Hoi An - Unofficial Vietnamese-themed theme Park & Northface Backpack Heaven.

I went to Hoi An a few days ago and had quite high expectations of the place, which was built up by the numerous and unavoidable reports I had read online a few days prior.  I booked 3 nights in anticipation. Perhaps it would be a bit like Canguu, Bali but without motorcycles?

Hoi An was home to a major trading port; until it wasn't and the town attained a backwater status, halting almost all development and modernisation. It's a neat little place with some very nice narrow streets and shopfronts however it's blessing is also a curse as the old quarter is now almost entirely reliant on the tourism industry and so it can feel quite unauthentic, especially as you walk past a 250m row of stalls all selling tourist trinkets and overpriced Bahn Mi rolls at the Hoi An night market. It felt like being in a heritage theme park with a fusion of tourist oriented consumer goods (possibly from China).

If I had a remote shutter, this would be better.

 $3.70 NZD per night was the price of my accommodation, which was located just outside the old quarter. I set down my backpack and set out for the central market to grab some lunch.

As I approached the old quarter I started to notice some visual trends - first, the buildings were all painted this distinctive yellow hue, and second I started to notice a proliferation in hand woven handbags, Northface gear, and tailored suits.  I looked around me; the only Vietnamese-looking people were storekeepers and 'cyclo' drivers. Foreigners outnumbered locals by about 12 to 1.
The signs and menus for the cafes and restaurants were in English.

'Oh shit, I fell for the trap'.

At some point, a place can become so popular with tourists that over time the makeup of the local economy gradually shifts so that it caters primarily towards tourists, which is kind of like saying they 'sold out'. As a tourist myself I can't really complain as I am part of the problem although I do my part as a conscious consumer and don't buy trinkets or eat at restaurants with normal sized chairs and tables. (Although I did buy a dry bag from one of the shops there - which I managed to haggle 55% off the asking price, although is that really an achievement in Vietnam?)

There are some incredibly good Bahn Mi stalls in Hoi An.  Definitely check out at least one of these places out if you are here.
-Madam Khanh - The Banh Mi Queen
-Phi Banh Mi

If you're looking for some traditional Vietnamise foods which aren't Bahn Mi, check out the central market. (They have menus with prices - and they're all reasonably priced). There are about 10 different stalls but they all have the same menu and pricing. Try a different one each time.

If, like me, you booked more that one night in Hoi An and have discovered that you can explore the entire old quarter in less than a day, then perhaps you should consider hiring a bicycle and heading down south across the Thu Bon river to check out the countryside. The bicycles are mostly pieces of shit and have never seen a mechanic in their entire life but they're better than walking. There are plenty of opportunities to take mediocre-at-best photos of the rice paddies.

Or you could just stay in town, buy a dapper suit, and pick up some cheap North Face gear.

If I were on holiday for like 2 or 3 weeks I would, but I have to be hauling that shit around in a backpack across south-east asia so that's not going to happen.

Kinda like the Cameron Highlands but not really.

Batad village

When I flew into the Philipines, I never imagined I'd be spending time in the mountainous village in  Ifugao, Luzon. In fact if I recall correctly, I stumbled across a place called Batad by accident while searching for accommodation on google maps. I didn't actually do any proper research prior to going except for a a quick skim through the accommodation photos on Booking.com and a half-assed google search lasting no more than 2 minutes.

The overnight bus from Manila arrived at a small town called Banaue, about 12km from Batad village. It was 06:30 and I had slept around 1 or 2 hours, if at all. Immediately upon disembarking, all the foreign tourists were whisked away into a private van to the 'tourist office' for breakfast (not free) and a transport consultation with the freelancing taxi drivers.

Banaue town

I sat at one of the tables drinking my coffee. A few seconds later, the driver sat at the table opposite me. He had a pen and a small note pad.
"I can drive you to Batad, it's around a 20 minute drive in the van. I can offer you this"

He picked up the pen and wrote '800' on the note pad.
800 Pesos.

My immediate thought was 'hell no, I'll wait until 15:00 for the public jeepney'.

I was hoping he'd say something like 2 or 300 but I guess I really would be sticking around for a few more hours. After eating breakfast at a leisurely pace, I went to take a walk outside where I was quickly swooped upon by a tricycle driver/independent tour guide.

