Friday 25 November 2016

CYCLE TOURING CHINA (3) - BEIJING TO SHANGHAI

 


CHINA (3) - BEIJING TO SHANGHAI
1003 Kilometres – 25 Days
26 October – 23 November 2016


25 October – Mong Cai, Vietnam – Qinzhou, China – 100 km

Once checked out of Vietnam, I headed towards my new destination. It took walking the bike through the passenger terminal in the company of what felt like the entire Vietnamese and Chinese population, all wanting to lend a hand. The Chinese immigration loomed ahead, and I felt as out of place as an orangutan on the streets of Cape Town. Locating the immigration office was challenging enough as I couldn’t read the Chinese script and didn’t speak the language.

Exiting the building, I was immediately transferred into a foreign country and a world of unprecedented bombardment of the senses. The immigration officers could either not read the Latin alphabet or something was wrong with the passport. He continuously peered at me and then at the passport, held it up to the light, and inspected it from all sides. Maybe they’ve never seen anyone from “Nanfei”, or they thought all Africans were black. It took forever, but eventually, the passport was returned, and I was waved through.

My first stop was the ATM in the daunting border town of Dongxing, where I drew 4,000 Chinese yuan and then searched for a mobile phone shop to buy a SIM card. I was observed in silence while staff nervously reached for their phones. I could just as well have landed from Mars. Unfortunately, a SIM card was only available at the main office, and I was escorted there by one of the ladies, resulting in it being 11h00 before getting underway with money in my wallet and a SIM card in my phone. Two things that always made me feel more secure.

My route headed in the direction of Qinzhou, a reasonably substantial city. Once on the outskirts of vast and sprawling Dongxing, I veered off onto a minor road and could breathe a sigh of relief as it turned out a delightful cycle past rice fields with little traffic. Although considerably slower and a place where the road signs were useless to me, the countryside made for pleasurable riding past, understandably, surprised-looking villagers.

As the weather came in, I cycled through huge cities, which seemed to go on forever. The towns all appeared intimidating from a distance but straightforward to get through, as they were new and well-planned. The hours’ time difference was welcomed, but it also meant the time was six o’clock instead of five, and being winter, it got dark early. Finally, in the dying moments of the day, I rolled into Qinzhou. I opted for the first available accommodation, and what a posh place it was. The price was almost double what I typically paid. Still, the establishment was new and fancy, and I needed a break from the madness. Naturally, food was first on my mind, after which I tried doing laundry in a hand basin, clearly not designed for doing laundry. Still, the fact they had a drying rack right under the aircon unit was a bonus.

 

26 October - Qinzhou – Nanning – 127 km

The room rate included complimentary breakfast, a fascinating affair. Heaps of stir-fried veggies, chilli, boiled eggs, and soy milk was at the order of the day. Then, with a belly full of Chinese food and enough heartburn to make me feel like the fire-breathing dragon, I searched for a route to Nanning.

Getting underway was relatively effortless, but soon the dreaded roadworks re-appeared and slowed the going through potholes and muddy ponds. It didn’t take long before the bike and I were covered in mud. One couldn’t do a great deal about the potholes but try to avoid the worst of it while staying out of harm’s way.

Fortunately, all things come to an end, and I soon cleared the construction area. Although picturesque, these old villages were abandoned as the occupants were moved to the city to alleviate poverty (which it did). Cycling into Nanning was quite a mission as not merely was it home to 7.1 million people, but it sported massive highways, flyovers and roadworks.

People stopped to snatch a few pics; others hung out car windows mobile phone in hand. Covered in mud, I must’ve looked quite a sight. It took forever to get to the city centre and, halfway, my GPS stopped working. Aargh! Eventually, I arrived at the hostel, conveniently situated in the city centre, but on the third floor. I was in no mood for schlepping panniers upstairs. Still, following a few huffs and puffs, I was comfortably nestled in a cosy room.

 

27-28 October - Nanning

I’d planned to do a considerable amount, but somehow nothing got done. From Nanning, it made sense to take a train to Beijing and cycle south to Xiamen, where I left off last time.

Armed with a note from the hostel about where and when I wanted to take the train, I ambled to the train station. Like virtually all places in China, the station was a large, bustling place but, eventually, I’d a ticket. Regrettably, only top bunks were available, which all warned to avoid.

Once all was done, a bus took me to Yangmei, an ancient village on the outskirts of Nanning. The bus ride took an hour and a half for the 25 kilometres, giving an idea of the condition and steepness of the road.

The village is famed for its well-preserved ancient architecture of the Ming (1368-1644) and Qing (1644-1911) dynasties. Founded during the Song Dynasty (970-1279), Yangmei was firstly named Baihua (literally all sorts of flowers) because of the many flowers that grew in the area.

I wandered around for an hour or so, and as the last bus to Nanning was at 4:30 p.m., I soon returned to the bus station.

 

29-30 October – Nanning – Beijing – By train

The following morning, I saddled up and pedalled the short distance to the train station. Fortunately, I already had my ticket as all trains were full, albeit six a day. Getting the bicycle booked in was a relatively painless affair. The baggage area was in the next-door building, where the bike and bags were weighed. I was warned the bicycle and I might not arrive simultaneously. I thus rearranged my panniers, keeping in mind the bike and panniers may arrive a day or two later. I paid almost the same for the cycle and panniers as for myself.

Like practically all trains, the train bunks were stacked three high, the top bunk having no window and truly little headroom. As passengers were lying down, few places were available to sit, apart from two foldout chairs and a little table in the passage. The result was one was very much in the public eye. Not only did everyone in the vicinity want a selfie with the foreigner, but people also came from the other coaches to witness what must’ve been a rare event. In the end, I climbed onto my bunk, to give myself a break from the ongoing photoshoot.

The snack trolley came around at regular intervals, loaded with cup noodles and other popular Chinese snacks. The urn at the end of the coach was in high demand. However, all was well organised. Each bunk had a set of snow-white linen, and cleaning staff came around regularly, mopping and sweeping the passage.

The following day went by uneventfully as we chugged our way past beautiful scenery, flying past way too quickly to my liking. Finally, we reached Beijing shortly after 5 p.m. and in darkness. I slept well as the train ran smoothly, and I barely knew I was in a moving vehicle.

My bicycle wasn’t on the same train (as predicted), and I searched for nearby accommodation. I walked and walked but couldn’t find any at a reasonable price, and to my frustration, the cheapies didn’t allow foreigners. Worse was it wasn’t the central train station as foreseen. Instead, the train stopped at Beijing West, ten kilometres west of my intended destination.

In the process, I realised Beijing was an expensive mega-city, easily on par with Europe and America. In the end, I opted for a taxi ride to the hostel I’d in mind. The first two taxis wanted 200 yuan, which I thought was a tad steep and returned to the taxi stand at the station, where a taxi was 50 yuan. Even a bed in a dorm was more than I typically paid for a room. I further came to the shocking realisation October was already too late in the season for this part of the world. Cold in my skimpy clothes, I was ill-suited for the October climate in Beijing. Fortunately, the building was heated, and I slept well.

 

31 October – 2 November – Beijing

My priorities changed, and I set out to search for cold-weather gear. Teeth chattering, I located The North Face and requested the warmest jacket they had in store. Thank goodness for a translating app.

An unpleasant surprise awaited when I wanted to pay as both cards were declined. I was in utter shock and hurriedly returned to the hostel, where I contacted the bank. The verdict was I’d incorrectly entered my pin too many times. Weird, as I knew the number by heart. The result was the card was blocked, and to make a long story short, it couldn’t be rectified. However, the debit card still worked. So, all I needed was to inform the bank of my new location. Afterwards, I headed towards the train station to collect the bicycle and panniers.

