tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65568808469876157012024-03-12T19:10:24.556-07:00Ben Davis PhotographyA photographic and overly-wordy account of my travels, wherever they may beBen Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-89977429862437812412014-05-10T03:18:00.002-07:002014-05-10T13:16:02.685-07:00Two weeks in Cuba – Havana, Vinales & Trinidad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuba - vintage cars and crumbling architecture. </td></tr>
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Havana</h3>
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Havana is a city of rubble and ruin. It looks like a war has been raging for decades, and in some ways it has. The war of ideas and its global economic isolation has left the country poorer than it perhaps should be. Signs of its former wealth are everywhere – from grand colonial buildings to the smartest American cars of the 1950s – but the riches to rags story of Cuba is now part of its appeal and intrigue for many visitors.<br />
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We spent our first two days exploring the older parts of town – where the decay and structural collapse is most prevalent – and where as a curious foreigner most of the interest lies. We walked the ramshackle streets until our feet were blistered, and absorbed as much of the bustle and rhythm as our brains could handle. The streets were busy, life in Cuba feels very public and everyone seems to know everyone else. There’s never silence, no one is withdrawn behind headphones or smartphone screens and a constant salsa beat trickles from passing rattling cars, shady doorways or wide-open windows.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Havana streets.</td></tr>
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One of the biggest attractions adorning the streets were the cars themselves. Old American cars, classic cars churned out of Detroit in its 1950s heyday. These cars would be collectors items or museum pieces at home, but here they remain the core mode of transport. A ban on buying and selling vehicles after the revolution meant people looked after what they already had, and many of these motors remain pristine with shiny chrome fenders and perfect paintwork, though the fumes they kick out can be a little noxious. I don’t normally give a damn about cars, but I couldn’t help but be continually impressed and mesmerised by this antique fleet during my time in Cuba.<br />
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We mostly walked in Havana Vieja – the oldest part of town; then along the seaside strip of Malecon and into neighbourhoods whose names I never knew. These anonymous neighbourhoods were the most interesting, the most real and with the most life – the most suffering. The first day we wandered aimlessly, the second day we joined up the dots. People were friendly, many people sat on doorsteps would nod and offer a ‘hola’, nobody was ever hostile during our entire two weeks in Cuba.<br />
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Walking among the buildings with crumbling colonial facades, peeling porticos or even those which are entirely ruined and collapsed, one of the most notable absences is capitalism; it barely exists in any form. At home we’re constantly harassed by billboards, posters or other advertisements; in Cuba, the only messages shouted were state propaganda. Slogans about socialism or reminders of the revolution, some of which I could loosely translate, and the only celebrities were Che and Fidel. The aspirations on display were a philosophy of equality and justice, not of private wealth and a sex-driven ego.<br />
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Not only were there no products being advertised, they also weren’t available to buy either. There’s an overwhelming lack of shops in Cuba. There’s no air conditioned grocery shops with fridges of coke, there’s no famous brands selling consumer crap, there’s no malls of endless aspiration and glossed-up misery. There are a few places selling a mixture of imported dry food and Chinese hardware, but the half-empty shelves have more dust than things you’d want to purchase. The most common ’shop’ you’ll encounter is a state-run ration outlet. Everyone in Cuba receives basic grocery rations, perhaps as much a socialist ideal of equality as it is a necessity.<br />
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Two currencies exist too. There’s the Peso for locals, and you need 25 of these to get one CUC, which is what the tourists use. The average Cuban wage is around $20 a month, a meal in a restaurant for tourists might cost $10 per head, so this two-tier economy is essential. The tourist dollar is of fundamental value to both the Cuban state and to individuals who can tap this resource. One restaurant tip could equal a week’s state-salary. People never hassle or persistently beg though, but being asked for clothes or soap on the street isn’t an unusual encounter. In Havana, we came across a couple of obvious tricksters or those solely seeking to take a dollar from you, but these were easy to spot and deal with; sometimes by giving them the coin they sought. Never were we hassled or felt unsafe, not once. We paid vastly inflated fees on the first few taxi rides, but that’s almost to be expected when arriving somewhere new. Beyond that, people were genuine, with a warmth and honesty that is hard to come by at home.<br />
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<h3>
Valle de Vinales </h3>
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On our third full day we took a four hour bus to Vinales, a rural valley in the west of the island. Here we would stay in our first Casa Particulares, which is essentially just renting a spare room in a private house, and most accommodation outside of the big resorts is like this in Cuba. In Havana we’d stayed in a big generic international hotel as it was easier to book at the last minute from home, it was fine if uninteresting. When we stepped off the bus in Vinales, a small horde of people were waiting to offer up a place in their home. We took one with a women called Diame, who charged us 15 CUCs for the room per day, which is under £10, and eight times less than the hotel cost. She also offered breakfast and dinner for a few pounds more, so we accepted. The apartment we stayed in was unlike most of the accommodation in the small town of old colonial-era bungalows; it was a three storey 1960s council-type block and we had our own comfortable private room and bathroom. We stayed for three nights. The first late afternoon we took a walk into town, had some lunch and then wandered off amongst the farms and fields of the valley. I was tired, so we dozed in the shade of a tree surrounded by crops of tobacco and maize and clucking chickens.<br />
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The next day we arranged to go on a horse trek through the countryside. We trotted through fields the colours of rust with rich green vegetation bursting from the soil and countless vultures soaring and circling overhead. The landscape was tranquil, and huge monolithic limestone karsts erupted out of the gently rolling hills. We stopped by a tobacco plantation, where the farmer gave information in Spanish, and for some reason I was the one to translate to a Czech couple who also arrived there. I don’t speak Spanish, but a long-lost education in Latin, a smattering of forgotten Italian and some general guesswork meant I got the job. I think I got it half right. We went in the tobacco drying barn, where the farmer showed us how cigars were rolled, and I bought 15 off him, which I’ll save for a special occasion. Afterwards we stopped by a lake where we swam to rinse off the noon-sweat, before heading back to the place we started from.<br />
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Later that afternoon we took another wander out into the countryside. A big thunderstorm was rolling in just as we were approaching a mystical tree. It stood alone in the landscape, and the shape of the tree conjured something deep in my DNA. I’m not a spiritual person, but there was something about this tree and location that stirred some ancient feeling in me, something I’ve never felt inside any church or temple. It obviously had the same effect on other people too, as some shrines and weathered offerings were found amongst the arching roots. The rain began to lash down so we dashed for a hut a few metres away. A farmer who’d been out in the fields had the same idea, so we sat with him until the rain passed. We tried to communicate, but I found it difficult. After the rain stopped he said something about coffee, so I looked at Alice, shrugged, and we followed him across the fields. He led us to his house which wasn’t far from town, and was a pleasant place with a nice garden with a big sow in a shed and smattering of hens. His wife made us a delicious cup of rich black coffee, the beans harvested from his own garden plants, and we made simple small talk with the few words I knew and was slowly picking up. After the drink, and wholly great experience, we made our way back for dinner at our Casa.<br />
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The next day we rented bikes and headed out of town in the direction of some caves. The inclines were heavy going in the smothering heat, and the rush of air on the downhill glides held us from early exhaustion, which was essential as we nursed hangovers from a rum-heavy trip to the Casa de la Musica the night before. We arrived at the cave within an hour, paid the entrance fee and wandered inside. Halfway along a boat was waiting to ferry us along the river part. It was alright, but a cave is a cave, they’re pretty much all the same and rarely offer up anything new or exciting. We continued on our bike ride, looking for the river which was marked on our basic map for a spot of swimming. Eventually we heard the familiar trickle of water and so went to investigate. We locked our bikes to a tree and clambered down a jungle slope to reveal a small eden. A weir-like waterfall flowed into a small pool, and palm trees swayed on the banks above. It was perfect. We stripped down and swam in the clear cool water. I then resorted to my usual self and started playing survival. Foraging on the banks for resources and then starting a fire on a clear patch of earth. I even considered bashing in a dozing lizard for lunch, but knew I’d be taking it too far.<br />
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We re-saddled and continued down the road in the roasting afternoon heat. We were hoping to find a turning which would loop back to town, but it never materialised. We decided to turn around and head back the way we came. Our two bottles of water had soon emptied, and the crushing heat and steep hills made it impossible to pedal up, so we resorted to wheeling our bikes up the hills and free-cycling down them. We soon became exhausted and slightly concerned about our condition. We passed through villages but there was nowhere to buy drinks. We stopped by some people and said ‘agua, per favore’, and were led to a house where a kindly woman produced a bottle of iced water from her freezer. The water was cloudy but we didn’t care and gulped it down. She wouldn’t take any money from us, but I dug out a bar of soap I’d lifted from our first hotel and gave it as some kind of recompense. Watered, we continued on our way home. Eventually we reached the cave we’d stopped at earlier on, and so bought several sugary drinks and gulped them down. On the last leg the heavens opened and rain drops the size of boiled eggs smashed into our tired bodies. We made it back into town, tired, soaked but happy. </div>
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</h3>
<h3>
Trinidad</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The following morning we took a bus out of Vinales heading for Trinidad, an old colonial town halfway along the southern coast. The trip took 11 hours, two more than expected, but the journey didn’t drag. Upon arrival we were collected by a contact of Diame and taken to their Casa. This one was a little more middle class, if a bit kitsch, and our new hosts Madeleine and Jose made us very welcome. We planned to spend almost the remainder of our time in Trinidad, as some friends who’d been to Cuba had said it was their favourite place, and we wanted to soak up somewhere rather than endure too many bus rides. The town was idyllic. Old colonial houses painted warm pastel hues lined the cobbled streets, and open windows gave glimpses into people’s lives. Furniture worthy of National Trust properties filled the rooms, and chandeliers hung from the ceilings. The town was in a time warp unlike any other I’ve seen. Each morning we were awoken by the same street sounds. Horses hooves clattering on the cobbles, and the shouts of ‘El pan! El pan!’ as bread sellers wound their way around the houses. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">On our first morning there, May 1st, the street was alive with the beginning of a parade. We rushed breakfast and headed out to investigate. The procession stretched for seemingly endless blocks. Icons of the state, Cuban flags, placards of Castro and banners were held aloft by the crowd. It seemed a mix of Notting Hill Carnival and a Trade Union rally. I went into press photographer mode and took it as an opportunity to take as many pictures as possible. The usual rules of photographic engagement don’t exist at an event like this, and saw it as the perfect invitation to take pictures of people which I wouldn’t get again. From what I could work out, the parade seemed to be a celebration of socialism and Cuban society. Every different profession was represented in recognisable groups: the bakers, the lobster fishermen, the taxi drivers, the security guards. Each had their own unit and made their way to a big open space, where council officials stood on stage to applaud them as they passed. It was an interesting morning. That afternoon we made our way to the beach – Playa Ancon – which was nice but disappointingly the water was too murky to snorkel, so we read and burnt our legs. </span><br />
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The next day, a little tired and sore from the sun, we decided to spend it relaxing and exploring the town. In the afternoon we took an explore and foraged for photographs. We looped around the streets, taking in local life and stopped by the more touristy old square. We climbed a tower for views over Trinidad, before navigating further backstreet cobbles. Some kids wanted their picture taken, so I obliged and then they wanted to show off their pet pigeon. Around the next corner a dead-eyed old cigar smoking man gestured something, so I leant in for a picture. He said something and gripped my hand firmly. I couldn’t understand the words, but I gave him a coin and he let go.<br />
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The day after we were booked to go on a catamaran trip to an island called Cayo Blanco, an hours sail away. There were at least 20 other people on the boat, a large group of Slovakian men, three Swiss dicks and a few others couples. We got chatting to some Welsh-Polish newlyweds, and arranged to go out for a drink later that night. The boat trip itself was good, the water was clear and offered us some good snorkelling with a variety of fish and corals. We spent a few hours on the hermit-crab island for lunch, and went off for some more underwater-gawping. There was an old collapsed jetty, and here life teemed – we even found an octopus hiding in a hollow.<br />
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That night we met up with our boat friends, Lee and Kasha, and went to the Case de la Musica for mojitos. The nightlife was a bit cabaret, so searched out a nightclub in a cave we’d heard mentioned. I asked for directions ‘donde es la cueava’ – or something – and got pointed along unlit chicken backstreets. Eventually we came cross it, and opening in the ground with bouncers at the entrance. We paid the nominal entry fee and made our way down the steps into the damp smelling cavern. We turned a corner and all of a sudden could hear the music. It opened up into a large underground chamber, a real cave, complete with a bar, disco lights and dance floor. It was unreal. We were already drunk by this point, and in total saw off around a dozen mojitos which were two-thirds rum. We danced a sweaty dance amongst locals, young stylish ones, and old women in apparent nighties. It was an odd mix but one of the most fun and unusual nights out I’ve had in a long time.<br />
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We woke up with hangovers to the usual street sounds, but had to force ourselves out for another excursion we were booked on – a trip into the mountains. I lay with a sore head on the pavement until a Russian army truck picked us up, and we rattled our way up steep mountain slopes. We stopped by a shitty and pointless visitor centre, stopped by a ‘coffee farm’ which was just a cafe with a few farm ornaments, and then got to the place we’d start the 2km trek to the waterfall. It was mostly downhill which was hard on the knees, but the day was overcast which a small mercy. Once we reached it, we discreetly got our swim clothes on and plunged into the pool. We had a good swim in the deep cool water, and as we got out the heavens opened. We marched back up the trail, still in my swim shorts, and the truck took us to a much needed lunch in a chilly mountain restaurant.<br />
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The next morning we sought out the tourist train to Valle de los Ingenious. It slowly clunked through nice countryside, and made two stops. One at a village which had a tall tower, built by a wealthy landowner a few hundred years ago so he could keep an eye on all his slaves on the surrounding sugar plantations, and the second by an old hacienda which was now a restaurant. We took a walk with another British couple we’d met on the train, who’d been travelling south and central America for 6 months, and sought out the river. We didn’t swim, but there was nothing else to do other than sit in the restaurant. The stops were fairly uninspiring, but the train ride was a pleasant morning out. On the return journey the train hollered on the horn as a cow was standing on the tracks. The dozy beast didn’t get out of the way, and it met an instant death under the locomotive. The train stopped and the two carriages were separated so the cow could by pulled from the rails. It made an interesting spectacle. As we continued local men on horseback raced by with smiles on their faces and machetes under their arms: it was steak for dinner for the rest of the week. Later that night we met up in a bar with the British couple we’d met – Ronnie and Sarah – and sank a few mojitos.<br />
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On our final full day we took another boat trip to a different island - Cayo Macho. There was only 7 of us tourists on this trip, so immediately it was better. The snorkelling was improved too with more fish and further varieties of coral. We took lunch on the island, which we’d heard was famous for its population of iguanas but we weren’t quite prepared for what we found. Dozens of the dinosaur-looking beasts waited for us on the beach, they were obviously used to being fed by people and so weren’t afraid of us. I was busy photographing some sunning themselves, when I didn’t notice some other creatures approach. A type of giant tree rat, known as Hutias, live on the island, and were also tamed and seeking food. At first I was unsure of these enormous rodents, were they safe? I soon realised how comical and tame these wild beats were, and enjoyed photographing them as they sought food from us. After lunch which involved guarding it from the island’s hungry inhabitants, we took in another snorkel before reluctantly heading back to the mainland. At dusk I took a ride in our hosts 1952 car, which was a fun experience I won’t forget.<br />
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The following and penultimate day we took a private hire minibus back to Havana, with a mix of tourists and Cubans. An American woman’s self-centred and self-unaware monologue from the seats behind us almost drove us to despair, but being English we’re unlikely to turn around and give her both barrels. Upon arriving in Havana we walked up to our final accommodation, a Casa on the 14th floor of a tower block. The apartment was glorious, with fine furnishings, impressive art and awesome views. We took a good walk around, but struggled to find the energy or enthusiasm for further exploration, and spent our remaining 24 hours relaxing and winding down, ready for our return flight home. The taxi drive to the airport contained an interesting conversation about the problems Cuba faces; how the two brothers have destroyed the country, socialism smothers progress and the only solution to their struggles is capitalism and an opening up of the markets. Small steps are being taken in this direction, and surely it’s only a matter of time before this tropical socialism succumbs to global pressures. Part of me liked some of the aspects I’d seen of the socialism in Cuba, there was no visible very poor or very rich; unlike home. I’d seen fewer beggars than I would’ve had at home, and the few down-and-outs seemed to be treated fairly well by the various authorities they ran in to. That said, Cuba is crying out for a little bit of capitalism. The inability to buy a drink in a village, because there’s no shop, feels nonsensical, and if people want to provide services whilst bettering themselves, I don’t think they should be prevented from doing so. Especially by a totalitarian ruling elite who dictate oppressive laws of a low-lying equality whilst wallowing in luxury themselves. But nearly all rulers and leaders are like that, everywhere you go. </div>
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Cuba as a travel destination was excellent. I’d recommend it to anyone and am surprised more people don’t choose it as a backpacking destination, it would be perfect for an inexpensive three-month explore. The people are fantastic, the countryside is stunning, the cities are throbbing, the food gets a bit boring and limiting but the rum is free-flowing to compensate. If you’re thinking of going, do it sooner rather than later. Many of the charms may be lost or diluted once the inevitable collapse of the socialist state finally occurs. </div>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-76993480484522021782013-11-25T05:18:00.000-08:002013-11-25T05:18:30.127-08:00Journey's End: Up the Mississippi to Memphis and Nashville<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Milky Way above Mississippi.</td></tr>
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After leaving New Orleans and driving above the southern swamps at sunset, with the branchless trees silhouetted like totem poles against the burning sky, we headed north to the state of Mississippi. It was dark before we crossed the state border, and it was a couple of hours drive to Natchez, our rest destination for the night. It seemed much of the drive was forested, we barely passed anything resembling a city, and when I stopped the car for a piss in some pitch black woodland the stars glistened so bright I had to pull out my tripod to take a picture. As I finished taking the frame, I let out a mock horror-film shriek to joke with Mark and Matt sat in the car; and as I grinned at them something heavy snapped a branch twenty feet away in the darkness. I flung my camera gear in the boot and floored the car into the night; I didn't want to try and get a photo of Bigfoot, or whatever was out there.<br />
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We reached Natchez and after checking into a motel right next to a cool bridge that spanned the Mississippi River, went off in search of food. It seems a lot of restaurants in the States close at 9pm which is a bit annoying and seems like they miss out on a bit of trade: I like to eat late. Anyway, we found one that would serve us but not let us sit inside, so we took hot pork rolls as take out, and ate them on a bandstand in a chilly park sat right above the Mississippi, and looking onto the impressive bridge. I felt a little bit like a hobo and I loved it. After our night time picnic we wandered into a bar we were alerted to by some warbling karaoke drifting out of a window. It was quite busy for a Wednesday night, but we were tired and hungover from New Orleans, so just had the one before leaving for bed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Natchez-Vidalia bridge which spans the Mississippi.</td></tr>
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The next morning we followed the Natchez Trace Parkway north through ancient woodland. It's a slow road, limited to 50mph, and snakes through forests and historic sites, and runs for 444 miles from Natchez to Nashville; though we wouldn't be riding it all the way. The autumn colours were awesome, though two weeks past their peak; and the sun was hidden behind clouds that morning and so the fall hues didn't shine to their potential. We stopped the car a few times, the first to see a type of earthen pyramid built by local Indian tribes about 500 years ago, it was some type of big ritual platform. The second stop was for the abandoned town of Rocky Springs. It was no longer a town, all that remained was the church which was still maintained by funds, everything else – barring a heavy safe from the Post Office and a brick well – was gone. We walked the trail through the woodland, hand-sized leaves whipped around in the wind like rain and fell at our feet, and we popped into the unlocked church. It had a nice piano which I played for five minutes; I don't know any songs but I can repeat a few chord shapes in different rhythms. Rocky Springs once had a population of over 2,000, but a number of events including the Civil War, disease and crop failure meant the town was now only marked by a small graveyard around an unused church.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church in Rocky Springs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The autumn colours needed to be lit by the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little marsh we passed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We left the Natchez Trace Parkway at Vicksburg, a town famous for a big Civil War battle. I wanted to go to a battle site museum, but the others wanted to push on to Leland to the home of Jim Henson to see a Muppet museum; a green cloth frog won over American history. We passed Redwood, Valley Park, Rolling Fork and signs for the magnificently named Yazoo City. Just outside the town of Anguilla, which was more a collection of rusted caravan trailers and neglected wooden bungalows, we stopped the car for a piss break once more. We purposefully stopped by an abandoned and overgrown house, so we could have a look. We'd driven past countless properties like these on our trip so far, but hand't been in one for a nose around; this was our opportunity. I tentatively climbed up on to the rotten porch, unsure if it would hold my weight or if there were gun-toting crackheads inside. There was no path through the weeds to the house though, so I assumed it didn't get many visitors. Inside was dust and dry decay. There was a rotten settee and bed mattress, and a few clothes clotted with time on the floor, it looked like the house of African Americans from the 1960s if I used historical racial profiling from the discarded material culture left inside. After a short explore, we got back on the road for Leland. We didn't find the Jim Henson museum, which was little bigger than a shed until just gone 4pm, a few minutes after it closed for the day, so we never did get to meet that green cloth frog or his pink slag. We had a little walk anyway along the river to stretch our legs, before settling back in the car: we had a four hour or more drive to reach Memphis, our target for the night. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
After leaving Leland we headed West towards Greenville, which felt like a small-town version of The Wire. The town was poor and run down, and seemed to be almost exclusively black. Men sat about on corners, at derelict gas stations, on porches of boarded up houses, doing nothing but sitting, and then staring when we made eye contact. It was odd, it felt a little dangerous and I didn't want to hang around; but I think it was the poverty I was afraid of, rather than any subconscious racism. At least I hope so. Anyway, the reason we headed West was to cross the Mississippi and drive through Arkansas, to tick another State off on the trip. We didn't see much of Arkansas as it was dark before we crossed the border. Visibility was reduced further by heavy rain and a hail storm, which made driving a bit more difficult. Ahead in the distance were a few flashes of brilliant purple lightning, which lit up the sky temporarily as if it were for sale, but we didn't get the close thunder storm we were hoping for. We drove through the dark, only passing Dumas, before reaching Pine Bluff, where we stopped for dinner. We went for a Chinese buffet, which was cheap and ok. A couple at a neighbouring table who'd heard our conversation, asked where we were from. We asked them to guess, and they said 'Sweden'. The fact our private conversation had been in English wasn't enough of a clue to suggest we were from one of a few English speaking countries, Sweden not being one of them. Their guess wasn't unusual however. All along the way when we asked people to guess, English wasn't the winning answer. Australian was the most popular guess from the Americans we encountered, but we also had people suggesting Germany or Finland. We're speaking the Queen's English, God's language, you fucking cretins. Anyway, the lady suggested we finished our lunch and get out of Arkansas, which I think was advice on account of there being little to do here, though it came across as more of a threat. We only stopped to eat twice in Arkansas, and both times we were given the same menacing advice: eat up, and get out. After our cheap Chinese dinner we left Pine Bluff and headed towards Little Rock, of which I only saw its night lights reflected in the low clouds, before continuing along Interstate 40 to arrive in Memphis sometime after 10pm. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHHxaplqm2Ox8j-z0eROjBWogDqtfcX2d8lWee0xUWqYvJZKwlRw6tRJQgHLxpaPXHpQ9TD22f4jVaB7l3q6pEaeyag2gbF270sNfZGIKzMMb6oYCy4cyRVeYHktAM0-Ub45jaMZA-JU/s1600/up+the+mississippi-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHHxaplqm2Ox8j-z0eROjBWogDqtfcX2d8lWee0xUWqYvJZKwlRw6tRJQgHLxpaPXHpQ9TD22f4jVaB7l3q6pEaeyag2gbF270sNfZGIKzMMb6oYCy4cyRVeYHktAM0-Ub45jaMZA-JU/s640/up+the+mississippi-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the backseat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgO1wk6aRWpgnTeWL5qzA5MzaR5BW8m7nEa6l8-ReroWD0R5DrFUUkN8F97fseRqTEBhV2_ZTx3H-5Sjv1dRpQgcnnoFwzd3yPwmyireN42ICg0Ksed29ugIiQmT3chk1gKI_kRm_MnQ/s1600/up+the+mississippi-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgO1wk6aRWpgnTeWL5qzA5MzaR5BW8m7nEa6l8-ReroWD0R5DrFUUkN8F97fseRqTEBhV2_ZTx3H-5Sjv1dRpQgcnnoFwzd3yPwmyireN42ICg0Ksed29ugIiQmT3chk1gKI_kRm_MnQ/s640/up+the+mississippi-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old house outside Anguilla.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKSOjUKpp1f0WyxLf6RzieoyFDTFzoHGePOlUdKUSr7S8-2dD5Q700GXLrNHxd7pUNtnI8sWc894L1XrKBpBNz0glBiNix_65iM4vKwbpJqSAbZFxmaw7KhAY5Q8YaY3Zlbz-dgP8obA/s1600/up+the+mississippi-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKSOjUKpp1f0WyxLf6RzieoyFDTFzoHGePOlUdKUSr7S8-2dD5Q700GXLrNHxd7pUNtnI8sWc894L1XrKBpBNz0glBiNix_65iM4vKwbpJqSAbZFxmaw7KhAY5Q8YaY3Zlbz-dgP8obA/s640/up+the+mississippi-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rotten settee.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqTDOgK5YmddOvEg_2R-PrQZBSiMLMc7Mei03CxkLswt1Q8RcSAXUiGnfKVZpAqMcNi48pCxHsg9LowPnnBhyjYZRIqMjzKf3utX3SKHc-6c6uL2-ayZJZ19-KfjXlyo1IaYRNyFJxSA/s1600/up+the+mississippi-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqTDOgK5YmddOvEg_2R-PrQZBSiMLMc7Mei03CxkLswt1Q8RcSAXUiGnfKVZpAqMcNi48pCxHsg9LowPnnBhyjYZRIqMjzKf3utX3SKHc-6c6uL2-ayZJZ19-KfjXlyo1IaYRNyFJxSA/s640/up+the+mississippi-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No one lives here anymore.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6Sb6bbwiFtyHNXlNR94R71q8sFzdiHkNYRza-Yhv-Pac2FURvmZst5TKrCdboGXZVyrbe7uMLClCUIUaXHZJ3BVyeie_qHBBozf9gU815BbRuP1ApnqCZeA4yLvICPD5iJ10-Gf1iOM/s1600/up+the+mississippi-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6Sb6bbwiFtyHNXlNR94R71q8sFzdiHkNYRza-Yhv-Pac2FURvmZst5TKrCdboGXZVyrbe7uMLClCUIUaXHZJ3BVyeie_qHBBozf9gU815BbRuP1ApnqCZeA4yLvICPD5iJ10-Gf1iOM/s640/up+the+mississippi-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sasquatch spotted. </td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7x8eSSnQ46qfJ6w7KTZG1Vp6adcibjJn3gyCm2fB_s8EDVXPAW6Xdp8FtazAOpNKxbJYNQ5tO_Hef6-bqzZGgAgPYR0HbbLySduRmEz2uCavCCRISkQsA-jZ6_MdxW19eemWg0VMZe5A/s1600/up+the+mississippi-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7x8eSSnQ46qfJ6w7KTZG1Vp6adcibjJn3gyCm2fB_s8EDVXPAW6Xdp8FtazAOpNKxbJYNQ5tO_Hef6-bqzZGgAgPYR0HbbLySduRmEz2uCavCCRISkQsA-jZ6_MdxW19eemWg0VMZe5A/s640/up+the+mississippi-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun goes down in Leland.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXl5skBqmjWdIbRzmbuw5JmEgkCZLKFD3j9sM3TX5PEZ1RyuIKGvjtP01oGXNNMBlvclClyQE-SyHB23Cs8hzDlhHB19E65UieSQsrE5_eAZEesLM7Klmb09QiU2aqnc808TpljUMds-s/s1600/up+the+mississippi-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXl5skBqmjWdIbRzmbuw5JmEgkCZLKFD3j9sM3TX5PEZ1RyuIKGvjtP01oGXNNMBlvclClyQE-SyHB23Cs8hzDlhHB19E65UieSQsrE5_eAZEesLM7Klmb09QiU2aqnc808TpljUMds-s/s640/up+the+mississippi-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The river behind the Jim Henson museum.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTt6_ojSqu8C89gw6k0LdraVgxEhzCBLegzMpnlmBSs3Hfs7tC_gFXZ0zMWBvuY_h6Y8X-xZhTOMEjth1gRHj0uLGlgeLaLMaPJ22BJYHRDiD3zehakrO_fgGA-QYzilA4d7BxFFzruBk/s1600/up+the+mississippi-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTt6_ojSqu8C89gw6k0LdraVgxEhzCBLegzMpnlmBSs3Hfs7tC_gFXZ0zMWBvuY_h6Y8X-xZhTOMEjth1gRHj0uLGlgeLaLMaPJ22BJYHRDiD3zehakrO_fgGA-QYzilA4d7BxFFzruBk/s640/up+the+mississippi-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the wheel.</td></tr>
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In the morning in Memphis we went for breakfast at a Waffle House, a chain I had seen along the way and had also been recommended by my friend Mike. Waffle House was great, the food was a top diner breakfast; bacon, hashbrowns which is more like fried grated potato than our version, and waffles with syrup, as well as unlimited coffee. The staff were so much fun and we bantered around with them, they were full of evangelical enthusiasm and energy. They gave us silly paper hats to wear, and some other customers wanted to take a picture of us, such an anomaly we were. After the delights of the Waffle House, we went to the Martin Luther King museum, which is morbidly housed in both the motel he was staying at when he died, and the building from which the fatal shot was fired. I didn't know much about his death, so fed my brain with some information, though I still hungered for more. It didn't come in the museum – they never said what happened to the killer after he was caught and convicted – but I'm sure Wikipedia has the answer.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT955AoZ1QK2tAiAhx9BqOKGhvLxjhxDbPEWx-SCklOJ42KTK4hYf4AQmnEusu-I3y6j7LFbNZoKvSRcZxZ6_3I141e4q9vr-LfR3dXvXjd_q27wxU65iojxc7ipVj3fwK-jJGufTnPk/s1600/waffle+house-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT955AoZ1QK2tAiAhx9BqOKGhvLxjhxDbPEWx-SCklOJ42KTK4hYf4AQmnEusu-I3y6j7LFbNZoKvSRcZxZ6_3I141e4q9vr-LfR3dXvXjd_q27wxU65iojxc7ipVj3fwK-jJGufTnPk/s640/waffle+house-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick phone pic of the Waffle House staff.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8xYaLemwKCjeBsU2EA6OxnCZ2vf3EBjvmVwikTwNeNPIX0Z-muv0pS3MBN2HFpuoaaVopV5PH1xB36BBMX7L3YrLSxoq_b_-WqphYKxT6k6u8S2unQUstHx5tvBp8k0M7XA18j0tzWI/s1600/up+the+mississippi-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8xYaLemwKCjeBsU2EA6OxnCZ2vf3EBjvmVwikTwNeNPIX0Z-muv0pS3MBN2HFpuoaaVopV5PH1xB36BBMX7L3YrLSxoq_b_-WqphYKxT6k6u8S2unQUstHx5tvBp8k0M7XA18j0tzWI/s640/up+the+mississippi-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The balcony where Dr Martin Luther King died.</td></tr>
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We then headed over to Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. Upon arriving we ummed and ahhed whether we wanted to pay the $33 entry, as none of us gave two shits about Elvis, but decided we should as we'd unlikely be here again. We took the audio tour around his house, which was awfully gaudy and not that big considering how rich he was. I know people with bigger houses, and more tastefully decorated; they don't have the title of King though. The house was full of mirrors, which I guess only speaks of his vanity. It was quite interesting though, they had a corridor of all his gold discs – records which had sold over a million copies – remarkable really. We weren't allowed upstairs 'out of respect', but I could buy a pair of pants with his face on it in the gift shop. I only wanted to see the shitter on which he died, and do a trousers-round-the-ankles selfie. No such luck. After finishing the tour I drove us to a gun range, as I wanted to have a go with a handgun. When the guy asked me of my experience, I was honest and my lack of it meant I couldn't be unsupervised, and there was no one there who could supervise me. I should've lied to get the gun, so I didn't get to shoot.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLwBaDbj1dF0akWxozdfcCLICuDaBDYF7s6sxHvL6_Oe_SxFOnMaXP-yGokpwtwkCRRG1iBvESm46-qnipvRhTIBaqXfHuK9sMAfZ20bc6wLfF4OpGMbLzATWnnDX-0fS9B-Rx5W1vIE/s1600/up+the+mississippi-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLwBaDbj1dF0akWxozdfcCLICuDaBDYF7s6sxHvL6_Oe_SxFOnMaXP-yGokpwtwkCRRG1iBvESm46-qnipvRhTIBaqXfHuK9sMAfZ20bc6wLfF4OpGMbLzATWnnDX-0fS9B-Rx5W1vIE/s640/up+the+mississippi-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graceland</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTr9tqusgrG3OyKPHBJj0BkfShWZ3FjMkaX4Qj_w7toYLJCAZfNSHP2wIUG9RMogz4mTLH1df-_hZUQDGDMt6lQMqzR6Z9W0uZT_EJh9un2b-N1iDZcSrxThv-lKB3GZo0Y0x4MOnaeM/s1600/up+the+mississippi-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTr9tqusgrG3OyKPHBJj0BkfShWZ3FjMkaX4Qj_w7toYLJCAZfNSHP2wIUG9RMogz4mTLH1df-_hZUQDGDMt6lQMqzR6Z9W0uZT_EJh9un2b-N1iDZcSrxThv-lKB3GZo0Y0x4MOnaeM/s640/up+the+mississippi-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elvis' living room. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1GYn0s0JmyeDAbmk4KDHUq2o286dFmQQ2RhtQTCwTrQ8qm0KQFwc1BuRXYqw1GHPj83N0ifEDNJEvWFkfyMU7EPnmGJY_KiUFQKm-NmR1R-UcpAv3TiGxeA2usmg80T4g-BNvjBh4qw/s1600/up+the+mississippi-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1GYn0s0JmyeDAbmk4KDHUq2o286dFmQQ2RhtQTCwTrQ8qm0KQFwc1BuRXYqw1GHPj83N0ifEDNJEvWFkfyMU7EPnmGJY_KiUFQKm-NmR1R-UcpAv3TiGxeA2usmg80T4g-BNvjBh4qw/s640/up+the+mississippi-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A second Christmas tree – now that's just showing off. I don't know who the presents are for; Elvis is dead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6omkHY_NIibMMl-wynApnWBJ7ElKBGdluvEkZWFR6Aii2v4ujNdqSIiwimUN_urlm-ZZ493mKwtGDiP1xic0vLcL2cH1nhvK0oaavpLFAs0D0ZU9M2_dLNQPPvL44QAl-uj2SS9ydSHo/s1600/up+the+mississippi-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6omkHY_NIibMMl-wynApnWBJ7ElKBGdluvEkZWFR6Aii2v4ujNdqSIiwimUN_urlm-ZZ493mKwtGDiP1xic0vLcL2cH1nhvK0oaavpLFAs0D0ZU9M2_dLNQPPvL44QAl-uj2SS9ydSHo/s640/up+the+mississippi-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elvis' pool room gave hints of psychedelic abuse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjt1cwpa07tSq4FIZhyw7PeIGzq6VABiYI7Eeoy6yyaYgknX9eLNEk_qBBmOC9eGIpGQmwGcMOBAJUAuw0cASuI4xyZEXhnN8ZQHqy1PWCkku5YbJ-NFAggtKA2ik9trqzJKa8xdIGdXo/s1600/up+the+mississippi-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjt1cwpa07tSq4FIZhyw7PeIGzq6VABiYI7Eeoy6yyaYgknX9eLNEk_qBBmOC9eGIpGQmwGcMOBAJUAuw0cASuI4xyZEXhnN8ZQHqy1PWCkku5YbJ-NFAggtKA2ik9trqzJKa8xdIGdXo/s640/up+the+mississippi-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halfway along the gold disc corridor.</td></tr>
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Our final night was spent in Nashville. We'd checked into a Scottish Inn motel as the Best Western was about $250. Don't ever stay in a Scottish Inn. The clue should've been in the name but it wasn't much better than a crack den. We took a cab into town and hit up the bars on Broadway. In the first bar we went in, Matt bumped into his old boss, from when he used to work in California. Small world, hey. We went to a couple of bars with his old boss, Eric, and his brother-in-law, Joe; who was well in his 50s but was pacing around every bar with excitement. They were decent company, and they showed us a few of the main bars, all of which had live music, a cross between country and rock, but it was all good. We met one old bloke in a bar who wondered where we were from. His best guess was Finland, as he'd once seen a programme about a guy who went on a motorbike from Finland to Alaska. Since that was possible, he reasoned we must've done the same thing. We told him we weren't from Finland, but a good distance away, and actually lived not far from London. He said he had heard of London, but admitted he didn't know where it was or what country it was in. Fuck me. "Aaahhm fruum Mis'ippi" he kept saying, as a line of defence. Actually, perhaps being from Mississippi is a valid excuse for ignorance. Anyway, the night was drunk and fun. We chatted to quite a few locals, some enthusiastic about us being English, others couldn't care less, and rightly so. The girls in Nashville were probably the prettiest of everywhere we'd been. They had that country-rock chick vibe going on, with red lipstick and curves like 1940s Hollywood stars. The kind of girls that make you say 'oh my God' out loud as they go by, a wonderful assembly of DNA. I had some good conversations with a few, but that was as far as it went, and come closing time we were ready for a taxi back to our shit-hole motel and a drunken pass-out after throwing up in a stained toilet.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0sSgGTsZ-Q2bRVfgJsKMfdRVmavk92LLTPX17pxzWmFx4rT5JaXqf2bbvDmm8A4Kz33VgpFWUrVlEZdcX5KzgcDoFjAj2n-TZogPXleKottq3dNgVp8EANl2FuYqqWdScwo7-22dPBs/s1600/up+the+mississippi-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0sSgGTsZ-Q2bRVfgJsKMfdRVmavk92LLTPX17pxzWmFx4rT5JaXqf2bbvDmm8A4Kz33VgpFWUrVlEZdcX5KzgcDoFjAj2n-TZogPXleKottq3dNgVp8EANl2FuYqqWdScwo7-22dPBs/s640/up+the+mississippi-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert's on Broadway, Nashville.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYme4HyjRQ0VNLXnwFYjSWNMateb_ekNzf9z1mxfSyNOnJbqIbW2DuqgWYvJ2fWQDChAimMDsnX98ufHg2KSWRBpBpBSn5W4NbtOpf4yMv3Cx6_c5H_uv8PDHB2pM_Izcjxj2FwN9j2Q/s1600/up+the+mississippi-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYme4HyjRQ0VNLXnwFYjSWNMateb_ekNzf9z1mxfSyNOnJbqIbW2DuqgWYvJ2fWQDChAimMDsnX98ufHg2KSWRBpBpBSn5W4NbtOpf4yMv3Cx6_c5H_uv8PDHB2pM_Izcjxj2FwN9j2Q/s640/up+the+mississippi-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Busy bar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhLAcyHDUdnJTiBPkW2lzotqVZoqek-hSnTu47j6CpfMKvWrqH6F9ZMp-TguiXZe_r-1BVCfDbQce1qbGBli_AcwpO5KhWHi_YMucXAwmaZ1Kuz_teAtsDTe9tIP34Wi81O_GmrWd334/s1600/up+the+mississippi-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhLAcyHDUdnJTiBPkW2lzotqVZoqek-hSnTu47j6CpfMKvWrqH6F9ZMp-TguiXZe_r-1BVCfDbQce1qbGBli_AcwpO5KhWHi_YMucXAwmaZ1Kuz_teAtsDTe9tIP34Wi81O_GmrWd334/s640/up+the+mississippi-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Music city.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDOpDl7fyR_Sr1MUDF9JcH7aPfLy9FgZNHuIN8WeVjH5YgguGseQP5q-xoiEuyPQDpH7N6Ftlb3QmJNk5HHmnpyIsxReklpmsJqDoNcU5W29SW3iQY7tSW6vkZ4u0Z6fC4jq39dIi3Zc/s1600/up+the+mississippi-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDOpDl7fyR_Sr1MUDF9JcH7aPfLy9FgZNHuIN8WeVjH5YgguGseQP5q-xoiEuyPQDpH7N6Ftlb3QmJNk5HHmnpyIsxReklpmsJqDoNcU5W29SW3iQY7tSW6vkZ4u0Z6fC4jq39dIi3Zc/s640/up+the+mississippi-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Live music everywhere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfsuTsD2IzaJWKuNlewtPtNWkeznYBXxCrrdizS3wEFNqqFdIg2M-X7UsOokT9-fU8uESem0NIjZe6ACuJljoZsDasvzrjsmufZ_WhOeHsB_1Y4yvH8wkel-YecaRTfMtvIbde50RArk/s1600/up+the+mississippi-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfsuTsD2IzaJWKuNlewtPtNWkeznYBXxCrrdizS3wEFNqqFdIg2M-X7UsOokT9-fU8uESem0NIjZe6ACuJljoZsDasvzrjsmufZ_WhOeHsB_1Y4yvH8wkel-YecaRTfMtvIbde50RArk/s640/up+the+mississippi-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Broadway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHc9HA9U3my70aBFZwF42OprKUWPzO_r03EvfT452phMmPDWIMKviXLHLoXVicIzh1MATphsFDwc0SX7OS7a0OXL3cn_6VTbcQmXKFsojkbFPI0T8U_GSYONPzJnAYPh_Vb0syzOUwQo/s1600/up+the+mississippi-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHc9HA9U3my70aBFZwF42OprKUWPzO_r03EvfT452phMmPDWIMKviXLHLoXVicIzh1MATphsFDwc0SX7OS7a0OXL3cn_6VTbcQmXKFsojkbFPI0T8U_GSYONPzJnAYPh_Vb0syzOUwQo/s640/up+the+mississippi-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the girls of Nashville.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOQRBvMMapQI-eY8IWKulb6LRyy6mfzrdk4BtnIf5mfDufNlQZQe04zoc761UHGuP52sKcyCk_flMj52q3z4lx3Ilkhyphenhyphen-7epmlB-FEgA8d4ywZL0yXKNTVNhMNyksn9yOCAOHLu8IyPI/s1600/up+the+mississippi-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOQRBvMMapQI-eY8IWKulb6LRyy6mfzrdk4BtnIf5mfDufNlQZQe04zoc761UHGuP52sKcyCk_flMj52q3z4lx3Ilkhyphenhyphen-7epmlB-FEgA8d4ywZL0yXKNTVNhMNyksn9yOCAOHLu8IyPI/s640/up+the+mississippi-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From a balcony in Honky Tonk looking towards some bars.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqk2ZPQO7n1tpxYF2NABYSAP5-cboTHiM91KVJ8c5SDEAaOZu7ydWksaoPgwwJa3WMpSAoJ2x4qbMxTPTz3HtQlbzO-CNnIVzP5RHjBiPPEMCaj-dohF8K9cl3gNdM_zs-WBgHl_-yPM/s1600/up+the+mississippi-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqk2ZPQO7n1tpxYF2NABYSAP5-cboTHiM91KVJ8c5SDEAaOZu7ydWksaoPgwwJa3WMpSAoJ2x4qbMxTPTz3HtQlbzO-CNnIVzP5RHjBiPPEMCaj-dohF8K9cl3gNdM_zs-WBgHl_-yPM/s640/up+the+mississippi-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt and Mark with Eric and Joe, our buddies for a bit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctQI2C452_zsLvlSYTOBQ32-FNy3bwk00FoBAwaqgNxCKP-CxReIIeHF2g7a3aLyWBxEUuEQ5Brfc73r1QhAAmrqrezvOzPig9XZoCKW53i6W2QEqNS-gc1Q_z72YmSTPa3AMF69WwrI/s1600/up+the+mississippi-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctQI2C452_zsLvlSYTOBQ32-FNy3bwk00FoBAwaqgNxCKP-CxReIIeHF2g7a3aLyWBxEUuEQ5Brfc73r1QhAAmrqrezvOzPig9XZoCKW53i6W2QEqNS-gc1Q_z72YmSTPa3AMF69WwrI/s640/up+the+mississippi-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside The Stage, a popular country venue.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsG3OsiEIP9O-uAg73zQtTs1URuJ-1ttdwBDO9o7Qi5NKbhQSgsBC3Dmi2qLSJ7nc4afjBR3KBBuLY0TEPjF5jLom3ActLUS6LTAgxYs0SXzpsfZ40rlKUPR5eqlnnqmsz1_eeqtOl3U/s1600/up+the+mississippi-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsG3OsiEIP9O-uAg73zQtTs1URuJ-1ttdwBDO9o7Qi5NKbhQSgsBC3Dmi2qLSJ7nc4afjBR3KBBuLY0TEPjF5jLom3ActLUS6LTAgxYs0SXzpsfZ40rlKUPR5eqlnnqmsz1_eeqtOl3U/s640/up+the+mississippi-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oi Matt, that's not our car, mate.</td></tr>
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The next morning we slept in a bit, and decided to delay taking the car back and take the financial hit, or else we'd have to sit around at the airport doing nothing for hours. We went to brunch at Logan's Roadhouse. I had an enormous rack of ribs, which I almost finished. Afterwards we went for a walk around a nice but chilly park, and looked at some Parthenon, a full scale replica of the one in ancient Greece, except this was built in 1897 as part of the Tennessee Centennial Exposition<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">. </span></span>Come mid-afternoon it was time to head to the airport and return the car, which was incredibly easy and bureaucracy free. We'd clocked up 3396 miles while driving in 10 states, more than the distance from New York to LA; and I'd taken 3974 photographs along the way. Driving across America had been a dream of mine for a while. Now that I've done it, I just want to do it again.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECQgB7Mn0ALi56Ygg3M2Ppozhebwq-3vj-k7uqiQTN25c7YyvMdtomghth2M7iZ3smmrtjGEMMgGIe5_C3ZdreCimy2e76hHEEqCYQMBmUov85oQLkPTSabAR3wVv7TujGjqjGgHklrg/s1600/up+the+mississippi-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECQgB7Mn0ALi56Ygg3M2Ppozhebwq-3vj-k7uqiQTN25c7YyvMdtomghth2M7iZ3smmrtjGEMMgGIe5_C3ZdreCimy2e76hHEEqCYQMBmUov85oQLkPTSabAR3wVv7TujGjqjGgHklrg/s640/up+the+mississippi-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking the car back to the airport, the last few miles of a 3396 mile road trip.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-12796458231975215512013-11-22T00:02:00.000-08:002013-11-22T00:03:25.357-08:00Louisiana: Swamps 'n Strippers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quaint town of Natchitoches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">
