‘Hey! I didn’t expect to see another traveler for weeks. Especially not crazy bike guys’. Jiles blurted out as John and I sat drinking tea and feasting on puri at the tiny chai stand on the fringe of Moreh town. Jiles, a 21 year old, six feet six, Belgian hitchhiker was crossing the border from Tamu in north western Myanmar to Moreh in Manipur, heading south to Mizoram. ‘We thought the same until eight o’clock this morning- we met a French couple in Tamu. Seems like a popular crossing for travelers’ I offered. Jiles would be the first backpacker we encountered in the lesser traveled regions of North East India, but not the last. Continue reading
High up above the town of Kiphire we were given an ominous warning; ‘you can’t go that way’ said the hulking mass of man in charge of the guest house, ‘it’s too dangerous, many rebels, insurgents, the road is blocked’. We thanked him for his concern and went to bed. We were committed to that route, since it was the only direct road to Mon and we’d crossed 134km of rutted dirt track to reach our present location- returning the same way was, in my mind, absolutely, completely out of the fucking question. Continue reading
‘I have the necessary papers right here’ drawled the cowboy in a thick Texan accent, his strange voice filling the tiny portacabin office of the border checkpoint. It was early in the morning, purposefully so, to avoid any potential queues; our forms were filled in quickly, photographs taken, occupations fictionalised, passports stamped; we didn’t get to speak to the man in the Ten Gallon hat but were certain we’d see him again. Continue reading
The bike rolled along quickly on the glass like surface. For the first time in months there was not a blemish to be seen on the road. I was relieved, the past 98 days had been hard on the old steel horse. It was time to run free once more. Continue reading
Arriving in Cambodia was like a breath of fresh air. After the built-up-stuff-going-on-everywhere-scooters-blasting-horns-trucks-rattling-past-too-close-intensity of Vietnam, the expansive, wide open spaces of southern Cambodia were a joy. Continue reading
I woke early to the sound of heavy goods vehicles thundering by on the busy highway to Hanoi. I’d just spent the night with a Vietnamese family watching an episode of Vietnams Next Top Model featuring Donna of Haute Culture fame. The family had very kindly invited me for dinner and offered a bed for the night. The bed being the one outside their huge roadside restaurant next to the main arterial road connecting Hanoi to the North. Continue reading
In this final post covering our trip in north Vietnam I want to tell you about two roads. This pair of roads neatly bookend our journey from Dong Van all the way to Cao Bang and the Ban Gioc Waterfall. They also happen to be my favourite in Vietnam.
CONTENT WARNING: This post contains a detailed account of a man taking a shit on a tile. If you are sensitive to toilet humour, this post may not be for you. You have been warned. Continue reading
Next day the road took us up to Quan Ba. We ate a late lunch and found out from the locals more of the road ahead. From the map it looked like a very steep twisting route. Our thoughts were confirmed and we were advised to stay the night. The journey on a moto would take six hours. We checked in to the most luxurious suite so far. A twin double with a huge window, balcony and a cracking view across the valley. It was a treat to be off the bike so early so I took a shower and set out to explore the town on foot.