Returning, I managed a frozen half-smile as I realised I was biking in Beijing with 23 million people. I felt small as I biked past the famous or infamous Tiananmen Square. Marvellous, absolutely marvellous! I ducked and dived through the traffic and, once at the hostel, re-tried the debit card. At least this time, it spat out enough money to purchase the costly goose down jacket. With cash in my wallet and a warm jacket on my back, I breathed a sigh of relief, and for the first time in 24 hours, I felt relaxed despite the frigid conditions. Donning my new jacket and gloves, I grabbed the camera. My walkabout took me past the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. I passed busy Beijingers in thick coats and gloves rushing off to work and felt privileged to be in this remarkable city.

 

3 November – Beijing – Anpingzhen – 80 km

In the morning, I cycled out of Beijing. I’d all the warm clothes I could wear, from a beanie to gloves and from a down jacket to thermal underwear. Leaving Beijing (like any big city) wasn’t an exciting affair, but the town boasted wide cycle lanes along most streets. The idea was to follow the ancient Grand Canal of China. I, therefore, continued in the direction of the “start” of the canal at Tongzhou Canal Park.

The Grand Canal is a substantial waterway system running between Beijing and Hangzhou 1300 kilometres further south. Constructed in the fifth century BC, it created the world’s most extensive engineering project prior to the Industrial Revolution. By the 13th century, it consisted of more than 2000 kilometres of artificial waterways, far surpassing the Suez and Panama Canals. The canal was placed on the UNESCO’s World Heritage List in 2014. Although I didn’t think one could cycle right next to the canal, I wanted to give it a try in the hope of uncovering fascinating historical titbits.

Thirty kilometres of riding brought me to the official start/finish, from where a comfortable cycle path followed the canal for a few kilometres. The air pollution was terrible, and one could barely see anything. The air quality was so poor I could scarcely breathe and suffered a blocked nose despite using a nasal spray. I was seriously considering a face mask like almost all Chinese wore. I was sure it would merely be a matter of time until a lung infection set in. Due to my late departure and ambling, I only went 80 kilometres before calling it a day. Being winter, the sun set around 17h00, and I didn’t want to push my luck too far.

 

4 November – Anpingzhen – Tianjin – 80 km

I was in no hurry as I anticipated a short ride to Tianjin. Nevertheless, the temperature was even lower than the previous day, and the weather extremely foggy. I doubted whether the traffic could see me, and I tried making myself as visible as possible and stuck to the side of the road as best I could. Unfortunately, the fog never lifted, and I could barely see a few metres ahead. Freezing, I tied plastic bags around my feet and hands to try and keep warm. As expected in weather like that, I encountered a few horrendous pile-ups, causing back-up traffic kilometres on end. Nevertheless, I was happy on a bicycle, weaving through the stationary traffic, and was soon on the open road.

I pulled my new jacket tight, put my head down and headed straight for Tianjin which I believed sported a lovely old town. During the foreign era, the British and French settled in, joined by the Japanese, Germans, Hungarians, Italians and Belgians. Each concession was a self-contained world featuring a prison, school, barracks, and hospital. The result is that the old town is littered with impressive Western architecture.

The Three Brothers Hostel indicated the end of my day’s ride. Afterwards, a stroll around the Wudadao revealed charming European-style houses. The old town stood in sharp contrast to the modern city with its KFC, Burger King and McDonald’s. For a moment, I’d to rethink whether I was in America or China. Soon, it became icy, and I retreated to the warmth of the hostel where I was the sole person in an 8-bed dorm — bliss.

 

5 November – Tianjin

Only emerging at 9h30 made me stay the day. First, I’d to make peace with the fact Old China was no more and New China was a dull, westernised, modern, and sleek affair. Young people sat sipping coffee in hip-looking cafés, and white-dress wedding stores abounded. I searched for signs of old China but sadly saw no sign of it except a few small alleys tucked in behind Walmart, McDonald’s, KFC, Carrefour, and Starbucks.

The riverfront (part of the ancient Grand Canal) was a modern high-rise business area, and one couldn’t help but think where it would it all end. Nevertheless, a few side streets provided typical Chinese and inexpensive eats. I made sure I’d my fill before returning to the hostel and the touristy prices of shops in the old town. In China, there is nothing quite like a bowl of steaming dumplings in a dark, low-ceiling hole-in-the-wall eatery.

 

6 November – Tianjin – Cangzhou – 110 km

The ride to Cangzhou was a miserable affair and I had to remind myself there were days like that. At least the weather was marginally warmer and, around midday, I could lose the down jacket. Unfortunately, no sign of the ancient canal could be traced, and I cut a straight line to Cangzhou. The entire way remained congested and built up, apart from 20 kilometres through sad-looking farmlands. The highlight was one or two forgotten villages. Older men shuffled along, past corn drying in the sun and villagers, gazed, mouths agape.

It must’ve been an industrial area as a vast area, easily 20 - 30 kilometres, consisted entirely of truck repair workshops. Biking into Cangzhou wasn’t scenic either; dirty graffiti-covered walls screamed discontent in a foreign language, half-built high-rise apartment blocks were a depressing sight, and abandoned residential areas, accompanied by ongoing roadworks made for a miserable approach to the city.

With it being already late, I wanted to find accommodation in a hurry. Unfortunately, the first three hotels didn’t cater to foreigners, and the only one found was a luxurious international establishment. I needed money, but the first bank wanted nothing to do with me and spat my card out. Fortunately, the second bank was kind enough to give out a few bucks, enough to pay my costly abode. The room, large as a dance hall, came with all the mod-cons. I’d a quick shower and then popped across the street for a bite to eat. The food was dirt cheap and delicious, making up for a not-so-interesting day.

 

7 November - Cangzhou – Dezhou – 117 km

I don’t know why I slept in; it must’ve been due to the cold and thus 9h30 by the time I departed. It took close to an hour to do the 10 kilometres out of the city centre. Like the previous day, little of interest happened and I gunned it to Dezhou - not that I could gun it; a better description, would be I picked up the pace a tad.

With the icy weather, I didn’t stop as often as I usually did. At first, I was concerned I might not make it to Dezhou before dark - not a big deal as I could pitch a tent just about anywhere. However, the warmth of a building would be preferable in the arctic conditions. Fortunately, the going was good, and I arrived in Dezhou in good time.

Finding budget accommodation in China had become a pain in the ass as the less pricey hotels didn’t take foreigners. Searching for a place to stay is one of my pet hates, and this shopping around at the end of a day left me a bit long-lipped. Mercifully, the third hotel allowed foreigners, came at a reasonable rate, and the receptionist could speak a little English. I dropped my bags and headed straight to the dumpling stand. I, typically, ordered a considerable amount of food. Vendors assumed the order was for two people as it usually included two sets of chopsticks.

 

8 November – Dezhou – Ji’nan – 127 km

The best part of the day was in the mornings and when markets and stalls were in full swing. Steam from dumpling stands rose thick and high in the crisp morning air. People in warm coats gathered around, rubbing their hands in an attempt to stay warm. I couldn’t help myself and followed suit to the great amusement of the villagers. They chatted away, but, of course, I didn’t understand a word. So, I followed their example and rubbed my hands together, grinning foolishly.

