ha long bay day - 23/4/2016

By the morning the weather had lifted enough to make a trip to Ha long Bay a possibility for a few hours. Perhaps a bigger factor however was the fact that my mood, soured and angry from a run of bad luck seemed to have lifted over night. My camera, broken, was just that, a broken camera and whilst frustrating to the extreme that it had come this far and then failed so close to the end, I was determined that it wasn't going to spoil the journey. Besides I still had a 24mp on my replacement z2 which would be good enough for a few snaps, and that of course was going to be better than nothing.

I still kept playing though, in the morning it received more hair dryer treatment over the course of a few hours, and I played around a with it in-between packing up to see if there was any life in the old dog at all. My mind was now set in a tech, experiment mode, devoid from frustration and emotion, but still unable to give up fully on something that was again starting to show slight signs of life.

At first it was whirring, vibrating and clunking, displaying a generic "camera error" screen on the inside, but over the course of those evaporating hours it was showing signs of changes, if not improvements. By the time it came to check out of the room, the vibrating and whirring had stopped, but looking through the viewfinder the camera would only last a short while before the view dumped downwards and the error message was once again displayed. However, occasionally it would stay on long enough for me to get a picture or 2 and I'm well aware that it is just a camera, a mostly inanimate object without it's own heart or soul, but I started to get the impression it was really trying to get there, almost like it didn't want to get left behind. It was like the camera was determined to show that it had been it's journey too. I was willing to give it a chance and placed it into the rubber, waterproof bag that I was taking out for the journey to the bay, leaving the rest of the luggage in the hotel reception after checkout to pick up a few hours down the line.

The bus we caught a little down the road took us directly to the boat station, a different place that we had disembarked the night before and thanks to some calls that Lan had made earlier that day,  we were rushed through the ticket buying process before then being escorted through the packed hall and along the quay to wait a short while for our boat to arrive. A longer wait then presented itself as we waited for the boat to accommodate it's allotted fill of passengers and the tour operators moved busily outside sorting what they needed to sort, organising what they needed to organise until it was time for us to set sail without sails. By the time our boat slipped it's moorings and floated lopsidedly, I quipped that our 4 hour boat trip was now down to just over 3. It wasn't all wasted time though, the Korean "lady" on one of the tables opposite using the extra minutes here to fill up her phone with a couple of hundred MB's of seductively styled selfie shots, complete with mid session "check" and push up before he friend finally joined her and helped her get things right.

Out on the open waters our boat moved effortlessly over the flat, calm waters, gliding towards our first port of call. It may have only taken half an hour to reach but this was plenty of time for more selfies to be taken by Korea's finest and for the 2 middle aged Japanese fellows sat on the same table to sink a few cold bottles of beers, each one seemingly better than the last. I was just happy to have a coffee. Instant, black and with sugar, the one available (but not completely diabetic friendly) option, it was still coffee and filled one of  my 2 needs at the time. An Insulin injection boost now needing to provide the mean to process it being the other. The camera worked, then failed, then failed before failing again. I packed it back into my bag as the boat came into dock.


We were given an hour to wander through network of caves, the occasional drip on the head causing a brief distraction from the spectrums of colour used to highlight the enclosing attraction, as well as the winding path to lead you through safely. For a brief moment when the power failed the caves were plunged into absolute darkness and you could hear by the sudden silence that  everyone had completely stopped, as though playing a giant game of musical statues with the trigger being the absence of light as opposed to music and with motion only resuming again when power was restored. This provided the most excitement that the caves had probably seen for a while, closely followed by trying to guess which Korean "Pose" would be waiting for you around the corner. Somehow, no matter how many times we managed to pass them through the often narrow pathways, they always managed to end up in front of us again.

The second cave we were due to visit was closed for maintenance so we sat in the sun on the harbourside benches, taking in the unique views and waiting for the rest of the time to pass by before departure. With a few minutes to kill I again pulled out the camera from it's waterproof bag, opened the battery and memory card flaps and set it to sit in the sun for a few minutes. This was one of the few chances that I had been able to give it to dry and, no matter how fruitless an endeavour it might have seen, at this point I had nothing else to try. It sat there for 5 minutes in the strong natural heat before it was time to disembark. The sun in these parts is powerful, but maybe I hadn't appreciated just quite how much.

Back on the boat I flicked the camera on. It didn't grumpy or whine, nor did it error or fail. The rear panel was still as dead as ever but the camera had again performed an act of Lazerus like proportions.  Tracking was little iffy and autofocus was not as responsive as it should have been, back in body but not in mind maybe, but it was enough for me to do what I wanted, and that was just to capture a little bit of the waters on which we floated, the boats, the life and the scenery around. I resisted the temptation to give it a coffee to help bring it around.