Long short I ended up arriving at the agreeing on 800 Pesos to get to Batad. (I got a tricycle ride up to the Banaue lookout point in addition to transportation to Batad). The driver informed me that due to the inaccessibility of the the village, the prices of food and drink would be higher that back in Banaue.

I arrived in Batad later that afternoon hauling approximately 27kg down a narrow path which in New Zealand we would call an 'intermediate level tramping track'. With an average tread rise of about 40cm, it's great for improving your single leg squats. The main path to the village looked like something out of Crash Bandicoot.

Main road into the village - Rocks sticking out of a wall

The view from the hostel overlooking the Batad rice terraces was spectacular, or should I say, will be. The visibility was less than ideal for the entire duration of the 4 days, and it was the 'off' season for rice planting so the rice paddies were mostly barren; however my only regret is not having a proper camera with me.

Batad Village

Spending a few days here the most interesting to note is how different the way of life is here. There is no cellphone reception, there are no motor vehicles, wood ovens are commonplace, the range of food options are very limited, and black-outs are a common occurrence. There was the feeling that you were really living on the edge of civilisation.

On the way out I got a ride on the roof of the public jeepney. This is the cheapest way of getting to and from Batad and I can highly recommend it. For no extra cost, you can opt to sit on the roof rack.  In fact i'd say it's better than hanging onto the back of a jeepney which is another thing I can recommend if you enjoy hanging onto the outside of moving vehicles.

I spent the next half day around the Banaue area, and although it doesn't have the same quaint character at Batad village, it's still a nice little town which really gives off a vibe as being the 'end of the line'; the place where adventurers stock up on supplies before making their descent. I'd say this is the most interesting yet overlooked area of the Philippines and I'd also say it's worth coming here just to get a ride on the roof of a jeepney.

Banaue town

Banue town

Manila LRT - Like being on an African slave ship but probably not as bad.

When I first arrived in Manila, took the shuttle bus from the airport arrival terminal to the Taft Avenue LRT station about 3km away (as the crow flies). The ride took around 30 minutes in total. I had been told numerous times that traffic in Manila was incredibly bad and now I got to experience it for myself.

It was rainy night and the shuttle bus reached the LRT station. I found myself in what felt like the Chinatown scene off Blade Runner 2049. 

I took this using my phone camera. (It's not that good)

I've always been a huge fan of all the MRT & LRT systems in every city I've visited. They are a cheap, intuitive, (usually) and fast way of getting around large urban environments. I was eager to hop into the LRT line and whizz away across kilometers of Metro Manila without having to wait in traffic.

Once I finally made my way to Taft Avenue station I was quite shocked at the entire setup of the system. Security scanners and X-rays at all entrances, winding queues of people waiting in line for the human operated ticketing booths. No station or route map in sight.
'Good God, this is some 1950's shit going on here' I thought to myself.

 I unloaded my two bags onto the X-ray scanner conveyor belt; the plastic bag with my snorkel fell out from my bag and came out seperately.
"What's this?" The security guard inquired, seeing a black tube sticking out of the plastic bag.
"It's a snorkel" I replied.
"Oh I thought it was a sniper" I heard her say quietly to her colleague.

Interesting Digression: Upon a quick glance, my black and slightly curved snorkel resembles either a gun barrell or a dildo. As of yet no one has called me out for openly carrying a black dildo around with me but I have been questioned on whether it is a gun on several occasions by security.

Disembarking passengers are bottlenecked by
a lack of exit turnstiles. 

 After passing the ticketing booth, I made my towards the platform where I joined what felt like 1/5 of Manila's population. The number of people was so great that there wasn't actually enough room on the platform and blob-like queue extended up the stairs onto the upper level. In my latter experiences I would come to find that the system is often run so much beyond it's initial capacity that even during hours typically regarded as 'off-peak', the carriages are filled to what would by Singapore standards would be considered maximum capacity.
The carriage was loaded with people to the point where my arms were locked in place by my sides and it was no longer necessary to stabilise myself as there was no room for any kind of movement - intentional or unintentional.

