Happy New Decade

Dear Marmite

Happy New Year to you, all your friends, my friends and family! I have heard rumours that you have been a little naughty of late and I hope your New Year Resolution will be to be good to one and all. You should always remember which side your bread is buttered. Good dogs get many more treats than bad ones.

I am on a different continent to you - Europe - and it is far too cold. Each time I go out it takes an age to put all the layers on and then when I am in a building, I need to strip off a few just so I don't overheat. Yesterday, I popped into a coffee shop for kunefe and coffee, took my top layer off and the other two peeled off as well.

This is a trick I once managed in The George (Pub) in Maulden. The worst part is that once the jumpers are over your head, it is difficult to get out of the tangle. So there I was, making a spectacle of myself. Luckily in a place where no one knows me. If I had your wonderful fur coat this would not happen to me.

While on my travels I have been looking at real estate. Around my hotel there are some wonderful bits that have been around for centuries and have been repurposed as the need has arisen. Take the Hagia Sofia for example. It has been completely rebuilt three times. Over time the most recent manifestation has been added to as well. It started off as a Christian place of worship and has in turn been a palace, a mosque and then a museum since 1923.

The sign says it has been "restorated severely" and despite that, they have done / are doing a good job. The interior is tastefully done. There is an awe of quietness. Even the crowds and selfie maniacs who take pictures of themselves in front of everything from every angle don't diminish the experience.

The Archaeology Museum is full of bits of rock dating back 12,000 years. Significantly there are a number of andropoids and sarcophaguses(ii) - from all over the region. In a way, they are homes for the dead - solidly built, quite spacious and long lasting. Across civilsations and religions there are so many similarities in finding a way to celebrate death. Reading the information on the exhibits it is easy to forget that 400 - 500 years of an ancient empire is a very long time and there were lots of empires that existed alongside each other. The first known treaty was written between Egypt and the Hittites in 1274 BC to settle a war. Nothing new!

The cruise on the Bospherus took us along the European side of the city and then back along the Asia part. Real estate here is apparently as expensive as Singapore although much older and possibly restorated severely at one time or another. My overall impression of this city is that it is clean, calm, well-organised and in all the time I have wandered the streets, I haven't seen any homeless people.

Having lived in Singapore for such a long time, you would think I had the shopping habit. Not in the least. Having visited the Grand Bazaar - another magnificent piece of real estate, I could easily have shopped til I dropped. This is a place to feed anyone's shopping urges.  The treasures are amazing and it is only that I don't have space in my luggage that stops me from buying. It was my travel resolution. No souvenirs.

My Resolution last year was to spend a limited amount on clothes. I stuck to that - even including the boots. It was to make me be more mindful of waste. This year I will do the same. I will be GREEN. The trip has made this difficult, especially in Asia with bottled water and tiny packets of shampoo but I am hopeful that now I am in Europe, I will be able to do my bit.

Here's to happy times ahead. Miss you, Singapore

Love

Andrea

XXX

I've met a man!

Dear Marms

What can I say? This charming man started walking my way very soon after I left the hotel yesterday morning and struck up a conversation. He told me he wasn't a tourist guide and soon after invited me to look at his carpets. Totally charming! What he didn't know was that I don't actually have a home to put any of his carpets in.

This man named Omar wasn't actually the only man who charmed me yesterday. There were at least five Omars and they all told me they weren't tourist guides but they did have carpet shops. The introduction patter was almost identical word for word as well.  What are the chances of that happening to one person in one day in Istanbul? I wonder.

When I did manage to shake these men off and resist looking at their carpets, I did the Blue mosque, a mauseleum, another older mosque, the Islamic Art Museum, the Mosaic Museum and two cafes to thaw out. I learnt lots about the Umayyads, Abbasids, Ottomans and how their power in the region waxed and waned over the centuries. The net result is a very beautiful city with arts and crafts of unimaginable quality and workmanship. The Roman Mosaics aren't as good or as well preserved as those in Madaba, Jordan though.

I needed to catch a tram in the evening and yet another man came up to me with  different opening gambit and said I looked lost. I asked if he was selling carpets and he laughed. I have to say a big thank you to this man. He showed me how to buy the tram card and probably saved me many minutes where I would have had to figure it out when it is written in Turkish.

I have to admit to eating far too much in one day. I met up with my Syrian friend, Naeroz in Taksim Square. We ate at a Lebanese Restaurant and I had the best food of my trip so far. So simple yet so lovingly made.