After reaching Shreveport, just inside Louisiana, we branched south on Interstate 49, and rode it through gentle forest until we reached the town of Natchitoches at dusk. The town was quaint and attractive, it had a certain southern charm, of older, more European buildings. The Christmas lights were already hanging over the main street and the shops were perfect for middle aged women – they sold expensive jams and kitsch kitchen utensils. We had a walk along the river and a piss in the park, and our legs were stretched enough to get back in the car as night straddled the road. We continued south, past Alexandria, Bunkie and Opelousas; before stopping in Lafayette for the night. We went to a restaurant which Mark had seen online, and served typical Cajun food. The menu was heavily swamp influenced, full of alligator, crayfish and other water creatures, but the food was delicious. I had alligator to start with which was pretty good, but opted for a steak for the main, with southern sides. There was a Cajun band playing, singing in a French I couldn't recognise let alone understand, but the tunes were good and it was a nice welcome to the south – the people seemed more polite too. We checked into a motel and crashed out after another long day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVCk4cu5aU9rbGqRVzmUPpwPg_3i_tHH6E5BjSMiUvLigoVhD-Xbjdgolj2xvxbljQNr65J6Zw8bKzF6ZyQDebcUPwrrR1LwkMiilSa6sMr9ey8ZaIBrGhvfdK5GL4GwIBnL4XyoAiEM/s1600/Louisiana-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVCk4cu5aU9rbGqRVzmUPpwPg_3i_tHH6E5BjSMiUvLigoVhD-Xbjdgolj2xvxbljQNr65J6Zw8bKzF6ZyQDebcUPwrrR1LwkMiilSa6sMr9ey8ZaIBrGhvfdK5GL4GwIBnL4XyoAiEM/s640/Louisiana-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found a Christmas fair shut for the day - you can have a photo with an alligator and then eat it!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The next morning we were discussing the plan for the day over breakfast, when the motel manager mentioned we could take a swamp trip, so after coffee and pastries headed there. We soon found the place – a big shack on stilts – and arranged ourselves a tour on an airboat, with Captain Buggsy. It was just the three of us on the trip, which was great, and our guide seemed like an old dude. We glided at speed over the water and lilies, and soon branched off down a creek that sometimes looked no more than a severely waterlogged field, but in fact the water and silt was probably a few feet deep, but it had dense vegetation floating on top. Big birds pushed off on long legs and flapped away as we sped closer, herons and things like that, and ducks splattered to take off as our noisy craft ventured deeper into the swamp. At times we stopped the engine, and sat there in silence. Everything was still, and the water reflected the trees erupting from the damp and the fresh morning sky.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">"Ain't it priiatay", said Captain Buggsy repeatedly, in his soft southern drawl. It was. He wanted to show us some alligators, and we wanted to see some; so we raced off across the swamp once more, and alongside the Interstate, which runs for miles and miles across the Louisiana wetlands on enormous concrete stilts, which is quite an impressive feat of engineering. We motored up another creek and we could see the nose and eye of an alligator, perhaps five or six feet long, but she soon disappeared, so instead we floated to the waters edge where the lilies were gathered, and nestled amongst the flowers and plants were a collection of infant alligators. The biggest were just under two foot long, and all sat lazily and carefree in the water, not too bothered by our obvious presence. We got some photos and enjoyment, before bombing back across the water towards the centre. It had been a nice morning out in nature.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just like Fenland: nice place for your caravan – in the swamp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHr-iRqOUcHrUlzxnKgFna4UWeQ0sK1ZUmk5p8BcF3Z_XjzeC4y2liHy6NsRfDuS8U8Fynr4nXIxBFyb_FqDR8zqlZ54JKoxa7gz-Q9XM_kM3FQo9egEqF0PjRo09eAxUqVxTB3ET0aM/s1600/Louisiana-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHr-iRqOUcHrUlzxnKgFna4UWeQ0sK1ZUmk5p8BcF3Z_XjzeC4y2liHy6NsRfDuS8U8Fynr4nXIxBFyb_FqDR8zqlZ54JKoxa7gz-Q9XM_kM3FQo9egEqF0PjRo09eAxUqVxTB3ET0aM/s640/Louisiana-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fisherman harvesting the swamp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QUR3NibvdGyj13f9YSebtdAlWbipu-iDsetfa6KnIYJL8Z4d8bSIOAiPfhBdrkiBVbgOmCbFDsVgFsXEggkIzCh6Xu6V0-QJgRzVTqvIx6dooGojHxl8h-58LUQfYybpHU0G6j8I4H4/s1600/Louisiana-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QUR3NibvdGyj13f9YSebtdAlWbipu-iDsetfa6KnIYJL8Z4d8bSIOAiPfhBdrkiBVbgOmCbFDsVgFsXEggkIzCh6Xu6V0-QJgRzVTqvIx6dooGojHxl8h-58LUQfYybpHU0G6j8I4H4/s640/Louisiana-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bow of our hovercraft.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrPhGPiC1g-POysXUiM1cztJUWBGnFIr-PRFTAVmpQJ6qW45Xeh8zQcwvPSQykU3pZ2O36TTgLgPTh0-Y6Iv0eqPyN-W5p4HZeG-0lOWxokbKE4vOlHqm5j8weve3LNa27JQbhUA0hRg/s1600/Louisiana-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrPhGPiC1g-POysXUiM1cztJUWBGnFIr-PRFTAVmpQJ6qW45Xeh8zQcwvPSQykU3pZ2O36TTgLgPTh0-Y6Iv0eqPyN-W5p4HZeG-0lOWxokbKE4vOlHqm5j8weve3LNa27JQbhUA0hRg/s640/Louisiana-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning swamp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVcRmJvIKjX8m_gZ_pWSTUCVKmvxeKg8OG2-ZxgGnFPeuaAAZ4u9hnJ1K5gpZm8lhVTGkQIvpDdF4CZGHNR2QCiS2IWncD6zrapUtwlVabNp82Jgj3IezfRpQVuNf3qZXqlbd8guyqYg/s1600/Louisiana-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVcRmJvIKjX8m_gZ_pWSTUCVKmvxeKg8OG2-ZxgGnFPeuaAAZ4u9hnJ1K5gpZm8lhVTGkQIvpDdF4CZGHNR2QCiS2IWncD6zrapUtwlVabNp82Jgj3IezfRpQVuNf3qZXqlbd8guyqYg/s640/Louisiana-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quite other worldly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WO1nksJ8iK3GS_4_0_6PEvbfrB867-q7g0fWQGRGeM9PhFifWaENPEn1XTX54EI5GC1-W5i_CuiIroO3bmxmTdrKULVqysEpRXop3RsVb9kE5fu6qxUM86BegFvm-yKQKcatt5jCyvU/s1600/Louisiana-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WO1nksJ8iK3GS_4_0_6PEvbfrB867-q7g0fWQGRGeM9PhFifWaENPEn1XTX54EI5GC1-W5i_CuiIroO3bmxmTdrKULVqysEpRXop3RsVb9kE5fu6qxUM86BegFvm-yKQKcatt5jCyvU/s640/Louisiana-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0yGfVb778DWYsSnM0rM8X99DcVFaiZXoYpC2CY2oiV5JkWTRb1D3GIO3ee9gxe7lMR2NTcVlIZv9gaDqIQHEI4aYBP8-FduS66QvHR0QttcQM7fOKsMas2XMyzzNfBWc6Vm20LQqbKs/s1600/Louisiana-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0yGfVb778DWYsSnM0rM8X99DcVFaiZXoYpC2CY2oiV5JkWTRb1D3GIO3ee9gxe7lMR2NTcVlIZv9gaDqIQHEI4aYBP8-FduS66QvHR0QttcQM7fOKsMas2XMyzzNfBWc6Vm20LQqbKs/s640/Louisiana-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More swamps.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYiCgPXiwJ9gU4rnWfJGATOR6vYc2CxaSa0OcvIqzIJHs4JlsbnrRBsU3SzIIiBOYYku0o1GmRE6IWEl8iSmeihIf0jKiRs0sgeU3X8aEAW4m80X2zBqLdZVb_fuyRbiU3PIQhGsJMZ8/s1600/Louisiana-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYiCgPXiwJ9gU4rnWfJGATOR6vYc2CxaSa0OcvIqzIJHs4JlsbnrRBsU3SzIIiBOYYku0o1GmRE6IWEl8iSmeihIf0jKiRs0sgeU3X8aEAW4m80X2zBqLdZVb_fuyRbiU3PIQhGsJMZ8/s640/Louisiana-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This area had been logged a long time ago. It's now protected.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgJN6AiHsrWxcI0H3bDFO1Dc_K7o1baVt3KijEw9MBozzN7-rk8H42kzSA5OwyKnrhM1LpOpmIW399ro9s0vQA2mUfethOF45wfdGSOPtXcbOel4sTPmPokivVLcmmt_FkP5uH-ryZwY/s1600/Louisiana-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgJN6AiHsrWxcI0H3bDFO1Dc_K7o1baVt3KijEw9MBozzN7-rk8H42kzSA5OwyKnrhM1LpOpmIW399ro9s0vQA2mUfethOF45wfdGSOPtXcbOel4sTPmPokivVLcmmt_FkP5uH-ryZwY/s640/Louisiana-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh morning skies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifahjbHz2ySsX8pZdE2NgFOm_9mgow6gJDljFyqPjwMQqJVpF_fRfXg25PT9-I3SwoHFgDroHaIg1_oWZDTtT-5BiE-NQ_t1Cei-9sHmgFACvCQ-hNmYAT91WujqRTknsSQ4MoA895_Ek/s1600/Louisiana-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifahjbHz2ySsX8pZdE2NgFOm_9mgow6gJDljFyqPjwMQqJVpF_fRfXg25PT9-I3SwoHFgDroHaIg1_oWZDTtT-5BiE-NQ_t1Cei-9sHmgFACvCQ-hNmYAT91WujqRTknsSQ4MoA895_Ek/s640/Louisiana-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby alligators are kinda cute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
We got back on the road and headed towards New Orleans, but stopped in Baton Rouge for lunch, at a chicken place called Pluckers, which was decent enough. The roads doubled in size once we hit New Orleans, as did the traffic, and I coasted through the city, past the skyline and famous Superdome, not knowing where I was going. We rode over an enormous and impressive bridge – there'd been a few good bridges on the trip so far – before asking the sat nav directions to a hotel. We went to a Best Western - these were becoming our preferred choice for being slightly nicer with slightly bigger beds, as we were taking it in turns to share two in a bed, it's not easy finding a room to accommodate three individuals. The hotel was right in the city centre, we were up on the 8th floor and it was the nicest we'd stayed in so far. After checking in, we headed straight out, and walked through a clean and vibrant town, and as always were fairly unsure of where we were going. We walked for 20 minutes before reaching Bourbon Street - the famous street of bars and entertainment. It was a Tuesday, and 5pm, so not that busy; but the first bar we came across was called Fritzels, and so of course had to stop for a drink. The owner looked like he had a few dark secrets, too. We moved on to the next bar along, which was playing music – jazz of course – and the charismatic frontman worked the middle aged crowd into a near fever. Everywhere we'd been had been middled aged, all the bars, all the entertainment. Vegas, Roswell, Fort Worth, Dallas, New Orleans. We were usually some of the youngest out, and we're no longer that young. Where do America's young people go? Anyway, we continued working our way through the bars, all hosting live and fantastic music, all with middle aged people dancing, mostly a form of adapted line dancing, just stopping for a drink in each. We were soon getting tipsy however, but we agreed it was a much more fun city than Vegas already. </div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOPsHXGWyEco6tGkmPvOSKKWZv4c3kEcha49rcSSSLCmbri9xWbFgi6gzs0N8xVMTDcfHSw71Lmt47EQ8nZdGYc7GgNtCv2MVSP7slxiaP7QkLqR3ozQaaMiFYKlRpHeoez-oNd8wNm0/s1600/Louisiana-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOPsHXGWyEco6tGkmPvOSKKWZv4c3kEcha49rcSSSLCmbri9xWbFgi6gzs0N8xVMTDcfHSw71Lmt47EQ8nZdGYc7GgNtCv2MVSP7slxiaP7QkLqR3ozQaaMiFYKlRpHeoez-oNd8wNm0/s640/Louisiana-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving towards Baton Rouge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8ud7vFbq9tuirAc_qazwQTf_VV_F_r-thIwxRDB-NM7G2-0EtBwcgiXKmYYk6zns3UlSMdgRF-9SVrJ7avzBKDZmEuDTw94QRW4_B4Esmftjo1OHejL6Fk_BhakhkuW3ixz4ab6Mgmk/s1600/Louisiana-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8ud7vFbq9tuirAc_qazwQTf_VV_F_r-thIwxRDB-NM7G2-0EtBwcgiXKmYYk6zns3UlSMdgRF-9SVrJ7avzBKDZmEuDTw94QRW4_B4Esmftjo1OHejL6Fk_BhakhkuW3ixz4ab6Mgmk/s640/Louisiana-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Orleans felt more European.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NMe5kChrrNocEBvhIYuUFYCTemvMRvZOzEzHV2eAZ_eIIbvmuEnlO9ribvNjklp9-puLV17zd1Bl-ej2IW1eoX2XZlzC-2EWjBXyMhFUa3i4uZpagLqERkx2ESYJZaRBtqKaWqmLOEg/s1600/Louisiana-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NMe5kChrrNocEBvhIYuUFYCTemvMRvZOzEzHV2eAZ_eIIbvmuEnlO9ribvNjklp9-puLV17zd1Bl-ej2IW1eoX2XZlzC-2EWjBXyMhFUa3i4uZpagLqERkx2ESYJZaRBtqKaWqmLOEg/s640/Louisiana-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking towards Bourbon Street.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxDqADTM6ja7zgFdVSjNGaalhFMwZCsGWCccX4KMPtWLii0_Wr1ybrq3uQ_7HZg7R-Aunb-3zjVe6p6Y_ZIO5TZmO8VpDgllMYYvk6U2VtqRE0tZH8u0LBGtZx_8_WncspALr9lcrwBI/s1600/Louisiana-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxDqADTM6ja7zgFdVSjNGaalhFMwZCsGWCccX4KMPtWLii0_Wr1ybrq3uQ_7HZg7R-Aunb-3zjVe6p6Y_ZIO5TZmO8VpDgllMYYvk6U2VtqRE0tZH8u0LBGtZx_8_WncspALr9lcrwBI/s640/Louisiana-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Fritzel's bar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEev87uqeTxUuhluuqrTDnCf9tyrjtNomEI9oJW0NrStuTyElrVSjublWw4dhLnygnXWf1rjz6g6-Kk88wH5g4cgds32VwOBcG3k2dR5ISRKV5GXKRPGUtDvjHuKnhTykjHJRmGtUkRs/s1600/Louisiana-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEev87uqeTxUuhluuqrTDnCf9tyrjtNomEI9oJW0NrStuTyElrVSjublWw4dhLnygnXWf1rjz6g6-Kk88wH5g4cgds32VwOBcG3k2dR5ISRKV5GXKRPGUtDvjHuKnhTykjHJRmGtUkRs/s640/Louisiana-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bourbon Street at dusk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSXS_ue1b0Z7agvJgShEe7h2lXIb5wNIOeC6WCfRW86pYSHiqKQxB7MidPHp0exD6LVO5hhtC5yah7DYEiEnoSGsgdhxzWAbj-nyIWs1WezfEtoiH0YFEcv0mD4lA6Cs6FoIlPBTwGMQ/s1600/Louisiana-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSXS_ue1b0Z7agvJgShEe7h2lXIb5wNIOeC6WCfRW86pYSHiqKQxB7MidPHp0exD6LVO5hhtC5yah7DYEiEnoSGsgdhxzWAbj-nyIWs1WezfEtoiH0YFEcv0mD4lA6Cs6FoIlPBTwGMQ/s640/Louisiana-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blowing some jazz.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcelI4ru1Tm8FNCbc542o3Vgth-VceEfbz5uZTYVvn52Nb3C7fQufdewCm9oKpV5fUlhe0sRKezA_ekVRXVEe5tKXsjFiqnePmWgCAK-EdZiUIE2PQJtWjIqtjFeEy-6onCnMP8QiasGQ/s1600/Louisiana-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcelI4ru1Tm8FNCbc542o3Vgth-VceEfbz5uZTYVvn52Nb3C7fQufdewCm9oKpV5fUlhe0sRKezA_ekVRXVEe5tKXsjFiqnePmWgCAK-EdZiUIE2PQJtWjIqtjFeEy-6onCnMP8QiasGQ/s640/Louisiana-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The man had some lungs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlj5qoNO23VlLlzvwzFnjgZxVo86R7_I-xpV5hfKaFfZCjai2naN__YqOG_ewa32PjYp0WUvpXKjkvcyejHHmPtTZW16_uuxfMAzMSphLE1dtNqm1zrRWh5AnPJ9kWMXSfRwCwK-SNa0/s1600/Louisiana-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlj5qoNO23VlLlzvwzFnjgZxVo86R7_I-xpV5hfKaFfZCjai2naN__YqOG_ewa32PjYp0WUvpXKjkvcyejHHmPtTZW16_uuxfMAzMSphLE1dtNqm1zrRWh5AnPJ9kWMXSfRwCwK-SNa0/s640/Louisiana-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old people dancing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWuSHoPpZTFLuAdxzVPeT61dCGTykZwE7MfyX3XJdZVay7MUW8H4WWuHCq6PJ1m-Egl9PBjsBeA_1maJJCqyN1q86VOfhjVj7b5MfSso3YCgfafKCGJ6WRNGv2VRT-H-pQPJwLsPNQPM/s1600/Louisiana-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWuSHoPpZTFLuAdxzVPeT61dCGTykZwE7MfyX3XJdZVay7MUW8H4WWuHCq6PJ1m-Egl9PBjsBeA_1maJJCqyN1q86VOfhjVj7b5MfSso3YCgfafKCGJ6WRNGv2VRT-H-pQPJwLsPNQPM/s640/Louisiana-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt and Mark getting drunk.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">We continued down the street in the same vein, until the music bars ran out and all seemed to be replaced with strip bars. We had no idea New Orleans and Bourbon Street had a prominent strip club scene, but it appeared so. Egged on by alcohol and each others masculinity, we ventured inside one. Alright, we didn't need that much encouragement with the offer of two-for-one beers and tits on show, so continued our drinking here. In the first one, an attractive girl danced on the stage for one song before slinking off again, while a bored and boring, gormless mum of three sat in her underwear and tried chatting to us. We weren't interested, and neither was she, but I chatted with her lightly to keep the awkwardness from becoming overbearing. We finished our beers and left, before venturing in the next one. This pattern pretty much repeated itself for an hour or so, until we were pretty drunk and getting bored of tits and tattoos. We decided to leave, and head off in search of culture once more. We took a cab to Frenchmen Street, which I was told was where the locals go, and where you can find a more genuine New Orleans, or Nawlins, experience. We arrived in one large bar with some great live and energetic jazz, and got ourselves a position at the bar. We chatted to one lone woman about our age, who turned out to be the manager on her night off, and she recommended a local drink – some kind of whiskey cocktail. It was pretty strong, and I was already quite drunk, but managed to drink it before deciding to get up and join the crowd on the dance floor. As soon as we reached the floor to feel the rhythm, the band played their final bar of the night and thanked the crowd. I laughed. We then left to find some food, there didn't seem to be many choices but found one place with a small menu. We had some unsatisfying drunk food, I had a pitta pizza, and scoffed it at the bar. We got chatting to two American girls from Massachusetts, a bit younger than us, but also on a road trip driving across country. These were the first people we'd met doing a similar thing to us. They were fun and we got on well. One had a very strong Boston accent and swore a lot; she was confident to the borders of aggression, but I was drunk enough to argue for entertainments sake, and beat her in arm wrestles she was convinced she would win. Matt lost to her; I don't know if he let her or not. They were bored of jazz and wanted to go to the strip clubs on Bourbon Street, and although I genuinely would've preferred to explore the late night music venues up in this old and local part of town, my drunk self said 'fuck it' and the five of us walked back to the more touristy area, and into one of the titty bars. Our Boston friends were really enjoying it, popping dollar bills under the working girls elastic, and continuing to get drunk. We spent another hour or so here, getting really wasted by now, before boredom and exhaustion set in, and we set off for home. We'd been drinking solidly for about 11 hours and barely eaten, and bed was calling. We were both staying in the Best Western, so walked back together. The more lairy of the two kept stopping to talk to people, late night street people, and was slowing us down, so I kept getting sent back to pick her up and hoist her forwards, to keep our march going. We got to the hotel, and it turned out we were in a different Best Western, so we needed to take a taxi from there to ours, which was only a short ride away, and then we drunkenly collapsed into bed.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOQOqIL11A0ZneADSGFVj3Zjn6sG5PGOaN8KRmb8b3nvYbpCgvrIXQcmxSPUHgERa188KDTs0B6Njbo4g29bCDOXs-iwjtXU9q7AlbE2oGz767PIOo44I_GlRcVEEUnLRitroIHzxsKM/s1600/Louisiana-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOQOqIL11A0ZneADSGFVj3Zjn6sG5PGOaN8KRmb8b3nvYbpCgvrIXQcmxSPUHgERa188KDTs0B6Njbo4g29bCDOXs-iwjtXU9q7AlbE2oGz767PIOo44I_GlRcVEEUnLRitroIHzxsKM/s640/Louisiana-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the Boston girls ended up lying on stage, under a stripper.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPyTm7y9a9U1rkJUVN8NuYguBsu9G4IVyNcBfcmxvGJENkp-8u2pBBphtK540zFJA3K8Tn9INoEJJXsjWnLjxC5PRuuiT62BO6F91mVqyCu0R60-d3FOa2nbDgbnn0yxGIz-kVeklMko/s1600/Louisiana-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPyTm7y9a9U1rkJUVN8NuYguBsu9G4IVyNcBfcmxvGJENkp-8u2pBBphtK540zFJA3K8Tn9INoEJJXsjWnLjxC5PRuuiT62BO6F91mVqyCu0R60-d3FOa2nbDgbnn0yxGIz-kVeklMko/s640/Louisiana-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously no cameras were allowed in the club.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj_r5991IvamNkm8Ea-Syxv3GQJLtMpLLABT-df8tanLwqM8E3lWpi8F0324rzGzd1JcIWsg5epj_jb8z-jgkEF14RZlveZ7N6pFSsZvUlx4ybXhFP2Y7T7NhfPsslArfX9j050SQKYI/s1600/Louisiana-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj_r5991IvamNkm8Ea-Syxv3GQJLtMpLLABT-df8tanLwqM8E3lWpi8F0324rzGzd1JcIWsg5epj_jb8z-jgkEF14RZlveZ7N6pFSsZvUlx4ybXhFP2Y7T7NhfPsslArfX9j050SQKYI/s640/Louisiana-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drunken street people.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The following morning wasn't entirely pretty, but it wasn't that ugly either. After a gradual awakening, we got showered and dressed and went out in search of food. We sat in the sun by the Mississippi River, and had calamari, jambalaya and a chicken caesar salad. All of them were excellent. We had a little wander around town, drifted through some souvenir shops, and walked up to Jackson Square in the French Quarter, just in front of St Louis Cathedral. We sat on a bench and let the sun burn off our hangovers further. In front of the cathedral were a gathering of musicians blaring out brass tunes, as well as a collection of fortune tellers and mystics. We walked past one tarot guy, who looked a magnificent slob and was staring vacantly into space with his mouth ajar. His name was 'Angelic Jeffy' and Mark decided he would get his fortune read. None of us go in for that mystic shit and Mark was clearly taking the piss, without it bordering on offensive, and I sat and listened and tried not to giggle. He was clearly a chancer, I mean, they all are, but Angelic Jeffy struggled to be convincing. Somehow though part of me was sucked in, and I thought I'd get my fortune read, so chose a scraggy gypsy woman with teeth like a vandalised graveyard. She was actually pretty good, she managed to be convincing, and got quite a few things pretty damn accurate, but that's the skill in the trick they pull I guess. It's all horseshit, but it was a fun experience.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRq03vzL4hslPsi0ssQB79Lug-ZKbX-rRDcqgf7UUcTL8McFi5t8Oh91W5DqPSjXjw3cy5G95b_IM0MJ87BkJfoBXK4NwLKsjOnrrL0W3byKZsGyYxU3KXW5pLGbW_MEjS5VOqb35rGaw/s1600/Louisiana-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRq03vzL4hslPsi0ssQB79Lug-ZKbX-rRDcqgf7UUcTL8McFi5t8Oh91W5DqPSjXjw3cy5G95b_IM0MJ87BkJfoBXK4NwLKsjOnrrL0W3byKZsGyYxU3KXW5pLGbW_MEjS5VOqb35rGaw/s640/Louisiana-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A boat on the Mississippi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RyNycxdCEkQ6HCb3086LfhV-3RCnN08XqIlKq2xl64J00N7QgSo9yJMhHUJR32KsgdX6CC4m_3cFkdeP7PVOoQMhkjGxDplyhInbzUBJoqIlPNGmWmauzbRPnfY7kW39RFMwALmi5wM/s1600/Louisiana-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RyNycxdCEkQ6HCb3086LfhV-3RCnN08XqIlKq2xl64J00N7QgSo9yJMhHUJR32KsgdX6CC4m_3cFkdeP7PVOoQMhkjGxDplyhInbzUBJoqIlPNGmWmauzbRPnfY7kW39RFMwALmi5wM/s640/Louisiana-30.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cool old couple who'd just got married.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vB7eiWjcvDy9-NTq_zbZQABIUZ1ln-c4mX_ACITVk_wRYAQeyfLAJWFHAMjLr5FHOfUP6KnYHSJUDyqzT0zlrBMPGKbo8QlAipK9aVHMdUm3daNE9wwuLZLLBqRtznf4KNCvhlLzdjo/s1600/Louisiana-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vB7eiWjcvDy9-NTq_zbZQABIUZ1ln-c4mX_ACITVk_wRYAQeyfLAJWFHAMjLr5FHOfUP6KnYHSJUDyqzT0zlrBMPGKbo8QlAipK9aVHMdUm3daNE9wwuLZLLBqRtznf4KNCvhlLzdjo/s640/Louisiana-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street artists.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Eqt59TC8z6mMZpOHFvZVpmkd_Bnk7vhUd1hy-Cj9FO_DvcRgStVByyigWkGqGfbDaH13M8pYu7FXNTljNjbLiVnUFSP147PEF_3ZcGMZc7dHLpwFYRrHNC5FxrOP6CTHeO2mfbeqCus/s1600/Louisiana-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Eqt59TC8z6mMZpOHFvZVpmkd_Bnk7vhUd1hy-Cj9FO_DvcRgStVByyigWkGqGfbDaH13M8pYu7FXNTljNjbLiVnUFSP147PEF_3ZcGMZc7dHLpwFYRrHNC5FxrOP6CTHeO2mfbeqCus/s640/Louisiana-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackson Square and St Louis Cathedral.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhooRjiBLnCh2puI1aizn9LvBOXk4wonHVkp2s3mzxP6PLvxBLwjoBpamH0Hpf4PKEUMikLFnz1kLqBpGD_HSvjCv2WGMXg95E8JMlPicWhk6xDzjoqEdvsiZ2vf9XkIoBy6sClrkKf5oo/s1600/Louisiana-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhooRjiBLnCh2puI1aizn9LvBOXk4wonHVkp2s3mzxP6PLvxBLwjoBpamH0Hpf4PKEUMikLFnz1kLqBpGD_HSvjCv2WGMXg95E8JMlPicWhk6xDzjoqEdvsiZ2vf9XkIoBy6sClrkKf5oo/s640/Louisiana-33.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark and Angelic Jeffy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YRgqEOtFwxohYUMZbQ3Xp91bH3CHXeoSI4IW3eOG0-S3M7qGjAdt5S7pyyVBrOX9j-96mpXSkkB0w4DB1mMV4NYK97IJIPyZndyfPPrwEhUWd_NKusTsfKLGQY7MXE5LXvlMhHiAUIk/s1600/Louisiana-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YRgqEOtFwxohYUMZbQ3Xp91bH3CHXeoSI4IW3eOG0-S3M7qGjAdt5S7pyyVBrOX9j-96mpXSkkB0w4DB1mMV4NYK97IJIPyZndyfPPrwEhUWd_NKusTsfKLGQY7MXE5LXvlMhHiAUIk/s640/Louisiana-34.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This man communicates with angels. They chose him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlfXw29C5Q8O-QeYvQVhdeoDoHbOWFsHbK2GMBEfVaOw0urUOxbdbodASgG-nte23iW7cVHD9ltGzLeAUux-GVc8klSOek5J-4zWl1nqXJrKKRQdiMzT80wKc3_Sp0DPI0nwscvRPPU8/s1600/Louisiana-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlfXw29C5Q8O-QeYvQVhdeoDoHbOWFsHbK2GMBEfVaOw0urUOxbdbodASgG-nte23iW7cVHD9ltGzLeAUux-GVc8klSOek5J-4zWl1nqXJrKKRQdiMzT80wKc3_Sp0DPI0nwscvRPPU8/s640/Louisiana-35.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A jazz band in the square.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWBKk97rz5_KUvSKoZwE086TmmNhqI6SDFIDR3asKe_BunRzYM1FXL-DFzM8i0u__77pK3LhTa3z5BJFU4bbzg0KkhkCfneyGU2Rp7jGJk6oDuBmPh_FRffEVV_rgNr3ImSKRRsxNvsU/s1600/Louisiana-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWBKk97rz5_KUvSKoZwE086TmmNhqI6SDFIDR3asKe_BunRzYM1FXL-DFzM8i0u__77pK3LhTa3z5BJFU4bbzg0KkhkCfneyGU2Rp7jGJk6oDuBmPh_FRffEVV_rgNr3ImSKRRsxNvsU/s640/Louisiana-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found street scene.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZuHRXlR2_OeFROAD4ANy61gEEd098s-O06JVK2xJ60Dz8Xo5N3qtdudUQxZnuMhjdk8bK0EYU12PQzoGmx0fY6JjA6hff-x3OYdx6o7EN13va0JRvpcqznhF3AOeOCvP4akRdcH7VRE/s1600/Louisiana-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZuHRXlR2_OeFROAD4ANy61gEEd098s-O06JVK2xJ60Dz8Xo5N3qtdudUQxZnuMhjdk8bK0EYU12PQzoGmx0fY6JjA6hff-x3OYdx6o7EN13va0JRvpcqznhF3AOeOCvP4akRdcH7VRE/s640/Louisiana-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afternoon sun.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">We wandered back to the hotel and collected the car via a valet service, before heading out of the city before sundown. We headed north through the swamp we'd been in the morning before. The highway raced over treetops, many of them dead, and their silhouettes looked striking as the sun burnt in ambers and rubies as it set behind them and on our time in Louisiana.</span></div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-28660217338196510292013-11-21T11:48:00.001-08:002013-11-21T11:48:24.077-08:00The Joy of Texas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyf_g5WXmg0Bdm0DIZIXq_FAdxft4xtvByo-dnYrpQHDSyG2Po64-vi7s1gevuLykVR8LkwEw3hCaKXUjp-ANDKklgaHRj8bdbfv4Mjccr2ONvxiKoKX5ae5XNl3xa0yZ15ywQjvVKSg/s1600/Texas-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyf_g5WXmg0Bdm0DIZIXq_FAdxft4xtvByo-dnYrpQHDSyG2Po64-vi7s1gevuLykVR8LkwEw3hCaKXUjp-ANDKklgaHRj8bdbfv4Mjccr2ONvxiKoKX5ae5XNl3xa0yZ15ywQjvVKSg/s640/Texas-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Texan water tower in the town of Plains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjA5ud_06foLieRSRiXIBewG13S1wWnwPuxponYF5pLPxdddpE7jkeTzAi-M2IIdSsc_1hGtivBT6XYg06mmjc290rMx5Xynlhpafrqql5VyVcwIYNkNcujv5cfg7XWB1KS9dGngYTnRY/s1600/Texas-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjA5ud_06foLieRSRiXIBewG13S1wWnwPuxponYF5pLPxdddpE7jkeTzAi-M2IIdSsc_1hGtivBT6XYg06mmjc290rMx5Xynlhpafrqql5VyVcwIYNkNcujv5cfg7XWB1KS9dGngYTnRY/s640/Texas-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More abandoned farm houses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoP5WoRwwCT3kqjzVB6DK_5neCKSta5ap09c0_Qjh6pIr5VjuI1P6DSp72bmFwpnCMLxV3ZnnRcLggUID5mZXatL20R4jK9m_qAgpn43AkWzUYxbamNzybVrQo3oJV-2o1fSknWW2cpw/s1600/Texas-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoP5WoRwwCT3kqjzVB6DK_5neCKSta5ap09c0_Qjh6pIr5VjuI1P6DSp72bmFwpnCMLxV3ZnnRcLggUID5mZXatL20R4jK9m_qAgpn43AkWzUYxbamNzybVrQo3oJV-2o1fSknWW2cpw/s640/Texas-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trucks stopped outside George's diner.</td></tr>
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As we left New Mexico's Pecos Plains and hit the border with Texas, the road surface improved as state funding changed, but some of the dusty and crumbling abandoned shacks remained. Though here they were slightly bigger, proper farmhouses, but the people were still gone and forgotten. The landscape was fairly unremarkable, mostly flat farmland, not as flat as the fens but not dissimilar. The remains of cotton harvests were clumped in the fields; either huge bales of picked cotton which looked like enormous bricks of chalk, or the discarded buds on scraggy stalks in dusty fields. The occasional tumbleweed crossed the road, and those small prairie windmills lazily turned in the warm autumn breeze. Occasionally a smell of oil hung in the air, and those pendulous oil drills worked the ground, like giant mechanical hens pecking for black corn. It was pretty sparse, but it seemed slightly wealthier than New Mexico had been. We passed through the small towns of Plains, Brownfield, Tahoka, before stopping in Post to find some food. We parked up on an eerily quiet main street, which looked like something from a Western, with old style shop fronts and covered promenades. There was no sign of food, we weren't tempted by the McDonalds we'd passed a minute before, and asked for directions to a diner. We got sent to George's Diner, a place for truckers and the obese, and were served our oily and unappetising food by an attractive waitress, hampered by her greasy surroundings. I ordered a Philly cheese steak sandwich, but even the bread was coated in grease and oil and I couldn't finish it all. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnmncsQNhx3HAphaBDVOvi1_iOEgX0-1IZf0T5yFyDgm2nve5qqBfO3_kU2kJCt3QX93RYZrbdFcERoMjczCdmb_PuZ8oXjkYDK5WM325oAmedsj0ghCwwYUVPS8myhCuug6PiJgYGWM/s1600/Texas-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnmncsQNhx3HAphaBDVOvi1_iOEgX0-1IZf0T5yFyDgm2nve5qqBfO3_kU2kJCt3QX93RYZrbdFcERoMjczCdmb_PuZ8oXjkYDK5WM325oAmedsj0ghCwwYUVPS8myhCuug6PiJgYGWM/s640/Texas-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Texans ordering food. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The sun was setting as we left Post and branched southeast towards the town of Snyder. Darkness descended and we were met with a thousand blinking red eyes lining the night horizon. These were the lights on the top of countless wind turbines, harvesting power from the moonlit air. These turbines stretched for as far as we could see, and I was surprised to see such a concentration of renewable energy in Texas, a state famed for oil and not pandering to green politics. After Snyder, we hit Roscoe and Sweetwater, before pulling off the road in Abilene for the night. After checking into a hotel, we walked to find a local bar. It was located in a retail park which was a little odd, but nowhere we had been did we find a drinking culture we were quite familiar with. On the short walk to the bar, I threw up that greasy dinner from the Post diner. It's not often you throw up on the way to the pub. Still, my stomach felt a bit better and I had more room for weak lagers, which we drank from the bottle whilst listening to a local rock covers band, called Money Shot. The singer worked the room and came and gave us a fist bump with his swollen meaty hands. In the room every male was heavy set, we stuck out for the weaklings we are, as most of the arms were bigger than my thighs. They weren't fat, it just seemed everyone worked out, a lot. There must be little else to do here.</span><br />
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In the morning we had to visit Abilene airport to find the car rental office. We'd got a cracked windscreen. It's been hit by a stone back in New Mexico, and the cars vibrations had rattled a short crack across it. The night time change in temperatures and contraction of the glass had doubled the size of the split, and so we went to see what they wanted to do it about it. We simply swapped car. It was easy and pain free, the guy on the desk was particularly friendly and we now had an even bigger Nissan Pathfinder, which we loaded with our luggage and got back on our way after a slight delay. </div>
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We reached our destination of Fort Worth by mid afternoon, and went to find a ticket office for the rodeo. We'd gone to the wrong ticket office for the wrong rodeo, which wasn't open as it was out of season, but a local gave us the location of the correct one, so drove for ten minutes to find it. The area of town was like a proper Western, with old buildings and century old painted advertisements on the top of them. Though the buildings were old, it still had a bit of a Disney vibe to it, as it was clearly left for tourists, but still, finding something untainted by commercialism in 2013 in America must be close to impossible. After driving twenty minutes to find a motel, we had a brief rest before heading back out to old cowboy town, for food and a general explore. I wanted to buy a genuine Texan hat, and so searched some of the shops for one. The first store had plenty in, but prices started at over $200 and reached up to $2000, I didn't want to spend this much. I found another clothes store with them for $60, much better, so got myself a souvenir perfect for future fancy dress, or persevering with being a Peterborough dandy. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyZ1wVbonC-oBS_HTzqf5KCifPDx9Y5qRd7j5i0NRLD1P1nSI4bDYQ5oA2f7rK96yTDo_15yza6OvYRkdp4nxs5qui33GO-IqXaS3JKvtjxpj4M3QiH6VCDn6hfYWn2jn8-NF_UDAD6w/s1600/Texas-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyZ1wVbonC-oBS_HTzqf5KCifPDx9Y5qRd7j5i0NRLD1P1nSI4bDYQ5oA2f7rK96yTDo_15yza6OvYRkdp4nxs5qui33GO-IqXaS3JKvtjxpj4M3QiH6VCDn6hfYWn2jn8-NF_UDAD6w/s640/Texas-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stock Yard, Fort Worth.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSUAfVqENEhyphenhyphenDaaR5jxP1-BXVlmzNtIpOif419UrjqqZFhpdzJoZptQjPwRsUIf3hA-w1sgnLcuZne-T-yj66ByEy3k_fOpUdGq1Uod99FnEDo5POcCWZuEb8gNIvsNbclt-oU9dRTnY/s1600/Texas-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSUAfVqENEhyphenhyphenDaaR5jxP1-BXVlmzNtIpOif419UrjqqZFhpdzJoZptQjPwRsUIf3hA-w1sgnLcuZne-T-yj66ByEy3k_fOpUdGq1Uod99FnEDo5POcCWZuEb8gNIvsNbclt-oU9dRTnY/s640/Texas-6.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Draw: a coke bottle in my back pocket made a shadow revolver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXljAynnBgVw5UV0H3ZfvIGGqKsyQRAqmlGoKcKGkiCqp4sR-3NkIcEJdyXerEfOf9Gmkx2fBCWIs69DTlL6SDqfo3fvHPTWkaaew3X17pOx5vh97L7LAuEJL7TZMohddS3e_Nj1GF2U/s1600/Texas-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXljAynnBgVw5UV0H3ZfvIGGqKsyQRAqmlGoKcKGkiCqp4sR-3NkIcEJdyXerEfOf9Gmkx2fBCWIs69DTlL6SDqfo3fvHPTWkaaew3X17pOx5vh97L7LAuEJL7TZMohddS3e_Nj1GF2U/s640/Texas-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entrance to the rodeo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6KQcs4ZyhIyS0247TicAi-no2fUoSu51Wl28lOhtEJrs_wlF99dK9FKqKmlZpUnqNut-ipRWdjnQR6mjWKR_AmcBNMWON1SIW4oKHSBClAeg8YNxELLZ-QwyK5puyasZi9bOT7t2deA/s1600/Texas-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6KQcs4ZyhIyS0247TicAi-no2fUoSu51Wl28lOhtEJrs_wlF99dK9FKqKmlZpUnqNut-ipRWdjnQR6mjWKR_AmcBNMWON1SIW4oKHSBClAeg8YNxELLZ-QwyK5puyasZi9bOT7t2deA/s640/Texas-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoe shiners on the street.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GLQYT3a9RUg8joTx_w4GcXX52ghsYm2hLZf1-kuyDumSeNVUnHSsBHbWcnxkH91jAyhb-TVCaFU_2L92GkX4QcJjhgklXY43CRpuSp5uQsnF_Tk4Er77imjDgLqDByFmIF58s_13LX0/s1600/Texas-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GLQYT3a9RUg8joTx_w4GcXX52ghsYm2hLZf1-kuyDumSeNVUnHSsBHbWcnxkH91jAyhb-TVCaFU_2L92GkX4QcJjhgklXY43CRpuSp5uQsnF_Tk4Er77imjDgLqDByFmIF58s_13LX0/s640/Texas-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cool junk shop we visited.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFdZ30BpxAA38TU2JZbiWZE4Rk6fhTBoqKwoi5b6xCKNJEvLMKOnKMlLMMyxzepp8KVFdl50xWwGymuIBTA5ixHlCpsxKGLptSt9lINS0t8uo-ycZ8nk6axnCeo8xirIcaFrKDXZWsvk/s1600/Texas-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFdZ30BpxAA38TU2JZbiWZE4Rk6fhTBoqKwoi5b6xCKNJEvLMKOnKMlLMMyxzepp8KVFdl50xWwGymuIBTA5ixHlCpsxKGLptSt9lINS0t8uo-ycZ8nk6axnCeo8xirIcaFrKDXZWsvk/s640/Texas-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local cowboys outside the rodeo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDv6jXU2b_hmSILWdlm59WoStbap5-GMNbnnPVFFES0A8xkU0vyGuAk-wi1D8x2OCKf8NShIzWw38K5xghZN3nDLTcU4uslICUplgpcxskOJbBxJIIxISh-iQWVN9xfkMbgUr-7fYSlo/s1600/Texas-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDv6jXU2b_hmSILWdlm59WoStbap5-GMNbnnPVFFES0A8xkU0vyGuAk-wi1D8x2OCKf8NShIzWw38K5xghZN3nDLTcU4uslICUplgpcxskOJbBxJIIxISh-iQWVN9xfkMbgUr-7fYSlo/s640/Texas-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The street at night.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The rodeo began at 8pm, we'd already taken our seats and beers before then, and had to stand for a cheesy, palm-on-the-heart, American national anthem, and some other patriotic song. The first event on the bill was bull riding, which was great entertainment as hopeful cowboys sat atop the beast and tried to cling on as the beast bucked and jerked to shake off the flailing and unwelcome rider. The show then moved on to calf lassoing and tying, which though not as exciting, was impressive for the speed and accuracy. The show lulled in the middle with some horse events, some female events which weren't as involved and some clown stuff. It dragged a little bit, but nothing could really compare to the drama of the bulls. Entertainment was raised briefly with two events for children to take part in. A ribbon was stuck to a calf for the under 10s, and then a mutton for the under 7s, and then the children chased the animal around the arena like a pack of crazed zombie infants, until one winner grabbed the ribbon off the scared animal's back. The rodeo finished with bull riding once more, which I'd been waiting for as it made much better pictures; though the light was too dark to do much with in there anyway. After the show, we stopped and had a beer in a busy bar on the street, before driving back to the motel.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XcSAwMCy5F43wGxvIMcSx1eaosSwReONDkdqHcUtUuNMJ3YgU9_IXfIByppLmwi-z7sS6vdANtPHjAJ8FxgPWNho3vt2qP5R76FZYjIB0vGLXZE8pxFhv6LBu3Au0v8BysXmzQvuvkU/s1600/Texas-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XcSAwMCy5F43wGxvIMcSx1eaosSwReONDkdqHcUtUuNMJ3YgU9_IXfIByppLmwi-z7sS6vdANtPHjAJ8FxgPWNho3vt2qP5R76FZYjIB0vGLXZE8pxFhv6LBu3Au0v8BysXmzQvuvkU/s640/Texas-12.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The national anthem.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbebgl-TN2SfX5IDQ9c9A4TDKyD1g77J0o91UYeEsBJhxy_4OLfHwMaxVxlzXMQgjYjZE951KeU6mVy3gisXTYh6_UZ0X_0xRMIP0xfm8Y5vOerZWvJvFRTJ-FnK28ZlM9UxN_n91DiYs/s1600/Texas-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbebgl-TN2SfX5IDQ9c9A4TDKyD1g77J0o91UYeEsBJhxy_4OLfHwMaxVxlzXMQgjYjZE951KeU6mVy3gisXTYh6_UZ0X_0xRMIP0xfm8Y5vOerZWvJvFRTJ-FnK28ZlM9UxN_n91DiYs/s640/Texas-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They love the flag.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4u7ffH0UGdQWmHLIuLs6hAilhLYibCCB5TpbPs3CmSRb00bIeELSal6bHpt1Haz0dPAj432vYaH3_TiMgPMSvQgXmlQnqba5zzVcgxFMncpXosa3pPtIvRFBTwrKbtSnB6nwLMxqP7s/s1600/Texas-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4u7ffH0UGdQWmHLIuLs6hAilhLYibCCB5TpbPs3CmSRb00bIeELSal6bHpt1Haz0dPAj432vYaH3_TiMgPMSvQgXmlQnqba5zzVcgxFMncpXosa3pPtIvRFBTwrKbtSnB6nwLMxqP7s/s640/Texas-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bull riding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaU6eSciuZWcM7aBFDoZL4Svahl4iXdfw6FUYNjzRxnEjOssPtQ2WF66eP9gXZky07nvKIsXBtnfbDK9VVpnACJLcHAxNZSzeDXVJTBIWO_DZeW7pDNqMYafOBvhyVXg90XS7Nii86sGo/s1600/Texas-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaU6eSciuZWcM7aBFDoZL4Svahl4iXdfw6FUYNjzRxnEjOssPtQ2WF66eP9gXZky07nvKIsXBtnfbDK9VVpnACJLcHAxNZSzeDXVJTBIWO_DZeW7pDNqMYafOBvhyVXg90XS7Nii86sGo/s640/Texas-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The white hatted cleanshirts in the posh box.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_PZTo795t4e_Fy3EVh-lA9_zi-auiyzv2ZIG41iTaFOHSoEZB341WclSD_ZFaPlUReDOuhTC9_InhYSq7KfdTfXkXvFbkQlVtXTD6Y_yzdceYKChlAP8cNtfcZFE7CILsT6NX1KY-nU/s1600/Texas-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_PZTo795t4e_Fy3EVh-lA9_zi-auiyzv2ZIG41iTaFOHSoEZB341WclSD_ZFaPlUReDOuhTC9_InhYSq7KfdTfXkXvFbkQlVtXTD6Y_yzdceYKChlAP8cNtfcZFE7CILsT6NX1KY-nU/s640/Texas-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cowboys waiting to take part.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFk9Q2YAmrETBz4_3HrRJ6z5nGcX8TgV9C9JjAKJ-CNDGe9uW3JOOmDWeMH-4cRqjH7feBiv1cYjSdyQ5ihD-bCH1xGrcEUrOC301qPg3BbtyVqH90VF0hZo7Oa76wNyMu1QgtAvbP6w/s1600/Texas-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFk9Q2YAmrETBz4_3HrRJ6z5nGcX8TgV9C9JjAKJ-CNDGe9uW3JOOmDWeMH-4cRqjH7feBiv1cYjSdyQ5ihD-bCH1xGrcEUrOC301qPg3BbtyVqH90VF0hZo7Oa76wNyMu1QgtAvbP6w/s640/Texas-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging on to the horse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzIRIZjRGkd3bHe-32M8sndmU_Abmu_XBAAAJAKH17j0I0Qz4kka6Bam9deIwNYM_fkycu04jfGbt9S3kfXclAilUbWC3ixXwEjr9kL-_bkMph-o6_I98Y5oDA6sMuhQmcKLBz2srq9w/s1600/Texas-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzIRIZjRGkd3bHe-32M8sndmU_Abmu_XBAAAJAKH17j0I0Qz4kka6Bam9deIwNYM_fkycu04jfGbt9S3kfXclAilUbWC3ixXwEjr9kL-_bkMph-o6_I98Y5oDA6sMuhQmcKLBz2srq9w/s640/Texas-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWiV9fWukYgHjRTVL1dc5kNNtDO54dO6xhxAF44pcqL7VXzmnDXXK1n8FxD4HXFpv3huhZtsaY90Ptb8ELQmmgqfBf9fTCsWchCOraC2BBk0-rvlaKkgVzEwULdQTCadnsZLH4qQOyPk/s1600/Texas-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWiV9fWukYgHjRTVL1dc5kNNtDO54dO6xhxAF44pcqL7VXzmnDXXK1n8FxD4HXFpv3huhZtsaY90Ptb8ELQmmgqfBf9fTCsWchCOraC2BBk0-rvlaKkgVzEwULdQTCadnsZLH4qQOyPk/s640/Texas-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was cheering on the bulls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-JOGbGDtFNML5MszaCetk4u8rdJ9ma-jqXYjil_XZ8PjeZPCRPEmqPOttpwxiPtf9JqxN13AuUz9oBDUGJC57ynwTA_mqKkfgdab3JSW_a5CcD441WxRBcAJHry9vo_4s39N5xGsIRU/s1600/Texas-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-JOGbGDtFNML5MszaCetk4u8rdJ9ma-jqXYjil_XZ8PjeZPCRPEmqPOttpwxiPtf9JqxN13AuUz9oBDUGJC57ynwTA_mqKkfgdab3JSW_a5CcD441WxRBcAJHry9vo_4s39N5xGsIRU/s640/Texas-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AXDxwSQDetvSZE1U4CC-XzVB1t5nN_poQDPUHk_qZ8hyEVTaDVdgJTyopRkZr9fA87BuKMWIa3FwjHsUjzLXnMcV6MjqBl618-l9G4lnkX_e3YKhPhRim3O9tOZLU2kpomyGUmlXktM/s1600/Texas-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AXDxwSQDetvSZE1U4CC-XzVB1t5nN_poQDPUHk_qZ8hyEVTaDVdgJTyopRkZr9fA87BuKMWIa3FwjHsUjzLXnMcV6MjqBl618-l9G4lnkX_e3YKhPhRim3O9tOZLU2kpomyGUmlXktM/s640/Texas-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love chaos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucKKW00BtPKije1UKG0WQAaxpn3lJF9utpa2oktxGSSaiqMSnvytsls9MkmENYY7iFGrZJrTVXhsseYkoX6cDlPl2-OqB7o4uiS0vi5K7uo2i5Zvu3N2-oPeHO2zY_MaMzjliOlFjN7w/s1600/Texas-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucKKW00BtPKije1UKG0WQAaxpn3lJF9utpa2oktxGSSaiqMSnvytsls9MkmENYY7iFGrZJrTVXhsseYkoX6cDlPl2-OqB7o4uiS0vi5K7uo2i5Zvu3N2-oPeHO2zY_MaMzjliOlFjN7w/s640/Texas-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The next day, Mark wasn't feeling too good, he'd been suffering some chronic headaches, and so we went to get him some medical attention. We ended up at a hospital, as registering for a doctor in America on Sunday would be close to impossible for us. We sat around and waited for his assessment and diagnosis, but it was nice to have some quiet time I could assign away to nothingness. After a few hours, we were off to pick up his subscription, and I got some syrup for my own chesty cough, and we continued on our way to Dallas, only an hours drive away.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
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The drive through Dallas was the most intense so far. Six lane highways were loaded with traffic and spaghetti slip roads looped around and overhead. We didn't have a destination to drive to, so I just drove. We stopped at a fairly central motel around dusk, and then walked 5 minutes to a nearby street packed with busy bars. The bar we drank in was the most European we'd been to so far, or at least most familiar; as Indie music played on the stereo and people in checkered shirts and dark beards sat around at tables. After the pub I didn't do much that night, except relax in the room. </div>
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The next morning we got up and drove downtown to the scene were JFK was assassinated. That week was the 50th anniversary of the event, and so there were a few TV crews at the scene filming pieces. The only shooting going on today. The museum didn't open until the afternoon so we didn't make it inside, but we walked the streets around, took some photos from the Grassy Knoll, and stood behind the fence where the other CIA shooters were stood. Does anyone believe the official Lee Harvey Oswald story? I don't. Downtown Dallas seemed nice though, it felt clean and safe and the buildings were a mix of stylish older warehouses and more modern glass and chrome temples to administration.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxGXOC04decmAE-ZSmClediBzwwEaKJxREiQ3Kx2OWU33zmJSdotbOjZMHT6nnp7meRap3jDABGxa3eEjqxrGJ5YbyxpPjqIGdNne-l_ewN3CmcaQCmit9rLaWRkNAmBvNlipeZxDc3I/s1600/Texas-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxGXOC04decmAE-ZSmClediBzwwEaKJxREiQ3Kx2OWU33zmJSdotbOjZMHT6nnp7meRap3jDABGxa3eEjqxrGJ5YbyxpPjqIGdNne-l_ewN3CmcaQCmit9rLaWRkNAmBvNlipeZxDc3I/s640/Texas-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Dallas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYwyczXpH9FTRIBrrMqPhzh64b9FYDvC0c2VDJaNRE88LHjkpD_z1PjlxPaEpjtP97ApdAdDwFEEFhpsO_nPugjpzbeqhkKNyqc1qr5doL9OwbtjbMqkKRJOXXVSLncIqEaF12Abp1c4/s1600/Texas-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYwyczXpH9FTRIBrrMqPhzh64b9FYDvC0c2VDJaNRE88LHjkpD_z1PjlxPaEpjtP97ApdAdDwFEEFhpsO_nPugjpzbeqhkKNyqc1qr5doL9OwbtjbMqkKRJOXXVSLncIqEaF12Abp1c4/s640/Texas-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where Kennedy was shot. The book depository on the top left.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5BqxEYqhOCIwbEwiey3iU3pIxU4ZKlezIvFjEYsdvQju3lRtQxIxcC-G7-lwGcMlK5CRJ15zskzOXUeRBeeSiL7Oh9gj4YVVkR-YSmwX-XQBByilJrSEgEPkAjbIJlbfaDcZ9C3bch0/s1600/Texas-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5BqxEYqhOCIwbEwiey3iU3pIxU4ZKlezIvFjEYsdvQju3lRtQxIxcC-G7-lwGcMlK5CRJ15zskzOXUeRBeeSiL7Oh9gj4YVVkR-YSmwX-XQBByilJrSEgEPkAjbIJlbfaDcZ9C3bch0/s640/Texas-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Messages behind the fence. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMCE_6_bVBcR4KL8eamINP4RcYzUcIRTnwJrBv2uYhNEYaD8vot-cOyH8pbDaKTc6W1_eVrfmvulY9J2Vvna8J_pCFoa-meuSt9aeIhe8Okc1mh37a9iGdceCoLJUuUm6dgU1gLLNoy8/s1600/Texas-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMCE_6_bVBcR4KL8eamINP4RcYzUcIRTnwJrBv2uYhNEYaD8vot-cOyH8pbDaKTc6W1_eVrfmvulY9J2Vvna8J_pCFoa-meuSt9aeIhe8Okc1mh37a9iGdceCoLJUuUm6dgU1gLLNoy8/s640/Texas-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Dallas was a nice mix of buildings.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">After leaving Dallas, we headed east along the highway to Shreveport and the border with Louisiana. The road was lined with autumnal trees with muted burning colours. There was little else to see all the way to the state border.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span></div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-43495153991526677592013-11-17T12:28:00.000-08:002013-11-17T18:50:16.673-08:00Through New Mexico<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We got up and left Gallup after breakfast, and got on the highway that would lead us to Albuquerque, where Mark was waiting for us. The drive into the city was easy, and the built-up area lay in the shadow of an enormous mountain. All I knew of Albuquerque, or ABQ, as it's known, is from the hit TV show Breaking Bad, which I've watched all apart from the last few episodes – so no spoilers please. We knew of nothing to do in town, I don't think it has all that much to offer, so we decided to visit the locations of the TV show for a few hours over lunch time. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26sZswyh_g5vqbNPwh8PaYrlYC7eft4h68EOJF8xM3Q1KlPasFja985lwOaoiaL2mT-aol8or7wrE16rwzJQXgxcidLUafu4lcSEr-LRsaWcZcWom6OUSRU7reVy4LRma0OGlr1FKMZU/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26sZswyh_g5vqbNPwh8PaYrlYC7eft4h68EOJF8xM3Q1KlPasFja985lwOaoiaL2mT-aol8or7wrE16rwzJQXgxcidLUafu4lcSEr-LRsaWcZcWom6OUSRU7reVy4LRma0OGlr1FKMZU/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving into Albuquerque.</td></tr>
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I drove around the city, which was fairly big, but fairly low rise, and all based on a grid system. Traffic was fairly heavy, so it wasn't fast moving from block to block, with lights at every intersection, but it was easy to navigate. First of all we hit up Walt and Skyler's house, which is just a normal house in a suburban street. A woman who lived there was leaving as we arrived outside, so we offered an awkward and embarrassed 'hello', before waiting for her to drive off before taking a picture. We also went to the offices of the attorney Saul Goodman, the car wash and Los Pollos Hermanos, in which I had a piss. Los Pollos Hermanos, is actually called 'Twisters' in real life, but is still a fast food restaurant. I only had a coke, as we'd already eaten Mexican when stopping off in the old town for a spot of lunch and shopping. The old town was more interesting, though whether it was old or a modern fabrication remains to be seen, but old Mexicans played pan pipes and locals went about their business.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AUChLauu93OAcBVJBHVSIoCfOXDD-NoLe84l4ru6x3NCgkZ81nqtQoqvDfb3bpGeTemy5Trvnk_vyg2pwDmwkBVM8V4R1yyXf6E1Q_eEBDi8Ia19BsdB-XoTYjDVdZgp1r2MryRfaMo/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AUChLauu93OAcBVJBHVSIoCfOXDD-NoLe84l4ru6x3NCgkZ81nqtQoqvDfb3bpGeTemy5Trvnk_vyg2pwDmwkBVM8V4R1yyXf6E1Q_eEBDi8Ia19BsdB-XoTYjDVdZgp1r2MryRfaMo/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside Walt and Skyler's house. No pizza on the roof.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkdmlqhhcVqzpG6yOi-ugllF76yGvRxXuJuU0eJn6BWqnDmrMm1IRkRlHrOScon9i8NBYyiYSKxIlttAuSF0jvgPhh-iOEN8anmjsLA5EzR3y1Lcz6jIYHBNQ2Y1sV2Hs6waLaig6Pj0/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkdmlqhhcVqzpG6yOi-ugllF76yGvRxXuJuU0eJn6BWqnDmrMm1IRkRlHrOScon9i8NBYyiYSKxIlttAuSF0jvgPhh-iOEN8anmjsLA5EzR3y1Lcz6jIYHBNQ2Y1sV2Hs6waLaig6Pj0/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Better call Saul! The big man on the roof is no longer there.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9ZkxDmwvPQhGM6XM_dHCW7JmjZvhkB6iqWzMfrWWfpItEiIUU27osXaQVfTn_ImLD20MHQTQTHVkkZYolO4fis-plrG4D2ZP1KLRhWlOd85VHl_aC_EjE0uVMgqgDey8TOmv_A0zrys/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9ZkxDmwvPQhGM6XM_dHCW7JmjZvhkB6iqWzMfrWWfpItEiIUU27osXaQVfTn_ImLD20MHQTQTHVkkZYolO4fis-plrG4D2ZP1KLRhWlOd85VHl_aC_EjE0uVMgqgDey8TOmv_A0zrys/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-4.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Octopus carwash was busy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4PA8Dn-zDrujiAYla29SRKWQJUz5PhEPkcuLSx2_KSDHrvnFuPR7e05vtYunqsmjIa6yqeK94WBd6vzsDsEQVaCnKf50FQprSk774mYMg79GMLE9cuPBkdc9NBObVzRSROgDhzatFHA/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4PA8Dn-zDrujiAYla29SRKWQJUz5PhEPkcuLSx2_KSDHrvnFuPR7e05vtYunqsmjIa6yqeK94WBd6vzsDsEQVaCnKf50FQprSk774mYMg79GMLE9cuPBkdc9NBObVzRSROgDhzatFHA/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Los Pollos Hermanos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxho1JGxJqzDaO3CXGPJ-aMAsjsSnlA3_PWr3M5DllGAn-ndFNTVCMwjE4XGAi32zsUXpBhteX2SXisDggCQvIAeqBijD4k6wCWMYF1QnuZbz3xM1-IAo75aiBLy-afR-PTWF9b2yzRc/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxho1JGxJqzDaO3CXGPJ-aMAsjsSnlA3_PWr3M5DllGAn-ndFNTVCMwjE4XGAi32zsUXpBhteX2SXisDggCQvIAeqBijD4k6wCWMYF1QnuZbz3xM1-IAo75aiBLy-afR-PTWF9b2yzRc/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the old town, nice autumnal trees.</td></tr>
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We only stayed in Albuquerque for a few hours, and then got on the road for Roswell, the home of aliens, UFOs and all things weird. We took a highway to Santa Fe, and then headed south across desert, scrub and endless dry grasslands. The road always raced out to the horizon, seemingly stretching to infinity as the straight black tarmac with yellow lines crushed into itself in a tiny point as far as the eye could see. Driving with cruise control and straight roads meant it was hardly driving, I sometimes didn't use my feet for over an hour, and just enough steering to keep the car straight was all that was needed. We passed through some ghost towns. Proper crumbling, deserted, dilapidated towns. It felt post-apocalyptic, or it could've been the set for a zombie film. I loved it. I wanted to stop and explore, but some people, unbelievably, still lived in these remote and dying communities. I would've felt like a depression or poverty tourist if I'd suddenly been waltzing about with my camera, so shot it from the car window instead. I didn't want to offend anyone or intrude; plus they might have guns. One town, called Encino, was incredible. It was proper dereliction porn. I later read online that the town built up in the 1920s when a rail depot was built, and then when the depot closed in 1965 the lifeline was cut off, and the town crumbled to dust and rot. Still some families lived here. I can't fathom why. All along the road were abandoned and crumbing farm houses, lone shacks collapsing into the earth, and the remains of trucks rusting into the ground, just an orange mound gives clues to what was there before. It's like an easy form of archaeology. I'd love to return one day with more time and have an actual explore.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZMqjxoZ8ya-GhBPfevd_Qbh00lhrt54o4BUp7kSYRzKrGfoUDQoAV_JADaTuH8j0rvBAW0lEP8KSFN8fJn0NdUGkkAGM5oQ0xsR0PQjSuIoVw4L2YHMp5sBtg-nH64fPVi9d19QkUsM/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZMqjxoZ8ya-GhBPfevd_Qbh00lhrt54o4BUp7kSYRzKrGfoUDQoAV_JADaTuH8j0rvBAW0lEP8KSFN8fJn0NdUGkkAGM5oQ0xsR0PQjSuIoVw4L2YHMp5sBtg-nH64fPVi9d19QkUsM/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving across New Mexico.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWCt_EpWBFOG4gQbvkkEBjMsFtsLZ9IhMfxsCt5Tz_RlJwdibF_36bB17O1MTT5Rv8JhE_H8vJGotcI8oayGbkvJeiSYhaB6xgtdiSzaNA-UH_3NzNAIfueP2kM24jnk0Y12XiZKEgeg/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWCt_EpWBFOG4gQbvkkEBjMsFtsLZ9IhMfxsCt5Tz_RlJwdibF_36bB17O1MTT5Rv8JhE_H8vJGotcI8oayGbkvJeiSYhaB6xgtdiSzaNA-UH_3NzNAIfueP2kM24jnk0Y12XiZKEgeg/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crumbling stores.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPLf3X9FbsYeqVPwNeAzDAYXClutcojDZsl9btEv5w17jvliOswUDAOujAvVsrOv_sk5VrwCMFaRiXafDja5cAoPWIA701XhuSTnFt1An-wxwZvrb7zon0oyeaOQiGV-dmawmMaWZjcQ/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPLf3X9FbsYeqVPwNeAzDAYXClutcojDZsl9btEv5w17jvliOswUDAOujAvVsrOv_sk5VrwCMFaRiXafDja5cAoPWIA701XhuSTnFt1An-wxwZvrb7zon0oyeaOQiGV-dmawmMaWZjcQ/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Encino Motel has seen better days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZulBT_srelS6c_UCVizBRay_La5uizD8_CkBgu04ni9HFaYp6BqHBf_cwnbyBuDfhjxnXukwKfekvaQeNEUdGAueEsalIpwJv0kcF4WYi1CxapnjyDY78PaomIj2OIKRnWD4PrlELzA/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZulBT_srelS6c_UCVizBRay_La5uizD8_CkBgu04ni9HFaYp6BqHBf_cwnbyBuDfhjxnXukwKfekvaQeNEUdGAueEsalIpwJv0kcF4WYi1CxapnjyDY78PaomIj2OIKRnWD4PrlELzA/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forgotten homes, soon to be gone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5T1-FKnNjU9WfBq9N_nyHRyOp5v8PdpJBxoWO3KWlXN5tYUApa7kQI0HFDzprKV1UMXud0Oa-49Gks2dXipIHTqXDjeT4E2XJco5LdNSnlNflMcfw6pTWO12iRUyzYMEYIoaWJonOwo/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5T1-FKnNjU9WfBq9N_nyHRyOp5v8PdpJBxoWO3KWlXN5tYUApa7kQI0HFDzprKV1UMXud0Oa-49Gks2dXipIHTqXDjeT4E2XJco5LdNSnlNflMcfw6pTWO12iRUyzYMEYIoaWJonOwo/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone's gone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0eAkXtxc98xfLTFgebjOCqjdhrxj2bXQzsqQ31rZrRbCDnY6j61c6oZstxe8F9Zgspz10Bcf6b6q9zjy2UzHJrM48bUhHdKDQFRCLxRfiQ1HcH5jsTpF4a_esrBn8ziBvaGROuL9W6Ug/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0eAkXtxc98xfLTFgebjOCqjdhrxj2bXQzsqQ31rZrRbCDnY6j61c6oZstxe8F9Zgspz10Bcf6b6q9zjy2UzHJrM48bUhHdKDQFRCLxRfiQ1HcH5jsTpF4a_esrBn8ziBvaGROuL9W6Ug/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Redundant gas stations.</td></tr>
