Back in Bangkok

 Here we are then, briefly back in Bangkok.

There aren't many sights here that we haven't already seen and savaged, but JB happened upon the National Museum of Thailand, so after breakfast we set off.

Firstly, I should point out that it's not your typical museum. It used to be a palace, so the exhibits are housed in swanky former-royal luxury.

Secondly, it's actually very good.

Although.......How many golden thrones and/or chariots does the average South East Asian monarch need?

I gave up counting after 4 of each.....

Wanton excess. And a bit show-offy too if you ask me. (Admittedly so far, no one has).

The rest of the museum is mainly devoted to Thai arts and crafts and lots and lots of images of the Buddha.  And a few Vishnus thrown in the interests of religious balance.

Obviously, none of this was entirely unexpected.  After all, it's not our first Siamese rodeo.

However.

I turned a corner and was confronted by this:

It's nothing more than historical filth.

I know for a fact that my mum reads this blog, so, sorry mum.......

These two didn't seem any  more impressed than me....

Still  slightly aghast, we fled the smutty museum and boarded a river boat for a restorative cruise. 

It was lovely. Here's a view of the Bangkok skyline rising majestically through the smog.

The Great Escape

 

After 12 days in Vietnam, we were more than ready to leave . JB reckoned that remnants of Agent Orange in the atmosphere were giving him 'brain fug'.

Indeed,  for the last 3 days, he's been running on his auxiliary brain, which, although obviously still larger than a normal one is way below his usual capacity.

I think it's fair to say that the country hasn't really lived up to the Vietnamese Tourist Board  hype.

What they promised:

What we actually got:

Of course  it's not all like that. There are some scruffy bits of town too......

We hatched our escape plan over several days, carefully covering all eventualities. 

Tensions were understandably high then, as we boarded the (daytime) sleeper bus to Ho Chi Minh.

8 hours later, we arrived,  and endured a somewhat hellish taxi ride under cover of darkness to our overnight accommodation . 

The next morning, still fearful that we'd be forced to stay,  (we still had 2 days left on our visas, )we arrived at the airport.

Check in went OK. 

Then came the news we were dreading. The flight had been mysteriously delayed. Surely we wouldn't be thwarted at this late stage.

Finally, the plane arrived, we boarded, and then......

We were free!!!

Next stop, Bangkok.

Actual scenes of our desperate bid for freedom.

Dalat (for the last time..)

 Owing to our entirely rational decision to never travel by 3rd class bus again, we've found ourselves trapped here in Dalat until tomorrow morning, when we've  managed to bag a couple of first class seats .

This left us with the problem of what to do today.

For clarity, Dalat is in no way, a 'happening town'.

There are a great many hotels and guest houses (furnished from Chinese museums by the look of them) and an equally excessive number of coffee shops.

Bars and decent restaurants: but a distant dream.  

Those of you poor souls who were with us in Yogyakarta will recognise our despair.....

But, the day needed to be filled and so it was off in a taxi to visit 'The Summer Palace'.

It's the former summer home of the last king/emperor of Vietnam, Bao Dai, who was deposed finally in 1955.

JB and I are no strangers to the stately home experience (paid up members of the National Trust. And not just for the free parking) and so expectations were high.

The exterior of the building was less a palace and more a municipal baths. (JB once more reminded of Morecambe).

Inside, (once we'd put on protective socks over our shoes) it resembled a branch of Waring and Gillows circa 1950. But dustier. 

Honestly, you'd think they could go round occasionally with a can of Pledge and a duster........

The private rooms were no better....

I'm not sure how long the Vietnamese summer lasts, but I'm willing to bet that the Royal family cheered when it was over.....

Dalat (Again!)

 We've been to visit the popular tourist attraction known as 'The Crazy House'.

For once, readers, it actually lived up to both name and expectations. 

Crazier than a belfry stuffed with bats.

We wandered around, and marveled at the sheer bonkersness of it all.

JB declared it to be the at the gaudy end of Gaudi, and he's been to Barcelona so he knows what he's talking about. 

Here's a few pics to give you a flavour of it.

Foreign Pie News

 Incredibly, we have two pies to review, both both from the same roadside bakery in Dalat.

They were unlabelled (presumably to assist sales), but I've had a stab at guessing their contents. 

Pie A:

A lattice topped tart really. Terribly heavy, slightly soggy attempt at shortcrust pastry.  (Put me in mind of a flannel....)

Filling-wise, it seemed to be a mixture of coconut and condensed milk (sweetened. Of course)

Overall, not a good effort..

Pie B:

A crude attempt at puff pastry, its leaden layers concealed a filling which appeared to be a mixture of sage and onion stuffing and unrecognisable pork products. 

I found the filling quite tasty, but given that we'd just passed a stall selling pig snouts, JB gave it a very firm thumbs down.