The big damper of my time here is the icy rain and oh so cold weather. It is still raining as I write. My boots are now a godsend and don't look the least out of place here in Istanbul whereas I felt a little odd wearing them on Koh Lipe beach. They now also look lived in and still have the tint of red dust from Laos. That might well come all the way back across the channel with me.

You might be surprised that despite the cold weather there are dogs and cats on the streets. If you were with me, Marms you too would need to get out and face the adverse conditions. It is character-building in so many ways.

Love

Andie

XXX

Hit by Brass Monkey Weather

Dear Marmite

I really don't think you'd like the weather here in Istanbul. I arrived at 5am this morning when the temerature was 2c. It isn't much more now. I can't imagine you wanting to walk on really icy cold pavements after being used to so much warmth. Because everything looked closed, I went to an outdoor 24 hour cafe near the Blue Mosque and my hotel to drink coffee and wait til day broke. I appreciated the heat of the coffee in my hands as much as drinking it. I also felt warmed by the mu'azzin call to prayer when it reverberated around the area. Amazingly, a fair amount of traffic passed through the cafe while I was there - quite an international scene, in fact.

My last day in Hanoi was also a bit on the gloomy side but I had planned a major pampering session at the Sen Spa - a slighlty more up-market massage place dow a side street near the church and the lake. The weather didn't matter for that. I am so glad that I did this. My flight on Turkish airlines was almost unbearable - not because of anything that the airline failed in. It was the oversized oaf that occupied the seat next to me, he took up his space and a goodly percentage of mine ass well. He grunted periodically and farted repeatedly throughout the night flight. The net result - sleep ZERO - annoyance 100%. My 25 hour bus trip to Chang Rai was bliss by comparison.

I watched a wonderful inflight movie about a Pakistani boy from Bury Park, Luton who was obsessed with The Boss! and loved writing. My only critiicism was that the scenes of Luton were cut to make it look as if you could walk to Stockwood Park from the Arndale in a matter of minutes. Luton looked quite nice! Really, it did! A great movie and also a good immersion into the best and worst of being British.

Now the miles between us, Marms, are unimaginable and I am staying in a place that is steeped in layers of so much history that I can't wait to explore. If this was Singapore, it would be ripe for redevelopment. There are even some Roman ruins close by that block the pavement  - such inconvenience. These Romans had no idea the future problems their constructions would cause, obviously.

Long, long distance hugs and kisses over the airwaves..

Love you,

A

I'm leaving on a jet plane

Dear Marmite

Today is the big hiccup in my plans. My overland trip needs a little help. Tonight I am flying to Turkey. Where did it all go wrong? I will point fingers at Russia. To get into Russia, you have to get a visa within 30 days of entering the country. I promise myself I will be doing the Trans Siberian rail trip but this will have to be another time, sadly.

So ends my time travelling through East Asia. I think I have said this before. The trip has been so varied that it is a blur and I am glad I have written these letters to you so I can remind myself of all the things that I have done along the way.

Yesterday, Jeremy told me off for trying to read Vietmanese writing out loud purely because it sounded funny. Then I caught him doing the same. A clear case of the pot calling the kettle black, me thinks!

An illustration of a local story to rival the bawdiness of Chaucer

Ly, Le, (later) Le, Ngo, Nguyen and Tao Son are all dynasty names that stretch back a thousand years with periodic interventions from the Chinese. Those names alone could be part of a comedy routine.  The North Imperial Palace in Hanoi was built the same way as the Forbidden City in Beijing. It is called the Citadel and was partly rebuilt in a European style to please the French and possibly irritate the locals.

A paper bag tree in the grounds of the Citadel

On site is Bunker D67. It was the operational command the war against America and the rhetoric leaves you in no doubt how the glorious, heroic forces of their army vanguished the terrible, not very clever, Americans. Ironically, forty years on the US dollar is king and history has been swept aside. It seems all is forgiven.

As it was my last night with Diane and Jeremy we went posh - even though I was wearing my boots still dusted with Lao soil. ( I tucked these under the table lest I got turfed out for scruffiness.) The Metropole is the equivalent of Raffles in Singapore. There we supped mulled wine at the Bamboo Bar by the pool - quite elegantly, actually despite the boots.

There are rather a lot of paradoxes. Firstly, my overland trip needs a flight, secondly Vietnam has totally forgiven the Americans, thirdly scruffs can dine out in posh places and as I age, I can grow old disgracefully. The Citadel says, "Vietmanese Old People 60 and above" can get in cheaper to see the site. British Old People can't!