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We arrived in Roswell a few hours into the night. We checked into a motel, and headed to a bar opposite. It was pretty busy, but not that stimulating. We'd hoped for some kind of alien themed bar, but apparently they don't really exist, generally locals are either 'believers', or embarrassed by the town's association with Extra Terrestrials. After a bit we got briefly chatting to some locals at the adjacent table to us. They were an odd mix of ages and styles, and the most noticeable was a flamboyant but scruffy gay guy in his 40s called George, and he was as camp as show-business and entertaining with it. It was hard to work out what unified them as a group, but the only thing I could think of was drugs. It's the only thing that could keep such a rag-tag group together, they were a real mis-match, but that must've been their social glue. I'm pretty sure the woman from the group was hitting on me. Her conversation was relentless and George was teasing her for it. She kept mentioning how she was divorced, but she also had brown teeth. She's only been to 6 states in her life, I'd been to 8 states in the past 5 days, but I didn't mention this to her. She was a pleasant redneck, and I politely maintained conversation whilst looking for an exit strategy. Fortunately it came when the rest of the group went off to get high, and she went with them. There was the unifying element I had been wondering about. I don't think they were pot smokers though, one of the guys had no teeth but black gums, I'm sure it was crystal meth that was getting them high. They were nice enough, and provided entertainment for us, if a little weird.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVZpJrNR6cegOZYtH97HEqb5EgMicnGvONLpb_hqt2if6oeeE5HEugHhDRLFS4atv4FU6m_v2Dk35gO4pN8b9IVB4s_GGPNRVjuNTn0wC1MJAongDHVSWujCof03sXr6ZtI2LUBRSA7w/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVZpJrNR6cegOZYtH97HEqb5EgMicnGvONLpb_hqt2if6oeeE5HEugHhDRLFS4atv4FU6m_v2Dk35gO4pN8b9IVB4s_GGPNRVjuNTn0wC1MJAongDHVSWujCof03sXr6ZtI2LUBRSA7w/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bar in Roswell.</td></tr>
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The next day we got up and drove a few blocks downtown, to the UFO museum. For those of you who don't know, apparently in 1947 a UFO crashed on a ranch near Roswell, and was taken away and covered up by the government. I don't know whether it's true or not, probably not, I didn't see any evidence for it in the museum, which was overly wordy and lacking artefacts, as are most conspiracy claims. The main strand of the story to dispel the claim, is that what was found on a ranch in 1947 was a crashed weather balloon. The counter claim is that in fact it was a spaceship, and the government put out the weather balloon story and photographs as a cover up. As no one had a camera to take a picture of what came down in that field, we'll never know. Still, it was fun to visit the museum, and the people in there – clearly massive UFO enthusiasts – were more entertaining than the exhibits. The best people were those who worked in the alien tat shops on the street. They were proper nut jobs, as they'd moved to Roswell from other parts of the country due to their love and belief in aliens. I was hoping for better tat in the shops though, I only bought two mugs. After soaking up the alien stuff, we got back on the road to get out of New Mexico, and headed towards Texas.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1rigyfGOyEv7aey8xS1XXrHpO-6ZHhZUzLfmSy_1jtYQd9GQP3Fz4x83Filt5tCX1QQizyEtuRYJnyukWKZZWIXgsA86IRFSONq-LPdE0qhzUSnM_PD2QYqo0plNfyc5jKJwuznEniY/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1rigyfGOyEv7aey8xS1XXrHpO-6ZHhZUzLfmSy_1jtYQd9GQP3Fz4x83Filt5tCX1QQizyEtuRYJnyukWKZZWIXgsA86IRFSONq-LPdE0qhzUSnM_PD2QYqo0plNfyc5jKJwuznEniY/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the UFO museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglC7NDZUcKisgfzsInnnGDSMD3XrZT5TuudMRSBXT2qePJbgQ2o1ps2r-gaD21qpJAWfC2d4z5ZAe56X04mGzBG5Zr3qz_WmygXp27VJoYYXeGolpK5yRQkkEfpVU5bfqWJbJGYjkX46s/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglC7NDZUcKisgfzsInnnGDSMD3XrZT5TuudMRSBXT2qePJbgQ2o1ps2r-gaD21qpJAWfC2d4z5ZAe56X04mGzBG5Zr3qz_WmygXp27VJoYYXeGolpK5yRQkkEfpVU5bfqWJbJGYjkX46s/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alien autopsy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXpJX9PGcpm65rXS0zlw9A54tNDcTmGnxvIbHg6WHvc1D9LfsLH9pj1E0KFQv-FPQEpi9ClmsO2i-b_WpxCM3CgpaHSgmWyj54ESt6mbl2JLQAoNNuyWrgbGn_OzLL7A3gYXxeKwrIUU/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXpJX9PGcpm65rXS0zlw9A54tNDcTmGnxvIbHg6WHvc1D9LfsLH9pj1E0KFQv-FPQEpi9ClmsO2i-b_WpxCM3CgpaHSgmWyj54ESt6mbl2JLQAoNNuyWrgbGn_OzLL7A3gYXxeKwrIUU/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt delving through the files in the archive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YiZbAl3Ex7hbBz-1kcdJn2ukTcjna2fbMqSesaESTi_SPlJdKXADs2-wWsg2H-GKF106_dnzigUpFtSeCj2e4BWk79NfDqCXp3FRh786KbtQts6XSRXVlcdtho2C6oCoZdb77hzl_fw/s1600/ABQ+&+Roswell-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YiZbAl3Ex7hbBz-1kcdJn2ukTcjna2fbMqSesaESTi_SPlJdKXADs2-wWsg2H-GKF106_dnzigUpFtSeCj2e4BWk79NfDqCXp3FRh786KbtQts6XSRXVlcdtho2C6oCoZdb77hzl_fw/s640/ABQ+&+Roswell-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many alien shops.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-24938932743961935902013-11-14T18:05:00.003-08:002013-11-17T11:35:53.813-08:00Driving Arizona: Part Two - Monument Valley and the road to New Mexico<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLzDxK1IC3MzvKOjnfHqvy3VU9r1QTbS1c807lAJneKat1NcHr6xYydh194bdFVu7b-sApvfY1ExTjp3QO1rMnzPfMIivwpJjuWJlbp-wttbCohIewUBnevOeDnsVPWR5P6wO2_ZvgNw/s1600/monument+valley-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLzDxK1IC3MzvKOjnfHqvy3VU9r1QTbS1c807lAJneKat1NcHr6xYydh194bdFVu7b-sApvfY1ExTjp3QO1rMnzPfMIivwpJjuWJlbp-wttbCohIewUBnevOeDnsVPWR5P6wO2_ZvgNw/s640/monument+valley-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monument Valley - the destination for the afternoon.</td></tr>
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The drive from the Grand Canyon took us through an outpost called Cameron, it would be unfair to call it a town. We stopped at a gas station for burritos and refreshments, as well as picking up a road atlas to help with forward planning. We followed highway 160 through Tuba City, Cow Springs and Kayenta, before branching off on to the scenic 163 into the Navajo Indian Reservation, towards Monument Valley. The desert got more beautiful and increasingly other worldly the deeper we drove. Eventually we eyed towering rocks in the distance, the great red pillars of the iconic monument valley. As we motored towards the core of the cowboy landscape, we kept stopping for photographs and to enjoy the surroundings. The odd lone car passed every couple of minutes, but other than that we were pretty much alone. The road reached out to the horizon and then hooked a right, and we floated through rusted red rocks which loomed over us like dilapidated and forgotten tower blocks from a long-gone civilisation. Once we reached the other side, we paused, and turned and around to do it again. Matt took over the driving so I could get some motion photographs, and we trundled through this isolated heaven once more. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxM-QOi8wWfJ-_HoVz-esYBF-ttMiG6dLLsAv4UcT1TWk8KpeBncXnpzHn6ZqgKzgaOVS3mGpgbMUy23EmCfXM4c1DyoW_0u5PayjLQxkoWgrOshX-uX9J7J_SV41T6XOLXunHse6ELlM/s1600/monument+valley-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxM-QOi8wWfJ-_HoVz-esYBF-ttMiG6dLLsAv4UcT1TWk8KpeBncXnpzHn6ZqgKzgaOVS3mGpgbMUy23EmCfXM4c1DyoW_0u5PayjLQxkoWgrOshX-uX9J7J_SV41T6XOLXunHse6ELlM/s640/monument+valley-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading north in Arizona.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY14rg25QY1WeeGF8zgi0xg7w9_VXRztVksj04Ve9L8KCdsXDVIwq4ORlaEa7O-SoMuoDroNE-sv0ZFjUrnhmUqH-rxJAWNjQ33vUNkO6SWGCLUEi9ycgVbFA1fjRVv4rE7jiKeowUD50/s1600/monument+valley-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY14rg25QY1WeeGF8zgi0xg7w9_VXRztVksj04Ve9L8KCdsXDVIwq4ORlaEa7O-SoMuoDroNE-sv0ZFjUrnhmUqH-rxJAWNjQ33vUNkO6SWGCLUEi9ycgVbFA1fjRVv4rE7jiKeowUD50/s640/monument+valley-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky escarpments lined the way.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRYqehfZFVMCI6DUQ1gz35_VxuphHWT44FmrTZkndq8jS-RAAE3luHGj58guEXJTak5_dzLRuLcdhJGZo3EB90TVvcBP2PNbCyFmS2YGbqCMrFqOL9jphmjcgvTq99b9QFwBNbQrSCwkQ/s1600/monument+valley-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRYqehfZFVMCI6DUQ1gz35_VxuphHWT44FmrTZkndq8jS-RAAE3luHGj58guEXJTak5_dzLRuLcdhJGZo3EB90TVvcBP2PNbCyFmS2YGbqCMrFqOL9jphmjcgvTq99b9QFwBNbQrSCwkQ/s640/monument+valley-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the distance - the pillars of Monument Valley.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The American Road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6NAwtz8T8Wi2I-A7EyFG6VI0hkW5Z3806KlOLc2HEHc8RhBWFwpsAReA66KXCUGZjK9wFPRWWqDPDHu2j1cetWJg0iMX-eSF-i_ikR6fDCmrTJKKIFApRH2bYu6DuDXs-vjzn7WkopE/s1600/monument+valley-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6NAwtz8T8Wi2I-A7EyFG6VI0hkW5Z3806KlOLc2HEHc8RhBWFwpsAReA66KXCUGZjK9wFPRWWqDPDHu2j1cetWJg0iMX-eSF-i_ikR6fDCmrTJKKIFApRH2bYu6DuDXs-vjzn7WkopE/s640/monument+valley-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like Mars with plants.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQeDJA8ReINmVKan4lwEWiamogkEV55iWAqG7JTJoW1UJ8iZS5Qq_meGxe5CNGjPT91SVW6xxzZ_kxgYU673eL0YA1fIZmLh2ivBy8TtZUS2XRrx6HFG6UAjdRDEtBZ3ArXJRyMRo7_8/s1600/monument+valley-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQeDJA8ReINmVKan4lwEWiamogkEV55iWAqG7JTJoW1UJ8iZS5Qq_meGxe5CNGjPT91SVW6xxzZ_kxgYU673eL0YA1fIZmLh2ivBy8TtZUS2XRrx6HFG6UAjdRDEtBZ3ArXJRyMRo7_8/s640/monument+valley-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mirages on the road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XJxwhfn0Cr0DP_tPWoG4vz0hJJG0VqwOVv-iLK1tEUeXiW3gIJQhISGlwnqZ6lG5gP-2HQpXrc-o7rEp8gypX2vUkXxr1F9kS4AgtVpL1y84KEiYyctJCpaWKrgoaYO3s6lC-ZtQL4E/s1600/monument+valley-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XJxwhfn0Cr0DP_tPWoG4vz0hJJG0VqwOVv-iLK1tEUeXiW3gIJQhISGlwnqZ6lG5gP-2HQpXrc-o7rEp8gypX2vUkXxr1F9kS4AgtVpL1y84KEiYyctJCpaWKrgoaYO3s6lC-ZtQL4E/s640/monument+valley-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NibMpjZQuNIRt_-5FQ68vJjcaT1QPF1DBSYrElNlYAaAbeFcLww4YhX68X1Fg_ASSFIgsl7MT6yBlkn4ii_y-7k2T-73eqH6HybujwAeoQObGPn_wQO4ON6UIq_ee6tZ17Bh4lWzQfw/s1600/monument+valley-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NibMpjZQuNIRt_-5FQ68vJjcaT1QPF1DBSYrElNlYAaAbeFcLww4YhX68X1Fg_ASSFIgsl7MT6yBlkn4ii_y-7k2T-73eqH6HybujwAeoQObGPn_wQO4ON6UIq_ee6tZ17Bh4lWzQfw/s640/monument+valley-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posers by the car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vjA7xmBvQTtFgvqNLCGaueAccvsVKnOZRE3DsvOpRynA2m-a_GaWKl_MeMoU40c6j3lMOQ3BqmlJ3sINBmCGGTdr7SD-eV-_20d1kEb542ayRDuk60WbLChXl7Ke_Ho_lXWw7tjyyIk/s1600/monument+valley-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vjA7xmBvQTtFgvqNLCGaueAccvsVKnOZRE3DsvOpRynA2m-a_GaWKl_MeMoU40c6j3lMOQ3BqmlJ3sINBmCGGTdr7SD-eV-_20d1kEb542ayRDuk60WbLChXl7Ke_Ho_lXWw7tjyyIk/s640/monument+valley-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road was pretty much ours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfxL1YpLgvMFxz7dceT_xvYtG7VpDJb7i9fMTkIv1LFieRwMleN_c840BZZ6tTj7f7ZfbxZ1CPVDWmj7YaWM2nzD4-q2bGdfjPGAq_lpw8VMNstDOj6X4KMVrvJYayK3xWZT3BHC_VxY/s1600/monument+valley-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfxL1YpLgvMFxz7dceT_xvYtG7VpDJb7i9fMTkIv1LFieRwMleN_c840BZZ6tTj7f7ZfbxZ1CPVDWmj7YaWM2nzD4-q2bGdfjPGAq_lpw8VMNstDOj6X4KMVrvJYayK3xWZT3BHC_VxY/s640/monument+valley-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cowboys and Indians.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5kYBuM72mV2uX_WDh9UjOPM1kErsVGp1U1HQIj4LwVpuejeBRidzaJ_Nqm7Pgh0e3lURl_I1GYiEJ9j7vYWd-TUO0SDYjOHNq5rcBnnb0QNOt6_2_Czz0mem5L_3Oa34mpJpP5LYyFw/s1600/monument+valley-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5kYBuM72mV2uX_WDh9UjOPM1kErsVGp1U1HQIj4LwVpuejeBRidzaJ_Nqm7Pgh0e3lURl_I1GYiEJ9j7vYWd-TUO0SDYjOHNq5rcBnnb0QNOt6_2_Czz0mem5L_3Oa34mpJpP5LYyFw/s640/monument+valley-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnc3cct0NHhQLI75E6lK_Rf-TYYJN8rM3TU-mKC2ZY4bMtU4ltiendPzqg5U67aKaEjVUuuapGDDsNTZVSFFZ3UEFfwuYIPZBp-Kk_dk6dw-rJxcer5dpT53aHCANafRnTJSdqFd-Aqo/s1600/monument+valley-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnc3cct0NHhQLI75E6lK_Rf-TYYJN8rM3TU-mKC2ZY4bMtU4ltiendPzqg5U67aKaEjVUuuapGDDsNTZVSFFZ3UEFfwuYIPZBp-Kk_dk6dw-rJxcer5dpT53aHCANafRnTJSdqFd-Aqo/s640/monument+valley-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool school run, but it must've been miles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhqwVUmP3OYrTLzBYmGsbI19WUf7fD2e3_LhhkMCTFZizJ5K9phUoxFaydU-2thywwJ6SRe54_pBw0kJzfGOa_96HQRktlHXtf1J8Flg0HUQd1_Bc1reXlpkIDMaIfvXV2Fpkg4XjyZI/s1600/monument+valley-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhqwVUmP3OYrTLzBYmGsbI19WUf7fD2e3_LhhkMCTFZizJ5K9phUoxFaydU-2thywwJ6SRe54_pBw0kJzfGOa_96HQRktlHXtf1J8Flg0HUQd1_Bc1reXlpkIDMaIfvXV2Fpkg4XjyZI/s640/monument+valley-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Racing by.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p2DgYKjpgyp-WlINMg2DSgrLZ_XHHu9Kw7SDyJz7fzNZyeoMdcV5XWmveA-f-pOPgzTjq1rC2r_rp_bBeS1j3K6IXXAtI4fpUVmQyMrpdO8uQ1k5HCTugyOfnfuGBPRR_a0BxLJAGB8/s1600/monument+valley-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p2DgYKjpgyp-WlINMg2DSgrLZ_XHHu9Kw7SDyJz7fzNZyeoMdcV5XWmveA-f-pOPgzTjq1rC2r_rp_bBeS1j3K6IXXAtI4fpUVmQyMrpdO8uQ1k5HCTugyOfnfuGBPRR_a0BxLJAGB8/s640/monument+valley-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A better view than a cop in my mirror.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnRxk-4nazdWO8xFbcv4Ujmo57jVbdCC1PQjq4WosNETqfMJPKKwUtTpJDT7XB37hd2llHTueOgYTGGJKEq7GAPdkjnJdOv4RxLEe5-RV6-noSzxE7dZ8FiZuYRDyIFqhdopsadVNSIQ/s1600/monument+valley-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnRxk-4nazdWO8xFbcv4Ujmo57jVbdCC1PQjq4WosNETqfMJPKKwUtTpJDT7XB37hd2llHTueOgYTGGJKEq7GAPdkjnJdOv4RxLEe5-RV6-noSzxE7dZ8FiZuYRDyIFqhdopsadVNSIQ/s640/monument+valley-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswq-CvPGeCu_27aVY7mZEobDFMXg9HRF1SqZzb5fXB6gb735j8cDy-EdKDXZzm_RGUnAfZLU6wMMhDC7vYvRn2BwG7XRlfIMaMroRe5ENaiCAvlY8Iv_2QV8kvSXTUvdWawwszyT5sfU/s1600/monument+valley-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswq-CvPGeCu_27aVY7mZEobDFMXg9HRF1SqZzb5fXB6gb735j8cDy-EdKDXZzm_RGUnAfZLU6wMMhDC7vYvRn2BwG7XRlfIMaMroRe5ENaiCAvlY8Iv_2QV8kvSXTUvdWawwszyT5sfU/s640/monument+valley-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An iconic view.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcEipALAvwZH08ouN7s8brrwZ3D6mG7kn6Yn5H-lWCOoAAqe0mA6_4T0XO4twOc6RAtMPN8Yl_zv_t4DupzWv6rcQHaJzoJDyVIyVHNNPigM6ap2YtZ1jOronUsL8Ih6A5Bal4mTSLJ8/s1600/monument+valley-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcEipALAvwZH08ouN7s8brrwZ3D6mG7kn6Yn5H-lWCOoAAqe0mA6_4T0XO4twOc6RAtMPN8Yl_zv_t4DupzWv6rcQHaJzoJDyVIyVHNNPigM6ap2YtZ1jOronUsL8Ih6A5Bal4mTSLJ8/s640/monument+valley-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">After an hour or so of absorbing the landscape, we decided we needed to get a move on. The road unwound north into Utah, and through desolate Navajo communities of dusty shacks out in the rock and rubble. It seemed the sort of place that would have problems with alcoholism. After a while of more unfolding and fantastic scenery, of rugged rocks different hues of red, worn smooth and sculpted by the erosive processes of wind and time itself, we hit a tiny place called Mexican Hat. Mexican Hat, although marked on the map as a dot – to me signifying a town – it consisted of no more than a grouping of huts, including a sorry looking dinner, hugging the cliff face above the river San Juan. We stopped again to gawp and take a few pics, before continuing on the road. We then hit Bluff, another strange and forgotten place, of leafless trees in a narrow valley surrounded by red cliffs, and no one was around. We took a road across country as the sun set and we reached Colorado in darkness. We branched south into New Mexico and stopped for gas and ate a Taco Bell in Shiprock, a small city filled with endless rows of commerce. We planned to reach Albuquerque, where Mark was waiting for us, but a few hours into the night we were both pretty tired, and although could've pushed on, decided to stop off at a motel in Gallup for the night, two ours north of our target, and do the rest of the trip in the morning. As we drove through the moonlit desert towards Gallup, huge black monoliths loomed out of the darkness. Almost like icebergs on an arctic voyage, these were lone rock outcrops, erupting out of the desert, only visible as lightless shadows against the deep blue of the November night sky.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EO1z713fPx2778k0W6mhvc1GGVTN-PB0XqxsaDXKo7R3fTk5vHmL5WRi30aWY0lnk1VPqPpbcHTPupMqG1vCHtQ2e7B0HpyJXtORmBKa408WeWWHIGul5geXLqJT4qGDCZtP3NSOUK8/s1600/monument+valley-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EO1z713fPx2778k0W6mhvc1GGVTN-PB0XqxsaDXKo7R3fTk5vHmL5WRi30aWY0lnk1VPqPpbcHTPupMqG1vCHtQ2e7B0HpyJXtORmBKa408WeWWHIGul5geXLqJT4qGDCZtP3NSOUK8/s640/monument+valley-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading towards Utah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjRXsg-yKD-QlXgMSWd41_Ad2rCsru7bxVwh0QhMBa-KGWRxDEv1QBWuMD1QA6-PVKgma3BdDrcIqCXTZSdGRGnBJt85b75d9KlNUhipZJmMbBOSfyq4BTMGlaqhrW-znccRmYlK2BBY/s1600/monument+valley-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjRXsg-yKD-QlXgMSWd41_Ad2rCsru7bxVwh0QhMBa-KGWRxDEv1QBWuMD1QA6-PVKgma3BdDrcIqCXTZSdGRGnBJt85b75d9KlNUhipZJmMbBOSfyq4BTMGlaqhrW-znccRmYlK2BBY/s640/monument+valley-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The strange settlement, and curiously named, Mexican Hat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtueBxMYVc0Jk5_jzvGgOlLZgyRoznyLx46mqIR1d0ePP_p1CKS0BkXB8spk33sflJeMateTho105CA8KirVejlP6X1ysTvRsc9rylfwSNNUORcT3I42aaNpxkQvtUMbSLYsQCmV2SeE/s1600/monument+valley-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtueBxMYVc0Jk5_jzvGgOlLZgyRoznyLx46mqIR1d0ePP_p1CKS0BkXB8spk33sflJeMateTho105CA8KirVejlP6X1ysTvRsc9rylfwSNNUORcT3I42aaNpxkQvtUMbSLYsQCmV2SeE/s640/monument+valley-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The village of Bluff.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFM10SjBhDMI0nGljQ-cZGFaaGPsLeuuWEYVbV2g2cIr1UNaZtOiD4ZTNCbUiDtLV05vEUKHYnx6B4or7HfJYO-pwPqF7dDUNhzinYeNyJd241TCZVjsD3qUiAWeDJPn0BlVdoy1Wibg/s1600/monument+valley-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFM10SjBhDMI0nGljQ-cZGFaaGPsLeuuWEYVbV2g2cIr1UNaZtOiD4ZTNCbUiDtLV05vEUKHYnx6B4or7HfJYO-pwPqF7dDUNhzinYeNyJd241TCZVjsD3qUiAWeDJPn0BlVdoy1Wibg/s640/monument+valley-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deeper into Utah.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_aow-UredUlMo-p3zAlSfXHYJIrCpL0TdVWMbJRJBl5oQDgJIYWY6X12Xck82covAbdf1fClvmwkB0GdSoQdZUl972OFlAhqG277zlSrpb3LWqdkw8-r99x3MP8QXNMaNtUGOpquEH4/s1600/monument+valley-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_aow-UredUlMo-p3zAlSfXHYJIrCpL0TdVWMbJRJBl5oQDgJIYWY6X12Xck82covAbdf1fClvmwkB0GdSoQdZUl972OFlAhqG277zlSrpb3LWqdkw8-r99x3MP8QXNMaNtUGOpquEH4/s640/monument+valley-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving into the night.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-11563956819406623832013-11-14T07:11:00.003-08:002013-11-14T07:12:23.706-08:00Driving Arizona: Part One – Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After checking out of our hotel, we took a cab to the airport to collect the hire car. Having never been through the process before, I was surprised at how easy and informal it was. Once we'd checked into the company desk, we were sent to the parking lot where an old guy pointed at a row of SUVs and said, "just take one of them" – so we did. We took a Kia something or other, as it was the biggest of the choice available. I'd anticipated to be quite nervous to be driving on the other side of the road in a big car and all that, but I found I took to it quickly and without incident. The sat nav made everything easy. I found adjusting to the other side of the road a relative breeze, and we were soon out of Las Vegas and winding down a hillside opposite Lake Mead, which offered stunning vistas, so we stopped for a photo opportunity. We continued on route and were soon approaching signs for the Hoover Dam, it wasn't pencilled on our itinerary but we followed them anyway, and stopped for 45 minutes to have a look around. We walked the span of the dam and marvelled at the engineering, before stopping off on the freeway bridge and looking down on the facility, and from that height it suddenly looked rather small.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JWf5AueUW03Xa8vWlM8FKjcg967s4LXpIWCTCn_yHEc3U3exr-WyqumqiRVKGe2F3XTFSWcurWIxQmr5DDdSQ3w7YBCiZkHvwS7XPx0msVWyD6ANl8IP65pCIvLjP2AaKpUMTJ6eVNI/s1600/grand+canyon-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JWf5AueUW03Xa8vWlM8FKjcg967s4LXpIWCTCn_yHEc3U3exr-WyqumqiRVKGe2F3XTFSWcurWIxQmr5DDdSQ3w7YBCiZkHvwS7XPx0msVWyD6ANl8IP65pCIvLjP2AaKpUMTJ6eVNI/s640/grand+canyon-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Mead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuqkDGbEsaq3kNsbNt83zAQ-VCzBoE8z-25soLHD3pndtbvI2Y6zekOVz58BxN9Waw4Y16UUHoakSeCBu2w1Asu0ZVLYU7J02iAfR4V5_sgtlw7qbpgKixinbn3abTggwl1X-sVe93gE/s1600/grand+canyon-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuqkDGbEsaq3kNsbNt83zAQ-VCzBoE8z-25soLHD3pndtbvI2Y6zekOVz58BxN9Waw4Y16UUHoakSeCBu2w1Asu0ZVLYU7J02iAfR4V5_sgtlw7qbpgKixinbn3abTggwl1X-sVe93gE/s640/grand+canyon-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down the Hoover dam.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFiGHLPGWyC-INC2-PyVB_HrVxPlliugbfOGNbFIvZqQ_KNzJsnJBrIbQkpFBlXwMo12dEhkX6LirQcLJy-hl1OPbHnfLQ5WFGrAO4H5Pm-3RppkQTNH8ra7RDVKVx2OlGxrctJfi5bo/s1600/grand+canyon-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFiGHLPGWyC-INC2-PyVB_HrVxPlliugbfOGNbFIvZqQ_KNzJsnJBrIbQkpFBlXwMo12dEhkX6LirQcLJy-hl1OPbHnfLQ5WFGrAO4H5Pm-3RppkQTNH8ra7RDVKVx2OlGxrctJfi5bo/s640/grand+canyon-3.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I did as I was told.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1oNY3mHtAUBZoZSlF3pNfmppAuySsropf9ubMlTArwSfGRyCKEMQY8DKIyLte-VrWkUkfNNw1zKy0gHsCsgYqgODZSu9LhPxJRFsa6uK-WKf4jGxZNgTFRGjpF3yqlup4YVM92WfkYU/s1600/grand+canyon-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1oNY3mHtAUBZoZSlF3pNfmppAuySsropf9ubMlTArwSfGRyCKEMQY8DKIyLte-VrWkUkfNNw1zKy0gHsCsgYqgODZSu9LhPxJRFsa6uK-WKf4jGxZNgTFRGjpF3yqlup4YVM92WfkYU/s640/grand+canyon-4.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down from the bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7BpdytVPPcJCB1TqfN3eKPSqY6pyv4PjeGErRSG1b2FpV9oxQLvza-jVBUeF7OUPTV1oMku1HCn5dOVG9JmbXpzkPzVDPG1dFzTSBZW4CvXhTy7yjK9bMUQKZbeGx7Ir9VrP0CjunW0/s1600/grand+canyon-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7BpdytVPPcJCB1TqfN3eKPSqY6pyv4PjeGErRSG1b2FpV9oxQLvza-jVBUeF7OUPTV1oMku1HCn5dOVG9JmbXpzkPzVDPG1dFzTSBZW4CvXhTy7yjK9bMUQKZbeGx7Ir9VrP0CjunW0/s640/grand+canyon-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It suddenly looks a lot smaller from high up.</td></tr>
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Further towards Flagstaff and into Arizona we past lots of groups of glinting RVs, parked out in the dry scrub, a few hundred yards off the road. Some of America's one million nomads. We were temporary nomads on this trip. Not far from here, we saw signs for the Grand Canyon Skywalk, which is a glass platform extending over the canyon, so we ignored the sat nav woman and took a right across country. We went through small desert settlements, surrounded by cacti and Joshua trees. These were trailer shack communities of peeling paint, rusting pick-up trucks and dry rot. It was like the kind of place you see in a post-apocalyptic movie. There was a church every half mile, or even less, and with little else out here you can see why God fills the vacuum. The dusty road snaked through these sparse settlements, and they reminded me of places I'd seen in Siberia and Mongolia. This was America, but this was poor America. It shouldn't be surprising, large swathes of the country are poor, we forget it when we swallow the glitz and sparkle of chrome America, but the rocky desert is a long way from Times Square. The road gave way to a grit track, no different to one you'd find in a quarry and this continued for 15 miles. There were no junctions to ever take, so it must've been the right direction. It was. We pulled onto a tarmac road again and soon up to a check point for the park. The friendly guy on the gate had some bad news for us, the park was closed for the day and we'd have to turn around. There was still 45 minutes of light and I'd hoped to be there for sunset, and beyond for the unveiling of stars, but it wasn't going to happen. We'd lost an hour as we'd crossed a time zone when entering Arizona, we might have just made it if that hadn't been the case.<br />
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I drove through darkness the way we came, before picking up signs to Flagstaff and eating up the road. There were huge distances between towns; we passed Stockton, which seemed reasonable size, but there was little else in between. We needed gas and so stopped with a quarter tank when finally it was signposted, and the detour by chance took us onto historic Route 66. Although the road no longer really exists, much like the world it made famous through books and songs, stretches of it are still in use, albeit under different names. The rest of the road was decommissioned, and sections of the road were disposed of in various ways. After gas, which three quarters of a tank cost a delightfully cheap $40, we stopped at a diner for food. I had loaded potato skins and chicken wings, with a bucket of Pepsi to wash it down. I went outside afterwards for a look around while Matt needed to use my computer. I coughed and choked and gagged, and ended up spewing up half my dinner onto The Road. I don't know what Jack would make of that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pPpNeuo2Yq4TRx1IPOBITWGWW4n5K0oR83GITvGhtZq5I_pArx7JS7uzR_i2jwrNk8Xpszxbqoju9T9bHc507WFJeDtvxlmCZTE7R7bkvtfPoSPFV8cOmgh8T-zrvpuHRJCg57B-hzk/s1600/grand+canyon-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pPpNeuo2Yq4TRx1IPOBITWGWW4n5K0oR83GITvGhtZq5I_pArx7JS7uzR_i2jwrNk8Xpszxbqoju9T9bHc507WFJeDtvxlmCZTE7R7bkvtfPoSPFV8cOmgh8T-zrvpuHRJCg57B-hzk/s640/grand+canyon-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gas station store on Route 66.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu-NKewSXMSAYUkUVnO66Ew9gMVcWesEG6_Q8gPN56BjMcU-FUUjf7NNv5bG0Aax-FzByWIwE-Vf-n8eyxD7uu6990AjchUkCF84VNRAb-_Vf9Mv3LFPmQe8amemtsfODLKb2GKYRDwQ/s1600/grand+canyon-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu-NKewSXMSAYUkUVnO66Ew9gMVcWesEG6_Q8gPN56BjMcU-FUUjf7NNv5bG0Aax-FzByWIwE-Vf-n8eyxD7uu6990AjchUkCF84VNRAb-_Vf9Mv3LFPmQe8amemtsfODLKb2GKYRDwQ/s400/grand+canyon-7.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic Route 66.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnFi_1CMHupU8EnrTnboiLgqBZ9dYoqc824YINn7mhZCcixXsm4zhPuI3I759itlgFXPDHskKUs88WYmBo0l0-yZcFa36wdF93Iciu1TPthXIh2gggCTNTHe1JqNNimmWRYKaow623A8/s1600/grand+canyon-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnFi_1CMHupU8EnrTnboiLgqBZ9dYoqc824YINn7mhZCcixXsm4zhPuI3I759itlgFXPDHskKUs88WYmBo0l0-yZcFa36wdF93Iciu1TPthXIh2gggCTNTHe1JqNNimmWRYKaow623A8/s640/grand+canyon-8.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was now a bit of a heritage place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v8ij3ljG94ZYhrTC0q9K_pvyOXgXfaSAGweqcRGPdELNZs5EYdyu4vqnumkWnsmXT8RVKqZwSqxwZOftC9ojarAKbWLCUrOWAiw-XtFVa21M3DX9VY4_DgYTtV5y2QDizfBxLX1M034/s1600/grand+canyon-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v8ij3ljG94ZYhrTC0q9K_pvyOXgXfaSAGweqcRGPdELNZs5EYdyu4vqnumkWnsmXT8RVKqZwSqxwZOftC9ojarAKbWLCUrOWAiw-XtFVa21M3DX9VY4_DgYTtV5y2QDizfBxLX1M034/s640/grand+canyon-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The diner we ate in.</td></tr>
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It wasn't much further to Flagstaff, and we arrived in the city by 11pm. The air was cold as the city is 7 or 8,000 feet above sea level, we checked into a motel and hit the hay.<br />
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The next morning we left before 8am. We'd planned to leave earlier but being late was always likely. After 10 minutes we managed to pick up the right road towards the Grand Canyon. We drove through muted pine forests for ages, and then out into dry golden grasslands surrounded by pleasant hills. The speed limits were often painfully slow, 45mph on empty wide open roads, and of course my speed drifted over from time to time, though I wasn't consciously doing it. On one 65mph road I noticed I was doing about 75mph when a police patrol car went by in the opposite direction. I dropped my speed to the limit but I saw him turn around in my mirrors and come up behind us. I was mildly nervous and amused at the same time. After a minute of following me at 63mph, his lights went on and I pulled over. A fat sheriff waddled over. "Licence and registration". Yes! This was great; nothing that bad was going to happen, but I knew it would be a fun experience nonetheless. He was reasonably friendly, and my polite, smiley and subservient conversation made things run smoother. He wrote me a ticket which is a cool souvenir; it has no consequence, no fine, no court summons, nothing. Just a warning. I'll make sure I wear my lighter shoes from now on. And figure out how to set the cruise control.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkbswru67SbhnIf_DMZFoehhsFXbbpTCH9tLs_ZqjgJQuiFDrPRy1HiiWON_cbkblfbAXtJR9ohSbmmfRxkfFFwHVvOmPAK2gi2EDaPUlkm-B7Wkf3p0eOiGQXX3RmyfrM91V8s_esUQ/s1600/grand+canyon-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkbswru67SbhnIf_DMZFoehhsFXbbpTCH9tLs_ZqjgJQuiFDrPRy1HiiWON_cbkblfbAXtJR9ohSbmmfRxkfFFwHVvOmPAK2gi2EDaPUlkm-B7Wkf3p0eOiGQXX3RmyfrM91V8s_esUQ/s640/grand+canyon-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scenery north of Flagstaff.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HyopkOvo_O3fI45zaGrzAdBZLtT_ihkfPFUmtSyGDto2JeuSJb0YGrDfL9Pj-4yz1VVrlYgrQa6CdadhrLpJRsghA02ju-An_E5YnunwNf9PnleTAcUJpfmdjnI2t4GAcAsA9RWRF9g/s1600/grand+canyon-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HyopkOvo_O3fI45zaGrzAdBZLtT_ihkfPFUmtSyGDto2JeuSJb0YGrDfL9Pj-4yz1VVrlYgrQa6CdadhrLpJRsghA02ju-An_E5YnunwNf9PnleTAcUJpfmdjnI2t4GAcAsA9RWRF9g/s640/grand+canyon-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road towards the Grand Canyon, on which I let my speed creep up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusNiWQtSuC67YLRdMB9bgBt-0s0YILZaT9b9l71A1fm3BpvF53RUUxhyphenhyphenLWxR4owNV4U1J2RqTTXj5l322-YVBtuvthfe4x4jOwAyMY6Vuc1VOh2rYecZrPfHDWUSAEHMSec3d0_kVn0A/s1600/grand+canyon-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusNiWQtSuC67YLRdMB9bgBt-0s0YILZaT9b9l71A1fm3BpvF53RUUxhyphenhyphenLWxR4owNV4U1J2RqTTXj5l322-YVBtuvthfe4x4jOwAyMY6Vuc1VOh2rYecZrPfHDWUSAEHMSec3d0_kVn0A/s640/grand+canyon-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cop in my rear view mirror.</td></tr>
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It wasn't that much further to the Grand Canyon itself. We paid to get into the park, and headed to a rim trail. We spent 15 minutes taking in the views; it was much wider than I'd expected – miles across – and so it's name certainly wasn't hyperbole. After walking around and taking different pictures, we jumped back in the car and took the road that skirted the edge of the canyon for another 30 miles or so. We stopped off at various view points for some quick admiration and photographs, before continuing on our way. I was conscious to press ahead, as we had a huge drive that day, and I really wanted to make Monument Valley in good time. With that in mind, the canyon was a bit of a rush, but once you've seen an enormous gulf in the ground, is there that much more to see?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-60DFQGwhwHAoGVDhedEqjJ3IHTIBh5seWY-1a32G6qhcf5jt7y45b3fquOtrQ2plezwLCnjwNu_ilKdO1Fndd0M-RuwezHJWQrL7ibfreIL0dGlJFHL0JoWUe8yq6r8C-qTpNf4zi7s/s1600/grand+canyon-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-60DFQGwhwHAoGVDhedEqjJ3IHTIBh5seWY-1a32G6qhcf5jt7y45b3fquOtrQ2plezwLCnjwNu_ilKdO1Fndd0M-RuwezHJWQrL7ibfreIL0dGlJFHL0JoWUe8yq6r8C-qTpNf4zi7s/s640/grand+canyon-12.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on the Grand Canyon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2-1Po_sJuqDkbetOelaJORNG-EDrX1JMi5KYisLRVLqGJgw2zeAacZC8FXWjBLljdk3TemWJOl7bwr4mSRLLwvWy98hHLORqYVzso3S0kxN_M4AHDK15IXwGiBVbLgSF9zNuir8spB4/s1600/grand+canyon-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2-1Po_sJuqDkbetOelaJORNG-EDrX1JMi5KYisLRVLqGJgw2zeAacZC8FXWjBLljdk3TemWJOl7bwr4mSRLLwvWy98hHLORqYVzso3S0kxN_M4AHDK15IXwGiBVbLgSF9zNuir8spB4/s640/grand+canyon-13.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wouldn't like to try and cross it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bA_hv9dlCWyccsZYw0_r3sLbBJgXtHaRWMPNcdmyJNQZKvJP9TCRzPrl2AllSei51nwZ8_YYEkCsEz0e3JEeUCXvs5-wz-6-XSllPyCEB5E3w_IgFPrKLDxlivLtCav9d1FRlJEgquA/s1600/grand+canyon-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bA_hv9dlCWyccsZYw0_r3sLbBJgXtHaRWMPNcdmyJNQZKvJP9TCRzPrl2AllSei51nwZ8_YYEkCsEz0e3JEeUCXvs5-wz-6-XSllPyCEB5E3w_IgFPrKLDxlivLtCav9d1FRlJEgquA/s640/grand+canyon-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's miles wide.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrIrWbAYPtOlJ_v-UlgDj2MCnQSW8AliTp_zWuzXZ0F22-MzqqkCIPyzjJ8dw-7NLVEgGDbp18yqjzI1m97dAeuJ-vBBwYGuxi3zjE3nOsTdYsGSoJ7rjskWK4nuZPWsBdHF8MLdf44Q/s1600/grand+canyon-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrIrWbAYPtOlJ_v-UlgDj2MCnQSW8AliTp_zWuzXZ0F22-MzqqkCIPyzjJ8dw-7NLVEgGDbp18yqjzI1m97dAeuJ-vBBwYGuxi3zjE3nOsTdYsGSoJ7rjskWK4nuZPWsBdHF8MLdf44Q/s640/grand+canyon-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tourists look out from a viewing deck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrtJJQAUCMEAH4O29o2UuYVBio6cGPOqcV7-RP4V9vBeLnv4H5-4mG4Z6n9UkSba7NA1YYM5n1U-BltzIqsIoBb5h2vF_M-uj5n7Wqfktu7Mp6R3vGpbX4POg0LEllrgeF1sPSt-fbPxg/s1600/grand+canyon-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrtJJQAUCMEAH4O29o2UuYVBio6cGPOqcV7-RP4V9vBeLnv4H5-4mG4Z6n9UkSba7NA1YYM5n1U-BltzIqsIoBb5h2vF_M-uj5n7Wqfktu7Mp6R3vGpbX4POg0LEllrgeF1sPSt-fbPxg/s640/grand+canyon-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi59UmtfpgB4KHTkWTpL3gZZcLXLgRHozCR1-UtQ0d4u7l3wc6SY6TL2w1iAl36TT4zFTHblmFbgZ_tJU8psEoBvDlXzmn9RPHhwMai77Jgm1pgLCxUPT1TB5sjwLySa3rQ5FIRRHh-Wv4/s1600/grand+canyon-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi59UmtfpgB4KHTkWTpL3gZZcLXLgRHozCR1-UtQ0d4u7l3wc6SY6TL2w1iAl36TT4zFTHblmFbgZ_tJU8psEoBvDlXzmn9RPHhwMai77Jgm1pgLCxUPT1TB5sjwLySa3rQ5FIRRHh-Wv4/s640/grand+canyon-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pQQhC4NVhHyNR_bLZChPRZqfOJQfTegq1XMq-8PaeSAkq-GncfWZH2IunoKGQnmXyea0AR7vBYZa_Kx1X1j7YhqEFXq8saTWS9uewsqCDeV_WdxozSW5FxKJif5yO1rDwYfP0EvE37E/s1600/grand+canyon-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pQQhC4NVhHyNR_bLZChPRZqfOJQfTegq1XMq-8PaeSAkq-GncfWZH2IunoKGQnmXyea0AR7vBYZa_Kx1X1j7YhqEFXq8saTWS9uewsqCDeV_WdxozSW5FxKJif5yO1rDwYfP0EvE37E/s640/grand+canyon-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-ViroYwc4SZdP-gD4WuppeqwycloDSyriYvKRifXn-P542fydfpH-8yI_RYhg7dX5WMVYKQslYGTZfNl68zChH2cQwqVM1DTdgSn6DiEPjIbXIo8wYH3i2-mryepRU0gxpbThgi9j0U/s1600/grand+canyon-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-ViroYwc4SZdP-gD4WuppeqwycloDSyriYvKRifXn-P542fydfpH-8yI_RYhg7dX5WMVYKQslYGTZfNl68zChH2cQwqVM1DTdgSn6DiEPjIbXIo8wYH3i2-mryepRU0gxpbThgi9j0U/s640/grand+canyon-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_bV6-0Zpgq9CeJRMUizuiMT6_pI16tKBizwwNn1PkfbdGkoZUo3w4FW7o6Ys1lLubXoDeXsP0uKfAR3sCifUyg-R6OjAZ547pzVNVLj0zQO09mQnHvmu-Ic9Noqy2mYfV8Bc0Ryd7eU/s1600/grand+canyon-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_bV6-0Zpgq9CeJRMUizuiMT6_pI16tKBizwwNn1PkfbdGkoZUo3w4FW7o6Ys1lLubXoDeXsP0uKfAR3sCifUyg-R6OjAZ547pzVNVLj0zQO09mQnHvmu-Ic9Noqy2mYfV8Bc0Ryd7eU/s640/grand+canyon-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canyon selfie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYtXdhzS6AicVJkozoaZqcuHtUcCqYJe6dTghD14Ed_O_9omjqN655o_5kXiQJHJx0Htrt0r_6cydUfza9ppUycY9_oEeQ8i4mdxZvgdDgDaMfIlWbUNRPiRqwCVitXGsIY37pXw7_Gc/s1600/grand+canyon-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYtXdhzS6AicVJkozoaZqcuHtUcCqYJe6dTghD14Ed_O_9omjqN655o_5kXiQJHJx0Htrt0r_6cydUfza9ppUycY9_oEeQ8i4mdxZvgdDgDaMfIlWbUNRPiRqwCVitXGsIY37pXw7_Gc/s640/grand+canyon-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWp0PiHYH-bUNDfoBIn00UDAfkkXTLkxJSKajwjNO7A6qQ61gqbqjUIZh_DYgvczxucdnjPo_L2Wm_a1HKAGARnbPSzVMISE0D00nAaG_vwwijVFZTaUAsbUIBu4yF9Ebzu0ceXBwaK3w/s1600/grand+canyon-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWp0PiHYH-bUNDfoBIn00UDAfkkXTLkxJSKajwjNO7A6qQ61gqbqjUIZh_DYgvczxucdnjPo_L2Wm_a1HKAGARnbPSzVMISE0D00nAaG_vwwijVFZTaUAsbUIBu4yF9Ebzu0ceXBwaK3w/s640/grand+canyon-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny people pose for a photo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbpKsVDkBkABHfIxfrNI5KkS_IRgGFQHroO2KWQs9dbVoqIz6rzbB7oKwPTcV11P8dY9Y6ean7BBSw925JEOzP-U7X2z1CgSYzP2JThfXyaseXhSJx0q62k4wOei-X_dH_mlwkgOgEDk/s1600/grand+canyon-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbpKsVDkBkABHfIxfrNI5KkS_IRgGFQHroO2KWQs9dbVoqIz6rzbB7oKwPTcV11P8dY9Y6ean7BBSw925JEOzP-U7X2z1CgSYzP2JThfXyaseXhSJx0q62k4wOei-X_dH_mlwkgOgEDk/s640/grand+canyon-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Matt began driving from the Grand Canyon towards Monument Valley, right in the north of the State. We rode through variations of desert, all of it easy on the eye. I'm a bit of a nervous passenger, as in I'm always thinking about what's on the road, and I don't like surrendering control. Matt's a bit of a nervous driver, and each of our nerves probably increased the others. I did my best to relax, but it wasn't helped by the jolting, jerking and frequent drifting over the rumble strips, straining my sinews and tightening my nerves. It was all fine though, and we started to make good progress towards Monument Valley and Navajo Country.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0Bch2uqEpWoqMFvhUEtR6tkzW5UBMBIyTsV2w11NeCQ6iGkSjgSbYR9xUQLwAiqgCWGTh9B2LmShrF-cP-FX3L1BI2D1GJOJqPaD4RIUshYxI5T_hg1ac42g670QV2q6iJLQZLMtmtI/s1600/grand+canyon-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0Bch2uqEpWoqMFvhUEtR6tkzW5UBMBIyTsV2w11NeCQ6iGkSjgSbYR9xUQLwAiqgCWGTh9B2LmShrF-cP-FX3L1BI2D1GJOJqPaD4RIUshYxI5T_hg1ac42g670QV2q6iJLQZLMtmtI/s640/grand+canyon-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wing mirror desert selfie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX44JVjaJy1g_xZk2b5uoYUgevYFtVWaywhw4akOa8VokVehRMT4a8x2gv2QsUgLB4YD9FBiHZtnLhnj_U3p1TIs4zmqsQMPuSjHOWKAHqInoQ4dJTcIPBIW5bfUsNTQ1wa22azEbcJEI/s1600/grand+canyon-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX44JVjaJy1g_xZk2b5uoYUgevYFtVWaywhw4akOa8VokVehRMT4a8x2gv2QsUgLB4YD9FBiHZtnLhnj_U3p1TIs4zmqsQMPuSjHOWKAHqInoQ4dJTcIPBIW5bfUsNTQ1wa22azEbcJEI/s640/grand+canyon-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt passing a large RV.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9pDQrnhQ1qAaM_18H81nDbV1MQ2j1c-1MMPfPXL7v_eAzNFrln8b0lhTHR_zr1CBYI8PyC6NCNp3DgMb1A1DAQnZplJNf8cV5rxN605Wc5VXuftyIoT98GOtX-5GE8_0n6PfIm7ry1c/s1600/grand+canyon-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9pDQrnhQ1qAaM_18H81nDbV1MQ2j1c-1MMPfPXL7v_eAzNFrln8b0lhTHR_zr1CBYI8PyC6NCNp3DgMb1A1DAQnZplJNf8cV5rxN605Wc5VXuftyIoT98GOtX-5GE8_0n6PfIm7ry1c/s640/grand+canyon-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The desert highway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpohRFOroqBKl7BeYwYIvVbWxXK_TdzUd5xe5oJE1Od2oGZkayHyEic1X_6rc-l5Y8vHN9yioRddjJtsizXnr78ORWw1mkkHgk0XdlFH_um70pupnIBsnDga_8z7bEI4W2t2NYC_Zj9XA/s1600/grand+canyon-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpohRFOroqBKl7BeYwYIvVbWxXK_TdzUd5xe5oJE1Od2oGZkayHyEic1X_6rc-l5Y8vHN9yioRddjJtsizXnr78ORWw1mkkHgk0XdlFH_um70pupnIBsnDga_8z7bEI4W2t2NYC_Zj9XA/s640/grand+canyon-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to heaven.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-6123997170463453422013-11-13T00:02:00.000-08:002013-11-13T05:15:42.013-08:00Beer and Roaming in Las Vegas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9nZ-lc5lQyOx4oVZ5hYLl6SkjyvSCb3KLuG68ALO0kz6tXCndcjQmR91V9fQn3K-v1t99ARr5IA06V6Wj15uogdAyDJ7ARoLqxJEckoTPjWJcMrqG3dqWZRcqVlhuMPenO4UsQZng7M/s1600/Vegas+-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9nZ-lc5lQyOx4oVZ5hYLl6SkjyvSCb3KLuG68ALO0kz6tXCndcjQmR91V9fQn3K-v1t99ARr5IA06V6Wj15uogdAyDJ7ARoLqxJEckoTPjWJcMrqG3dqWZRcqVlhuMPenO4UsQZng7M/s640/Vegas+-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday night lights.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I eventually found Matt waiting in the other terminal to which I arrived, and we took a cab into the glowing city. Rainbow lights poured down from high-rise casinos and hotels and a stream of plump and greying tourists flowed along the pavements. We got dropped off at our hotel – The Flamingo – checked in and dropped our bags in the clean and modern room on the 20th floor, with great views across the city. After a quick freshen up we headed out to the strip for an explore and to find our bearings. We walked towards the brightest lights and where the chaos was greatest. Every twenty yards glum-looking immigrants thrust flyers for prostitutes towards us; they knew their market. There were pictures of famous pornstars on the cards, claiming to be 'Stacey' and available for $39. How their careers have plummeted. We wandered in some of the casinos, which were ridiculous. Many of them were themed, such as Paris and New York New York; and I laughed at how fantastically opulent yet tacky they were. The casino halls themselves were little different from what you find on the British seaside, except they were all gambling machines, variations on fruit machines, one armed bandits, card game machines, and then the tables for games like roulette and poker. It could've done with some Time Crisis or something with a narrative. The halls were cavernous and smokey, and filled with old people; the constant jangling of melodies erupted from everywhere to create the theme tune to a headache. It was all pretty mesmerising and fantastically disgusting in equal measure. We played a few of the machines. I seemed to win and double my money every time, but I never made more than $10, before losing it all. It was entertaining though, even though I'm not really a gambler. We had some dinner in a French themed restaurant, which was alright. We had to queue for it, they stuck all the old people in dim corners at the back, we were seated on the front next to the walkway. We were happy with the view, but joked we were the window dressing to entice people in. It soon filled up. We spent the night drinking a few beers in different places, and walking the main drag and checking out the various casino halls. It was a bit like a Disney for adults with vices, and although from a Christian perspective Satan and sin was everywhere, it was all very mild and I didn't witness anything particularly crazy. That said, the whole strip is an assault on the senses, and I certainly wouldn't want to scoff any hallucinogens, like the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, it might be a bit too much - reality here can be filled with enough ripples and time-loops naturally. I also didn't see any drunk people. Not properly drunk. Not like you see in any British town on a weekend. The Americans don't drink like we do. I didn't see any fights, any arguments, no girls in heels falling over, no vomit, no blood. It couldn't done with it really. It was largely older couples, approaching retirement, looking bored of each other and pissing their money into machines. The Sunday night was Remembrance Sunday, and the town was full of young marines in dress uniform, looking very smart; many with young girls in cocktail dresses on their arms. They were generally walking around without any purpose, and didn't really seem to be letting loose. Shame. The rest of the people were a mix of seedy guys, freaks and weirdos, young unsure people and wide-eyed tourists. Mostly though it was older people. Like older people, we were both exhausted come midnight, which was pathetic really; but that was 8am UK time and my body clock still hadn't adjusted, so we decided to call it a night.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomR6oUpt9UsGmZ72AAOlsmzNSQkkmtT_AV3x7dd1SvBrIxth1vwL6JbF8ft1GEsqpm9CaFOPEkUKNUsnd_XA-u-Gh8VklNxSZnLNFCxcJi-gcNqEqbvYAxeXY3aOJGtdtqSYIbaHLQTo/s1600/Las+Vegas+-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomR6oUpt9UsGmZ72AAOlsmzNSQkkmtT_AV3x7dd1SvBrIxth1vwL6JbF8ft1GEsqpm9CaFOPEkUKNUsnd_XA-u-Gh8VklNxSZnLNFCxcJi-gcNqEqbvYAxeXY3aOJGtdtqSYIbaHLQTo/s640/Las+Vegas+-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down Las Vegas Boulevard, aka the Strip.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYEH2XBrYZ7YI9Z7Ox1ePnjLdyaTYbS0mHolf0JTsZk5fMUZNx-PBbdx5lDdpaDOQ6_oMAZwTNMrVogDNa2pZCnef3goDwiX1-VN0lJdbk5Z618CTAga3DHgWRMVjvkhjlbxNTEituIA/s1600/Las+Vegas+-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYEH2XBrYZ7YI9Z7Ox1ePnjLdyaTYbS0mHolf0JTsZk5fMUZNx-PBbdx5lDdpaDOQ6_oMAZwTNMrVogDNa2pZCnef3goDwiX1-VN0lJdbk5Z618CTAga3DHgWRMVjvkhjlbxNTEituIA/s640/Las+Vegas+-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Paris.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5BdG-NLds4Nz1bxks2JtQhDFtvuHba4-qY8AN_ChJZJaaY6iKTMO0Jn6UdssKN20rwhLHIOPzp6Tu-40YjzoncFs2lsjV0UXkUDBS37uazS5jA2rjLcfILhRVmvO6CMr4x7BFp0NXHw/s1600/Las+Vegas+-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5BdG-NLds4Nz1bxks2JtQhDFtvuHba4-qY8AN_ChJZJaaY6iKTMO0Jn6UdssKN20rwhLHIOPzp6Tu-40YjzoncFs2lsjV0UXkUDBS37uazS5jA2rjLcfILhRVmvO6CMr4x7BFp0NXHw/s640/Las+Vegas+-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt chasing his own American Dream.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyFD-K-ZPJg1TMLl3ZOdmjEetumEuIXRFk0HgC9-bmg_0EORAGc439nSCj8Q8jt31QI5vA7bvtrr5ORJ1XjGAp-aT3m_3_sDbsZfZO-K0uVz2tUmoDu4-YkOkcj3sTWDju9397zP74Y4/s1600/Las+Vegas+-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyFD-K-ZPJg1TMLl3ZOdmjEetumEuIXRFk0HgC9-bmg_0EORAGc439nSCj8Q8jt31QI5vA7bvtrr5ORJ1XjGAp-aT3m_3_sDbsZfZO-K0uVz2tUmoDu4-YkOkcj3sTWDju9397zP74Y4/s640/Las+Vegas+-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A-frame mobile whore advertising.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GaWkCp0XNSDjCrBZPGCtoex05PTOPHzSunoo-lnPtJtDfOGD_qUZIhEmpUu0OgtmV87BAyiRnn0e07SHKG90HQ7943du-u7WQXCAqHMLwFWUj0qmx64Y6yf7QVmcBmmERcjy8L6ntxg/s1600/Las+Vegas+-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GaWkCp0XNSDjCrBZPGCtoex05PTOPHzSunoo-lnPtJtDfOGD_qUZIhEmpUu0OgtmV87BAyiRnn0e07SHKG90HQ7943du-u7WQXCAqHMLwFWUj0qmx64Y6yf7QVmcBmmERcjy8L6ntxg/s640/Las+Vegas+-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, there's a bum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvhxNDT6Xal5mClK1pysoWTv-4nV8hNzy0JDnOGzJnPfG3TZZbRhs6wyuP9JxOoBB0LlNaXB1wcTkdE3RaGlwy3SnZDFMQ2hdKLOIw9ZJ92v_ufqMs0JEHTGEvZQaYhkXQi8pwO2moBM/s1600/Las+Vegas+-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvhxNDT6Xal5mClK1pysoWTv-4nV8hNzy0JDnOGzJnPfG3TZZbRhs6wyuP9JxOoBB0LlNaXB1wcTkdE3RaGlwy3SnZDFMQ2hdKLOIw9ZJ92v_ufqMs0JEHTGEvZQaYhkXQi8pwO2moBM/s640/Las+Vegas+-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Word of my sporting heroics has reached America.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9P6vL2pj8OQPmw_K-YbcrzV6F5dPfwx8V6LI_Dm3VVomrz8I5LPfy9YGBlNk0IW0cPU_MAG-fWcBbevpxbNiSzDV4b-r3LLGpLhBUPltKFVGwkHKI-89Hza3oE9z8ciVTvJsu4lpD3-g/s1600/Las+Vegas+-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9P6vL2pj8OQPmw_K-YbcrzV6F5dPfwx8V6LI_Dm3VVomrz8I5LPfy9YGBlNk0IW0cPU_MAG-fWcBbevpxbNiSzDV4b-r3LLGpLhBUPltKFVGwkHKI-89Hza3oE9z8ciVTvJsu4lpD3-g/s640/Las+Vegas+-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is normal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrxnQ2F2mr92Nn0vRe7cchov67iJH6RR7Ix3UeAFz9FHi5iY6neeRSuXUe1C_-qmRmqZC43UE-vnSe3D0LG3XQDdBhxatYghuJhbOMJLRx4CYYMh05Pew882NxowNtV6K_4gPROve0UE/s1600/Las+Vegas+-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrxnQ2F2mr92Nn0vRe7cchov67iJH6RR7Ix3UeAFz9FHi5iY6neeRSuXUe1C_-qmRmqZC43UE-vnSe3D0LG3XQDdBhxatYghuJhbOMJLRx4CYYMh05Pew882NxowNtV6K_4gPROve0UE/s640/Las+Vegas+-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traffic.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_VAjguKNj8mAZXD0jxLtnE8QOROZyNAb7MeeNQm1duQqlygiM5OskmODRujp4ouWNR6jb35geb0rQevB8WO55msJJZj6mltDBrsQ1bFkY1uDPmg2d0H94KeAfryUKBYPPVzIsAz_6AQ/s1600/Las+Vegas+-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_VAjguKNj8mAZXD0jxLtnE8QOROZyNAb7MeeNQm1duQqlygiM5OskmODRujp4ouWNR6jb35geb0rQevB8WO55msJJZj6mltDBrsQ1bFkY1uDPmg2d0H94KeAfryUKBYPPVzIsAz_6AQ/s640/Las+Vegas+-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbjnl64Y61hv_17n5_Vp4031kvp02xSJ2zrM-ujWMnUs3NUsGAuAcDF7GPT6olpLndoHVX3bj9ay8ShAbB164kAue4UjiJnbAKMg8b2qnlpxLdrWUMGi7ruTBKTRUFZK32MRoiGldfyd0/s1600/Las+Vegas+-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbjnl64Y61hv_17n5_Vp4031kvp02xSJ2zrM-ujWMnUs3NUsGAuAcDF7GPT6olpLndoHVX3bj9ay8ShAbB164kAue4UjiJnbAKMg8b2qnlpxLdrWUMGi7ruTBKTRUFZK32MRoiGldfyd0/s640/Las+Vegas+-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside one of the casino caves.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The following morning we both woke early, our body clocks still ticking along to the UK, and after breakfast in the room we went out, a little unsure what to do with our day. We went the opposite direction to the night before, and explored some of the other casinos and hotels. They were equally as ridiculous as the others; the Venetian had a canal running through it complete with gondolas to ride. All of the casino hotels were also giant shopping malls, with a range of shops from H&M to Gucci. We didn't go in any of them. We started drinking at about 11am in Caesars Palace, just a pint to start with over some brunch, then into some other casino halls to drink bourbon on the rocks. We had one called Knob Creek, simply because I wanted to order 'two knobs on the rocks' without giggling. I almost managed it. I could feel this drink hit me, and it was the beginning of a boozy afternoon. We played a few machines, won then lost it, before deciding to play roulette at a table. The bets were a minimum of $15, which we didn't realise at first. In fact the whole thing was a bit of a learning curve, the etiquette, the rules, and the staff were on the ruder side of helpful. In fact I'd found quite a lot of the Americans rather rude, abrupt and abrasive, and short with their answers. I got told off for moving Matt's chips, even though I could reach and he couldn't, amongst various other misdemeanours. In three spins of the roulette wheel we'd turned our meagre pile of chips into $102, somehow and inexplicably. The first bet we lost, the second we split it on black and evens, it landed on 20, so we won both counts and doubled our money. We banked the winnings and left the same bet on the table. We won again. We then decided to leave, not really liking the roulette guy, and knowing the only way to win is to quit the game right now, cash the chips, and leave the casino. It felt a bit like robbery, and someone was going to ask for it back at any point. We walked out giggling, with enough money in our pocket to get drunk for the afternoon. We went into another casino, Treasure Island, which was fusty and cheap, but we could drink $6 mojitos at one of the bars, which suited us fine. We played a few of the machines, only small bets, but came away with nothing, before settling at the bar and chatting to a late middle aged guy from Kentucky called Jay. I quite enjoyed talking to him. We talked everything from sport to weed to Edward Snowden and lots of things in between. He must've enjoyed talking to u</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">s as he insisted on buying us a round of drinks, so we gratefully accepted and chatted some more. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHcW1WbN0X2_bF-lSeG3s88WLwSv0EROXoPDGYqI4ENV_WGzPaZ6vSkHd-FqZZv1e_WS9RTslcD0qk7wJzNOP3VRB-RuOCvmse7xbCCnNSsWr_r-Nh0-L8B5YMS40fuA2zUtssabcOeQ/s1600/Las+Vegas+-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHcW1WbN0X2_bF-lSeG3s88WLwSv0EROXoPDGYqI4ENV_WGzPaZ6vSkHd-FqZZv1e_WS9RTslcD0qk7wJzNOP3VRB-RuOCvmse7xbCCnNSsWr_r-Nh0-L8B5YMS40fuA2zUtssabcOeQ/s640/Las+Vegas+-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel - The Flamingo. It had Flamingos in the garden. Real ones.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAS0N0spB_8zLR63pSTeqmlZVnqTb2IUFI_m18NJXLKj2aP7Hm3OkBMe3NUzd1oRYK4aK4AMEDHzjLVVm3Ct5416NsJ1bNUTkaZSbDee0lGWlr-JIYYHgyAf3FC_JrjDkqpJBUhksJDJQ/s1600/Las+Vegas+-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAS0N0spB_8zLR63pSTeqmlZVnqTb2IUFI_m18NJXLKj2aP7Hm3OkBMe3NUzd1oRYK4aK4AMEDHzjLVVm3Ct5416NsJ1bNUTkaZSbDee0lGWlr-JIYYHgyAf3FC_JrjDkqpJBUhksJDJQ/s640/Las+Vegas+-13.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many wedding chapels.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPZJ0CpVrfLaOoAGthCTGZjbEnEAIWJE9kWWsBfvU0WqdyQEEptfBl1CzNMY_wjezlP-92zOoSDRdJk_h9TDNBpFpYO053h4zKn-QGevOvig_nKgQ-hvSGrQbTOm1SdMdYWGvfZU0KKQ/s1600/Las+Vegas+-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPZJ0CpVrfLaOoAGthCTGZjbEnEAIWJE9kWWsBfvU0WqdyQEEptfBl1CzNMY_wjezlP-92zOoSDRdJk_h9TDNBpFpYO053h4zKn-QGevOvig_nKgQ-hvSGrQbTOm1SdMdYWGvfZU0KKQ/s640/Las+Vegas+-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my short-term winnings.