I set off, with a steaming bag of dumplings dangling from the handlebars, in the direction of Ji’nan. The going was slow as the ride led into a slight breeze, and I didn’t appreciate the flat tyre. For me, the most common cause of flat tyres was riding over exploded truck tyres. Their insidious steel wires worked their way through just about any tyre, and no less two of them were stuck in my tyre. Schwalbe tyres are excellent but, at times, a real pain to get on and off. Eventually, the new tube was in and the tyre on.

I continued past vast vegetable plantations and a few brand-new towns not even on the map yet.

Cycling I wondered how many trees have been planted in China in the past ten years or so as, for the most part, roads were tree-lined, and each town featured several massive parks. But then, there’s the impressive Great Green Wall, which will eventually consist of almost 90 million acres of new forest stretching 2,800 miles across northern China.

In any event, it was already late by the time I slinked into Ji’nan, a vast city that took forever to get through. Unable to locate the Chengbei Hostel, I opted for the Home Inn. By then, already dark and freezing, I scurried off to the closest restaurant and spent the next two hours eating.

 

9-10 November – Ji’nan

I stayed put as I desperately needed to do laundry and pick up a few things from the supermarket.

With great sadness I learned the outcome of the US election, although I’m not at all interested in American politics or which party or person runs their government. Still, I was sad as so many people backed a blatantly hateful, racist and chauvinistic leader. The fact that the KKK backed Trump was an indication something was seriously wrong in this world of ours.

In a sombre mood, I packed up, but once outside encountered a 35 mile an hour wind. There and then, I offloaded and planned to wait out the weather. Fortunately, there was no need to cycle in such inhospitable conditions, and I, most likely, wouldn’t have made it to my next destination.

So, instead, I wandered around the shiny new city of Ji’nan which sported all the brand names one can imagine. However, most of the day was spent exploring the pedestrian lanes of Ji’nan, sampling intriguing and delicious snacks. Finally, utterly stuffed, I returned to the warmth of my hotel to check the weather forecast, which didn’t look all promising.

 

11 November – Ji’nan – Taishan – 80 km

I’d no intention of staying an additional day in Ji’nan and was happy the wind subsided to some extent. Fortunately, it wasn’t far to Taishan. Albeit the day didn’t provide exciting riding, cycling into a typical Chinese town was a highlight. The hostel I’d in mind was situated right in the heart of the old city.

Taishan is one of a few sacred mountains in China, and worshipped since the 11th century BC. The area is, therefore, a significant tourist destination. However, I wasn’t sure if I was in a mood to hike up the mountain in the miserable weather. So, instead, I visited the towns’ temples, traditionally visited by pilgrims prior to heading up the mountain.

The narrow alleys were lined by mobile food carts spewing steam and heavenly aromas and thus made an easy place to grab a bite to eat.

 

12 -13 November – Taishan – Qufu – 73 km

The weatherman predicted a slight tailwind and warmer than usual weather. So, I wasted no time hopping on the bike and heading to Qufu.

A pleasurable ride led to Qufu, the hometown of Confucius and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The old walled city is beautifully restored, and the hostel is a lovely old building.

A stroll around town revealed the Kong Mansion, where I learned Confucius’s family name was Kong Qiu. Still, the honorific Kong Fuzi was attributed to him. I further understood the Latinised name “Confucius” is derived from “Kong Fuzi” and was first coined by 16th-century Jesuit missionaries to China. In any event, the Kong Mansion, while stunning, isn’t where he lived (I think, seeing he lived between 551–479 BC.); still, this was his ancestral home.

I made a turn at the Temple of Yan (521–490 BC), said to be the favourite temple of Confucius. Soon, I became hungry as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was time to go in search of my favourite dumplings.

An additional day was spent in Qufu as I loved this little walled village from ancient times. I must’ve taken close to 200 pictures as the light and the colours were beautiful. I bought nasal spray as my nose was constantly blocked. I further managed to put more data on my phone, all things not simple when unable to speak the language.

 

14 November – Qufu – Tengzhou - 66 km

I was in no mood for riding, and it took me forever to pack up and thus it was already late by the time I pedalled out of foggy Qufu. Fortunately, the weather was lovely and warm. Even so, I dragged my heels and made slow progress.

The route to Tengzhou was planted under so many trees it felt like cycling through a forest, making lovely views and colours. In Tengzhou I called it a day, as there’s no point in biking when I don’t feel like it.

 

15 November - Tengzhou – Tai’erzhuang – 93 km

Forty kilometres into my ride, a sign pointed to Tai’erzhuang, said to be an ancient village. I threw a sharp left and followed the signs through the lovely countryside.

Tai’erzhuang, established in 221–207 BC, owed its existence to the Beijing–Hangzhou Grand Canal and was situated roughly midway along the canal. The town was mostly destroyed during the famous or rather infamous Battle of Tai’erzhuang in 1938. However, the city has been reconstructed and is now a popular tourist destination.

I sought out inconspicuous-looking digs where I found the male receptionist fast asleep behind the counter. The poor man woke with a start, seeing a foreigner. He must’ve thought it a nightmare. I handed him my passport, which he promptly returned, and I was sure he couldn’t read Latin script. What followed was heaps of OK, OK, OK, hands-together bowing. What a spectacle we must’ve made. In any event, the place turned out nice if one overlooked the soiled carpet and hair on the bathroom floor. Still, once settled, I couldn’t stop laughing at the sight we must have made. The price was right and the bedding clean, no complaints there. Outside, a lady made and sold crispy pancakes filled with stir-fried veggies, accompanied by a glass of hot soymilk. Delicious.

 

16 November – Tai’erzhuang – Pizhou– 50 km

In the morning, I first cycled through town to investigate the “ancient town” and my efforts were well rewarded. Tai’erzhuang was an old city, situated along a strategic railroad and canal junction. I envisaged it no more than one or two buildings, but it consisted of an entire village. Albeit reconstructed, it remained a lovely place to wander. The Battle of Tai’erzhuang occurred during the Second World War. This was a significant victory for China over Japan, trying to invade China. This battle was the first major Chinese victory in the war, and it broke the myth of Japanese invincibility.

Returning to the bicycle, I wanted to check the map and realised I’d left the phone in the handlebar-phone holder. Aargh. I’m such a “loskop”. To my utter surprise, the phone was exactly where I’d left it. I love China! Already long past midday, I changed my route and rode the short distance to the next town via country lanes. My chosen route was clearly not a touristy area, judging by the attention my presence received. I further discovered that along this route, the Grand Canal was still in use after all these years - fantastic stuff.

 

17-18 November – Pizhou – Xuzhou – 80 km

I planned to visit South Africa once done in China as my Mum turned 90. In Pizhou, I’d a good look at my options as I was coming to the end of my one-month visa and had to extend it or leave China. Prices of flights were fast increasing, reaching their highest around mid-December. It seemed a better option to fly out while ticket prices were still affordable and return to China later in 2017 when the weather would be more pleasant.

I thus booked a flight, but with too little time to reach Shanghai in time, a train ride seemed the best option. The following morning, I cycled to the next town. A slight tailwind made for relaxed riding to Xuzhou, a colossal city and not all attractive. I biked straight to the train station, where there were plenty of hotels from which to choose. I settled for the 7 Days Inn and then strolled to the train station to buy a ticket.

 

19 November – Xuzhou - Shanghai

I took the bicycle and panniers to the baggage department, where everything was weighed and booked in. I paid for a late check out as the train’s departure wasn’t until the evening, and around 20h00, I headed to the station. Once there, I learned my train was 9h30 in the morning and not in the evening. I don’t know what all the fuss was about a sleeping car. Fortunately, I could change the ticket to a later train, but this time could only get a seat and not a sleeper.

