Da Nang & Hoi An, Vietnam.

French Colonial era leper colony near Da Nang, Vietnam.

Buddha statue carved directly out of the rock in a cave near Da Nang.

C10th Hindu/Buddhist temple at My Son, near Hoi An - Vietnam.

Hoi An

Old woman selling floating candles, Hoi An.

Street food, Hoi An.

Lantern Market, Hoi An.

Japanese covered bridge, Hoi An.

A fisherman in his circular boat near Hoi An.

Tours vs. Exploration

My inclination for solo wandering that led me away from the UK made me think that generally speaking, exploration is a better way to experience a country, to get a feel for each town or city, to get to know its people. Looking back, I still think this holds true but there were a few occasions where booking an organised tour paid dividends.

Booking a trip to stay in a treehouse in the pristine rainforests of Laos was definitely one of those occasions. There was no way I would have been able to reach the interior of that vast expanse of green without a guide or a place to stay. Had I tried, I probably wouldn’t be here to write this. Bear Grylls would have been fine, but not me. Having a guide to point out all the plants and animals made it a revealing experience for sure. Plus I didn’t have to hunt for my dinner, which was a bonus.

        When I arrived in Vietnam, I was debating heading to Ha Long city on my own and trying to find a boat captain to take me on a tour of the bay. Instead, I caved and booked an organised tour from Hanoi. It turned out to be a great decision: I got to stay on a first class boat for one night, with another in a small hut on a private beach. We went caving, hiking, swimming and kayaking, had amazing meals cooked for us and I met a bunch of brilliant people along the way. Had I gone on my own, I wouldn’t have done half as much, met all those people and probably would have got ripped off in the process.

On the other hand, some equally memorable experiences were had just wandering off and seeing where I ended up. I never would have found the Zen monastery in Da Lat without randomly turning up there. I wouldn’t have met the super friendly students in Hanoi or Saigon without deciding to just go for a walk in the park.

Had I taken a tour of the Angkor temples, I would have been rushed round only the major sights, to visit each at peak time. Instead I opted to explore it on my own over three days; I could take my time to find the best places to shoot at the best times, I could stop wherever for some meditation or Tai Chi. I found whole temple complexes deserted except for the incessant screech and roar of the jungle insects, thinking “How is there no-one here? This place is amazing!” I don’t even regret the fact that I seemed to be the only one walking kilometres between each site with a big bag full of cameras and a big bottle of water in 40^C heat. I loved every sweat-drenched minute.

I think it comes down to this – some people look at travel as a list of sights to see and things to do as if to be ticked off on a list; when you’re done with your list, you can go home satisfied. That works for a lot of people. I’m not knocking it; I had a list too. But if you take the time to purposefully get lost somewhere or say “I’m going where all the tourists don’t go”, or to head down that road that looks like it might have something interesting on it you can have those experiences that aren’t mentioned in Lonely Planet, that aren’t on ‘Top 10 things to do in…’ lists. Those are the ones that are particularly special, because few people get to have them and you found it without anyone telling you how.

Ha Long Bay & Hue, Vietnam.

Cat Ba Island - Ha Long Bay, Vietnam.

Floating village, Ha Long Bay.

Our private beach accomodation, Ha Long Bay.

Ha Long sunset.

Imperial City - Hue, Vietnam.

Kai Dinh Tomb, Hue.

Inside Kai Dinh tomb, Hue

On temples...

I could spend all day walking around temples. I love the tranquillity and the lingering scent of incense pervading your nostrils. Travelling through this part of the world, I was spoiled for choice for great temples to visit. Obviously at the top of my list was the temple city of Angkor in Cambodia. More about that in a moment.

I was surprised by the difference in temple styles between the countries. Because the population of South East Asia predominantly practices Theravada Buddhism, I assumed most of the temples would be fairly similar. Not so.

Obviously the time during which they were built has a bearing – different styles are popular at different times but temples built a couple of hundred years apart in the same country still bear reasonable comparison.

For example, the temples I visited in Laos were far more ornately decorated than elsewhere: huge panels of intricate carvings adorning outer walls covered in gold leaf, walls and pillars covered with delicate patterns in gold paint, hundreds of tiny golden Buddha effigies set into walls. Anything that can be gilded, is. Not every temple was like this, but even less established ones in poorer areas still had grandiose décor to them. The solemnity of each was still inescapable despite the grandeur.

In Vietnam, they were less ostentatious but no less beautiful. The Zen temple complex in Da Lat was particularly striking – made of huge pieces of dark hardwood, with arresting bronze panels showing scenes from the Buddha’s life story, set in immaculate gardens with large Bonzai-like trees and neatly manicured lawns criss-crossed by small streams and dotted with ponds.