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BkutJ0iAe0-3dGzGSR9-YkPvy05-CZcWih5jTQc_O07cf63ZgupMfvmqJHTHSplaYedgIEuPIuIxdIZxXsGWPP8WLvCwoZUsPkhp-NHFDEa3D-c9AmYmyYDtCdxrNbTpZwQkT44odhc/s1600/Las+Vegas+-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BkutJ0iAe0-3dGzGSR9-YkPvy05-CZcWih5jTQc_O07cf63ZgupMfvmqJHTHSplaYedgIEuPIuIxdIZxXsGWPP8WLvCwoZUsPkhp-NHFDEa3D-c9AmYmyYDtCdxrNbTpZwQkT44odhc/s640/Las+Vegas+-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caesar's Palace.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBL4i69BuSQM8ivPsKk5fkEFkyC-zCZLsyJTylKlGVMGSZ3EyHTIIeJUpuc1R_YUEpxu1BrYxNzX4hmJk-32uAzRsmkAIQeMlHsWXT0XN3FTnefX0ptyCqaZgv10iz3ox6GKtElbIvOA/s1600/Las+Vegas+-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBL4i69BuSQM8ivPsKk5fkEFkyC-zCZLsyJTylKlGVMGSZ3EyHTIIeJUpuc1R_YUEpxu1BrYxNzX4hmJk-32uAzRsmkAIQeMlHsWXT0XN3FTnefX0ptyCqaZgv10iz3ox6GKtElbIvOA/s640/Las+Vegas+-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down by the Venetian.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71CuH-etnAd3dCVJpZzz-MRBcB-1DEvX8gPLsu8HWY7BFiJo4rgSatRV-kyM5dPb07atZm3Ppt6IEJdQeRW3szJ-Mz8W2TVOwzheInSf31sIDPbQWhANNVnxwvZAMoMW4DLlh_krV3g8/s1600/Las+Vegas+-20-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71CuH-etnAd3dCVJpZzz-MRBcB-1DEvX8gPLsu8HWY7BFiJo4rgSatRV-kyM5dPb07atZm3Ppt6IEJdQeRW3szJ-Mz8W2TVOwzheInSf31sIDPbQWhANNVnxwvZAMoMW4DLlh_krV3g8/s640/Las+Vegas+-20-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our old friend Jay. He was alright, really.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">By 5.30pm we were a bit drunk, and I wanted to go and take some photos. It was already dark so I'd missed the golden hour, but Matt went for a wander while I indulged my photography, but didn't really manage to get anything great. Afterwards I met up with Matt again, had some dinner and a beer, before heading to a comedy hypnosis show we'd bought tickets for. Vegas is full of shows, the bigger ones were well over $100, which we weren't going to pay, so we opted for some cheap no-name, just to say we went to a show. It started at 10pm and ten minutes later I was asleep in my chair. I don't know if the hypnosis was having an effect on me, or the fact I was shattered and a mild hangover was already kicking in, as it does when you get drunk on spirits in the middle of th afternoon. I only saw some of the show, waking up in and out of it. It seemed ok, but not worth the struggle to stay awake for. It was dark and the seat was comfy, pretty relaxing aside from the moronic laughs of much of the audience, creased up at the sight of someone pretending they're on a Playboy photoshoot. The bits I saw were entertaining, I even smirked a few times and exhaled through my nose as a sign of amusement, but that was all I could muster. I had hoped to have a wild night of unexpected tales and delights, but come midnight I was crawling into bed again, unable to handle any more of Vegas. It didn't seem like there was that much there for me anyhow. Maybe I did it wrong, maybe I went to the wrong places, but the Vegas I saw was barrel-bellied men from the mid-West placing irresponsibly large bets and dry-humping the American Dream. It was also filled with silent dead-eyed Californian women, deep into retirement with permed hair that didn't make them look any younger, and the cigarette stuck to their lips made me question how they'd made it this far, pumping coins into fruit machines like they were feeding a dream they couldn't kick. I didn't encounter the actual craziness which is meant to be embodied by Vegas. The casinos are quite mad, the opulence and tackiness is insane, but I didn't really stumble upon any insane behaviour, which I was hoping to do. It was all a little tame. Perhaps the people I know who have raved about it filled their hotel room with hookers and their face-holes with drugs, but I doubt it; I think perhaps instead they're just easily pleased.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2f-YhjM64XcH9EsnWX0hKwUrEzTqecgzG_YgbFu5kAb45w0dWxq2IqByq7Qg0HMvclV-68zODVhI5F1rDtQAsrc4Mo7Dpt0POOaBssj7DMcKOEdhvEVM_A_dN6zKVOaBiEskVZFSQG6s/s1600/Las+Vegas+-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2f-YhjM64XcH9EsnWX0hKwUrEzTqecgzG_YgbFu5kAb45w0dWxq2IqByq7Qg0HMvclV-68zODVhI5F1rDtQAsrc4Mo7Dpt0POOaBssj7DMcKOEdhvEVM_A_dN6zKVOaBiEskVZFSQG6s/s640/Las+Vegas+-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside another of the gambling pits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTvkqAh0YZJNN5yl6INGMTAwgNGeExadtFPH4CzaciRXGKq6zvXpxiE2YB3VzWUHDPAxlXtRuIB1HrVpE6kcl37BpRhty7vgvc7N6TOG_c52e4djJyI-vMzjoNPg-gUlMcqOX6Hf5Urks/s1600/Las+Vegas+-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTvkqAh0YZJNN5yl6INGMTAwgNGeExadtFPH4CzaciRXGKq6zvXpxiE2YB3VzWUHDPAxlXtRuIB1HrVpE6kcl37BpRhty7vgvc7N6TOG_c52e4djJyI-vMzjoNPg-gUlMcqOX6Hf5Urks/s640/Las+Vegas+-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I kept repeating the same style of photograph.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOzDPircSokaUODmvfNHx6GKaTue3Bdp62JpOZi4GRLz59KaSZH4pbnFzWoTq6GiW1YmGzZuVgcLkinalKGuT91_v_bbaUcZGNnd1n_6i9baiFE-dn1npSZK83EyZXJKeCrc2KWh4rPg/s1600/Las+Vegas+-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOzDPircSokaUODmvfNHx6GKaTue3Bdp62JpOZi4GRLz59KaSZH4pbnFzWoTq6GiW1YmGzZuVgcLkinalKGuT91_v_bbaUcZGNnd1n_6i9baiFE-dn1npSZK83EyZXJKeCrc2KWh4rPg/s640/Las+Vegas+-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyv-ipL73bG-FbTdmYLRPA3mAfBYbiPWM51eq_GZjOdYM2TCtZIx0LMykH6fW8jCiip4CxxL490pUUs7zXYz3x5vAHirnW1DUV4mpCLStcvlq53VDNJ7HB9K0f0f1N_vTAyJpBX0_5zk/s1600/Las+Vegas+-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyv-ipL73bG-FbTdmYLRPA3mAfBYbiPWM51eq_GZjOdYM2TCtZIx0LMykH6fW8jCiip4CxxL490pUUs7zXYz3x5vAHirnW1DUV4mpCLStcvlq53VDNJ7HB9K0f0f1N_vTAyJpBX0_5zk/s640/Las+Vegas+-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And another.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngMWz3BgBQX0ud3Emj0ErDugFyru5LclFJ8hwB9YSFpO597D79ARR3DK2uH9MHj1pEH2nrtCbmPdy9f6T_oejrnqVIRmSiCYTPpJx-3nIzPB-BKvhgzX1iXhy2aDSRv4ab_8fnn54RBw/s1600/Las+Vegas+-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngMWz3BgBQX0ud3Emj0ErDugFyru5LclFJ8hwB9YSFpO597D79ARR3DK2uH9MHj1pEH2nrtCbmPdy9f6T_oejrnqVIRmSiCYTPpJx-3nIzPB-BKvhgzX1iXhy2aDSRv4ab_8fnn54RBw/s640/Las+Vegas+-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a bit late for this, pal.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-37032593209022828532013-11-10T19:46:00.005-08:002013-11-13T05:07:30.032-08:00Day 2: Nashville amble and flight to Vegas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyGelaF9VTyHJdawUPiucgH6BxrWzCY2cAStigDvG26a-VfjB3q4lyq3elQ3SWn_tvDnkSU2dgVxSHbkQ_qHzP-jbHJjL5HJNwHkx1n3chT4y480rphMJ_bYLAuUld66AeIx9rSNFC7A/s1600/nashville+morning-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyGelaF9VTyHJdawUPiucgH6BxrWzCY2cAStigDvG26a-VfjB3q4lyq3elQ3SWn_tvDnkSU2dgVxSHbkQ_qHzP-jbHJjL5HJNwHkx1n3chT4y480rphMJ_bYLAuUld66AeIx9rSNFC7A/s640/nashville+morning-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Around the motel. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I'd set my alarm to give me 10 hours sleep, but was awake enough to emerge from my morning dozing after 6 hours pillow time, such was the effects of jet lag. After a lazy early morning spent online and streaming the lunch time Premier League game, Mark and I headed out for a stroll and to get some breakfast. There wasn't much around our motel of any interest, just a car wash, a few petrol stations and a selection of diners, but the fabric of America itself was both interesting and exciting. We walked up a small hill towards a leafy residential area. A chorus of crickets erupted from the long grass to sing the morning hymns, grey squirrels scurried and rustled in the dry fallen leaves, and a smell of autumn and pine cones hung in the warm blue air. The houses were neat, stars and stripes flags were hung on some of the porches and fluttered in the breeze, sagging pumpkins slumped on verandas left over from Halloween, and the odd lone person picked up the newspaper from the end of their driveway, much like the start of each Sopranos series. The suburb was gentle and still. It felt as familiar as any US TV drama of the past 20 years, and like we were sneaking around the set, as wide residential streets unwound in front of us. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6ztH1WPQ-_wecpgukIw4P7TYGTfBMBAcR_gWFmczhGXqT_1R1IJ_j_TzY2NtEQYVTlCt5qcnTGccvhRRlorGKNtb1MB6jwOr-iqdjcuD3E9ZZzB9JOx1M4y3o3-UVYmwcKlc0GZNrsc/s1600/nashville+morning-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6ztH1WPQ-_wecpgukIw4P7TYGTfBMBAcR_gWFmczhGXqT_1R1IJ_j_TzY2NtEQYVTlCt5qcnTGccvhRRlorGKNtb1MB6jwOr-iqdjcuD3E9ZZzB9JOx1M4y3o3-UVYmwcKlc0GZNrsc/s640/nashville+morning-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleepy suburbia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbr4jM_WG8KQ7m6Putl-bFQk_P0P0M55tgCYrj_vTnCD8B9waMUDfAFeuxXPXKUXL17ch6NT2QswbO2dElrBiRE3Y6XBsLrYVzh5DZc2hGC-bQX45q2TwjH6OP7Yzv_AoKbB3fkoK_UE/s1600/nashville+morning-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbr4jM_WG8KQ7m6Putl-bFQk_P0P0M55tgCYrj_vTnCD8B9waMUDfAFeuxXPXKUXL17ch6NT2QswbO2dElrBiRE3Y6XBsLrYVzh5DZc2hGC-bQX45q2TwjH6OP7Yzv_AoKbB3fkoK_UE/s640/nashville+morning-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn was almost over.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FEJ1gxvsKMsxKPGnagXZiXx2RHfE8Q045hXVj_mGxoSj7Ihkzhbch769vDde02ajnTvdQ9iIeaNlkbHOku9UoDb9dahNoRnmPj7D-YG_O1xiPZdl2KF2PEMwb1WFShTBEwb5SkRcqUI/s1600/nashville+morning-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FEJ1gxvsKMsxKPGnagXZiXx2RHfE8Q045hXVj_mGxoSj7Ihkzhbch769vDde02ajnTvdQ9iIeaNlkbHOku9UoDb9dahNoRnmPj7D-YG_O1xiPZdl2KF2PEMwb1WFShTBEwb5SkRcqUI/s640/nashville+morning-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUebvIqJlVJSXTZugtcVu0BJVW-Q7td0YWARgqlqVBu1CX1PTV7M2w7WPwK8TlxUld5a5Z-4uaaeDFiTxUfyC8JVereFwMT08Wsmbwk1d6w7mdOfNpy2RAZMWrj9TnqtbBWXDS6z3irk/s1600/nashville+morning-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUebvIqJlVJSXTZugtcVu0BJVW-Q7td0YWARgqlqVBu1CX1PTV7M2w7WPwK8TlxUld5a5Z-4uaaeDFiTxUfyC8JVereFwMT08Wsmbwk1d6w7mdOfNpy2RAZMWrj9TnqtbBWXDS6z3irk/s640/nashville+morning-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween decorations left up. Mark's reflection in the door.</td></tr>
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We called in a rough looking sports bar which was advertising breakfast, from a sign missing half of its letters. Inside was smokey, and we sat at a dark sticky table and looked around at the neon Miller Lite signs and observed the curiously dressed locals – a mixture of bikers in bandanas and unfit sports fans – and listened as they talked with their Tennessee drawls. The barman asked if we were Australian. "No. English". And the cast of this scene collectively threw a glance towards us. I ordered a stack of pancakes, bacon and a bottle of beer for breakfast. It was all exactly what I wanted, and it was the beginning of America. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBO6cZDEwaihaGl-I599IwX5qXWbPPC_ss-_N6HPPnGQsTKjCrEmzY8R414jZ5j5dpiprXxGLMloL1UB7qgEGBdYW1kT6cYL9tMgH1DYzh11M24nGwh48qGqYDegxFTE5qdJLfYD5pxk/s1600/nashville+morning-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBO6cZDEwaihaGl-I599IwX5qXWbPPC_ss-_N6HPPnGQsTKjCrEmzY8R414jZ5j5dpiprXxGLMloL1UB7qgEGBdYW1kT6cYL9tMgH1DYzh11M24nGwh48qGqYDegxFTE5qdJLfYD5pxk/s640/nashville+morning-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The JC Bullseye Sports Bar for breakfast. A wonderful dive.</td></tr>
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Just after noon I took a cab to the airport and allowed myself plenty of time. The taxi driver was from the Ivory Coast, and we chatted a little in French on the five minute journey, as colourful African beats danced behind joyous guitars from his CD player. A lot of the people I'd encountered so far in service jobs were immigrants. I know the States is a nation of immigrants, but these were all first generations and hadn't shaken off their accents. I was surprised by this, I didn't imagine America to be as porous as the UK in terms of recent migrations, but then again, how would I know. At the airport the camp check-in guy on the desk looked at my ID and said 'UK! Cool!'. I gave a smug nod. I could get used to this undeserved currency.<span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span>I sat and waited for my flight to Denver airport, the camouflage for the supposed New World Order's underground bunker, as Taylor Swift's album played over the airport tannoy. At least that saved some of my iPod battery.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROElYaXGBlom_laoIB536AjikoCIBI81RvEMdbg-Y5KEBJoRGVZMvP4vaQnwpgqqUsUDxOIXeDvuskrwRyj4ZFTp2JzdAqVWgWt1GgIX8XmOl-IWKDIvcv0TEnBe4aeVtgKENImRpApo/s1600/nashville+morning-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROElYaXGBlom_laoIB536AjikoCIBI81RvEMdbg-Y5KEBJoRGVZMvP4vaQnwpgqqUsUDxOIXeDvuskrwRyj4ZFTp2JzdAqVWgWt1GgIX8XmOl-IWKDIvcv0TEnBe4aeVtgKENImRpApo/s640/nashville+morning-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nashville airport.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEP4kLADdRPPfZkL7Sdn3s1ghvFhf4LOosnREmRT31PDo58NOLKQe14Xp_UskplwgEQNJSTCENUSPxJaCX-dN74CF_3TbkPelPkfPDVliDKAzH6JTM9Zs-r3URUsq3EdrYnUm88Yb92U/s1600/nashville+morning-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEP4kLADdRPPfZkL7Sdn3s1ghvFhf4LOosnREmRT31PDo58NOLKQe14Xp_UskplwgEQNJSTCENUSPxJaCX-dN74CF_3TbkPelPkfPDVliDKAzH6JTM9Zs-r3URUsq3EdrYnUm88Yb92U/s640/nashville+morning-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through a window.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBk-DfsSQTXIFjOIro7FOIffSgiXfkUQDRSv3KnSskjzz4Xcz-omzcGgQuw6R6Q3yhsLmA3ZECSK3FouswnnRDrM-d-ellG1mImYrVvUWmHCqbwGRyCiTXi5RuYuONjcELej0v38hhEM/s1600/nashville+morning-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBk-DfsSQTXIFjOIro7FOIffSgiXfkUQDRSv3KnSskjzz4Xcz-omzcGgQuw6R6Q3yhsLmA3ZECSK3FouswnnRDrM-d-ellG1mImYrVvUWmHCqbwGRyCiTXi5RuYuONjcELej0v38hhEM/s640/nashville+morning-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old couple wait for the flight.</td></tr>
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<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
I arrived in Denver airport 10 minutes after my gate opened for my connecting flight to Las Vegas. Not again. I managed to get off the plane and sprint 150 metres down the departures lounge to my awaiting gate, which was about to close. I didn't have time to have a look around Denver airport –which is an item of curiosity for those who wear tin-foil hats – but in the brief time I did have I didn't see anything of which I had read about. I'll just have to wait for a personal invite from a Rothschild to uncover the hidden truths of the place. Google it. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvwx-kPiAlAjTxFgi-w0n0s3peK7l-IobJjqLJnZZgN-9IfA0DwLIMwJQl7S5T2eoZpSPsI0QsRcm_r0AAhl7SYAMErpzhX9x8sPYNzb4N8D9SASy-t86Qg12qrCsFB0gdN6p6W4KiaQ/s1600/Denver+departure-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvwx-kPiAlAjTxFgi-w0n0s3peK7l-IobJjqLJnZZgN-9IfA0DwLIMwJQl7S5T2eoZpSPsI0QsRcm_r0AAhl7SYAMErpzhX9x8sPYNzb4N8D9SASy-t86Qg12qrCsFB0gdN6p6W4KiaQ/s640/Denver+departure-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denver airport. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTgqsVnPYynKJ3oH3Cvky5JB1ftDyn-t-V2lTbAuaZuJV_TJdASZ6w6im1VirZuE0wnwE1icSQ2JDe-ouE9hdmCH8iJl5ff68tJ-8Dalf483zx1iqabXX8S01ucIx2u8yNw-ff6Q69-o/s1600/Denver+departure-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTgqsVnPYynKJ3oH3Cvky5JB1ftDyn-t-V2lTbAuaZuJV_TJdASZ6w6im1VirZuE0wnwE1icSQ2JDe-ouE9hdmCH8iJl5ff68tJ-8Dalf483zx1iqabXX8S01ucIx2u8yNw-ff6Q69-o/s640/Denver+departure-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Departing Denver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAb4JlDdtIrZExjAip7XlIuBE_AP2U5sc7XSkRT3aPy8WsdifUqKYJYQw1onfEfHhnObC50q5UtOA3d2Ba8j44ViyThLHv-nvjAc5Zu9ZCaLiQjbVN3gH0POTqUBPZ5jafzvNf9NNPk8/s1600/Denver+departure-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAb4JlDdtIrZExjAip7XlIuBE_AP2U5sc7XSkRT3aPy8WsdifUqKYJYQw1onfEfHhnObC50q5UtOA3d2Ba8j44ViyThLHv-nvjAc5Zu9ZCaLiQjbVN3gH0POTqUBPZ5jafzvNf9NNPk8/s640/Denver+departure-3.jpg" width="427" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking over Denver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMsOpln9pZ7bQG5ouZXF8Lqc-9JCy4XEk4tTxynez4UMiCf_k4OoqNt2YG7hcMBzf4vZXEfNcDNXiSy9RRVDh6Ri8uYyeFHexnJvmRVnLGoynCTfR7MpIYO9agRgvNbyqsMfd23wEj1M/s1600/Denver+departure-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMsOpln9pZ7bQG5ouZXF8Lqc-9JCy4XEk4tTxynez4UMiCf_k4OoqNt2YG7hcMBzf4vZXEfNcDNXiSy9RRVDh6Ri8uYyeFHexnJvmRVnLGoynCTfR7MpIYO9agRgvNbyqsMfd23wEj1M/s640/Denver+departure-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The geographical seam between the Rockies and the Great Plains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipO7OUqN1RCnO2dd4rmCVn11YYliEJbo3oT1txFvo5_3E7yUKn_aCZDNss8Bv2USIzm4RsL3fF50miNVsQCAYRxbd76dE8Yc4-WW5ZP7kugJgIBrHb4oHQZISj5849lqKu3B0Cse2wQwk/s1600/Denver+departure-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipO7OUqN1RCnO2dd4rmCVn11YYliEJbo3oT1txFvo5_3E7yUKn_aCZDNss8Bv2USIzm4RsL3fF50miNVsQCAYRxbd76dE8Yc4-WW5ZP7kugJgIBrHb4oHQZISj5849lqKu3B0Cse2wQwk/s640/Denver+departure-5.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowcapped mountain tops.</td></tr>
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I had a window seat on the connecting flight to Vegas, and was squeezed in next to a fat toe-headed mother and daughter, the seatbelt a cheese wire through their ample guts. As we took off from Denver I saw the Rocky Mountains slump to a halt on the edge of the Great Plains, just on the edge of the city. The mountains were snow capped and the plane hung in a dark orange dusk all the way west to Las Vegas. After touch down I collected my bags from the carousel, adjacent to which were a host of one-armed-bandits and gambling machines, and then made my way over to the other terminal to meet Matt. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBsrINJasgWnhqKl2NTbFnkR44sjtgFSlYis8g0oiJRSHotRP9dJfoeDO1GmDgaqVOVBlgoTWjXmYWr3M7LCGeD0MH2j1ODpMaFMz-gZn1xRbXjXzvjKddOHjmQFRh1vo3j5mQ_h2nl8/s1600/Vegas+arrival-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBsrINJasgWnhqKl2NTbFnkR44sjtgFSlYis8g0oiJRSHotRP9dJfoeDO1GmDgaqVOVBlgoTWjXmYWr3M7LCGeD0MH2j1ODpMaFMz-gZn1xRbXjXzvjKddOHjmQFRh1vo3j5mQ_h2nl8/s640/Vegas+arrival-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying into Las Vegas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI1UWtaZX93noMaANHZdZrz8SwkMEpTPNFmpDvWKOk_UicqYjJi25sFvNcxGCGt8mrGgC1wBjKWQaCF3TuRUy1A3g3Ry8NBH9Fh69R72vCZhkO1tU7cFbDlE1sfevp-4otWaSpJ6Zc5k/s1600/Vegas+arrival-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI1UWtaZX93noMaANHZdZrz8SwkMEpTPNFmpDvWKOk_UicqYjJi25sFvNcxGCGt8mrGgC1wBjKWQaCF3TuRUy1A3g3Ry8NBH9Fh69R72vCZhkO1tU7cFbDlE1sfevp-4otWaSpJ6Zc5k/s640/Vegas+arrival-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gambling machines by the baggage carousels.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-87121304650564018452013-11-10T07:00:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:34:35.896-08:00Queueing up for an American Adventure.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm on the road again, and it feels great to be exploring somewhere new. It's only for two weeks – so it's short and sweet – though with 6 flights and over 2,500 miles to drive in that time, perhaps some of the way will be long and bitter. Yesterday I flew to Nashville, via Washington DC. I'm travelling to the States with my friend Mark, who I used to work with at the paper, and meeting my housemate Matt in Las Vegas tomorrow, before picking up a car and driving back to Nashville.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvVp5WVHgP1tJmvI6bxDbOdmc88M4Kg9RtbslKVzu6fKHSntLF5DZ1PZi1EmYtIdLG0OvmGYG8YPy7vh4yVyALB1UN8iro8-HRV2aWhapM29SY5sfHJ5rA0fCptuqLLWy7RNDzNcBHsg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-10+at+14.14.25.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvVp5WVHgP1tJmvI6bxDbOdmc88M4Kg9RtbslKVzu6fKHSntLF5DZ1PZi1EmYtIdLG0OvmGYG8YPy7vh4yVyALB1UN8iro8-HRV2aWhapM29SY5sfHJ5rA0fCptuqLLWy7RNDzNcBHsg/s640/Screen+Shot+2013-11-10+at+14.14.25.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The planned route of our road trip – it may change as we go.</td></tr>
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Mark and I were meant to arrive in Nashville for early evening, having left London Heathrow at noon the same day. Our United Airlines flight was late getting into Washington; then we were forced to queue like cattle for immigration and customs for well over an hour, to be quizzed by a bored Border Officer for 30 seconds, during which time I lied to him. Twenty minutes into that first queue, our connecting flight to Nashville left. Oh well, we were powerless to change the outcome so there's no point in trying. We spent the next three or so hours in more queues. Queues that wound round themselves like a bored and frustrated snake and then round corners, like a joke. Once they were certain we weren't carrying any bombs or any water – the latter in case we wanted to drown the pilots for a hijacking – we joined a customer service queue to sort out the connecting flight fuck up. Another hour passed. Half the staff left their desks and weren't replaced as their shifts finished, the winding and grumbling queue progressed at an even slower rate. I wasn't left with a good impression of United. First of all those terrorist attacks 12 years ago, then the food wasn't that good, and now this. Once we reached the desk, we were informed we were already on the next flight to Nashville at 9.55pm. We had a few hours now, so sat in a mock English pub and smirked at loud Americans, while eating a much needed burger and necked an even greater necessity - a pint of Guinness.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQNEYmVbHR2uobl7k8_qgS90Qc4CpozyaxDjxZanfYdbtCVgLk9vgCJ3sf8qbaogCjF2ir4P-hXzcu3M5dmP3ZTSYLWI29MkkAj1zNATf3bcT3ELVvtAyeihwcmhRuGqKdCH9OUq9oho/s1600/united+flight-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQNEYmVbHR2uobl7k8_qgS90Qc4CpozyaxDjxZanfYdbtCVgLk9vgCJ3sf8qbaogCjF2ir4P-hXzcu3M5dmP3ZTSYLWI29MkkAj1zNATf3bcT3ELVvtAyeihwcmhRuGqKdCH9OUq9oho/s640/united+flight-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flight from Washington Dulles to Nashville (taken on my HTC One).</td></tr>
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The final flight was cramped and the cabin was tiny, I was sat towards the front and I could see the pilots and all their sticks and buttons who weren't protected behind any security doors, which is surprising in this day and age. If there had been a hijacking though, I wouldn't have known anything about it. I was asleep before the plane was in the air and didn't wake up until the wheels were back on the ground a smooth hour later, so who knows what mid-air dramas unfolded. A red-eyed Danny Dyer to play me in the movie. I'd had three hours sleep in two days, and was rather tired. Upon arriving in Nashville airport, with its brown early 90s interior and country music piped through the speakers, my eyes felt like sandpaper. We jumped in a cab and drove the 5 minutes along empty highways to our airport motel and pretty much headed straight to bed. Our plans of a big night out in Nashville to kick-off our trip had been punctured by the travel delay and weariness of queues. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, as the next night will be in Vegas, and surely I'll need my shut-eye for that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-q930Lay1gwTiB_yqLv5_rBRBJ-7Mbs7ezEoVsecaMt9zh7Jqlk5HUd_TYR8B5QIvrFd_urK2I0A1-NG_XScpCA4dFyTuS9jTwdQL3E-PuTeiP_UUpIAY0rdX7TYTyEcjFYBz8GYNik/s1600/nashville+motel-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-q930Lay1gwTiB_yqLv5_rBRBJ-7Mbs7ezEoVsecaMt9zh7Jqlk5HUd_TYR8B5QIvrFd_urK2I0A1-NG_XScpCA4dFyTuS9jTwdQL3E-PuTeiP_UUpIAY0rdX7TYTyEcjFYBz8GYNik/s640/nashville+motel-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our midnight motel was in a thrilling location.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-33595077022823324372013-02-04T08:35:00.002-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.225-08:00A film.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-81415174781605627192013-01-24T05:49:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.278-08:00Coming home.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After passing out drunk as the plane taxied in Bangkok, I didn't wake until the plane jolted to a touchdown on the tarmac in Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital of Brunei, and it must have been mid morning. This was the first of three flights, and three hours completed of a 30 hour journey home. I'd flown in the opposite direction to Europe, but this was the cheapest ticket I could find a week before I wanted to fly, and at only £227 it was a fair bit cheaper than anything else on the websites. Not many people knew I was coming back. Most of my friends in London knew, they know almost everything. One or two people in Peterborough knew. My family I kept it from. I wanted to surprise them if I could. They knew I would be back soon as my money was gone, but I'd told them I wasn't flying back until the 24th, so I'd bought myself a week of time.<div>
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I was in between drunk and hungover when I left the plane for a ten hour wait in Brunei's airport. I recognised my surroundings as I'd been here in 2001 on a family holiday. I think that trip was one of the sparks that lit my desire for travel, so it was fitting that I should be passing through at the end of my journey I'd been waiting 10 years to take. I had a mild headache but I was still drunk enough to not really give a shit, so I wandered through the small waiting area and flung myself on a bench, where I must've slept for a couple of hours before deciding I needed a coffee. I had a £20 note in my wallet, which had been refused by everyone in Bangkok to be exchanged on account that it had some stains in the corner of the note. Some money had gone mouldy in my bag when my bag got wet on a Chinese bus. I didn't check on my secret stash very often, so it was in a foul state when I did discover it's condition, and my emergency pounds and dollars took a fair bit of drying and cleaning to get them semi presentable. The woman in Brunei exchanged my money without fuss, and I hauled myself up the stairs to the cafe for a black coffee, egg bagel and bottle of water. I didn't sleep anymore in the airport, but hopped around on the search for accessible wifi and electricity sockets. The ten hours didn't drag and it was soon time to board a flight for Dubai.</div>
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I was sober boarding this flight. You can't buy alcohol in Brunei anyhow, not that I would've wanted any, but reality was laid out in front of me in plain, undistorted sight, and it was horrifying. Sat on the plane in a grey, flat dusk, I was pushed back in my seat as the plane raced along the runway, I realised that coming home was the hardest thing I had done on all of my trip. Leaving home wasn't easy. There were things to untie and untangle, things to arrange and postpone, things to think through, but emotionally it was pretty easy. The travel part was easy. You buy a ticket, take the journey, and repeat, until I got to where I wanted to go. Thinking back I can't recall a genuine stressful or scary moment on the road. Sure there are challenges, but they are usually accompanied by adrenaline and excitement rather than worry and dread. When I was travelling, I would be at my most happy when I was literally travelling, I didn't know where I was going, as long as I was going. I was content to be idle, to absorb and gaze, to think and excrete, to chit-chat and encounter. I had nothing to do but to simply be. At home you have everything to do and you have to be someone, be something. Someone people expect things from, and you have to deliver. There were a million things racing through my head, I struggled to decipher my own thoughts through the blizzard in my mind. I was both looking forwards and backwards, and finding it almost incomprehensible to get a handle on the bowl of wriggling maggots my headspace was. I hadn't felt an emotion like this since university ended, and I cried that day in 2006 when I left London, knowing it was all over, and I was close to tears again 30,000 feet over India. I pulled my blanket over my head in case I did cry. I didn't; but I could've howled like the toddler three rows back, or wailed like the infant four rows in front. Would people have tutted at me under their breath like they do with children? Instead I turned my head towards the window and watched orange cities pour like lava fields across the oily black earth as the plane descended into Dubai. </div>
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I struck up a conversation with an English girl about my age as we departed the plane as we had the same bag, I was looking for a distraction and it worked. I only had 30 minutes or so in Dubai to wait, and I boarded the same plane and took the same seat I had just exited, as the Boeing continued on its way to London having refuelled and exchanged some passengers. The food wasn't great on the flight. Normally I enjoy flight food, it's stimulation of some kind, but I didn't have much of an appetite. I fell asleep before the end of everything I started to watch, and managed a few hours shut eye, before the flight screeched onto the runway of a graveyard grey England at 6.40am Friday 18th January, 2013. </div>
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I was still in shorts and t-shirt, my mind was still abroad, and so I dressed accordingly. Coming through the arrivals gate I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if anyone was waiting for me. I didn't expect there to be anyone, but just in case someone had made an incredible effort, I didn't want it to be a waste for them if I sailed right by onto the Piccadilly Line. There was no one waiting. I was relieved. I bought a bottle of drink for a shocking price, there's no bartering in WH Smith at Heathrow. </div>
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This was the longest I'd been away from the UK, I was a week shy of seven months abroad. My first observations of England were this. It was expensive, it was multicultural, and it was cold. People were tall. I was now short again after 6 months of being amongst the taller ones. Men were different. They weren't lounging on motorcycles or street corners, they were serious. Serious men. Business men. Groomed, but still dying. Sniffling men. Everybody was quiet. Conversations were hushed if they happened at all. I sat with cold air around my bare legs as I waited for the train to depart Terminal 4 towards central London along the Piccadilly Line, a line I'd ridden hundreds of times before. </div>
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On the tube everyone was quiet. It was silence apart from the splutters of coughs, the hum of the electrified rail line, then the familiar female voice announcing to 'please keep away from the doors', before the beep-beep-beep-beep of the closing doors, and we're rattling in to London as the carriage lights blink wearily and the blue-grey light of winter seeps over the earth as if the ground were tissue soaking up cold water. Rows of breathless chimneys stretched out like tombstones in the suburbs and the yellow glow from offices spilt their tricking light and cast shadows across still empty and frosty carparks. </div>
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The train slurred to halts at stations who's names were familiar but still foreign enough that I maybe only knew them from a book or conjured them in a dream. But no, this is London and station after station the Piccadilly Line winds into more familiar and more terrifying territory. The eyes got sadder the further in we went. This journey became a funeral procession, everyone mourning my own loss of travel and idle freedom. The train became busy. People with hollow eyes and double coats shuffled on board, they huddled together with sad arms folded like snakes, floating from the platform onto the carriage in silence, accepting their fate, and once again the beep-beep-beep-beep of the doors before the gentle and breathy growl of steel wheel on rail like the train was cheyne stoking. </div>
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I changed trains at Green Park and boarded the Victoria Line to Highbury and Islington, before taking the overground line to Haggerston, in East London where my friends live. As I waited for the overground train, the last train before I was reunited with familiarity, it started to snow. Cocooned people gave me odd looks as I stood there, with glum face and tired eyes, bushy beard and grubby shorts, as an icy wind whipped white flakes around my face. I was home but I felt lost. Perhaps everyone else did too. </div>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-19137297218480544552013-01-24T03:29:00.002-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.212-08:00Bangkok - the end of the road.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I spent five or six days in Bangkok. I did almost nothing of value; unless you count drinking and dancing with girls in nightclubs as things of value. At least none of them had a penis. I think. I spent a lot of my time sat in the lobby of my guesthouse-cum-brothel where I could access wifi, and watch a stream of ladyboy whores and old lady hookers come and go (in real life, not online), some with a handful of different clients within an hour. I was slapped by one of them one night, after his/her fifth waltz past me, I asked 'are you having a good night, fella?' - I know it's not fair to insult people's gender, I don't care what's between anyone's legs anyway (apart from people I'd be romantically interested in), but these ladyboys can be quite aggressive in asserting their...je ne sais quois. The clients ranged from men younger than me, to men my fathers age, and none of them seemed ashamed or embarrassed in the slightest. Many would make quips or throw winks and I'd be delighted at the opportunity to ricochet some back, roused from my tipsy wifi immersions. One man about 40 came down asking to borrow some condoms, 'What, one for you and one for him?' - I joked, but he smiled back and continued on his search for latex. Bangkok is a city of vice. It's the devil's playground, anything goes and it often does.<br />
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Khao San Road is where the majority of backpackers in Bangkok come, and I can't imagine another street in the world which could claim to be the epicentre of backpacking. The entire street, and surrounding blocks, is devoted to travellers. Whether it be guesthouses, bars, restaurants, cafes, clubs, laundrettes, shops selling t shirts or souvenirs, Western chain food outlets, massage parlours, travel agencies, tailors, everything and everything. You can buy degrees on the street and the same person also sells viagra. Fake driving licenses, press cards, you can pretend to be anyone you want to be, and buy anything you want. The place is chaos, it's hell, it's a war, it's enticing. Local vendors wander up and down pointing green lasers at your feet, pinging LED helicopters up in the air, hill tribe women in jester hats try and make money selling these wooden frogs which make a frog-like sound when you scrape their back, or bracelets with offensive phrases woven in to them, such as 'cunt salad' or 'rape my kids'. Barrel-bellied men come in close and offer 'tuk-tuk?' before making ping-pong noises and thrusting a laminated menu of sexual vices under your nose. I never went to a ping-pong show. I'd been to one before, and had no strong desire to return, doubled with the fact I had no money and was living off one or two pounds a day for food, four pounds for accommodation and the rest went on alcohol. The girls who's company I kept were keener to go to the ping-pong than the boys. The road smells like a mixture of street food, engine grease and fornication, with the odd whiff of sewage if you're standing near a drain. On my first evening there Lars and I sat on an alleyway kerb drinking a 7-eleven beer watching a massive rat come and go about his rat business.<br />
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My days followed a similar pattern. I went out every night bar one. The days were spent lounging around, browsing the internet, popping out for street food of pad thai about 4pm, but generally avoiding the heat and bustle of the day. The evenings would start with some shop bought beers, before some stronger buckets of booze in a bar, and once we felt drunk enough to tolerate the club, we went to the club, until the alcohol wore off sufficiently that we became bored of dancing to the same music and trying our luck with all of the potential girls.<br />
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I was sharing a small double bed with Lars, in a window-less room, it was just a place to crash and hide like a cockroach away from the light. I also spent a fair bit of time with a young Dutch guy called Tim, who had the enthusiasm of an 18 year old, but the beard of a 25 year old. We spent a lot of time that week just chatting in the lobby and waiting for the evening to come. The American girls, Abby and Liv were also in Bangkok, and their company was always appreciated. They were staying with a friend somewhere in the suburbs, but they made a few trips into the central hell and we had some enjoyable evenings tasting what Khao San has to offer, and one evening ending with four of us crammed into our small bed, as they'd overstayed their visas and needed to depart on a border run early in the morning, so stayed with us, though it was so cramped I don't think anyone slept. I slept once they'd left and dreamed of playing football with Darth Vader. Interpret that one, someone.<br />
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One evening I met up with a childhood friend, Ben Layton, who was now living in Bangkok with his Canadian wife, the both of them working as teachers in the city. It was good to catch up and despite us barely not having spoken in 15 years, we got on well and I enjoyed his company.<br />
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The final evening I took a taxi an hour across town to visit him in his modern apartment, with the intention of dinner, drinks and a swim on his rooftop pool. Everything happened bar dinner, the least important things always get sacrificed first. I'd taken the liberty of also inviting Liv and Abby along to meet them, as Liv was looking for a job teaching in Bangkok and was hoping to stay for a year, so I thought it would be nice to introduce her to some people who are settled in the city and might be able to help her out. I arrived first and had time to chat with Charlotte, Ben's wife, before the girls arrived and we went to the rooftop pool. It was quite exciting for me to be swimming on a rooftop surrounded by skyscrapers, and Ben and I left the girls talking at the table as we did lengths and sank beers. By the time the evening expired, the girls had to leave and I said goodbye to my two American friends as they pulled away in a taxi, and Ben and I went to his local bar. The bar was by far the coolest bar I'd been to in Bangkok, but all of the others had been tourist dives with no class or character. We were almost the only people in there, apart from a couple in one corner who I went over to say hello to with the confidence of beer and whisky already inside me. He turned out to be from York and a reporter for Reuters, he gave me his card and with it a sudden desire to return to Bangkok (or somewhere similar) and work for an international news agency. I'll fire off a few prospective emails and CVs once my website has been redesigned and relaunched. I'll be firing them off into the dark, but like Tony Martin, you never know who you'll hit. That evening in the bar we got pretty drunk, shots were sank rapidly, a generous Thai at the end of the bar kept ordering us sambuccas; the cool bar staff told us he was a Thai celebrity, a singer songwriter who was famous and successful, but I would have no clue if they were pulling our legs or not, but I chose to believe them. Later on we were dancing shirtless on the bar to indie and Brit-pop, as the staff poured Jack Daniels down our throats straight from the bottle. I was pretty steaming by the time closing time came, and my flight home was in three hours, so with help I got a taxi to the airport. I got drunker during the cab ride, even though I'd paused drinking, it was still seeping into my blood. At the airport I met some awful south London sex tourist, who decided to buy me a beer, and we sat outside on the kerb drinking and smoking the last of our cigarettes, before I somehow navigated the obstacle course of an airport, without making too much of a fool of myself or declaring myself too drunk to fly. I had drunken conversations with a host of people throughout the airport, and I think they found me amusing, though I may have just been an annoying drunk. Upon boarding the plane, I walked through business class and asked aloud 'is this business class or the fat cabin?' on the sight of everyone being bloated and swollen with gluttony, or glandular problems, you decide. One woman looked up at me with disdain but I drunkenly and smugly staggered to my seat, where I made a song and dance to the girl next to me about the fact that the seat didn't contain a tv in the back, but just a mirror. I'd never experienced this before, there's been a tv since I can remember flying. I asked if I was meant to perform my own play, and started acting out some scene before passing out against the window, to the relief of the girl in the seat next to me. That's how I left Bangkok and almost seven months on the road.<br />
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-91599968012153693542013-01-23T08:09:00.000-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.293-08:00Siem Reap: Ankor Wat a wonderful place<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ankor Wat at sunrise.</td></tr>
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On the bus from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, I met another American - Mike; he was on holiday from teaching English in northern Thailand and we spent most of the ride talking before sharing a tuk-tuk into Siem Reap town. I was on my way to meet Lars again, who was already a day or two ahead having come straight to Siem Reap after Sihanoukville, rather than detour through the capital like I had done. The tuk-tuk driver didn't know where my guesthouse, Villa Anjuna, was; so I was dropped off close-ish and found it myself on foot down dark alleys, having asked a number of Khmers along the way. I found Lars propped up on the bar and deep in German conversation when I arrived, having walked through a dark garden, guided by the lights of the bar to reach him. I spent five days in Villa Anjuna, and I'm not sure where the time went, as I really only left the security of the compound once in five days to visit Ankor Wat, save one afternoon trip into town to arrange journey onwards to Thailand and to enjoy some bartering in the central market. </div>
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Villa Anjuna was a really comfortable and unusual place, it was quiet and tranquil, only having about five rooms or so, and as such all guests hung out and became a group of one, including Mike who wasn't sleeping there but spent a lot of his time within the walls of the villa. It was a German run place, by a very warm and welcoming couple, who'd whip out the Mekong whiskey at any opportunity, and often they'd pour out shots for breakfast. The social area centred around the bar which was constantly trickling out soft Goa trance from the speakers, and the rest of the compound was a carefully cultivated garden designed for psychedelic stimulation. He was a pharmaceutical psychonaut with wild and enthusiastic eyes, and she was his heroin-thin spaceship passenger. They ran the place marvellously, it oozed hospitality with ease and genuine warmth. The menu for cerebral stimulation was as large as the menu for culinary stimulation, and staying there was an experience I will never forget. The days and nights were spent chatting away with the fellow guests, including a middle aged German couple on their honeymoon, some Scandinavians and a mixture of other nationals who came and went, including the night time expat bar visitors, who mostly seemed to be teachers or journalists, so conversation was always good. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The psychedelic Villa Anjuna garden.</td></tr>
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In the middle of our stay we decided to visit Ankor Wat, which was the purpose of visiting Siem Reap but sometimes you can become distracted. Lars, Mike and I did the trip together, taking a 5am tuk-tuk to the site so we would be there to watch the sunrise. We arrived before there was even really a blue-bleed to the sky, though it wasn't long before the watery hues of dawn began to seep in. As you approach the main entrance to Ankor Wat, having already entered the commercial entrance where you pay $20 for your ticket; there are two small lakes, one on the left and one on the right. The lake on the left already had a small crowd gathered around it bigger than some League Two attendances, whereas the lake on the right only had a handful of people scattered as if picnicking in a park. The choice was obvious. We went and sat on the quiet side and waited for the sun to rise. Having been content with my pictures from a pleasant but unspectacular dawn, we wandered over to the side packed with tourists; DSLRs on auto and compact cameras firing their flashes at a building 250 metres away. Yes I'm a photography snob: deal with it. I took a few pictures of the crowds which by now I found more interesting than the ancient ruins to my left, but we didn't stay with the crowds long before the lure of Ankor Wat was too much to bear and we wandered into the first complex. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cambodian dawn.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bigger than some League Two football attendances - the dawn crowds at Ankor Wat.</td></tr>
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Even at the time of writing now, I still don't know too much about Ankor Wat, I've not even gone as far as Wikipedia for research, but you can do that. From what I gather it's around 1000 years old, it started originally as a Hindu religious site, and over time and as influences changed it became a Buddhist site; some of the iconography was changed, others remained, and so it's a mixture of the two Eastern and linked religions. I don't know what society built it, except that the women in the carvings looked Khmer (Cambodian) to me; and judging by the variety in style and decay of the buildings and complexes across the huge site, I would guess they were in use for 500 years or so. This is guess work from my own eye, I can be my own Indiana Jones, perhaps the truth isn't too important; just that the buildings are fascinating, beautiful and intricate. I don't know if they were palaces for Kings or temples for monks, or both, but whatever it was for was clearly deemed very important. I wondered where the ordinary people would have been, as you'd need a city of construction workers and craftsmen to construct such wonders, but I guess the structures they inhabited were temporary. One thing I did notice, and particularly enjoyed considering the way I grew up, was that in many places the floor was littered with pottery. This made me hard. Half the time my eyes were down on the ground looking for any interesting pieces; rims, bases or bits with decoration - just as I had spent countless afternoons as a kid looking for Roman pottery on the fields around where I grew up. This was the evidence of the ordinary people and the occupation of the site. To the untrained eye the ground looked like it was covered in pebbles and gravel, but almost every piece was pot rather than stone, and humble pot at that too. I spent a fair while looking for bits with beauty, and most of it was undecorated and uninteresting, suggesting the consumption of these objects was by ordinary people, workers, not people who lived in world wonders. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mostly pottery under your feet. </td></tr>
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Anyway, our tuk-tuk driver remained with us all day, taking us to about five different temple complexes throughout our visit, until around 4pm when our legs were tired and my interest was waning and I didn't want to become bored by it (we'd been looking at it for nearly 11 hours), so we decided to leave. We had intentions to perhaps come back later in the week, but we never made it. One day was enough, plus it'd be another $20 and my financial tank was already running on fumes only. The complexes we visited all had their own character, with different styles and ages, and you could spend up to an hour walking amongst the various crumbling structures within each complex, and sometimes when we were lucky there were hardly any other tourists about. Although thousands of tourists visit Ankor Wat every day, it's such an enormous site, with structures spread out over such an area that you really need transport to even carve off a small slice of it in one day, and as such you can find yourself at quiet spots to selfishly enjoy it. </div>
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Now for a barrage of pictures.</div>
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Thanks for sticking with me.<br />
<br />
Lars and I opted to depart Siem Reap at a comfortable time in the morning, nothing too early and severe, as we headed via bus to the border on our way to Bangkok. I'd heard that this border crossing was one of the more testing in the region, simply because of the volume of people and as such there are often queues and delays. I guess it took us an hour or two to exit Cambodia and enter Thailand, it wasn't too bad. By mid afternoon we were officially in Thailand and looking for options to get to Bangkok. We were too late for the last train of the day, so joined one of the minibus runs which dropped us off adjacent to Khao San Road in Bangkok come evening. The following is the last picture I took on my camera of my entire trip. It's of Lars, as we are approaching the Cambodian border exit. I intended to take photos in Thailand too, but I never got around to it, perhaps because it's the only country on my trip I'd visited before, or that I knew my computer and hard drives were absolutely full, I don't know, but my final two blog entries from this trip will be prose only.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnnLA48gPVkInw99kNKsrKnxe79XYNn6Z8Ng-Kq40FkAfYHByvAizO4UmXAn3BUu8la_uxrIWPLa2ZBChiwXxfY_7owwJ-_uFJecoKSVp67JJHFU7SviZUMM5tps0d2OmloYrAhaV_9E/s1600/angkor+wat-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnnLA48gPVkInw99kNKsrKnxe79XYNn6Z8Ng-Kq40FkAfYHByvAizO4UmXAn3BUu8la_uxrIWPLa2ZBChiwXxfY_7owwJ-_uFJecoKSVp67JJHFU7SviZUMM5tps0d2OmloYrAhaV_9E/s640/angkor+wat-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last photo from nearly 7 months of travel - Lars with his luggage.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-80673562821821297762013-01-13T03:36:00.000-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.276-08:00Christmas in Cambodia: Otres Beach, Sihanoukville.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea Garden, Otres Beach, Sihanoukville. </td></tr>
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We'd collectively decided to head to Sihanoukville for Christmas, we wanted to be on the beach and this was the main coastal town in Cambodia. Otres Beach had been recommended to us by someone we'd met along the way, it's a 15 minute tuk-tuk ride from the main town, but as such it's secluded enough to avoid the majority of the hawkers on the beach selling tat or begging for money. Lars was already ahead of us and had managed to book us some bungalows on the beach in a small resort called Sea Garden, which was a relaxed and comfortable place to stay. Alex, James and I arrived on this bus from Phnom Penh and tuk-tuk'd our way to the beach, where I found Lars relaxing on a deck chair on the beach, sat with Cristina from Spain who was now a member of our Christmas group too. I was so happy to be somewhere beautiful for Christmas. The sun was setting as I arrived as I was grinning with little to say as I absorbed my new surroundings and looked forward to a very unfamiliar Christmas.</div>
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That evening Liv and Abby would be arriving later on, but we didn't see them until the following morning as we'd wandered down the beach to have an explore of the few quiet bars for a few drinks, and many of them sold cannabis as well, as lax as Cambodia's laws seem to be. </div>