The trip turned out somewhat uncomfortable in an awfully full train. I inquired about a sleeper and around midnight I was in luck. A great deal of talking took place over a two-way radio and each one in the coach looked at the foreigner, causing such a disturbance. Soon I was led off to a coach where I could stretch out until the morning.

 

20-23 November – Shanghai, China – Cape Town, South Africa

We reached Shanghai at the ungodly hour of 5h00 in the morning and where the streets were still eerily quiet. I caught a taxi to the hostel but found them closed. However, a security guard said I could sit in their restaurant area until the staff arrived.

Sadly, the hostel was fully booked, and I opted for an abode around the corner. I never had a burning desire to visit Shanghai, but it came as a pleasant surprise. The city is graced with an ensemble of old buildings. Next, I walked the short distance to The Bund, a former concession area and home to lovely art deco architecture. Initially, The Bund was where the concession era trading took place; from rice to opium, it all happened here, the “Wall Street” of its time. Finally, I returned via East Nanjing Road, where the first department store in China opened in the 1920s. Today it’s a lively pedestrian mall and home to the world’s leading fashion names and a gigantic Apple store.

I collected my bicycle from the train station around four kilometres away and searched for a bike box. Afterwards, I met up with a Facebook friend Ingrid De Graeve, who was living in Shanghai at the time.

Then it was time to pack up and head to the airport for my flight to Cape Town. 

Tuesday 25 October 2016

CYCLE TOURING VIETNAM (2)

 




Vietnam (2)
1205 Kilometres - 21 Days
5 October – 25 October 2016

 

 

5 October - Ban Dong, Laos – Dong Ha, Vietnam – 107 km

A short ride took me to the Vietnamese border, where the crossing was an uncomplicated affair. At Lao Bao, a quick detour into town allowed drawing Vietnamese currency (a whopping 3,000,000 Dong as $1US = 22,000 Dong) and picking up a new SIM card.

From Lao Bao, a steady climb led up the mountain and onto a lovely descent past turn-offs to war-related sites. I also spotted the famous Rockpile. The Rockpile is a karst outcrop south of the former Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). The United States Army used it as an observation post and artillery base from 1966 to 1969. The area remained relatively rural, and as in Laos, people carried their wares in woven baskets on their backs and women smoked long, thin pipes while selling banana hearts.

 

6 October - Dong Ha – Dong Hoi – 105 km

Since it drizzled, I ummed and aahed whether to continue as my room was nice and cosy. But as always, I’d ants in my pants and departed in a drizzle, a drizzle which got worse as the day progressed.

Soon after leaving, my route crossed the DMZ, by then a peaceful place planted under rice and sporting grazing buffalo. I’d my head down and missed the turn-off to the tunnels and didn’t feel like retracing my steps in the pouring rain. Although not cold, the rain made a dreary day. The camera barely came out and there were a few missed photo opportunities. However, it’s not all lousy biking in the rain; in fact, it can be quite pleasant at times.

In Dong Hoi, I realised one needed to check one’s money, change, and prices as the Vietnamese didn’t need encouragement to do you in and thus one reason Vietnam wasn’t on the top of my “favourite destination” list. They weren’t even embarrassed when one pointed it out; they merely laughed and refunded you. I thus preferred ordering food from a menu indicating prices. The biggest problem was buying at a store. Generally, prices weren’t on items, and full advantage was taken of foreigners’ lack of knowledge.

 

7 October – Dong Hoi

During the Vietnam war, Dong Hoi was, unfortunately, situated close to the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone; ironically, this was where most of the fighting took place). On 11 February 1965, American B-52s raised the city to the ground. After the attack, all that remained were a water tower, part of the city gate, part of the Catholic Church, and a single palm tree. On departing, a short cycle took me through the city to have a glimpse at these spots and to have one more cup of coffee. In the process, I started chatting to other travellers and the weather came in which made me stay put. The rest of the day was spent exploring the city, doing laundry and eating interesting Vietnamese food.

What was noticeable was the lack of stray dogs as one often saw motorbikes with wire cages on the back transporting dogs. Vietnamese have an appetite for dog meat, and they see these animals as food, a delicacy, to wash down with a bottle of rice wine. If slaughtered in a humane way (if there is such a thing), it’s no different to lamb or pork, or at least that’s what I think. The Vietnamese don’t eat their pet dogs; as little as people in the West eat their pet chicken.

 

8 October – Dong Hoi – Son Trach – 45 km

Following a quick breakfast, I continued to Phong Nha National Park. Now a Unesco World Heritage Site, it’s a remarkable area containing the oldest karst mountains in Asia. The park is riddled with hundreds of cave systems. It made a beautiful cycle offering stunning vistas and the ever-present karst mountains in the distance.

During the day, a gathering of sorts got my attention, a funeral, I guessed, as a man in a brown robe chanted in a monotone voice. Bystanders were dressed in white robes and headbands. Plenty of food and incense were splayed out, and paper offerings were burnt. They encouraged me to take photos and upon leaving, my handlebar bag was stuffed with food and fruit. I say “stuffed” as the lid could barely close. Unsure of what to do, I made a wildly exaggerated puja/namaste by holding my palms together, touching my forehead and bowing numerous times. What a sight this must have made. On pedalling off, I could scarcely contain myself and nearly fell off the bike laughing, imagining what that must have looked like.

Reaching Son Trach (still with a bulging handlebar bag), uncovering accommodation was easy as this small town boasted numerous guesthouses. I was excited to investigate and first on the list was Phong Nha Cave, one of the world’s most extensive cave systems. Visiting involved a boat ride on the Son Trach River to the cave’s gaping mouth. We were rowed into the cave and were instantly transported into the wondrous world of stalagmites and stalactites—slack-jawed, I stared at the wonderment around me.

 

9 October – Son Trach and Paradise Cave

All loaded and ready to leave, a change of heart made me stay one more day as it was highly likely I would never return and best to see all the park offered.

The route to Paradise Cave wound past rice paddies and karst peaks deep into the National Park. Once there, a two-kilometre walk took me to the mouth of the cave. Surprisingly, one of the most extensive cave systems in the world (thirty-one kilometres) lay behind this tiny opening. No wonder it lay hidden until 2005. A wooden staircase led to this extensive system and the sheer size of the cave made it breath-taking. Unfortunately, my arrival coincided with a tour group and I assumed it would spoil the experience. However, the cave is so vast I didn’t even realise they were there. There are no words to describe the cave, but to say it’s spectacular. Unfortunately, my many photos didn’t come close to capturing the vastness of the cave or its beauty.

 

10 October - Son Trach – Yang hotel, Cam Xuyen – 127 km

Although dearly wanting to visit Dark Cave, I’d already spent far too much money as it involves an abseil into the cave.

My room rate included breakfast consisting of a Vietnamese omelette, baguette and ice coffee. The coffee is delicious but extremely strong if ice isn’t added. “Whe you go?” has become the norm while packing up and on replying, “China”, it appeared no one had ever heard of such a country.

My chosen route north took me past quintessential Vietnamese scenery of karst outcroppings, rice fields and grazing buffalo. Farmers ploughed the land with the help of oxen or buffalo; others were putt-putting upriver fishing net in hand.

I followed one of the old Ho Chi Ming trails, paths used by the Vietnamese during the war as a supply/support route. There are numerous paths/trails/routes, and I loved how rural the area was, but old graves reminded me of the many Vietnamese who lost their lives here.

