Looking up

After listening to the two camera-touting Texan tourists discussing what they were going to eat, I saw the waitress approach and could not help but look up.  

Tourists:  “we wanna a ham and cheese sandwich” - said loudly and slowly so that the fluent English-speaking Spanish waitress could understand. 

Waitress:  “Would you like Spanish ham?”

Tourists:  “no, we want REAL ham”.   

I am always surprised at the number of tourists that travel to countries with amazing cuisine, yet insist on eating exactly the same way they would at home without trying any of the local specialties.

Spain has more delicious, addictive, fresh and cured ham varieties than most people will try in a lifetime.  There are entire shops dedicated just to ham and if you ever get bored with eating the fantastic ice-cream and gelatos, you can buy a “ham cone”.  Yes really. 

Week two in Barcelona has involved a lot of looking up.  Much of the city’s incredible architecture is found up high and many of Gaudi’s well-known buildings need to be appreciated with an angled neck.  But it’s not just the famous sights - I have enjoyed looking up to see the wide blue skies and trees in the parks as well as the tiny balconies with intricate metal railings, the patriotic flying of the Spanish and Catalan flags, the hanging washing, the flower pots and the colourful shutters.  The myriad of narrow alleyways in my neighbourhood and the old part of town are becoming familiar and I no longer need to look up at the street signs to navigate my way back home.

Last night I was lucky enough to spend an evening looking up at an amazing six foot tall Cuban amazon woman, belting out incredible tunes with her 12-piece Spanish/Cuban jazz band.  The music on offer in this city continues to blow me away. 

Even when things start to look the same, sometimes it’s good to change the angle and see the world from a different perspective.  

Same, same but different

“Tu Spanglish es muy bueno” my Spanish teacher Carmen said to me today.  Translation:  “I can understand you, but you are making up some sort of weird Spanish/English grammar”.  It seems that taking a seven year break from learning and speaking a language (one I barely mastered the first time) has done me NO favours whatsoever.

I am trying hard to speak only Spanish, but when I start to get a little over-confident and string a few sentences together in a restaurant or shop, I am inevitably answered by someone speaking fluently at their normal pace (i.e. incredibly fast).  At that point, I unconsciously revert to my ‘stunned mullet’ look and they revert to speaking English. (Non-Australians - you will have to Google ‘stunned mullet’).  I am hopeful that two weeks of language classes will do something positive for my memory cells.

After just over a week, I have not yet tired of exploring this gorgeous city under clear, Mediterranean skies.  Although there are plenty of cities in Europe that have castles, beaches, beautiful architecture, parks and art, Barcelona is different.   It’s more than just a city - it’s a place that lives life and welcomes you into its fold.  It’s a feeling and it’s a vibe that is hard to capture in images but is shared by all those who visit.  It’s a feeling that is expressed through music - from street buskers to professional musicians and it’s everywhere.  It’s a feeling that I had tenfold when I was lucky enough to see a world-acclaimed Spanish classical guitarist performainside a small chapel in a century-old Basicila.  

A few days ago I was taking an unconventional route to Park Guell and was a bit disoriented after exiting the train station.  While standing there (again with the ‘stunned mullet’ look), I was immediately approached by a lady asking if she could help.  Without hesitation, she left her friends and walked with me until we got to a street where it would be less confusing to navigate from.  After not more than five minutes chatting in Spanglish, we were parting ways with a European double-kiss and a hug.  

Today, using my ‘stunned mullet’/smile combination, the assistant at an information booth started smiling and laughing when he saw me approach.  When I looked confused, he said (in English) - “sorry, you have such a beautiful smile”.

I love that total strangers in Spain can make me feel like I am instantly among friends.  

So Barcelona, you might just be another city, the same as many others, but you are so very, very different.

Just four doors down from me, I have taken a liking to this piece of colourful art (despite the graffiti).  The caption in blue in the middle says "Estoy solo" (I am solo).  

Time to pause

Two days ago I was thinking “Bloody hell, it’s a long way up these very steep five flights of stairs to my apartment”.  Today I am thinking “thank goodness for the stairs” (now known as the pastry/tapas/alcohol combat zone).  My self-discipline is facing its toughest challenge yet. 

