Da Lat is something like the Vietnamese St. Moritz. It’s the only big city in the country where hotels don’t have air conditioning. It’s chilly at 1500 metres. At the beginning of the last century, the French were thrilled by the opportunity not to sweat for a few days. They built 2500 villas, followed later by a small Eiffel Tower. Today, Da Lat is also very popular with the Vietnamese and quite crowded.
We are here because of the roads. First thing in the morning we saddle up our bikes and ride into the surrounding countryside. Again, it’s difficult to see or enjoy anything. A lot of Agent Orange has been sprayed here. It’s blinding. Surviving an American invasion increased our belief in our own immortality to infinity. The driving style of the Vietnamese is accordingly. (more…)
Roadkill Vietnam
On the very first day, I seem to have punctured my tyre. In the morning I patched the tyre, then set off for the mountains with minimal luggage. The first 80 kilometres are boring, but then the mountains begin. Due to a lack of signposts, we get lost and end up on a very small road to Da Lat. I don’t know whether the road has potholes or the potholes have roads. We often travel at just 20 km/h.
The first pass is a nice climb. After half an hour’s heating we are in the clouds. It’s getting cold in Vietnam for the first time, my clothes are too thin. Wisps of cloud cling to the steep rainforest slopes. Red earth burns under black clouds, Jörg’s exhaust pipe in front of my smart new history jacket. (more…)
Mui Ne: It can always be worse
Like everyone in Asia, the bus to Mui Ne is too early. This time 15 minutes, exactly one missed breakfast. The bus takes a full five hours to cover the 200 kilometres to Mui Ne. Endless street settlements pass by the window. Then the in-bus entertainment begins and I can’t understand the world any more. “Vietnam is looking for a superstar” is on TV.
Everything is interchangeable – songs, interpretation, presentation, make-up, dance. Everything is the same everywhere. Global dumbing down. Only the almond eyes indicate that we are in Vietnam. A small, proud country full of great history defeats a giant. First prize: the freedom to be an individual. Just as equal as the rest of the American world. (more…)
…or simply Saigon?
Saigon is schizophrenic, crazy, diverse, full of contrasts. The Americans have driven out the Vietnamese. Now they count in dollars. Vietnam is communist. Everyone fights for themselves on the streets. I walk the streets of the neighbourhood early in the morning. Endless poverty next to glittering shops. My millionaire status awakens the greed in many eyes that are narrowed with dust.
Many of the cyclo-rickshaw drivers are said to have been in the service of the Americans and, 40 years later, outlaws with no right of residence. I don’t know if the story is true. What I do see is that a striking number of them are quite old. But hardly anyone speaks English. A grey-haired, half-blind Vietnamese man with half my body weight drives me through Saigon for four hours. (more…)
Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh…
Britta probably didn’t realise how right she was about the song before she decided to leave us. I arrive shortly before nightfall. Seven taxi drivers communistically share the driving of my trolley. It takes ages for them to realise that my will to take the bus is stronger. None of them speak English.
Nevertheless, I arrive quickly and my first impression is that the Vietnamese love twinkling lights. Everything looks like a Christmas tree and twinkles. Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh. Merry Christmas and welcome to real communism. My hostel is in the centre of the city. (more…)
Bangkok for the third time: For designers
In Bangkok for the third time. By midday at the latest, it’s pouring with rain every day. The rainy season arrives just in time for my departure from Thailand. The thunderstorms don’t bother me much. Humidity was higher before, temperatures anyway. And in the morning you can at least breathe for 3 hours halfway free of smog. I throw myself into the last few days.
The most important thing: visa for Vietnam. The embassy needs two days for this and wants a rather uncommunist 65 euros for the visa. That’s why I’ve already sent in my passport with an agency from Krabi, which really made my stomach churn. I don’t have a place of residence in Germany at the moment. If the passport gets lost, that means massive problems. But the passport is there, with a visa. (more…)
Laptop funeral in Krabi
Krabi is the first reasonably large town in a good week. As soon as I arrive, I grab a motorbike and ride around looking for laptop shops. What I don’t want is large displays. The prices are almost at European level. But I have no choice. I have to buy a new one now. Repairing the old one would take a month and cost the same.