As we sailed the waters over the next few hours, the camera improved, the Japanese drank and the Korean models carried on shooting each other, complete with mid show costume changes, Ha long Bay itself is much as you would expect it to be, with t's still waters edged with limestone rocks and cliffs giving the place it's famed look and feel. One of the criticisms you might hear is that the place is too busy with a crowded feel, but personally this isn't an opinion I shared. Busy I guess is correct, with the tourism industry naturally feeding off the desires of people to see these places of outstanding natural beauty meaning a steady stream of boats ferrying people along the same stretches of water, but crowded it isn't. The islands around may prove to be quieter than the tourist hotspots, and as I had witnessed the day before, were no less stunning. If you want a tourist trip, well you get that here but you want to get to something maybe more quiet and serene, well it's possible to find that here too, or only a very short distance away. It had taken me over 2 years to get here from my last failed attempt, and I stand by the sentiments I felt at that time, It's sometime more about the journey than the destination........

Although.........sometimes the destination helps too..

After we had safely returned to port, we made our was back to the hotel and collected our bags from the lobby for the bus trip to our next destination 50 km's west.  A small hotel on a large dusty road that would eventually lead us back to Hanoi, I only woke from my sleep twice on the hour long ride. Once as I nearly fell off the seat as I cusped my bag dozily between my tired shorts dressed thighs poised on the edge of the bench, the other as the driver shouted out that we had reached our destination, with me then hurriedly gathering my bags up and sloping off the bus rather haphazardly on to the side of the highway outside.

As the bus pulled away into the distance and I hoisted my bag again onto my shoulder. It dawned on me that my cap, my trusted servant for over 2 years which I had purchased over 2 years before in Cambodia had now carried on it's trip without me.

I wish it all the best on it's future travels.

Cat Ba - Ha long 22/4/2016

In the morning when we all met down stairs for breakfast, the colourful blanketed clear skies from the night before had been replaced by a duvet of grey and drizzle. Due to business commitments, Duong and his family were going to be heading back to their hometown of Hai Phong, where as Lan and I would be catching the bus to the ferry point on the island, to then catch the ferry up towards Ha Long bay. Over the course of the next half hour or so, as Lan booked the bus and I ate more rice, the rains went from light to moderate and then to "not very nice at all".

The first bus we were shepherded on to, we were shortly shown back off again as it wasn't the right one for us and we waited for a further twenty or thirty minutes as buses came and went, with everyone asking the same questions to those in charge*. "Is this our bus"? Nobody seemed to know.
Finally a big, old, dirty bus parked outside and everyone was rushed towards it, their luggage slung into the baggage compartment below with the exception of mine, there was simply not room.  Patiently outside, everyone got wet a party of Chinese tourists were led from the hotel and escorted on first, followed by everyone else no matter or age, sex or physical ability. When the seats were full, everyone else had to stand, and when the was no more standing room, I was given one of the front seats at the expense of a guide who then crouched in the footwell infront pushed against my backpack. With everyone then uncomfortably on board, the signal was given and we embarked on the half hour trip to the harbour.

Reaching speeds upwards of 4 mph as we traversed up the steep slops out of Cat Ba and the occasional gear shift down not going quite as the rally driver in the seat had hoped, the challenge was now on to make up for lost time on the rest of the journey. With the windows inside starting to mist up and the windscreen being increasings battered by every harsher conditions, the flats and the downhills gave the driver every opportunity to prove his mettle, as he slung the coach from left to right and back again in order to keep the coach on the tarmac away from the steep drops that at times lined the road. I've never been on a coach where I have felt the wheels sliding out through lack of traction before, but I'm sure this wasn't a new experience for all. The guys at the front all remained chatty throughout where as I just kept looking at the map on my phone and accompanying GPS position, relaying this information back to Lan who was lost somewhere further back, sat next to someone wearing Eu du stale tobacco. When we arrived at the ferry point the rain fall had made "Torrential" and everyone jumped the puddles outside the coach steps to get into the shelter a few steps away. Most of the bags followed shortly after the people had made land, I had carried mine with me before hand, being as to leave it in it's position at the front of the coach would have meant it surely being trampled by the heard of Chinese tourists that would be shortly coming through, probably before everyone else had a chance to move.

At the ferry point we were told that we would have to wait for the rain to lighten before being able to board the waiting boats, so I took this opportunity to get all my electrical items into a waterproof bag inside my rucksack just in case. It was a bit of a rush as the Vietnamese don't tend to be much good at giving you notice of when it's going to be time to move, just that it's time to move but now with everything re-packed and my new 30,000 VND red emergency poncho donned, I was ready whenever.