It’s not often I get to a place where I am instantly smitten, but Barcelona is one of those places.  Wandering solo for several months straight is addictive and exciting but also gets a bit exhausting, so pausing will be a nice for a while.  It’s time to unpack for a few weeks, get familiar with a neighbourhood and immerse myself in a language and culture that I can partially understand. 

While Spain’s economy and employment levels are at depressing levels, it is not obvious as a visitor.  The place is buzzing with colour and zing with people that have a passion for life.  There are cafes tucked into every narrow alleyway, people playing opera music, beaches full of foreigners soaking up the sun, markets, buskers, beautiful art and gorgeous Gaudi architecture.  It’s not too big, not too small and with sunlight until nine p.m., the evenings are just perfect for strolling, indulging in tapas or sitting in a bar overlooking the nudist beach.  There are few inhibitions in Spain.  

Inner city Barcelona apartment living is so different from anything I have known, but already it is intoxicating and has me feeling like I belong.  My street is so narrow that I could almost pass a glass of vino to my neighbours.  With the intimate views into other people’s apartments, I quickly realised that I had better stop running around in my undies and do something about creating a curtain for my balcony glass door. 

I am a morning person but Barcelona is NOT a morning place, with most things not opening until ten a.m.  With a typical dining pattern being lunch at two p.m. then dinner about nine p.m., I need a sleep survival strategy. I have to have a plan to get me through until the evening - I think it is time to embrace the afternoon siesta. 

I could really get used to pausing.

In and Out

It had been a long couple of flights from Japan.  I thought the Brits would warmly welcome me in.  After all, I had lived here as a backpacking youngster.  How wrong could I be?

It had been so easy everywhere else to travel electronically and it felt good saving paper.  As I approached the immigration desk at London Heathrow, I expected it all to be straightforward - after all, this is one of the most developed countries I have visited.  It was NOT the time I wanted to turn on my mobile phone to show my e-ticket proof that I was leaving the country in a few days, only to find a completely flat mobile phone battery...........  

They did not buy that I was only staying in London for four days to see a friend and that I REALLY wanted to be in Spain, not London.  They did not buy that I could be self-employed with no fixed itinerary.  As I sat in the detention centre, awaiting my fate, with the other people who looked like they were asylum seekers, it felt a bit like being in a movie.  I did not belong.  After having fingerprints and photographs taken (mugshots) and a very invasive bag search that included reading through my journals, they let me in and made me feel very privileged that they had done so.  By that stage, I would have been happy if they had deported me.

​London did, however, give me a fantastic few days of reliving memories, new sights, live entertainment, good food and great company - although a 14 degree 'summer' day will always be a bit of an oxymoron.  Like me, London has matured.  It is a modern, vibrant, cosmopolitan city, mixed with fascinating history and full of accents from all over the world.

Hopefully getting out will be easier. 

Lost for words

It is not like me to be lost for words and in my mind I had planned exactly what this blog was going to be about.  But then I met him and now I am lost for words.

For the past two days, I have been in Koya-san, a very special UNESCO World Heritage Site town nestled amongst eight low mountain peaks, only a couple of hours from Osaka.  The area was  founded about twelve centuries ago by a Buddhist monk whose wish was to establish a monastery deep in the mountains, far from worldly distractions. 

I had planned to describe the experience I had at 5.30am on the first morning, walking through the Okunoin cemetery and sacred area, set amongst huge cedar trees and filled with over 2,000 moss-covered gravestones.  It filled me with awe to enter such a special area as I made my way to the huge, lantern-filled mausoleum hall to watch the monks going through their chanting and rituals.

I had planned to write about Jukai - a very moving and ancient ceremony dating back over 2,500 years and conducted by a fully ordained Buddhist master.  It allows laypeople (like me) to be given the Buddhist precepts (rules) for living a wholesome and virtuous life.  Picture a small, dark temple room, a few candles providing just enough light to silhouette the master monk, me sitting on the floor, chanting (in Japanese) with an assistant monk and being called up to the alter to be presented with a small record document.  