Me taking silly pictures just because...

So Marms, you and I are officially Old Folks... That is indisputable.

I  am off very soon - along Pho Hang Bong to Pho Hang Gai for starters - Ciao

Love

A

If the cap fits

Dear Marms

I have been on a journey of discovery and at last I know who I am. I am Godess Mother. The Women's Museum in Hanoi has room dedicated to her. Dau Mau is the Vietmanese name and she represents the path to a better life and contact with the spiritual world. The hat suits me well, I think. Even my bed for the night was most welcoming for a Godess and an affirmation of my new esteemed status.

For me, the museum is an important celebration of the power of women. The many and various hill tribes all have a prominent place for women. These tribes are mostly matrilineal and the youngest child is the heir. For you, Marmite, you are lucky you are in Singapore. The Ede tribe sacrifice a dog for its blood to guarantee a healthy pregnancy. They are certainly not the sort of people you would want to mix with.

Women also played an important part in the war against the Americans and French. This conflict lasted for two decades. Forty percent of the fighters were women. It looks as if they took an equal share of the burden in all aspects and they were treated just as cruelly when captured.

From a Western perspective at that time, when women were still part of the "chattel" this might have looked like communist coercion and another opportunity for propaganda against the ideals of the region. From the stories in the museum the women fought with zeal equal to or more than the men. This place is a celebration of women in society. The West take note!

The Food Walk in the afternoon was also an interesting experience. Between tasting food that sounded more like a Spike Milligan poem and dodging the rain, a group of nine of us got to chat to the university student who was moonlighting to be our guide and practice her English. As ever, motorbikes blocked the paths and roared around us as we attempted to be as one snaking along the roads /paths /gutters.

The big thing we missed was the eclipse. The sky was dark and gloomy here  with cloud a heavy blanket. I am sad that I didn't see it. I hope you manged to look up and admire, Marms.  In the past we have been on treks together around the Dairy Farm area to look at previous eclipses. These memories we have shared.

And so, replete with mulled wine, the Godess retired to her bed.

Until my next missive,

Love and stuff

Hugs all round

XXX

Colonialism - the Up Side

Dear Marms

I am still in Hanoi and after having a massive meltdown seeing all the motorbikes log-jammed late at night on Christmas Eve, this place is beginning to grow on me.

Admittedly, my experience of this city is restricted to the old part but that is the bit that quite appeals. It is generally recognised that colonialisation in the 1800s was bad - especially for those having foreign rule imposed on them. The legacy in many ways is positive. The old part of the city is quaintly French. The buildings and narrow alleys are so typical of French planning and the cafe society thrives. People sit on the side walks and watch the world go by while sipping especially good coffee. Despite the noise from motorbikes that pootle and parp along these side streets, this area really is endearing.

There are also stark Soviet style buildings like the Post Office that don't look out of place alongside the very old Vietnam culture and the French styles. Without this mixed history Hanoi would not be half as nice.

Colonialism isn't new, the Saxons, the Romans, the Vikings, the Normans et al all left a visible impact on the British Isles. Their legacy makes my country the place it is today and I am sure that no one in Britain would want to erase this mixed heritage. I am sure that one day there will be a revisionist view of colonialism. We will embrace the good bits and learn from the mistakes that were made. After all, our globalised world is just one outcome.

Back to me, Marms. My holiday is becoming a blur of things and days - all so very different from each other. I am supposed to be staying in the Lotus Boutique Hotel. My room had a broken "pip". That pip is still not mended but tonight after two different rooms in two sister hotels, I am going to stay in the place I liked the look of and booked. Moving rooms is one thing. I came down to breakfast this morning and sat down to eat. The waiter realised there was a bit of overcrowding in the restaurant so now I am sitting in my third seat in just one meal. Maybe this is "no fixed abode" style of existence is a Vietmanese nod to its unique culture. On the up side, all the staff have been most apologetic about the mix up so I can only laugh.

One thing that came from Vietmanese culture is the water puppets - slapstick in water at its best with an accompaniment of the most wonderful music played on local instruments. I went last night and am still smiling about it today. Thank You Vietman!

So Christmas is over - no Turkeys were killed for my benefit this year... no blood spilt. I had a four cheese pizza! Cheers.

