Sossegado

Writing this blog post is going to be hard work. Not because writing blogs is particularly hard, but because my fingers, and perhaps the rest of my body, have gone into a semi-comatose state brought about by the Goan beaches.

Palolem is a beach

My long train trip is over. All 38 hours of it. The train spat me out in the city of Margao in the south of Goa and I promptly caught a bus further south, to Palolem. Palolem is a beach town. It is is a beautiful beach town. It is, in fact, more of a beach than a town. The beach is, in essence, the town. Palolem is a beach. There are huts on the beach with people in them. And bars on the beach with other people in them. There are palm trees around the beach and a flat sea just off the beach. The beach is crescent-shaped, which is apparently a good shape for a beach to be. It is hot. It is sunny. There is a certain sossegado to life on this beach.

Sossegado is a distinctly Goan word. It translates, rather crudely, to laid-backness. It is undeniably the best word to describe life in a Goan beachside town. Life is just laid-back. There's not much to do but lie in the sun (or the shade, if you're a pasty individual like me who doesn't want to look like a burnt tomato at the end of the day) and read. And then spend some time in the balmy water. Because there's not much to do apart from be a lazy lout and enjoy yourself, there's not much to write about to interest other people in an obscure, traveler's blog post. Which is the reason I'm citing for not having written anything, up to now. I assure you it has everything to do with me being too lazy to remove myself from the beach and type something up.

Three paragraphs in and I've managed to say nothing at all. This is a pretty good sign. It looks like I'll be able to pass off my laziness by obscuring it in florid descriptions of beaches and palm trees.

This is my Palolem beach hut - swanky, right?

One remarkable thing about accommodation in Palolem is the accommodation itself. Almost all of the accommodation is of the tiny, beach hut variety, just off the beach, amongst the palm trees. These little huts are fantastic! They are assembled at the beginning of each tourist season, just after the monsoon, and disassembled at the end of each season, before the monsoon's return. Huts are pokey, with little more than a bed and a mosquito net (and a tiny bathroom, if you're lucky) which is exactly why I love them. Waking up in a rickety little hut and stumbling out on to a beach is a brilliant way to start a day. If you haven't experienced this, you'll have to take my word for it. Another brilliant feature of these little huts is the maze of sandy, shady alleyways that get formed between them. A walk along these narrow paths is a good way to step away from the countless European tourists in Speedos who inhabit the beach. Speedo's should be considered a crime against humanity.

I wake up to this...

Patnem, a semi-Speedo-free zone

A little way south of Palolem is another beach, Patnem. Patnem is also a crescent-shaped beach, but with the added advantage of having fewer Speedo-toting Europeans around. It's a lot less busy and is therefore a good way of escaping the tourist hordes. I spent some time there today, and I plan on spending some more time there tomorrow, and the next day. Anything to save my eyes from that horrible excuse for a swimming costume. And the people who seem to think it's a very attractive swimming costume. These people are almost always fat, roasted men in their late fifties from the south of France.

With the conclusion of my rant on the heinous crime that is wearing a Speedo in public, or even in private for that matter, I think I'll conclude this pointless update of my blog. You are now aware of my laziness. My confirmation of it is firmly in writing. It's starting to approach evening time over here, the sun is well over the yardarm. I'm going to be heading back to the beach soon to enjoy a cold beer and a spicy, prawn vindaloo.

Oh God, those vindaloos... The mouth-watering explosion of flavour that is the Goan specialty dish. The spices, the fresh seafood which practically swam on to the plate, the zing of chilli... The sudden reverie that merely typing the word 'vindaloo' induces...

I'm off... I think I'll have an early supper.

A snapshot of the rocky Colomb bay

The Taj Mahal and Some Fireworks

I would, at the outset of this blog post, like to inform you that I am writing it after having got very little sleep the night before. This is largely due to the fact that I was on a train and the person next to me snored at a decibel level that would shame a Boeing. I will add that (minus the snoring) the train was a fantastic experience and I'm looking forward to my next train trip - which is a long one!

