42. Hong Kong

In my original (and slightly optimistic) plan I rode my bicycle all the way to Hong Kong, but time that passed too quickly, changes in the route, making detours and staying too long in all the wonderful places made me stop in my secondary target Hanoi. I was still going to Hong Kong, however, to meet up with my friend Mikael. The plane touched down after about an hour, roughly 500 times faster than riding a bicycle.

Even though it has been well over a decade since we last met, it felt like it was just nine years ago and we immediately got along.

Hong Kong felt like a blend of New York and San Francisco, at least their respective Chinatowns, and I fell in love with the city right away. It helps when you are guided through the bar areas by a local who, by a coincidence, also likes to drink beer.

It’s a compact city and I wandered the streets for photo opportunities. I didn’t see a single cyclist, probably due to the incredibly steep streets, many which had escalators instead of sidewalks. It was refreshing to be in a modern and developed city again, the first real one since I left Chiang Mai six weeks ago. The abundance and variety of food is a strong argument for market economy. If you don’t believe me I challenge you to do spinning passes while eating nothing but noodle soup three times a day for a month.

We went to the Happy Valley Racecourse for some excitement and, of course, beers. With a jug in my bloodstream I became brave enough to gamble and took a look at the stats. Three of the horses were sure bets, they had far better statistics than the opponents. I bet 50 HK dollars on each of the three, if any of them won I would triple my 150 dollar bet. You can see where this is going, so suffice to say all three horses were in the leading positions for 90% of the race. Of course it was the first 90% of the race, not the last. The winning horse won its first race ever and by the cheer from the audience I could tell that there were more than a few who had guessed this unlikely outcome.

Gambling is not how I’ll be rich, and I already knew that from years of Black Jack losses.

To steep for cycling.

 Charlize, Mikaels wife to be, is ordering some food.

 Newspaper salesman inspecting his goods.

 Hong Kong skyline from Kowloon.

Street in Kowloon.

Another street.

 Double decked tram.

Hong Kong street.

Race track with all the wrong horses.

41. The Awesomers and the beauty of nature

Businessmen, programmers, salesmen and Iuna. They are the think tank club calling themselves the Awesomers and once a month they meet trying to coach each other in their personal and professional life. They are a diverse and fascinating group of people of different ages, nationalities and stages in life. They are also completely crazy. There is a thin line between genius and insanity.

They had since long booked a two day cruise in Halong Bay and I tagged along. Even though the Vietnam weather still was overcast and the temperature a horribly cold 20 degrees Celsius the beauty of this place is absolutely stunning. My camera worked hard as I tried to capture everything I saw, smelled and felt. I failed as usual, maybe I need to buy a more expensive camera. Yes, I think that’s it.

After a few hours of cruising around Halong Bay the ship threw anchor in an area obviously set up for tourists. Locals, who seem to be living out here permanently in small house boats, were rowing around in their rowing boats trying to sell snacks and soda for outrageous prices. This particular area is probably popular due to a grand cave embedded in one of the limestone cliffs. The day ended with 30 minutes of canoeing, a nice experience much because of the life-jacket, which finally managed to warm me up a little bit. 20 degrees is freezing cold!

In the evening the beers started to pour, beer is really a common denominator among almost all human beings, and the number one Asian past time activity began: Karaoke! I managed to hold my own in this group, for some reason it seems like we who have computer related jobs are slightly worse singers than others, but that is just a personal observation, not a fact.

The Awesomers are brainstorming.

 Cruise ships on their way.

 From the railing.

 Click the picture for a larger view.

Can you feel it?

 Cave.

It's pretty big.

 View from the cave entrance. Click picture for larger view.

 Bearded man in kayak.

40. Million Dong Baby

My feelings were a mix of joy and sorrow when I rode in to Hanoi. I have been cycling through Singapore, along the western coast of peninsular Malaysia, the entire length of Thailand, over the mountains in northern Laos and part of the infamous Highway number 1 in Vietnam, but this is my final destination by bike. During my fantastic journey I have met some incredible people, and one of them is waiting for me in Hanoi.