Hugs all round

Love

A

'Twas the Night before Christmas

Hey Marms

Christmas is here! It took us a long journey yesterday but that is actually part of the Christmas story, really. We started off from Xin Nuea and ended up being dumped  the middle of a relatively busy road in Hanoi. All this took about fourteen hours on two buses.

the first bus set off at 8ish. It could possibly have been carbon-dated to antediluvian times but no motorbikes this time. This one was blue. When we got off I noticed a sign that indicated to me that no alcohol, cars or bikes were allowed on the bus.

However, along the way to the border the bus slowed down to a low gear while various parts of vehicles were thrown through the door along with food stuff and  sundry parcels. I imagined that before the trip was done we would be constructing a bike on board with the bits. However, at other points the cargo was jettisoned into the arms of people lining the route - an interesting system of delivery!

The border was remarkably quiet. Our luggage went through the X-ray machine and the customs officers marked our passports. The driver shared a bong with with some of the other passengers  in full view of everyone and on we went. I wonder what is not allowed to enter Vietnam.

On the other side of the border the roads were considerably better - they were tarmacked for a start. They were much wider and they had paint on them. We had survived our driver's face off with a digger and survived a near head on collision with a truck. Now Vietnam held promise of prosperity and a more comfy ride.

After over 8 hours of being bounced and jiggled, we suddenly turned into what I initially thought was someone's private forecourt. It was actually a market-cum-hawker-cum-bus station in the middle of what looked like a remote village. One of the passengers told us to get our stuff and get off and wait for the Hanoi bus. Communication problems are half the fun of travelling - it is the joy of not knowing.

Amazingly, it arrived within minutes and it was a bus with reclining bunks and padded floors. Luxury. As we were now back to having contact with the outside world my phone pinged Christmas messages from Singapore, Sweden, Sydney, Stevenage and other places not starting with "s". Wow, the wonders of the internet!

Again, our lack of the local tongue led to not knowing where we were. We were going straight through Hanoi at around 10pm. The streets were dark and of course nothing was familiar. When the driver realised we needed to get out in Hanoi he stopped in the middle of a road junction. We got our bags from the storage area under the bus and stood in the middle of the road wondering what to do.. So this is Christmas!

By 11 we had been dropped by a taxi a way away from our hotel because the streets were chocka with motorbikes - so much so we walked faster than them. The still ones were parked on the pavements so we walked down the road with the almost still ones!

Finally we found the hotel - the end of the trip was nigh. But NO. The hotel explained that my room had a broken "pip" so water cannot. I will translate. The toilet, shower and sink were out of action because of a broken PIPE! They were very apologetic, offered a free taxi etc... We went by foot - our decision, as it was faster - to a sister hotel.

Then Beer o'clock and bed. What a day!

Merry Christmas.

Love

Andie

Merry Christmas One and All

Dear Marmite

I am sure as you listen to this and eat your turkey leg you won't mind sharing this letter wih people on four continents who are also coming along with me on this Journey. It is probably the strangest Christmas I will ever experience as it is a non-Christmas and I like big ones.

So, wherever you are in the world, I'd like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a prosperous new year. If you are in the UK, I am sure we will be meeting up pretty soon when I settle down in Milton Keynes. If you are in Dairy Farm - have fun - I miss that place already. If Santa doesn't find you, it is because he is strung up in Orchard Road.

Today I am off on the next leg of the trip to Vietnam and more specifically, Hanoi. It means another long slog on a bus. Yesterday's bus didn't have a motorbike on the roof but there was one firmly tethered to the seats in the isle of the minivan so we had to climb over it to get out at the toilet stop. This bus was green but Diane didn't mind this colour so much as it was probably about thirty years newer than the one that took us to Phonsavan. Once again we passed through beautiful countryside on hair-raising roads.

The toilets are always a good topic of conversation when travelling. I am saving this point up for a future blog - probably to be titled, "toilets I have known". After all we all have toilet stories from our holidays, don't we?

I will be spending Christmas Day in Hanoi. Things I know already - there won't be a turkey and almost for certain we won't be playing games like SPOONS. There could be hats, if I manage to find some to buy before our "Christmas lunch" and I would like to have bucks fizz for breakfast as that is what Woolheads do on Christmas morning.

Three years ago I had a Christmas party at my house that lasted a very long time. Didn't it DJ? We were still seated around the dining table at 11:30pm after starting dinner at 2pm. The following year my family came out for Christmas and one uninvited guest tagged along! I had pneumonia but none of the family seemed to notice. I managed to take myself off to hospital where I found the cause of my vomiting and tiredness. I was offered a bed and in retrospect I should have escaped to it. Clearly that was a Christmas to remember.