Or the somewhat garish Buddhist/Catholic/Taoist temple near Saigon, with huge dragon-wrapped pillars, all-seeing eyes staring down from window reliefs and effigies of demons above doorways. All watching over a mixed faith ceremony combining elements from each religion: streams of pungent incense, choral voices and bizarre eastern instruments combine into a heady mix of mysticism and dogmatic ceremony.

Temples in Cambodia are a strange affair. The majority were destroyed by the Khmer Rouge, so what you see now are either newer temples built since, or very old huge monolithic structures like those at Angkor. These were left fairly unscathed during that period, as they were seen as a symbol of Khmer strength and capability. However, any statues within the complex were defaced or destroyed altogether during the agrarian reforms imposed by Pol Pot’s clique.

Angkor is almost impossible to describe; you just have to see it. A city of temple cities dating from 9^th to 15^th century, built by various kings and self-proclaimed ‘god-kings’ of Buddhist and/or Hindu faith depending on what period. Vast structures in black sandstone which, anywhere else on Earth, would be a huge spectacle are mere sideshows at the sideshow to the main event. Some entirely coated in wall carvings, with huge faces smiling at you from all angles. Others stark and rugged, some labyrinthine, many crumbling or being swallowed up by plants and trees. All of them rising out of the steaming jungle and home to huge numbers of frogs, monkeys, snakes and myriad insects. You can explore the complex for weeks and still not see all it has to offer. If you include the infrastructure surrounding Angkor (canals and roads etc) it covers an area over 1000 km² making it the largest human settlement prior to the industrial revolution, and comparable in size to modern day Los Angeles.

The sunrise over the main temple - Angkor Wat - was one of the most beautiful moments of the journey: mirrored in a still pond, two suns peel away in polar ascent over the holy mountain peaks of the temple spires and through the haze of clouds. Worlds are shattered as darkness is ushered away, we all reborn and the earth is made anew. A genesis of indescribable beauty. Holy is the space between spaces, the pools of light. Fractal on fractal. The day and the night.

Sapa & Hanoi, Vietnam.

 

Flower Hmong tribeswomen come to town to sell goods on market day in Bac Ha, Vietnam.

 

 

Black Hmong woman in Sapa, Vietnam.

Cobra Whiskey.

Sapa, Vietnam.

Students are very friendly in Vietnam!

Students pose for graduation photos (I think!) at the Temple of Literature in Hanoi, Vietnam.

 

Monks...

I think some of the most memorable moments of my trip came from simple conversations with Buddhist monks in various countries. In my experience they’re invariably friendly people, always keen to stop for a chat with someone from a foreign country, whether to practice their English skills (which were nearly always impeccable) or just to find out about another country and its culture. You can see them in certain places in nearly every town, receiving offerings of food from local people at dawn, who receive blessings in return. This practice dates back around 2500 years to Siddhartha Gautama, whose teachings founded Buddhism. After spending years in the wilderness, he renounced his ascetic ways and subsisted on offerings from the villages and towns he passed through.

     
     It’s a beautiful spectacle to watch lines of lines of monks receiving their alms, silent except for the chanted blessings they impart. Even in Luang Prabang in Laos, where it seems to have turned into something of a human zoo, with some tourists getting disrespectfully close to the ceremony.

     The monastic order seems to be a social welfare system of sorts in Laos, where those who are unable to afford an education can join a monastery and be given food and board as well as a decent education, for free. A great education in fact, I spoke to a 20 year old monk in Luang Prabang who could hold a conversation in 10 different languages, learning partly from speaking to tourists and partly from his teachers. I was amazed to watch him have a conversation in fluent French – he had been learning for 2 months and was better than I after learning for 8 years.

     Another great memory was from a Zen Buddhist monastery in Da Lat, Vietnam; where I got chatting to a senior monk who asked me if I would help him with a Vietnamese to English translation of the history of his order. We spent an afternoon drinking green tea with ginger and making alterations to the text he had written. In return I was taken on a tour of their private quarters, meditation and ceremony halls, where tourists aren’t generally allowed. The whole place had a kind of hushed grandeur to it and a sense of solemn awe. In the evening he let me stay behind to watch their evening chanting and prayer session. Beginning with cryptic chants over a speaker system, set to a rhythmic BA-BOOM on a huge drum and clangs on an equally huge bell, the monks, novices and laypeople entered the temple hall. Each chant was led by a senior monk and picked up by the others, increasing in rhythm and fervency, soon the frogs and crickets joined in their own chants as the whole thing reached the pulsing, vibrating roar of some epic lullaby. I realised I was the sole observer of a ritual that must date back hundreds of years; something esoteric yet entirely familiar, intangible but intensely personal. An illuminating experience I’ll never forget.

     

     The monks seem to embody what I and millions of others love about Buddhism: they’re always accepting, ever thoughtful, contemplative and compassionate. If only everybody knew a few of them!