I had planned to say more about my overnight stay in a Shukubo (temple lodging).  Of the 117 temples in Koya-san, 52 offer lodging and meals to pilgrims - a tradition started long ago.  Even with the animated group of Italian visitors (particularly Marco and Gianni who seemed to keep getting lost and discussing their next moves while standing outside my rice-paper thin doors),  it was a special experience staying in a working temple.  Besides, where else can you sit on the floor in your room, in your bathrobe, sipping sake and eating Shojin Ryori, a delicious Buddhist vegan meal with lashings of tofu. 

I had planned to describe this morning’s ceremony in the meditation hall, where I sat, mesmerised by the monks chanting sutras while the flames from the blessing ceremony flickered in the background. 

But as I was leaving, I met him - a Swiss Buddhist priest who has been living in that very  temple in Koya-san for the past 16 years.  As we talked for the next couple of hours, he remembered.  We had met at a bakery in Laos, with a random comment about my leaving Luang Prabang to travel to Myanmar.  I had no idea he was a monk and no idea we would meet again, in his temple. 

And so, as I prepare to leave Japan, I am lost for words - lost as to how I could possibly describe the contrasts and wonder of this country.

The travel gallery will hopefully convey more of what my words cannot:

www.wanderinghart.net/Japan

Temple grounds

​My delicious vegetarian temple feast.

Hard to forget

A little tear started welling and I could feel a lump in my throat.  After two days hiking completely alone, I was only 400 metres from the spiritual crescendo of the trail. 

I had been on the beautiful and spiritual World Heritage listed Kumano Kodo pilgrimage trail ​in the Kii Mountains and felt proud to have walked where devotees for centuries before me had come to perform their purification rites at the many shrines along the way.  I had come across only four other people over two days so it had been an intensely spiritual and personal experience......... until I got to the sacred Kumano Hongu Taisha temple.  Damn, damn, damn - there they were - the tour buses full of visitors who had come to pay homage.  

They will never know how it feels to walk in solitude under intensely blue skies, among huge forests of Cypress pines, to smell the freshest of air, to climb up to the stone steps to the tops of mountains, to see the hawks circling above, to hear nothing but the sound of birds and the crystal clear, running river.  They may never know, but I will never forget. ​

It will be hard to forget my gorgeous Japanese hosts at a 150 year old guesthouse on the first night.  Midori ("green, like the drink" she told me), Odaki and I shard some hilarious conversations with our ten common words of Japenglish.​  The call at 5.30am of "Blekfist, blekfist" (breakfast) to enjoy a protein fix of tofu, fish and eggs before hitting the trail, will forever be etched in my mind.

It will be hard to forget the delight of soaking my weary body in a thermal pool each night, watching the locals boiling eggs in the special 'cooking bath' and sitting in a flowing river where the natural thermal heats comes through the riverbank.

It will be hard to forget this whole region, which is an intensely beautiful, natural part of Japan and only just being discovered by those in search of something outside of the cities and usual cultural meccas.​

For so many reasons, this special part of the world will be hard for me to forget.

​My guesthouse bedroom - traditional Japanese style.

The public bath where locals would put their bags of eggs to boil.​

The ancient onsen town of Yunomine.​

Getting wet

As I stared at the tiny, weeny towel the size of a large facecloth, I knew it was not the time to be embarassed about getting nude with strangers. I was about to be initiated into the Japanese tradition of the onsen  (stick with me to the end of the blog).

I continue to be amazed in this country that you can be in a major city one minute and the next, walking in beautiful woodlands, alongside waterfalls, temples and shrines.  Sometimes all within a 500 metre radius.   The day before I had found myself completely alone in a cave, with hundreds of lanterns, incense and buddha statues - unforgettable. 

A slow ferry across the Seto Inland Sea has now taken me to the city of Matsumaya on the island of Shikoku.  The island is famed across Japan for its age-old 1,300 km pilgrimage circuit - the 88 Sacred Temples of Shikoku and I today came across several pilgrims (dressed distinctively in white with a straw hat) on their own journey of enlightenment. 

​In addition, Matsuyama is home to the famous Dogo Onsen - the oldest hot water spring in Japan, housed in an incredibly beautiful building.   Who knew there were so many rules and such a process involved in having a bath?  I was bound to get it wrong (luckily males and females are segregated!).  