I expect my family will continue this year with all our old traditions. I can't quite see my ex getting organised enough to cook the dinner but I imagine, "She who cannot be named" - his not so new squeeze - will step up to the plate and do all the necessaries to create a festive meal. I'll raise a glass in sympathy to her. Merry Christmas Kids!!
(A glass of Lao vine terminate). I hope it doesn't.

I am already thinking of doing a not-Christmas - Christmas when I get home so my family can have a double celebration plus fun and games that we play at Christmas. I am looking forward to it already. Marmite - perhaps we can do a video link up so you will be part of the fun. I know you would love to see the rest of your family again.

Wishing you and everyone all the best of times and peace throughout the world.

Love you All.

Andie

XXX

A lot to cry about

Dear Marmite

You really don't know how lucky you are. I know that you had a bit of a dodgy history before you came to live with us but now you have a roof over your head, feasts fit for a king and love all round. There is very little that you could want for on top of that.

Today in Laos I found out that 44% of the population live on less than US$1.25 a day. On top of that, there is endemic corruption so many people have no access to employment or education while the president is giving China, Vietnam and Russia rights to what amounts to "land grabs" before giving his own people opportunities. Any progress that comes from this foreign intervention benefits the wealthy and one day China will re-call its debt. God knows what will happen to the counttry then.

The Chinese set up building projects and employ Chinese workers. What is more 2 million Chinese are moving to the country in 2020. The current population is only 7 million so that is an incredibly large percentage of foreign people. Inevitably this will change the essense of what the country is.

History has not been kind to these peoples either. From 1964 to 1973 they were bombed every 8 minutes night and day. The legacy of that war that no one really knew about is UXOs - unexploded ordnance - which means that farming is still a very risky activity. People are still being killed today. A small industry has grown up using the bomb metals to make other items like spoons and bracelets. This is small positive to come out of the carnage.

We visited the Plain of Jars, where these remaining stone jars have stood the ravages of time. They are about two and a half thousand years old but no one really knows what their purpose was. There is a very calm aura about the sites and it is well worth the visit.

 (All my best photos are on my D90) It is assumed they were burial pots which also doubled up as whisky jars - hence the song - (Thin Lizzy). Many were destroyed in the fighting and all around the site are bomb craters. With a tough terrain, corruption, poor infrastructure and low level education, it will take many years before Laos will be able to stand on its own feet.

Sad as all this is, it took a fresh chilli to make me really cry. Our guide took us to a very local restaurant for a noodle meal. Before the meal came we had a bowl of raw vergetable leaves put on the table. I was keen to work out what they were by tasting them. There was also a plate of fresh chillies. I bit into one and it was mighty hot. Undaunted, I peeled back the skin to eat and left the seeds. Then I rubbed my eye.

My tongue burst into flames and no amount of beer / water / fresh air cold dampen the fire. Rubbing my eye made it sting so much I forgot that it was me that caused the contact and added to my initial dose with another rub. Tears streamed from my eyes and down my nose. I personally had a lot to cry about. The chilling data amplifies how unequal this world is and it is more likely to get worse. That is a far bigger thing for us all to cry about.

I quenched my fire with beer. The dead banana, mango, papaya and tamarind trees in the valley near the stone jars are already dead as it has been unseasonally cold and dry in these parts. They need rain. The Climate crisis is yet another blow to survival here in Laos.

It is a wonderful country, Marms, but be glad you are a pampered pooch in Singapore.

Love

XXX

23000 steps and 657 floors while remaining seated

Dear Marmite

I have found a form of exercise that will definitely appeal to you - bus travel! Yesterday our trip from Luang PraBang to Phonsavan was eight hours long and was on winding, mountainous roads. All that time for me was spent squeezed into the back row of a rickety bus.

Diane was very disappointed that the bus wasn't white like the one in photo on the website where she booked the tickets. Ours was yellow mostly. It had patches of rust on the outside and the dilapidated red pvc chairs had a fine dusting of red dust much the same as the fine dusting of red dust we also had by the end of the trip. Diane sat with her knees close to her nose as her leg room below the seat was taken up by the wheel hub. I at least could dig my knees into the seat in front.

There were things going for the bus. It wasn't all bad. On the roof, along with our bags was a motorbike. The white minibuses didn't have such extras. We were clearly lucky. To top that, our driver had a go-getter attitude so we went at speed all the way!

