Mudlarks....Or Not

The sun came out on Saturday, suddenly making the idea of frisking about the countryside sound rather appealing. Almost twelve hours of sleep the night before had rebooted my perkiness levels too.

But by the time we got out to our chosen bucolic spot, the sun had finished teasing us and retreated to put his feet up and have a cup of tea. The river bank got muddier and muddier, the stiles more difficult to get over, and as my energy levels went into a vertiginous decline the sky took on a steely hue and a bitter wind blew up. The landscape looked so bleak that by the time we decided to turn back, I wouldn't have been surprised if we'd stumbled upon some Dickensian urchins living in a shack.

It was one of those moments, which if you put into a story people would slate it as unbelievable overkill - look we can see she's exhausted and feels like the piffling distance back to the car might as well be 10 miles, we don't need to see her struggling to remove her wellington boot from a patch of particularly glutinous mud, and as for the general sense of desolation, come on! What I was thinking, however, was more like, OK universe, YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME.

Anyway, check out slices of the world this week.

In The Country

Tired and cliche-ridden, brevity is the soul of wit...

I sampled some delicious, still slightly sour blackberries before wondering what, exactly, this is...

We met this sow who had some tiny, guinea pig sized piglets who were cavorting in her sty.

And the end is nigh...

Other worlds.

Polo Cloud

Mmmm minty fresh clouds..........

Skywatching all over the world.

Beijing: Jinshanling to Simatai Great Wall

During the our break for the National Day holiday, we hiked along the Great Wall, choosing the most section described by Lonely Planet as 'invigorating', presumably because you feel lucky to be alive at the end of it! It is the least touristy and least renovated section of the Wall. We hiked for about 10km, although I swear that with the about of up-and-downing we were doing it felt like twice the distance!

At this point, I had only been in China for a little over a week, and my friends had been here for a month. When I look back on that first trip to Beijing, it's strange to remember how timid we all were, and how strange and confusing the city was to us, when now we think nothing about skedadling around it by ourselves. The rest of the post is adapted from my journal.


It's a strange feeling (like the Pyramids at Giza) of amazement at being there, rather than looking at a photo and being overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time (one is still one's quotidian self after all).

The lushness of colourness and the freshness of the air were remarkable. I think I would appreciate the big, sweeping vistas even more after spending most of the last seven months in big cities.

The views were beautiful, and there was the feeling of oddness at walking over something so old, that so many others have tramped along too. Wondering what the unfortunates who made the wall (legends have it that the wall is filled with the bones of workers who died) thought of it, and how soldiers coped with the vertiginous ascents and descents when wearing armour.

We'd stop to rest in the watchtowers. The one's that were more restored gave welcome shade too, although we'd have to fight off the vendors trying to sell us water or beer. (Beer?! Are some of the people walking this thing suicidal?)

When the Chinese say unrestored they certainly mean it - I nearly cried walking down here. Apart from fear of heights, another annoyance was the hawkers that seemed to stalk their prey at the most strenous ascents - seriously lady, do you think I'm going to buy your mangy postcards when I'm wondering whether it's falling down and breaking my neck or a heart attack that's going to finish me off?

The lake at the end of our hike, and guess who didn't enjoy the suspension bridge! My friends took a zip line across the water, but I walked down because I think that otherwise I might have actually passed out from fear.

Take a day trip somewhere new.

Saigon

stripey Saigon streets

Arriving in Saigon was a slightly strange experience because, although it was evidently an Asian city, the European style of the architecture coupled with the way the super skinny buildings are all painted pastel colours reminded me strongly of Lampeter, the Welsh town where I went to university. The laid back traveller hippy-ish vibe added to the whole effect as well. Perhaps this is why I took to Saigon immediately. I know it has officially been called Ho Chi Minh City since 1975, but I never once heard it referred to as anything other than Saigon when I was there. So that’s what I’ll stick with. It’s easier on the spell check too.

shabby chic a la saigon

My favourite way to get to know a city is by walking round it, so I was glad that central Saigon is compact enough to get around on by foot. Although it did mean that on my way from our hostel to the Reunification Palace and the Saigon Notre Dame Basilica I had to decline the offer of a motorbike taxi on every other street corner. The drivers, although naturally vociferous, were also friendly: my ‘No thanks yous’ were met with smiles and ‘Ok’s, and I was never hounded down the street. I even felt a bit guilty for not taking one, but it was so enjoyable wending my way through the back streets, occasionally happening upon wonderful, shabbily elegant buildings that no-one has yet thought to gentrify.



no wonder my passport stamp says 'socialist republic of vietnam'

The road to the Reunification Palace, lined with trees and communist flags, was more attractive than the Palace itself which is a spectacularly ugly concrete box. There is a wooded park between the Palace and the Basilica, which offered a welcome shady place to pause.