I did OK with putting my shoes in a locker.  I did OK getting to the sitting room and being presented with a yakata (bathrobe).  Then I got a bit confused.  Found my way to the correct bath area and discreetly tried to watch what all the other completely naked Japanese women were doing with the various buckets and stools, without looking like I was perving.  I managed to do the pre-cleansing OK, but missed the crucial step - GET INTO THE HOT BATH!!!   Luckily a couple of ladies were onto me and steered me in the right direction.  

Second mistake - I was supposed to have left my clothes in the sitting room, in a designated seating position.   As I sipped my tea and wafer, from someone else's cushion, the warmth and healing power of the spa water washed over me and I felt an overwhelming sense of calm.

No-one told me that getting wet would be such a wonderful experience.  It was my first, but certainly not my last onsen.  One will never be enough!  

Dogo Hot Spring building

​A pilgrim on the trail

Peace and chaos

The local train trip may have taken three times longer than the bullet train and required four platform changes, but it was good to slow down and smell the roses.  Well, actually it was to save $60.   I am traveling in Japan with champagne taste on a beer budget and it’s not pretty.   Thank goodness I got my zen back. 

But having gotten used to the quiet, I am now missing the moments of random chaos that provided such colour and zing in South-East Asia.  Here is a country where the trains run like clockwork, people are polite and everyone is so totally compliant to the many rules and signs.  It makes for very easy travelling, but is just a bit too predictable. Even the schoolkids are well behaved!  Yesterday I felt the need to be wild ..... so I jaywalked.  I am SUCH a rebel sometimes.  

I’ve travelled further south to Hiroshima, a very likeable, walkable, cosmopolitan port city, etched in history after its decimation by a single atomic bomb in 1945 that killed about 140,000 people. The fact that the city has been rebuilt to its current state, is a true testament to that same organisation, compliance and determination of its people. 

It was a sombre, educational and quite moving experience to walk around the A-bomb hypocentre site as it now stands.  Peace Park, the monuments, memorial hall, atomic bomb dome and museum provided a very balanced view of what happened, with the overwhelming theme of peace and global nuclear disarmament.

I was amazed by the fact that successive mayors of Hiroshima have sent letters of protest in response to every nuclear test, by any country, since 1968.  Each time a letter is sent, the mayor hopes it will be the last - such is the wish of the Japanese people to ensure such horror is never repeated with future generations.  Sadly, the letters have continued.

Maybe the combination of zen, world peace and random chaos is just too much to expect. 

​Atomic dome today.

​Museum photo of the widespread decimation.  Atomic dome was one of the few things still standing.

​Paper cranes - a symbol of peace.

​Compliant (and oh so cute) children.

​Rules and instructions can come in handy!

Zen

There was something about the smell of the timber in the century-old temple that took me to another place.  And as I sat in silence, the feeling returned - I had missed it.  

After several weeks straight of active travel, the beautiful, zen-like feeling that I had gotten so used to in Laos, Myanmar and Thailand had all but disappeared.  I needed a Buddhist temple fix - to be immersed in a place of peace and calm, to bring life back to what is really important.

Luckily I am in Kyoto, the cultural capital of Japan where the challenge here has been to narrow down which of the 17 UNESCO World Heritage listed temples, shrines and castles to visit.  And that's just around the city.  It's like being in a living coffee-table book, full of images of Japan's simplicity and beauty. 

This morning, still feeling zen-like, I got up early to visit one of the very popular temples to enjoy some solitude before the crowds arrived.  Good morning 200 teenage schoolchildren on a school excursion!  No amount of zen was ever going to make that beautiful moss-covered hillside tranquil today.

Kyoto is a place of such stark contrasts where yesterday took me from the Shinkansen (bullet train), travelling at breakneck speed, to walking on a busy city street, to sitting in complete silence in a temple beneath the biggest timber beams I have ever seen.  Across the road I indulged in a shiatzu massage, then visited a department store full of mass consumerism on the largest scale.  Something for everyone.