I had stopped for the night in Ninh Binh, famous for its beautiful surroundings. While it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as much of the scenery I have experienced in Laos and other places, it was a welcomed change from an otherwise dull ride on Highway 1.

An old man having a flat tire on his bicycle waved me over. We talked a bit, had a smoke, and I gave him my repair kit which he was very grateful of. I left him, hoping that this good deed gave me enough karma, that faith is fair and I wouldn’t get a flat tire on the last day. A couple of kilometres later I realized he probably would have needed a pump as well. It was a stupid oversight that brought my karma back to normal.

Hanoi, celebrating its 1000 year anniversary, is referred to as the Paris of the Orient by my Lonely Planet guide book. I was trying to figure out why while I was dodging a million scooters each driven by a completely insane driver, but I couldn’t find the resemblance. I somehow survived the traffic and found the hotel where Iunia had made reservations. She smelled so good that I realized the first thing I must do is to throw away all of my clothes and buy a new set. I’m going to miss my Smith & Wesson shirt.

With Iunias company Hanoi became a great city. Finding clothes turned out to be harder than expected though, in Asia even shirts of size XL are too small.

My darling bike had fulfilled her purpose and it was time to loose her. Merchants in Hanoi are organised by street, there is a street for shoe stores, a street where everyone is selling bags et cetera, and we tried to find the bicycle street. It brought us outside of the tourist area but the address with the supposed store didn’t even have a building. We ended up at local café having some coffee, beers and a very interesting prune juice.

With some local help I found the right street. The first bicycle shop discovered a crack in the front fork; my darling was injured! They refused to buy her and I went on to the next shop, right next door. They immediately found the crack and offered me an outrageous 1.2 million Dongs. I tried to bargain, I begged, I got down on my bare knees and cried (not really) but to no avail. I had to accept the fact of getting ten percent of what I paid for the bike just three months earlier.

The rest of the week was spent relaxing, sightseeing and, to Iunias dismay, eating a lot of fattening food.

We also happened to down a countless number of Gin & Tonics.


Distance:
65 km from Thanh Hoa to Ninh Binh.
93 km from Ninh Binh to Hanoi.
Total: 4494 km. Since I’ve been riding other bikes and short distances not accounted for, I’m going to round off to a nice even number.

Total: 4500 kilometres.

Outside Ninh Binh.

 The first and only tunnel I passed on the trip.

Hoan Kiem Lake in central Hanoi.

Snake wine. I didn't try it.

 Sleeping cyclo drivers.

Ho Chi Minh stated his wish to be cremated. They didn't. He is in there as good as new.

Typical street.

Chaos.

More chaos!

39. Vietnam Wet

I reached the Nam Phao border checkpoint at 11:35. Unfortunately, for me, the guards began their ninety minutes lunch break at 11:30. The rest of the world seemed to know this because for the entire time I was the only one waiting. I took the opportunity to eat myself and had my billionth bowl of noodle soup. Those chopsticks are now a natural extension of my hand and I eat like a pro. I do long for something else than noodle soup, though.

Just before lunch break ended a bus full of Lao workers appeared, and they all managed to cut in front of me. Contrary to what I have read I didn’t have to pay anything to exit Laos, and the entrance fee into Vietnam was an affordable 20.000 Dong (virtually nothing). There were no problems with me not having a Visa, no questions were asked and no baggage was checked. It still took an hour to pass through and it was after two o’clock when I entered Vietnam, with 100 km to go to Vinh.

Entering another country is exiting, especially by bicycle. Usually there is a subtle but distinct difference in the atmosphere, but when I got into Vietnam the difference was not subtle. The temperature immediately dropped from 35 to 22 degrees Celsius and it started to rain. This change literally happened at the border.