Hot and sweaty, a sugar cane juice vendor made a welcome stop, something that remained a novelty, even though I’d been in Southeast Asia quite some time by then. Somehow, a missed turn took me to the main road. Not a train smash and I followed ladies collecting recyclable items and past older men watching over buffaloes. My greatest entertainment was two ladies herding geese and ducks. They didn’t wave their arms or make any exaggerated movements; they simply strolled along, guiding them gently. Comfortable-looking digs with a restaurant close by made perfect overnighting.

 

11 October – Yang Hotel, Cam Xuyen – Dien Chau – 112 km

What a bizarre day this was, starting with a message from an Australian lady demanding I delete the picture of the dogs being transported by bike or she would make sure I’d no friends! As if that would stop the Vietnamese eating dog meat! I thought it quite likely some of my Facebook friends received derogatory messages or comments from “me”. Later, a man mentioned that it was easier for women to travel by bicycle as they were stronger, and men couldn’t do it. On second thoughts, he could’ve tried justifying his use of a motorised bicycle, not that one needs explaining using an e-bike. At least I heard one “Welcome to Vietnam”. Not a great deal happened as the AH1 is a busy highway and best to look for a better route in the morning. The fascinating part was watching a herd of buffalo swim across a huge river. I’d no idea they were such good swimmers.

 

12 October – Dien Chau – Thanh Hoa - 104 km

Gosh, several peculiar things happened on this day. First, on rounding a truck parked on the shoulder, a lady on a motorbike popped out in front of me. Vehicles tend to go against the traffic in Vietnam. She got such a fright she dropped her motorbike, causing me to go over it. Fortunately, I didn’t fall hard, and she saw the incident as immensely funny. The Vietnamese have a habit of laughing when someone falls.

Another strange thing was people addressed one in any foreign language they’ve mastered (or half mastered), which may or may not be English. I was spoken to in German and French, and no good telling them you didn’t understand, as they just kept talking. Later I’d someone pulling up next to me with a friendly “Salaam alaikum”; I responded with “Alaikum salaam”, as it was my sole Arabic phrase. Not for a minute did I believe I resembled an Arabian person. I guessed they worked somewhere on the Arabian Peninsula.

I slowly edged towards Hanoi, trying not to get flattened by trucks and busses while dodging produce drying on the tarmac. Not many pictures were taken as the landscape was spoilt by wires, unsightly pylons, and frantic mining. Unfortunately, mining scars are irreversible and will be there forever and a day. Still, this was a rural part of the country, and farmers were busy harvesting rice while I shared the road with ladies, all of whom were on bicycles loaded to the hilt.

 

13 October - Thanh Hoa - Tam Coc - 60 km

My route veered off the highway and continued to one of Vietnam’s top tourist destinations, Tam Coc. Although a lively touristy area, it remained picturesque. A place from where boats headed upriver past jagged limestone cliff and rock formations rising out of the paddy fields reminiscent of Ha Long Bay. Even the ever-present air pollution couldn’t detract from the beauty of Tam Coc. However, the predicted rain made me wonder if a boat trip upriver would be worth the money.

 

14-19 October - Tam Coc – Hanoi – 110 km

Unfortunately, the continuous drizzle made me choose between going upriver in the rain or heading to Hanoi in the rain. Unable to make up my mind, I first had breakfast accompanied by a good cup of Vietnamese coffee. Hanoi won as it was hard to justify the money on a trip in the rain.

My chosen path had many interesting sights. It proceeded along a country lane and past tiny rural settlements where ladies traded on their haunches from wicker baskets on shoulder poles. Ancient Hoa Lu came as a surprise and is said the ancient capital of Vietnam, circa 800 BC., and it made a fascinating detour. Though not many buildings were left of the time, it remained a beautiful area featuring narrow alleys, old temples and askew moss-covered walls.

Although the drizzle continued throughout the day, the ride remained enjoyable. Eventually, the route spat me out upon the AH1, a busy highway that turned into a narrow, potholed single-lane road. The last part of the ride into Hanoi was an unpleasant affair. I thought it nothing short of miraculous that I made it to my destination unscathed. Traffic rules were non-existing, or I didn’t know them.

Tired and soaked, I cycled into bustling Hanoi and was relieved to find a reasonably priced abode in the labyrinthian of narrow lanes in the old quarters.

The following days were spent exploring Hanoi’s old part, a pleasant place in which to hang out. I met up with Bret and Hayley, who lived in Vietnam. They knew Hanoi like the back of their hand, and in the company of a few of their countless friends, we met up practically every night for beers and a bite to eat.

Rumours of an approaching typhoon made me stay put, but the days came and went, and no storm made an appearance. Each morning, the weatherman announced this was the day, making me pay one more night. Wandering the narrow lanes of the old quarters, I ate from street-side restaurants where people sat on tiny plastic chairs and drank countless cups of coffee at small cafes in narrow alleys.

 

20 October - Hanoi – Roadside hotel - 115 km

Eventually, the time came to pedal out of Hanoi. Three times, I changed my mind about what direction to go. In the process, I rode through tiny settlements lining the Duong River, all typical Vietnamese with straight-up houses resembling matchboxes on their sides. The villages were surrounded mainly by rice paddies and built around a church (how weird). The red-roofed houses, strangely, reminded me of Eastern Europe.

The route followed the river for the rest of the day, making a rural and pleasant ride. The GPS was set to “walking”, something that turned out heaps of fun as it sent me through markets, along cobblestoned alleys, past temples, and through residential areas complete with buffalos, chickens, and pigs; all, of course, to the great amusement of villagers.

The land along the river was fertile. My route ran past vast vegetable farming operations where farmers weeded and watered crops by hand. The narrow road was made even narrower due to villagers using the tarmac to dry their produce; ladies were methodically spreading rice onto giant plastic sheets, continuously turning it over. Although I thought of refraining from people shots, a man not merely carrying his fishing gear dangling from the one end of his shoulder pole but an entire boat made me take one more shot.

 

21 October - Roadside hotel - Halong City - 40 km

The short cycle into Halong City made a relaxed start to the day and the ride turned out a beautiful one past stunning karst scenery. Halong City is the gateway to Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island. However, I was unsure if I wanted to revisit Cat Ba Island.

In the meantime, I discovered my passport was left in Hanoi; what a pain. The receptionist at the hotel in Halong City was kind enough to phone and arrange for her brother (a minivan driver) to collect the passport and drop it off. How sweet of her. The free trade agreement in Vietnam meant development and building work was in full swing. Halong City thus resembled a giant construction site.

 

22 October - Halong City

The pollution/haze/fog was horrendous, and best not to spend money on a boat trip; quite sad. The remainder of the day was thus spent eating and drinking. Not a bad alternative to cycling.

 

23 October - Halong City – Dam Ha – 120 km

It’s hard to describe northern Vietnam, as it’s beautiful but heavily polluted. However, the visibility improved once away from the coast and its mining, dust and smog, and the colours returned. The rest of the ride was hilly but offered stunning vistas, especially with the ripening rice.

Old, dilapidated houses looked pretty against fields of yellowish-brown rice. Humble and welcoming folk sold meagre supplies at roadside stands. Each time I refilled my water bottles, I was invited to share a meal. Even men drinking at corner kiosks waved me closer and offered to share their rice wine, an offer which was better declined.

Once in Dam Ha, I looked for a guesthouse and soon spotted one adjacent to a restaurant. Interestingly, these little eateries often only had one option and Bia Ha Noi (a popular beer) on tap. No English was spoken, but it’s pretty easy to explain what you want when walking into a restaurant, and no sooner a huge spread arrived, so large was the portion, it was impossible to finish. The meal at first appeared unimpressive, consisting of simple rice, tofu, sausage, and greenery; but the individual taste was fantastic. Each dish was flavoursome and unique.