Wednesday was Diwali, by the way, but I'll get to that a little later on. First on the agenda is this:

The Taj Mahal is, simply put, the most beautiful building I have ever seen. It is seemingly perfect in every way. It stands on a raised platform so that it's only backdrop is the sky. The four minarets lean ever so slightly outwards so that one's gaze is drawn to the Taj. The white marble reflects the sun to give the whole building a slight glow. And it is big. It is very, very big yet somehow, I had expected it to be smaller. All the pictures of the Taj make it appear smaller than it is, but as you approach it you can't help but be blown away by the enormity of it. It's as if the Taj is trying to sneak up on you and then jump out at you while shouting, "Surprise!"

There is an interesting optical illusion as you enter the Taj complex. As you walk into the gateway the Taj appears to be magnified, but upon exiting the gate the Taj seems to recede. The effect is that you get overawed by the building twice on you approach to it. See for yourself:

Entering the Taj grounds through the main gate

Inside the Taj grounds, at the reflection pool

I thought this optical illusion was a fantastic piece of architecture and design and I had to share it with you.

Did I mention something about fireworks? Oh, yes - Diwali!

Diwali is something special. It is the craziest, loudest and brightest (and possibly the most dangerous) festival I have ever attended. And by attended I mean observed from a safe distance. Diwali in India is both easy and difficult to describe. It is easy to say that firecrackers and fireworks were set off the whole night, but it is not easy to convey that that means by everyone and everywhere. I sat for hours on a rooftop watching the festivities. There was a constant stream of fireworks being shot into the sky from all around. And firecrackers exploded everywhere, creating a rhythm for the night.

This was only a few metres way from my perch

The thought of venturing on to the streets didn't cross my mind once, though. This is because the streets didn't look like a safe place to be at all. I watched fireworks being placed and lit and then people on motorbikes casually driving past as they shot into the air. I watched as fireworks were shot into the air nearby and exploded merely 10 metres above the rooftop I was sitting on.

Diwali is not safe, but it is a blast! I'm so glad I got to experience the festival of light in the country that loves it the most. It was a whirl of light, noise and sound and a fantastic shock to the senses. It was the perfect way to end a day that included a trip to the Taj Mahal.

I'll write more about my train journey and Varanasi in my next blog. Spoiler alert: I wasn't in Varanasi for more than 10 minutes before I saw a body being carried to the Ganges for burning on a funeral pyre.

Vietnam's Biggest Surprise

Make yourselves comfortable, this could be another long'un.

Jeremy Clarkson, upon seeing Halong Bay, described it as 'Vietnam's biggest surprise.' After seeing Halong Bay I can say with certainty that that statement is the best description of Halong bay. You can look at millions of pictures and read thousands of books and nothing will prepare you for your first sight of the thousands of karst islands towering above the sea. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I first need to write a little about Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam.

A back alley in Hanoi, before sunset

The easiest way to describe Hanoi would be to compare it to a similar city, in this case the best comparison would be HCMC. Hanoi is nothing like Saigon. Comparison done. About the only thing Hanoi has in common with HCMC is the craziness. Hanoi is at full throttle all day and most of the night. Sadly, the similarities end there. Hanoi lacks the charm that is so abundant in HCMC. It is much more business-like and the attitude of the people reflects that. Basically Hanoi is all the craziness of HCMC with none of the smiles and laughs. And everything is 50% more expensive than in the south.

On Wednesday morning, bright and early a bus came and whisked us off to Halong Bay for our 2 day cruise through the karsts. We jumped on the boat at midday and had lunch on our way to the first stop on the tour, 2 huge caves full of stalagmites and stalactites. The cave is one of the first limestone islands you come to, so a full view of the other karsts was not provided just yet.