It took a while, but the rains halted we were shown to our smaller "link up" boat that would be taking us to the larger one which was floating out just a small distance away. With the rain now stopped I thought it safe enough to get out the Camera and try and get some photo's, noticing a little bloom as i pointed up towards the bright outline of the rock above us. With the odd bit of water now splashing in only from man pushing his canvas roof up on the boat moored to the side of us, I put the camera away waited for the off on the wet wooden benches. Poncho's are marvellous things.

After waiting for what seemed an exorbitant amount of time for the little bit of paperwork apparently needed by the captain, we bobbed on over to the bigger vessel and scrambled aboard, first being shown along a narrow corridor on the base of the boat before being then turned around and shown upstairs to the larger, dining area surrounded by glass windows and filled by a number of different tour groups. After I managed to stop swearing and cursing about the complete lack of organisation skills, and as a Vietnamese Spring Roll Cookery Class was starting for one of the groups I unpacked the camera again, ditched the poncho and headed outside to watch the journey unfold from a better vantage point. 

Halong Bay and it's surroundings are renowned for their landscapes. The pillars of limescale rock rising and reflected in the still waters around. As the boat moved slowly through some of the smaller gorges, it was hard to not be impressed with the scope and the scale, even against the faux dramatic backdrop of grey. The sky's lightened up for a while, before darkening again, bringing that damp chill feeling with and as we made out way to port we all knew that the rain was coming back with a vengeance. 

And vengeful it was. As we sat in the room waiting to leave, we were told that there would be a wait again until the rains lightened up. With no stay yet booked and the likely hood of the weather continuing in the same manner for the rest of the day, we booked up a hotel online and waited for the time to disembark so we could get a taxi outside and just get to where we were going for the day.

After 30 minutes the rains were harder than ever, and at this point we were told it was time to go. As we left the boat onto the steps outside, it was clear that this was a very bad move.

There was no taxi rank, no shelter, in fact nothing but muddy roads and a signs of delayed construction opposite. Apparently in order to get more people to visit the area in which we now found ourself, the disembarking area had been moved from it's old area in Ha Long itself to this area about 10km away, deciding to worry about little things like shelter and transport afterwards. With Lan trying to call a taxi on the phone, I decided to walk on in the hope of finding some shelter, my feet now soaked from walking across roads that were rivers and the rest of me and my belongings being swamped from the deluge above.

We found a shelter abut 5 minutes walk away, and huddled under there to wait with a large number of others. The taxi that Lan had called eventually arrived, handily parking with it's passenger door in front of a lake sized muddy puddle but I guess that was not his problem. Twenty wet minutes later we reached our hotel, checked in and headed up to the room to dry off. 

It's a funny moment when you unpack you bag and everything is wet to different degrees. from the "better wring that one out" of the items nearer the surface, to the "it's a little damp but I can wear it" stuff that was more protected in the middle. With clothes hung up or airing my attention turned back to may camera, which in the rush to disembark had been placed inside my smaller rucksack, not thinking that I was going to be stood out in the downpour equivalent of Niagra Falls with no where to hide. It's felt damp and as I switched it on it vibrated in my hand, a motor trying to do something inside maybe, but whatever it was wasn't normal. I quickly flicked it off again hoping I hadn't caused it further damage, but realising that it was probably in a very bad way. I dropped the battery out the bottom to cut any power, and it was damp with signs droplets of water. I did the same with the memory card and the same conditions applied. damp with visible signs of water.  I think it was here I swore, but I'm not sure If I had actually stopped swearing for the last 4 hours anyway.

So the camera was dead again, I was soaked and there was no heating control in the room in order for things to air properly, clothes or electrics. It's seemed the the trip had just been lurching from bad to worse for the last couple of weeks and it was difficult to keep sight of anything positive at that time. Maybe it was tiredness or exhaustion, but I seemed to be unable to deal as well I should with this run of bad luck, my mind stuck on the patch of negatives of the recent past rather than the wealth positives from the trip as a whole.

I mounted the camera on it's tripod. opened it's doors and flaps and then turned on the hairdryer on cool settings with t's hose blowing hair from below. The dryer would shut itself off after 30 minutes max and I would then let the camera to stand and rest. 

Do not rinse, just repeat. 

And resign yourself to the fact that from now on in, it's camera phone time.