After a good day of searching for the best deal, I decide in favour of an Acer Aspire. Keyboard: English with Thai. Up to five characters per key. Definitely a good reason to improve my blind typing. The laptop runs Windows Vista. Nice bollocks. You have to confirm four times to delete an icon in the start menu. (more…)
Speedboat across the Andaman Sea
On our last day on Ko Lanta, we treat ourselves to something special. For a good 20 euros, we take a speed boat across the Andaman Sea to Ko Rok. Ko Rok was recommended to us by Lanta Fun Divers. They were right. At last the water is what you imagine paradise to be like: Turquoise, 20m visibility, hundreds of thousands of fish, white sand.
Despite the calm sea, the crossing is quite rough. I’ve never driven a speedboat before, but now I understand why these things need 100 litres of fuel over 50 km. A lot of energy is lost just by the constant hard impact on the water. At 70 km/h, the wind becomes a wall. The idea of taking my kiteboard and a rope with me was absolute rubbish. (more…)
Ko Lanta: Fun Divers
We continue on to Ko Lanta with a broken laptop. The arrival is beautiful: we are showered with flower necklaces and powder on our faces for the Songkran New Year celebrations. After missing two of my clients, one of the many pushers takes us to the Blue Andaman Beach Resort. The journey there is the longest waterfall of my life.
Tom shoots a picture with the camera of his life. Can’t show how wet it was. Open TukTuk. A new bucket of water every 10 metres. Despite the rain cape, everything in the rucksack gets wet. Tom splashes a gay man in the face, but gets a kiss from a whore. I love incoherence. I’ll add something about his parents now: Tom had a water pistol. (more…)
Ko Phi Phi: Thailand gone bad
Wir setzen über nach Ko Phi Phi. Auf der vollen Fähre läuft billig-Techno aus Notlautsprechern. Gute Einstimmung für einen Ort, über den jeder nur hörte, er sei das verlorene Paradies, nachdem hier “The Beach” gefilmt wurde. Der erste Eindruck ist gar nicht so schlimm, Keine Wolkenkratzer, und auf den Bergen gibt’s noch Bäume.
Es gibt wenig ebenen Platz auf dem größtenteils steil aus dem Meer aufragenden Ko Phi Phi. Aber der ist maximal genutzt. 2000 freiwillige Helfer für den Wiederaufbau nach dem hier recht glimpflich verlaufenen Tsunami 2004 leisteten ganze Arbeit. (more…)
The Phuket Poo
The Shanti Lodge in Phuket is beautiful, but also far away – from the airport, from the city, from the beach. I arrive quite exhausted and enjoy reasonably stable WiFi for the first time in weeks. I was expecting Tom and Christiane on the 10th. There’s a big hello when they suddenly turn up today. The food is great – and very expensive. Just like everything else in the lodge.
On the second day, we hire scooters and drive into Phuket City. The whole island seems to be one big settlement. Everything looks the same. Perfect for getting around. We get ferry tickets to Ko Phi Phi and go shopping. A 3-month parcel to Germany would cost 40 euros. So I carry my winter clothes from New Zealand with me until the end of my trip around the world. (more…)
Rafting in elephant country
Unrested, Chiangmai Adventures picks me up early in the morning in a minibus. There are only five people in the group. I’m happy about that. It’s a two-hour journey north to a remote mountain valley near Mae Taeng. The track is insane. I’m not at all surprised when a bulldozer makes a makeshift levelling of the road in front of us.
After 10 kilometres of washboard, we head out onto the river. Small inflatable rafts for two people, each with their own private guide. The water level is low, difficulty level 3, there are lots of rocks and little water, so it’s not without danger. After half an hour of leisurely paddling through the jungle, the first nasty rapids appear. (more…)
700km through the Golden Triangle
I’m back on the banks of the Mekong just in time for sunrise. The local longboat club is paddling their hearts out. Just 10 kilometres to the north, I’m finally in the middle of the Golden Triangle. Thailand, Burma and Laos meet here. Advertising signs advertise opium museums. A few expensive resorts pay homage to the old days in the middle of nowhere.