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The following days in the build up to Christmas followed a very similar, lazy and hazy format. We'd sit on the beach for a few hours, chatting, reading or just staring at the ocean, before deciding it was time for a 30 minute swim to cool off in the warm, calm and clear sea. This was pattern that repeated itself over and over for my time on Otres, and it didn't get boring. The company was great, the location was close to idyllic and I was very content in doing very little, having had 6 months hauling my bag around different countries, transit systems and Asian metropolises. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnH_AqmwLAeVxCXmMgWllq5ErKVBdfVrXMcwoaDbQ55eWDkztn-APqxa0CTQRK0i9Eh08mAmZzLNJqTr2GyUMUREx7sgweA8E0pD9C90fqBtXbA7Dzv8bRBSHyjTMOeOTss9sPvTP-UBM/s1600/Cambodia-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnH_AqmwLAeVxCXmMgWllq5ErKVBdfVrXMcwoaDbQ55eWDkztn-APqxa0CTQRK0i9Eh08mAmZzLNJqTr2GyUMUREx7sgweA8E0pD9C90fqBtXbA7Dzv8bRBSHyjTMOeOTss9sPvTP-UBM/s640/Cambodia-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars and Abby relaxing on the beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTIzSmjBW0XOs09wSGNH8v54k4vnqJ6mVsbmFIvjfOeKtgOhGsoiOKk9OK_XrveRCGk5hPLHFSweI7f1Lo7hcQwx_s27vhwzS6jDF2p7mwi3Bm4GImwmU9qpUJ7NEyxC54Cig9ql3nBQ/s1600/Cambodia-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTIzSmjBW0XOs09wSGNH8v54k4vnqJ6mVsbmFIvjfOeKtgOhGsoiOKk9OK_XrveRCGk5hPLHFSweI7f1Lo7hcQwx_s27vhwzS6jDF2p7mwi3Bm4GImwmU9qpUJ7NEyxC54Cig9ql3nBQ/s640/Cambodia-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liv and Abby in the sea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHM7F3IApEkruB_Hhyphenhyphenj3p17QjmX2TalmmJQaFm8G486nq7SwB20frD5bJBiOLMwRhpo0r6bvLUfjpTAHAvGl0q4zasz5sdQ7GXp-5VvR-2mVChIRhQp2bamWfcerYnPGeFEXw8hgZpaY/s1600/Cambodia-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHM7F3IApEkruB_Hhyphenhyphenj3p17QjmX2TalmmJQaFm8G486nq7SwB20frD5bJBiOLMwRhpo0r6bvLUfjpTAHAvGl0q4zasz5sdQ7GXp-5VvR-2mVChIRhQp2bamWfcerYnPGeFEXw8hgZpaY/s640/Cambodia-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views from the shade.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_Ghxq7WohGCKmiNgVQYD8fuPlmmfF3YrnY5wBUyo5cxiDK8rqR51KuKqbB9zIvTdXvVYJtMxFpnNTQT16VhD-TMIZ_0DBt3uk-e_skzhlaESOIckLIQ_GbjAH2iMrzPAdPRpu63XTHc/s1600/Cambodia-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_Ghxq7WohGCKmiNgVQYD8fuPlmmfF3YrnY5wBUyo5cxiDK8rqR51KuKqbB9zIvTdXvVYJtMxFpnNTQT16VhD-TMIZ_0DBt3uk-e_skzhlaESOIckLIQ_GbjAH2iMrzPAdPRpu63XTHc/s640/Cambodia-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a hard life.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqukDK4Tcb93KunVyztQT9WA6ejzN1FE8MguYvJfx0RYM2rtNbOqYe3CFvvgt0tRNnn9odpgSIZNRM8gkGQV15QnYmK6u3RrqoUoeEDI4JYq0JtGO0LcyLpVUEKYqQrQk8GzysmjiJsc/s1600/Cambodia-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqukDK4Tcb93KunVyztQT9WA6ejzN1FE8MguYvJfx0RYM2rtNbOqYe3CFvvgt0tRNnn9odpgSIZNRM8gkGQV15QnYmK6u3RrqoUoeEDI4JYq0JtGO0LcyLpVUEKYqQrQk8GzysmjiJsc/s640/Cambodia-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down Otres Beach.</td></tr>
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We had a couple of nights out on the town. We had to take a tuk-tuk in, but it was better to stay away from the general shit hole of Sihanoukville, and Serendipity Beach in particular which is the typical hell of young backpackers not accustomed to drinking, older sex tourists and a handful of louts. There were only a few bars, blaring out the modern dance remixes that have little appeal, except mass appeal, but I'm not sure who decided this should be the status quo of bar music. One of the bars was half filled with Cambodian prostitutes and older men, which wasn't really our scene, but we danced with some of the prostitutes anyway, for our own amusement. There was a young English guy in there, seemingly on his own, looking about 16 but I guess was 18. He looked like a fetal Mr Bean with milk bottle glasses, and was grinding around the stripping pole and going up behind girls with no fear, and I was encouraging him to hit on the girls I was with, just to watch their faces for my own sick amusement. He was drunk as hell and provided quite a bit of entertainment. The saga of the kid was enhanced the following day when we heard a story, of clearly the same person, from a bartender where we were staying. Apparently he had been riding his motorbike along the beach for some unknown reason when a dog ran out at him, causing him to veer off and ride his bike into the sea to escape. The bartender had helped him retrieve his bike. I heard no more of the kid but I guess he had a pretty interesting experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt34HMS1DP8qMLXJXfk1i9KgGpRtLDqA_llFHwAgwLmkkTyoxjTnV4rNyqYYT8bFwF-6CON6MUj5AqZ-p-wHroK3o4RD40KVwHp62BSK18orJxxH7z0TCeb2ZJjhn2KoMAGqY-B9aBHjw/s1600/Cambodia-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt34HMS1DP8qMLXJXfk1i9KgGpRtLDqA_llFHwAgwLmkkTyoxjTnV4rNyqYYT8bFwF-6CON6MUj5AqZ-p-wHroK3o4RD40KVwHp62BSK18orJxxH7z0TCeb2ZJjhn2KoMAGqY-B9aBHjw/s640/Cambodia-15.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liv with a bad Santa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFg9Ko4VACemNiHLyNLjCv1O6BcNKYQV-zR1NAR4ass-ZkMVKIIb19e5HFjs7r5szg_dL8r-zMMAn4sDv5LbTe5ES6e6Lv-122eoWGHF9NwVBDp5gDqx4uqeq2MP2tq9XcWEkcNSW5eo/s1600/Cambodia-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFg9Ko4VACemNiHLyNLjCv1O6BcNKYQV-zR1NAR4ass-ZkMVKIIb19e5HFjs7r5szg_dL8r-zMMAn4sDv5LbTe5ES6e6Lv-122eoWGHF9NwVBDp5gDqx4uqeq2MP2tq9XcWEkcNSW5eo/s640/Cambodia-14.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abby with a coconut.</td></tr>
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The days continued on the beach until Christmas Eve arrived, and we spent that evening listening to excellent live music in a beach bar, with the best harmonica playing I have ever heard in my life. He blew that thing like Hendrix on the guitar, and had me mesmerised. We walked down to our bungalows as the almost full moon set over the ocean and the stars burned like candles in the sky. High on life, we stripped to our skin and entered the sea. The luminescent plankton in the water lit up like fireflies as our arms and legs disturbed their suspension, and it was as magical as life can be. I went under water and opened my eyes. Lights streamed around in front of me and swirled like bouncing cigarettes on a night road. The plankton mirrored the shining stars above us, these were our Christmas lights, a real gift and a moment I'll never forget.<br />
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Christmas day was as relaxed as any other. We bought some bottles of liquor and drank them as the sun went down, ate a Christmas dinner of fried green vegetables and rice, and prepared for a night on the town. Alex and I had bought everyone a gift when we'd been at the market in Phnom Penh, just a Cambodian pen as a souvenir, but it was nice to have something to give. We wore our Santa hats, and Lars made himself a 'free hugs' sign to wear for the night, which proved very popular and he got everyone he hugged to sign the back of, which was a great memento. We danced away with a host of different tourists, some young Australians throwing up, that sort of thing, before deciding enough was enough and headed back to our beach for another 4am swim under the stars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwpaiia7cJxE8MSqe-Uz3jxYDmH2yqSkjgXvg8FgYA3G2zJQ5psptJo1ySFwFiXDISW5ETKoAJFi0jPjpEw441KK2vyb2CI4ykcnTURorlvdizI_dPoja43vbbCiZtOnJp_c1tl81sOs/s1600/Cambodia-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwpaiia7cJxE8MSqe-Uz3jxYDmH2yqSkjgXvg8FgYA3G2zJQ5psptJo1ySFwFiXDISW5ETKoAJFi0jPjpEw441KK2vyb2CI4ykcnTURorlvdizI_dPoja43vbbCiZtOnJp_c1tl81sOs/s640/Cambodia-19.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas day chilling.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6Vgtg1UGF1lMIgJTe7qKYIUs1_inUiNQibgOJ8X05ZaVJ2xP9UJhrM84kdkLFZwHS-2dFqMZgMaz5llKOfIA8fYEwYqE6UcS46C-o0O0iqVoDytTDj4n0X5MQCIqfFIAeI6b_u6OwgA/s1600/Cambodia-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6Vgtg1UGF1lMIgJTe7qKYIUs1_inUiNQibgOJ8X05ZaVJ2xP9UJhrM84kdkLFZwHS-2dFqMZgMaz5llKOfIA8fYEwYqE6UcS46C-o0O0iqVoDytTDj4n0X5MQCIqfFIAeI6b_u6OwgA/s640/Cambodia-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRw8ttgro9fSVXxIHsJHC1OrWSSzZMgRZeUFvrGzk7oIiSBHCvDdrEPz0TEgKJbl2d4EuNZGRwHi2GitY3f4bHFlv8ZfQLCXXYkBpyG0uQgapj-Lkm_6WJy5zM0zciapduqv5ymwN0-fU/s1600/Cambodia-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRw8ttgro9fSVXxIHsJHC1OrWSSzZMgRZeUFvrGzk7oIiSBHCvDdrEPz0TEgKJbl2d4EuNZGRwHi2GitY3f4bHFlv8ZfQLCXXYkBpyG0uQgapj-Lkm_6WJy5zM0zciapduqv5ymwN0-fU/s640/Cambodia-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet christmas beaches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyeYBQVp2QHBbnFUg-ync0CY7XAbqcJSbxUdeieWlrJplVymMeRLTbnNqPmlNpHR__bN9Hota7ReQI6DNqkVZkNqQhNKkk0E1cEqY-6gvO1-31xxbjvu8AbIwLArViy3gggZq1nyRAfw/s1600/Cambodia-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyeYBQVp2QHBbnFUg-ync0CY7XAbqcJSbxUdeieWlrJplVymMeRLTbnNqPmlNpHR__bN9Hota7ReQI6DNqkVZkNqQhNKkk0E1cEqY-6gvO1-31xxbjvu8AbIwLArViy3gggZq1nyRAfw/s640/Cambodia-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otres Beach is pretty quiet, just what we wanted.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypzO2Obu0TbSGh6lRYFuvxmMsDXIIaBGa7E0dzHCGje_O5wx2NIJi1QZuTwi3v59Wuf4ybtRBiBsqF6m-PTQjQSUb9nsHOox72dLQ4eyirRAOL-ACMyZ6ve94Ie3cmaJiSODwYjdZKHY/s1600/Cambodia-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypzO2Obu0TbSGh6lRYFuvxmMsDXIIaBGa7E0dzHCGje_O5wx2NIJi1QZuTwi3v59Wuf4ybtRBiBsqF6m-PTQjQSUb9nsHOox72dLQ4eyirRAOL-ACMyZ6ve94Ie3cmaJiSODwYjdZKHY/s640/Cambodia-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars dances to Chris Malinchak's 'So Good To Me', which had been our anthem of travelling together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOj-mD9HTubw2CgaSZXXMp1AZD2Irt5WxWrpE4gmwN8RymGZDocEJ-zcWTEOBwJQfNjUdG2-7hx6NvauckfpENgnpGiQXx7D5RTAKJy9v4bBkgHETdXgHnZxfM4_l9sR7qtWp_dpDYck/s1600/Cambodia-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOj-mD9HTubw2CgaSZXXMp1AZD2Irt5WxWrpE4gmwN8RymGZDocEJ-zcWTEOBwJQfNjUdG2-7hx6NvauckfpENgnpGiQXx7D5RTAKJy9v4bBkgHETdXgHnZxfM4_l9sR7qtWp_dpDYck/s640/Cambodia-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liv watches the Christmas sun go down.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiJ0rbHrgmCRvLmFEHSmufZXPwp_MCok6qY8Yd0FQrQZxEP_2chr4K7XiQbbPikYIGQ5gv2AEnyzbr9T_Ceaaom_HMIsO0B-6JihrYYG9WVfmjNDVa2Q1BJ4t8TU2HU6_FxhShimiO2g/s1600/Cambodia-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiJ0rbHrgmCRvLmFEHSmufZXPwp_MCok6qY8Yd0FQrQZxEP_2chr4K7XiQbbPikYIGQ5gv2AEnyzbr9T_Ceaaom_HMIsO0B-6JihrYYG9WVfmjNDVa2Q1BJ4t8TU2HU6_FxhShimiO2g/s640/Cambodia-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls take their Christmas photos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg112EIY3dO4hvtNmzlVWhk8uc-Tlide47F6Dig4AXQ-eqCNJFwbq4RvzPRvOAoWRqoA9jkWYfNOSb2E0CNM_P6CXOsKWImExcOUcXV9ah6rh19-WcFGWJ6zgnvhHQ35u-Q2IQ3d3GmRBo/s1600/Cambodia-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg112EIY3dO4hvtNmzlVWhk8uc-Tlide47F6Dig4AXQ-eqCNJFwbq4RvzPRvOAoWRqoA9jkWYfNOSb2E0CNM_P6CXOsKWImExcOUcXV9ah6rh19-WcFGWJ6zgnvhHQ35u-Q2IQ3d3GmRBo/s640/Cambodia-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars Hoffmann, one of the happiest men on the planet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfK7_LdpMHnSQI4U_0lA8dQhVlwD7w4G9bWu662aq0osZGTU6_HZi4Hsb12I9WUnFig6lox7TlU-KFsQHfc65XpRY5h-c-HuS-kWUkD48ZFnHoU3WV3U8P69p9sbF0HxWSeZ2_XYYykio/s1600/Cambodia-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfK7_LdpMHnSQI4U_0lA8dQhVlwD7w4G9bWu662aq0osZGTU6_HZi4Hsb12I9WUnFig6lox7TlU-KFsQHfc65XpRY5h-c-HuS-kWUkD48ZFnHoU3WV3U8P69p9sbF0HxWSeZ2_XYYykio/s640/Cambodia-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset leaping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOlG7BZVjg904Cn1fXEISZbAN_q1i3Bd7HxSpXPXejmfPmGi2_gEpL2YKiQyZwQSgAhISetYEZ1f0lA00sOIsrvICm8ZyRHzHiuJRLPl2LqXQww5Hsb3YceG5h-JmgVYIxGixprh_1O0/s1600/Cambodia-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOlG7BZVjg904Cn1fXEISZbAN_q1i3Bd7HxSpXPXejmfPmGi2_gEpL2YKiQyZwQSgAhISetYEZ1f0lA00sOIsrvICm8ZyRHzHiuJRLPl2LqXQww5Hsb3YceG5h-JmgVYIxGixprh_1O0/s640/Cambodia-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liv and Alex.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hKDAhN87KdfHDE1iIXiUpkSq199txKnVnWl3ywOPWPHq4EYJWDcUmw6ZhSk9UzhLGkwLHPnU4PoNyVn1PstkAAN8DYEQRbHhSh-MDlH8VfUnUXd6RRPyd9zrDpX1GkqW_tUrEwTOAsA/s1600/Cambodia-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hKDAhN87KdfHDE1iIXiUpkSq199txKnVnWl3ywOPWPHq4EYJWDcUmw6ZhSk9UzhLGkwLHPnU4PoNyVn1PstkAAN8DYEQRbHhSh-MDlH8VfUnUXd6RRPyd9zrDpX1GkqW_tUrEwTOAsA/s640/Cambodia-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the kids that occasionally came along to try and sell us stuff.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBOwTHqg_TfkZ1EDjbveFO0ZyNuc5efhe4-fAnJaTiCgt9r5dG5ebduhJzZPsQqJaoup7QvoZsY_xjf5ZaRbN4RrCm5hCNmKyYqefIsX5lQRpMD_OWziPS_zTigFBi9j8Duo_Rh0Ohd8/s1600/Cambodia-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBOwTHqg_TfkZ1EDjbveFO0ZyNuc5efhe4-fAnJaTiCgt9r5dG5ebduhJzZPsQqJaoup7QvoZsY_xjf5ZaRbN4RrCm5hCNmKyYqefIsX5lQRpMD_OWziPS_zTigFBi9j8Duo_Rh0Ohd8/s640/Cambodia-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUiaNuOMYcpBsI-fY0B4xAVJABv5pzWZ_AKv7WlmmFANbyxgWWKSWbE1z_KxhQNxD8yz-GLUGu8Hfahv2NyXrvhSh1d2-7Cq6TWVlFKEj1jxalrDBltU35-mX5dGPD2biSjqYKU48txGc/s1600/Cambodia-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUiaNuOMYcpBsI-fY0B4xAVJABv5pzWZ_AKv7WlmmFANbyxgWWKSWbE1z_KxhQNxD8yz-GLUGu8Hfahv2NyXrvhSh1d2-7Cq6TWVlFKEj1jxalrDBltU35-mX5dGPD2biSjqYKU48txGc/s640/Cambodia-38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun sets on Otres Beach on Christmas Day 2012.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3idFFVE1Yix08z_9JfGC5Rw1boFJ67H5dqRBo6pM8tkOxF2B6eWYbizSgDd5qMaHOAaujNtTUSz9yFAibYCCn7DycX3jMPwfY-QQuuAXY4JGHNV0QZgqgxYObDRRIF1gn-CvQ4Cgpwc/s1600/Cambodia-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3idFFVE1Yix08z_9JfGC5Rw1boFJ67H5dqRBo6pM8tkOxF2B6eWYbizSgDd5qMaHOAaujNtTUSz9yFAibYCCn7DycX3jMPwfY-QQuuAXY4JGHNV0QZgqgxYObDRRIF1gn-CvQ4Cgpwc/s640/Cambodia-39.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a nice sunset, so why not some cliched jumping silhouettes. Liv, Lars and Abby.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgk4VnSasSOw3_YZl7OqoHrqXWXYSNDnfNqtm_gsYzyGLlzYXUkHWJzmW2-F0EJWMUMG_D7pChoYi6InNSc5U3qGcQeBS_O2SvLGcAZNduUC02Nwjfk2udZ4OOKs5NKnhXb6af9K6Cx4/s1600/Cambodia-40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgk4VnSasSOw3_YZl7OqoHrqXWXYSNDnfNqtm_gsYzyGLlzYXUkHWJzmW2-F0EJWMUMG_D7pChoYi6InNSc5U3qGcQeBS_O2SvLGcAZNduUC02Nwjfk2udZ4OOKs5NKnhXb6af9K6Cx4/s640/Cambodia-40.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone gets involved.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5Xsy13BDDcyX3KpoFQWLzQCK_-BBPFpGaELJwvQnkHgkzxIFcDrqn58WoQcJOfadtJ5zm_Aqy_g_KhanO0z15n0YyU9bnCy1eBUqJy07vGffgGc-Hn1jVv-rMpn4to0jIM0sxbzNkaA/s1600/Cambodia-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5Xsy13BDDcyX3KpoFQWLzQCK_-BBPFpGaELJwvQnkHgkzxIFcDrqn58WoQcJOfadtJ5zm_Aqy_g_KhanO0z15n0YyU9bnCy1eBUqJy07vGffgGc-Hn1jVv-rMpn4to0jIM0sxbzNkaA/s640/Cambodia-41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Christmas Crew - me, Alex, Cristina, Liv, Abby, Lars and James.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOdgUiQrKEyGGFYSW9aP1sU8YncF3HQ5ROysjJMgwoYL5lBtKKo_RKG6rkZ5MSRvoiUlehI36TB8pMjA_htrjBjRg1_tc_botFCI3mBQFirKJpvdNSxf3ZGKmLHRfT_1dsX1FnkVLNyc/s1600/Cambodia-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOdgUiQrKEyGGFYSW9aP1sU8YncF3HQ5ROysjJMgwoYL5lBtKKo_RKG6rkZ5MSRvoiUlehI36TB8pMjA_htrjBjRg1_tc_botFCI3mBQFirKJpvdNSxf3ZGKmLHRfT_1dsX1FnkVLNyc/s640/Cambodia-33.jpg" width="418" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex getting ready to go out.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyKdlNNtTdyEES-uU2hyGDQeruwilZHJpNkCHSiioykLnNmxyQmtapTyjNkcV_AepuP2P4x1cgBxjo_PXZVWPCZACsc3wNb4xdGQf5PpJF9g1cXa-MB89U1JdbnCsrPx0MGFUEJqRt_k/s1600/Cambodia-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyKdlNNtTdyEES-uU2hyGDQeruwilZHJpNkCHSiioykLnNmxyQmtapTyjNkcV_AepuP2P4x1cgBxjo_PXZVWPCZACsc3wNb4xdGQf5PpJF9g1cXa-MB89U1JdbnCsrPx0MGFUEJqRt_k/s640/Cambodia-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abby and Liv.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1rvUx4v6szEoA70bND56XI0pIDoWShIY5uTyZlhfoROiMzoEgbMlyDomwQ2kR1MYTfeAUy4cigWbVLmr8eWixKm9qkWTyfdAWY-eYK42ic8x_dh0Q2JjiTREO1l7z8Vl2N8ZXqDPxeo/s1600/Cambodia-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1rvUx4v6szEoA70bND56XI0pIDoWShIY5uTyZlhfoROiMzoEgbMlyDomwQ2kR1MYTfeAUy4cigWbVLmr8eWixKm9qkWTyfdAWY-eYK42ic8x_dh0Q2JjiTREO1l7z8Vl2N8ZXqDPxeo/s640/Cambodia-34.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some kind of 70s paedo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKYyfdvUMWKtyHIzxOU7IM4IQCLrEQ7d5jz8WTAUeRZbPQWRugPdkUVFtmzngsYdKfn2iT7CXXJj3i2Y4lCWjg-D98GijD2ASgEhFn1BJInfoQk6IqZ9pMmBgwk-L3vzn__naSSAkTLg/s1600/Cambodia-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKYyfdvUMWKtyHIzxOU7IM4IQCLrEQ7d5jz8WTAUeRZbPQWRugPdkUVFtmzngsYdKfn2iT7CXXJj3i2Y4lCWjg-D98GijD2ASgEhFn1BJInfoQk6IqZ9pMmBgwk-L3vzn__naSSAkTLg/s640/Cambodia-35.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars with his sign.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjO6yV83QNMvrtJHYruhAqipu-tfJ4wtRAB6tmyfLuUgqeLxdhJ2GVKfDM-grmN5-TRnaBnawTz4oHN5rYhIoPm5C1fXcgSShpvfce5OyviPhKGi7x0F6fCrnZiAPYPS-chbdz9cbUY3E/s1600/Cambodia-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjO6yV83QNMvrtJHYruhAqipu-tfJ4wtRAB6tmyfLuUgqeLxdhJ2GVKfDM-grmN5-TRnaBnawTz4oHN5rYhIoPm5C1fXcgSShpvfce5OyviPhKGi7x0F6fCrnZiAPYPS-chbdz9cbUY3E/s640/Cambodia-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before leaving the beach for town.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVcXrYJBOAh9sijxZQBNl9XUS9Z2BRHgl06jtlHGdlZKLeeA3cVRm_aZAWZGJWCsjllJ2iIVI_jYXiHx0TNsaZRuWKgWs-Ep4QBVQIZONRurOIwOSdgHUsLVsjrbl3KZ-PiMoGY5RTnE/s1600/Cambodia-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVcXrYJBOAh9sijxZQBNl9XUS9Z2BRHgl06jtlHGdlZKLeeA3cVRm_aZAWZGJWCsjllJ2iIVI_jYXiHx0TNsaZRuWKgWs-Ep4QBVQIZONRurOIwOSdgHUsLVsjrbl3KZ-PiMoGY5RTnE/s640/Cambodia-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas everyone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Christmas passed and two days later Abby and Liv left to head to Thailand where they would be spending New Year. Lars, Cristina and I decided to have a break from our beach and went on a boat trip for a day, where we visited three islands, with some spots of snorkelling, which were ok. The visibility was alright, and the variety of coral and fish was alright, but it was nothing spectacular. It was still nice to do, as snorkelling is one of my favourite holiday things to do. We visited a beautiful beach where the sea was tap water clear and we had fun with Lars' waterproof camera taking some underwater shots and enjoying the sea.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOlCopOIwA4w5FEj8LkmIM7X_D22ynbDuUQV49Jk1BDD9G3R8ZvdKFjFH9LzCsNg-IuSHV-R2fIUV6C02D6C8Gtnkz2hiiZrJhyxx8XXmfFv6ngdHPvkLxJdbH9pQGIMI6iuZkqzaVMc/s1600/Cambodia-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOlCopOIwA4w5FEj8LkmIM7X_D22ynbDuUQV49Jk1BDD9G3R8ZvdKFjFH9LzCsNg-IuSHV-R2fIUV6C02D6C8Gtnkz2hiiZrJhyxx8XXmfFv6ngdHPvkLxJdbH9pQGIMI6iuZkqzaVMc/s640/Cambodia-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snorkelling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwCMmbmqVdbp6bqK6NYxFLkb2RIoElbRBAfQiw4KippTZG8-1GpW4jfEX6QLU56ma5hyphenhyphenQpzJVQM4Ege4m8ZyAz3WEXX46udSiVFIBml0U72-TuhNNWjzjSUFE5ocll6a-A48MTqkp_Nc/s1600/Cambodia-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwCMmbmqVdbp6bqK6NYxFLkb2RIoElbRBAfQiw4KippTZG8-1GpW4jfEX6QLU56ma5hyphenhyphenQpzJVQM4Ege4m8ZyAz3WEXX46udSiVFIBml0U72-TuhNNWjzjSUFE5ocll6a-A48MTqkp_Nc/s640/Cambodia-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars on the boat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROLfgcYp3qYnrH_a7dj1h_wH70N90lZidpJJOaGpLN6nh5MhGI2zXUhqE9YVjQ4qRbQE8h5MNuLn_rjkgHl5V0cikerBM_MVb9Nj9nEpLNB2J-Q2iNw_rVlZ0DDYQAMSL1_zXkFaKC6A/s1600/Cambodia-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROLfgcYp3qYnrH_a7dj1h_wH70N90lZidpJJOaGpLN6nh5MhGI2zXUhqE9YVjQ4qRbQE8h5MNuLn_rjkgHl5V0cikerBM_MVb9Nj9nEpLNB2J-Q2iNw_rVlZ0DDYQAMSL1_zXkFaKC6A/s640/Cambodia-44.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars and Cristina in the sea.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPZzX434wWOjgbVbsOW9Zy_UPvvEPnbNo7LuN7hK3Area7CrTB8IOijbAQf0GUON-6TSdMNfmxtFq2UarDQdPbeC3FAfkS9xr6eloY77IEboUGtFwxTM0b-tA576fLJZS5KBrjsDWwg8/s1600/Cambodia-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPZzX434wWOjgbVbsOW9Zy_UPvvEPnbNo7LuN7hK3Area7CrTB8IOijbAQf0GUON-6TSdMNfmxtFq2UarDQdPbeC3FAfkS9xr6eloY77IEboUGtFwxTM0b-tA576fLJZS5KBrjsDWwg8/s640/Cambodia-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Cristina and Lars.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLok1348afw7LcCawnLfzqpOkX6oSSqsbI4Pw7ELHeqXAflQDDl84z8N9GPzrouaLMl34YQE6lGej_S3NSitLiutm-AF9LzQVZlmNVBbLwenJru4ZIz2ML-6AM6LJLC_zIF_an2KwkrU/s1600/Cambodia-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLok1348afw7LcCawnLfzqpOkX6oSSqsbI4Pw7ELHeqXAflQDDl84z8N9GPzrouaLMl34YQE6lGej_S3NSitLiutm-AF9LzQVZlmNVBbLwenJru4ZIz2ML-6AM6LJLC_zIF_an2KwkrU/s640/Cambodia-46.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was like a swimming pool. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYdTNexMWBFpbWJZchu2P9-ZuHYu4FiUXYf1dL0DkVe_6MdwA5MqkJJ9f4kkk70BwFs6ONQaowgbArDxK81PZc2WKND6RBRRKKXLKE7O-9TXOCwmaxyFtKDpVrh6Cb8MRMLEZBAPQZ30/s1600/Cambodia-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYdTNexMWBFpbWJZchu2P9-ZuHYu4FiUXYf1dL0DkVe_6MdwA5MqkJJ9f4kkk70BwFs6ONQaowgbArDxK81PZc2WKND6RBRRKKXLKE7O-9TXOCwmaxyFtKDpVrh6Cb8MRMLEZBAPQZ30/s640/Cambodia-47.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was some sea life.</td></tr>
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<br />
The 28th was the full moon, and as obligatory over Asia parties pop up and here was no different. We decided to head into town for another night of drinking, though I was a little bored of the bars and music by now, it was fun, but not really my scene, and as expected at these beach parties someone stole my flip-flops, so I had to steal some girls two sizes two small to go home in.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF_aiMzLbgrSXFprqVB3pquGkPNPQv785CFoJL_eAk8mtB8Xalihnju-tRjyTHH_LPY7POODNgPR3fIjgmgl9jtZqptLaJXT7roc4Yi69MDpcw7LIz2U7poS3tvtuWclRJJxmxho6rIM/s1600/Cambodia-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF_aiMzLbgrSXFprqVB3pquGkPNPQv785CFoJL_eAk8mtB8Xalihnju-tRjyTHH_LPY7POODNgPR3fIjgmgl9jtZqptLaJXT7roc4Yi69MDpcw7LIz2U7poS3tvtuWclRJJxmxho6rIM/s640/Cambodia-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last full moon of 2012 sets over the sea. </td></tr>
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By the time New Years came, it was only Lars and I remaining, Alex, James and Cristina had gone to other parts of Cambodia, fancying a change of scenery. We opted to stay on our own beach, which still had a few bars but were a bit more mature and our scene, and no prostitutes around, just more like-minded people. The main bar, Richies, we didn't arrive at until 11.50, having been drinking our own booze on the porch of our bungalow until taking a late dinner on the beach. The music was a great mix of soul, funk, hip hop and eventually my preferred kind of techno, and we danced on the beach all night until the sun came up, and then when it did we danced ankle deep in the sea until 9am, a perfect way to welcome in the New Year, before finally retiring to bed for some much needed sleep. I didn't get up until almost dusk on January 1st.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIhumvucOw89OOTygBOwgBwX-WWmxdbOLxCwsbJ7hjVqP4O-2IrAmsObbdmj4gHcraKLBuwKvTfrT_THQ56fWvKamyDgFLQck3O20p00Ctg8fYm8ot9k3nEqISTMdC9kTSsS0IL7fQWI/s1600/Cambodia-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIhumvucOw89OOTygBOwgBwX-WWmxdbOLxCwsbJ7hjVqP4O-2IrAmsObbdmj4gHcraKLBuwKvTfrT_THQ56fWvKamyDgFLQck3O20p00Ctg8fYm8ot9k3nEqISTMdC9kTSsS0IL7fQWI/s640/Cambodia-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars leaps in the sea on December 31st.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0EGhOJDqLUuKB2zqHkYpuONuAH_Smnwe5Bflnxb_btynuVOsG-JdFlBP2eexwIKTL09gN9l5Hx87c95dtidxwjJEH1i2uBc_s8fD1JSA5ZVKjVtLdaO77-b6ndkGLIoY_PEeAnESJIKI/s1600/Cambodia-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0EGhOJDqLUuKB2zqHkYpuONuAH_Smnwe5Bflnxb_btynuVOsG-JdFlBP2eexwIKTL09gN9l5Hx87c95dtidxwjJEH1i2uBc_s8fD1JSA5ZVKjVtLdaO77-b6ndkGLIoY_PEeAnESJIKI/s640/Cambodia-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final sunset of 2012 - it'd been a great year.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphengpINDw_rTYYjwJM8cP3KHlRKs2bHiGt25N61evJYUl1w86eQKk09nW559TcElmP6dTCpe8Ad4MuLUmLmMLjAF08BcWmYVVbqwf-5sHp4Loy1KkUDi-CHtKlZ0_9ZFyZPZ8mkDJRIJ0/s1600/Cambodia-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphengpINDw_rTYYjwJM8cP3KHlRKs2bHiGt25N61evJYUl1w86eQKk09nW559TcElmP6dTCpe8Ad4MuLUmLmMLjAF08BcWmYVVbqwf-5sHp4Loy1KkUDi-CHtKlZ0_9ZFyZPZ8mkDJRIJ0/s640/Cambodia-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking along the beach towards the bar, and fireworks were popping off all around us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq1JaW8uzPTHFv49MhUc0hyQa5-HqSQwK48vK5pmxy2lFpM7rk2QSOd5HN-EPl_U7HUVxRlSRJ2T1REo3CeWn-B1ZrV_2Qf3pzrNeME1ji-mKN2UzMSUBEYfdnmS0NtAeooad19xAXSM/s1600/Cambodia-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq1JaW8uzPTHFv49MhUc0hyQa5-HqSQwK48vK5pmxy2lFpM7rk2QSOd5HN-EPl_U7HUVxRlSRJ2T1REo3CeWn-B1ZrV_2Qf3pzrNeME1ji-mKN2UzMSUBEYfdnmS0NtAeooad19xAXSM/s640/Cambodia-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the bars on the beach.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-ZeihCSBf_1Zv3r_othUV-ME3OzfkMRy7JcLatzMfFedBX0lozR6EIlW8xvAVmlbppVPnefm_djDgCWmR6kgSWILj0PouSRm1UDgYqaMFfCHo7TSN5Tw2XkmShcrZctTSu5D7NkUCYM/s1600/Cambodia-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-ZeihCSBf_1Zv3r_othUV-ME3OzfkMRy7JcLatzMfFedBX0lozR6EIlW8xvAVmlbppVPnefm_djDgCWmR6kgSWILj0PouSRm1UDgYqaMFfCHo7TSN5Tw2XkmShcrZctTSu5D7NkUCYM/s640/Cambodia-53.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 15 year old Cambodian girl selling joints. No different to London.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlXo6_KhstgygvHvjCb2TSTgYRousS8P9m_rWD3FMkSFBwxwaMe-8xlIKYTfsviiLb_aZwv5fQ7hU-rcHx9zjmrJHxz2adqtFfhmJA72ODW9ElGP6n4xTacGhsvxQzZhqUYfgIWi7M_Q/s1600/Cambodia-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlXo6_KhstgygvHvjCb2TSTgYRousS8P9m_rWD3FMkSFBwxwaMe-8xlIKYTfsviiLb_aZwv5fQ7hU-rcHx9zjmrJHxz2adqtFfhmJA72ODW9ElGP6n4xTacGhsvxQzZhqUYfgIWi7M_Q/s640/Cambodia-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cambodians signing Lars' hug board.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYt43vB2lRwPv2_1MvBqZBUfg_eSbeeRj4UZD1PSPCPPgA_fi-DiljhifnMLorrXzGypPz1i7LGHnvLtSpe2Oer-rThXPrW5ybDTI-OAoQLKjR5Tn6aRMr7QwWqmMB4MARaYzLt1agsQc/s1600/Cambodia-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYt43vB2lRwPv2_1MvBqZBUfg_eSbeeRj4UZD1PSPCPPgA_fi-DiljhifnMLorrXzGypPz1i7LGHnvLtSpe2Oer-rThXPrW5ybDTI-OAoQLKjR5Tn6aRMr7QwWqmMB4MARaYzLt1agsQc/s640/Cambodia-55.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ritchies Bar New Years Eve party.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr43qBDLvcZ580jOWJHiyRz_QvgdS82wMBOK4ZvvLmFn8-KpgRsqnBsHz7a35UvSzJPj5RNONAQyS0jytWrTysFc2vPhzND-kUAq0ER25OwMAKiI7tHnKsvigl0gNI9unZFdveS12hy0Q/s1600/Cambodia-56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr43qBDLvcZ580jOWJHiyRz_QvgdS82wMBOK4ZvvLmFn8-KpgRsqnBsHz7a35UvSzJPj5RNONAQyS0jytWrTysFc2vPhzND-kUAq0ER25OwMAKiI7tHnKsvigl0gNI9unZFdveS12hy0Q/s640/Cambodia-56.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some other weird stuff going on, travellers making balloon animals for the local kids at 1am, I didn't understand why.</td></tr>
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<br />
My Christmas and New Year in Cambodia had been everything I had hoped for. It had been a fantastic ten days of both relaxation and debauchery, I just wished I could have had some sausages wrapped in bacon, but other than that, I couldn't have asked for more and will be a time I will never forget.</div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-73786813121420464192013-01-13T01:46:00.000-08:002014-01-17T17:14:51.131-08:00Something like a Phnom Penh <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8oDDr4HI7AIagYwfdMcwLiXR1vfSMmNIalKic7sLIUkDQ2c51BX7T3YyPWMbhXhGhCy1UYroVk0VEsefSC2HuHqYwVw8IP8Xt0UvzEnIQQdKoBHPLukK-uwQs2u8nmxz2CI29LboemQ/s1600/Cambodia-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8oDDr4HI7AIagYwfdMcwLiXR1vfSMmNIalKic7sLIUkDQ2c51BX7T3YyPWMbhXhGhCy1UYroVk0VEsefSC2HuHqYwVw8IP8Xt0UvzEnIQQdKoBHPLukK-uwQs2u8nmxz2CI29LboemQ/s640/Cambodia-11.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, hey we're the monks. </td></tr>
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Alex and I took the afternoon bus from Saigon to Phnom Penh, the border control was painless and we arrived at dusk in Cambodia's capital. The ride through Cambodia showed a fairly stark contrast to Vietnam. The country was evidently much poorer and the first sights we were greeted with when the bus took a rest stop was naked children playing in the dust; their mothers arms outstretched with empty bowls in our direction asking for money. The landscape was flat and the distant horizon reminded me of home, but ramshackle shacks lined the road, and many of the houses were on stilts, perhaps to provide shade underneath or to keep livestock.<br />
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Once in the city we took a tuk-tuk to a hostel where James was staying, a friend of Alex's from Lichfield who he had met in Australia the year previous. That evening we drank in an upstairs bar with a mix of younger expats and travellers until closing time, and finished the night with 4am hot dogs delivered to our hostel. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhW_u3mBA6Aul4vD0Ffm9thx7XC58GTs4YRqHFBqTtBpVc8Vykg0gDln3UiVJ_zCLOqJIpzHmQmR2yv9fTL_dnfg5iECgMjqx_q9XD9wehoJtjcwrVU7-aIrhaNKLD3IJHZM7LJJxkYw/s1600/Cambodia-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhW_u3mBA6Aul4vD0Ffm9thx7XC58GTs4YRqHFBqTtBpVc8Vykg0gDln3UiVJ_zCLOqJIpzHmQmR2yv9fTL_dnfg5iECgMjqx_q9XD9wehoJtjcwrVU7-aIrhaNKLD3IJHZM7LJJxkYw/s640/Cambodia-1.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phnom Penh roads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r5SzHoeZr3VP_sy6oR3NQloKYp2Fk6BNRlymfzz6UZLSPi24cjkwZ_7QuKRVFiqIT29oYTYmq0src2uLpa8UUJLa0VDclfueGeboj5TFkPFGTIemns07kabmmLP3elABNBxjUaOtHSE/s1600/Cambodia-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r5SzHoeZr3VP_sy6oR3NQloKYp2Fk6BNRlymfzz6UZLSPi24cjkwZ_7QuKRVFiqIT29oYTYmq0src2uLpa8UUJLa0VDclfueGeboj5TFkPFGTIemns07kabmmLP3elABNBxjUaOtHSE/s640/Cambodia-10.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gutter reflections.</td></tr>
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We had one full day in Phnom Penh before we would be heading to Sihanoukville to spend Christmas and New Year on the coast with Lars, Abby and Liv who we would be meeting there. That afternoon in the city we had a wander through the streets and got a feel for the city before heading to the central market for a spot of bartering and shopping. I liked Phnom Penh, it felt slightly wild and a little edgy. Security men rode by on motorbikes with AK-47s strapped to their backs, tuk-tuk drivers would attempt to offer us girls or drugs, which of course we declined, but I enjoyed the relative feeling of lawlessness, even if everything was fairly orderly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePkYjfD5pHhZ5uh2TOAVcScIwLkuHIX68nZ1Th9q-g8dBUztBmdUnBIX7dMp5UoHpfJ5-nKMeN3pny3XAjdGk8WwCry3ggRB5Mny9RdvahnwBCcyqZYoPftlX51_htCOQoFYpK0HtBDQ/s1600/Cambodia-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePkYjfD5pHhZ5uh2TOAVcScIwLkuHIX68nZ1Th9q-g8dBUztBmdUnBIX7dMp5UoHpfJ5-nKMeN3pny3XAjdGk8WwCry3ggRB5Mny9RdvahnwBCcyqZYoPftlX51_htCOQoFYpK0HtBDQ/s640/Cambodia-3.jpg" height="256" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No hand grenades in the shopping mall, please. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlz028jKg6Q311Lq6BAPjT9s5PWgpj9CXzitzhlnNjcXmTqymqUE6C7Ol03ewlmg9zfAo82VPZ3hFzMH_gbdSGBEdTQF8rCM_MBHOeqIbB27eSofitCrppN5yhU4u3k8uoOGTzl72w2Y/s1600/Cambodia-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlz028jKg6Q311Lq6BAPjT9s5PWgpj9CXzitzhlnNjcXmTqymqUE6C7Ol03ewlmg9zfAo82VPZ3hFzMH_gbdSGBEdTQF8rCM_MBHOeqIbB27eSofitCrppN5yhU4u3k8uoOGTzl72w2Y/s640/Cambodia-2.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The central market looms at the end of the street.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wHIcojQuxa9dkr2Zps6FcHbtTnp0lQPA67JzlY-Lr6wMGY_mXpIFclxcf4kGmxvuUqwTRxOiT_AOBCQNoVzfiKhRfXPH7vfbUIe7_NECkrd5biRyOA742aMG9QxPB7P9sOsTMlGt5ME/s1600/Cambodia-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wHIcojQuxa9dkr2Zps6FcHbtTnp0lQPA67JzlY-Lr6wMGY_mXpIFclxcf4kGmxvuUqwTRxOiT_AOBCQNoVzfiKhRfXPH7vfbUIe7_NECkrd5biRyOA742aMG9QxPB7P9sOsTMlGt5ME/s640/Cambodia-4.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phnom Penh's central market. </td></tr>
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The market was great. There was much less hassle and pressure than the markets in Saigon, no one grabbed my arm and looked aggressively into my eyes when I stalled or teased on a purchase. Cambodians seemed really friendly and warm, and I took an instant liking to them. Smiles were always returned and haggling was a pleasurable and comedic game rather than a war of negotiation. Everything was housed in the cavernous hall, from clothes, jewellery, electronics, household goods, the lot, with food and flowers on the peripheries which bordered the street. I did a little bit of Christmas shopping, just small gifts for family, even though they wont be receiving them until I am home later in January.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAhycB0hq8NYctDAPYwrJQCdGy8eZl-76pGW8MGuf7xYHspvDHdX4CFoCsbjKIM4C5_XaxrizlqBCMCtMrBdFsBxXAPYp7Sm2JylSDBaLUGBsr5BcmPTRxEIXJ5cDaIktAMEWhbD9RIo/s1600/Cambodia-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAhycB0hq8NYctDAPYwrJQCdGy8eZl-76pGW8MGuf7xYHspvDHdX4CFoCsbjKIM4C5_XaxrizlqBCMCtMrBdFsBxXAPYp7Sm2JylSDBaLUGBsr5BcmPTRxEIXJ5cDaIktAMEWhbD9RIo/s640/Cambodia-8.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The central atrium of the market. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzsPz3uTGBSGcSTjf4YiZgXGOvn6eexmdaDKVxbQt4n5IpamUp1hMlDRuQ_oVd3N_TWS12BwdPKMj5smJ2xUK6awMbjySrW1i6y_FWZ21rKRWwmKpIxq7OERtoOFGa7bok899Df-vlhE/s1600/Cambodia-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzsPz3uTGBSGcSTjf4YiZgXGOvn6eexmdaDKVxbQt4n5IpamUp1hMlDRuQ_oVd3N_TWS12BwdPKMj5smJ2xUK6awMbjySrW1i6y_FWZ21rKRWwmKpIxq7OERtoOFGa7bok899Df-vlhE/s640/Cambodia-5.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Food sellers outside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbapPBjcUQrPxNw6fXemgSHNTgJmETo2pC7-blFG54UTy38ab41JYAVXTUYcNbt1KdY_526yN60jeJiF9ERfNZqC4y47T_TkG-5fNaZyLscQFj0Jtqz_CeBjFyxzTZhrcVm4SK7cS4F4/s1600/Cambodia-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbapPBjcUQrPxNw6fXemgSHNTgJmETo2pC7-blFG54UTy38ab41JYAVXTUYcNbt1KdY_526yN60jeJiF9ERfNZqC4y47T_TkG-5fNaZyLscQFj0Jtqz_CeBjFyxzTZhrcVm4SK7cS4F4/s640/Cambodia-9.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh flowers for sale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTN31geU_A4qlhq005Nfx-HRlIjp834FKYuY3ACwEeUYEwWO8szW8L0Ho2lSVGaTSz9C1qFqCmHlieGKnQTc5Iet9dMIEzE1y1E5ne0Jr_2ahmTNqcAGPtDG2vSlSnwdtEdfahbEunw00/s1600/Cambodia-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTN31geU_A4qlhq005Nfx-HRlIjp834FKYuY3ACwEeUYEwWO8szW8L0Ho2lSVGaTSz9C1qFqCmHlieGKnQTc5Iet9dMIEzE1y1E5ne0Jr_2ahmTNqcAGPtDG2vSlSnwdtEdfahbEunw00/s640/Cambodia-6.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the market.</td></tr>
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That evening I had a quiet one, catching up with picture editing and this blog, as the following day we would be leaving the city on the bus to the coast, to meet up with our friends from Vietnam. I'd be returning to Phnom Penh in ten days or so, as I still wanted to visit the famous Killing Fields, to learn about the tragedy that occurred in the country in the late 70s, but decided that ignorance is bliss and would rather not know the details of the events whilst I tried to enjoy myself over the Christmas period.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Phnom Penh Part Two</h3>
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I returned to Phnom Penh on January 2nd after a wonderful ten days on the beach. My bus from Sihanoukville arrived at midnight, and earlier in the day I'd been looking online for a place to stay, but most seemed to be full for the night. I did find room at one inn, a type of Irish bar that had private rooms available and so my tuk-tuk dropped me off there, along with a girl from New Zealand I'd met taking the bus back to the city who also had nowhere to stay, so I recommended my place to her. Upon arrival the American owner poured us a beer, and I never made it to my room until 5am, as beer and intriguing conversations flowed. It was essentially a lock in with the American owner, who became lazy and allowed me to go behind the bar to pour my own pints, and even got me to roll his joints for him, which I didn't mind. Also in the scene was a middle aged Texan who claimed to work as a mercenary, predominantly in Africa and Sierra Leone, a 40-something east Londoner who was incredibly bright and well-read, and we had some interesting conversations, and a 30 year old American tourist who worked on movies and commercials in LA. It was an interesting mix and Cambodia seemed to be a haven for expat characters who were perhaps running from something at home. It's hard to say, but a lot of people I met seemed to have a similar thread running through them, it was intriguing, and added to the excitement of the city.<br />
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The following lunchtime I met up with Todd, the LA American from the night before, and we shared a tuk-tuk to the Killing Fields together. It's a short ride out of town, and is one of many locations across Cambodia in which Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge murdered about 30% of the population, including women and children; as professionals, intellectuals and political opponents were wiped out in an attempt to create an agrarian totalitarian communism, as far as my understanding of it goes. I'll try and read a book on it when I go home. It's added to the list of books on Asian history I know nothing about.<br />
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I was surprised by how small the site was. It was no bigger than the average town park you'd find at home, but it had been the scene of the most brutal crimes just 30 or so years ago. An audio guide is provided to explain the horrors which occurred here, as prisoners of the regime were delivered here, usually from the prison S-21 in town, to be executed. Nationalist songs were blasted from speakers suspended from trees, so local residents wouldn't hear the screams and cries of those being murdered. Often the weapons used were simple. The local palms have sharply serrated edges, and these were used to slit the throats of victims, before being tossed into a pit. Iron bars were cheaper than bullets so others were bludgeoned, and the most harrowing was the murder of babies and infants. They were simply held by the ankles and smashed into the bark of a tree trunk. Impossible to think how these smiling and warm Cambodians I had met had been capable of such crimes. I could say the same of any nation. The Japanese were the most polite and serene people I'd met, the Germans some of the friendliest and most fun, and us British have plenty of literal skeletons in our national closet. All of humanity is capable of unimaginable brutality, but how these things get to happen on an industrial and complicit scale I find mind boggling.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLzVc8v7WXixlgD8p8bw2HtqLpOylVROV1_97uTAfM2Rcv8tPKo2nmH3u6gtMIHsZO4H5_LBHAESiGmjrQbLSpKYY2lWxVMT5sEiH-ZvuygAfX48WQYkPmQu9C5GalSfCHrQ2w5gf3jo/s1600/Cambodia-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLzVc8v7WXixlgD8p8bw2HtqLpOylVROV1_97uTAfM2Rcv8tPKo2nmH3u6gtMIHsZO4H5_LBHAESiGmjrQbLSpKYY2lWxVMT5sEiH-ZvuygAfX48WQYkPmQu9C5GalSfCHrQ2w5gf3jo/s640/Cambodia-57.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The local palms with the toothed edges used for slitting throats still grow in the grounds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtu5yXXfCM5RKMRaj-MwYwXxS-xtSVFuX8Rdre6KFm4v4Fv-So3BQR6vjgMmz7zbHcuE2IXp9UrY9wylH2_aYdYpKr2tGISxr381CftLw28uKj5gZ2vBpplAuTG8I7i99d7FOW0IcOvw/s1600/Cambodia-58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtu5yXXfCM5RKMRaj-MwYwXxS-xtSVFuX8Rdre6KFm4v4Fv-So3BQR6vjgMmz7zbHcuE2IXp9UrY9wylH2_aYdYpKr2tGISxr381CftLw28uKj5gZ2vBpplAuTG8I7i99d7FOW0IcOvw/s640/Cambodia-58.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the excavated burial pits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW-izWPjfo-Mif0_4t8p89mOub3LCXS7e25UnD3kGrCmfdkz0wSXo8Cg7te-4tTw34RSKwBsEDZbki0FtePaYwZSrk77tDcHkP_edKgt8a4adWh6V46ve_o-wDk9sw0LpoedEFQiAaL0/s1600/Cambodia-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW-izWPjfo-Mif0_4t8p89mOub3LCXS7e25UnD3kGrCmfdkz0wSXo8Cg7te-4tTw34RSKwBsEDZbki0FtePaYwZSrk77tDcHkP_edKgt8a4adWh6V46ve_o-wDk9sw0LpoedEFQiAaL0/s640/Cambodia-59.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tree against which infants were beaten to death.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnv70bJcZXPjFCagrJLLKkeIRlmuJ_H0Dw7y65HRoGlcSZy_0FM8oix7dH6s032q2lz_QNhKK0mDC-4Dm5zNSblO_lfUJARmeqTBmQeHlrtpwSiIjqJcaSUYRZJuXQVyC5BHekDBroXY/s1600/Cambodia-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnv70bJcZXPjFCagrJLLKkeIRlmuJ_H0Dw7y65HRoGlcSZy_0FM8oix7dH6s032q2lz_QNhKK0mDC-4Dm5zNSblO_lfUJARmeqTBmQeHlrtpwSiIjqJcaSUYRZJuXQVyC5BHekDBroXY/s640/Cambodia-60.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visitors walk over human bones as they still erode to the surface.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhov1yxxBUQG78vP0EeCMUZW8cEAUWnV4a6E9RRTnfMkSZnNWwkuUJDMRiRoJ07ROYGefSS8koSncn8Oo2cGCgDs431ZUfHCMp5lclNOc4tVojRk7XyELvPUl_ykcUCDt1KCs4u9pPBi6U/s1600/Cambodia-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhov1yxxBUQG78vP0EeCMUZW8cEAUWnV4a6E9RRTnfMkSZnNWwkuUJDMRiRoJ07ROYGefSS8koSncn8Oo2cGCgDs431ZUfHCMp5lclNOc4tVojRk7XyELvPUl_ykcUCDt1KCs4u9pPBi6U/s640/Cambodia-61.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pagoda in the centre of the sight houses thousands of skulls unearthed from the mass graves.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw53jex-xWVt_j-AuaoFJO_Mg7k0_aWWwI8qdHjZjq88Paax4EcmLIDVc-SBbtUSarpekzri8EnaO8DZI7S-_2Grf9h2SZZw6y5AythgvsMNRDCBOX4DVAgXXIPOpBbinSlXWpfbglEY/s1600/Cambodia-62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw53jex-xWVt_j-AuaoFJO_Mg7k0_aWWwI8qdHjZjq88Paax4EcmLIDVc-SBbtUSarpekzri8EnaO8DZI7S-_2Grf9h2SZZw6y5AythgvsMNRDCBOX4DVAgXXIPOpBbinSlXWpfbglEY/s640/Cambodia-62.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine being in the marketing meeting when this baseball cap was commissioned. </td></tr>
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After visiting the Killing Field, Todd and I rode the tuk-tuk back into town to visit S-21 the infamous Khmer Rouge prison where opponents were held, interrogated, tortured and often executed. The building had previously been one of Phnom Penh's schools before the regime took over, and classrooms had been turned into cells, and blood splats remained on the ceilings. The building is now a monument to the victims, with thousand of portraits of the victims taken by the regime on show, room after room of black and white portraits of sad looking Cambodians of all ages.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjI3ETUJw0B3gUNBv6Y8ygMwC28AHbhaefmJodutcB2k2z1eMo_tiQJ-iOiY-zqKbCwp67O177PfsxRR9jCLUCbEn8vQa7WDUSWSSRO67p4zsSKvD8jW_GqwsYFTEmTBvnWer5T0kg1vQ/s1600/Cambodia-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjI3ETUJw0B3gUNBv6Y8ygMwC28AHbhaefmJodutcB2k2z1eMo_tiQJ-iOiY-zqKbCwp67O177PfsxRR9jCLUCbEn8vQa7WDUSWSSRO67p4zsSKvD8jW_GqwsYFTEmTBvnWer5T0kg1vQ/s640/Cambodia-63.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes we thought our school was torture, this was actual school based torture. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-EhH-jcovBSJmstrCkYRK2QbeV0fMsDSyj9EnEho52nf9wO6PT2hLq5Zsdu5MSugd0Yxzr3EnFigPkoIzPHWBpnJuOkboJ1WWh81RiC8imTtkATSznpw5lZ5qwcd4h5edxjyy6xma2I/s1600/Cambodia-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-EhH-jcovBSJmstrCkYRK2QbeV0fMsDSyj9EnEho52nf9wO6PT2hLq5Zsdu5MSugd0Yxzr3EnFigPkoIzPHWBpnJuOkboJ1WWh81RiC8imTtkATSznpw5lZ5qwcd4h5edxjyy6xma2I/s640/Cambodia-64.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the complex.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6StGeOJYaSNNXSOvN9edFNxIsf1ZKPDfvQV01NxsrDh_OvvhoMxPU8qid-GZWRj6sROj4-aiBMdGikqr-3gUMgTGnP5l_ugXAdyAEftt-jawb9iObaUZpYFB_dKXqn5pgtOVAnbYalk/s1600/Cambodia-65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6StGeOJYaSNNXSOvN9edFNxIsf1ZKPDfvQV01NxsrDh_OvvhoMxPU8qid-GZWRj6sROj4-aiBMdGikqr-3gUMgTGnP5l_ugXAdyAEftt-jawb9iObaUZpYFB_dKXqn5pgtOVAnbYalk/s640/Cambodia-65.jpg" height="640" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the thousands of portraits. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNznT117g7U4EvHNq8fpWmIEEwfTczg0gIf6QDbqONgLWTJ5j4y2AtCtQ4tMIga7ng7QRB5hL7xZi7rA47GzDHAJktaefEKGB-RfJ5S9J5m5hVjjnt_uudeQ-8hbL1bhDdNc05oBpwPak/s1600/Cambodia-66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNznT117g7U4EvHNq8fpWmIEEwfTczg0gIf6QDbqONgLWTJ5j4y2AtCtQ4tMIga7ng7QRB5hL7xZi7rA47GzDHAJktaefEKGB-RfJ5S9J5m5hVjjnt_uudeQ-8hbL1bhDdNc05oBpwPak/s640/Cambodia-66.jpg" height="372" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photographs taken to document prisoners before their executions.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-hIO1QYx9Q2_VZJZJ5fjnRkXWmHRcayCv3IBwwkS2TiSuC3IgFEg7-9NHhuAZLxj2Rk20EVKiafCHEYdDUftZUtDMIoa0KyrOTBNgLD_8MT42jibSWG6jamh_oVrRCDOYSjz_fv_ne8/s1600/Cambodia-67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-hIO1QYx9Q2_VZJZJ5fjnRkXWmHRcayCv3IBwwkS2TiSuC3IgFEg7-9NHhuAZLxj2Rk20EVKiafCHEYdDUftZUtDMIoa0KyrOTBNgLD_8MT42jibSWG6jamh_oVrRCDOYSjz_fv_ne8/s640/Cambodia-67.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A French lesson remains on one of the blackboards in a classroom used for torture and interrogation,</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJIA0xESssVGLDlzH8A-uJlAiyLuG7wClOjXn6eD4MUiZ0YyO2ZZXFPWmlzQP3m1hsQjTA_soBHb803Kj4fQba5iKNrTaDt2vCHHrA4JKILFIKS8xY2H2YIWq8MQy6gp9cIFUZuRmzN0/s1600/Cambodia-68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJIA0xESssVGLDlzH8A-uJlAiyLuG7wClOjXn6eD4MUiZ0YyO2ZZXFPWmlzQP3m1hsQjTA_soBHb803Kj4fQba5iKNrTaDt2vCHHrA4JKILFIKS8xY2H2YIWq8MQy6gp9cIFUZuRmzN0/s640/Cambodia-68.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wooden cells constructed inside the rooms to house individual prisoners. </td></tr>
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After a while, enough was enough. We didn't visit the entirety of the site, we'd seen all we could stomach really and didn't need to keep visiting gallery after gallery of tortured eyes staring back. Instead it was time for some retail therapy. I wanted to visit the market again before it closed for the day and we made it just in time. I'd lost my wallet the week before somehow, a new one I had bought from the market, and wanted to replace it with an identical one. I'd previously paid $3 for the wallet, the chap started out asking $8 for it this time. I told him my story, insisted I wasn't going to barter except pay $3 like I had paid before, and he submitted.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDIGisQazgZRWv579DuhNWvWkpaiZ9A9gDK7KDkW-jtKfarayJFTeMY0Uc4sNvMsBK2JDlsJ_albdI40Vg3D_r53jnfIlebBXWYfeXMg6lglEO_modOdDOnYPGsLMqlthcOfPc0TUOHs/s1600/Cambodia-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDIGisQazgZRWv579DuhNWvWkpaiZ9A9gDK7KDkW-jtKfarayJFTeMY0Uc4sNvMsBK2JDlsJ_albdI40Vg3D_r53jnfIlebBXWYfeXMg6lglEO_modOdDOnYPGsLMqlthcOfPc0TUOHs/s640/Cambodia-70.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cambodian fast food drive-thru.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OvE5_km0rNY3s59f45AUp-rbOTRAj8Po6Mo4qLVUYfed7tCtxv2ZqoqkRTRePL9cL-uO5hZSKh43yyxwWeXd1TSUtr6Q0Bhtw50tT73oRefPTEf9FzzaPAxjgFl3yjRL8yfc7CcwbvI/s1600/Cambodia-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OvE5_km0rNY3s59f45AUp-rbOTRAj8Po6Mo4qLVUYfed7tCtxv2ZqoqkRTRePL9cL-uO5hZSKh43yyxwWeXd1TSUtr6Q0Bhtw50tT73oRefPTEf9FzzaPAxjgFl3yjRL8yfc7CcwbvI/s640/Cambodia-69.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A family on the street as I rode by in a tuk-tuk.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinHnOK1VcqSZ9KmS_Y9QVXeiWVVA-56aV8BzEQ4lUwdAgL9E_bdT4esyKPZGqBXqHWIXRyfT3wa8GQe1MDzJ2pK5La-GUC_L95kqRHMEE4oIUTvORWBfu63kf6fnmx8VsFGYjSIVT_X4/s1600/Cambodia-71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinHnOK1VcqSZ9KmS_Y9QVXeiWVVA-56aV8BzEQ4lUwdAgL9E_bdT4esyKPZGqBXqHWIXRyfT3wa8GQe1MDzJ2pK5La-GUC_L95kqRHMEE4oIUTvORWBfu63kf6fnmx8VsFGYjSIVT_X4/s640/Cambodia-71.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snapshots from a tuk-tuk.</td></tr>
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That night Todd and I had a couple of beers at our guesthouse bar, before continuing to drink in the roof veranda bar I had visited on my first time in the city. It then became a good idea to visit an absinthe bar in the city, one of the few true ones in the world according to what somebody told me from some guidebook. I've not verified the facts. We sat at the bar and sampled a few of the different 80% proof drinks. We'd drop a sugar cube into the drink, fish it out with a spatula, light the sugar cube on top of the drink, before plopping it back in and stirring it into the intense alcohol. We sampled about 6 of them in the end, and I quite enjoyed it, despite getting a strange type of drunk where my head span like a terrible hangover, yet I was still capable of conversation and functions. We invited ourselves to join a group of geeky journalists, working for the Phnom Penh Post, for many of them it was their first job on any paper anywhere, and combined with the alcohol I guess I felt a little arrogant in their company, but without reading their copy some of them seemed a little useless, though I could say that about many newspaper offices. My time in Phnom Penh was at an end, it was a pleasant way to sign out from this wild city, and I'd be heading to Siem Reap to reunite with Lars again, so we could visit the world famous Ankor Wat.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-90714492830710945832013-01-02T01:01:00.002-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.289-08:00Going, going, Saigon. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GN7kUxFqSxOYwisHganlKH_cA-MyTYRGSTcK7voEh5YU1UwvHgXDihtmjcNhReDJoftO6huc3c8XjNtyKgxUemZg8MA80F0T72oNOV88oaNc6xbDnEFjbWAVb7sAO7A9BgFck9wgf8U/s1600/Saigon-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GN7kUxFqSxOYwisHganlKH_cA-MyTYRGSTcK7voEh5YU1UwvHgXDihtmjcNhReDJoftO6huc3c8XjNtyKgxUemZg8MA80F0T72oNOV88oaNc6xbDnEFjbWAVb7sAO7A9BgFck9wgf8U/s640/Saigon-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ho Chi Mincing. </td></tr>
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The afternoon bus from Mui Ne arrived in Saigon (also known as Ho Chi Minh City) as evening fell over Vietnam's biggest city. Saigon felt busier and more vibrant than the capital Hanoi, hotel touts swarmed as we departed the bus, and we followed one down a side street in the backpacker district to take a room for $6 each a night. That evening Alex and I had a wander of the main streets around us, which were filled with bars bursting with tourists, and restaurants beckoning us in to look at the menu. After dinner we picked a spot on the pavement for a few beers and to watch the nightlife race by. The city felt a buzzing live wire of neon and consumption, it felt young and pulsating with life, and more progressive than Hanoi.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQasdgnzMu_V4Yjs50mGPsJXW-TZXBHfClDj24NTiKRD0025knpUlH0ABh8EgPgujLbsmNZE5jKpOALKIijmkYQo7m3yIcJHdX0HnV3Gp-bR8MghPuUal-xjBHlZGD8J9UrkPBIWgHNo/s1600/Saigon-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQasdgnzMu_V4Yjs50mGPsJXW-TZXBHfClDj24NTiKRD0025knpUlH0ABh8EgPgujLbsmNZE5jKpOALKIijmkYQo7m3yIcJHdX0HnV3Gp-bR8MghPuUal-xjBHlZGD8J9UrkPBIWgHNo/s640/Saigon-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saigon streets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFz8mAd1lHGs2UmvcgVaIFaM_oEoosCWk9BwpikdhCpvZwZIXvCxJkUrMEQvapMffrTONKUACw1qJSsn51MDb84iS3KL6nOi1Kv2MWC577Rte9jvt5ca-ME2OA_cxKxjxmNDr4pFtHRWQ/s1600/Saigon-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFz8mAd1lHGs2UmvcgVaIFaM_oEoosCWk9BwpikdhCpvZwZIXvCxJkUrMEQvapMffrTONKUACw1qJSsn51MDb84iS3KL6nOi1Kv2MWC577Rte9jvt5ca-ME2OA_cxKxjxmNDr4pFtHRWQ/s640/Saigon-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYROmnrwvg_aLxB9P3r6Z3agMergQWQYg3jkYWUdaHQPmSQQVQBFVeENAkXn-YhlDz-CbWWs8hElP9JwFcpSOlSON0_SB_rgjNY_Kqnx1W6iKBG0hpqN9Xob11Mxeirgm-WLLgt3pAFk/s1600/Saigon-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYROmnrwvg_aLxB9P3r6Z3agMergQWQYg3jkYWUdaHQPmSQQVQBFVeENAkXn-YhlDz-CbWWs8hElP9JwFcpSOlSON0_SB_rgjNY_Kqnx1W6iKBG0hpqN9Xob11Mxeirgm-WLLgt3pAFk/s640/Saigon-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Child street vendor up way past her bedtime.</td></tr>