Ha Noi -> Cat Ba 20/4/2016

In the morning, my friend Lan arrived on an early flight from her home town of Da Nang, and promptly accosted my room for a quick sleep while I went out and got some coffee. A short while after we met one of her friends "Duong" (pronounced "Yung") on the outskirts of the Old Quarter who then drove us to his home town of Haiphong 60 miles west of Ha Noi, where along with his wife and young child we would be continuing our trip towards Ha Long the following morning. That night we ate food, drank beer and stayed in the opposing wings of a hotel that, from the inside at least was like The Adams family mansion. Stairs going off in all directions, with no logical layout of the rooms and floors.

The next morning started with rice, as it usually does for people in Asia, followed by a quick trip to Highland coffee for drinks to take with us before Duong drove us another 10 miles to Dinh Vu Ferry point, where we caught the hourly car ferry first across to the nearby island of Cat Hai, driving the short distance across island before then catching another ferry across to to the next island and then onto the harbour town of Cat Ba. Arriving there in the early afternoon before we were then taken by boat to a small, floating restaurant where we ate fish freshly raised and killed from the waters below, the head served in a soup, the rest eaten with yet more rice.

I like to experience new things and was willing to go along with the food that was being enjoyed by all, but at the same time I was starting to feel a little off colour. The last couple of meals had now consisted of fish and rice at which I had merely picked, making an effort to eat as much as not to offend appreciating the effort of those around that had brought me here, but at the same time it was impossible to ignore the signs that my body was now telling me that it needed something more. The feeling of nausea had started to creep in,

The afternoon consisted of a short trip around the picturesque bay, with its floating bars, restaurants and colourful houses set against the backdrop of still waters and jutting rock formations. When the light started to fall we watched the sun settle from a raised cliffside observation point with a couple of beers, the bays blanketed orange slipping off the edge as darkness fell. The evening meal consisted of chicken........and a bit more rice.

I finally cracked. After Duong and his family had retired for the evening and Lan and I sat enjoying a late night coffee, I ordered a cheese and ham sandwich to eat a little later on,  something to soak up the rice and give me a feeling of eating something of bulk. I needed to start feeling normal again quickly and I hoped this would help everything settle

Tomorrow we headed for "the bay".

The calmness of the air belied the weather conditions that the next day would spring upon us.

Hanoi 15/04/2016

I had been to Hanoi before, very briefly in November 2013 for an overnight stop as I escaped from the predicted path of Typhoon Haiyan. That typhoon had devastated the Philippines, and although when it did hit Vietnam the power had diminished from what had been previously forecast, at that time the city was in preparation for the worst with things being sured up and branches lopped to minimise the damage from the storm. I had seen little before my flight back then, but what I had I remembered clearly enough.

The general consensus that you hear from people (or sometimes read) is that people in the north of Vietnam are not as friendly as their southern counterparts, but I didn't find a coolness at all. At almost every point I was greeted warmly where ever I went, from the care and attention at the hotel when I first checked in to the multitude of street vendors and the student I talked to by the lake, all were perfectly helpful, polite, funny or charming. It leaves me to draw a weird conclusion that I must have lived for the last thirty years of my life in one of the more unfriendly places on earth, despite numerous pieces of propaganda that is now regularly put out by "The City of Bristol" telling you about it's proportted greatness in one area of another. I love my home "town" to be sure, but it certainly makes you think that maybe it's time we said our goodbyes when I return in a few days. I will have to see what develops from here.

The other thing of course is that even if I wanted to, I don't think I can afford to live there anyway unless I can get a better financial grasp of things......but that's a whole different can of worms which I can't be bothered to open right now.

Hoan Kien Lake lies just below Ha Noi's Old Quarter with it congested narrow streets, restaurants and night markets. Much has changed in the last few years, with more conventional cafe's, restaurants and ATM's prevalent throughout the area, but there remains enough traditional food stalls and shops along the sides of the roads to retain it's old unique feel and identity. The changes in Ha Noi feel smaller in comparison to those I saw in Saigon, where big building projects and contractual partnerships with other countries contractors look to be powering it into the 21st century at breakneck speed. Here it's not so much about a change in the construct of the city that's makes it feel different, more the convenience of things that we maybe take for granted in some parts of the world now being more widely available. The infrastructure rather than any large skyline changes.

The Roads to the south of the Lake are a stark contrast to those just that short distance away, it suddenly all gets very French again. The roads (think boulevards) are wide and lined with grand old colonial buildings that wouldn't be out of place in Paris itself, but the abundance of cars as well as the more familiar bikes now parked up on the often crumbling and/or uneven pavements mean that you end up walking on the road with the traffic more often than you would ideally like to. Many of the roads around this area are designated as one way which should of course make stepping out less haphazard, however as one way streets (and traffic light signals to the same extent) are still seen more as guidelines rather than rules by some drivers/riders, you can never be too careful if you want to avoid getting the mirror print of "Honda" imprinted on your bottom.