Many Thais here drive conspicuously fat off-road vehicles. Life still seems to be more lucrative than elsewhere in Thailand. The local police stations look like small temples, all the policemen have new uniforms. Justice is also worthwhile here. I pass through a good two dozen checkpoints by the evening. (more…)
Motorbike to the Mekong
Somehow I always end up having long nights before long tours. Early in the evening, I’m standing outside my room door and want to go to sleep. Then I hear Thais playing reggae in the bar 20 metres away. Good, a beer. The band looks like the Gorillaz crossed with Japanese anime characters. Weird, very weird. A Tyrolean woman on permanent holiday comes to my table, then four Americans. Whoosh. Two o’clock.
The skull from last night’s house-fuelled rum is still gigantic at nine o’clock. Six o’clock was the plan. After an emergency breakfast, I go to the bike hire shop round the corner. He changes the oil, for which I am grateful. Then it’s off on the motorbike to the Mekong. Chiang Mai only knows one riding style: kamikaze. No problem with the hangover. (more…)
Chiang Mai
The journey to Chiang Mai is stressful despite the deluxe VIP bus. The road has more potholes than tarmac. I sit right at the back, where it rocks the most and the backrests can’t really be folded down. What the hell, I’m used to travelling almost without sleep. The sunrise behind the mountains in Chiang Mai is bombastic. After a short search, I find a nice guesthouse.
Chiang Mai is built like a Roman legionary camp and has some parallels to Regensburg. Two meridians meet in the centre of a square fortification consisting of a city wall and moat with four gates. There is not much left of the walls, but the old town has some beautiful corners and of course plenty of temples. (more…)
Ayutthaya, city of temples
I can do almost everything I need to do in Bangkok. My walking boots have taken me halfway round the world. But now I’ve had enough. Getting size 46 sandals is quite difficult in the land of small feet. The first street vendor wants a photo of my feet. Web design is a little quieter at the moment, and that’s a good thing. My fingertips are still bleeding from Australia.
I make the most of the time. After two days in Smogcity, I take the Skytrain to the Victory Monument. From there by minibus 80km north for next to nothing. The biggest problem: at most 10% of all Thais speak English. And of those, 90% speak only rudimentary English. Should I learn something? Phrases like “Mai mai mai mai?” Put me off. The differences in intonation alone mean “New wood burns well, doesn’t it?” (more…)
Thai boxing in the red light district
I sleep through the afternoon. Then I’m hungry again. There are lots of tourist hotels on Silom Road. Food is more expensive, but still cheap. There are not just 1000 different Thai dishes. There is everything. Worldwide. I go to a Lebanese restaurant. Four huge courses, endlessly delicious plus drinks for eight euros. How much does heaven cost?
Red light is just round the corner, ticked off under “as expected”. Beautiful yellow women, ugly white men. On to the Lumpini Stadium. Tuesday night is Thai boxing night. The prices are steep, doubled since last year. I arrive at half-time and see three more fights. Tough but fair. The most interesting thing: the bookies with their hectic sign language. Black Tuesday in Bangkok. (more…)
Hello Thailand!
I arrive at Sydney Airport three hours before departure. Forgot a traveller’s cheque two months ago, run from pillar to post and back to get it back. Qantas only found it again at the gate. I have a crash landing before departure: British Airways has changed its baggage rules again. Drastic. I knew about it thanks to HP, but didn’t want to believe it.
I bought my round-the-world ticket a year ago. Because I was allowed to take 23kg of kite luggage for free. Now British Airways prohibits the carriage of any boards. Halfway round the world and then you’re allowed to leave half your luggage behind. Unimaginable for normal travellers. For kiters, everyday life from now on. Read the whole story at Oase. (more…)
Badbye Australia!
I’m happy to be leaving a country for the first time. All the countries were beautiful. Even the USA despite Bush. Apart from a few places, Australia was rubbish. Expensive as hell, boring, too big, too boozy, too touristy and lots of rain. Plus a ruined car, 2 cameras, a laptop hinge and a DVD drive. Cost for 8 weeks: just under 6000€.