 

24 October - Dam Ha – Mong Cai – 60 km

A short ride led to Mong Cai on the Vietnam-China border. The ride was scenic through rural communities where villagers still wore tribal gear.

Mong Cai came as a surprise as the place was a large, sprawling city housing numerous markets. It appeared a popular cross-border trading post for both Chinese and Vietnamese. I wanted to cross the border in the morning to allow me a full-day ride on the Chinese side. The Mong Cai border was a border crossing seldom used by foreigners. I say this as there were no foreign travellers and I was treated as a novelty.

Nevertheless, it remained a tad disconcerting that people checked my shopping to see what I bought. Having a bite to eat gave me no more privacy as two ladies plonked themselves down and watched me eat without once taking their eyes off me. Instead, I didn’t finish the meal and opted for a takeaway from a different shop.

 

25 October – Mong Cai, Vietnam – Qinzhou, China – 100 km

It may be difficult to understand the immense sense of freedom I get from the unknown and from heading over distant hills, with only my bicycle and few possessions. There were days I couldn’t believe my luck that I lived this life. These were the random thoughts going through my mind en route to the border. It turned out one of those days I was convinced only a film crew could capture the bizarreness of what happened.

As mentioned before, it was a border crossing seldom used by foreigners, and I felt like the main attraction. Crowded by people, they peered into my handlebar bag and gazed at my phone to see what the foreigner was doing. They enquired about the purpose of the solar panel and if it was for charging the bike. They pointed to my rings and wanted my bracelets, all making me feel like wanting to escape in a hurry.

On that crazy note, I departed Vietnam with its sad history and gazillion graves and entered exotic China. At the passenger terminal, I’d to walk the bike in the company of what felt like the entire population of Vietnam and China, all wanting to lend a hand. The Chinese had a bigger personal space and kept their distance. The immigration officers could either not read the Latin alphabet or something was wrong with the passport. He continuously peered at me and then at the passport, held it up to the light, and inspected it from all sides. Maybe they’ve never seen someone from “Nanfei”, or they thought all Africans are black. It took forever, but the passport was eventually returned, and I was waved through.

My first stop was the ATM in the border town of Dongxing, where I drew 4,000 Chinese Yuan and then searched for a mobile phone shop to buy a SIM card. I was observed in silence while staff nervously reached for their phones to start translating. A SIM card was only available at the main office and was escorted there by one of the ladies. Resulting in it being 11h00 before getting underway with money in my wallet and a SIM card in my phone.

My route headed in the direction of Qinzhou a reasonably substantial city. Once on the outskirts of vast and sprawling Dongxing, I veered off onto a minor road, which turned out a delight to cycle. Although considerably slower, the countryside made effortless riding. Still, I cycled through huge cities, which seemed to go on forever. The towns all appeared daunting from a distance, but they were easy to get through, as they were new and well-planned. The hours’ time difference was welcomed, but it also meant the time was six o’clock instead of five, and being winter, it got dark early. I thus opted for the first accommodation and what a posh place. The price was almost double what I typically paid, but the establishment was new and fancy. Naturally, food was first on my mind. Afterwards, I tried doing laundry in a wash hand basin, clearly not designed for that purpose. Still, the fact they’d a drying rack right under the aircon unit came in handy.

Wednesday 5 October 2016

CYCLE TOURING LAOS (4) - SEARCHING FOR A CHINESE VISA EN ROUTE TO VIETNAM

 



LAOS (4) - SEARCHING FOR A CHINESE VISA EN ROUTE TO VIETNAM
897 Kilometres – 33 Days
2 September – 5 October 2016


 

2 September- Bangkok – Nang Khai, Thailand – Vientiane, Laos - 25 km

I’d a good sleep on the train and we reached Nong Khai at around 7h00 from where a three-kilometre walk led to Mut Mee Guesthouse. Then, as I’d nothing more to do in Thailand, I loaded the bike and pedalled towards the border.

The crossing was uneventful and an easy cycle across the Friendship Bridge took me to Laos and Vientiane. My first stop was at the Chinese Embassy to inquire regarding a visa and collect the forms. To my surprise, the visa application took two weeks. Not a great deal one could do, but head into the city to locate digs at the Dhaka Hotel. Unfortunately, the place was infamous for bedbugs, and the room required a good spray before unpacking.

As was my habit in a new country, I drew local currency and sorted out a new SIM card. Walking, I heard someone call my name, and lo and behold, would it not be Ernest. Indeed, a voice from the past. We shared a beer and chatted about where we’ve been and where we’re heading.

 

3-11 September - Vientiane

Time passed slowly in Vientiane and, I moved to Christian’s place. Christian, a Warmshowers host, hailed from Germany and worked in Laos. He’d a lovely condo located right upon the Mekong River, and I’d a bedroom all to myself; a good thing as well, as Christian is as neat as a pin, and it will suffice to say, I’m not in the same class.

 

12 September – Vientiane – Ban Vang - 105 km

The 19th was a week away, and best to head upriver, not by boat, but by bicycle. I thus saddled up and followed the Mekong River in a westerly direction. The river spread big and wide in front of me as I slowly made my way along its banks past numerous rural communities. The sweet voices of children calling, “Sawadee, falang” (hello, foreigner) mixed with the sounds of cowbells and the bleating of baby goats, brought a smile to my face.

The scenery was sublime, revealing typical Laos cloud formations and low-lying fog over the mountains, all making a brilliant day of biking. Indigenous markets, selling a meagre collection of banana hearts and bamboo shoots, dotted the road. The first section of the ride was along a smooth and relatively flat road, but halfway the route changed to a narrow winding road, which led up hills and snaked through tiny settlements where it took dodging both chickens and piglets. Judging by the attention my presence created, this wasn’t an area frequented by “farangs”, as kids giggled and pointed and dogs scurried away to the safety of their yards.

Hundred and Five kilometres later, a guesthouse got my attention. As I hadn’t seen one all day, I believed making it my overnight stop was a good idea. It offered a basic restaurant across the road, selling the usual noodle soup, beer, water and sodas. Very much my kind of place, despite the bed being rock hard.

 

13 September – Ban Vang – 50 km

The day didn’t start as planned as I stepped out of bed onto a scorpion. The poor thing was dead, but it still gave a painful sting, and I jumped around, holding my foot like a crazed woman. However, I didn’t think there were any deadly scorpions in Laos. I thus didn’t wait until blurred vision and palpitations set in.

Soon after leaving Ban Vang, the road changed into a dirt track, making a bumpy and slow ride. Nevertheless, I slowly crept up the sharp inclines and descended equally slowly, avoiding most potholes and rough sections while watching Thailand along the river’s opposite bank, knowing they had an excellent paved road. Nevertheless, it remained a beautiful ride offering stunning vistas and distant mountains.

There were barely villages; only the odd buffalo looked up in surprise as I sped past. An email concerning an apartment I was buying made me call it a day shortly past midday. Paklay was a further 50 kilometres and over a rough-looking set of mountains which helped me make up my mind.

I might’ve been too much in a hurry departing Vientiane, as I was required to print, sign, scan, and email several documents.

 

14 September - Ban Vang - Vientiane - by bus

I woke to the crowing of cocks and cackling of hens, and I decided to bus myself to Vientiane to do what had to be done.

Early morning the short ride to the bus stand was fascinating as people were out doing what they usually did. Kids went to school; farmers were on their way to the field, women shopped at markets, while others were coming from or going to the temple.