There's a misconception here amongst foreigners that everything just works as far as traffic goes, and whilst it's still awe inspiring to see so many vehicles travelling in so many directions seemingly without any incident, a quick look at the parked bikes along any stretch of road will tell you a slightly different story, with many sporting parts with the numbers still written upon them, replacements for those that have been damaged or broken. The lack of serious incidents in built up areas considering the amount of moving traffic in a confined space is still admirable though, with small bumps that would have anyone back home reaching for the insurance details given hardly any more thought as long as both parties can carry on their way.

This doesn't mean that roads in Vietnam are safe, far from it, but I can only assume that many of the more serious injuries and deaths occur on the faster larger roads rather than inner city areas.

http://www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/road_traffic/countrywork/vnm/en/

I spent a few days in Hanoi trying to get the camera working for me again, visiting museums and reading up on the french colonial history and the struggle of the vietnamese people during this time under their rule, all the time sweltering in the higher humidity and low 30 degree heat that engulfed the capital city.  In the evening as i tried to get a night time shot of the lake and it's surroundings I was approached by a smartly dressed man who talked briefly about travel and where I was going before moving the conversation onto the subject of selling me drugs or some other vice. I politely declined as I always do, but I suspect that rather than any straight deal he was trying to make, he was more about trying to snare, entrap and then maybe extract more money from those that might not be that unsuspecting, or a little more gullible

I love a lot of Asia to bits, the cultures, the foods and for the most parts the people. But it's these other things, the darker sides, the exploitation or underhand nature where people seek to profit from others naivety or simple oneupmanship that after a while, really just starts to get on your tits.

Why can't we all just.......Get along?

Bangkok to Hanoi (the goods, the bad and the mugsme) 15/4/2016

There's definitely something to be said for the theory around the balance of pleasure and pain needing to be equal. What had been the one of the funniest, most enjoyable days I can remember became soured somewhat by the realisation that around 4000 Thai Baht had been lifted from my wallet at the hostel, but the second realisation that I was also no longer in possession of my trusted hard drive which had been with me since the start of the trip left me with the feeling of resigned defeat. Not only did this contain all my music and film files that I had been using to help me relax when such time was needed, but more importantly it also had stored on it a bunch if personal documents that are going to be difficult to replace, as well as my "raw" image files for all the pictures I had taken up until the end of Vietnam, having stored them all externally due to Apple being remarkably stingy with hard drive space on a machine that retails for 1250 gbp in the UK. But no matter how you look at it or who ever you try to blame, the fact of the matter is that while the loss of money is annoying, the pictures and 5 month of "work" irreplaceable, both are now gone and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I can't tell you the amount of times I almost apologised for my own actions on not hiding these things better, stopping my self before (or sometimes just after) the words "it's my own fault I guess.." slipped through my lips. It's an attitude or thought that somehow we have allowed to become normal in the way we think or view

victims of crime, and I for one from now on refuse to take any of the blame. I can't be 100% sure that my hard drive was stolen, but with money going from my wallet as I took a shower in the morning , thoughts leads to the possibility that maybe it wasn't a one off. We're always told that we need to be careful with our possessions, keep things locked up  or hidden from view. I have a better idea. Why don't we try putting the ownness onto the people who stand to profit from their actions at the expense of someone else no complicit in the plan. Just a thought.

Until there is a directional shift in the understanding who is at fault, everything remains the same. we remain having the shit kicked out of us and then continually try to justify it to ourselves with the reflex start of  "it's my own fault I guess.."  

I continue to check with hotels and airlines from the last part of the trip in the minutest of hopes that it got lost somewhere in transit, but seeing as I recall seeing it at the hostel then unless that is a mistaken memory (not impossible with the amount I have moved around) the chances of that are slim to none. 

I'd love to be the better person here, to be able to turn the other cheek and say that the other persons need was greater than mine, but I just can't.  If you took my hard drive (a 1tb Toshiba hard drive in a clear plastic water tight bag) and my money, no matter the reason you think you can make for justifying it, I wish you severe personal injury, misfortune and a very painful and unpleasant death. You know nothing about me, what I have done or what I have been through, and you have absolutely no right to take anything away from me in the thought that you deserve it more. If you've taken it in error please return it. If you don't I won't hunt you, I will not find you and I doubt very much I would kill you. but all of the vitriolic language I spouted above will still very much apply.

Things don't get much depressing than taking a double kicking, or do they?

Well, challenging maybe.