The checkpoint is located at the summit of a mountain range and I guess the colder and moister air from the ocean stays in Vietnam. Even though my glasses fogged and the visibility was close to zero it felt good to be out of the heat and I was smiling all 18 kilometres down the mountain, assuming the weather would get better as I got down to sea level. I really should stop to assume things, because it was pouring all the way to Vinh.

(Yes mister driver, I know you are passing me, you don’t have to use your horn.)

Traffic is now how I imagined traffic would be in South East Asia. The Vietnamese drivers are completely insane and the rule is simple; yield or die. If something happens it is not by accident, because it is not an accident when two kamikaze drivers do a chicken race and happens to crash into each other. If people drive like this their entire life and still live to see the age of 40, they are incredibly lucky.

(Yes, I am aware that you and a thousand others are driving on the road, you don’t have to honk at me.)

The weather is not the only thing that has changed. The architecture is radically different and for the first time I am seeing churches everywhere but almost no wats at all! I guess it’s an inheritance from the French colonial period.

(Yes, I know you've got a big truck, just like all the other big trucks on the road. Stop honking!)

Suddenly I became aware that I was followed. A kid on a rusty bike with a plank as a handlebar was pedalling behind me. I increased the pace a little but he had no trouble keeping up. I don’t know for how long he had been following me, but he hung on for another 20 kilometres. I gave him thumbs up and he gave me a great smile back.

(You think I didn’t hear you the first three times? Stop honking!)

Two cute girls on a scooter pulled up alongside of me and after the usual questions; “Where you from?”, “How old are you?”, “Are you married?”, they invited me to stay with them for the night. This is the exact moment in time where I did a terrible mistake; I turned them down. It could have been another great opportunity to get new local friends, but at the time I was exhausted, soaked to the skin, completely covered in mud and I did not feel like to socialize. All I wanted was to get to a decent hotel and be by myself. They said they were happy to have met me and drove off into the distance. I had 50 kilometres to go and already regretted what I had just done.

(No, I can’t go further to the right, I am already cycling on the shoulder. Honking won’t help! Stop it!)

Finally in Vinh I treated myself to a more upscale hotel than I am used to. Vinh itself is an extraordinarily boring city, the most exciting event was when I was lying naked on top of the bed, in my room located at the 11th floor, and a female window cleaner walked by on the outside.

(You are allowed to pass without honking, thank you very much. By the way, novelty car horns are lame. Stop honking!)

Most people smile and yell hello, but unlike the other countries I’ve been to so far a fair number just hold out their hand and says the magic word; “Money!”. Three guys on a scooter stopped me and wanted money and my cell phone. I gave them some cigarettes, but then they wanted the entire pack. I got annoyed and told them what they were going to get if they didn’t stop bothering me. They didn’t speak English but to be sure to avoid any misunderstandings I said it in Swedish. An older man wanted to trade his broken rusty bike and he seemed to get pretty insulted when I said that I never would give up my sweet baby for trash like that.

(Stop honking! Stop honking! Stop honking!)

As soon as I stopped in Thanh Hoa a guy with a guitar walked up to me and said the magic word. When I said no he pointed at my gear and again demanded money. I pointed at his can, full of money, and told him to give it to me. I’m cycling, I deserve it! He muttered something but left me alone.

Thanh Hoa turned out to be far more interesting than Vinh which is fascinating in itself, since both cities were completely rebuilt after the Vietnam War. I guess it’s important to hire the right people the next time you plan to build a city from scratch.


Distance:
135 km from Lak Xao to Vinh, Vietnam. (33 km to the Nam Phao border checkpoint).
143 km from Vinh to Thanh Hoa.
Total: 4336 km.

Border checkpoint. Laos: Hot and sunny. Vietnam: Cold and rainy.

Down hill with zero visibility.

 The horrible, horrible road to Vinh.

French architecture?

 Công viên Trung tâm thành phõ Vinh, or "Central Park". Completely deserted, probably because of the entrance fee...

Supposedly a Tequila Sunrise.

This is as scenic as it gets between Vinh and Thanh Hoa.

Thanh Hoa at night.