 If you were wondering what the LRT system is like in Manila, it's basically the ghetto version of the Indonesian LRT in Jakarta, and if you haven't ever been on the LRT in Jakarta, it's basically the ghetto version of the Singapore MRT.  If I could ever sum up what the Manila LRT system is like in a metaphor, I would say it's like 3 grown men sitting on a 125cc motor scooter - and you're the guy sitting in the middle. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then clearly you haven't spent enough time in south east asia.

In addition to the Manilla LRT there is the Philippine National Railway Commuter Line (PNR).  I don't want to talk about it if that's any indication on how highly I regard it.  (I've actually opted to discard my ticket and walk back to the hostel on one occasion.)

Don't get me started on the Philippine National Railway (PNR) commuter train

When is it ok to hit children?

Chinatown, Central Manila.
I had read that the further north you get from the Pasig River, the more 'ghetto' things become.  I never intended to go right to the heart of the Tondo neighbourhood but I was a bit curious as to what this part of town was really like. I'm not really the sort of person to shield myself completely from these sorts of environments and I had just purchased a Canon 1200d the previous day so I was eager to get back into snapping a few photographs.
As I crossed the Pasig river a naked man ran along the footpath towards my direction. He wasn't sprinting like a crazy bath-salt-possessed mad man but he still had the cheek to pull the fingers at me for the entire duration of his approach.
I had barely passed through the Chinatown gateway and already things had started to get weird.

Travelling really brings out the bean counter in me and I had intended on stumbling across a 1 peso water dispensing machine at least once on my journey but for some reason they don't seem to be a big thing in central Manila. Spotting a 7/11 convenience store not too far in the distance I went in to grab a cold drink and gather my thoughts. Some guy had just tried to sell me an Iphone X without a charger out on the street a few minutes ago and then a naked man had just run across the Pasig river bridge in front of me, what else could possibly happen today?

I sat down at one of the tables inside the convenience store and opened up a cold bottle of Powerade before looking up to see a street urchin holding his hand out for money.  I quickly grabbed my wallet from off the tabletop and stashed it in my pocket. Not being in the mood for awkward confrontation, I handed over 8 pesos worth of coins. Shortly after, the staff and security guard forcefully removed the child from the premises. Had I waited a few seconds later I'd be 8 pesos richer but it wasn't a big deal, 8 pesos is the equivalent of 0.23 NZD (January 2019).

Outside the 7/11 there was a group of about 4 street urchins hanging around the entrance knocking on the windows and staring inside. At the time I didn't think much of this until I left the store and found three young children pinching my skin, tugging at my arms, unzipping my bag and wiping snot and saliva onto my t shirt. I clutched my phone and wore my backpack on my front, fending away their strikes as I walked down the road. As a sheltered New Zealander I had never actually had to deal with professional street kids before and I was feeling confused as to whether it was ok to use violence against a young child. It's an awkward situation because normally you imagine only really having to fight aggressive adults.

This was clearly not the time for someone to bring out the old "well what would Jesus do?" question. This was also the moment when President Duterte's policy of using violence to communicate ideas and concepts started to make sense to me. To be honest I felt like smacking them in the face but I was also faced with the potential for being that guy who takes things way too far.

After an aggressive shove, the last child broke off and I quickly made my way into a church where I sat down for a few minutes to calm my nerves. I had barely made it into Chinatown and supposedly isn't even the worst part of the city. Already my adrenaline was being released into my bloodstream and I was entering a very different frame of mind. For those who have ever ventured into a large south east Asian city (that isn't Singapore or Kuala Lumpur) you have may experienced a kind of mental burnout which is a combination of the high temperature, noise, and chaotic visual stimuli. There are a few things which has can accelerate the rate of mental burnout, such as dealing with poor public infrastructure and people trying to extract money from you. After around two hours my mental stability was wearing thin and felt as If i needed to 'resurface' to replenish my mental oxygen.

I decided to call the mission off and make my way to the nearest LRT station where I proceeded to waste the next 2 hours catching the wrong train and then walking back home after being unable to secure a space on one of the carriages. That's another story.

In the next blog post I'll discuss my experiences using the Manila LRT system and sound like a snobby dickhead who's standards of public transport have been warped by spending too much time in Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.

I'll leave yall with one of the few photos I took that day.

Give me 1 Peso every time I see black Jesus and I'll show you a man who could retire at 24 years of age.