Arriving at my destination in Hanoi it was soon apparent that my camera had finally given up the ghost, advancing somewhat from "glitching a little bit" that it had been the night before. The rear panel was now dead, a couple of buttons ceasing to work and then finally the electronic viewfinder also stopped  working, looking pretty much like it was finally game over.

The prognosis from the Camera shop was bad. What sounded to the western ear like "The main bolt is broken" turned out to be the much more expensive "The main board is broken", carrying with it a $500 to $600  estimated repair bill. I thought about it, trying to argue the for and against in my head while the man in the shop waited on the other end of the line for my response. I had been travelling for 5 months, had spent a lot of money that I would never recoup by photography sales (I've never sold one to date), but this this was more of a project anyway, and the thought of missing the last few weeks, especially in the part of the world I had been trying to get back to see for the last 2 and a half years was a strong point in favour of the repair, but the cost and the lack of funds now available made it hard to justify the expense, especially seeing as the potential for how and when I was going to be earning again when I get back to the UK is not yet clear. 

"Leave it" I finally blurted. It's too much really, leaving it an hour before I went to pick it's lifeless body back up from the camera morgue.

but I couldn't give up. I have a problem like that. Each time I switch the camera on I could feel it jolt, it wanted to live. I just needed to find out how to get it there.

Stopping in the electronic shop a little later I picked up a micro HDMI to HDMI cable and then went about plugging the camera up to the TV back at the hotel and turned both items on. The image from the camera burst onto the TV, which was more than I was expecting, and with this small breakthrough I was able to access the menu items and go about changing some of the items I thought could make a difference, setting the rear panel to off to try and force the image through the eye piece amongst other things.

It only bloody worked. 

Progress,slow, but progress.

I reassigned some more buttons in the menu to give me quick access to functions that I had lost due to further failure, and then I was all set to go and test. Auto focus was far from perfect initially, tracking was not so great, but the more I used it, the more the camera seemed to learn and adapt. Considering the overwhelming feeling of defeat that I had been feeling over  the previous couple of days, it was a small, but massive development.

I may have lost more than I would have liked in a short period of time, but at least I can now hopefully finish the picture project I started a little while ago, and this, at least mentally for me, is a absolutely huge turn of events.

It's been an epic journey of highs and lows. For now though I just need to get through this  next couple of weeks without anyone taking a fence.

Just wish everyone else would extend me the same courtesy.

Songkran (worlds biggest water fight?) - 13/4/2016

In the days leading up to the Songkran festival I had gone out and picked up the essentials. Firstly a fully waterproof bag (the type used in white water rafting and the like to keep your things 100% dry) to keep my camera, wallet and blood testing equipment out of harms way. The 11 litre bag (which could be folded down to fit the contents to stop things from bouncing around too much inside) was on offer at 555 Baht, an amount which wasn't as random as the price might first seem. Songkran is an opportunity for Thai people to unwind and have fun whilst welcoming the start of the new year and after I pointed out the price on the receipt to the shop assistant that served me, she started laughing before excitedly thrusting the recipe into the face of another member of staff. He started laughing too, but this time it was expressed more verbally than the girl, but both were obviously very tickled. "555" is, after all, the way that Thai people physically write down "Ha Ha Ha".

The second item I brought was a water pistol, although maybe "water assault rifle" might be a more appropriate description. I spent ages looking at the different options available, with the sole aim of getting the biggest, gnarliest looking weapon I could find. What I ended up with was a bright yellow  and red affair, with a pump at its base allowing you to increase the water pressure inside to man canon levels. Red and yellow were obviously chosen because they relate to the colours used in nature to other creatures that the creature sporting them is unpleasant in either nature or taste. It was in no way whatsoever because it was the only colour scheme I could lay my hands on.

So in the morning I pondered on my course of action, and slung my camera in my bag before heading out to the main street in Silom without my gun, leaving that behind as not to draw attention to myself. As I wanted to get some pictures of the coming days events, I wanted to see whether I could slip by the water fights unscathed, hopeful that i might be granted the same kind of special privileges or allowances that are often shown to war photographers in the field. At 11 am there wasn't much sign of the carnage I had been warned of, and I slipped down the road and into the Bon Au Pan at the corner of the Lumpini end of the street for a light breakfast and morning coffee, watching the opening parade of beauty queens in the air conditioned comfort, raised up slightly from the street below and safely shielded behind ceiling to floor glass.