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The following day Alex and I had a small explore of the city, and I bought two t shirts from the market to replace my tatty and holed garments. When we walked in the covered market we were pounced on by market traders, who struck vice like grips on my arm until I finished my bartering or I managed to break loose to be attacked by another one. It could almost be a bit overwhelming but with the right attitude it's actually quite entertaining. We spent a few hours exploring the stalls and commercial streets of Saigon, before I retired to the room for a snooze in the mid afternoon heat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsPGmZeK-TcIaEgUnR_HHkJaUjTlJo2a5grWvmGh1YnqpNmSV_A9GLhWa2md-5X3LwA9OQpy9-1hJ33aLzEUsrj-CJcDvUhh-nHzSDF_mDCRUZnplU_-ae-BRo-EdJj-E9PKG6Ngj2oM/s1600/Saigon-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsPGmZeK-TcIaEgUnR_HHkJaUjTlJo2a5grWvmGh1YnqpNmSV_A9GLhWa2md-5X3LwA9OQpy9-1hJ33aLzEUsrj-CJcDvUhh-nHzSDF_mDCRUZnplU_-ae-BRo-EdJj-E9PKG6Ngj2oM/s640/Saigon-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saigon shops.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqrBVVM97obW-x7aCosjSo9VG8dmORohBplV6G_hBZ6LOJUe-TDjfb0Q8LlarSN_Ngb530qgHJPh60CgRXs6vObKfMAfek8Av640nSm6Pkw3pxX2jqVf2Nq_5IpV0WTKlMUV67N9PrISw/s1600/Saigon-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqrBVVM97obW-x7aCosjSo9VG8dmORohBplV6G_hBZ6LOJUe-TDjfb0Q8LlarSN_Ngb530qgHJPh60CgRXs6vObKfMAfek8Av640nSm6Pkw3pxX2jqVf2Nq_5IpV0WTKlMUV67N9PrISw/s640/Saigon-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saigon to the market.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9LqUI0YdafGkZddXagTu3iEFPyDV3W_c1JJzKqW6k9coiHQdEQzbCTL9eExFEVFIm92DGwsWxkK5h2flCEDCKwPmo4UUXbLyzXUiAlPPfEy9d8Qmj_J7AaprI8IB8UuECD1Y8Z1DMxA/s1600/Saigon-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9LqUI0YdafGkZddXagTu3iEFPyDV3W_c1JJzKqW6k9coiHQdEQzbCTL9eExFEVFIm92DGwsWxkK5h2flCEDCKwPmo4UUXbLyzXUiAlPPfEy9d8Qmj_J7AaprI8IB8UuECD1Y8Z1DMxA/s640/Saigon-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City motorbike traffic.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5gd5xZ9WUE8FT69N7iBzxlhXUm96jRA3Fs8f-ZJDskdpAUUwRSEzdsF5KGfEaTWAGqB5ojReCwbqcP9Lt5V-Ds0_aFtJrtcAwQHP3VCUK-DHxbgA4HQ2dPoKdutaCoXTK5xPN0XnGAQ/s1600/Saigon-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5gd5xZ9WUE8FT69N7iBzxlhXUm96jRA3Fs8f-ZJDskdpAUUwRSEzdsF5KGfEaTWAGqB5ojReCwbqcP9Lt5V-Ds0_aFtJrtcAwQHP3VCUK-DHxbgA4HQ2dPoKdutaCoXTK5xPN0XnGAQ/s640/Saigon-14.jpg" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0pjIoMuSmkZecqPYZXiTdSQVk6cIuhKct3SrDGw3hUhcjXWRFqNyIxu_NsHttEA-oFu0tDudaZTZc_hFpmoEOm17Ns25E9aB_5JYbA0xu0SP6DCcdEYUIBZBoOsn1e4iXfGUV3YIpU4/s1600/Saigon-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0pjIoMuSmkZecqPYZXiTdSQVk6cIuhKct3SrDGw3hUhcjXWRFqNyIxu_NsHttEA-oFu0tDudaZTZc_hFpmoEOm17Ns25E9aB_5JYbA0xu0SP6DCcdEYUIBZBoOsn1e4iXfGUV3YIpU4/s640/Saigon-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An interchange.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdmDDwhhEpR_NgRblqqQ1UOD4iXtvx8SwM1Y6ZZm79xqRoQ_ihO42U3WWo__Rx-X6BmQMDLw_1_39ooaSTaoIcDXpg-bija0Jt_iOS0y8z6yHL0AUYyqNhZ-9ZpBbe7k8uL6GJRkXlYA/s1600/Saigon-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdmDDwhhEpR_NgRblqqQ1UOD4iXtvx8SwM1Y6ZZm79xqRoQ_ihO42U3WWo__Rx-X6BmQMDLw_1_39ooaSTaoIcDXpg-bija0Jt_iOS0y8z6yHL0AUYyqNhZ-9ZpBbe7k8uL6GJRkXlYA/s640/Saigon-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wUlTLPo098myt07vxOnOy5vB52DucwiOkjjNEPaYJX6ko9emPm52o9-dkjyQDh8GRWtoJuB6McXs-HR8u-Tqe7WyIrks_d_J0BkpWZw0coKRrhNTLAuFa1sArQClL58YCvj9u-0ekEw/s1600/Saigon-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wUlTLPo098myt07vxOnOy5vB52DucwiOkjjNEPaYJX6ko9emPm52o9-dkjyQDh8GRWtoJuB6McXs-HR8u-Tqe7WyIrks_d_J0BkpWZw0coKRrhNTLAuFa1sArQClL58YCvj9u-0ekEw/s640/Saigon-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzP12vF5_YWjtOLLAB8hDBdxYKuLYW6jI1LbmLXD4sToxeNRSAwFgZdOYvkhVBEOmJ9XBBD99EDjOVVvBJyBKCxsFjBGa5f1qgpzrvgMzOfoWXGN1-tbbZQvDng0Cjo7aF1JlvS0kL4Ug/s1600/Saigon-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzP12vF5_YWjtOLLAB8hDBdxYKuLYW6jI1LbmLXD4sToxeNRSAwFgZdOYvkhVBEOmJ9XBBD99EDjOVVvBJyBKCxsFjBGa5f1qgpzrvgMzOfoWXGN1-tbbZQvDng0Cjo7aF1JlvS0kL4Ug/s640/Saigon-9.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bicycle rickshaw.</td></tr>
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For our second and final full day in Saigon, Alex and I booked onto a tour of the Cu Chi tunnels an hour or so outside of the city. The tunnels were used by the Vietcong during the war, and some people spent years underground hiding from American attacks and launching attacks of their own to drive the foreign powers from Vietnam for a Communist victory. Our guide for the day was excellent at his job, he had worked for the Americans as a translator during the war and span a great yarn, which made the experience much more eye opening and enjoyable than a typical tour.<br />
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We had to squeeze down into the first tunnel, this was no place for a claustrophobe, and I wriggled my way along a pitch black tunnel filled with bugs and bats, with nothing more than a phone screen for illumination. A few times I stopped to cast my phone light in the crevice a few inches above my head, to see the eyes of a small bat shining back. We visited another tunnel which was still tight but had a little more headroom, and this one was clean of bats and creepy crawlies and was lit up by the odd bulb. At the end of the tour was the firing range. We had heard the crack of gunfire as we walked through the woods learning about the war from the different exhibits, including the various spike death traps made by the Vietcong, and the sound of rifles only made the experience a little more eerie. I opted to fire an AK-47, and the rounds were £1 each, so I limited myself to 10. The target was about 100 metres away and difficult to know if I had hit it. After each round recoiled into my shoulder and a thunderous crack erupted from the chamber, a cloud of red dust floated up from the baked earth behind the target and the empty cartridge spun to my right and hit the concrete floor with a ping. It was a good experience, the boy soldier in me has always wanted to fire a machine gun and I would've paid for a whole magazine could I have afforded it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disappearing down the tunnel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFCxQUZjR7DpNOjwrk4ECyR-CSr5tSYJjNNMhqyJ0mTP5EaoCCqXayrjjGecHfZzQUNVojbAkjutm3dH3fUgxe0zARmE1uQWsr6umdifKu9L6KMlVfqn5K4dsJrazC7UbuazrpqFQS-A/s1600/Saigon-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFCxQUZjR7DpNOjwrk4ECyR-CSr5tSYJjNNMhqyJ0mTP5EaoCCqXayrjjGecHfZzQUNVojbAkjutm3dH3fUgxe0zARmE1uQWsr6umdifKu9L6KMlVfqn5K4dsJrazC7UbuazrpqFQS-A/s640/Saigon-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex in the larger, swept out, tunnel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflqnwFjwfPbqX8mp_xHgKZRtBP44ApYiMNxFRdGjenO1CZMCqMQfNiZ3ckvD0ZAT4JyfqomOumLHnCGzPGKw68c6lq1d1LsdypxzGY92vt8gp_aWNV_bYSdpm3934YGruF-PrTEyxxsg/s1600/Saigon-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflqnwFjwfPbqX8mp_xHgKZRtBP44ApYiMNxFRdGjenO1CZMCqMQfNiZ3ckvD0ZAT4JyfqomOumLHnCGzPGKw68c6lq1d1LsdypxzGY92vt8gp_aWNV_bYSdpm3934YGruF-PrTEyxxsg/s640/Saigon-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No pictures of me playing Rambo, but I kept a cartridge as a souvenir.</td></tr>
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That final evening Alex and I went out for a beer with a Scottish lad, Brian, who we had met on the tunnel tour. We went to a bar on a terrace high up over the city, I forget which floor it was on, only half as high as my similar experience in Shanghai, but visibility was better and Saigon looked great from a few hundred feet up. We towered above the chaos, noise and hassle of the streets, and felt rather elite for a few minutes, though we paid for the privilege with the price of the beers. Our bubble was soon burst once we returned to street level for a few more beers with a mixed crowd of nationalities, and we had a drunken early morning lunch on the way home, before resting up to take the bus to Cambodia the following day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW0jfnm0UfJPTsxf9lsoOhx7QzjrXDfSKM-tzSH1K1lhtsO6mBSKGakBqUfbnRZTLhB08osxfr7oxznnTDseeZLQ1V8l7YsHNNKBsvl5_CK9HNd_DDTzbSBnQL98Bh0Si4q677ZT5HaU/s1600/Saigon-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW0jfnm0UfJPTsxf9lsoOhx7QzjrXDfSKM-tzSH1K1lhtsO6mBSKGakBqUfbnRZTLhB08osxfr7oxznnTDseeZLQ1V8l7YsHNNKBsvl5_CK9HNd_DDTzbSBnQL98Bh0Si4q677ZT5HaU/s640/Saigon-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on Saigon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgSr9gKyMXhyS_NE5CujWlDvgygyCg59EJbAgO_siY7Jio7QipJVNrct1fjmXSD5wFp78g8SjAoUzOJwnUWLwgQziAU5w1pYylthsTtmUkdlAfgAQSFCeXIlu7D1w3wEFA5rKLgT7wzg/s1600/Saigon-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgSr9gKyMXhyS_NE5CujWlDvgygyCg59EJbAgO_siY7Jio7QipJVNrct1fjmXSD5wFp78g8SjAoUzOJwnUWLwgQziAU5w1pYylthsTtmUkdlAfgAQSFCeXIlu7D1w3wEFA5rKLgT7wzg/s640/Saigon-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saigon nights.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-51312021445523292172012-12-21T09:31:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.249-08:00Two days in Mui Ne<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVkkVzNRhTqgaCZua9Jl3DyRfMWG2WpjDsKxPKHxAKRx37uB9tfo-bQWIyXr8vArq-Y_dOOxlUyJHwxmvglDxWZP0DCIPz3O60E66IemfTrHE7dik1FGwfH-YLDnlio0O8SRjauFdpI8/s1600/Mui+Ne-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVkkVzNRhTqgaCZua9Jl3DyRfMWG2WpjDsKxPKHxAKRx37uB9tfo-bQWIyXr8vArq-Y_dOOxlUyJHwxmvglDxWZP0DCIPz3O60E66IemfTrHE7dik1FGwfH-YLDnlio0O8SRjauFdpI8/s640/Mui+Ne-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Sunset over the sea in Mui Ne.</td></tr>
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Mui Ne is a coastal town towards the south of Vietnam, and was the penultimate stop on our open bus ticket. We arrived from Dalat around lunchtime and after being told a room in the backpackers was $30, we sweated down the street to find a room for $12. After getting some food in a restaurant over the road, we spent the afternoon in another hotel that had some deckchairs on the sea front, and I spent quite a lot of time in the sea. There is no open seafront in Mui Ne, the entire stretch is built up with hotels and resorts, and seemed to be mostly populated by Russians on holiday. There is almost nothing Vietnamese about the town, it's an international holiday resort for couples and families. That evening after a delicious curry in an Indian restaurant, we stopped by a hotel for a drink, and the entertainment of live music felt like it belonged in Benidorm, it wasn't really our scene.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yfEJZ9dYQW1Rj6-ylGBSjOPbbBeHdIGDdxxzcu-UWPXjMI2JW-LTR64CRIromaPKXPIWtgNvWzU0kFUSYKy3jdnDq9gy_IIys5pFhePGh3bMsqw4LDRHKRdz3UBjaGaLXoRzvM97Lsg/s1600/Mui+Ne-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yfEJZ9dYQW1Rj6-ylGBSjOPbbBeHdIGDdxxzcu-UWPXjMI2JW-LTR64CRIromaPKXPIWtgNvWzU0kFUSYKy3jdnDq9gy_IIys5pFhePGh3bMsqw4LDRHKRdz3UBjaGaLXoRzvM97Lsg/s640/Mui+Ne-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palm lined streets of Mui Ne.</td></tr>
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The following day we decided to rent a moped and go and explore the surrounding countryside, and find the huge sand dunes that Mui Ne is famous for. I'd spent half of my daily budget on a big slice of chocolate cake for breakfast, so Alex and I shared a bike, with him driving there and me driving back. We got lost a few times that baking hot afternoon, but eventually we saw a big splash of white sand in the landscape and steered the bike in that direction.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8lw07lRZDcC4PL7LtWIaYW-x_6P8sXQbd5DNgr5v0oADJCW5M2jhoYAauiSra31U5EgZthBTSJLuO2iqqhCle15NqogjCqcp8KwTi1_lHgpVmJUz5C8lcZ8pth-o4qz8I2bt9hWNfak/s1600/Mui+Ne-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8lw07lRZDcC4PL7LtWIaYW-x_6P8sXQbd5DNgr5v0oADJCW5M2jhoYAauiSra31U5EgZthBTSJLuO2iqqhCle15NqogjCqcp8KwTi1_lHgpVmJUz5C8lcZ8pth-o4qz8I2bt9hWNfak/s640/Mui+Ne-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The harbour by the real town, away from the tourist resort.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQYEM2q3rg9fR5uzwyTdLVih_Votb-uYPDuRAz5mqqE8yKxfGKS4sXAP1EizAfeQ1cfnkEFWFFo-7Y2jXd6EmG1CaPYvyZa81Zhddms25IDTe19BT6_vtax77gBGmmdRS_koBl7J3bW4/s1600/Mui+Ne-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQYEM2q3rg9fR5uzwyTdLVih_Votb-uYPDuRAz5mqqE8yKxfGKS4sXAP1EizAfeQ1cfnkEFWFFo-7Y2jXd6EmG1CaPYvyZa81Zhddms25IDTe19BT6_vtax77gBGmmdRS_koBl7J3bW4/s640/Mui+Ne-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking across the lake towards the dunes.</td></tr>
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We had to ride around a lake to reach the dunes, and this road was no longer paved but a sandy track and the bike struggled to grip as we bounced over potholes and slid on sand. We parked the bike and walked up the dunes. It felt like a little slice of the Sahara. The sun beat down and the sweat trickled down; the wind whipped up grains of sand and it stung our skin as we slowly made our way across the dunes. We had half an hour of this small desert landscape to ourselves, and as we were leaving dozens of tourists appeared riding quad bikes and destroying the peace - it was time to leave.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Bv7NMLmEAX6qEa_mcgh7SU3AclatzCwckKFX9T6Ll6Qjr03DWBgyaGa_BHqlDS1KddzhaLhB6gSXp3pv_IO_zb7yfcQIxnaOVwE7AZ9YQweLnU5IW2w1-4-161EZ8Zj3HmkE3ZDEB4E/s1600/Mui+Ne-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Bv7NMLmEAX6qEa_mcgh7SU3AclatzCwckKFX9T6Ll6Qjr03DWBgyaGa_BHqlDS1KddzhaLhB6gSXp3pv_IO_zb7yfcQIxnaOVwE7AZ9YQweLnU5IW2w1-4-161EZ8Zj3HmkE3ZDEB4E/s640/Mui+Ne-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyIrg8rXw9j1IONBqR2dIVzD0GvTUsOpmkdoDtr078LOHXBzAfceKEe36srT4CCDZ5Pq5jdKoiSceEbknFc1QrP3z90hJVoXN_VLEYRuLxaOnlMJNW1yOzlQ7MXFzpc2Y-oasBeShtG8/s1600/Mui+Ne-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyIrg8rXw9j1IONBqR2dIVzD0GvTUsOpmkdoDtr078LOHXBzAfceKEe36srT4CCDZ5Pq5jdKoiSceEbknFc1QrP3z90hJVoXN_VLEYRuLxaOnlMJNW1yOzlQ7MXFzpc2Y-oasBeShtG8/s640/Mui+Ne-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dunes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bF8nMVE6HhOVp0aygoxShEPWeVyMGcvFmHy-OMI1RelcG17wrDcUSlWoVCIOHOpsJxe5CcfPpqZ9BfR_XcjR2q8YygAqHlRU8RMONnHzKVfnhjMK_6JJ1l21CBKgbpl_Q0rETdc1jlI/s1600/Mui+Ne-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bF8nMVE6HhOVp0aygoxShEPWeVyMGcvFmHy-OMI1RelcG17wrDcUSlWoVCIOHOpsJxe5CcfPpqZ9BfR_XcjR2q8YygAqHlRU8RMONnHzKVfnhjMK_6JJ1l21CBKgbpl_Q0rETdc1jlI/s640/Mui+Ne-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My footsteps in the sand.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8Z61YAIomOdGCK7Bdmqtd7DirTzz0iAnhPhC_3zG61DYYZcEYGOENDIRf75kHuFk-wny4tKZ2kW2FwML7pxX5chyphenhyphenYt-ij4fUtETOzglLnJo_k2x7SNIyTfdphnx_h5xTuNtXaw71j0c/s1600/Mui+Ne-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8Z61YAIomOdGCK7Bdmqtd7DirTzz0iAnhPhC_3zG61DYYZcEYGOENDIRf75kHuFk-wny4tKZ2kW2FwML7pxX5chyphenhyphenYt-ij4fUtETOzglLnJo_k2x7SNIyTfdphnx_h5xTuNtXaw71j0c/s640/Mui+Ne-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnldi1z5G9cwPKcUMrNxRfqFjDzYzk64vcxA5hQMxtkNpT2Tyf7JqerhjVrj3mwRcY-sn4Tamcfe0-2xq_ovkb8G7ZLTVBnVA8QdC06wT6dDzxSnLbgbhnv2VcttC-1iJP2xb0sPwG16Y/s1600/Mui+Ne-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnldi1z5G9cwPKcUMrNxRfqFjDzYzk64vcxA5hQMxtkNpT2Tyf7JqerhjVrj3mwRcY-sn4Tamcfe0-2xq_ovkb8G7ZLTVBnVA8QdC06wT6dDzxSnLbgbhnv2VcttC-1iJP2xb0sPwG16Y/s640/Mui+Ne-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A small Sahara.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5BuHPrRv5VuJAgSjilnZ4V3nNsLr8RLjgfUeEha6CwL079VTwiTIRffU7ve9eEvKEChoADjAYxwTawaJNzgXyoAcM-2_0d7wi3liiL3uu_4NPjk6EWoCA3SK-Q2swh_o9Jvsrq-tAXI/s1600/Mui+Ne-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5BuHPrRv5VuJAgSjilnZ4V3nNsLr8RLjgfUeEha6CwL079VTwiTIRffU7ve9eEvKEChoADjAYxwTawaJNzgXyoAcM-2_0d7wi3liiL3uu_4NPjk6EWoCA3SK-Q2swh_o9Jvsrq-tAXI/s640/Mui+Ne-5.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The spine of a dune.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6ytgtowjn-yZX5ee0-kXZuWEUwQef6kIA4iguq4rGoMcOnLIpUNhGSgd72iC1JEq55c16Yie_gLrsay8_R8zm3ZK6bHn9DJhOBFkPgy-_NZL0p8f5OY6fsNIMMMqWsZdl2IrvAwd7nw/s1600/Mui+Ne-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6ytgtowjn-yZX5ee0-kXZuWEUwQef6kIA4iguq4rGoMcOnLIpUNhGSgd72iC1JEq55c16Yie_gLrsay8_R8zm3ZK6bHn9DJhOBFkPgy-_NZL0p8f5OY6fsNIMMMqWsZdl2IrvAwd7nw/s640/Mui+Ne-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi ladies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiATBrFwe4DpsTSagdmdfBZ0VnQoNkpZZZEr0NlSRfc8Idyt0JBouoMqky4QjJKs7Q8N2ZUHyKfgCgCBM-KDPlOZh_usfkrdC4gW9lJw1bjz7oivPJ04zVDmoRmCOZ7UWPNPrh0HZ_F-s/s1600/Mui+Ne-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiATBrFwe4DpsTSagdmdfBZ0VnQoNkpZZZEr0NlSRfc8Idyt0JBouoMqky4QjJKs7Q8N2ZUHyKfgCgCBM-KDPlOZh_usfkrdC4gW9lJw1bjz7oivPJ04zVDmoRmCOZ7UWPNPrh0HZ_F-s/s640/Mui+Ne-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lonely figure.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBbe6DtaiT5mbM7D-si1PML1A9aVfavd7MyTJX8eP2kUsZIGWhMUIvbb0Ww4IlP7Qlv9ysewxsXqhCCc2hEgvhV_c8qH7LMdNI2Y6us1zLPB4_3GFIfe_VvxhwqwTa9nmf9e-hlT0Pqo/s1600/Mui+Ne-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBbe6DtaiT5mbM7D-si1PML1A9aVfavd7MyTJX8eP2kUsZIGWhMUIvbb0Ww4IlP7Qlv9ysewxsXqhCCc2hEgvhV_c8qH7LMdNI2Y6us1zLPB4_3GFIfe_VvxhwqwTa9nmf9e-hlT0Pqo/s640/Mui+Ne-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the ride home there wasn't much traffic, but we did have a slight scare at one point, where the bike's brakes were put to the test. A local youth wandered out into the road in front of me at the last minute, and usually I'd just skirt around him, but there was an oncoming 4x4 and so I had no option but to slam on the brakes. The car did the same, and all three of us stopped within a few feet of each other. The Vietnamese guy staggered in front of me, eyes glazed over and frothing at the mouth, he was clearly high on something, but it was a face I didn't recognise. I speculated he'd been sniffing glue or something, but he didn't look healthy. As soon as a gap of a few feet opened, I twisted on the accelerator and we sped off down the road away from him, my eyes squinting as the sun dropped down low in front. Back in Mui Ne we jumped in the sea, sand had worked its way into every crevice and pore of my body, and so a sunset swim was a perfect way to end the day and wash the dunes from my skin. We had a quiet evening, having already decided there was not too much fun to be had in this resort town, and got ready to leave the following day for Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon).<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-79398449060333346262012-12-18T03:47:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.271-08:00Now Dalat's what I'm talking about...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqpM4rFrROk0UFBegFVOQOHN_s54JIbiClfRsPej25KNlCclv5A1r9lar0vMuYAuvw67oddu2xh3JedkgryqFAiHKpQaQjnLS8M98_QustFly2sE30AxCoawJlj2b_DwvD0lSXeZx6DM/s1600/VN+pt2-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqpM4rFrROk0UFBegFVOQOHN_s54JIbiClfRsPej25KNlCclv5A1r9lar0vMuYAuvw67oddu2xh3JedkgryqFAiHKpQaQjnLS8M98_QustFly2sE30AxCoawJlj2b_DwvD0lSXeZx6DM/s640/VN+pt2-53.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading to Dalat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
I dozed as the bus chugged through rugged mountains on the way to Dalat. Every time I opened my eyes I was treated to stunning vistas of rolling countryside and rich vegetation, but the temptations of sleep were sweeter, and I succumbed to dreams. We arrived around lunch time, and checked into a hotel where the bus dropped us off. After a brief relax we headed off to find some lunch and then explored the town and meandered through some markets. There were hardly any tourists and no one paid us any attention as the ramshackle markets went on around us. We walked around the town until sunset, and I've been acting as a photographic tutor to Alex who has a keen interest in learning, and so we had a walk about practical lesson for the rest of the day.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTO73NUFG80x1PZQ1QoqvRWjGrXprFkHAH_enT8Nma5cH4fUvf6g6bCkOMszPYhDYyMFGwvqVKVufs_7wFM5W-cfJ0pLfF4qQW1n3hVgZ2lgI9o2UkYu3XheE_CVF62y8KBXsXga7F6E/s1600/VN+pt2-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTO73NUFG80x1PZQ1QoqvRWjGrXprFkHAH_enT8Nma5cH4fUvf6g6bCkOMszPYhDYyMFGwvqVKVufs_7wFM5W-cfJ0pLfF4qQW1n3hVgZ2lgI9o2UkYu3XheE_CVF62y8KBXsXga7F6E/s640/VN+pt2-33.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rickety side streets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZbyryw7kX0GP5zZSeMg0XVBt3Ar7FJaQRKlLAfdro4gi4I0BRW0he659ySMPQixf9ZIf3eJxq9VymMAfPK_7zgG_TLXOEjE-UMcwK17XJvTVHofS2w8bJhsU-sV90z0sXWjAgcxZkmg/s1600/VN+pt2-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZbyryw7kX0GP5zZSeMg0XVBt3Ar7FJaQRKlLAfdro4gi4I0BRW0he659ySMPQixf9ZIf3eJxq9VymMAfPK_7zgG_TLXOEjE-UMcwK17XJvTVHofS2w8bJhsU-sV90z0sXWjAgcxZkmg/s640/VN+pt2-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impromptu markets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit0GwyAGwKSqiJD5if3lZ5NgSGTHcUBRx3OWlnKVUw8m4aNRehxkStGVJuHRtqHl4xJe8H5tLlL9S837lac3AsPm9W-AP9UoAPuQ3HNMFTzyJ0D0e9RJBZ5usNJythffy_oLKHumMraI/s1600/VN+pt2-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit0GwyAGwKSqiJD5if3lZ5NgSGTHcUBRx3OWlnKVUw8m4aNRehxkStGVJuHRtqHl4xJe8H5tLlL9S837lac3AsPm9W-AP9UoAPuQ3HNMFTzyJ0D0e9RJBZ5usNJythffy_oLKHumMraI/s640/VN+pt2-35.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vietnamese women.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7MklwlzateaoWtwGuBJbAeH-1Wu5JSrX74qu6wDdFcXAejDyuBtrK47GcR0JV6vgdeEApa7jueC2YAh2j01JRvYjghB1VVTR34xhahy9r6bDJf60bUr5DUbbm3fh_w4Qw-FVZQfxdJc/s1600/VN+pt2-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7MklwlzateaoWtwGuBJbAeH-1Wu5JSrX74qu6wDdFcXAejDyuBtrK47GcR0JV6vgdeEApa7jueC2YAh2j01JRvYjghB1VVTR34xhahy9r6bDJf60bUr5DUbbm3fh_w4Qw-FVZQfxdJc/s640/VN+pt2-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower stall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTK-qGS73EYMoV7w2Bzbc894BmCjZRppsVtygG0ik8eTEFv924YIl7qySucIteQ1UAFqa1ivyS4PhRZImVvYMQT0NHnxmhssrkKBIcexEhsG2Xx8hdYGMaA0cL82jvGIqJiJAGFT9gNw/s1600/VN+pt2-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTK-qGS73EYMoV7w2Bzbc894BmCjZRppsVtygG0ik8eTEFv924YIl7qySucIteQ1UAFqa1ivyS4PhRZImVvYMQT0NHnxmhssrkKBIcexEhsG2Xx8hdYGMaA0cL82jvGIqJiJAGFT9gNw/s640/VN+pt2-37.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strawberries.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWn_BN73NFTGYD7AlZj-qnLvze8Id2M8HA4xhNL3OeE9bgvMmmM1yJCvyW4M4WJ0AQKX67K99rPVFNVoypXlP0H0qX2J8_3xfHgGcFNlzH2hZD0o3SEPTNxpFSBtx_4Uy0-M70bM-pBdQ/s1600/VN+pt2-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWn_BN73NFTGYD7AlZj-qnLvze8Id2M8HA4xhNL3OeE9bgvMmmM1yJCvyW4M4WJ0AQKX67K99rPVFNVoypXlP0H0qX2J8_3xfHgGcFNlzH2hZD0o3SEPTNxpFSBtx_4Uy0-M70bM-pBdQ/s640/VN+pt2-38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Markets on the street corner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD04qck-HD0mOdc-iUYd8aJf1FUzNWeFkhEAaF4W9BLTQ1KuH1BECvGk_WpvKRmX4y3H806ReUE9nGcMlr-Xd8pXSeDRAssnQEvOBTTKYFC0IEToZDvsGaa1s7sUVCy5VbZRsCHI_nbYw/s1600/VN+pt2-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD04qck-HD0mOdc-iUYd8aJf1FUzNWeFkhEAaF4W9BLTQ1KuH1BECvGk_WpvKRmX4y3H806ReUE9nGcMlr-Xd8pXSeDRAssnQEvOBTTKYFC0IEToZDvsGaa1s7sUVCy5VbZRsCHI_nbYw/s640/VN+pt2-39.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruit stall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpZIZAGc3FhvrLbvIbLEVbZynjeoy_NGvISN-5T-Bxrou7Lpinp30wItxwQvIY9qdSGSIg2_iDcpElVmDR-G5HzV1PY4vIEzeRddjCUJhdQyMqcXJhG8xyzKvRX7MQqfPxuN4rqRro-M/s1600/VN+pt2-40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpZIZAGc3FhvrLbvIbLEVbZynjeoy_NGvISN-5T-Bxrou7Lpinp30wItxwQvIY9qdSGSIg2_iDcpElVmDR-G5HzV1PY4vIEzeRddjCUJhdQyMqcXJhG8xyzKvRX7MQqfPxuN4rqRro-M/s640/VN+pt2-40.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional method of carrying goods.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-cOASi5LEGEquIEsddZU5hr-E4XCQ1qsaBxJoiKZ_UooqdpH0jbojKZbbMDi5M5bxZGWiKlLeAZZITxYWpjR0sm1SMwuW53XeEENuIfGqDJoD5ly5frqTq3ElTC7U632ePUJYGWhBNg/s1600/VN+pt2-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-cOASi5LEGEquIEsddZU5hr-E4XCQ1qsaBxJoiKZ_UooqdpH0jbojKZbbMDi5M5bxZGWiKlLeAZZITxYWpjR0sm1SMwuW53XeEENuIfGqDJoD5ly5frqTq3ElTC7U632ePUJYGWhBNg/s640/VN+pt2-41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Communist style building.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcaPEJGsY_HgDtZXytziCX6qlUPUAIO5QFa4hfmyd59KFkx4ukMZFIvSixqd6POxybTSrN0pglAjmcIvT7cNiUytZouGHA9hZ5qemEYgGUB6xjuKRd3FVJObc1P9jUpbhDUyuXyQ1nvk/s1600/VN+pt2-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcaPEJGsY_HgDtZXytziCX6qlUPUAIO5QFa4hfmyd59KFkx4ukMZFIvSixqd6POxybTSrN0pglAjmcIvT7cNiUytZouGHA9hZ5qemEYgGUB6xjuKRd3FVJObc1P9jUpbhDUyuXyQ1nvk/s640/VN+pt2-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A temple complex we had a nose around.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfxvMLRO7X0w7t_FHZE4beixfo3cv-zwp4u2I_Yl2tYqdr-0w6UrQ2cAmT2z7wtVBYWKo0lkQaj7qifcBNJUAktg0ngdcflX5j_Js3K-PQOHhbNpM9i3lYBhL4uGxQzGi1qlfBLpJcGaY/s1600/VN+pt2-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfxvMLRO7X0w7t_FHZE4beixfo3cv-zwp4u2I_Yl2tYqdr-0w6UrQ2cAmT2z7wtVBYWKo0lkQaj7qifcBNJUAktg0ngdcflX5j_Js3K-PQOHhbNpM9i3lYBhL4uGxQzGi1qlfBLpJcGaY/s640/VN+pt2-44.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa's little helper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmRV_tVz3TPgyke1btMisWv7YEfwOcUv1yAcO-Alk1SCinENjdyIDETf3HNcCbAHGjSAv0vczqR1lHhVbcW7-1rwRqHFYTB_-4dILfHBFYH7vGbq-gokE7ekoiLYwB9mpHNx9mjOhJuA/s1600/VN+pt2-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmRV_tVz3TPgyke1btMisWv7YEfwOcUv1yAcO-Alk1SCinENjdyIDETf3HNcCbAHGjSAv0vczqR1lHhVbcW7-1rwRqHFYTB_-4dILfHBFYH7vGbq-gokE7ekoiLYwB9mpHNx9mjOhJuA/s640/VN+pt2-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ladies in the street.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaQOh_oklJcgwkIB1dt7TKrsqlNvfL5Ct-GS-Do8qu2UU6mkTwGfTCLN7wAMnxchPtqsIqQaWB23DgK_OyIrtDLJvif9wV-w-8aLSLTTJYgv6PcKI10UDVsZiZJjMlN6Rs8Fqd4tKr9o/s1600/VN+pt2-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaQOh_oklJcgwkIB1dt7TKrsqlNvfL5Ct-GS-Do8qu2UU6mkTwGfTCLN7wAMnxchPtqsIqQaWB23DgK_OyIrtDLJvif9wV-w-8aLSLTTJYgv6PcKI10UDVsZiZJjMlN6Rs8Fqd4tKr9o/s640/VN+pt2-46.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School's out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4wwuMDLxjenpAP4d4ivjYyTAqPMR7qy_KaYcfE-XxcF01cMPypqqjCA4q46vyaHPml9Ug4M-wNI_3XeqUyy1cOqA8B1eIuiaA1KRWuex4QhvJqTRSz4mkcP5pdO1LLIVYtiWwo0W1Sk/s1600/VN+pt2-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4wwuMDLxjenpAP4d4ivjYyTAqPMR7qy_KaYcfE-XxcF01cMPypqqjCA4q46vyaHPml9Ug4M-wNI_3XeqUyy1cOqA8B1eIuiaA1KRWuex4QhvJqTRSz4mkcP5pdO1LLIVYtiWwo0W1Sk/s640/VN+pt2-47.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent a while photographing the kids on bikes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtd6bvaccC8gMTqEqFx1fMUuDqvXi18SCwNdm1cRjixr59llO-Y-uvB6Gy6UgWfTmISyo0ombabvlRhPQsltVe7Wh0Ce2Mt3LqdHNBhyphenhyphen6Gu1Ob1PYiI5ebD0OpeC5xEtz9Kq4UHwgh6s/s1600/VN+pt2-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtd6bvaccC8gMTqEqFx1fMUuDqvXi18SCwNdm1cRjixr59llO-Y-uvB6Gy6UgWfTmISyo0ombabvlRhPQsltVe7Wh0Ce2Mt3LqdHNBhyphenhyphen6Gu1Ob1PYiI5ebD0OpeC5xEtz9Kq4UHwgh6s/s640/VN+pt2-48.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJwoGN0S9tuqkUBVk7eMBFom54vX08YqbLfTj1xEvabioImBPf6UydEXudm0sPxj2lGG6JNSzvEnkE1wBObCvaZ-lW0LLMxmTJ9K_5-qghM55Cd25pnR2-35OCzsX1UEOJjg0v83OM3k/s1600/VN+pt2-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJwoGN0S9tuqkUBVk7eMBFom54vX08YqbLfTj1xEvabioImBPf6UydEXudm0sPxj2lGG6JNSzvEnkE1wBObCvaZ-lW0LLMxmTJ9K_5-qghM55Cd25pnR2-35OCzsX1UEOJjg0v83OM3k/s640/VN+pt2-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dalat traffic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nohSKoCAaEOBQjwJfvwA5mHs6la6sZgLVEvH7PLIv3_B8wLJb8T8C7L7640epGyXMvb9P8eQDCOY8VTJiMiWIW7KtNgsUx_IUnpozdfSY8dtc4dllyUVUYSBxfR8no0ZT-IAZvAHOEc/s1600/VN+pt2-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nohSKoCAaEOBQjwJfvwA5mHs6la6sZgLVEvH7PLIv3_B8wLJb8T8C7L7640epGyXMvb9P8eQDCOY8VTJiMiWIW7KtNgsUx_IUnpozdfSY8dtc4dllyUVUYSBxfR8no0ZT-IAZvAHOEc/s640/VN+pt2-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A busy interchange.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
For our second day in Dalat we decided to book on a countryside tour from our hotel; and although neither Alex or I are a fan of group tours, it was an easier way of seeing lots of places that we otherwise might not find for just £10. There were six of us on the trip, and by chance we were all British. The minibus stopped at a flower farm, a coffee plantation, a cricket farm, a place where they produce weasel shit coffee, a silk factory, a huge waterfall, a temple, an ethnic village and a house of psychedelic architecture. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The flower farm was nice, but essentially a collection of huge greenhouses and not massively exciting, but a pleasant way to start the day. Dalat is famous within Vietnam for producing flowers, and exports to the entire SE Asian region. </div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrK-LAU2j2t73GqVYUmTYVlBUzLB17T6mgQYzvgrQo5LCNR8vHrHY3rthSqG7pSkS9KPvjeuV0J5NQf_rQUPh5FaNv6dsuGnqik87zUYrsb_a5ARw0NQ-G9sFrUCu7ADf6ccObeRhYdgg/s1600/VN+pt2-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrK-LAU2j2t73GqVYUmTYVlBUzLB17T6mgQYzvgrQo5LCNR8vHrHY3rthSqG7pSkS9KPvjeuV0J5NQf_rQUPh5FaNv6dsuGnqik87zUYrsb_a5ARw0NQ-G9sFrUCu7ADf6ccObeRhYdgg/s640/VN+pt2-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside one of the greenhouses.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG1t_eHgmcGWgYNaNhoNttYX0APGNuYHxDzLkDj9SYW61aMp6uGZJKeoiMUO7gVhHcIDoBuB39Gn6i6_YJbIml4bN_8trXpD_1HH1Z0cr-jCT_G5AwNZdyIANrc7g4KmQ5MZoWHn9zlQ/s1600/VN+pt2-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG1t_eHgmcGWgYNaNhoNttYX0APGNuYHxDzLkDj9SYW61aMp6uGZJKeoiMUO7gVhHcIDoBuB39Gn6i6_YJbIml4bN_8trXpD_1HH1Z0cr-jCT_G5AwNZdyIANrc7g4KmQ5MZoWHn9zlQ/s640/VN+pt2-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views over the Dalat countryside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="p1">
Next stop was a coffee plantation, and the Dalat region is once again heavily turned over to the production of this global drink, and is apparently the second biggest exporter of coffee in the world after Columbia. It was interesting to see how coffee beans grow like berries on the eight foot high coffee bushes. Everywhere in this region, from front yards to petrol station forecourts, coffee beans are spread out on blankets drying in the sun, with sometimes dogs sleeping on the beans. I guess it helps with the drying.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgieMGMcHsY-310wmiGvjPRBS5sfFM80KEVMstMUK33zkPtAVrL4-oQjBoLf4hQCdW5hY14FS5qgtLVj6nNGDSdnkYAFN2aHWqIJ6UqAsObczBzVTB4rRJTpTgY9k7C0IsokOXj8Xf9w/s1600/VN+pt2-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgieMGMcHsY-310wmiGvjPRBS5sfFM80KEVMstMUK33zkPtAVrL4-oQjBoLf4hQCdW5hY14FS5qgtLVj6nNGDSdnkYAFN2aHWqIJ6UqAsObczBzVTB4rRJTpTgY9k7C0IsokOXj8Xf9w/s640/VN+pt2-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beans on the bush.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEV1wwaCJwoIP24N4EvJy-hXaJWkEkby8l_lyYwc60QCeQkJBEM3sfZZ0GtKvHAsLjSdT1_7BgYuqkYkdN28J9XOVzNJ7HZ6Z43LDhpiqJNG3bUgy_xLmiwyhtpti976WDeYUgL_Sg_Q/s1600/VN+pt2-56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEV1wwaCJwoIP24N4EvJy-hXaJWkEkby8l_lyYwc60QCeQkJBEM3sfZZ0GtKvHAsLjSdT1_7BgYuqkYkdN28J9XOVzNJ7HZ6Z43LDhpiqJNG3bUgy_xLmiwyhtpti976WDeYUgL_Sg_Q/s640/VN+pt2-56.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wake up and smell the coffee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9hQxwVVeNo7SJD7FFV3N8oJSJn6gBYorw4pdFksUGBoHtv3KsuRXMtAgirdi-cDBAZDD0wQdn5X0SiTvYzAjBk3CS6DeN_QsMs8h7GxrPB_iJOiwNcOT5Ybx6J1IviQBr_VZvkqEr04/s1600/VN+pt2-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9hQxwVVeNo7SJD7FFV3N8oJSJn6gBYorw4pdFksUGBoHtv3KsuRXMtAgirdi-cDBAZDD0wQdn5X0SiTvYzAjBk3CS6DeN_QsMs8h7GxrPB_iJOiwNcOT5Ybx6J1IviQBr_VZvkqEr04/s640/VN+pt2-57.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colourful scarves for sale.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
We then headed to a cricket farm, where crickets are bred in piles of dry leaves, to be sold and cooked as snacks. It's not much different to eating shrimps really, but I wasn't keen on the idea of it. When we left the breeding tanks we had a plate of fried crickets put in front of us. Only Alex and I from our group decided to try the bugs, and I have to say, they tasted quite alright. They'd been fried in chilli and lemongrass, so were more like some posh crisps than a disgusting horrorshow. I munched about five of the creatures, enough to sample, but not enough to ruin my lunch. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJGN-yl9Js_0mXnbAPdx4YMqHVDETolJAEcVQe9SwRzATYjwcYUJQ7xO15NfxYLOx94TpGsf6XEPYjQJnUYZphc03GOYRxdCA4ZFOneJsre1AwXqIqJTC1J-AXyw_rRaiZcUBKQb75y4/s1600/VN+pt2-58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJGN-yl9Js_0mXnbAPdx4YMqHVDETolJAEcVQe9SwRzATYjwcYUJQ7xO15NfxYLOx94TpGsf6XEPYjQJnUYZphc03GOYRxdCA4ZFOneJsre1AwXqIqJTC1J-AXyw_rRaiZcUBKQb75y4/s640/VN+pt2-58.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plate of fried crickets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJz7gLLNY2tvOHQFHGAbDNCHY2t8FMG5g04uiHGhftHAv_691tcXqqqJBsKK8siHrRiYI3DgqVBokY41pTwUXvaj6fyOXyJwmzeQMqM0KrtZxTaDke6nDhs97i0bSjdVrLRrpHrqgQr4/s1600/VN+pt2-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJz7gLLNY2tvOHQFHGAbDNCHY2t8FMG5g04uiHGhftHAv_691tcXqqqJBsKK8siHrRiYI3DgqVBokY41pTwUXvaj6fyOXyJwmzeQMqM0KrtZxTaDke6nDhs97i0bSjdVrLRrpHrqgQr4/s640/VN+pt2-59.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In she goes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1QSyPwrv9WqsrhppXf9QxIY6yqUTH04dbAQqq5GDNn6yqDsnEUSl_Ozc1x7FyuWqNnLD7vHtfJcZFdDF71McnyKKrAuZbIwsOm2Dtor0zCTn21n_5IDtL9Sxri5_8EjihavuOXDETRo/s1600/VN+pt2-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1QSyPwrv9WqsrhppXf9QxIY6yqUTH04dbAQqq5GDNn6yqDsnEUSl_Ozc1x7FyuWqNnLD7vHtfJcZFdDF71McnyKKrAuZbIwsOm2Dtor0zCTn21n_5IDtL9Sxri5_8EjihavuOXDETRo/s640/VN+pt2-60.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div class="p1">
Crunchy.</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After eating fried insects, we headed to a weasel farm where they produce a special type of coffee. Weasels are fed a type of coffee bean, which are digested, processed by the weasels enzymes, before being shat out, washed and turned into an expensive coffee. We opted to have a cup; besides, I needed to wash the cricket legs out of my teeth with something, it may as well be a hot cup of weasel shit coffee. The coffee was delicious, both bitter and sweet, both literally and metaphorically.<br />
<div class="p1">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyLAC2t6wZt8-T4vtJ2EZy-vJ8Mo30T30BrXQ736o1SA7LoHAl6BiW0nAKQJrOWwIJF7WOru81YHpQsiQrHFocxhPm__7drKanJ99kJFUm-86_grgnck4E5YfdRG1SIS_bKnqtS4rM-s/s1600/VN+pt2-62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyLAC2t6wZt8-T4vtJ2EZy-vJ8Mo30T30BrXQ736o1SA7LoHAl6BiW0nAKQJrOWwIJF7WOru81YHpQsiQrHFocxhPm__7drKanJ99kJFUm-86_grgnck4E5YfdRG1SIS_bKnqtS4rM-s/s640/VN+pt2-62.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A caged weasel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6irq_RG6WA035jHvMZTr9ZWAT2I7k5iZIAzkje5TwNlu3kF1qpBNqGy6uC7-hUOJ-LyvgppEtQa_Sz2bKG8_YwudL42f6nadVvN4pfsn9KNJSOdp4xX0q5XDEGDpCFmTsnW61RczGcM/s1600/VN+pt2-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6irq_RG6WA035jHvMZTr9ZWAT2I7k5iZIAzkje5TwNlu3kF1qpBNqGy6uC7-hUOJ-LyvgppEtQa_Sz2bKG8_YwudL42f6nadVvN4pfsn9KNJSOdp4xX0q5XDEGDpCFmTsnW61RczGcM/s640/VN+pt2-61.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee beans drying out having been through the digestive tract of a weasel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAZaVNs6777ZEj5cxffYOaJEQ6PY8fBKdmxuxotNH58QdTkO8sVRt1zZ6nS2eokwyZxCjCT3D8kx0RV9akE8JsxX_2PrQCjMV8ZWkAegSreIWgfJdceMtYxUHQRFgy6sWY9uM-IQAC2o/s1600/VN+pt2-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAZaVNs6777ZEj5cxffYOaJEQ6PY8fBKdmxuxotNH58QdTkO8sVRt1zZ6nS2eokwyZxCjCT3D8kx0RV9akE8JsxX_2PrQCjMV8ZWkAegSreIWgfJdceMtYxUHQRFgy6sWY9uM-IQAC2o/s640/VN+pt2-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A strong shot of weasel shit wakes you up in the morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We then headed to a silk factory, where silk worms are allowed to go into a chrysalis, and they spin a cocoon of silk around their wormy bodies. Somewhere along the line part of the process involves boiling up these little bugs to steal the silk, and it's then somehow spun into a thread to be used as silk.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLLTwLUuPWpuzlsg3ZojS2v9FC2bT3nUNfiV_VIMuWxtSinZJq__XQt63RQW8kmyNvYHXxT2QbNmkbAdQNX54YOJ3M3QIvIKWVRUlNCA3gEPK4nTbPGqt2oOLGBDnz_u-L96Zy5icjmY/s1600/VN+pt2-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLLTwLUuPWpuzlsg3ZojS2v9FC2bT3nUNfiV_VIMuWxtSinZJq__XQt63RQW8kmyNvYHXxT2QbNmkbAdQNX54YOJ3M3QIvIKWVRUlNCA3gEPK4nTbPGqt2oOLGBDnz_u-L96Zy5icjmY/s640/VN+pt2-64.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The silkworm cocoons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfEmdyoMpfrVHtBV0OEiK8sOXSf78pLcUFzj67Z-b7hl_cfT21X6bfyKpSs4OhUw2cGAusp-yWHGvVDf58OFxjP7qqsnNKSWFUCygcTzMgDy3XAGU6vKzpWzJd_Ra51g6PXayHYVg1eY/s1600/VN+pt2-65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfEmdyoMpfrVHtBV0OEiK8sOXSf78pLcUFzj67Z-b7hl_cfT21X6bfyKpSs4OhUw2cGAusp-yWHGvVDf58OFxjP7qqsnNKSWFUCygcTzMgDy3XAGU6vKzpWzJd_Ra51g6PXayHYVg1eY/s640/VN+pt2-65.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The production line.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KlttZW37oM-is1W30mVP6YY5_QevVnTM_mEpIkPUCf4xL_hQ8_GheTMPrpUZl8NpOIUH7N6SeZOS2fUKUkIbFSJWOF-46mLNIPJd3JjbuoliN_I5DtRXOiRbYlar2V9fbKiyfcXi77g/s1600/VN+pt2-66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KlttZW37oM-is1W30mVP6YY5_QevVnTM_mEpIkPUCf4xL_hQ8_GheTMPrpUZl8NpOIUH7N6SeZOS2fUKUkIbFSJWOF-46mLNIPJd3JjbuoliN_I5DtRXOiRbYlar2V9fbKiyfcXi77g/s640/VN+pt2-66.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiling the bugs to steal their silken shell.</td></tr>
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The trip then stopped by Elephant Falls, a huge waterfall that we clambered down slippery rocks to reach, and afterwards we had time to look around a Buddhist temple situated close by.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant Falls.</td></tr>
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The penultimate stop was an 'ethnic village'. From what I gather the government had relocated remote hill tribes as it wanted the land for agricultural production, and so had constructed some pretty humble wooden homes for the people to live in. When we were there we only met the grandmothers looking after the little children, as everyone else was at work. The women were out in the fields and the men were further away, possibly in cities, trying to earn money for their families. I was told that they were a matriarchal community, and the wives family would buy the husband with a dowry of livestock. The more handsome and strong a man, the more cattle he would cost. I offered myself for two chickens, but was still rejected.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granny looking after the kids.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0ZlSvmaSWzJrGBpreKrWmYaUd34QNx8BpMEjmBrRX0b7DQ9eGDE9nuP-iT6ZpbGGXu7xvzrZM3K4KZW5jGnPI0PIhYbpq3rrA_-HYyD6sieTpWmHrkqsBTeLVXWXhN-LoCTdFSKq61I/s1600/VN+pt2-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0ZlSvmaSWzJrGBpreKrWmYaUd34QNx8BpMEjmBrRX0b7DQ9eGDE9nuP-iT6ZpbGGXu7xvzrZM3K4KZW5jGnPI0PIhYbpq3rrA_-HYyD6sieTpWmHrkqsBTeLVXWXhN-LoCTdFSKq61I/s640/VN+pt2-69.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granny and the grandchildren.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnAbav5SnFXB97Ct-jpzzYTVEwYfyoNTy0kJchOsDKc-qnl9awVJ5AZO9titstEhpXKPY5u_Zfr9TVwXgC9b-vaD_AzwOAgQlRWi81UXs5cQajiQp6Wfyn2NWmGABmP9vVxCmQHhnVW0/s1600/VN+pt2-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnAbav5SnFXB97Ct-jpzzYTVEwYfyoNTy0kJchOsDKc-qnl9awVJ5AZO9titstEhpXKPY5u_Zfr9TVwXgC9b-vaD_AzwOAgQlRWi81UXs5cQajiQp6Wfyn2NWmGABmP9vVxCmQHhnVW0/s640/VN+pt2-70.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby on her back.</td></tr>
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The final destination was an enormous, Disney-esque building-cum-hotel, which purpose seems to be extravagance rather than function, and was referred to as the 'Crazy House'. It was partly designed by a Prime Minister's daughter and had quite a fairytale theme, with concrete carved into tree shapes and was very quirky. Having come from the government built relocation village, it felt rather odd to be walking around this monumental waste of money, by comparison.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of the 'crazy house'.</td></tr>
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On our final day in Dalat, Alex and I hoped to rent some mopeds and explore some more of the countryside. We struggled to find a place where we could rent some, and as walked around town the skies greyed over and drizzle began to fall, and we decided that getting wet and driving about in these conditions wouldn't be the most fun, so we had a quiet day around town and the hotel instead, and organised our onwards journey to Mui Ne.</div>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-57544182052466223802012-12-13T09:17:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.254-08:00Drinking in Hoi An & Swimming in Nha Trang<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We'd bought tickets in Hue for the open sleeper bus which would take us all the way down the country to Ho Chi Minh City, with five stops on the way and cost about £25. It's a popular way for backpackers to travel, the buses are largely used by Westerners and are pretty comfortable, with individual lay-back seats. The bus from Hue to Hoi An arrived late in the afternoon, and once we'd checked into a new hotel for $4 each a night, we wandered off into the old town to find some food, and were joined by an Italian named Stefano. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZq6wmLwkej17vQ52i3CEzC41toDaXhZRoXxap1K0uqWEjkOYOikqCK5tR4bV1z_y94uzjkyEXUM_gt2jcm3YekwyccIqO8MNfD2BtLY8Ui92oITBfAoMZr0ILuX8pwOalt4KFQ8pZjrc/s1600/VN+pt2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZq6wmLwkej17vQ52i3CEzC41toDaXhZRoXxap1K0uqWEjkOYOikqCK5tR4bV1z_y94uzjkyEXUM_gt2jcm3YekwyccIqO8MNfD2BtLY8Ui92oITBfAoMZr0ILuX8pwOalt4KFQ8pZjrc/s640/VN+pt2-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The open sleeper bus to Hoi An.</td></tr>
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Hoi An is famous for its mix of old architecture, it used to serve as an important trading port and has been influenced by a number of cultures and civilisations. Today the main influence seems to be tourism, the gentle streets and quaint old buildings now largely cater for outsiders, selling a wide range of clothes, with good value tailors on every street and a load of restaurants to eat at. The main focus of the town seemed to be the Thu Bon River, which was beautifully lit by lanterns, and local people did their best to flog us bracelets or paintings or floating lanterns to set off down the river.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shops line every street in the old town, and is a great place for cheap clothes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8V8GkHVhWBhZILNi2M4mR7LyQBAURom7BS3P1hgst4iDm1DXcrDIj-zRSzLQgkagQXxKtJFOfL2u7MnJvk_EJOIWxuZnBwOSCYsO-uZyad9a3vlRPLwyNsuu4NSZ0k8BJ9s32kBGZ-4/s1600/VN+pt2-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8V8GkHVhWBhZILNi2M4mR7LyQBAURom7BS3P1hgst4iDm1DXcrDIj-zRSzLQgkagQXxKtJFOfL2u7MnJvk_EJOIWxuZnBwOSCYsO-uZyad9a3vlRPLwyNsuu4NSZ0k8BJ9s32kBGZ-4/s640/VN+pt2-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paper lanters float along the river in the centre of Hoi An.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">The Thu Bon River.</td></tr>
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After dinner we decided to go for a few drinks. We could hear the heavy beat of dance music blasting out from across the river, and promotion staff were handing out flyers for bars as we wandered in that direction. We shot a few frames of pool in a quiet bar before finding the town's hot spot. We opted for the bucket cocktails each and that's always the turning point in a night. We sat at the tables outside chatting to a mix of people, before the crowd started to die and we walked for ten minutes across town to a bar which stays open until the early hours, the Why Not Bar. The neighbourhood on the way was ghostly quiet, but we could hear the distant rabble of conversation as we approached, and as we turned the corner we saw a pool of patrons who had gathered on the pavement as if they had been vomited there by the doors of the bar. Drinks were strong and cheap, we danced on the pool table and chatted to various groups throughout the night. I didn't see it with my own eyes, by the talk of the crowd by the end of the night was the machete wielding man chasing some American around. No doubt he deserved it. We stayed until the last of the late night drinkers were stumbling about, and sang our way home through the quiet quaint streets, like the obnoxious Westerners we are.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwih-LVSWCtFwCqRCNCKoRzdn0NGDaQvQjZ2OqxWeIWr7pCscy8ottJEQW0yQKP28qQTCBVXpZuNzNxAen7IPEBn581SAwntih39hPgslQwojbu-gCXHyrvJf4NPyiDNHTtHepul9HpT0/s1600/VN+pt2-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwih-LVSWCtFwCqRCNCKoRzdn0NGDaQvQjZ2OqxWeIWr7pCscy8ottJEQW0yQKP28qQTCBVXpZuNzNxAen7IPEBn581SAwntih39hPgslQwojbu-gCXHyrvJf4NPyiDNHTtHepul9HpT0/s640/VN+pt2-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself, a disinterested Alex, Italian Stefano who only made a brief appearance, and Lars.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drunk, dancing on the pool table, and I have no idea who she is.</td></tr>
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I woke up pretty hungover, and decided to have a quiet day and try and catch up with some editing and perhaps write a blog, which I never got around to. I had a little walk around town but did nothing of note. That evening we decided to have a quiet one, and I took my tripod along to dinner to try and capture the pretty lights and lanterns that adorn both sides of the river. The lanterns weren't switched on when we arrived, so we decided to have dinner and wait for them to shine. Halfway through dinner the town was plunged into a power cut, and even when electricity did come back, the lanterns were never lit. I managed to get a couple of photos, but I was disappointed it looked nothing like the night before, which had been a carnival of lights. We were just about to head back to the hotel for our promised early night, when we bumped into the American girls we had met on the trip in Hue. Of course we went for a drink, and lads being lads, we had the strong buckets of rum again, and as always this is the point of no return in an evening. I'd soon forgotten I'd been tired and a few hours later I was dancing on the pool table in the same bar we had been the night before. So much for good intentions. The night followed a similar pattern to the previous soiree, except there were no mentions of machetes. We walked home as the rats scurried along gutters and crawled through piles of pungent rubbish, and I didn't get my head on my pillow until 6am.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Catholic church close to our hotel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgr0V6Csn4HHGLkVXUAVMmVLpTyombWSHTzuD3789QEnm_o0QPn4S2cVkVou4FdFcGal1SNw_s3pQImoxY-gIMz-W9yI_ew9R1QpuODnYtbV5yGHZTiIffhAIO_YVHTON2Fu80qgJSi8/s1600/VN+pt2-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgr0V6Csn4HHGLkVXUAVMmVLpTyombWSHTzuD3789QEnm_o0QPn4S2cVkVou4FdFcGal1SNw_s3pQImoxY-gIMz-W9yI_ew9R1QpuODnYtbV5yGHZTiIffhAIO_YVHTON2Fu80qgJSi8/s640/VN+pt2-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down near the river, locals sell lanterns and the old Japanese bridge in red on the right.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palms on the pavement, looking across to the other side of the river.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjx3SwrCmbwSVMAnt27EXY0_cTArEsCJDUftaVcXJfKEVeoPTcl_Omzi5f7VFG8QW_dX1FI69AWh4NatiDzlMvv0QM1S82V6p-a4QScxoekOgs0jkp8rPDOxXZHPTnDZyoLNJH2Q6W9F4/s1600/VN+pt2-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjx3SwrCmbwSVMAnt27EXY0_cTArEsCJDUftaVcXJfKEVeoPTcl_Omzi5f7VFG8QW_dX1FI69AWh4NatiDzlMvv0QM1S82V6p-a4QScxoekOgs0jkp8rPDOxXZHPTnDZyoLNJH2Q6W9F4/s640/VN+pt2-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boats and bicycles, all very quaint.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZhfqIpNOY-6xuT4TRGGBxy93lqHTzvJzc1JmkCJrHYrEEKHcL4pliecZr_lyPcDW8AIZt5Wy8aTOA_Qg3Y-CLFmkDHcLcI-O6XPHun9IyNZLXzUveGgysle2bywtNIthxiGP7_TPIO8/s1600/VN+pt2-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZhfqIpNOY-6xuT4TRGGBxy93lqHTzvJzc1JmkCJrHYrEEKHcL4pliecZr_lyPcDW8AIZt5Wy8aTOA_Qg3Y-CLFmkDHcLcI-O6XPHun9IyNZLXzUveGgysle2bywtNIthxiGP7_TPIO8/s640/VN+pt2-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and Lars, laughing at videos of animals on YouTube.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcegoSEx4l3tSv2hEp32eYGpkIk74AUdVhpFzoouorVpe21LK3efZjeRcO8SxLyFhTPaOdB1twfdbm1aisBMguh-JetsysDPsmftgOfE71Z-oleb8pE0C3SYTzhcmT2m0S3yvorQIyKnQ/s1600/VN+pt2-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcegoSEx4l3tSv2hEp32eYGpkIk74AUdVhpFzoouorVpe21LK3efZjeRcO8SxLyFhTPaOdB1twfdbm1aisBMguh-JetsysDPsmftgOfE71Z-oleb8pE0C3SYTzhcmT2m0S3yvorQIyKnQ/s640/VN+pt2-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself, Alex, Lars, Liv and Abby.</td></tr>
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The following day I didn't feel like doing too much once again, and had a second failed attempt at catching up with this blog. All I seemed to do in Hoi An was take a few photos and get pissed, but there didn't seem to be an awful lot to do other than explore the shops which hold little interest for me, but it was impossible not to be impressed by the town's charms. It would be a nice place to visit as a couple. That evening Alex and I took the night bus headed for Nha Trang. We were joined by Liv and Abby, the two American girls, and the four of us ended up on the back seat of the bus, a shared five bed berth, where we watched a movie on a laptop. Lars had to take a different bus, as he didn't have the same ticket we did, but we planned to meet up once we arrived at our destination. A few hours into the journey the final back seat berth was taken by a middle aged Vietnamese woman, and she spooned me all night as I failed to properly sleep on the incredibly bumpy back seat. A few times I was close to slipping into dreams, when we were tossed in the air and awoken with a thud of my arse on leather, as the bus went over another pothole.<br />
<br />