Sure, it was a lot of money just for bad luck. But even the money that I used sparingly for travelling flowed through my hands in torrents. Only rarely were my minimum expectations met. A recent study puts Sydney ahead of Tokyo as the most expensive city in the world. If they had factored in tourism, it would probably be the most expensive city south of the Andromeda Nebula. (more…)
Impressions from Kings Cross
I’m back in Kings Cross. I have nothing against cockroaches. Only if they’re dead on my pillow in the morning. That’s why Eva’s Backpackers is the only choice. I’m sitting on the roof terrace. Bats fly over the Sydney skyline as the sun sets. The evening begins. The only backpacker-budget-compatible drink is wine from the carton.
We have plenty of that before heading to the mother of all bars one last time. The World Bar was magical two months ago. Magic can’t be planned, maybe not even repeated. I know it, but I never want to believe it. The evening is weird and wobbly. In the end, four girls sit down at my table for Hen Night. Two are devils, two are angels. The angels are devilish, the devils speak English. (more…)
A beautiful day
During the night, I dry my soaking wet kite in the room. The result in the morning: kite half dry, room and all my clothes look like they’ve come straight out of the rainforest. I check out and call Steve. Steve is a passionate National League poker player. He lost a few rounds against me on Fiji in the rain. Now we’re sitting in the sun and discussing our match plans over breakfast.
Then it’s off to Budawang National Park. Curious parrots sniff us out. Steve didn’t promise too much: The most beautiful beach in Australia. White sand and bright blue sea. Dolphins play in the surf. A sea eagle circles over a school of fish. There is no more wind today, so all that remains is hope. (more…)
Easter in Jervis Bay
There was hardly any sleep last night. Being awake was too important. The whole day until I leave for Sydney in the evening, I’m so wiped out that there’s no sleep again. In the afternoon I drive to the Southern Cross Terminal, then take the night bus to Jervis Bay. No extra charge for the kiteboard, empty bus and gigantic seat pitches. The sun sets behind me.
I sleep most of the night. The transfer bus from Nowra to Huskisson in Jervis Bay in the morning is a real experience. Completely empty. Comatose steel guitar country tunes. 30km through perfect neighbourhoods. Sweating joggers, children playing, fathers mowing the lawn, neatly framed flowerbeds. (more…)
Melbourne rocks!
After five days in the outback, I stay in Melbourne again. Melbourne rocks. If there’s any city in Australia that I’m going to miss, it’s Melbourne. Good food, relaxed people, lots of greenery. The beach in St Kilda, pleasant temperatures, nice pubs. The parks, the museums, the Yarra River. The hustle and bustle in the city centre and the peace and quiet in the neighbouring residential areas.
The most impressive thing about Melbourne is the music scene. The monthly concert programme is the size of the Süddeutsche Zeitung on Saturday. Within two weeks, Chemical Brothers, Jack Johnson, Nouvelle Vague, Mo Horizon, Hot Hot Heat, Juliette and the Licks, Black Crowes, Kiss, Alice Cooper are playing. I would have wanted to see 30 concerts within five days. (more…)
Kata Tjuta and Uluru
Departure on the second day is before 5 a.m. We drive on to the Olgas, or Kata Tjuta on Anangu. The Kata Tjuta are a formation of over 30 wind-cut sandstone monoliths and a sacred area for the Anangu. The temperature is around 40 degrees again. You get used to everything.
Again: dead trees in front of red rocks against a blue sky. Stinging sun, thousands of flies. Not new, but still beautiful. We hike about 7km around a few monoliths, it’s impossible to replace the water fast enough. Zebra finches in a tree. Then we continue by bus to the end of the journey: Uluru or Ayers Rock. (more…)
Australias Outback: Kings Canyon
I have booked a three-day tour into the outback. We set off before dawn in a medium-sized bus at 5am. The passengers: 18 women, 6 men and a good guide. Luckily it’s not as hot as yesterday. Still. On the first day alone, we have 800 kilometres to cover. I’m too big, or the bus is too small. No sleep.
There are a few short stops on the journey. An outback roadhouse. Patting a dingo lady. I order a camel burger and eat it with relish in front of his brother. The fellow travellers are quite nice, but after last night I only really warm up because of the steadily increasing heat. With every petrol station, the fuel gets more expensive, rising to 150% of the Australian average. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.