After the ceremony had finished, I went outside to get a few quick pics, watching the people outside spray each other with the light mist that comes from the handheld bottles more often used for watering indoor plants. but this is where the dainty approach ended. Pretty soon carnage descended.
Under the BTS station, a Red Bull stage housed a DJ playing thumping tunes and girls dancing on stage. At certain points the crowd would shout and fire their pistols in the air, driven insane by the man on the decks and bouncing like crazy as the music dictated. Past here it was soon apparent that my non antagonistic approach wasn't making any difference to being a target for water, infact it was probably to the contrary. A 6ft 1 foreigner, unarmed? The only thing missing from me was a painted bullseye.

I made it up to the first junction, taking hits from all angles, from guns, hoses and small buckets before finally taking a pasting from a guy wearing a smile 3 sizes too big for his face. That was enough for me, and I put the camera away safely in the bag and headed back to the hostel to get armed. It wasn't going to stop me getting wet of course, but at least I would get the satisfaction of being able to give back as good as, or better than I was getting.

Back at the hostel, I tried to work out the mechanics of trying to wear my weapon to allow me to both carry and shield my camera from the elements and fire off both items at will when required. My gun strap got hoisted over my neck allowing my gun to hang to my left and be fired by my right thumb, leaving my right hand to be completely free to handle the camera which was set up to focus and lock onto the object which I pointed. Less time exposed, the less chance of damage to the camera but also the more spontaneous I was going to have to be when getting the picture. This was going to be a challenge.

I got soaked before I got back to the main street, but at least this time I could get a shot back, startling some with the power of the shot that was coming back their way, dissuading others that were eyeing me up when they saw me smiling back at them manically with my red nozzle pointing their direction. but still, the onslaught was almost relentless. Water came from ever direction as I searched for shelter and shade in the 40 degree heat, the only respite from both coming as I sat down to check my sugars and eat some food from a stall. The rest of the time I was firing, or being fired at. Soaking or being soaked. Laughing at, being laughed at or just laughing because. It was genuinely the most fun I have had for the longest time. I stayed out a couple of hours before I called it a day, retiring to the hostel to let my muscles seize up again. 

In the evening I attempted to get to the massage parlour I been a couple of night before, getting right to the door before a young lady appeared and just emptied small bottle of water down my top. Wetter than I had been 2 seconds before I made my way inside and indicated to the lady at the counter which parts of me were in pain so she could tell me what I needed. I was then led upstair, given a pair of giant waisted pyjama and left to get changed. holding up the pants defeatedly when the masseuse came up to begin my treatment. Amusedly she pointed out the string at the back of the bottoms, which should be at the front to enable them to be fastened. I spun them around, tightened them up and led down on the matt as directed, her english limited to just enough to be able to direct me accordingly. 

My thighs and calves were agony, especially when she applied anything other than the gentlest of presses, and this was obvious enough through my facial expression that she soon started pressing and working those areas more gently than she had done initially, after a little while she ordered me to turn over and set about working the back of my legs, pulling and moving them about and getting more movement out of them then they had been able to do for a while. At this point, feeling the immediate benefits of the magic she was working, I made the mistake of asking for an extra hour in order to maximise the benefits. being led on my front, I didn't realise the bar that ran directly above.

Gently she placed one foot on the back of my thigh, before placing the rest of her weight on her other and shifting her weight from side to side, in the same way a cat does when prepping your leg for a nap. She then proceeded to moved up and down my legs, onto my calves bringing such extreme pain that I pressed my head into the pillow to stop myself showing any signs of pain. I still have no idea how she was doing what she was doing, how she was pulling my leg up with one while still standing on the other still balancing on thigh, but despite the pain I could tell it was working. After my legs she proceed up my back, pressing down on my chest, standing lightly on my shoulders before stepping back and pressing down onto my chest again. It was starting to feel like a bit of work out.

Before I finished she sat me up and sat behind me, wrapping her leg around me one side, and then the other in between twisting and pulling me into angles my body has never been twisted and pulled. She was seemingly not worried about the multiple cracks a groans that my body gave out, and surprisingly neither was I, occasionally giving out a relieved laughter when it was apparent that after everything she was doing, I was still able to move. More than that though, immediately after she had finished and I had changed, I could feel just how much difference the last 2 hours had made. It was like being touched by a miracle worker.

You have to give credit where credit it due and in my time on this planet I have battled with and punches off people much bigger in size and weight than the diminutive frame that this lady possessed, but I have honestly never felt so much pure power from anyone, nothing has ever come close. Just absolutely awesome.

I left the hostel at way past 10pm and started heading back to the hostel, moving freer and easier than I had for a very long time. Surprisingly outside I managed to stay dry for about 4 steps before some saw fit to pour a bowl of water over my head, continuing to do so until I was soaked back through. At this point in time though, as weird as it sounds, I really didn't care too much.

I was amazed that I was able to walk

Park Life - Bangkok 7/4/2016

Again into Bangkok.