A couple came up to me and asked me to take their photo, and then we fell into conversation. They turned out to be cousins, on holiday in Saigon from Malaysia, and we chatted pleasantly about nothing in particular for a while. Then they asked me to come to a party at their friend’s house, and I kept having to politely decline, without actually coming out and saying ‘No-one but a maniac would wander off to the house of two strangers she just met that could be serial killers.’

saigon notre dame basilica

When I got to the Basilica, they were starting a service so I couldn’t go inside. Instead, I peered in through the grate and then started on my way back. This involved crossing what seemed to be the main road in the city by foot, without the aid of pedestrian crossings, via the grandest roundabout I’ve ever seen. I got stranded for five minutes on it, before bolding taking my life in my hands and dodging the buses and scooters to get to the other side.

roundabouts are taken seriously here

I tried my first Vietnamese curry that night, which seemed (unsurprisingly) to be quite similar to Thai, but less spicy. There were shoot type things in it (lemongrass perhaps? I’m a bit fuzzy on south-east Asian cuisine) that I chewed on once and then spat out in horror. The rest of it was delicious though, and it came with a free happy hour starter of garlic bread. Weird combination I know, but garlic bread is one of the Western foods I miss the most in China, and I was going to take every opportunity to stuff my face with it.

Lantau and Lamma Islands, Hong Kong

Tian Tan Budhha Statue

A woke up early to take her parents to the airport, and I amazingly managed to sleep through everyone else getting up, packing and leaving. After swapping rooms, I headed out to Lantau Island to meet A at an underground station and then visit the Tian Tan Buddha Statue, the world’s largest outdoor seated Buddha statue.

I was pleasantly surprised by the underground: it was spotlessly clean, incredibly easy to navigate and buy tickets, quick, contained bakeries, where I was able to buy delicious sausage rolls, and devoid of the unseemly, violent scrummaging to get on first that makes travelling by public transport in mainland China so stressful.

giving gods

When we got to the statue, we were faced with a slog up a huge flight of steps, which we broke by taking photos. Once at the Buddha, we gazed, got into trouble for accidentally wandering into the area you have to have a ticket for, and took some photos, including some quite funny ones of A possibly slightly sacrilegiously posing next to the statues of the minor gods (well that’s what I thought they were anyway) bringing gifts, offering the gift of Pringles. Sour cream and chive flavour too. Not a gift to be sniffed at by anyone, in my opinion.

ferry to Lamma Island

We wanted to know which was the best route to take to get to Lamma Island from the Lantau Buddha, as we wanted to have time to have a walk on the island before sunset. The ladies at the ticketing desk were very helpful, showing us two different ways to get there. We had to make our way to Hong Kong Island’s Central Pier, and then take a ferry from there to Lamma, which we duly did. Unlike the catamaran ferries we took to and from Macau, the Lamma ferry had a half open top deck. I entertained myself during the trip by staggering about taking various photos, trying not to fall overboard in the process, and enjoying the wonderful tang of sea air.

Lamma Island

We sailed into the picturesque little port of Sok Kwu Wan, where fisherman docked their boats and sorted their catch at tiny little floating harbours. Unsurprisingly, the seafood restaurants on shore stank of fish, so I hurried through them, pausing only to stock up on one essential: ice cream. The trail to Yung Shue Wan, at the other end of the island is very easy going, and takes you along the coast and through several small villages. It was hard to believe that this quiet, quaint, laid back, car free island was only half an hour away from the seething polyglot metropolis. We watched the sun setting over the sea, a stunning view somewhat marred by the coal refinery on an opposite island, and caught the ferry back to Hong Kong Island.

Yung Shue Wan, Lamma Island