Dalat

 After 5 horrid horizontal hours on a 3rd class sleeper bus, we arrived here in Dalat,  a 'weekend resort town' in the Central Highlands.

No tartan to be seen, but plenty of French and Alpine looking buildings.

The Vietnamese refer to the town as 'Little Paris' , however a closer inspection of a possible Eiffel tower revealed it as nothing more than a TV mast......

This morning, we set out for the lake and botanical gardens

The lake is somewhat fancifully described as 'banana shaped' and is populated by pedalos converted into chickens:

Next stop: the botanical gardens.

I think that the original designers were hoping to pull off an amalgam of Kew Gardens and Disneyland.

Sadly, whether due to a cost cutting decision or a simple error in translation, they appear to have consulted not the much loved Walt Disney,  but the lesser known Glaswegian animator Walt Disnae.

And the result is, well, see for yourself......

There were other exhibits, but I'm sparing you.

Although I feel you need to see Disnae's Mickey Mouse:

The floral bits were quite nice , prompting JB to remark that the overall effect was reminiscent of Happy Mount Park in Morecambe .

Although less exotic. Obviously. 

Anyhow,  here's a few flowery pics  to give you thar Morecambe feeling....

Temple visit

 We've turned our backs on silver screen re-enactment. 

Instead, today, we chose to visit Chùa Thiện Quang temple for some cultural and spiritual enlightenment . 

(Quite possibly a tall order, but we shall see).

Encouragingly, the taxi driver knew where it was and we set off.

It should come as no surprise to seasoned readers to learn that, on arrival, the temple gates were firmly locked. For lunch apparently. 

This seems to be a recurring theme here in Vietnam, and one wonders how they ever managed to defeat the assorted Allied forces if they stopped for lunch each day.

Anyhow......

Eventually the temple doors creaked open to reveal a frankly bonkers set of religious stuff.

Pausing only to don (faintly monkish, faintly musty) brown robes, we began exploring. 

And believe me, reader, there was MUCH to explore.....

Buddhas of every shape, size and ethnicity, together with diminutive bathing beauties.......this temple's got it all.

Accompanied by an excellent soundtrack of chanting, we lurched from altar to altar, never once tripping up on the (frankly voluminous) robes.

Full credit to those monks that choose to wear them full time.

Culturally, and perhaps a little bit spiritually enlightened, we wandered off to begin the 3 mile (taxi-less) journey back to the hotel

The Red Sand Dunes

 Following on from yesterday's outing, where we successfully re-enacted the incomparable film 'Platoon', we decided to visit 'The Red Sand Dunes'.

Obviously hoping to bring to life yet another cinematic classic (ie Lawrence of Arabia), expectations and spirits were high as we boarded the taxi.

On arrival at 'The Dunes', I was immediately pestered by an elderly  Vietnamese lady who seemed overly keen to rent out a couple of bits of ancient lino that she had clutched to her.

Regular readers will know that I have no truck with this kind of caper. 

We moved on. Lino-less.

As it turned out, far from being ancient floor coverings, they were in fact 'Sand Sledges'. I gather that you're meant to hurtle down the dunes on them, but as anyone who's seen National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation will know, that sort of behaviour almost always ends badly.

But I digress.

On to 'The Red Dunes' . The first thing to note is that they're not really red. More a sort of sand colour......

Secondly, and perhaps crucially, they weren't really dunes. 

 More like heaps of sand. 

Sand coloured sand.

Somewhat dispirited, but determined to see the project through, JB nobly posed for a 'Son of the Desert' snap, but neither of us felt able to channel the magnificent Peter O'Toole....

The Fairy Stream

 This afternoon, we visited the nearby Fairy Stream (what??? Thats it's name, right .......)

It's definitely a stream, but no with confirmed sightings of fairies.

The lack of fairies was more than made up for by the stunning scenery however.

The stream cuts through jungle to begin with, and as you paddle through it, barefoot, it's really quite atmospheric. 

In fact, at one point, JB came over all Willem Dafoe and  began making frantic hand gestures ( presumably to warn of advancing Vietcong, although he may just have been swatting away some mosquitoes)

It's that kind of place.

Eventually, the jungle gives way to bright red-orange sand dunes quite unlike anything I've ever seen before (and I've been to Fleetwood...)

Mui Ne

 We travelled to Mui Ne,  a seaside town some fours drive from Saigon.

We'd booked the 'Luxury Sleeper Bus', little realising that the bus was actually fitted out with beds, not seats.

However, four horizontal hours later, we arrived at our hotel in Mui Ne.  

A swift recce of the seafront revealed that this is the town where the coracle is king.

Your regular boat shaped boat owner would be laughed out of town here.

Horizontal coach travel,  circular boats, every day's a learning day.