I had booked myself into a different hostel than the one in which I had previously stayed, primarily tdue to the overwhelming tiredness I was now feeling and the close proximity of it to the Silom Sala Daeng BTS station which was easy to get to sing the train links from the Airport. I pre-booked a couple of nights there, intending to crash out before booking something away from the city for the last 3 weeks of the trip, but after struggling to decide on a suitable final destination over successive days, I decided to just stop here for a bit longer, take the pressure off that I placed on myself and hope that inspiration would strike given time. Another good reason for staying was that the 13th of April would signal the arrival of the Thai New Year, and bring with it the Songkran water festival which was one the things that I had jotted down on my list of "things to see and do" in the pre planning stages of the trip. Now I happened to find myself in the right area at the right time, something that doesn't usually happen.

I spent a few days walking around, trying out a few new things with the camera and seeking out shelter as temperatures soared from 34 degrees or so on the day I arrived, to 39 and 40 by afternoons 3 and four days later. In the evening when the temperature had eased to the upper mid 30's, I retired to Lumpini Park to enjoy a walk and see just how people used the park at the end of the working day. A full loop of the park is marked out on the wide paths as being 2.5 km and there were no shortage of people going around. Solo runners, solo walkers, pairs and groups,  family, friends, all consumed in their own personal challenges with a shared spirit providing energy to those whose legs needed it most, overlooked by those on pieces of gym equipment found at places along the route.

Elsewhere in the park music blared and people danced in workouts which could switch from disjointed mass movement into spontaneous synchronicity and back again with regular ease with people coming and going, a rotating mass of movement. There was nothing to segment those who wanted to join, all that was required was the willingness to participate, and the sense of energy is contagious.

My mind was finally starting to think starting to formulate plans of where I could head after here. I thought of Chaing Rai in Northern Thailand and other destinations in the South West, consulting with Vicky from afar as to what she thought of the areas in question, both positive and negative.  I would be lying if i said that the options I was thinking of didn't have any element of appeal, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my options were lacking that "and now I'm done" factor which would close this thing off. Each time I looked on how I would travel between certain points on a map, my mind would always come back to the same niggling thought. "What about Ha Long Bay?"

The potential problem here was that having just left Vietnam, I wasn't sure about the rules of re-entry, with different pieces of internet mis-information lending themselves to the possibility of my not being allowed to re-enter the country within 30 days of leaving. I decided to walk to the Vietnam embassy and see if I could get some clarification before risking booking some flights and I was informed that as my previous entry was covered by a full 1 month visa (that I had paid for), I would be able to go back for 15 days at no additional cost. I would just need  a flight booked out of the country within the permitted timescale to be allowed back in, opening up the possibility of the return my mind had been jostling with.

The following evening I returned to the park, eager to take advantage of the positive vibe I had picked up on the the evening before and join in with a run around it's perimeter. Having not done any meaningful exercise in more than 5 months and with the late afternoon heat still up at 36 degrees the idea seemed daft at the time, but I reasoned that if I could even just walk the circuit and perspire a little, it would be a significant mark in the continued recovery of my long standing foot injury. 30 minutes, 2 laps and 5km (3 miles) later I had sweated loads, drank as much and enjoyed a jog more than I ever thought possible. I usually passionately despise running because of it's plain monotony, but here it had been a completely different experience.  On my own I doubt I would have managed a quarter of that distance, let alone run the full lot.

So it's a little disheartening to hear that, at the same time I am discovering the benefits that exercise in a group environment can bring, in the UK a small council met, and decided by a 6 to 4 majority to place a charge on, and thus effectively end a organised event in one of it's parks designed to encourage just that. Spouting nonsense that it would be wrong for others in community to have to pay for the it's upkeep, but maybe forgetting that these spaces are there to be a benefit for all, and maybe just as importantly. the average uk citizen already gets stung for around 50% of their income on tax in one form or another. If you think about the amount of money actually accrued by the U.K government and various councils from the people of the country, more facilities should be being made available for people benefit from, not extra charges being levied. It's an embarrassment to see this sort of attitude again coming to the front in the UK, especially when I have witnessed so many countries, many of them poorer than mine back home, actively provide facilities for people to use in order to benefit different aspects of their peoples lives.

http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-bristol-36030582

By the time I climbed the stairs back at the hostel, my legs were starting to stiffen up severely, calling into question the wisdom of my actions just a short time earlier. The truth is those first steps back on the mend are never going to be easy, and the discomfort in my legs was being kept a little bit at bay by the feeling of having (finally) come through a physical test that had resulted in only strong to moderate pain.

3 bottles of beer were playing their part in that too.