Only fifteen minutes away by bus today, the ancient wisdom oozed as I walked the Path of Philosophy, surrounded by trees, water and frogs that chirped. Later in the morning, my wish was granted and solitude came while at a hillside shrine.  It's easy to forget that the city streets are so close.

Sometimes the zen is just around the corner and appears when you least expect it.  

Chances of having Ginkakuji temple to myself - NIL!

Sounds of silence

The silence hit me like a steam train on my first night in Japan.  I could not sleep - it was too quiet.  Where was all the noise? 

After so much time in Asia and without even noticing it, I had become accustomed to noise at every hour of the day.  Where were all the horns, roosters, motorbikes, dogs, karaoke singers and street sounds?  I just wasn't prepared for how quiet, clean, punctual and organised Japan would be in comparison. 

How is it that Japan is the only country that has embraced the toilet with built-in control panel?   After being converted to a heated toilet seat on my first night, it has just gotten better and better.  An ordinary public toilet experience today came complete with the following built-in options to enhance the whole experience:  heated seat, bidet, spray option, auto flush, toilet seat cleaner, power deodoriser AND a sound effect that mimics a waterfall.  Saves embarrassment and lessens the stage fright when toilet sounds break the silence or there is an audience in the queue.  I have now seen the light and may never be able to pee with anything less.

The small parts of Tokyo and Yokohama that I have visited so far have been an eclectic and exciting blend of sights but feel like a mere scratch on the surface of this enormous metropolis.   It has included narrow streets full of designer boutiques, port side action, noodle-slurping delights, witnessing a traditional wedding at a shrine and the full train commuter experience.  I considered leaving a trail of breadcrumbs as I left one station - it was big enough to house a small town, with 13 separate exits.

​My rockstar status has completely disappeared.  No-one has asked to have their photo taken with me, no-one is staring at me anymore and they insist on having full conversations with me in Japanese (I can't understand a thing but I'm good at nodding and smiling).

When  a tiny, older Japanese lady asked ME for directions in one of the gardens I visited, I knew I was no longer the novelty foreigner and had blended in as a local (understandable after four days).  

Strangely enough, I was actually able to point her in the right direction, but my laughter broke the silence as she wandered far enough away not to hear.  

​Yokohama port

Too close

It could have been me.  Wind back the clock one week and it could have been me.​

​This short post is dedicated to the four German climbers and their Filipino guide who were killed climbing Mt Mayon on Tuesday 7 May.

As my plane took off back to Manila, flying past the perfect cone that had erupted just two hours earlier, I was thrilled to see nature in action - at that stage, totally unaware of the fate of those total strangers.

There are always risks in life and nothing special comes without some level of risk. When nature decides to unleash its fury, you can never, ever be prepared.

It could have been me.

May those unknown kindred souls rest on nature's mountain in the sky.​

​The day before Tueday's eruption - at the Cagsawa Ruins where Mayon's 1814 eruption had caused devastation.

​From the plane as I safely flew past, unaware of the loss of life.

​From the slopes of Mt Mayon - a symbol of how fragile life can be.

Surprises

I love surprises.  For a country that was never high on my radar to visit, this small part of the Philippines has been a surprise package of wonderful. 

The Bicol region is a laid-back provincial region with so much to offer.  From volcanoes, whale sharks and fireflies to fields of rice, bananas and coconut palms, churches, beaches, street games with bottle tops and random religious street processions, there was something surprising about every day.

With national elections looming less than a week away, everywhere from Manila to the smallest village has been awash with posters of aspiring mayors, vice-mayors, councillors and congressmen.  The build-up is reaching fever pitch and the atmosphere almost party-like when the official election jeepneys visit, handing out sweets to the children in the villages.  After assuring Teddy De G. that he had my full support, I too got some sweets. 

The Filipino people have been some of the most honest, polite, friendly and welcoming of anywhere I've been.  There is no special treatment for tourists, no banana pancakes on any menu and a refreshing change to pay the same price as the locals.  A smile has gone a long way here and always quickly returned.  Note to self - if you tell a few people in a small town your name, word gets around quickly.  After four days in one small town, I finally got used to hearing "Hello Miss Leanne" and "Good morning ma'am" as I walked past.  Weird and disconcerting but also very amusing.​

Almost as amusing as staying in a 'resort' where I was the only guest, with the delightful full-time staff and on-the-job trainees outnumbering me 18 to 1.  Customer service was excellent and I was treated like a queen - but I would expect nothing less from a place where the manager is called Sunshine (I suspect not his given name).