At the taxi stand, the driver had no problem taking the bicycle. Although no English was spoken, they clearly understood my intentions. Generally, these minivans waited until they were full before departing, and I’d a delicious plate of noodle soup while waiting. I was happy inside the van as the rain came pouring down, making the road a muddy mess. In Vientiane, I returned to Mixok Guesthouse and organised all that had to be done the following day.

 

15-18 September, Vientiane

Once the forms were signed and scanned, I stopped at the old city wall. Initially, three brick walls surrounded Vientiane, but Siamese troops destroyed the city in the middle of the 16th century. Today, only a tiny section of the original wall remains. I was convinced most people didn’t know it existed, let alone visit the site and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Then off to the Buddha Park, quite a bizarre setup. The park is filled with reinforced concrete Buddhist and Hindu sculptures of all shapes and sizes, including a gigantic reclining Buddha. The park was built in the late 1950s by a priest/monk/guru/artist who combined the Buddhist and Hindu philosophies in his peculiar way. He subsequently left Laos (as he disagreed with the communist view of the government) and settled across the Mekong River in Thailand.

 

19 September - Vientiane

In the morning, I picked up my long-awaited Chinese visa. Afterwards, I made copies of the documents that needed certifying prior to being scanned and emailed. I further popped into the hairdresser and came out looking considerably better than going in. Then off searching a place to certify a copy of my passport, which turned out significantly harder than envisaged as I got news from the attorneys it should be done at the South African embassy or a Notary Public. As there was no South African Embassy in Laos, finding a Notary Public (who spoke English) proved far more challenging than anticipated.

 

20 September - Vientiane

Ready to leave, I was astounded and couldn’t believe my eyes when I received an email from the attorneys, including seven further documents that needed signing. It wasn’t the number of documents that shocked me, but the pure incompetence of the so-called professional people in South Africa. I was in Vientiane for over two weeks and sent various emails to the attorneys stating my situation, emphasising I needed all the documents before 19 September. I was on my way to China, where I quite possibly wouldn’t have access to the internet, let alone find a Notary Public.

The sad part was this firm didn’t care if they caused one to miss a bus or flight or if they caused one to incur additional costs. They knew they were needed to do the transfer, and therefore didn’t need to provide a service. They further charged an astronomical amount for this so-called service; I was understandably livid!

Nine o’clock, I was at the Office of the Supreme People’s Prosecutor of Laos PDR to find a Notary Public to certify the documents (which didn’t come cheap). Then back to the internet to scan and email the papers. Late afternoon, I returned to my room, paid an extra night at the Mixok Guesthouse, and carried my bags upstairs. What a pain. By then, I’d changed my plans as I’d wasted far too much time. I feared it would be far too cold up north. I hence assumed it better to cycle China via Vietnam and cycle coastal China.

 

21 September – Vientiane – Thabok – 97 km

Mixok Guesthouse felt like home, but I was ready to cycle out of Vientiane. I’d breakfast while waiting until my laundry returned and then got underway. Hallelujah! “Are you leaving us?” the chap at reception asked, smiling as I’ve gone through this procedure a few times by then.

A massive grin spread across my face as I biked out of town, seeing Vientiane disappearing in my rear-view mirror. I am always thrilled out on the bike; it’s like a curse—a nice one. A baguette stall made it convenient bagging lunch before proceeding in the company of school kids on bikes down a country lane. Even though I’d cycled this exact route not too long before, I again marvelled at ladies in conical hats, selling their wares from shoulder poles and old ladies sitting, bent over weaving brooms from dry wild grasses. Markets are interesting as they sell everyday things—brooms, woven baskets for steaming rice, charcoal stoves made of clay, and woven mats used to sit and sleep upon. I even passed the motorbike salesman selling live goldfish in small plastic bags.

Although hot and humid, the day was one of easy riding. Reaching Thabok, a convenient guesthouse, got my attention, and I took it as a sign to use it as an overnight stop.

 

22 September – Thabok – Pakkading – 100 km

“Sabaidee falang,” small kids called as I pedalled past, and grownups looked up in surprise, asking the by-then familiar question, “Where you go?” I responded with a wave and a smile as there was no point in explaining. The visibility was poor, and I expected rain any minute, which fortunately never materialised.

That part of Laos was highly rural, and I never tired of watching ladies leading buffalo to greener pastures or lone anglers sitting in a long, narrow boat patiently waiting for fish to bite. The rice fields were still luminous green and appeared even more so under a cloudy sky. I watched kids jump off bridges into the river below and was happy to see them enjoying themselves. Then, finally, I caught an excellent slipstream behind a two-wheel tractor (lack of a better word). Not simply is it a remarkably versatile machine, but it provides a perfect slipstream at a steady 20 kilometres per hour.

I thus reached sleepy Pak Kading early. It made an excellent overnight stop at the confluence of the Mekong and Kading River, said one of the most pristine rivers in Laos.

 

23 September - Pak Kading – Aomchay Guesthouse, Ban Thangbeng - 106 km

Departing Pak Kading was in a slight drizzle, a drizzle which continued all morning. It wouldn’t have been all terrible was it not having a stomach problem. Arggh, there’s never a dull moment and no fun searching a bush to hide behind in the rain. Fortunately, the weather cleared around midday, and although still overcast, it didn’t prevent a nice ride.

Around 15h00, dark clouds gathered, and although just a few kilometres remained to the next village, I doubted I would make it. However, my gut feel was right and no sooner did the sky darken and rain came pelting down, making me find cover in a hurry. In the company of motorbikes, I waited until the storm passed.

Three kilometres further was a guesthouse, offering a warm shower which was greatly appreciated as I felt cold by then. Then, dressed in dry clothes, I strolled to a nearby eatery and was amazed at the food quality. In no time at all, and in the most basic kitchen, they whipped up a dish so delicious one would still reminisce about it years later.

 

24 September – Aomchay Guesthouse – Thakhek - 54 km

A short but picturesque ride ran to Thakhek. The weather cleared, making a perfect morning as I pedalled off. En route, I stumbled upon a traditional market selling illegal wildlife. I say it’s illegal as they didn’t want me to take pictures and hide items under the table (like a baby deer and a furry-looking catlike animal). Still, I sneaked a few shots as what they were selling was too weird: iguanas, squirrels, rats, bats, and what could be guinea pigs. Even the fish appeared unknown.

Ahead of Thakhek, I stopped at what is known as the Great Wall of Laos. This wall fascinated me as it’s a geological phenomenon caused by fissures. Still, its physical resemblance to a human-made structure gave rise to many Laos myths regarding its origin. Some claim the wall was built during the Sikhottabong Empire in the 19th century as a defence system; others believe it was used as a dyke to stem rising floodwaters. I rode into town, found suitable accommodation on the banks of the river, and, as was my habit, hurried to the market on the hunt for food.

 

25 September - Thakhek

One more day was spent in Thakhek as I explored a few nearby caves. So I packed the camera gear, hailed a tuk-tuk and set off to the Buddha Cave. Unfortunately, I didn’t cycle due to rumours of poor road conditions. “Poor condition” was an understatement, as the road was one muddy mess. The tuk-tuk bounced along over potholes and through muddy puddles. Eventually, it took pushing the tuk-tuk through the worst of it, arriving at the cave a tad messy. The entrance fee to the cave was Five thousand Kip, plus five thousand to rent a traditional Laos skirt. A price I didn’t pay as I brought a sarong. The biggest surprise came once inside, as a sign stated no photographs and that following the effort of getting there.