In the morning we managed to be reunited with Lars after messaging on the internet, and we shared a room between the three of us once again. We slept for a bit of the morning, having had almost zero sleep on the bus, and after taking some lunch on the beach front met up with the girls who were already on the sand. I'm not one for sunbathing, so I spent a lot of my time swimming in the huge waves which were breaking on the shore. It was fun diving through the huge breakers, and attempting to body surf on the crashing waves as they rushed upon the shore. Quite a few times I was swept under and flipped around in multiple summersaults under the water, as a cavalry of white horses crashed down over my head and dragged me in the swirling currents.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgklk1XFI-irlxc_r7wby1gH8OOoaJ98IuIRxxkV9grH_DmFWNMRyjGdivUaDgfDDKZ8I93NfM0_XaHXU-2BBZr8rSXKB8nrOdpjmCyKZL57kW4Un-V4AV1cjnVLtCnK-IfyXmdVIPmQ/s1600/VN+pt2-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgklk1XFI-irlxc_r7wby1gH8OOoaJ98IuIRxxkV9grH_DmFWNMRyjGdivUaDgfDDKZ8I93NfM0_XaHXU-2BBZr8rSXKB8nrOdpjmCyKZL57kW4Un-V4AV1cjnVLtCnK-IfyXmdVIPmQ/s640/VN+pt2-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nha Trang beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fprEa0Vnm8dAGdJLr4krhhOxnChAfFkh9faBFHCLuQYsXHWTKQz6WQGsQ9H8a8MwctQMkZqzlzSl0h3rYbbN5lMeLN2cfjWJZuXUVsHOfTkBhqfhBJ9086AzVP5Uy93dWh89abLSk4M/s1600/VN+pt2-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fprEa0Vnm8dAGdJLr4krhhOxnChAfFkh9faBFHCLuQYsXHWTKQz6WQGsQ9H8a8MwctQMkZqzlzSl0h3rYbbN5lMeLN2cfjWJZuXUVsHOfTkBhqfhBJ9086AzVP5Uy93dWh89abLSk4M/s640/VN+pt2-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex in a breaking wave.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNr-AhgfcKFd06shgmwGM5kkm7htLh3KW5WKpJHV8nBp7pp2dxCn7rGuWpvil51LY5wKCPmgKKXAzxvKCvYBjuaPSF7YVgwVOuvvzLgUBo4fd55X44jB6xERUhIQcqQLl03wNBfMllLs/s1600/VN+pt2-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNr-AhgfcKFd06shgmwGM5kkm7htLh3KW5WKpJHV8nBp7pp2dxCn7rGuWpvil51LY5wKCPmgKKXAzxvKCvYBjuaPSF7YVgwVOuvvzLgUBo4fd55X44jB6xERUhIQcqQLl03wNBfMllLs/s640/VN+pt2-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars gets swallowed by the South China Sea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uvclkl8x8azcMEWmKmTrZMjOkUsm0CMkTmyHGx7RLSR7pFhRmJ_K5bS5OL3zCpLHnE0QADCJ9gpiET3IPa6pKk-sBojmp_QDYv336Nqhyphenhyphenuo9aHwK-EyWjLtCBfz_ejXonp8kp41Exyk/s1600/VN+pt2-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uvclkl8x8azcMEWmKmTrZMjOkUsm0CMkTmyHGx7RLSR7pFhRmJ_K5bS5OL3zCpLHnE0QADCJ9gpiET3IPa6pKk-sBojmp_QDYv336Nqhyphenhyphenuo9aHwK-EyWjLtCBfz_ejXonp8kp41Exyk/s640/VN+pt2-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Body surfing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-osoJnUH_qZEiC3KJfY6wqChyXz1lCHM4iDKxhT0GvvqrUaU4_Ie1ZEZV6MnsPhyGGTZe6QmHYTy-Sk5BxJRMRZuvyqew_3D-JIYTiuKn1FIl9oOgAiQ-Lzpon_d-Tet5bXThssEd2wY/s1600/VN+pt2-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-osoJnUH_qZEiC3KJfY6wqChyXz1lCHM4iDKxhT0GvvqrUaU4_Ie1ZEZV6MnsPhyGGTZe6QmHYTy-Sk5BxJRMRZuvyqew_3D-JIYTiuKn1FIl9oOgAiQ-Lzpon_d-Tet5bXThssEd2wY/s640/VN+pt2-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars 'Hassel' Hoffmann.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmSBnDTWS94MsLetKc1Uq9IjxYFUjPphTYHQDubx8-M_wn_LUJK_Ubmfc-5D5HYWk15rxNSBJa0uzNBMtZ3NiM-SbPy4G5yi9efkKpdji-zxT7rLm6zma7lzKfy6nP4wEz_fc4HNkjIk/s1600/VN+pt2-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmSBnDTWS94MsLetKc1Uq9IjxYFUjPphTYHQDubx8-M_wn_LUJK_Ubmfc-5D5HYWk15rxNSBJa0uzNBMtZ3NiM-SbPy4G5yi9efkKpdji-zxT7rLm6zma7lzKfy6nP4wEz_fc4HNkjIk/s640/VN+pt2-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex, Lars, Abby and Liv.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPRUMW8S1g94kZUnU43G-9KiGSpq7Sqe5F8MTOynUMTwlAMpBU8G3yofDo83hyphenhyphenZFUayCf8EqMvNagcQsVFyPVv7rsRkdt1XVoXzBnhfE88QVEs0zfVIXZ4EPlz-a6xRZNzkuzHbXt0ko/s1600/VN+pt2-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPRUMW8S1g94kZUnU43G-9KiGSpq7Sqe5F8MTOynUMTwlAMpBU8G3yofDo83hyphenhyphenZFUayCf8EqMvNagcQsVFyPVv7rsRkdt1XVoXzBnhfE88QVEs0zfVIXZ4EPlz-a6xRZNzkuzHbXt0ko/s640/VN+pt2-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wooh! Waves!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRsZ2SY_6MOS50IW929eJh77PnHANYa54Oe8lhLzv2-qweaSraAjApNo2-4_HOQ8AAVo8WTXKTDvSC_dDQfnu68AYcAvxICHMl8OXdRWmr-rEfjWoeKIQdQU8K4rvgQZnmdjU9KhFuw4/s1600/VN+pt2-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRsZ2SY_6MOS50IW929eJh77PnHANYa54Oe8lhLzv2-qweaSraAjApNo2-4_HOQ8AAVo8WTXKTDvSC_dDQfnu68AYcAvxICHMl8OXdRWmr-rEfjWoeKIQdQU8K4rvgQZnmdjU9KhFuw4/s640/VN+pt2-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diving under a charging cavalry of white horses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW367dYrnbSzd3wvqhq1ILrCZMT_gNjw4b4CTbEwAFi-NqbAKPZZ2oJkTVOQu9Oi6BMtorBjCOYIx50qP-HlirHKJjThobQz1yg_v1bbbWUEW1mvTItbVE1XKuSc30lIzLg3Nu8uKW0Ns/s1600/VN+pt2-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW367dYrnbSzd3wvqhq1ILrCZMT_gNjw4b4CTbEwAFi-NqbAKPZZ2oJkTVOQu9Oi6BMtorBjCOYIx50qP-HlirHKJjThobQz1yg_v1bbbWUEW1mvTItbVE1XKuSc30lIzLg3Nu8uKW0Ns/s640/VN+pt2-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Attempting to body surf, and often getting rolled around under the waves.</td></tr>
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After the beach the five of us hung out on our large balcony, drinking beers and vodkas, and playing card games. Once the drinks were dry we headed out to a nice Italian restaurant for dinner in the centre of town. With food and wine in our bellies, we wandered down the street and settled into a bar with a good dance floor for the rest of the night. It was a fun evening, sponsored largely by rum and jager, and we threw ourselves around to pumping chart music until we could sweat no more. It was another late night, and we staggered back to our hotel for a deep sleep once all the parties had died. Abby and Liv were leaving early that morning for Dalat, and I didn't envy their journey ahead.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkRdiCUgdqS11Bc-s4PSe65peMpXZJf_TN3pM5AJsaz-I6VlNL5Ug19_jdvogFpbQ-0OSZBIiwMQw4giQVnwqFZ4KKN2W1g4CkjIGa8UwppLzA-OxRFVIkAUvhMt1sPzVhDL3Wx5yz74/s1600/VN+pt2-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkRdiCUgdqS11Bc-s4PSe65peMpXZJf_TN3pM5AJsaz-I6VlNL5Ug19_jdvogFpbQ-0OSZBIiwMQw4giQVnwqFZ4KKN2W1g4CkjIGa8UwppLzA-OxRFVIkAUvhMt1sPzVhDL3Wx5yz74/s640/VN+pt2-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from our balcony on the eighth floor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Pt4MxNPW0Sipwva1BR6osqJroqQuPbChZe_FSQY0gBfbAfua1EMPBwQr1cUGQcXE9mECllwMOYsOL1jkB6YhJgvXoeQ6EmuwFsARBwZn5DZUc00pY9pmveUHAQsPviu2d97da23SWZc/s1600/VN+pt2-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Pt4MxNPW0Sipwva1BR6osqJroqQuPbChZe_FSQY0gBfbAfua1EMPBwQr1cUGQcXE9mECllwMOYsOL1jkB6YhJgvXoeQ6EmuwFsARBwZn5DZUc00pY9pmveUHAQsPviu2d97da23SWZc/s640/VN+pt2-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading out for the night, I opted to go dressed in disguise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c2mT61PDH42FhrCwqovMPv2hW1fLQzXkNbNWT_kptdOXUYhxmdo2YnSmShDzyuqVy_aQevCfIIu37W4_54dHZRhguG9jL9wTdveKClu4iz4gJiIlitGREM1kvjpZ-B5H55Dx6OmuXBo/s1600/VN+pt2-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c2mT61PDH42FhrCwqovMPv2hW1fLQzXkNbNWT_kptdOXUYhxmdo2YnSmShDzyuqVy_aQevCfIIu37W4_54dHZRhguG9jL9wTdveKClu4iz4gJiIlitGREM1kvjpZ-B5H55Dx6OmuXBo/s640/VN+pt2-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A disgusting, sweaty mess, sometime in the early hours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbov3lBWymyjTzAb5q9JVirCdHRs0A5XqWBr8i2HPmdKftiA2ELxmXGN-ffpPoS2evyCTg_fjFQog_dmJxVodKO9ouoerG2QBQ3XV7wUM0O3KL7DHhUT7ixSRIrED6LfwLoEPHP64Ulc/s1600/VN+pt2-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbov3lBWymyjTzAb5q9JVirCdHRs0A5XqWBr8i2HPmdKftiA2ELxmXGN-ffpPoS2evyCTg_fjFQog_dmJxVodKO9ouoerG2QBQ3XV7wUM0O3KL7DHhUT7ixSRIrED6LfwLoEPHP64Ulc/s640/VN+pt2-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nha Trang at night.</td></tr>
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After we emerged from our slumber, we wanted to head to the water park located on one of the islands just off-shore. We found out for some reason it was shut, which was probably a good thing as it looked expensive, and so spent the day on the beach, and I returned to play in the crashing waves once more. That evening was a much quieter affair, a gentle dinner, and then Lars had to leave on the bus for his next destination. His visa was fast expiring so had to rush ahead, and Alex and I opted to stay behind for another day in Nha Trang.<br />
<br />
For our final day in the city, we chose to do a $15 boat tour out to the islands a few kilometres away. We'd hoped to meet some other backpackers but our boat was full of Vietnamese, who were nice enough but we didn't make any friends. For our first stop we visited a fairly naff aquarium on one of the islands; they did have a few turtles and sharks, but the tanks were far too small. Next we stopped by a snorkelling spot in some turquoise water, and equipped with the most vintage masks and snorkels, were able to see some of the coral and pleasant fish who reside below the surface. The only trouble was, there must have been eight boats all following exactly the same route, so the sea soon became a lido and it lost quite a lot of its appeal. We seemed to be on the boat with all the locals, and all the other boats were filled with Russians and Europeans, mostly Brits. We made a number of stops during the day, the others were not really any good for snorkelling, so I swam a little and got sunburnt. There were too many people for my liking. The small beaches were pretty crowded and tipsy Brits pratted about in the shallows. We had lunch on the boat, and some odd, out of the blue happy hour, where we were given a free shot, the staff on the boat provided entertainment via a guitar and a drum kit, and two of the guys dressed in drag and sang some songs. I had to dance on the table with the trannys, and although I was sober, I didn't give too much of a shit, as no one bar Alex knew me. After the trip we had another quiet evening, as we'd be getting up early the next day to move on to Dalat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRJGi8q03PLC4W3A6bf7JxaLTJTnTfMBOqdlQOZ-7nNRtaNOInIsulYqB8VRmVhDkNBx5wORKyiFy0eFiIpKqUlaJ1mKe-q4Gab80rGJ12B39pFB35fxmq-G6PKa3R2V-pNZVFa2wBOs/s1600/VN+pt2-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRJGi8q03PLC4W3A6bf7JxaLTJTnTfMBOqdlQOZ-7nNRtaNOInIsulYqB8VRmVhDkNBx5wORKyiFy0eFiIpKqUlaJ1mKe-q4Gab80rGJ12B39pFB35fxmq-G6PKa3R2V-pNZVFa2wBOs/s640/VN+pt2-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Passing fishing villages on the way to the islands.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucY4x6lsiJMih4v7B-_rT_dxEtSUxRuqtlBY6jE5sCJJ59GmMeva39qYZMRimoYdlX9YzwLzL5558_LzbAfX6EE-XtK_ybgGGbZ81owrgZ9WWra-7KdyUhwumpXSMzGv6WVpf-ZG-X0k/s1600/VN+pt2-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucY4x6lsiJMih4v7B-_rT_dxEtSUxRuqtlBY6jE5sCJJ59GmMeva39qYZMRimoYdlX9YzwLzL5558_LzbAfX6EE-XtK_ybgGGbZ81owrgZ9WWra-7KdyUhwumpXSMzGv6WVpf-ZG-X0k/s640/VN+pt2-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Russians and Brits swamp the sea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e_CZTiWlKPNiaNOeiInl11WxZAasuUiM9HIlH1It9H2LoouplYiANdTxB02MeiaCNCM23NrhubWfx1vb3Tqg4IFcQ5WyVgo_HiV3xsSXGCkMbbPRJfM-F8J8CxzYca4tLctGN56xUec/s1600/VN+pt2-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e_CZTiWlKPNiaNOeiInl11WxZAasuUiM9HIlH1It9H2LoouplYiANdTxB02MeiaCNCM23NrhubWfx1vb3Tqg4IFcQ5WyVgo_HiV3xsSXGCkMbbPRJfM-F8J8CxzYca4tLctGN56xUec/s640/VN+pt2-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex relaxing in the shade.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILBnNDcUkIRJpE4XgL9js6QY-waclwe_T8P8dGmU1lI-d_zwuWClqVngVtm9ALCnjby7M4Il3uvGgAEyC2X8ADR_8JIGw2ZThwXIwheSvs1RfJ0eF6EIypnUaF8KMHb8HHOt0YmNrh5U/s1600/VN+pt2-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILBnNDcUkIRJpE4XgL9js6QY-waclwe_T8P8dGmU1lI-d_zwuWClqVngVtm9ALCnjby7M4Il3uvGgAEyC2X8ADR_8JIGw2ZThwXIwheSvs1RfJ0eF6EIypnUaF8KMHb8HHOt0YmNrh5U/s640/VN+pt2-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too many boats followed the same route.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNef-6Afl7TIXY0Jb7OuP6-4caaeF3DwlMM4lYjLTzd9jeJvjvn93_KnIbEWkf5Pqt0puQ5bOOlJR14xmDj6N6anxujlVZwmfbsW5xeK7UwgFAZjb3oZ0jSIVaLHe_7WedYfGEshR-7M/s1600/VN+pt2-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNef-6Afl7TIXY0Jb7OuP6-4caaeF3DwlMM4lYjLTzd9jeJvjvn93_KnIbEWkf5Pqt0puQ5bOOlJR14xmDj6N6anxujlVZwmfbsW5xeK7UwgFAZjb3oZ0jSIVaLHe_7WedYfGEshR-7M/s640/VN+pt2-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More fishing villages on the way back.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-2877443933113315312012-12-12T09:34:00.000-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.222-08:00The Ninh Binh & Hue Motorcycle Diaries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I took a bus with Lars from Cat Ba to a city called Ninh Binh, we weren't sure what our plans would be but the weather forecast for the north of Vietnam was pretty grim for the next seven days and we both wanted to find some sun. On the bus I got chatting to Alex, from Nottingham, who didn't have any concrete plans either and so decided to join us in our indecision. We arrived in Ninh Binh in the afternoon, and after a brief consultation with each other and the clouds, decided to take the train that night to Hue (pronounced Hway), a city halfway down Vietnam's long coast. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyaY7XBryb9dUbaHfXxbSLBIGmaBWIUfnlnn0unXet3kMdGjW1STzhNOwgLW3LBCLQ3nOmQ9iPnbsWuFlNP3h5x0ZPJEO8n5sMDdKBbwohXPV-ONx8EEBNTR9TJq2jNY4XGNQJ6EQkWw/s1600/Vietnam-62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyaY7XBryb9dUbaHfXxbSLBIGmaBWIUfnlnn0unXet3kMdGjW1STzhNOwgLW3LBCLQ3nOmQ9iPnbsWuFlNP3h5x0ZPJEO8n5sMDdKBbwohXPV-ONx8EEBNTR9TJq2jNY4XGNQJ6EQkWw/s640/Vietnam-62.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and Lars walking through Ninh Binh to the train station.</td></tr>
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After booking our sleeper tickets, we had a few hours to see what was on offer in Ninh Binh. We decided to rent some mopeds and take a little tour of the city ourselves and find some dinner. I hadn't ridden a moped for seven years, and rush hour in a Vietnamese city was a pant-shitting baptism. I really was quite nervous crossing busy highways as the chaotic traffic whistled past in both directions like bullet-fire, and I didn't feel confident on the bike at all. We didn't ride that far at all, only a mile or two, but it was enough for me, I was paranoid of hitting something or someone, as the roads were so busy with traffic and pedestrians swarming around me. Fortunately, I didn't kill anyone, and we parked our bikes in a side street and headed off on foot through a shadowy market. Ninh Binh felt a scruffy town, but I quite liked it. We took some dinner in a hotel, before heading back to the bikes, and I was trying to hide my trepidation, as now we were riding in the dark. Whilst my heart was still pounding I was slowly gaining confidence, and picking a moment to nip across a triple lane of oncoming traffic was quite the adrenaline rush. We returned the bikes to the hostel and waited until it was time to head to the train station. I bumped into the guys from Finland I had met in Hanoi, so chatted with them for a bit, before walking five minutes to the basic station and taking the midnight train. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXkYIuIxlwnyl-okBSlgTWKkCHfx4BdxKrKbXEbDgHjqStZbk9USFrqoQZ2PBrjTaEqj4RgRc05FGMMqht0bHWqbjNcJLaJpHrrlwzS-QRcNPf0GZKAiuBhisl6dm-RiR0Gr5wGWZ-Dg/s1600/Vietnam-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXkYIuIxlwnyl-okBSlgTWKkCHfx4BdxKrKbXEbDgHjqStZbk9USFrqoQZ2PBrjTaEqj4RgRc05FGMMqht0bHWqbjNcJLaJpHrrlwzS-QRcNPf0GZKAiuBhisl6dm-RiR0Gr5wGWZ-Dg/s640/Vietnam-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street food near Ninh Binh market.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMF2vedpzg37r0hQbY1EWqdJ-TSl-lcO-sjMOpoGWCys-W3-Iq0HbqsOFBwR15i_pRzkHPKOdEhjjJZ0w3ZxeNX-Z89wsGclVKoIud5d1fdROOpLx58r1GWPdW1v58KHaIxArNxIPvHtg/s1600/Vietnam-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMF2vedpzg37r0hQbY1EWqdJ-TSl-lcO-sjMOpoGWCys-W3-Iq0HbqsOFBwR15i_pRzkHPKOdEhjjJZ0w3ZxeNX-Z89wsGclVKoIud5d1fdROOpLx58r1GWPdW1v58KHaIxArNxIPvHtg/s640/Vietnam-64.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the market.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1IoQ4mLcaacj6F1qbbj4UuXMjCP8ZpSVwb2hce2Se-MMjF9VFozjnsZqXllxgOvNQ6ohSh5ay38wuqKSEzg8unlMzdN-ut7Zvw2Rhc6DlMhqrvG3t9fjRASMfqx6lsGcvovIZGduG80/s1600/Vietnam-65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1IoQ4mLcaacj6F1qbbj4UuXMjCP8ZpSVwb2hce2Se-MMjF9VFozjnsZqXllxgOvNQ6ohSh5ay38wuqKSEzg8unlMzdN-ut7Zvw2Rhc6DlMhqrvG3t9fjRASMfqx6lsGcvovIZGduG80/s640/Vietnam-65.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The streets of Ninh Binh.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b_JgoT7mS2gC0_SIMq0vALg5gfWNgVe0b6wJOXwhYvWqKgjU6__tQedoXhp6h1F3N7_e_7mtx5ZE-kHIlr3jYMDx-O8t8ozUNflaDqbZUTNfBwkwpeCtVztz854K8ZuxlffDqeWtWao/s1600/Vietnam-66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b_JgoT7mS2gC0_SIMq0vALg5gfWNgVe0b6wJOXwhYvWqKgjU6__tQedoXhp6h1F3N7_e_7mtx5ZE-kHIlr3jYMDx-O8t8ozUNflaDqbZUTNfBwkwpeCtVztz854K8ZuxlffDqeWtWao/s640/Vietnam-66.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruit seller.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3eznAx6s-3jRpF-FQYD3zdca0uWTLa78n7-ZvDCpRUYO_JRnU-xmfilPAn8bLrH9RxZ-xUDThwKMHaRFQCTyD4RmevpW_Km5sSGn1WcF2J_Znidb8aLQom-kVu3Bo9ISKHr12KyHBn0/s1600/Vietnam-67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3eznAx6s-3jRpF-FQYD3zdca0uWTLa78n7-ZvDCpRUYO_JRnU-xmfilPAn8bLrH9RxZ-xUDThwKMHaRFQCTyD4RmevpW_Km5sSGn1WcF2J_Znidb8aLQom-kVu3Bo9ISKHr12KyHBn0/s640/Vietnam-67.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Veg seller.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUT3_ahKCSX7kCRKNWFe8LxsJ5jwrbQREDr4Ufpxu5p9YSMD2WOzyBQsVx8-VoUcJDCIIkdpebTFM8FtiNR9uXqM3N5zPcW-uLmw6jHWIp_82BQWLWSZhwUG7gZBPuB4hT0Le5z5Su1as/s1600/Vietnam-68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUT3_ahKCSX7kCRKNWFe8LxsJ5jwrbQREDr4Ufpxu5p9YSMD2WOzyBQsVx8-VoUcJDCIIkdpebTFM8FtiNR9uXqM3N5zPcW-uLmw6jHWIp_82BQWLWSZhwUG7gZBPuB4hT0Le5z5Su1as/s640/Vietnam-68.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A heavy load.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-7k0OYy-OETvVDX5voUF8ZhxXFWBZ90JmX5yUmGSCrpEY5GGYs9lv23J_IVn7VOjKLLkV7KY8C4TkYqnh3q-5rq5zzCdK6ru1c5kIhvHsQ1ZD3MnyUQdxznTJ_wcpE2KUZ-ZY6ch_yQ/s1600/Vietnam-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-7k0OYy-OETvVDX5voUF8ZhxXFWBZ90JmX5yUmGSCrpEY5GGYs9lv23J_IVn7VOjKLLkV7KY8C4TkYqnh3q-5rq5zzCdK6ru1c5kIhvHsQ1ZD3MnyUQdxznTJ_wcpE2KUZ-ZY6ch_yQ/s640/Vietnam-69.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsYQ9oEZO6RIJr39vs9-YYL6rZz5fX3wnNejfez6pLtIH6FYI7TdezVbSeCsxO7PYiuA84JwuDUttGsIg9a6jubDt_Cq7A7q6klqA2BPMrB2LKLwiRQYgGyzWuwoc4cYhG4uWdFlwieA/s1600/Vietnam-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsYQ9oEZO6RIJr39vs9-YYL6rZz5fX3wnNejfez6pLtIH6FYI7TdezVbSeCsxO7PYiuA84JwuDUttGsIg9a6jubDt_Cq7A7q6klqA2BPMrB2LKLwiRQYgGyzWuwoc4cYhG4uWdFlwieA/s640/Vietnam-70.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the train to arrive.</td></tr>
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We arrived in Hue early the following morning and found the sun we wanted. After grabbing a coffee in a street side cafe, we accepted the sales pitch of one of the hotel hawkers who had approached us exiting the station and took a taxi to a hotel. After checking in we decided to rent some mopeds again and find the beach. The roads were much quieter this time, and after yesterday's experience I felt much more confident. Within 15 minutes on the bike we had left the city and I felt comfortable on my machine. The main highway out of the city was wide and pretty calm, and I pushed the bike as fast as 80km/h before deciding that that was quite fast enough. We followed a coastal road that was lightly populated, stopping a few times to look at things of interest along the way, including an ornate temple and rural Vietnamese scenes of long boats and farmers in fields.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDhgR5EVAD9vqF_k9188XVWnAiuw2KOufBZW04-_6kx7M8AyTYLEbf6COet_3su5JKtldFulf5CscfJfNG1Zx1aZNN10O2-j69WGaLfwtdNu1AncxGJEoP1KGhIuIFX2HFtcq5YM-GfQ/s1600/Vietnam-71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDhgR5EVAD9vqF_k9188XVWnAiuw2KOufBZW04-_6kx7M8AyTYLEbf6COet_3su5JKtldFulf5CscfJfNG1Zx1aZNN10O2-j69WGaLfwtdNu1AncxGJEoP1KGhIuIFX2HFtcq5YM-GfQ/s640/Vietnam-71.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River boats seen from the highway bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawldcpySLtNE8wJf1j1abB8QBuwieUt_LXmIjUURvE74x0NPgtLrdiJWYDPKBRWGxq1HA-r54JcobkCSi4OL9LOVdkuM9JXhOLZfeqn7T8rNgEi4pA7XdUQopuBKRYGTHLFYb-iu-BFM/s1600/Vietnam-73.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawldcpySLtNE8wJf1j1abB8QBuwieUt_LXmIjUURvE74x0NPgtLrdiJWYDPKBRWGxq1HA-r54JcobkCSi4OL9LOVdkuM9JXhOLZfeqn7T8rNgEi4pA7XdUQopuBKRYGTHLFYb-iu-BFM/s640/Vietnam-73.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boats on the way to the beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P3PT8RVGJ4-wz-YeYFaBFpTcTsrSzXTVAJiU08eEB6oONo2uf8oyPmm-J8ZCJm-6iSjJ0wMaVsX-X55Dvw1RqPhyB9PlQfN-DJfseLju9LRkGcQZeQby2RJsS7xrMsLN_9mrybggGvM/s1600/Vietnam-74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P3PT8RVGJ4-wz-YeYFaBFpTcTsrSzXTVAJiU08eEB6oONo2uf8oyPmm-J8ZCJm-6iSjJ0wMaVsX-X55Dvw1RqPhyB9PlQfN-DJfseLju9LRkGcQZeQby2RJsS7xrMsLN_9mrybggGvM/s640/Vietnam-74.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some sort of temple we stopped to look at.</td></tr>
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We found the beach quite easily, which was deserted apart from a young Vietnamese couple, and a few hawkers who tried to sell us some fruit and crisps. After sat watching the breaking waves and eating a nice lunch of sauteed garlic king prawns with the sand between our toes, we headed back to the bikes to continue our exploration. We carried on down the road the way we had been heading for fifteen minutes, before deciding to look for a lagoon we had heard about. After asking a few people, we headed back the way we came and persevered north into unchartered territory. I was expecting a lush lagoon of turquoise waters and china-white beaches. My paradise hopes were replaced with the discovery of a more interesting scenery. The lagoon was in fact a large area of wetland, used by the villages for agriculture and fish farming. It was exciting to see local life up close, and felt a long way from the horns of Hanoi. The roads were empty, we barely passed any traffic the entire time, and we followed them into sleepy coastal villages. The tarmac roads gave way to sand tracks, and the bikes slid as they lost grip on the loose surface. The villagers were incredibly friendly. Many waved and smiled, or called out 'hello', and when we stopped to take sights in, some emerged from houses to come and see what we were up to with friendly curiosity. It felt like they don't get too many foreigners riding mopeds through their village, but they certainly didn't seem to mind we were there. As the light began to drop we decided we should head back to the city whilst we still had an hour of light. We passed many cemeteries all day, and other places that looked like graves in the middle of rice paddies. There seemed to be as many places for the dead as they were the living in this landscape.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSwtUFRqO31A8zgd337S9wZ_LcTG2WPOPpqnnO4YGFTN3Yj6CBjE1mcwY2pM4x-cxuY5yl6jjpOj8FilXmCWg7mzheO0AqiAWwYlqMNuuZijhfcf5ezGLMEUdzmw9Qnocqjp9D6x_PMk/s1600/Vietnam-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSwtUFRqO31A8zgd337S9wZ_LcTG2WPOPpqnnO4YGFTN3Yj6CBjE1mcwY2pM4x-cxuY5yl6jjpOj8FilXmCWg7mzheO0AqiAWwYlqMNuuZijhfcf5ezGLMEUdzmw9Qnocqjp9D6x_PMk/s640/Vietnam-75.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rice paddies on the coast road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCpr1Y7N8w37CtbC94lV1hKLHNdk_KnGqfxRH0oqCjY0rhueoWtfaOfDt0uBHARn2E8hDZD2jKJAl2ZFp8m4xa8KfurGSuhF80Nt_wTBXklqKbYKYyDrfyEywQnUccrLxQkxZRwQNFls/s1600/Vietnam-76.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCpr1Y7N8w37CtbC94lV1hKLHNdk_KnGqfxRH0oqCjY0rhueoWtfaOfDt0uBHARn2E8hDZD2jKJAl2ZFp8m4xa8KfurGSuhF80Nt_wTBXklqKbYKYyDrfyEywQnUccrLxQkxZRwQNFls/s640/Vietnam-76.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colourful boats in a small harbour.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjaZ3RJ0erYsemhQEvM9XS7TycTdnWXYs7LJT5EgmaStRPiLAkInnUxLOHquaoO-7Xj7otO-6_XT7nmZF2RwzypKmTOB6YNOFgrpt3ORVgK4_PIOE66bHgs-Q6zelxhjtospyRZkk2xI/s1600/Vietnam-77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjaZ3RJ0erYsemhQEvM9XS7TycTdnWXYs7LJT5EgmaStRPiLAkInnUxLOHquaoO-7Xj7otO-6_XT7nmZF2RwzypKmTOB6YNOFgrpt3ORVgK4_PIOE66bHgs-Q6zelxhjtospyRZkk2xI/s640/Vietnam-77.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars on his moped.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YJS0BP15HMRa-0BbvgIMA7pxE6arozAyo58HPpWGgIvHuMvlTbiOcwXQr7A2FNXvagwDi5SA_Ro2gB_6MJCtLUSoo3GJH77EhQ9V1bB2MlXfhwB4DuLOcpaNuvlnCfm8aPaxBChbNBc/s1600/Vietnam-78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YJS0BP15HMRa-0BbvgIMA7pxE6arozAyo58HPpWGgIvHuMvlTbiOcwXQr7A2FNXvagwDi5SA_Ro2gB_6MJCtLUSoo3GJH77EhQ9V1bB2MlXfhwB4DuLOcpaNuvlnCfm8aPaxBChbNBc/s640/Vietnam-78.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cemetery we explored.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-1K8eFo36VoVuNdfdETVvqsVxduql5-HjK5eN4BtPUW8OBKCvk1Ujww1hkQMcAlFGW1H2Qd9T6za0nvWwXjkadNSBEsO0zqtWl_D8_fyyH7yO5BYqhGPukhYIKp_7IYvht9x_3vBb0Y/s1600/Vietnam-79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-1K8eFo36VoVuNdfdETVvqsVxduql5-HjK5eN4BtPUW8OBKCvk1Ujww1hkQMcAlFGW1H2Qd9T6za0nvWwXjkadNSBEsO0zqtWl_D8_fyyH7yO5BYqhGPukhYIKp_7IYvht9x_3vBb0Y/s640/Vietnam-79.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working the paddies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTem0vrLv19g-psG-buSXbRnog5elNPhDLo4lBTwtJLBEqFnPVuUMimjfed6_BrEh6mdknd3nGzQHhNFcsyuIsuODpoPJbol7Oq4qqzZvx4SXZ3RgN9u5h6N_1KYr9p6XqF7zIiB2lRCU/s1600/Vietnam-80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTem0vrLv19g-psG-buSXbRnog5elNPhDLo4lBTwtJLBEqFnPVuUMimjfed6_BrEh6mdknd3nGzQHhNFcsyuIsuODpoPJbol7Oq4qqzZvx4SXZ3RgN9u5h6N_1KYr9p6XqF7zIiB2lRCU/s640/Vietnam-80.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hell's fairy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOHhiQ2dEiag1UDmbqumYqjNfUtDNSsBoFk_svdWtwOIdmtlQujKeTvR6DcF0MryRLy1i6uvkNxkFnlgMl4vIXwE7P-g4WiBm8Fky53nJvqqsogNKb5J2diy4Q_UNGEp70hzOgH1Tvug/s1600/Vietnam-81.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOHhiQ2dEiag1UDmbqumYqjNfUtDNSsBoFk_svdWtwOIdmtlQujKeTvR6DcF0MryRLy1i6uvkNxkFnlgMl4vIXwE7P-g4WiBm8Fky53nJvqqsogNKb5J2diy4Q_UNGEp70hzOgH1Tvug/s640/Vietnam-81.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQSE3s3Sjj6u9Ib1TeOebOhs7QylAMkZPhvzaG9qVXTBWs6CmHHrV5S5oV5DghBTmFcCEeTsGWRvOJWzVjwxF_Y8bKXv55HbjcnQiX0-s58DAzky6iQL4foMps-7CfAldc07m_4FUCOA/s1600/Vietnam-83.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQSE3s3Sjj6u9Ib1TeOebOhs7QylAMkZPhvzaG9qVXTBWs6CmHHrV5S5oV5DghBTmFcCEeTsGWRvOJWzVjwxF_Y8bKXv55HbjcnQiX0-s58DAzky6iQL4foMps-7CfAldc07m_4FUCOA/s640/Vietnam-83.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Underwater ox ploughing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitz510-qfhhbYYaFxL3T2dmA4JQ3-2ySoLJ4kmdiAWRfcs69I1Tt1BEsG9SBtWMnxCJkMBu1dizGw7-8W1M_D7mrdnZBXAXmDk2BYF401OcRntpMctvd3IHv4Wc81c3cg8zjIJr5aR2lg/s1600/Vietnam-84.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitz510-qfhhbYYaFxL3T2dmA4JQ3-2ySoLJ4kmdiAWRfcs69I1Tt1BEsG9SBtWMnxCJkMBu1dizGw7-8W1M_D7mrdnZBXAXmDk2BYF401OcRntpMctvd3IHv4Wc81c3cg8zjIJr5aR2lg/s640/Vietnam-84.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish farm.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmAlPJ4q-pgs347M8SolHURGrJ4txAO1pr_gjZc-qwIhCe3r20dj3BeimqdJ0bl3UFs1CFQZlSMPBtwDI5Cz5KxZ-fDwCUFdJQcGPuGZ4f3rNo6oz6A2sh8UXN3RYVZD73lJxAKcN400/s1600/Vietnam-85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmAlPJ4q-pgs347M8SolHURGrJ4txAO1pr_gjZc-qwIhCe3r20dj3BeimqdJ0bl3UFs1CFQZlSMPBtwDI5Cz5KxZ-fDwCUFdJQcGPuGZ4f3rNo6oz6A2sh8UXN3RYVZD73lJxAKcN400/s640/Vietnam-85.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More large cemetery complexes.</td></tr>
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That evening we went out for dinner along the main drag of restaurants. It was pretty touristy and we sat down in the place where the young staff tried the hardest to get us in. After dinner we ended up in a bar called Brown Eyes, playing loud music, and were joined by two Swiss girls we had met on the boat trip in Cat Ba, who'd passed in the street whilst we were finishing dinner and sat down for an epic game of Jenga. We inevitably knocked back quite a few drinks, and danced the night away with a healthy mix of Vietnamese and Western backpackers and were pretty much the last ones to leave the club. It'd been a fun night, I'd jokingly promised one of the waitresses that I would marry her in the morning, but I didn't wake up until 11am and felt like shit, so I guess it worked out for the best.<br />
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That afternoon we cleared our hangovers with fresh air blasting into our lungs by riding the mopeds out to some tombs. The tomb we visited charged $4 to enter which we felt a little pricey for Vietnam, but decided we may as well. It was only 100 years old, and belonged to a former King who ruled under the French rule of Vietnam. As it was not that old, and photographs were displayed of the dead guy, it wasn't that interesting, but some of the ornate wall decoration was pretty enough. It felt a bit arrogant though, to have such a huge and flamboyant grave constructed, when you're a puppet king ruling over peasants in shacks. In the pictures of him too he looked like a midget wearing make-up, so I didn't have the most favourable opinions of the chap.<br />
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We'd been approached by a local guy, who said he wanted to practice his English, and he wanted to invite us to his home for tea. I don't usually trust people in double denim with double lazy eyes, but there were three of us and so we felt safe enough to follow him on our bikes to his humble village home. His name was Ty, and he did seem keen to learn English, writing a few new words he picked up down. He poured us some nice tea as we sat in his one room shack, with no decor and just the simplest of furniture. He told us his life story, which had some sad elements such as his wife leaving him after their previous home was flooded, leaving him to raise his two children alone. Whether the story was true, we will never know. He also had a nice story about when he was a child, an American military base was close by, and one day he got to go inside for some reason, and was offered a short ride in a helicopter. He told us he was terrified and cried the entire flight. It was a sweet story. As we readied to leave, he said he wanted to buy an English - Vietnamese dictionary, and could we help him with money. I'd half feared and expected this to happen, so we gave him $2 each, which was enough for the tea and hospitality, though he said not enough to buy a book. We told him he'd have to invite a second lot of tourists back to get the rest for the dictionary. We said thank you and goodbye before riding back to our hotel. That night we took it easy with just a few games of pool against some locals, as we had to be up early the following morning for a trip we had booked on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7Cfpxq4tWORP-OYFQBDGgUshO8thXxDgyC4RwatzQUM6CG-0NHJFG_sUalEM8_0meTUSInbY4Ix1ZrJcq9L-MvoBg6VKTYWcLMVEBgFITrTU-aQ-dlVT1B4dyZx8Oj3vUcYUGVHqntc/s1600/Vietnam-86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7Cfpxq4tWORP-OYFQBDGgUshO8thXxDgyC4RwatzQUM6CG-0NHJFG_sUalEM8_0meTUSInbY4Ix1ZrJcq9L-MvoBg6VKTYWcLMVEBgFITrTU-aQ-dlVT1B4dyZx8Oj3vUcYUGVHqntc/s640/Vietnam-86.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out from the King's tomb.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF34LOkLTIEowViHEZWymW2XZ2hh2BIPaiT7tCkhNEXhKxh6NT2TnhPKAdg7D5t549fKtNII8PsVKnPZFdoh4E0vgaj2g_rPKVdgixKKdBVsj_OWi3U0G_NQJ-AO0iXzT8xjL76Klmdjw/s1600/Vietnam-87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF34LOkLTIEowViHEZWymW2XZ2hh2BIPaiT7tCkhNEXhKxh6NT2TnhPKAdg7D5t549fKtNII8PsVKnPZFdoh4E0vgaj2g_rPKVdgixKKdBVsj_OWi3U0G_NQJ-AO0iXzT8xjL76Klmdjw/s640/Vietnam-87.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the burial chamber, taken on Alex's fish eye lens I borrowed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsGsv0BqFXP7Iz9Ug9iLBvNJ-hncHlN-yA-Muuh1NWUQKvOBVLx3vKSubvNoX5O5X-RZ-BiSeyoMYstRhulu5m3Q_Enr0Onw3z5o2brhChU31c7dwqIYmVhOIi7WzrI6Fhm-CoOBhUac/s1600/Vietnam-88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsGsv0BqFXP7Iz9Ug9iLBvNJ-hncHlN-yA-Muuh1NWUQKvOBVLx3vKSubvNoX5O5X-RZ-BiSeyoMYstRhulu5m3Q_Enr0Onw3z5o2brhChU31c7dwqIYmVhOIi7WzrI6Fhm-CoOBhUac/s640/Vietnam-88.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ty, the farmer who invited us back for tea.</td></tr>
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The trip was exactly the kind of thing I hate. A bus full of tourists dumped at various locations for five minutes picture opportunity before being ushered back onto the bus. The first few stops were boring. They included the side of the road which looked at some hillside, and then a bridge built in 1991, but it marked the area of the war time Ho Chi Minh trail. We got talking to some American girls who we had noticed at breakfast for being pretty, and spent the journeys in between locations chatting and playing games with them. They were both recent graduates and knew each other from growing up in Boston, and were good to talk to. The next stop was a rural village, but I felt a bit awkward being part of a bus load dumped there to gawp at them, our experiences meeting people on our bikes the previous two days had been genuine and unimposing; this was not. Eventually we went to some war exhibits, a few tanks, planes, helicopters and trench reconstruction in a field. I actually found the field and landscape as interesting as the exhibits, with low valley cloud, maize crop and red earth, and I spent more of my time field walking looking for spent ammunition than I did looking at the parked vehicles. I didn't find anything. The final part of the trip took us to some of the Viet Cong war tunnels, constructed to hide from the American aerial bombardment, and entire communities of North Vietnamese lived in this dark and claustrophobic conditions. They were interesting to see and explore, and were the highlight of the tour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r_ceNwRTrHxSvCB4aQrb5NXKpyNg7M_BH1g1B7HiKWP5oMkc_jdKPGbmN5En0rZ1yGJGX5bJ_aHKctwH2E8K97X4fVT1_qKx6cyi_NJ-2Tpf95-KX9rEyUAn0aOSfmlQ6-QvgrhGcbE/s1600/hue+war+trip-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r_ceNwRTrHxSvCB4aQrb5NXKpyNg7M_BH1g1B7HiKWP5oMkc_jdKPGbmN5En0rZ1yGJGX5bJ_aHKctwH2E8K97X4fVT1_qKx6cyi_NJ-2Tpf95-KX9rEyUAn0aOSfmlQ6-QvgrhGcbE/s640/hue+war+trip-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the village our bus tour stopped at.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIswHTU543Adag99VRR41fQDq7ZDWRdN7j7LjfDLx_Mws9WZxzIqZMWnY4oaxgWNx5X_9M8BmjJMl0EiTOtBsYdE2p8Un2yJQ2mpjAm5yxwMSn1qrZ1hjJFULwX8vpxxOf3NDw3PM-Mk/s1600/hue+war+trip-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIswHTU543Adag99VRR41fQDq7ZDWRdN7j7LjfDLx_Mws9WZxzIqZMWnY4oaxgWNx5X_9M8BmjJMl0EiTOtBsYdE2p8Un2yJQ2mpjAm5yxwMSn1qrZ1hjJFULwX8vpxxOf3NDw3PM-Mk/s640/hue+war+trip-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The landscapes I preferred to tanks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5G-j3gDD_LlWaFWhzWOXE2lSigm6T9t40fuDf9GWSlOmJQAcDonH1JKfp2AhPo9uNXC6ZGrBAHjS95bGDf_clf7sXaoEHCU7rRiEtOC6CUfPE1M3RVRGN2kJRE5iywqZa1S6J8SpVdu0/s1600/hue+war+trip-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5G-j3gDD_LlWaFWhzWOXE2lSigm6T9t40fuDf9GWSlOmJQAcDonH1JKfp2AhPo9uNXC6ZGrBAHjS95bGDf_clf7sXaoEHCU7rRiEtOC6CUfPE1M3RVRGN2kJRE5iywqZa1S6J8SpVdu0/s640/hue+war+trip-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A US military plane seen across a maize field.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSAbEJwagDysG4qfmP5LauOINt24-uPOTFfsJtizxuJU5jzrqBH3KSZXjQG8iJSFbNU2IFuLKu0etJW4BvtIBs9UC_vhfVekYT9BQbRXeLULuCviXTNf0-Ic6UK18N3rv_UOLamrUzZQ/s1600/hue+war+trip-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSAbEJwagDysG4qfmP5LauOINt24-uPOTFfsJtizxuJU5jzrqBH3KSZXjQG8iJSFbNU2IFuLKu0etJW4BvtIBs9UC_vhfVekYT9BQbRXeLULuCviXTNf0-Ic6UK18N3rv_UOLamrUzZQ/s640/hue+war+trip-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behaving with dignity and respect.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqt_Jzmak_gdVcmTdx9NvcgcOoGBazL2TrByiCQqwebEQ2o7xUYVl_tUu1L9Sw-V_jUV0DqAQodBVg3oNZtQrlFJAdWdstt1UgA5HponPHtJSZmOJooKe28VOcbv2vIjiEFbsqS17DN0/s1600/hue+war+trip-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqt_Jzmak_gdVcmTdx9NvcgcOoGBazL2TrByiCQqwebEQ2o7xUYVl_tUu1L9Sw-V_jUV0DqAQodBVg3oNZtQrlFJAdWdstt1UgA5HponPHtJSZmOJooKe28VOcbv2vIjiEFbsqS17DN0/s640/hue+war+trip-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars in the Viet Cong tunnel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgq4A26NH-GyAaAZXF6lrSUehgQpn128aCEAlPtKkkvpFUB9ZGvDbzECBlAT28JDbRf9h1oMhShxnWVq7kHI897Yji8SPxhFn4-cLetaZ3mjN2VSHug2m6ltGH42Vs6bwAIU19q2Eu7I/s1600/hue+war+trip-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgq4A26NH-GyAaAZXF6lrSUehgQpn128aCEAlPtKkkvpFUB9ZGvDbzECBlAT28JDbRf9h1oMhShxnWVq7kHI897Yji8SPxhFn4-cLetaZ3mjN2VSHug2m6ltGH42Vs6bwAIU19q2Eu7I/s640/hue+war+trip-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending steps in the underground world.</td></tr>
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The bus was stuck in traffic for a while on the way back due to an accident, and so we were a little late arriving back at our hotel. We said goodbye to the American girls, not knowing we would be seeing them again soon, and had a quiet evening in Hue, as we would be taking the bus the following morning to Hoi An. </div>
Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-90569443421940276172012-12-08T01:30:00.000-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.287-08:00Ha Long Bay: Cat Ba Castaways.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lagoon in one of the islands in the Cat Ba Archipelago. </td></tr>
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I left Hanoi with Lars, my new German companion, and we took the public bus to Cat Ba island, in the Ha Long Bay area. I'd decided to head to Cat Ba on a bit of a whim. I had little information, aside from a brief report from a British couple I had encountered and quizzed who said it was nice, and the fact that everyone else in Hanoi were taking organised tours for two nights boat booze cruising in Ha Long Bay, for an extortionate $120. From Hanoi backpackers tend to make trips to Ha Long Bay, or Sapa, a place to trek in the hills of northern Vietnam. Sapa sounded good, but the weather was wet and having just trekked the Tiger Leaping Gorge the week before, I felt it may have been similar but with worse weather, so I gave it a miss. We took two public buses and then a boat and another bus to arrive in Cat Ba town, and there were about 8 backpackers altogether making the same independent journey. We all got along pretty well, clearly having similar outlooks to preferring the public transport to the private organised tours. </div>
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We arrived by nightfall, and took a twin room in a hotel for $5 each, with a view over the bay. Two girls from London, Elly and Camille, who'd made the same journey from Hanoi also checked into the same hotel, and we spent the following two days as a four. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my hotel room.</td></tr>
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We weren't sure exactly what to do on Cat Ba, but I suggested hiring some kayaks ourselves and going off exploring the islands and coves, and the group went along with this. We paddled through a fishing village, dogs ran along planks barking as we passed, and it was great to witness this way of life from the water. People nodded or waved as we passed, and fishing boats sped in and out to the open sea. We floated through a small cave to explore a lagoon the other side, before deciding to paddle off and find a deserted beach somewhere. We spotted a few strips of white sand around, and headed for the one which looked the most isolated. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for kayaking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paddling through the fishing village.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXycW-B8scrAMB4JpR4oVUjgYl3dVvX_9sUqpUF3GC4qH12dkE7m7tLlHjYbUvVcInsl-JfXSx8IcVFiW5_zZ7En5lPJPSFgYQ58jaadMJ09UEt0WmeucbFrwt8lnb1c4Z8qOHMCt0K1U/s1600/Vietnam-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXycW-B8scrAMB4JpR4oVUjgYl3dVvX_9sUqpUF3GC4qH12dkE7m7tLlHjYbUvVcInsl-JfXSx8IcVFiW5_zZ7En5lPJPSFgYQ58jaadMJ09UEt0WmeucbFrwt8lnb1c4Z8qOHMCt0K1U/s640/Vietnam-35.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I decorated my boat with some flowers found floating in the bay.</td></tr>
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Within two minutes of landing on the beach I was off collected materials that I could do something with, and within five minutes everyone was pitching in. It was never my intention to come and play castaways, maybe it was subconsciously, but it just seemed to happen. Nevertheless my new friends kindly indulged my fantasies and we had soon enough bamboo, frayed rope and rotting plastics to make something with. We put a little shelter together, that was more symbolic than practical, as we couldn't collect enough driftwood materials to finish it off. I would've organised a scouting party to raid other beaches but we didn't have time. Next on my agenda was fire, and it took a few attempts to get anything to catch. We tried using receipts from our wallets as the initial ignition, but this was useless. The final attempt of Chinese money and dried grasses from the rocks were the best cocktail for combustion, and eventually, after much huffing, puffing and stinging eyes, I had fire. As soon as I had fire, it was time to leave, if we wanted to make it back before dark. My behaviour that afternoon has earned me the nickname 'Robinson', from Lars.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YfjP0Xx_xRkXVRkeQ3ZBfq7jc6FKlQRJFvxb4XwhFydfgwV03ws94T2A9nzvdjfjZ1jd6729ojiT-lTfn2X6yueRfCEGhP5xS68q_CN1pxHuYT8sdvBIWWvOagATneuIgPYpFEXJzSI/s1600/Vietnam-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YfjP0Xx_xRkXVRkeQ3ZBfq7jc6FKlQRJFvxb4XwhFydfgwV03ws94T2A9nzvdjfjZ1jd6729ojiT-lTfn2X6yueRfCEGhP5xS68q_CN1pxHuYT8sdvBIWWvOagATneuIgPYpFEXJzSI/s640/Vietnam-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars and I making fire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDs9SxOgY5zrKHQ547cQqtcB6TFG1JyBkAWUEIWA3VdqUCcvQ11HBoa7zbeh_yL3W5VjJG-9LgjQHtiIMkYpHUPMdA0UUZWsK3GRHp-PWi1P4iMtVhmDzYrczrY5OO_Zi380rdd2TTvCs/s1600/Vietnam-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDs9SxOgY5zrKHQ547cQqtcB6TFG1JyBkAWUEIWA3VdqUCcvQ11HBoa7zbeh_yL3W5VjJG-9LgjQHtiIMkYpHUPMdA0UUZWsK3GRHp-PWi1P4iMtVhmDzYrczrY5OO_Zi380rdd2TTvCs/s640/Vietnam-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars, Camille, me and Elly in our four star shelter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVz_ThG_jvyYh2eDD4o6Uke2VmbCSUEMxZ2Damh35F2EoFqiDTOc5RmD9aifSG7zJexBX4DhYvyEGRML30mLc_ufiWSDhMwoq6kz4xuLa1v8v-GlWa2gufxlDY0o5WdsvZsZ03EUqN28/s1600/Vietnam-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVz_ThG_jvyYh2eDD4o6Uke2VmbCSUEMxZ2Damh35F2EoFqiDTOc5RmD9aifSG7zJexBX4DhYvyEGRML30mLc_ufiWSDhMwoq6kz4xuLa1v8v-GlWa2gufxlDY0o5WdsvZsZ03EUqN28/s640/Vietnam-38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm a fire starter, a twisted fire starter.</td></tr>
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The following day we took an excursion out on a boat to visit a number of places in Ha Long Bay area. There were perhaps a dozen of us on board, a mix of nationalities, but all European backpackers. First we motored through the fishing village we had paddled through yesterday, and this time I was able to take some pictures, having left my camera in dry safety the day before. We visited a cave, which was full of semi fossilised coral, it once having been underwater, and then scrambled up rocks to get a view over a blue lagoon. After lunch on board the boat we kayaked again, but this time they were double kayaks, and I shared with Alex from Paris, and I was pleased he was competent and we powered through the waves. We went through a number of caves, and explored a tranquil lagoon. We were ahead of the group and spotted a Giant Black Squirrel in an overhanging branch, and watched this monkey sized creature forage for food until others approached and the squirrel was scared higher.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hStxBDY9eHYw5TKDXF1YEZ7TAVQ2thgz0_IpUpi6U-o7A5Ecym2uzMMyDaKrScqZGxTI3KRmxpkKShpVqCxUzIlxqmbfRWLmitldYSCK40-ELoqSIs89vyPPFE8NDJbpP5WawnfmTT4/s1600/Vietnam-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hStxBDY9eHYw5TKDXF1YEZ7TAVQ2thgz0_IpUpi6U-o7A5Ecym2uzMMyDaKrScqZGxTI3KRmxpkKShpVqCxUzIlxqmbfRWLmitldYSCK40-ELoqSIs89vyPPFE8NDJbpP5WawnfmTT4/s640/Vietnam-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ha Long Bay landscape, a bit like Yangshuo, China.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing village.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLxgyXCy4eVqS98TYdDU0K48vl5vQisLe5FZPpze4jz0hqDOq2Pi4pa2NSSSHWGIMEBoT9bXV4TfYPCHsxlnh-zQCjadPOJPsMEA1PlmG3p2kLcGOTcdJQI2Z8z1HmPkC8udGvaBmjnc/s1600/Vietnam-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLxgyXCy4eVqS98TYdDU0K48vl5vQisLe5FZPpze4jz0hqDOq2Pi4pa2NSSSHWGIMEBoT9bXV4TfYPCHsxlnh-zQCjadPOJPsMEA1PlmG3p2kLcGOTcdJQI2Z8z1HmPkC8udGvaBmjnc/s640/Vietnam-41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning's catch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQwDRg8xiBpTDrp-RZ3hsl2lk8zbGfkDVT_HMB_Xaz-3WJBzxFtd0tX6qZG_etjGWl5DLhBFEgO_bcpBj2I91MrTbYjpT7BSx9TBM7RpfV8z0DmZaL3TyxEoWXLmyyHL5ozwu7nw9c4w/s1600/Vietnam-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQwDRg8xiBpTDrp-RZ3hsl2lk8zbGfkDVT_HMB_Xaz-3WJBzxFtd0tX6qZG_etjGWl5DLhBFEgO_bcpBj2I91MrTbYjpT7BSx9TBM7RpfV8z0DmZaL3TyxEoWXLmyyHL5ozwu7nw9c4w/s640/Vietnam-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot fisherman's wife does the washing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBvYRuNHRjOtLoFFkYW5nEEVQY9KqL2LSNlU_Hupc8rM66d7OalR4UeLWEKzHaErczyb1kiTkXQUD-iacYeSOyR7o_j7yn0T-Uwl89yfRYyFTm1_gIMte7AsgOp1Ai-PWxKskKX_pyNcs/s1600/Vietnam-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBvYRuNHRjOtLoFFkYW5nEEVQY9KqL2LSNlU_Hupc8rM66d7OalR4UeLWEKzHaErczyb1kiTkXQUD-iacYeSOyR7o_j7yn0T-Uwl89yfRYyFTm1_gIMte7AsgOp1Ai-PWxKskKX_pyNcs/s640/Vietnam-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterworld.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibbN7cBiv3zS5AJvffVhWFOiXn1oxtpae7w5nPT92Awr4LwiaDtHwSXAxsOcVcssGP-Ta5kbt5ZN-fqx_0QDsay_crwbmunU0sWz_O8nDJ6z23JF2bYFF7O20ppkwymDJpYjdVUTeuwY/s1600/Vietnam-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibbN7cBiv3zS5AJvffVhWFOiXn1oxtpae7w5nPT92Awr4LwiaDtHwSXAxsOcVcssGP-Ta5kbt5ZN-fqx_0QDsay_crwbmunU0sWz_O8nDJ6z23JF2bYFF7O20ppkwymDJpYjdVUTeuwY/s640/Vietnam-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fishing village.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLtp2lxg_q3ItfCBKc8k5Q0jKVw-S4rAfXaBBlkVXJDsPaoeUj2WKEBGVuJrIoPORpHQK7SLdOpYfziooRm67dAL-M-pTBRGeD4kmeuvMX-Wz0onFQpwDeVd2sd3PVHhVGJW6jsUZJjE/s1600/Vietnam-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLtp2lxg_q3ItfCBKc8k5Q0jKVw-S4rAfXaBBlkVXJDsPaoeUj2WKEBGVuJrIoPORpHQK7SLdOpYfziooRm67dAL-M-pTBRGeD4kmeuvMX-Wz0onFQpwDeVd2sd3PVHhVGJW6jsUZJjE/s640/Vietnam-46.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibsiNg3LhAWvAZY1eQ_YV0miJQs5cp6ELzzYILZ7phSnVMdkkWua1HjWjSYu3D_aIUaI-0FlZ9FZV-WJYKhdndwweef9xCr6U7c5lDE11jByZcTDpfNG2hppr_MfN9OqkD1yJppRXUJo/s1600/Vietnam-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibsiNg3LhAWvAZY1eQ_YV0miJQs5cp6ELzzYILZ7phSnVMdkkWua1HjWjSYu3D_aIUaI-0FlZ9FZV-WJYKhdndwweef9xCr6U7c5lDE11jByZcTDpfNG2hppr_MfN9OqkD1yJppRXUJo/s640/Vietnam-47.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqKhz_BSaFc251nCBayseuPKj38CoT-T3DaDA0sD0FZQsJVuRwPB3f88PopxWzkau_YF6cp5mL-ERPDhvt28gL-dNpAaO2FpLWjrN-J8lfNPcMtctxhnxidx1beRnngu88PyzA-_zne9Q/s1600/Vietnam-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqKhz_BSaFc251nCBayseuPKj38CoT-T3DaDA0sD0FZQsJVuRwPB3f88PopxWzkau_YF6cp5mL-ERPDhvt28gL-dNpAaO2FpLWjrN-J8lfNPcMtctxhnxidx1beRnngu88PyzA-_zne9Q/s640/Vietnam-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVMddbUDlOaEk9kG4dEgKB8a7fQ2XhmY__qsYNYSYxh1qhKUFyMHD8egmfUajVcJQmX_FpJRi6ap4srfydJIB10R7ZjtB05nopuNMG6GsYWGRSx4Gmjde6iIoicndfXAmhGnWpoTN9Lc/s1600/Vietnam-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVMddbUDlOaEk9kG4dEgKB8a7fQ2XhmY__qsYNYSYxh1qhKUFyMHD8egmfUajVcJQmX_FpJRi6ap4srfydJIB10R7ZjtB05nopuNMG6GsYWGRSx4Gmjde6iIoicndfXAmhGnWpoTN9Lc/s640/Vietnam-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the cave.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYKzOIn1ntlWOIy7AuZjCuGa5CHD7wKEx9G3G4-C4kDVpTi57E6PNyRHxyBefmKqej0pVowdS0OGmCXSTw6MiwUPlfCMImi6Pk0xqeRmlHjOwC8FL7VC69AD7kFvNgdAbFQFwo5MSi-U/s1600/Vietnam-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYKzOIn1ntlWOIy7AuZjCuGa5CHD7wKEx9G3G4-C4kDVpTi57E6PNyRHxyBefmKqej0pVowdS0OGmCXSTw6MiwUPlfCMImi6Pk0xqeRmlHjOwC8FL7VC69AD7kFvNgdAbFQFwo5MSi-U/s640/Vietnam-55.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars and I up a peak.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7o-FPaW81g7ij57-OFGir7vPAj9j2gphtUD2rctTizoipBzJMJuHISjZDUxXWiWJ6zLZsPCIRdHfmmN_sfMd_ohmgYgwYAaYahsl9EH65g53q0PGmYxjeEXTf45OXe9VuGrzjR80R2RQ/s1600/Vietnam-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7o-FPaW81g7ij57-OFGir7vPAj9j2gphtUD2rctTizoipBzJMJuHISjZDUxXWiWJ6zLZsPCIRdHfmmN_sfMd_ohmgYgwYAaYahsl9EH65g53q0PGmYxjeEXTf45OXe9VuGrzjR80R2RQ/s640/Vietnam-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the hundreds of islands. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Back on the boat we passed the beach which had been our castaway home, the tide was up and I could see through my telephoto lens that our shelter had been washed into the sea. Good job we didn't sleep there like I had fantasised. We moored up in a place with a small pretty beach and did some swimming, I snorkelled for two minutes, and saw some soft coral and two fish, but there was nothing much to see and visibility not great. We jumped off the roof of the boat half a dozen times, and had a pleasant afternoon. We even got a vague glimpse of the sun as it set as we returned to harbour. Back on dry land we played some street football with the local kids until we were sweating and panting, and spent the evening playing pool and table football in the same bar as we had been in the night before.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj21I9no4-mGJTWGdCW1FJXFr6Nsa-RDp9jDA9KnkRXUKRTuznmsmSf6F9P_44OW5d4lgPGF8g53o7TG12A2-7Wuf28jxksVnVv60pn-P7qGriUc4Om6PdUG-v2B5V5mFdj_m8yPkvLS5c/s1600/Vietnam-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj21I9no4-mGJTWGdCW1FJXFr6Nsa-RDp9jDA9KnkRXUKRTuznmsmSf6F9P_44OW5d4lgPGF8g53o7TG12A2-7Wuf28jxksVnVv60pn-P7qGriUc4Om6PdUG-v2B5V5mFdj_m8yPkvLS5c/s640/Vietnam-57.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secluded beach for swimming,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_M2OlY5637tdkC_CC6Lwv8ka5bpV0EwCaOtbWpNcAwC9wRUD7A3SyNzQPD_vW6Kqy6Y64Md46rxywhZQ7Wgjl2dUzuHY54LtlyPp16VQjity0L-A4HbGhLPFhH1T3M0XelRwkCKvPVA/s1600/Vietnam-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_M2OlY5637tdkC_CC6Lwv8ka5bpV0EwCaOtbWpNcAwC9wRUD7A3SyNzQPD_vW6Kqy6Y64Md46rxywhZQ7Wgjl2dUzuHY54LtlyPp16VQjity0L-A4HbGhLPFhH1T3M0XelRwkCKvPVA/s640/Vietnam-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice sailboat in the bay.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwVG2inNF7zbXIVmvzz2aLq_RuaGMy_YigNCvvGKP7LqFIEH3It9rM3naq7CZjA0LO-wvg0fyg5wy6erdqFl9x0GzSYagPaapVhjx4_sJ2Yu88d6IYBsWt_yc7tP1fy08ollEXNiyC_U/s1600/Vietnam-58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwVG2inNF7zbXIVmvzz2aLq_RuaGMy_YigNCvvGKP7LqFIEH3It9rM3naq7CZjA0LO-wvg0fyg5wy6erdqFl9x0GzSYagPaapVhjx4_sJ2Yu88d6IYBsWt_yc7tP1fy08ollEXNiyC_U/s640/Vietnam-58.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllTDWB5C3Dm3Lemrs3UZVDLNvDXyhDVPodOU1nifggv645eaJPVuGGoNwUgveft-XH_4OTnT0rdm2aeZTZt7edcxtWyhrmHh5OoMqE-9KRoFwiZfsdTK_cLJImy9TCi3KYjlGf75nm48/s1600/Vietnam-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllTDWB5C3Dm3Lemrs3UZVDLNvDXyhDVPodOU1nifggv645eaJPVuGGoNwUgveft-XH_4OTnT0rdm2aeZTZt7edcxtWyhrmHh5OoMqE-9KRoFwiZfsdTK_cLJImy9TCi3KYjlGf75nm48/s640/Vietnam-59.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Party boat full of Bantersaurus Rex's.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pmFmblJuLXQ_5OSpAlDVFQumm7HKm15C99In-5QdCU4_3CZlYF_33bUL7ziTBtAtKC7Xy87D8Yp6HhRdHahC741h0_xhTck0Y8NL4JHxQykKZOOjJXlYLnd9pXCKQpgkw3q9zccO2TM/s1600/Vietnam-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pmFmblJuLXQ_5OSpAlDVFQumm7HKm15C99In-5QdCU4_3CZlYF_33bUL7ziTBtAtKC7Xy87D8Yp6HhRdHahC741h0_xhTck0Y8NL4JHxQykKZOOjJXlYLnd9pXCKQpgkw3q9zccO2TM/s640/Vietnam-60.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-25741637772578865012012-12-07T23:59:00.000-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.218-08:00Good Morning Vietnam! Hanoi-oi culture shock. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr49vV27NQSzP2FsCOGzBhfNID1xuFsb01_ygc-kWF2bA1W9BR3QXSJ8D0sM9bVwS0MA2LcX-uXxxqO7zg-Qz2SqJFuHIkmjmkUe2e2EqRlsmV78PE9bK66S_iBH6swl-Ox-zuDwThStU/s1600/Vietnam-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr49vV27NQSzP2FsCOGzBhfNID1xuFsb01_ygc-kWF2bA1W9BR3QXSJ8D0sM9bVwS0MA2LcX-uXxxqO7zg-Qz2SqJFuHIkmjmkUe2e2EqRlsmV78PE9bK66S_iBH6swl-Ox-zuDwThStU/s640/Vietnam-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanoi residents exercising around the lake at dawn. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hanoi is a jungle. Motorbikes swarm like mosquitoes, their horns never cease as they weave through the pedestrians, forced to walk in the road as the pavements have been taken as parking spaces for other motorbikes. A wiry mess of overhead cables wrap around posts like vines on trees, and the colonial French architecture looks rustic and charming as it slowly decays. It feels very different to China, the European flavour still lingers in Vietnam, and the people smile, everywhere.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_iJhenzAL3vTBH9BXPBf382hNVVu9nAlj1VxBnhnXUkSlCPAUoUA7_0ulosly5oD_duAef_qm3C-DYjNsNskHGXxxIs6x0dvdDd01wiX1hNGLKkF5YZqlzgtMnDBXQnjYP32ArIMU94/s1600/Vietnam-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_iJhenzAL3vTBH9BXPBf382hNVVu9nAlj1VxBnhnXUkSlCPAUoUA7_0ulosly5oD_duAef_qm3C-DYjNsNskHGXxxIs6x0dvdDd01wiX1hNGLKkF5YZqlzgtMnDBXQnjYP32ArIMU94/s640/Vietnam-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanoi's old quarter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9cSxhKdSz4sVOdeu9fIGT3GYq-qghEKHhEOLnMuH7jiRGaBBSp0v_umvP0B9nDuFD332-zsKHfYVFFyhyphenhyphenrCiNIQoo3XiNCp7ZNAw8dMPIh4H7cdzsoYDz2ct3-J2Vnp79UDvfx6Dm0Y/s1600/Vietnam-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9cSxhKdSz4sVOdeu9fIGT3GYq-qghEKHhEOLnMuH7jiRGaBBSp0v_umvP0B9nDuFD332-zsKHfYVFFyhyphenhyphenrCiNIQoo3XiNCp7ZNAw8dMPIh4H7cdzsoYDz2ct3-J2Vnp79UDvfx6Dm0Y/s640/Vietnam-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jungle city.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI5FBl7QWKvp6021V6rNHY5Jz6czy7gm64cH3c92XJLLV_0dmMvqDVd5KO10T2m5I7c4OHL-0Qo5uoY1FJMC4MuS80fEe5d58hSJupKxIvAMw1OkthlAFEqUe2lDVzRp-Y9qZvU8jfTU/s1600/Vietnam-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI5FBl7QWKvp6021V6rNHY5Jz6czy7gm64cH3c92XJLLV_0dmMvqDVd5KO10T2m5I7c4OHL-0Qo5uoY1FJMC4MuS80fEe5d58hSJupKxIvAMw1OkthlAFEqUe2lDVzRp-Y9qZvU8jfTU/s640/Vietnam-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bikes and pedestrians share the road. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqVWHDZdmljS7dna5RDcddRnm3bJVYLwKn7YlEBJykCUYj18gfRCY6JwtSqqULl2gEHt7c9KEpvjBFxwasLSw8sCEvVib0PxtoKlSNsEpcpZT6yIBpeBElSqC6AgnvMdbMRQHAWfnLuI/s1600/Vietnam-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqVWHDZdmljS7dna5RDcddRnm3bJVYLwKn7YlEBJykCUYj18gfRCY6JwtSqqULl2gEHt7c9KEpvjBFxwasLSw8sCEvVib0PxtoKlSNsEpcpZT6yIBpeBElSqC6AgnvMdbMRQHAWfnLuI/s640/Vietnam-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the road. Just walk, they'll go around you.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFH-zBeyvRelW8ysfBmwlFXBr7BolrWRpbd8VbHPL0m20Qg3HeE2aQSISMLFrLftckgnb99upEY8qBUuiPyNYxU8sPyk34xZvIz2h1GTCtI9YBUC28qCHI4PExsooXxU_ZXrCa9EJna4/s1600/Vietnam-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFH-zBeyvRelW8ysfBmwlFXBr7BolrWRpbd8VbHPL0m20Qg3HeE2aQSISMLFrLftckgnb99upEY8qBUuiPyNYxU8sPyk34xZvIz2h1GTCtI9YBUC28qCHI4PExsooXxU_ZXrCa9EJna4/s640/Vietnam-18.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cables like vines in the canopy.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnkc5XFkTOOvcRRlOi6G-wgqgB2bwDbHt6BKdNeP86gU8RNxrLOjyseNMbXRmD8eU35r9jVacDsC6hTPEe49hKFDxec2bOENmhtcGC_pxgbOqk9iuhCWF1Y88PjcLEceWzgZaFloqf38/s1600/Vietnam-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnkc5XFkTOOvcRRlOi6G-wgqgB2bwDbHt6BKdNeP86gU8RNxrLOjyseNMbXRmD8eU35r9jVacDsC6hTPEe49hKFDxec2bOENmhtcGC_pxgbOqk9iuhCWF1Y88PjcLEceWzgZaFloqf38/s640/Vietnam-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything gets transported by bike.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZseVdLsC_gDCqduHRCQ6L4wDMDv1kxw4Fgu7pRmtCS6a24prtcNoO7U_5-OoMaCpkkU4r-GmDfQSWG-0_RmI2H6AHgK4M_sLz_hs5Uo6zhe8EB0aC7UbjZMpZjUPCkmZICE4eWhMc6Q/s1600/Vietnam-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZseVdLsC_gDCqduHRCQ6L4wDMDv1kxw4Fgu7pRmtCS6a24prtcNoO7U_5-OoMaCpkkU4r-GmDfQSWG-0_RmI2H6AHgK4M_sLz_hs5Uo6zhe8EB0aC7UbjZMpZjUPCkmZICE4eWhMc6Q/s640/Vietnam-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It took me a few days to get used to Hanoi, it's a slight change in pace from China, and a different kind of chaos. One thing that was immediately noticeable, and would take me some time to get used to and accept, was the number of foreigners here. I'd enjoyed often being the only stray in the village, being the novelty for the locals and feeling like I was on a little adventure. Now I was just another tourist. I was a tourist of course in China and elsewhere but I often saw so few others that I wasn't reminded of the fact. It felt like everyone was in Hanoi, and most of them I didn't like. There were lots of middle aged, or early retired people, looking slightly hostile and cautious clutching their money belts and wearing their zip-off gore tex trousers. They would be driven around the city by the bicycle men, and they looked like giant fat babies sat in pushchairs, snapping away on DSLRs with the settings still on auto. The worst people though, by far, were the young. People my age. Eurgh. Just awful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicueBEBUho6pLGRzRCHsAaSKy2Z2pOdQTIKXiKZ4W6ms5SUSufuCuZwc0HGo3ctJeRNiza6DKjU69whJyfjZdgQQzLIS2tC9Tp4FL1oXuxllp90DNd9fcQRo2tKSFb-q80Jdv5z6WG3w0/s1600/Vietnam-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicueBEBUho6pLGRzRCHsAaSKy2Z2pOdQTIKXiKZ4W6ms5SUSufuCuZwc0HGo3ctJeRNiza6DKjU69whJyfjZdgQQzLIS2tC9Tp4FL1oXuxllp90DNd9fcQRo2tKSFb-q80Jdv5z6WG3w0/s640/Vietnam-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bikes, pointy hats and backpackers are the first three things you notice. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That first evening I'd gone out for dinner on the pavement with the guys from Finland I'd met on the train, as I'd bumped into them at lunch when I was out exploring, and arranged to meet up later that day. After eating we went for a beer in the main hostel in town, Hanoi Backpackers. It felt like a bad trip on hallucinogens. The place was heaving with vests and haircuts, girls backpacking with heels and hair straighteners, and the guys dressed by the T4 On the Beach stylists, and although are 'top lads with epic bants and bollock slapping pranks', have fuck all to say. It was Hollyoaks. It was Magaluf. It was detestable. Moronic sound-bytes of conversation were muffled by moronic chart music. It didn't feel like Vietnam, it felt like Cheltenham, and I wanted to punch the Essex twat trying to drag us along on a bar crawl, square in his whitened teeth. A whooping crowd left the bar to go on their bar crawl of watered down luminescent vodka shots; I watched the conga line of cunts disappear into the night. This was one of the biggest culture shocks I've experienced on the road so far. Not Mongolian traditions or Japanese isolation, but my own culture, it was looking in a mirror and seeing a monster reflected.<br />