 Bicycle on a boat.

38. Mao on my own

I was lying in the bed in Lak Xao, looking up at the mould infested ceiling. I had just had a makeshift shower using the cold water from the sink and I felt pretty clean. But I also had a strange feeling of being very, very far away from everything.

Petter and I split up two days before. The road out of Vientiane was not remotely as interesting as the road into the city and it was supposed to continue like that almost all the way south through Laos. I was about to leave Highway 13 in a couple of days anyway to cross over to Vietnam, but when Petter suffered from three flat tires within an hour he got bored of this stretch of road and caught a bus from Pakxan down to Savannakhet. I continued alone.

After 20 kilometres I took a quick break at a scenic point overlooking the Mekong, when I heard someone shouting for me. A dozen people of all ages were having a New Years party and they invited me. The fact that the New Year is a week away didn’t seem to bother them and this is the third New Year I am celebrating in just a couple of months.

No one spoke any English but I still managed to tell them about myself and my trip and they in turn told me they were tobacco farmers. A few of the girls made it perfectly clear that they wouldn’t mind marrying a felang. They wouldn’t mind at all.

When they realized I wasn’t interested in committing myself to any of them they started to ask if I would like to “tap-tap”. At first I didn’t understand, but universal sign language quickly made their intentions clear. Hard liquor and willing girls is usually a good combination but as I am a timid gentleman I respectfully declined, which caused everyone to break out in laughter. I wonder what kind of reaction I would have got if I accepted? Probably exactly the same.

Drinking vodka on a Monday morning might not be the best idea (but I can think of worse things) and when I left the group after a couple of hours I was seriously mao. For the first time I am cycling intoxicated and I had to concentrate hard not to swerve all over the road. Luckily traffic is very light, and Laos is one of the few countries that does not have a limit on the blood alcohol concentration to operate a vehicle. I made frequent stops to eat and to drink trying to sober up, and after a short while I felt better. Unfortunately the hangover comes hard and quick when you are cycling in a temperature that is reaching for 40 degree Celsius.

The next day I took a left turn towards Vietnam. After just a couple of minutes the landscape that has been flat, dusty and dry since Vientiane is replaced by lush rainforest and an amazing scenery. Highway number 8 in Laos is one of the most beautiful roads I have ever travelled, or at least cycled. There were a few hard climbs, but for most of the time the road followed the valley and I was surrounded by breathtaking limestone mountains.

I bought some candy in the only store I found that did not sell cell phones or scooter parts and I was unwrapping the individually wrapped pieces while looking at the serious growth of mould. I had very little cash left, ATMs are very rare in Laos, and I was hoping that I had enough to get out of Laos and into Vietnam. I also hoped that the information I’ve got about Swedes not needing a Visa was correct. If any of those assumptions were wrong, I was going to have a lot of extra work to do and a lot of extra miles to cover.

But that is a problem to be solved tomorrow. Now I eat candy.


Distance:
95 km from Vientiane to Thabok.
64 km from Thabok to Pakxan. Actually just 57 km, but I cycled around Pakxan for a while.
89 km from Pakxan to Vieng Kham.
103 km from Vieng Kham to Lak Xao including 4 km riding around looking for a store.
Total: 4058 km.

Self portrait in a dusty landscape.

This is actual color. Thabok is a red and dusty place.

Party people!

Highway number 8.

Fantastic scenery!

Limestone.

Breathtaking.

Admiring the view.

Precisely 4000 kilometres.

The most beautiful road sign I have ever seen.

Pictures simply don’t do the view justice.

37. Vientiane

Getting drunk and making a fool out of myself is great fun, I do it all the time back home, but that is not why I am cycling through Asia and I was longing to get back into the saddle and get to the real Laos again.

“Highway” 13 from Vang Vieng south to Vientiane starts off as a wonderful winding road with gentle hills, and the ride is great. As before, the kids line up along the road waiting for you to give them a high five and they cry out in laughter regardless if you hit or miss. People of all ages greet you and you keep waving your arms all over the place. While Thailand might be The Land of Smiles, Laos is definitely The Land of Joy and Laughter. Even the dogs are happy, I haven't been chased since I left Thailand.