Sitting in a jeepney this morning, humming to Kylie Minogue's "Locomotion" playing on the stereo, I smiled as I remembered this saying:  "There are angels whose job it is to make sure we don't fall asleep and miss life".

My angels must be working overtime.​

Close encounter of the ocean kind

On the outside, I gasped into my snorkel at the pure majesty of what was below me.  On the inside, I screamed with delight.  I was swimming on top of an eight metre whale shark (Butanding), the largest fish in the ocean.

The bay off the tiny coastal fishing town of Donsol is home to schools of whale sharks and is a great place to interact with these creatures during their migratory period when they gorge themselves on the concentrated food supply.  Unfortunately this year has been a terrible season for sightings due to the water temperature and the lack of plankton, their sole source of food.

My expectations had been managed and I knew chances of sightings were slim and swimming with one, even slimmer.  Even during this peak season, there had been many days without a single sighting.

Each whale sharking boat takes a maximum of six people only and each boat has a dedicated spotter, whose job it is to look for the discoloured patch in the water indicating the presence of a whale shark.   It's got me completely beat how they could see anything under the water without polarised sunglasses, but these are highly experienced experts.​

Up to fifteen boats are out cruising at one time, all keen for the elusive sighting and interaction.  Thankfully there are lots of rules to protect the whale sharks - no touching, no diving underneath ​and stay behind the fins (not near its mouth).

We had been cruising for three hours with no sighting and then...... it all happened so quickly and there was no time for photos.  The Butanding was sighted, the boat pulled in to the general vicinity and our BIO (Butanding Interaction Officer) was shouting at us to be ready to jump in.  Everyone else on my boat was a non-swimmer and messing about with life vests.  Before I knew it, our BIO had grabbed my hand and we were in the water.​

Somehow (and I still don't know how it happened with all the other people in the water), we ended up alone with the whale shark - just the two of us, swimming madly to keep up with it (they are fast).  Just hovering above, I was in disbelief that I was so close to such a prehistoric looking and truly magnificent creature of the sea.  We stayed with it until it started to dive deeper and with low visibility, it soon disappeared into the depths.

It was just a single Butanding but it had given me one of the most unforgettable ten minutes of my life.

Whale sharking boat

The spotter in action

Not my photo, but this is what it was like (I wore snorkel, mask and flippers)..  Photo from   http://ds-lands.com

The perfect cone

The temperature was in the high 30's, the humidity felt like 90%, I was carrying three litres of water, was absolutely drenched and a bit muddy.  And it was only seven a.m.

Meet Mt Mayon (2,462m) - a beautiful, perfectly cone-shaped active volcano, not far from Legazpi on the Bicol Peninsula.  I could not let this one escape - it was way too alluring and too perfect to just look at and hadn't erupted since 2009.

The guiding company driver excitedly told me on the drive to the start that "you are the first female on her own to trek on the mountain with our company".  Once I realised I was 'special' and got over the fact that the temperature alone was going to keep me 'trekking ugly' all day,  I settled in and enjoyed the company of not one, but two great guides who accompanied me up one of nature's finest. 

The spectacular views did not come without effort and reminded my thigh and butt muscles that they can not yet retire into a life of cafe living.  A few hours of very narrow, muddy, winding, heavily forested tracks requiring lots of big step ups and we reached the start of the lava flow.  This was my favourite bit and we all continued up the smooth rock until about the 1,500m mark.   I had planned to go on only to the 1,800m mark, aptly name 'End of the Road', but didn't quite make it (after that, oxygen masks are required to avoid the effects of the sulphurous gases).

By 1,500m, the dehydration and heat had got the better of me, so we all just sat on the lava, took in the sensational scenery and just enjoyed being alive before the return trip back down.  The complete lack of rubbish is a great indication of the pride that the locals have in their mountain and protecting this pristine environment - unlike much of the world.