<br />
I left with the Fins to find somewhere else to have a drink. We hopped around a couple of places drinking 30p beers, I guess you could say we were doing a bar crawl of our own, and we were no different to the mass of backpackers who had so wound me up earlier on the evening. But we were different. I'm not saying we were better. But really, we were. We met some local girls who invited us to join them in a place that was staying open later, and we needed no convincing. The police were shutting bars down, probably to solicit bribes from the bar owners to stay open, and it was a bit of a game of cat and mouse as we waited around the corner for the police to leave before the late night bar reopened and we could continue the night. The bar was in some kind of shack, in some kind of swamp, down on the river. It felt rather Apocalypse Now, but they refused to play any Wagner. We stayed, drinking, dancing and talking until it closed. None of the 'banter brigade' from earlier were there, just a slim handful of foreign faces, and the rest locals, a good mix.<br />
<br />
It had been an interesting first day, I was liking Vietnam, but the numbers of tourists was just going to take some getting used to, I wasn't used to sharing. The rest of my days bleed into one. I went for walks exploring the old town, but I'm not shopping for anything and even cheap shops with bargains in are useless to me. I spent some time hiding away, watching episodes on my laptop, as I eased into Vietnam. I went to the War Museum, which was ok but a bit disappointing. They had some tanks and aircraft outside, but inside I thought was lacking, there wasn't too much information so I barely learnt anything, and what information there was, was amusingly biased. It was all about the 'Vietnamese heroes bravely wiping out the enemy', and a helmet full of bullet holes had the caption 'Evidence of the failure of the French'. Amusing, yes. Informative, not really. Considering how big the war was, I thought they didn't have much. One of the exhibits was a Casio calculator from the 90s, I had the same one for GCSE maths, enthralling stuff. At least mine had interesting tip-ex graffiti.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMNtNUGVrZvSGLsbNzKdgzutbSsEfo646srULpDSSMkxVS3AOBqDpOGify95-QRHrZwU_aWzspoaNwXX_dzojIrFaluuMN_abFvZAQaq_EW1p6xn1A5xgjch9uT10yYE_o8km7JG5Erc/s1600/Vietnam-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMNtNUGVrZvSGLsbNzKdgzutbSsEfo646srULpDSSMkxVS3AOBqDpOGify95-QRHrZwU_aWzspoaNwXX_dzojIrFaluuMN_abFvZAQaq_EW1p6xn1A5xgjch9uT10yYE_o8km7JG5Erc/s640/Vietnam-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical scene.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XqbQ_zgY1_Gnl669k8Tkval7em9LhBJ0_fw-axGpjs8WjShs8UN9mEis7Ia6bpfx3sjew5wYiKdGhnc08FKNHzD0PUqlTclgLQL7qTf_gFSG3y3sunFCDzIEMLNzKCEzxw1QHraQV30/s1600/Vietnam-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XqbQ_zgY1_Gnl669k8Tkval7em9LhBJ0_fw-axGpjs8WjShs8UN9mEis7Ia6bpfx3sjew5wYiKdGhnc08FKNHzD0PUqlTclgLQL7qTf_gFSG3y3sunFCDzIEMLNzKCEzxw1QHraQV30/s640/Vietnam-22.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I recognised this from the Hanoi level on Call of Duty.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV5My7BcGgv01YYZifyhQcm3zOEf_phHfPNnPVtGIJKXwwOBbc0soiYVuisNU2bb7S5ss6tLmUM_Wqg6zXapp23n83WCuVGmPIlh_92psQOYunN5QZYpgWy166_2vl9Tzty9aF8JbaRpA/s1600/Vietnam-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV5My7BcGgv01YYZifyhQcm3zOEf_phHfPNnPVtGIJKXwwOBbc0soiYVuisNU2bb7S5ss6tLmUM_Wqg6zXapp23n83WCuVGmPIlh_92psQOYunN5QZYpgWy166_2vl9Tzty9aF8JbaRpA/s640/Vietnam-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the captured planes on display.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmgnqblQOr0CakUlJ2j-Feg0e086i2BKQAHFFmcyO-rBHZgLdiP6rOO7jAIv39bTQ3PUw1E_NJqbqdTZfTxTJsNNJD47cPr2NiWnx0RXp01Yb2A-jcYFn6PJa8mEKtdrwH7EwTs3-9zo/s1600/Vietnam-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmgnqblQOr0CakUlJ2j-Feg0e086i2BKQAHFFmcyO-rBHZgLdiP6rOO7jAIv39bTQ3PUw1E_NJqbqdTZfTxTJsNNJD47cPr2NiWnx0RXp01Yb2A-jcYFn6PJa8mEKtdrwH7EwTs3-9zo/s640/Vietnam-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sculpture made from wreckage from shot down aircrafts.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirolp8HeYTjYmb1icmC2b0mORWTpg-V983x54v5SgzOcDNkYZZMZHSWSbs3ZXI4EkamMCB81BGcfpY0emj9NHnUy_67wXPiTkm2FKfdikxishedfdKhNHH2JDSea20VrO8by_qwBjhj7s/s1600/Vietnam-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirolp8HeYTjYmb1icmC2b0mORWTpg-V983x54v5SgzOcDNkYZZMZHSWSbs3ZXI4EkamMCB81BGcfpY0emj9NHnUy_67wXPiTkm2FKfdikxishedfdKhNHH2JDSea20VrO8by_qwBjhj7s/s640/Vietnam-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the War Museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXa4N5wJ9Yoo-A5CIm1XhwfL8Odkb9Uob87KMLWloJXhTI-MYied5-ll1LHiOxVvtJn1TkWZUAWocXgUHcixhKoADGFmgiDbis8q6JMZBQEyEp9iAI3HKtiQ4ZXqnkWFBcXdFd9bHO0g/s1600/Vietnam-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXa4N5wJ9Yoo-A5CIm1XhwfL8Odkb9Uob87KMLWloJXhTI-MYied5-ll1LHiOxVvtJn1TkWZUAWocXgUHcixhKoADGFmgiDbis8q6JMZBQEyEp9iAI3HKtiQ4ZXqnkWFBcXdFd9bHO0g/s640/Vietnam-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I wandered down through the government district and went by Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, I'm not sure if you can go in, but you couldn't when I was there. I sat and had a rest when I was approached by some young looking university students, who said they were learning English and could I be their homework. I was mindful of scams but agreed to it, and they filmed me on their phones being interviewed by them about topics such as healthy eating and kids playing video games. It entertained me for 15 minutes.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4unEZ_caKV4KJHn-KkS4Fv8eL5lw2-cy9uJ679rIiQAzQOsnyWbk_l8CeAByaEtMcjJ-fB7qOauEv6twCvO4cwqKDI5K6hMGGhhh8IlGH9qT4k82unI7yns6-kEXNmjWARJLyA10Hi0M/s1600/Vietnam-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4unEZ_caKV4KJHn-KkS4Fv8eL5lw2-cy9uJ679rIiQAzQOsnyWbk_l8CeAByaEtMcjJ-fB7qOauEv6twCvO4cwqKDI5K6hMGGhhh8IlGH9qT4k82unI7yns6-kEXNmjWARJLyA10Hi0M/s640/Vietnam-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quieter government district. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi139iZ2pa6tWd49pCFImlXQNzNJp-X5dv_8odDselsgaIe8Ud05eF4HkFg02DfziGXFW311Qyzrabnm2VXfTiNseeKnHmYeVToBCqp4ol14iObfG4WRI-Djz79K-VsqQVksaNWL5B_ygU/s1600/Vietnam-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi139iZ2pa6tWd49pCFImlXQNzNJp-X5dv_8odDselsgaIe8Ud05eF4HkFg02DfziGXFW311Qyzrabnm2VXfTiNseeKnHmYeVToBCqp4ol14iObfG4WRI-Djz79K-VsqQVksaNWL5B_ygU/s640/Vietnam-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ho Chi Minh mausoleum. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCFzpUKkxfxsEIPDy6lyMUErGrHNmfiqxYxI4PVczuZDodk9crgmc3RplFTRTpgSlvA3Jew8AV6unbmhmwoyBqryJnwJrneZ17VPvhhCBN7Ch5wJx_-qMLMMvWHFHINJEQwBs7T2fnYg/s1600/Vietnam-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCFzpUKkxfxsEIPDy6lyMUErGrHNmfiqxYxI4PVczuZDodk9crgmc3RplFTRTpgSlvA3Jew8AV6unbmhmwoyBqryJnwJrneZ17VPvhhCBN7Ch5wJx_-qMLMMvWHFHINJEQwBs7T2fnYg/s640/Vietnam-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a train running through the neighbourhood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNiJvdQB-pZb2q9iG59w7wmMRy6iAYTFtmEVEHZzHMBRx8ABlVRPxMFNj73a7Wukfl92FwOoA2xPbdlcf392bsdWfnq3yEV4mAobSEvqgwVqllmrkwzQoaa9eT0BxvRoTMkKuWSqEwu8/s1600/Vietnam-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNiJvdQB-pZb2q9iG59w7wmMRy6iAYTFtmEVEHZzHMBRx8ABlVRPxMFNj73a7Wukfl92FwOoA2xPbdlcf392bsdWfnq3yEV4mAobSEvqgwVqllmrkwzQoaa9eT0BxvRoTMkKuWSqEwu8/s640/Vietnam-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mildly arousing mannequin shop.</td></tr>
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I wasn't sure what else there was to do in Hanoi, there were a couple of museums but they didn't sound appealing, so I didn't end up doing too much of substance. I wanted to extend my pre-booked three night stay in the hostel by a night, but they were fully booked and so put me in their sister hostel around the corner and told me I could settle my bill there. I ended up in a plush four bed room for the same price of $6. When I came to check out the next day, I mentioned I'd been transferred from their other place and owed three nights there, but the guy clearly didn't hear me, so I had three nights bed, breakfast and drinks for free.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across the rooftops of Hanoi. </td></tr>
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In my second room in Hanoi I met Lars, a German one month into his year long travels, having left his job as a camera salesman in Germany. We got on well and decided to travel to Cat Ba island together, next to Halong Bay, and although he only had a two week visa, it seemed our plans, or lack of them were similar and we may end up travelling through the country a bit together.<br />
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-15047528458402391712012-12-07T22:19:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.205-08:00Leaving China.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just as China rushes, I rushed out of China. After hitch-hiking to Lijiang with my Tiger Leaping companions, I had 24 hours in the city to rest my weary legs and organise my journey into Vietnam. I bought my train tickets, I'd be doing back-to-back trains for 30 hours, firstly to Kunming, a few hours wait there and then another half day to Nanning, where I'd be able to get a ticket to Hanoi. </div>
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Lijiang has a beautiful, quaint and picturesque old town, with cobbled streets, stone bridges spanning clean open waterways, and old-style Chinese architecture. It's a tourist mecca however, and nothing about it felt genuine, it may as well have been a part of Disneyland. I had to navigate across this vast area of shops and cafes to find the ticket booking office, located in what I now find more traditional Chinese; busy boulevards, scruffy pavements and nondescript commercial property, with none of the charm of the old town, but the modern town was probably older than the so-called 'old town'. Finding my way through the cobbled streets was difficult. I barely saw a road name or street sign, and the layout was a warren of shops I had little interest in. I cynically thought that the lack of signs was a ploy by the town planners to keep tourists lost and spend unnecessary time amongst the shops. I eventually emerged the other side of the maze and got my tickets. The rest of the afternoon I spent relaxing in the hostel and writing the previous blog, before my train left in the evening.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lijiang old own.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A more traditional Naxi woman walks through the town filled with Chinese tourists.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet courtyards and old style architecture. </td></tr>
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I wandered to the bus stop in plenty of time to catch my train. I waited for nearly 30 minutes and no bus came. I was aware of some Chinese around me with luggage who were also waiting for a bus that wasn't coming, so I grouped together with them and we shared a taxi to the modern and clean station. In the station I met Tom, a guy from Suffolk I'd met in the Tiger Leaping Gorge two days previously, so we had a beer and took the same train to Kunming. My carriage was a double decker, the first time I had been on one and it was quite impressive, and I found I had a soft sleeper when I thought my ticket was for a hard sleeper. I slept all the way to Kunming, and arrived when the sky was murky blue as the first light of day was just over the horizon. Tom and I had a couple of hours until our connecting trains, though we were going to different places, so we took breakfast in a Chinese fast food restaurant, and then idled away the time in the for once quiet departure lounge. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn in Kunming departure lounge.</td></tr>
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I slept for much of the train to Nanning, there's little else to do on these trains but doze and be rocked to a lower level of consciousness, where thoughts can form more freely and take on a direction of their choosing. I'd enjoyed travelling around China by railway, apart from one journey they'd all been comfortable, fairly relaxing and sometimes a nice way to meet local people. I arrived in my final Chinese city at midnight, and had booked a hostel five minutes walk from the station and one that was easy to find by foot. I settled in and stayed up late online, not feeling tired having snoozed for most of the day and night before. </div>
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The next morning I met Petra, a girl from Prague who had no experience of China, so she came with me to buy a train ticket and a walk around town. Petra was a classical pianist, and was heading to Beijing to take the Trans-Mongolian railway home. She found China cold at around 16C, Siberia is currently -40C, so it was about to get a whole load worse for her. We had some lunch in a restaurant and an explore of the city, it didn't seem any different from any other Chinese mega-city, the same scruffy commercialism and endless flow of people. I did notice I was being looked at more in Nanning though, not many travellers come here and so I assume we were more of a novelty than in other places.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nanning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street crossing in Nanning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Chinese men playing mahjong, which involves pieces similar to dominoes or rummikub. </td></tr>
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After exploring the neighbourhood, which was fun and interesting as always, but at the same time offering nothing spectacular, we returned to the hostel to wifi to our hearts content. I had a couple of hours to pass before heading to the train station to take the six o'clock to Hanoi.<br />
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In the waiting room I didn't spot any other foreigners taking the train, and I was expecting some as quite a few people enter Vietnam this way from China. After boarding the train I met a foreigner to talk to in the smoking bit between the carriages; Ilkka. Somehow I'd failed to spot three guys from Finland in the departure lounge, but maybe they'd been hiding under their hoods. I was taking a hard sleeper, and sharing my compartment with some social Chinese, including Carrie, who was from Shanghai and spoke pretty good English, as she worked for the British Arcadia Group. We had to get off the train at both sides of the border, about an hour apart, for the usual passport and customs checks and it was as straightforward as it could be. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down from my top bunk, my last train in China.</td></tr>
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The train arrived in Hanoi at a pre dawn hour, perhaps 5am. The streets were asleep and the sky showed no sign of day, but the stillness in the air indicated it wasn't far away. I took the bus with the Chinese from my carriage into the city centre, and not having any small Vietnamese notes from the ATM I visited, Carrie paid my bus fare, which may have been 15pence or so. We got off by the lake in the old quarter, the blue-grey dawn made it look like the city was underwater; the area was busy with people exercising or getting ready for the day and I set about finding my hostel.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking the local bus in Hanoi.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556880846987615701.post-50648555876442663692012-11-22T02:15:00.001-08:002013-11-10T07:11:29.247-08:00Tiger Leaping Gorge-ous<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As Akke and I were waiting to leave Dali, we were joined by another backpacker, Otto from Finland so our group was three once more. We took the bus about 4 hours to Lijiang, and when we arrived we grabbed our bags from the luggage hold and they were wet and stinking of river fish. A polystyrene container, obviously transporting live fish, had slopped some of its contents and the padded straps of our bags soaked up the stinking liquid. We boarded another bus which was heading to a village called Qiaotou (pronounced a bit like 'chateaux'), and two hours later we arrived. We checked into Jane's Hostel, which is at the start of the Tiger Leaping Gorge trek. Before nightfall we decided to go for a little explore of the dusty village, and again the smell of cannabis wafted down from the hillsides. We started hiking up a hillside with the hope of reaching a temple looking place we had seen from the valley floor. Dusk descended as we were halfway up in the woods, having already crossed a few little farmsteads, and so decided to head back down to town as it would've been too difficult in the dark. That evening we shivered in the hostel, and chatted to a group of French girls as the night drew on. Beautiful dark haired French girls seemed to be my new weakness. I'd met two in as many days, both by chance called Camille, with sunshine eyes and heartache smiles; and both commanded my desires. I was reminded of a Jack Kerouac quote from On the Road; 'a pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved going the opposite direction in this too-big world'. Lusting aside, before bed I wandered out into the chilly black street to take a photograph of the stars as the skies were clear and the light pollution low. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terraced farming on the way out from Lijiang.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlFjgyWqRfXvnWIlIZUndGEiJB5JRYx93qB-DwYajxUd0V8j9VetlpmC_jEr9sVeB5lsKKrsQKceEXelFBX0m4-rgY_M3udcPbF40N3DiZWFSV-gihzkgpiYg4YOZNhNoDCoRhe0IffQ/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlFjgyWqRfXvnWIlIZUndGEiJB5JRYx93qB-DwYajxUd0V8j9VetlpmC_jEr9sVeB5lsKKrsQKceEXelFBX0m4-rgY_M3udcPbF40N3DiZWFSV-gihzkgpiYg4YOZNhNoDCoRhe0IffQ/s640/Tiger+Gorge-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down onto Qiaotou at dusk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvHIw0e5hmPymoOZA3PcPEUApxzgsxubsZ5vu1hDHiEJgw1TyjjbQN8hm0XFtXXmXTENv5T7J3d_M6c-_UQ6h6zterug7zLTdmIVzdtHqZ5EOUlFvh8KI1o5Q5Ot_FVkqTyTmZ6KUl3Q/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvHIw0e5hmPymoOZA3PcPEUApxzgsxubsZ5vu1hDHiEJgw1TyjjbQN8hm0XFtXXmXTENv5T7J3d_M6c-_UQ6h6zterug7zLTdmIVzdtHqZ5EOUlFvh8KI1o5Q5Ot_FVkqTyTmZ6KUl3Q/s640/Tiger+Gorge-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stars over the midnight road - outside the hostel before bed.</td></tr>
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After breakfast the next morning we left our main luggage in storage at the hostel and the three of us started the trek. We followed the road up the mountain until it became a dusty track. The banks along the side of the route were covered in funnel web spiders, their threads like hammocks and beefy looking spiders spied us from their tunnels. Looking back down into the valley we were rewarded with beautiful views, the morning sun softly lit the Jinsha River valley and a light haze clung to the water. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklhhopt4_JB0_TiBX4391pLJ7tVOBq_rzrJGCXbWGL5YtugdGf8GmM7isfQS6oRLZhejja_snt-OupdRQeA8yV15vuv8OMPkhERJdGTZ0w5vApJi0x_QRmaSd9mROxHgEWpS2k6wrPJk/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklhhopt4_JB0_TiBX4391pLJ7tVOBq_rzrJGCXbWGL5YtugdGf8GmM7isfQS6oRLZhejja_snt-OupdRQeA8yV15vuv8OMPkhERJdGTZ0w5vApJi0x_QRmaSd9mROxHgEWpS2k6wrPJk/s640/Tiger+Gorge-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tough looking mountain spiders hiding in their silken tunnel. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzjJSDPAdrH34nDvUo37WufcaoCr2Kgvmt-a0OHTgT7fipHHovM-ljBrHFfzLlqUQtkvTpOygfSXSjpmjHnkBOe2JZpLg8rxA3JIc_U_dgi43GQWv0xasQoc33Bl98zNLZyX2qibWFhg/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzjJSDPAdrH34nDvUo37WufcaoCr2Kgvmt-a0OHTgT7fipHHovM-ljBrHFfzLlqUQtkvTpOygfSXSjpmjHnkBOe2JZpLg8rxA3JIc_U_dgi43GQWv0xasQoc33Bl98zNLZyX2qibWFhg/s640/Tiger+Gorge-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back over rice terraces towards Qiaotou, a morning haze hangs in the valley. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xyncuwav9VxgXERQCXcLC-9_HnFi9KxH3r_oC9ToXJeyNgorfkH5dVjBgF3h1374JUYoq75gTyQZHKEDSJ2kET0pO6qDcUSL0Sgfh8H84AKUmqCv-mN4K1kKxJzPHoyXcTb9nlbxa4k/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xyncuwav9VxgXERQCXcLC-9_HnFi9KxH3r_oC9ToXJeyNgorfkH5dVjBgF3h1374JUYoq75gTyQZHKEDSJ2kET0pO6qDcUSL0Sgfh8H84AKUmqCv-mN4K1kKxJzPHoyXcTb9nlbxa4k/s640/Tiger+Gorge-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rice terraces in the Jinsha River valley.</td></tr>
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We hiked through hamlets, across rice terraces, along dusty trails and rocky paths; we ached up the 28 bends, glided through a sea of bamboo and scurried under sighing pines. The 28 bends was the most arduous part of a thigh straining climb. The incline was steep and the sun was strong, dust kicked up from our heels and caked our dry mouths. We stopped for tea in a guest house along the way, before continuing along a path which was easier, for most of the days ascent was over. We ran into another group, themselves a collection of solo travellers, apart from one couple, a Kiwi and another Fin, who had cycled to China from Ankara in Turkey. The last hour or so we walked and chatted together, before arriving at our destination for the night, the Halfway Hostel. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmPfbNG5vOtgBtyEwlz4t7QaXPvs0j3DdtW5hRN7C5IY9NcN0_-_uf97EbNe1J468L-7wdY9figvubvc9kAVRypBCWSNEnSKxmV-J32QCDvOMQjgz35G-taPAMUMytB6XNSvs45YUviA/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmPfbNG5vOtgBtyEwlz4t7QaXPvs0j3DdtW5hRN7C5IY9NcN0_-_uf97EbNe1J468L-7wdY9figvubvc9kAVRypBCWSNEnSKxmV-J32QCDvOMQjgz35G-taPAMUMytB6XNSvs45YUviA/s640/Tiger+Gorge-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmsteads along the way.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjO88iiXWk8l0L-2WjVq6_qwE887rYwilMngIYhNMIOIxIBlaVm3WA_FY2um4JJPNhiyCvNy3FkDQw3-6lWkKx03gVkSv2-6_pRIOiEUjNjwRD0xeZe6pRSio7hHsTORyXp0tIjLJFZZI/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjO88iiXWk8l0L-2WjVq6_qwE887rYwilMngIYhNMIOIxIBlaVm3WA_FY2um4JJPNhiyCvNy3FkDQw3-6lWkKx03gVkSv2-6_pRIOiEUjNjwRD0xeZe6pRSio7hHsTORyXp0tIjLJFZZI/s640/Tiger+Gorge-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local farmers, the indigenous Naxi people of the area. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQsd3goJA5zIELxUQiBNLNl1H583Endxjai6-DrF-haWjtMNvX0AYXylFoHzq1i-2CopoPliQfwXRNt1J0QA4_3ddZaJdUorKQ3LQAXLOxU4EBnbxnpji-7EqhGnc9j2DECw0xdAhczo/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQsd3goJA5zIELxUQiBNLNl1H583Endxjai6-DrF-haWjtMNvX0AYXylFoHzq1i-2CopoPliQfwXRNt1J0QA4_3ddZaJdUorKQ3LQAXLOxU4EBnbxnpji-7EqhGnc9j2DECw0xdAhczo/s640/Tiger+Gorge-31.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Tk-c41eDOqRV7odbjPhflqF68-p782fJbt25118PJBvsm6NZqlmM7iP2ni0BEHTRm2jtRkoxS9qwJM28lIUAA8IfKuq1b6IRSRRmB9bnkcHOstPBrDrnj0EB6SyzOpyOofbvJc1JvN0/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Tk-c41eDOqRV7odbjPhflqF68-p782fJbt25118PJBvsm6NZqlmM7iP2ni0BEHTRm2jtRkoxS9qwJM28lIUAA8IfKuq1b6IRSRRmB9bnkcHOstPBrDrnj0EB6SyzOpyOofbvJc1JvN0/s640/Tiger+Gorge-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drying maize in a guest house along the way.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt__t4j9IhR8UfgReayXgVXgio0domRoDIQNiewZNG3qS5y83xWaocba1lwnszID78NblswMJc383niwHsnArapWQbtQOSWb0n28ga5k6E68-sAV7LP0jq_qvly5zUdMKrzPtSe0D3MBI/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt__t4j9IhR8UfgReayXgVXgio0domRoDIQNiewZNG3qS5y83xWaocba1lwnszID78NblswMJc383niwHsnArapWQbtQOSWb0n28ga5k6E68-sAV7LP0jq_qvly5zUdMKrzPtSe0D3MBI/s640/Tiger+Gorge-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cannabis for sale. I asked how much, she started at £10 then dropped to £3, but you can find it for free anyway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlyjLTWMPeId_tkG13PYCogbpIiWr8TjCIVHHeYUxJePqOf1LXwHPPC7_xatEgrvYKRO2klmtc1c4NCVjxf6tyELd6fk-2oVUnf1iiX_vaClCN-yDbJM_SHNnz5B57DsrXZ0aOAIUlhw/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlyjLTWMPeId_tkG13PYCogbpIiWr8TjCIVHHeYUxJePqOf1LXwHPPC7_xatEgrvYKRO2klmtc1c4NCVjxf6tyELd6fk-2oVUnf1iiX_vaClCN-yDbJM_SHNnz5B57DsrXZ0aOAIUlhw/s640/Tiger+Gorge-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself, Akke and Otto take a break from hiking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_6qk2dEVKcLJoYrYN8UJiLQVs8WPK4dVO9PJjxnwB11jDIXgAB1D0GAXWhj1qYeKj8ZA_l2AQUa9c318dA1Zq73p5WGFB8GaVsVExuKRLKfnSJvvdugxbe836FHnpwwrJZ24LHoSzUk/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_6qk2dEVKcLJoYrYN8UJiLQVs8WPK4dVO9PJjxnwB11jDIXgAB1D0GAXWhj1qYeKj8ZA_l2AQUa9c318dA1Zq73p5WGFB8GaVsVExuKRLKfnSJvvdugxbe836FHnpwwrJZ24LHoSzUk/s640/Tiger+Gorge-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountains on the other side of the gorge. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2z7Y6Yl-XLVWBPP_givhE7_arZRkqnVK9smM76rczKWUVYtqR64SMYh-ZloVYGSV_UpUAahi5IhkbMJ9dXCMKeGRz_ahQ5KPP1DAR5Rfm_Y5zcaEIBCpHB0T2pRq4DbZUlTR-0D9ttg/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2z7Y6Yl-XLVWBPP_givhE7_arZRkqnVK9smM76rczKWUVYtqR64SMYh-ZloVYGSV_UpUAahi5IhkbMJ9dXCMKeGRz_ahQ5KPP1DAR5Rfm_Y5zcaEIBCpHB0T2pRq4DbZUlTR-0D9ttg/s640/Tiger+Gorge-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down the valley.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0qSRfdDM-BISuHiTDF9K7Ji_SYEKUft7DJ8VrCL5RZCXvqEIARmc89Wk1FpwmLxqxIFYfmhf8EPY-jZuxNuzf59bWDcRcICdAL1YMkXARe86mGaYLG1hXKzjPr77AdVl370oRZHQ4mo/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0qSRfdDM-BISuHiTDF9K7Ji_SYEKUft7DJ8VrCL5RZCXvqEIARmc89Wk1FpwmLxqxIFYfmhf8EPY-jZuxNuzf59bWDcRcICdAL1YMkXARe86mGaYLG1hXKzjPr77AdVl370oRZHQ4mo/s640/Tiger+Gorge-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I accidentally trod on this creature, but it seemed to be fine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9J3zHeeCtoM1ypv1wisVMG87ZJjP29mr8lnGBE07wI8a5QOdvD2jOd-S18lw6ltb9RtHi_j1E0r0krn28NvTE6-MFLQg6xURyUiKwtWGOcyx7xle9uVbB9w4wj1cuKb5D08EsK4Xk53w/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9J3zHeeCtoM1ypv1wisVMG87ZJjP29mr8lnGBE07wI8a5QOdvD2jOd-S18lw6ltb9RtHi_j1E0r0krn28NvTE6-MFLQg6xURyUiKwtWGOcyx7xle9uVbB9w4wj1cuKb5D08EsK4Xk53w/s640/Tiger+Gorge-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare glimpse down the gorge into the roaring water below.</td></tr>
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The Halfway Hostel was a picturesque and quaint place, that was fairly priced considering they could charge whatever they liked. As soon as we arrived we took a beer on the rickety terrace overlooking the jagged mountains opposite. We sat out chatting as the sun slowly set and cast a performance of shadows over the battered rock face of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. The temperature dropped and we took the conversation inside, and the couple who had cycled from Turkey bore the brunt of the questioning and story-telling. We were a mix of two English, two French, two Dutch, two Finnish and a New Zealander. After a while the three native English speakers congregated together and traded in-jokes, and everyone else, who's English was damn near perfect, chatted amongst themselves. Later that evening I went to the top terrace to take some more star pictures, and rested my camera on the bannister as I had no space to bring a tripod. A few seconds into my second frame, a gust of wind somehow knocked the camera off the railing, it bounced on the wooden terrace and dropped 60 odd feet off the edge onto the hard ground below. Fuck. I was naturally concerned, but didn't shit myself. It sounded like it hit the ground with a solid thud, than a pant-crapping smash, so I fetched my torch and looked for a way to descend the mountain side to retrieve my camera. Somehow, and testament to Nikon, the camera was rescued unscathed, with just the smallest of cracks in the back screen protector. I did a quick test of the functions and everything seemed to be working fine. I got away with it. Next time I'll loop the camera through the strap over the railing. Lesson learned. I rejoined the group inside who had heard a thud and wondered what it was. We were all tired and before long most had gone to bed. I decided to take another couple of star pictures, that's what second chances are for. Before I could go to bed I was invited to join three middle aged Korean hikers, who were in high spirits from having sat there drinking all evening. They couldn't speak hardly any English, but they warmed to me with my three Korean words I could remember, and listing all the places I had been in Korea, just a month earlier. They were very generous and wouldn't let me leave until we had finished all their beers on the table, and somehow I was the last one in the hostel to go to bed.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_81edayW5ZyLJ_IFfvDVJUVzKk2hUq3PnHLauDD_EOWhcH8zSZ2E6B0l7CZbEr8f6jgVLMHYvj9gtEn4fI3rRM6Sp27KAyWNiIewnbyok3ME2KPIrNqUnfTqsWCxBZbAQb0aC0V-H8A/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_81edayW5ZyLJ_IFfvDVJUVzKk2hUq3PnHLauDD_EOWhcH8zSZ2E6B0l7CZbEr8f6jgVLMHYvj9gtEn4fI3rRM6Sp27KAyWNiIewnbyok3ME2KPIrNqUnfTqsWCxBZbAQb0aC0V-H8A/s640/Tiger+Gorge-40.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halfway hostel in late afternoon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKMtTmDVWcfoLjNevcpL_ipPHN70r6vdKIQUK23ulauRHIGZuX6TYxAQe7Hf66vqyZWdHeplmGoFmeVcTAB3H2yPMSaRApJmU9QKIy99uBrTXGh30tdW-W_A287DGIShixMVljGgyM4s/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKMtTmDVWcfoLjNevcpL_ipPHN70r6vdKIQUK23ulauRHIGZuX6TYxAQe7Hf66vqyZWdHeplmGoFmeVcTAB3H2yPMSaRApJmU9QKIy99uBrTXGh30tdW-W_A287DGIShixMVljGgyM4s/s640/Tiger+Gorge-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views of the mountains opposite.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86XgaKnDDxWjH1KIg4K-fUZItD1JNNGj7VO4Ns_KFsV18WurDiH0pb0nMJb0-Vnc6LakiEAfzArWlshs3NNmvaNiGeuUjaCE0Qv4NNpJLtzbfOrQKA_qisLo3zi7B2JP0wZijKmg-iEc/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86XgaKnDDxWjH1KIg4K-fUZItD1JNNGj7VO4Ns_KFsV18WurDiH0pb0nMJb0-Vnc6LakiEAfzArWlshs3NNmvaNiGeuUjaCE0Qv4NNpJLtzbfOrQKA_qisLo3zi7B2JP0wZijKmg-iEc/s640/Tiger+Gorge-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clouds roll over the mountain tops.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGq-fT_NsGgyyeXl0F0qYxr477U556r0gERj_Cj33WYPjtDu8stpoj-pMC5Ee1Ykzmm-L7bRbb1LGUDZgJe_or0kVYvsHFANa9PFoVWY4VgHWLw_mCECEvXGeCiZ-GEBW8fWkn7fBfCrI/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGq-fT_NsGgyyeXl0F0qYxr477U556r0gERj_Cj33WYPjtDu8stpoj-pMC5Ee1Ykzmm-L7bRbb1LGUDZgJe_or0kVYvsHFANa9PFoVWY4VgHWLw_mCECEvXGeCiZ-GEBW8fWkn7fBfCrI/s640/Tiger+Gorge-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRMqeVQE6e2tY19fxSYYkccVZUthIQjuJLovYPNn5pfg4sC6OyoipuPz9P_ltJ46zhgAPrHqC67FKrxAJW1L20alpliZlhwRftBPN9j0MAy0X7nZs8WftgmqXIA7vt9GWfNp6gSBZ-Kk/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRMqeVQE6e2tY19fxSYYkccVZUthIQjuJLovYPNn5pfg4sC6OyoipuPz9P_ltJ46zhgAPrHqC67FKrxAJW1L20alpliZlhwRftBPN9j0MAy0X7nZs8WftgmqXIA7vt9GWfNp6gSBZ-Kk/s640/Tiger+Gorge-39.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7B5IkOu5zEgx2JLgu-0jIIK4MkMKAkMMObkyXEhHiamQi24-ehv6pVyPcYARu2RzAQ8VQV8EKHGKJSTznY9_AJEtSCDOQqf6GOhwfv4v9-IVXVCrtYNEUyPQzlqBxxXNUdl4Dzlrp14/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7B5IkOu5zEgx2JLgu-0jIIK4MkMKAkMMObkyXEhHiamQi24-ehv6pVyPcYARu2RzAQ8VQV8EKHGKJSTznY9_AJEtSCDOQqf6GOhwfv4v9-IVXVCrtYNEUyPQzlqBxxXNUdl4Dzlrp14/s640/Tiger+Gorge-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dramatic light and distant snow on Haba Snow Mountain.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYf55PTux1vj0jTS0AnNwTW-TQXQ4J19wI2r6Bv7BOBWQRextd5u0uFlzf3oP5JIDBsoXOWd6H2AQRKVS7CO6MNwwXM3Q3Wu65N_yvAkCX0vfUSoZh6BYKFodAq28v-OF-4RcuYfmgkl8/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYf55PTux1vj0jTS0AnNwTW-TQXQ4J19wI2r6Bv7BOBWQRextd5u0uFlzf3oP5JIDBsoXOWd6H2AQRKVS7CO6MNwwXM3Q3Wu65N_yvAkCX0vfUSoZh6BYKFodAq28v-OF-4RcuYfmgkl8/s640/Tiger+Gorge-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first frame of the stars over Tiger Leaping Gorge.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzhe2XeNdBPPgVr8pQxGs-5FevuJUnpCsPTscXzLHIP_GchPY4of9KScWMGI3_UiK7pHnRe4KeocDx4eE_1yKrfkKBnrBH-xKP8-QnI317cQlLi_-l2mNxkIcV24vEVyA4Jw-OJ5aH7I/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzhe2XeNdBPPgVr8pQxGs-5FevuJUnpCsPTscXzLHIP_GchPY4of9KScWMGI3_UiK7pHnRe4KeocDx4eE_1yKrfkKBnrBH-xKP8-QnI317cQlLi_-l2mNxkIcV24vEVyA4Jw-OJ5aH7I/s640/Tiger+Gorge-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falling frame, a few moments into the 30 second exposure my camera took a plummet.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlDKDaVF8mSEvdkhWKlZUpuPhg3sxmN4vXU_PFkJSQgIvO42m_aHKALClH0IfYj8vT0pfCjt7DdnWCV5DhMkve7OZM7cKZLo-o0nFnMm01aTF6M0Q7VJ8bETlSqVJnsfa4SHEKroVHxw/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlDKDaVF8mSEvdkhWKlZUpuPhg3sxmN4vXU_PFkJSQgIvO42m_aHKALClH0IfYj8vT0pfCjt7DdnWCV5DhMkve7OZM7cKZLo-o0nFnMm01aTF6M0Q7VJ8bETlSqVJnsfa4SHEKroVHxw/s640/Tiger+Gorge-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second chance: I think that's Venus over the valley.</td></tr>
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The following morning the air felt warm, and we were in no rush as we had breakfast. We only had a two hour hike ahead to the road where we could take a ride back to the village we had started at. We walked with the group from the night before, though we were divided by segments of slightly differing pace. There was no real climbing to be done on this part of the hike, most of it was flat and downhill which was most welcome after yesterday's leg strain. We crossed a number of waterfalls, and followed dusty paths which hugged rock escarpments on the mountain side. As we descended we could hear the roar of the river as it rushed over rapid below. We soon made it to the road and Tina's Guest House, where we stopped for lunch and refreshments, before deciding to descend the gorge to the river below.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-ICHjrBKtQrnhvWDcYMLTW_ZyCWpK7PES3VR94LWi_ZyifRiZHujS1L0GrBy499iLgACiUbzmI3omO7BjATYsCQ0Qp_S8wRfFWls17bcMITxI9r2xFIRCGgtx8BnzqPevryvrE0WLXE/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-ICHjrBKtQrnhvWDcYMLTW_ZyCWpK7PES3VR94LWi_ZyifRiZHujS1L0GrBy499iLgACiUbzmI3omO7BjATYsCQ0Qp_S8wRfFWls17bcMITxI9r2xFIRCGgtx8BnzqPevryvrE0WLXE/s640/Tiger+Gorge-41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning sun at breakfast.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2wPJ3Fc3_UHFrVIadn2cdIiRUYbf0vnk8pVjTwhhLfcTS4-5eaHOc0iGBsp-jGs0L5AIdAogx4MXHLBTFkyCKUAT3LKNAgd2jTvlC5T1PWFIWbRxpMpWbAOt87xzlsQ_-iaVgmzYD9-0/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2wPJ3Fc3_UHFrVIadn2cdIiRUYbf0vnk8pVjTwhhLfcTS4-5eaHOc0iGBsp-jGs0L5AIdAogx4MXHLBTFkyCKUAT3LKNAgd2jTvlC5T1PWFIWbRxpMpWbAOt87xzlsQ_-iaVgmzYD9-0/s640/Tiger+Gorge-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otto crossing a log bridge.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2Z27ETMGBwEB2qUR9da_XPU-Qvw0gGMxDkzMXBYKDpHbTpCBXUdioO80w82BdCmh5Tbnv1Iz1cH8bAhNugdLeV36leuk5vaXSKZ2diCj6M4wn_96JFyeXNW6bGwYyq8uEgKBDufJlJk/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2Z27ETMGBwEB2qUR9da_XPU-Qvw0gGMxDkzMXBYKDpHbTpCBXUdioO80w82BdCmh5Tbnv1Iz1cH8bAhNugdLeV36leuk5vaXSKZ2diCj6M4wn_96JFyeXNW6bGwYyq8uEgKBDufJlJk/s640/Tiger+Gorge-35.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the group ahead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FNVTe9WYPwTOmvzYJHoKBW-oAQlTuklxcTUyBzPp1TblNyZIhPAbX5H7Sgkm_i-tLC5rRH0fvylmD0KlpN6e20wUdVEXSfFT-yeHR2EcBiK4dt69Nm8uj-dgnQGn8-ji3Pnc8ASj7R8/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FNVTe9WYPwTOmvzYJHoKBW-oAQlTuklxcTUyBzPp1TblNyZIhPAbX5H7Sgkm_i-tLC5rRH0fvylmD0KlpN6e20wUdVEXSfFT-yeHR2EcBiK4dt69Nm8uj-dgnQGn8-ji3Pnc8ASj7R8/s640/Tiger+Gorge-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paths cling to the mountainside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupTH2Yg0kCJU740-q9Uoxv7EJEq6gWOjZcqLNpl49qNsoFceAhz7NrLmBydysvfWeovynVzHu7JsgPNCZcwj2BS70CF68qb7UclnfQfdyLasKfpts8-GkjEO7baP92kcwfiPwPD1ylxE/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupTH2Yg0kCJU740-q9Uoxv7EJEq6gWOjZcqLNpl49qNsoFceAhz7NrLmBydysvfWeovynVzHu7JsgPNCZcwj2BS70CF68qb7UclnfQfdyLasKfpts8-GkjEO7baP92kcwfiPwPD1ylxE/s640/Tiger+Gorge-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MAkuwmXoEyQZMLGik9M0YWUv1ZCt5f0tCQxsPEbonzek2yQY2cgO1v0Ma6ySeVM-YXezZaRNomTq4aUUSnbymYyC9l5QR8PvMoV2dx0QBk-JVpoNVH__70BtfysrDbMNIZWzTTroZdE/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MAkuwmXoEyQZMLGik9M0YWUv1ZCt5f0tCQxsPEbonzek2yQY2cgO1v0Ma6ySeVM-YXezZaRNomTq4aUUSnbymYyC9l5QR8PvMoV2dx0QBk-JVpoNVH__70BtfysrDbMNIZWzTTroZdE/s640/Tiger+Gorge-38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0S0OzBN-76NUWYabxgmPbbCa7ycvGwBT3GI3wMURQIvKI0P7UilE7lcNQDq20Iiaqax5XVfB2cvjVSboLzS0vApsW_z-mdv0O3WD1jlcB5VJt7-ssZmWNsk-fqG013XfeeMws_o14HU/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0S0OzBN-76NUWYabxgmPbbCa7ycvGwBT3GI3wMURQIvKI0P7UilE7lcNQDq20Iiaqax5XVfB2cvjVSboLzS0vApsW_z-mdv0O3WD1jlcB5VJt7-ssZmWNsk-fqG013XfeeMws_o14HU/s640/Tiger+Gorge-46.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall ahead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10QrCKw9tdIiSTrmUDSNLMpFEYeg6okf3LpyOeXSzRXTpQMIMjO8Th2CFE4q76bIPTD4GoIcLikWmrOnUp7ppzaYByoa12h3AhDzipqcivGB0gtfua7RPL85HYP_2wTb-SP67miy9Nxw/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10QrCKw9tdIiSTrmUDSNLMpFEYeg6okf3LpyOeXSzRXTpQMIMjO8Th2CFE4q76bIPTD4GoIcLikWmrOnUp7ppzaYByoa12h3AhDzipqcivGB0gtfua7RPL85HYP_2wTb-SP67miy9Nxw/s640/Tiger+Gorge-47.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stream crossing.</td></tr>
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The descent into the gorge must've been a vertical kilometre, and it took 30 minutes to reach the bottom. I half ran rather than walked, allowing gravity to do half of the work for me, but my knees took a pounding as I bounced from rock to rock and kicked up dust into the face of the Dutch guy behind me. The way was very steep, loose and uneven, and the path zig-zagged down the valley. If going down was tough, coming up would be hell, I thought. At the bottom I scrambled over huge river boulders to reach the furthest point, out in the middle of the raging torrents. I was the only one on the rock, and no one else was in sight as the others were five minutes behind me. I enjoyed the location and the solitude. Otto and I then crossed an unfinished wooden bridge onto another rock 100 metres downstream, and my legs trembled slightly and the bridge wobbled and swung over the gorge. We could climb down onto this rock in the river to get as close as possible without facing certain death.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8EmYndn7T99o0tqS7kn7YuTz4NqSCzjr47b0OSOIHvfcshPkA8OWlkp1oR0FlY4ZukmeaX8azpG4ruyAd60YIEQO83z5xzsVDp_9j2Jqq-pGnD4a5Ilw5xTa-CFs7D0RA2sna1mATYw/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8EmYndn7T99o0tqS7kn7YuTz4NqSCzjr47b0OSOIHvfcshPkA8OWlkp1oR0FlY4ZukmeaX8azpG4ruyAd60YIEQO83z5xzsVDp_9j2Jqq-pGnD4a5Ilw5xTa-CFs7D0RA2sna1mATYw/s640/Tiger+Gorge-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending into Tiger Leaping Gorge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7awJ0PQBzBdOLz6OAL6CsOFBfGgOwbCXYelZ51K5O-3BlB8jOSyFUmfSLpfKhf4Jd65b0k5bWObhZSL_luOXs6uggh7D5XnwKKx6n7uuMvsBEbMMKMBAo_W1uZLLWDAitZyN4YD4jNg/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7awJ0PQBzBdOLz6OAL6CsOFBfGgOwbCXYelZ51K5O-3BlB8jOSyFUmfSLpfKhf4Jd65b0k5bWObhZSL_luOXs6uggh7D5XnwKKx6n7uuMvsBEbMMKMBAo_W1uZLLWDAitZyN4YD4jNg/s640/Tiger+Gorge-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alone at the bottom. Yes Tom, I'm wearing a neckerchief, it stops my neck from burning. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQgzxKWIwcXz_I-u8jfvAcORalWnjvT4-4qwq5xRA3h9YBjERiX33rkXxRsWFM5-X39TY8VlDdqpUHyj2CuZR6FHPzET-HeErpgk6iyAqhvqJe0wzvWSbqZXxrbbrGwjb56QsH2CQHHd8/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQgzxKWIwcXz_I-u8jfvAcORalWnjvT4-4qwq5xRA3h9YBjERiX33rkXxRsWFM5-X39TY8VlDdqpUHyj2CuZR6FHPzET-HeErpgk6iyAqhvqJe0wzvWSbqZXxrbbrGwjb56QsH2CQHHd8/s640/Tiger+Gorge-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otto on the rope bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShauu0Avnxzzh2ZB-iI8nlZKd4TvKP9qOadzK80Y357jBtqnIj187e0QKAym8LUW5UuOSKXEms47ayd_9nOLYggkYVXPlzhPjvCVrowoZA9ZNowJV4NnGwlNGWHPb_Sy015MfFjgTWmQ/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShauu0Avnxzzh2ZB-iI8nlZKd4TvKP9qOadzK80Y357jBtqnIj187e0QKAym8LUW5UuOSKXEms47ayd_9nOLYggkYVXPlzhPjvCVrowoZA9ZNowJV4NnGwlNGWHPb_Sy015MfFjgTWmQ/s640/Tiger+Gorge-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Akke on the rock.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8m-vj3rEF7iWmc6qz7gCyNVeqHDKTs0jn9R6v99sYD_FbL4HfgjPVm9RAudz9OZ68Ob1y0lNqAF2MVZGrrDoL5d5XsGMZ_emjVZQ_mvi4Vep65k0sxmGWi7nFBi8MaC4qXNLmJs3Mak/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8m-vj3rEF7iWmc6qz7gCyNVeqHDKTs0jn9R6v99sYD_FbL4HfgjPVm9RAudz9OZ68Ob1y0lNqAF2MVZGrrDoL5d5XsGMZ_emjVZQ_mvi4Vep65k0sxmGWi7nFBi8MaC4qXNLmJs3Mak/s640/Tiger+Gorge-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the bridge. This made me a little scared.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQt5iFa_7NBCUnsRuv0qq9HBFEP1q2wJuEizcKsxoPMT2VmojYbm0Pb_nqQLPOAwcUkcsbo3A7kayZ6HhDQl59GEfmN-SBmJ_oRu-apjedmA5NNMK7qf0-qex1qdR49eFW-Js3xFCHm8/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQt5iFa_7NBCUnsRuv0qq9HBFEP1q2wJuEizcKsxoPMT2VmojYbm0Pb_nqQLPOAwcUkcsbo3A7kayZ6HhDQl59GEfmN-SBmJ_oRu-apjedmA5NNMK7qf0-qex1qdR49eFW-Js3xFCHm8/s640/Tiger+Gorge-53.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was talked down.</td></tr>
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The way back up was hell. I don't know how long it took, over an hour, but it was the most tiring part of the entire hike, with huge steps and climbs up, to retake the vertical kilometre we had surrendered in order to visit the bottom of the gorge. We stopped for a rest and a coke, and were joined by a Belgian couple in their early 70s who we had met a few times along the way. If I can walk up the stairs unaided at that age I'll be happy. We declined to take the safe route in favour of a 100 metre vertical ladder, which would save us a bit of time and zig-zagging up. It really got the adrenaline going, towards the top it was terrifying and my legs were already shaking from fatigue, I didn't need to be unsteady from fear as well. But needless to say, as you're reading this, I didn't fall to my death. We took our time more than the way down, and had great views over the landscape with the river glistening now in the distance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBD-sEVHTToIZHQHSSbSr7mvcR3oz5rolZ4zqQ1hZwdD6KV_TdM69fYIBPfzCny3fK2-OWo6MR3bMhhn4aV9DlVLr9Qu_sw3uyypUhtbAT60euUfxrnY2wcotDt9xOxnHfMfRqbEo51I/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBD-sEVHTToIZHQHSSbSr7mvcR3oz5rolZ4zqQ1hZwdD6KV_TdM69fYIBPfzCny3fK2-OWo6MR3bMhhn4aV9DlVLr9Qu_sw3uyypUhtbAT60euUfxrnY2wcotDt9xOxnHfMfRqbEo51I/s640/Tiger+Gorge-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An easier part of descending the valley, through a bamboo grove.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrEdk5kP8rgmyJcXQ7Y8OTV6Ck1o58vYBZE-XkKMAuyKUougFCJDzQC0qsHgn4QvrRluUUr0WfBR3RrBKo1HpMqF9bLt279bAMquJP5LBDYM20CUXq2Y4YiyPag6DeUgTthSSXLiVpDo/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrEdk5kP8rgmyJcXQ7Y8OTV6Ck1o58vYBZE-XkKMAuyKUougFCJDzQC0qsHgn4QvrRluUUr0WfBR3RrBKo1HpMqF9bLt279bAMquJP5LBDYM20CUXq2Y4YiyPag6DeUgTthSSXLiVpDo/s640/Tiger+Gorge-55.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Akke climbing the ladder.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7K6EynsXOFaqeMAdGLW_9fc-38TadNLSn1Yf58gCF2yFr1FPK6SeqM6wggcvX4YFrwU237ZCa5TyNAiGLFbZfWez-ABCZuDLY7skGrucsurrxzcFTgEmgU9tKWA0dAMLO4pbuldFs5A/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7K6EynsXOFaqeMAdGLW_9fc-38TadNLSn1Yf58gCF2yFr1FPK6SeqM6wggcvX4YFrwU237ZCa5TyNAiGLFbZfWez-ABCZuDLY7skGrucsurrxzcFTgEmgU9tKWA0dAMLO4pbuldFs5A/s640/Tiger+Gorge-56.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interlocking spurs of the river gorge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsx45BUDqYGQ6EqIRnStMq83zLwl_Ax0pqaFAwXLs2kCT-70xFyUQCzCU8j0amYzlanKrXcctIryEXQDFJXeDIrjr565C7qSOZc84uqdWKZcr7oZmJfAxGW8MD6bFN2hTnKK2YH-L22qY/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsx45BUDqYGQ6EqIRnStMq83zLwl_Ax0pqaFAwXLs2kCT-70xFyUQCzCU8j0amYzlanKrXcctIryEXQDFJXeDIrjr565C7qSOZc84uqdWKZcr7oZmJfAxGW8MD6bFN2hTnKK2YH-L22qY/s640/Tiger+Gorge-58.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun shines down over Tiger Leaping Gorge.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8QEeQ-jRvvru6zVjCfk8vtiQCG4TOnWZlfZwzQsGrNyQpLRGWGAP70_KG3H88u6qC9mSGSYZNAL3TouZeGowwCvwOhR-qZbeb2zWxQHPhHDXRmOSWw9RO23g7zt_A9cfo5dTxzs_-ac/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8QEeQ-jRvvru6zVjCfk8vtiQCG4TOnWZlfZwzQsGrNyQpLRGWGAP70_KG3H88u6qC9mSGSYZNAL3TouZeGowwCvwOhR-qZbeb2zWxQHPhHDXRmOSWw9RO23g7zt_A9cfo5dTxzs_-ac/s640/Tiger+Gorge-59.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way back up, looking down the valley.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxIXbmOJyl_15SQd1M_p-cc5zY7lYmGirtja6uzXOnbHtF-grdRQzVxaHGPU9EnEaja9AN_XmD1wqYwkK8XVi_iYcLNXLw4eKhwWeEsSXNX39qTAeIZFXWaL1wnL9aBkt-9-oZ8hhdjE/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxIXbmOJyl_15SQd1M_p-cc5zY7lYmGirtja6uzXOnbHtF-grdRQzVxaHGPU9EnEaja9AN_XmD1wqYwkK8XVi_iYcLNXLw4eKhwWeEsSXNX39qTAeIZFXWaL1wnL9aBkt-9-oZ8hhdjE/s640/Tiger+Gorge-24.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting smaller below us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-p_oqULkBYvn_3_iIEroYib_mSEemaR5RCPeXFq8rdKaFAGzi4kilDSJN4qRZOUafktadX5E4FvG3IxzVEnAlvC29mIAuM3_ggkpEJRSn6ezlx6RuLrDy6fnc9OPFSVwrkHunP8Q16s/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-p_oqULkBYvn_3_iIEroYib_mSEemaR5RCPeXFq8rdKaFAGzi4kilDSJN4qRZOUafktadX5E4FvG3IxzVEnAlvC29mIAuM3_ggkpEJRSn6ezlx6RuLrDy6fnc9OPFSVwrkHunP8Q16s/s640/Tiger+Gorge-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Back at the top, we were told it would be £15 for a minibus to take us the 20km back to the village at the start of the hike, where we had left our bags. We decided to try and hitch hike, and after ten minutes on the road we were packed into the back of a van, and were joined by another traveller from London for this part of the ride. The driver was a little heavy on the accelerator, but I trusted him and the remaining adrenaline in my blood kept fear at bay. Once back to the hostel we collected our things and went to take a bus back to Lijiang, but instead ended up hitching a ride in a small people carrier, and two hours later we were checking into a hostel in the old part of Lijiang.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pM4a70ROTf3JRqbuz13HxEuPW5udKfURAAX_m7a-VtbFSisc1QPAX-sr7CvKLvSct9pHRY1CsXCaQErU9EHfRNTcEyB9zp6Lg89B4oQFVmf9Ql90_GWQRT0JRHz-xFhriQA1BZ_s0W0/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pM4a70ROTf3JRqbuz13HxEuPW5udKfURAAX_m7a-VtbFSisc1QPAX-sr7CvKLvSct9pHRY1CsXCaQErU9EHfRNTcEyB9zp6Lg89B4oQFVmf9Ql90_GWQRT0JRHz-xFhriQA1BZ_s0W0/s640/Tiger+Gorge-60.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitch hiking back, I tried to take pictures of reflections of the Chinese girl sat in the front seat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGa4RHDMoJ2pFPdRjeyh742tmLZ0uetWPeg9nVfEYbJIZGeYjzCi_b1cPd74VrVZ_jZFP5orYDJgJpf85sMgWJTGl7igQ7QpkuBQWoQ5J56xu26CzMIrQQLI11axFa6h0TFMQunf_6Ho/s1600/Tiger+Gorge-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGa4RHDMoJ2pFPdRjeyh742tmLZ0uetWPeg9nVfEYbJIZGeYjzCi_b1cPd74VrVZ_jZFP5orYDJgJpf85sMgWJTGl7igQ7QpkuBQWoQ5J56xu26CzMIrQQLI11axFa6h0TFMQunf_6Ho/s640/Tiger+Gorge-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More abstract reflections as the sun set.</td></tr>
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Ben Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06296645805059135366noreply@blogger.com1