The road, as I have already said, was windy and steep. To add to the excitment, the road was strategically pot-holed to add to the excitment. At one point there was a landslide - perhaps created by the mechanical digger, or the mechanical digger was clearing it up, so we all came to a halt - even the white aircon minibuses had to do the same but when it came to leaving the scene ours was the first. It positioned itself ahead of the queue and revved the engine. I can even believe it was edging the digger out of the way as we pushed forward.

On the bus there was a mixture of locals and travellers. A young, local mother with two small children dealt with their sickness and threw things out of the window as we sped along. Jeremy gave her a packet of wet wipes - these too went with the wind to add to the incidental rubbish on the roadside.

The road was hardly wide enough for two cars yet the number of construction vehicles we passed by breathing in and clinging onto the outer verge was impressive. The people of this region clearly like living on the edge - both literally and metaphorically.  Bamboo shacks lined the outside verge on the road in many places en route; their long stilts precariously balancing these homes. Most of these  flimsy homes look as if a high wind would send them down to the deep inpenetrable valleys below. To live with such vistas must make up for the dangers. The views all the way were impressive. Thick vegetation covered the landscape right to the top of the mountain tops.

So while sitting watching the world go by, I did 23000 steps and climbed 657 floors. I think that should go in the record books!

Now I am at the hotel which is typical basic Asian style. Please note the hospitality pack. The room is far too cold for my thin blood and I spent the entire night trying to stay warm. I am at the point in my trip where I could be dressing up to climb into bed. I can understand why you liked scrambling under the rugs at home. At the moment I would like to join you just to thaw.

Be good, miss you still...

Love and hugs

XXX

Too much of a Stuppa

Dear Marmite

I really am quite in love with this place and I am sure you would like it too. Luang PraBang is a very tastefully developed backwater that isn't too touristy yet. There aren't the crowds, the tat is minimal and the bars/restaurants seem inviting without having someone attack you on the street to come in to buy their food. You are never hassled.

This evening we hit the night market where I was expecting to choose my food from a stall and eat it standing up in the street. Instead, there was a pleasant plaza with hawker stalls equal to or better than those in Singapore. The food choice was limited but the ambiance was chill. On the next table to ours an old stray dog got the pickings from the meal shared at the table. Children were out playing around the tables. It all seemed very natural. A mixture of locals and tourists shared the area.

I promised myself that I would buy nothing to take home on my travels and last night I weakened my resolve. I now need to find room for a snake and an egg in my luggage. When I was near the White Temple in Chiang Rai I saw a really beautiful jacket that fitted perfectly but didn't buy it as it meant more to carry.  I do regret not getting it as it was so nice though. This time I fell off the wagon and it was difficult to resist buying more. I really will have to return here with an empty suitcase sometime in the future and buy cushion covers, table runners, bags, trousers, wooden bowls...

Besides the original crafts there are more than enough temples and ample stuppas to go round. We visited the one at the top of the hill in the main part of town. The views stretch over the city area and across to the mountains. These views really are quite breath-taking. Because the city is so small, we bumped into the passengers from the boat - a reunion of new - old friends on top of the hill and in the local cafe. Transient good friends now connected by a shared boat trip and whatsapp!

Typical of being English, we spend too much time playing with words. So being in a Buddhist country with Hindu influences, there are stuppas aplenty. Being in a stupour could be the result of Lao Beer or the popular local rice whisky.. I have been by too many stuppas to count but not yet in a stupour, to date. One big question that has stupified me about this place is how there is such a strong Sinhalese influence in the religious architecture which dates back to the 1500s.

If the Sri Lankans had got to this area, they would have had to either come up the Mekong or travelled over sea and then overland through Thailand. What was it that made the locals adopt this style and why were these intruders / invaders such a strong influence? Nothing in the temple descriptions explains this at all.

Another thing that is hard to explain is why the national artifacts are on display for such a short time each day. We arrived at the National museum and palace around 11:15 to find it closing at 11:30 and then opening at 16:00 and closing again at 16:30. It says on the sign that these are  the closed-open times. This is probably an accurate description. We even got locked in the grounds without realising that everything gets locked up, including all but one gate. I narrowly missed my opportunity to be a living artifact.

I am on the loose and ready for the next part of the trip. The bus is arriving any time now.

Be good... Christmas is nearly here.. Love you,

XXX