A tough day, but so very satisfying to spend it surrounded by perfection. 

​Mt Mayon viewed from Legazpi harbour.

The chicken

Today I learnt an important lesson and it came in the form of a chicken.  

I am on the Bicol Peninsula, in Southeast Luzon and was despondent after my first three days in the Philippines just hadn't gone to plan.  Unable to find a guide to take me up the dormant volcano of Mt Isarog (1966m), inspiration was lacking and I couldn't find anything photogenic, interesting or colourful.

The hotel suggested I should go to the Watersports complex, 10km out of town and billed as the 'best cable park in the world'.  For someone in search of a real Filipino experience, I could think of nothing worse.  It was up there with the shopping mall on my list of places to avoid.  But, while it was not the experience I had in mind, it is still the real deal and definitely not generally on the foreign tourist trail.  I begrudgingly relented and went (but only because I could go by local bus and then tricycle).

It was then that the chicken appeared. It was on the local bus, seated opposite me, next to its owner.  No-one else batted an eyelid, but I had to keep looking out the window so the other passengers couldn't see me grinning.  That chicken made my day. 

I am not too proud to admit that I enjoyed the water park experience and guess what, the clouds opened up and there was an uninterrupted view of that beautiful (albeit unattainable) volcano. So the lesson for me - when travelling, it's not WHAT I see that's important, but HOW I choose to look at it.  ​

​Sometimes you can't sit back and wait for the magic to come to you without a little bit of effort. 

On the buses

Despite its reputation, I was determined that there would be something interesting  and inspiring for me to find in Manila and that it should be given a fair chance to shine.

The plan was simple - start early to visit one of the well-know historic areas, after quickly organising a bus ticket to Naga, my next destination.   That was my first mistake.  There is nothing quick about organising a bus ticket in Manila.

It seems that tickets can only be bought, well in advance, directly from the bus station.    Luckily the bus station was only a short one-hour taxi ride away from my hotel (one-way).  After the short one-hour return trip, I lost all heart to look at things historic in the heat of the day.  Better to save my energy for the trip back (again) to the bus station later for the overnight jaunt.

As much as I wanted to explore on foot, Manila is not that kind of place.  It is incredibly spread out and is really a combination of small cities, rather than having one main city centre.  

There were, however, two things that I liked.  The first was Jeepneys - a sort of funky car/bus/truck-type vehicle that transport people all over the city.   The second was the symmetry of some buildings that caught my eye.  I'm a bit weird like that. 

The day wasn't a total write-off - it's amazing how escaping from reality watching the latest release IronMan 3 movie, on the biggest screen I have ever seen, can reinvigorate the soul.  

Bring on the 11 hour deluxe bus ride!​

Moving on

With only three days left in Vietnam, I will admit it.  This place got under my skin more than I ever anticipated - in the best possible way.​

During my one month visit, there have been so many surprising aspects to this safe, easy and very enjoyable travel destination.  In addition to the images below, there were two things that struck me personally during my travels.

People -  It is easy to be sceptical and assume that everyone wants something from you as a tourist but I was touched by so much genuine friendliness and kindness on so many occasions.  Sure, there are always people who will want your tourist dollar, but at the end of the day, they are people too, who are just trying to make a living and provide for their families in a tough environment.

Resilience - the ability of this country to bounce back and prosper after multiple wars and to genuinely welcome travellers from all countries, despite history.

So it is time again for me to move on - another destination awaits discovery.  My next blog will be from somewhere in the Philippines - a country I originally had no intention of visiting. 

But that's the great thing about travelling without a plan. 

​Ca Phe (Coffee) - the start of a love affair.   Hot, strong and drip filtered over a layer of condensed milk.  Sooo good with a fresh baguette and best drunk when sitting on a tiny little red chair.

​Motorbikes - everywhere.  Love 'em or hate 'em, they are an integral part of the Vietnamese landscape, both city and country.  Travelling for seven days on a bike through the central highlands was an absolute highlight.

​The blend of old and new.  Historic tombs, temples and gates co-existing with modern development.

Natural beauty - in abundance and often where you least expect it.​

​Fresh produce and the people who sell it - the markets are some of the most appealing in Asia.

