking photos.  After all, it's not often I get to mix with celebrities (and she just loved the adoration).  ​The Chinese Village was an amazing mix of traditional, gaudy and just plain interesting stuff.  And there was lots of very photogenic corn.

My celebrity red lady appeared again later that evening, filming at the market restaurant where I had dinner (no, I was not stalking them).  I went on to stare at my new celebrity friend, before being joined for a meal by a Thai Tourist Policeman of the non-corrupt variety.  He shared with me his disappointment about how little respect many travellers show for the Thai culture.  In his words "in your country, would the men eat in a restaurant with no shirt on"?  

Hard to argue with that.

Life of Pai

Life always looks good from a hammock. Particularly the kinky Thai plaited leather one on the deck of my modest bungalow. I suspect the hammock has other uses during the off-peak season....... but I digress.

After the haze and city noise of Chiang Mai, a mere three and a half hour minivan ride takes me to Pai (pronounced 'bye'). Lying in the kinky hammock surrounded by plants, the birds chirp, the breeze is slight and there's not a car or motorbike within earshot. There is a lady that watered the garden and dirt yesterday afternoon, giving the air that freshly-rained smell.  She also spent TWO WHOLE HOURS sweeping the grass, leaves and dirt this morning.  Outside my bungalow at 7.30am, were the two neatest piles of leaves I have ever seen.  

Pai is a hippy, artsy little town with a lovely, relaxed vibe on the Mae Peng river. It's full of hippy, artsy people, backpackers, cool cafes, bookshops and bars but I just don't have quite enough hair, beads or tattoos to really fit in.  Pai has a little something for everyone - you can do yoga, learn to kick-box, go trekking, do drugs, tube down the river and visit temples.  As I said, something for everyone.   I, however, am working on perfecting the art of eating, drinking, reading and just lazing about in my kinky hammock all day.  I'm getting really good at it.

Rumour has it there is a place you can visit at sunset and see 50,000 birds.  Sounds like something I'll be checking out later.

It's also a good place to get plucked (see last photo). Tempting as it was,  just couldn't bring myself to pluck an arm. Sounds like a slow painful process to me.

Rules (or lack thereof)

There are not many rules in South-East Asia and if they do exist, there always seems to be a way around them anyway.

Today I was lucky enough to witness Thai police at their corrupt best.   While on the way to some white water kayaking excitement, our minivan full of travellers from Pakistan, Switzerland, China and Australia (me) was pulled over to the side of the road for a 'random police check'.  We were a bit surprised when the minivan door was flung open and a very official-looking photographer with a really big camera took a quick photo of us all, then hurriedly closed the door.  Our driver and his license were taken away.  Feeling a bit like accomplices to a crime, we waited.  And then we waited some more.

Eventually our driver returned, with his official receipt stating that he had paid a fine of 10 Baht (about 30 cents).  In reality, he had paid 2,000 Baht ($67).  None of us (including the driver) were really sure what the fine was for, but we must have convinced the lovely policeman that we were not part of a human trafficking racket and were allowed to continue on our way to the river. 

Lack of rules is what draws many travellers to this part of the world.  There is a certain feeling of freedom about doing things that are "not allowed back home".  No bike helmets required, no seat belts necessary (very safe drivers evidently), totally fine to sit in the back of an open truck with the wind blowing in your hair - you can do pretty much anything. 

So we travellers shouldn't be surprised that waivers don't really mean much either.  In Cambodia, Laos and Thailand, you need to sign a waiver for any type of higher risk (i.e. anything fun) activity.  Roughly translated, they all read something like this:  "I am totally responsible for anything and everything that might happen to me including equipment malfunction, negligence by guides and acts of nature.  And I will pay all costs for fixing myself and any of your equipment that breaks, which will all be my fault regardless".   And so we sign.

That's the thing about rules - they work both ways.

Ready to rumble

it's Valentine's Day here in Chiang Mai, Thailand and when the truck driver with the very loud speakers advertising a Muay Thai kickboxing match went past yelling  "Are you ready to rumble?",  I thought to myself "No".  I'm ready for flowers.  Ready to photograph them, that is.

It seems the world is a small place when it comes to love and the commercialisation of 14th February.   Thailand is no exception and like many countries, the schoolboys buy fake red roses for their sweethearts and the schoolgirls giggle (after they post it on Facebook).

After the fourth consecutive Thai taxi driver today asked me if I was alone and replied with the same sad look and pitying "Ohhhhh"  each time I said yes, I did what any self-respecting solo traveller does on Valentine's Day evening.  I went to a temple, chatted with a Buddhist monk for two hours, got a deeper understanding of Buddhism.  This was followed by the sensation of agony, then total numbness in both legs during the meditation session.  Just lucky that "the mind is master" otherwise I would have REALLY been in pain.

Did you know that we each have 121 minds?   But that's for another blog......

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Jars, spoons and UXOs

Laos is the most bombed country in the world per capita.  Embarrassed about my ignorance of war history in this part of the world, I set out to the most bombed province in the country to learn more. And to see jars. Really big, old jars. And spoons.

In eastern Laos lies the ugly town of Phonsavanh - ugly for a good reason.  The town was decimated during US aerial bombing campaigns then completely rebuilt in 1975 - an era not known for its architectural splendour. It is, however, the gateway to the soon-to-be-declared UNESCO world heritage sites called Plain of Jars.

A sort of 'Asian Stonehenge', there are over 2,000 enormous stone jars, spread across multiple sites around Phonsavanh.  Estimated around 3,000 years old, there are varying theories about the purpose of the jars.  Archaeologists think they were used as funeral urns and dragged to the sites by elephants.  The more fun Lao legend theory is that they are giant whiskey vats and that the sites were a 'party central' zone for the spirits.  Whilst they are clearly made of very heavy rock, Lao legend also claims they are made from sand, buffalo skin and sugar cane. 

Before UNESCO would declare the sites world heritage, they had to be cleared of unexploded ordnance (UXO).  Between 1964 and 1973, during the conflict with Vietnam, more than two million tonnes of ordnance (bombs) was dropped on Laos.  That's roughly one planeload of bombs, every eight minutes, 24 hours a day for nine years.  30% failed to detonate on impact, so the country is still riddled with bombs yet to go off (which they do).  Each year, hundred of Lao villagers (many of whom are children) are killed or disabled after playing with or collecting the bombs for the highly-prized scrap metal dollars.

Clearing fields of UXOs is a dangerous and time-consuming task, but necessary to allow villages to live in safety.  Not normally one to stick to a marked track, I made an exception on this occasion - straying off the tracks = potential "kaboom".

But there is some good news.  One village is now funding its community by making spoons and bracelets out of aluminium and selling to people like me, who are now less ignorant about the horrors of war.