The first cave, lit in crazy colours

The first cave is more popular with the tourists and was lit with lights in many different colours. The cave was spectacular, but the multi-coloured lights detracted from the brilliance of it and furthermore a fountain had been installed near the exit. Millions of years of erosion by the dripping of water and crashing of waves and they've gone and put a fountain right in the middle of the cave. The idea is ridiculous, not to mention damaging to the cave in the long run.

The second cave was much less visited by tourists and was far better than the first. It was not lit by ridiculous lights and it felt a lot less tainted by people. We had only 40 minutes to explore both caves as we had more to do and see that day so we headed back to the boat to avoid being left behind. We left the cave and the island behind and cruised into the karsts. The karsts are truly amazing. There is no proper way to describe them without failing to do them justice. Limestone mountains with sheer cliffs jut out of the sea and tower over everything beneath them.

The karst islands of Halong Bay

The inhabitants of Halong bay have a story almost as dramatic as that of the islands. Many of the people who inhabit the floating villages spread throughout Halong bay are born there, live there and die there, some never setting foot on dry land apart from the karsts. The next stop on the tour was at one of these villages where we were taken through a cave to a place where we could swim. It is at this point that I would like to add that the tour itself was not that good. The tour operators were misers of the worst kind and everyone on board was still hungry after every meal. For breakfast on the second day we had to share an omelet between 5 people. Sadly, this is a common occurrence in Vietnam. It is a deliberate tactic caused by an agreement between tour/bus/boat operators and restaurants/locals. The restaurant has a monopoly on food in an area and the bus/boat/tour operator brings hungry customers who are then forced to buy food. In this case the boat operator was also the snack stall owner so it was in his best interests to keep everyone hungry so they'd buy snacks.

The tour itinerary may not have been the best and the food may have been slim, but the only reason I went was to see the karsts and they certainly didn't disappoint me. Just being able to see this natural wonder was good enough for me. Spending a night on a boat amongst some of those limestone towers was a fantastic experience.

The next morning, after breakfast, we started our journey back to the harbour. The karsts were bathed in early-morning mist and were even more stunning than the day before. We stopped at the same village as the previous day to do some kayaking in exactly the same place as we'd taken the boat which was a bit annoying, but an experience nonetheless. After a measly allowance of 20 minutes on the kayaks we headed out of the karsts and back to the harbour for lunch. For once we were served a hearty meal and I polished off about six bowls of rice.

The karsts wrapped in a mist blanket

After a gratifyingly filling lunch, I waddled my rice belly over to the bus to commence the journey back to Hanoi. The bus driver nearly killed everyone on a number of occasions on the way back by playing chicken with trucks and other buses, but somehow we arrived intact.

We arrived back at 17:00 and had to catch a night train to Sapa at 20:35, so we showered and caught up with the rest of the world while we waited for the train. At 19:30 we made our way to the train station, found the right platform and got on the train. I was passed out within minutes of the train leaving the station and at 4:45 this morning was awoken and told we had arrived at Lao Cai on the Chinese border. We jumped off the train and onto a bus heading to Sapa and waited for it to leave. An hour later the bus departed for Sapa and 45 minutes after that we arrived.

In the past few days I've seen some of the most amazing sights and some of the most beautiful vistas Vietnam has to offer. Sapa is high in the mountains and we climbed through mist and fog to get here. Upon arrival at our hotel we were treated to the most magnificent views I have ever seen. Terraced fields occupy the sides of the surrounding mountains and mist was rising up the valley. We stood on a balcony above it all, breathed in the fresh mountain air and took in the incredible view. What a place!

Welcome to Sapa!

Oliver

P.S. I wrote this blog up yesterday, but wasn't able to add the pictures so everywhere you see the word 'today', substitute it with the word 'yesterday'. It may sound difficult, but I believe in you.

P.P.S Here are some more shots of the karsts for your enjoyment:

Cruising through the karsts

A floating village complete with school and bank

At low tide you can kayak though that little opening

You may not be able to see it, but on the right hand side
of the pic there is a cave that you can go through.