The quirky - ​always in search of quirky, I was delighted to find that special place where serviettes go to dry.

Waterfalling

Yesterday ended with a waterfall visit.  Today started with a different waterfall visit, to the mighty Dray Nur.  Today ended with water and falling...... but more about that later.​

Days five and six have been uncomfortably hot and combined with the busier roads, drier landscape and more built-up areas, have been less inspiring than the first three.​  To top that off,  my hotel room last night was next to a room full of the WORST karaoke singers I have EVER heard (and I've been hearing quite a few in Vietnam).

But there are always the gems that make it worthwhile - like the spectacular waterfalls hidden away in the most unlikely places, which most travellers don't get the fortune to see (unless you are touring by motorbike and can read Vietnamese).  While soaking my hot feet at the top of a waterfall yesterday, I could feel something staring at me and looked up to see an elephant.  Yes, an elephant.  It wasn't completely wild, but it was one of those priceless moments. 

We were nearing the end of day today when it hit.  The storm was fast approaching across the rice paddies, but we were unprepared for the ferocious wind that made it almost impossible to control the bike on the most unprotected stretch of road we had been on in six days.  

As Lee fought violently to keep the bike upright, we ran into a herd of water buffalo on the road.  Of course.  Then came the water (it chose that moment to bucket down) and then came the falling (us and the bike).  No damage to man, bike or beast, but it was the hardest I laughed all day - not quite sure what that says about me!

Ah, some days are like masterpieces and others are rough drafts, but all part of the colourful art of travelling.​

Getting comfortable

Sitting at the front, in control of a motorbike, I would be extremely nervous.  Sitting at the back, behind my trusty driver Lee, I have been getting very comfortable.

So much so that over the 200km covered today, including two hours of 'experiencing' roadworks up close and personal, I found myself drifting away and forgetting where I was.  Vietnam is so diverse in its people, scenery and cultures - it doesn't come any more 'real' than this.  With few western travellers out this way, it is a truly authentic experience.

The scenery may have been less spectacular today, but between the roadworks, small towns, lovely lake, coffee, cashew nut, pepper, rubber and avocado plantations, one of my favourite moments took place when we stopped.   The roadside cafes are usually home to tiny little red chairs and tables - perfectly comfortable if you are a tiny little person.  Even as a relative shortie, the little red chairs still make me feel like my knees are up around my ears.  But today, I got really comfortable in a cafe full of hammocks and drifted away while sipping on a fresh coconut,  listening to the trucks roar past in the background.  Until the baby chickens brushed by my feet and brought me back to reality.

After four days of motorbike touring, I almost don't hear the horns anymore.  Almost.  Particularly the buses that drive within touching distance of the motorbike, then give a friendly, extended honk of the horn 'just to let you know they are there'.

I almost don't hear them.  Must be getting too comfortable.

Riding Easy

They were everywhere, surrounding me and I could barely get air.​

They were in a village, somewhere in the central highlands of Vietnam.  They were schoolchildren, about 30 of them in total - all eager to have their photo taken, to view it on the digital camera screen, to squeal with delight.  They did not care if I was crushed in the process.  I could not get the grin off my face.​

​It's the end of day two of my seven day motorbike tour from Hue to Dalat.  As a passenger sitting behind a very safe and experienced local rider, it's all about sitting back, enjoying the fresh air and taking in the scenery.   Even the mist and rain has not spoilt the experience - it's nothing that a few plastic bags and a purple poncho won't fix.

​Once you move away from the built-up areas, it becomes a overload of green.  From the high coastal passes and into the highlands, it is green, green, green.  If I was ever in doubt that Vietnam still has huge areas of untouched natural environment, this trip has proved otherwise.  Having already seen the hillside US army base remains outside Danang, a traditional ethnic community village hall, the Ho Chi Minh Trail and a couple of hydroelectric dams, in addition to the natural scenery, I am being visually spoilt.

It should be compulsory to tour Vietnam by motorbike - I can't think of a better way to experience the spectacular coastline, jungle-clad mountains, rivers, villages, pineapple picking, tea and rice plantations and of course, the people along the way.