The cave, nevertheless, has an exciting history. It was said discovered in 2004 by a farmer hunting bats. He unearthed 229 bronze Buddha statues inside the cave, presumed more than 450-years-old. The Buddhas are assumed to have formed part of the royal collection hidden there when the Thais ransacked Vientiane. The hills around Thakhek are littered with caves, but I didn’t want to spend more money and return to Thakhek. What an unsuccessful day.

 

26–27 September - Thakhek – Savannakhet – 125 km

I stuck to the river trail, which eventually petered out altogether. I, however, located a minor path running parallel to the river. The ride was a pleasant one past innumerable fishing communities. Unfortunately, the dirt track deteriorated further, and traffic snaked around potholes on the rough gravel road. Storm clouds gathered, and soon it started bucketing down. A shelter provided a place to wait out the storm, which took forever to pass; as a result, I slinked into Savannakhet in the dying moments of the day, where I immediately made a B-line for the night market.

I handed in my Vietnamese visa application the following day, a straightforward process. The form was no more than one page, and I could collect it the next day. I consequently had the rest of the day at leisure, and stinking hot, I stayed put and sorted out my growing number of photos, a long-overdue job.

 

28-29 September - Vientiane

September wasn’t a good month for Aries, and I was pleased to see the end of it. Unfortunately, Mercury had been retrograding since the beginning of the month and though it ended on 22 September, I still felt the effects. In short, the Mercury retrograde meant communication was fucked up, and things were delayed. (Think Chinese visa and legal documents coming through in drips and drabs.)

In Savannakhet, I received an email requesting signatures and verification of two more documents. Give me strength! To find a Notary Public isn’t an easy task, especially for one who owns an English stamp. Early morning, I thus hopped on a bus to Vientiane. Unfortunately, the bus took far longer than anticipated, and we arrived in Vientiane after 17h00. And there I thought I could be back the same day!

My urgency was due to my Laos visa expiring in two days and a two- or three-day ride remained from Savannakhet to the border. However, there are certain things one can do nothing about. (Smile and breathe deeply.)

First thing in the morning, I was at the immigration office to extend my Laos visa. Still, I could only pick up the passport the following day, meaning another day until returning to Savannakhet. (Smile and breathe deeply.) Then off to the courthouse to verify my documents, but was informed all were in a meeting and to return later (smile and breathe deeply). Eventually, the forms were verified, stamped, signed, emailed and DHL-ed. All that remained was to collect the visa extension at 10h30 the following morning, then bus to Savannakhet to collect the Vietnamese visa and head to Vietnam. The tide was changing – I hoped. Time to relax, sit down, have a beer, and enjoy the sunset.

 

30 September - 1 October - Savannakhet

Ten o’clock sharp, I was at the immigration office to collect my Laos visa extension and then straight to the bus station to catch the Savannakhet bus, and where we arrived shortly past 21h00. Super excited to get going, I was up early and walked the short distance to the Vietnamese consulate to collect my visa, only to realise it was a Saturday!

Although Savannakhet is a small town, it’s pleasant enough to spend the weekend. I walked around the old quarters, by then a shadow of what it was in its heyday. Over 100-year-old buildings made great photo opportunities at sunset. The riverfront offered countless food vendors was a perfect place to pick up a bite to eat or try my hand at panning shots. I ended up at the night market and realised I didn’t have my handlebar bag/camera bag. I practically had a heart attack; not merely was the bag precious to me, but it contained my entire life, i.e. passport, important personal documents and all bank cards!

In a huff, I retraced my steps (the hassle of applying for a new passport flashed in front of my eyes); First, I swung by the old quarters, but there was nothing there. I then retraced my steps to the lively riverfront, and even from a distance, I could see the bag exactly where I left it. Surrounded by people enjoying the sunset, sat the bag with its valuable content!

I wondered how many places in the world could leave a bag sitting in such a well-visited area and return later to find it still there. I thanked the people sitting next to it - they looked at me as if they didn’t know why I was thanking them – and I returned to the night market where I’d left my beer. Apart from the ice which melted, the beer was precisely where I’d left it, and I considered moving to Laos.

 

2-3 October - Savannakhet – Roadside Guesthouse - 115km

Hurray! I finally departed Savannakhet, and at 7h30, I was at the Vietnamese consulate to collect my visa. The guy behind the counter was kind and dated the visa from the date collected instead of the date handed in. One last hiccup remained as I emerged, to my phone being dead as a doornail. I swung by the Samsung office and fortunately, the culprit was only a faulty memory card. Phew! I felt good as I pedalled out of town in the direction of the Vietnamese border. En route I came upon one of the old war relics. The CIA operation, which ran from 1961 until 1975, became known as the Secret War. Unlike in the well-known Vietnam War, the fighting was done not by American soldiers but by the CIA’s mercenaries. During that period, 2.1 million tonnes of ordnance were released over Laos. COPE (in Vientiane) aims to provide Orthotic and Prosthetic and ensure people with physical disabilities have free access to nationally managed rehabilitation services. I got the following off their website.

 

STATISTICS TO REMEMBER:

260 Million - Estimated number of sub-munitions (bombies) from cluster bombs dropped over Laos PDR between 1964 and 1973

2 Million tonnes - Estimated ordnance dropped on Laos PDR between 1964 and 1973

580 000 - Estimated number of bombing missions flown over Laos PDR between 1964 and 1973

30% - An estimated failure rate of sub-munitions under ideal conditions

80 Million - Estimated number of sub-munitions that failed to explode

1,090,228 - Estimated number of unexploded sub-munitions destroyed by UXO LAOS from 1996 to December 2009

300 - Estimated number of new casualties from UXO incidents every year in Laos PDR

Sources: NRA Annual Report 2009/NRA Website

Fortunately, the rest of the day was in a lighter mood, although I still wanted to read “The Ravens”. A book about the men who flew in America’s Secret War in Laos: I intended to download it as soon as I had a better internet connection. The section between the Mekong River and the Vietnam border is relatively rural with vast natural forests. I understood there were still communities living off the forest. The rice paddies were slowly changing colour, and instead of the luminous green, it was a much softer yellowish-brown. Roughly 115 kilometres down the drag, I spotted a guesthouse and deemed it a good enough place and time to call it a day.

 

4 October - Roadside Guesthouse – Ban Dong – 120 km

I savoured my last day of cycling in Laos. The area was as rural as I remembered from seven years ago and as then, it reminded me of Africa. Bare-bum kids were running amok, playing with old tyres. Yet, at the same time, heavenly smells drifted across from women cooking on open fires. Chickens and goats had the run of the road, and in each village, my arrival was announced by the shrill “falang, falang” from kids.

All-day, serious-looking mountains loomed ahead, but nothing came of it as the road cleverly snaked around them, making easy pedalling. As rice harvesting had begun in all earnest, women were selling bunches of dried bamboo slivers tying freshly-cut rice into bundles. The area was exceptionally scenic, featuring green valleys and misty mountains, none of which I captured on film. I further met two cyclists, the first in many a month. We’d a long chat, but as they still had a way to go and so did I, we soon parted ways. Nevertheless, I continued an additional 20 kilometres or so. Shortly before the border, a convenient roadside guesthouse appeared and I immediately ordered a large bowl of noodle soup.

 

5 October - Ban Dong, Laos – Lao Bao, Vietnam – 20 km

A short ride took me to the border, where a quick stamp in the passport allowed a 30-day stay in Vietnam. The small village of Lao Bao was a short distance, and I made a quick detour into town to draw Vietnamese currency (a whopping 3,000,000 dong – $1US = 22,000 dong) and to pick up a new SIM card.