I was lucky enough to find a bicycle shop in Vang Vieng that could replace my spoke and my wheel was whole again for a whopping 70 km, when my fourth spoke snapped. It is starting to become a laughing matter and I just shrugged my shoulders and continued as nothing had happened.

The heat has returned. The past weeks in the mountains have been relatively cool but now we are once again riding in a 35 degree heat. A quick swim in the Lik River refreshed us a little and probably did wonders to my smelly bicycle pants.

Halfway to Vientiane we left the highland and the mountains behind us, but it was not only the scenery that changed. The road got wider and straight, the traffic increased, the huts turned into houses and villas, in some cases mansions, the villages turned into towns and the stores suddenly had a decent selection of goods. The amount of livestock and poultry roaming the highway remained the same though. It is quite clear that the people in this area are far better off than the locals I have encountered so far in Laos.

Petters stomach has not yet returned to a normal status, he never got the miracle medicine that I got from the Luang Prabang hospital, and after a hundred kilometres he was completely drained of energy. Our plan was to reach Vientiane in one day but as he got worse we started to keep an eye out for a guesthouse. With just 14 kilometres to go we finally saw a sign pointing down a badly paved road and we hoped the guesthouse wouldn’t be too far off the highway. After a kilometre on this road, we had questioned our decision several times already, a number of neon signs appear. We have stumbled upon the Vang Nam Phueng Entertainment Complex, a resort with restaurants, bars, karaoke and a club!

We had a nice dinner, although it took some advanced sign language to order, and then went into the club. We expected it to be empty since it was a Thursday night, but it was full with Lao people coming from who knows where drinking and dancing to western dance music. We hung out with three girls and a guy who didn’t speak any English, but that didn’t stop them from refilling our beers and the guy insured us that the girls was in love with us. It didn’t appear that they were, but that is what he said.

I had been told Vientiane was a small and boring town, I was therefore expecting something like Torup, so I was surprised by the size of it when the ride into the city was several kilometres long on a busy road with the most chaotic traffic I’ve experienced in Asia, which is to say a lot.

I did my nowadays usual routine of finding a bicycle shop to fix my broken spoke. They promised to fix it in a couple of hours but noted that it was not one, but two, snapped spokes. That is a total of five, girls and boys, which would be exactly five more spokes than I’ve broken before in my entire life. By now the best decision would most likely to be to get a new rear wheel, but no, I’ve almost completed the trip and as long as I can ride the bike it doesn’t matter.

Walking around and experiencing Vientiane was nice despite the heat. The mix of Buddhist architecture and Communist buildings is interesting to say the least.

Laos is definitely a country with extreme contrasts.


Distance:
144 km from Vang Vieng to Vang Nam Phueng.
14 km from Vang Nam Phueng to Vientiane.
Total: 3707 km.

Working in the field with a vista.

It’s the dry season, obviously.


 

 Taking a break and eating cookies. Oreos, to be exact.

 Handsome man takes a refreshing dip in Nam Lik under the Hinheup Bridge.

A quick break in Lak52. Yes, Lak52 is the name of the town.

Most road signs are sponsored by Tiger beer, but almost all are showing the wrong distance. This one is off by 10 km, it is actually just 24 km to Vientiane. Maybe that is why Beerlao still has 98% of the market. Or maybe it is because Beerlao tastes so much better.

One of the coolest clubs I’ve been to is located in the middle of nowhere, in Laos.

Happiness is to eat meatballs, potatoes and lingonberries at The Swedish Pizza and Bakery!

Me in front of the Patouxay monument, built by cement the US gave Laos to build an airport. I guess you can never have enough monuments, but who really needs an airport? It is Petters bike, mine is at the shop.

Pha That Luang Stupa.

The National Assembly, a quite typical communist building. Proud of it, too.