tom1bombadil

[tom1bombadil]

Goodbye Vietnam. 2/7/24

Man I hate transit. Ho Chi Min international airport still brings up some stressful memories. The news is that I should be back in Australia tomorrow morning. Not sure if that’s good or bad. Just news. I’m excited, yet indifferent.

I sold my motorbike yesterday and I had to hold back tears. Smile through the heartbreak. Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone as Gram would always say. I think that’s when I realised the adventure was truly coming to an end. One way of life changes for another. I guess that’s just how it goes. I’m well and truly old enough to know that by now but I swear it doesn’t get any easier.

If Suzy was senescent (and I’m pretty sure she is) and could talk (in growls and grunts) I’m sure their would be some stories and recollections recalled that I couldn’t remember. At times the furious, vibrant blur of Asia was too much for my brain. My mind seemed to detach from my body at certain points. I wish I could remember everything but I think it’s impossible. Ironically, there are also things I wish I could forget. I know that Suzy sees and remembers them all. I hope her new owner treats her right. Damn…. I’m getting emotional over an inanimate object again. If you haven’t travelled over a long period of time, with your life and fate in the hands of a machine or vehicle you probably wouldn’t understand. We did over 3.5 thousand kilometres. It does truly build a connection and fuck it hurts when it’s severed. Maybe you do know? I don’t know man…

I’m kind of worried about returning to being a working class, domesticated man. The present will be difficult to grasp with all my thoughts and memories. I can almost garuantee they will plague me on the 6.00am drive to work. Oh well. I’m planning my next adventure already.

Thanks too everyone that has been there for me this trip. Friends and family, old and new. I appreciate you all more than you could possibly understand. I don’t always express it, but yeah, thanks a heap.

See ya’ll in Australia soon :)

[tom1bombadil]

Battambang to ?? 27.6.25

So, today I woke up and felt well enough to drive. I have been super crook the last few days, similar to how I had been sick in Cao Bang. I was holed up in a hotel in Battambang. I didn’t get to explore the area which is frustrating. It supposedly has stunning scenery paired with an equally dark history. It was here I splurged on a delicious kebab plate, reminiscent of Aladdin Chicken in Newy. It was really really tasty but in hindsight equally as dodgy. Turns out that Western medications doesn’t always work for Asian sicknesses and by fuck I was sick this time. Fluids being excreted out of my body every which way you can imagine. Not that you would want to. Sorry.

I packed up my stuff and left. No more than five minutes after my departure was I directed by workers who had a truck blocking the road I was following. They gestured to use an alternate route to what my maps were showing. Okay, fair enough. No questions asked. This was not uncommon in Asia….

….I was directed over a bridge, and once I had crossed, I was rounded up by Cambodian police officers. The guy that pulled me over looked like an orc. No joke, his nose had been demolished and looked to be sewn back together by hand. He spoke no english and I was shit scared. What the fuck had I done. He gestured for me to park my bike. I was pulled over to a tent by another two officers.

It was there I met the head honcho, who also didn’t speak English but was familiar with google translate. He spoke ominously in Khmer into his smart phone. The translation read“50000 or Jail.” Surely he didn’t mean dollars, I didn’t look half rich in my current withered state. “Why?” I shrugged my shoulders and gestured. Officer Orc smiled and came lumbering over to show me a picture through his cracked phone screen. A red circle with a cross through the centre. The international symbol for one way, no entrance. I honestly didn’t think the photo was even from the same bridge but in that moment I think I made the right decision not to argue my case. I paid up the and got out of there.

When the sunlight hit my eyes I realised I was not alone in my arrest. Many Cambodians were lined up and distraught. They too had to pay the 50000 Reil ($18 AUD) for the traffic violation. It seems some new the drill. The paid up and got out of there. Those who couldn’t were brought to the tent to make phone calls to I assume friends and families that could cover the fine. The ones that could not were put in the back of a truck and taken away to god knows where.

At first, I thought it could’ve been an honest mistake. That me and my fellow arrestees failed to read an obvious traffic sign. My naivety vanished when I saw a police officer make his way over the bridge and pay the workers of the truck that had altered our paths. I’d heard from friends that Cambodia was corrupt as fuck, I just hadn’t seen it yet. I’m glad I had 50000 in Khmer cash, a rarity for me this last week. I doubt I would’ve got any change back from my $100 bill.

I continued on my drive, pissed off and increasingly wary. There were police everywhere. It must be revenue raising day for the government. Need some extra dosh to fund their lavish end of financial year dinner party while the majority of commoners live day to day in fear of poverty. Either that, or the police were all desperate to line their pockets. I know a government job doesn’t pay as well in Cambodia as it does in Australia. Probably gets you hated more by than the people than being an Australian copper too. Either way, these blatant shams of desperation and explotation build distrust amongst people, wherever you may live. I felt relieved that I could ride away not to bothered. This interaction would have no dire consequences for my future. I knew there would be serious repercussions for the other Cambodians caught up in the mix.

I managed to ride another 5 hours towards my hopeful/ idealistic destination of Kampot. By this time I was weak, exhausted, dehydrated and could feel my small meal of two 7/11 Danish’s trying to escape their human vessel. I’m in a hotel fuck knows where writing this now. Quite a memorable day really.

Oh yeah, also got new SIM card from a legend who wouldn’t let me leave until he got a selfie and sent it to me on Facebook. He told me he send it to his family first. It’s stuff like this, and days like today, that to me, makes Cambodia, Cambodia.

[tom1bombadil]

[tom1bombadil]

The Temples of Angkor. 22/6/24

900 years ago these temples were assembled. The Khmer empire flourished in power, wealth and prosperity. Like all things great and small they must too return to the earth. But by god do they put up a beautiful fight.

16 years ago I researched them for a school project. I promised myself at the young age of 13 that one day I would visit this place. I had worked hard and I deserved to see it with my own eyes. A promise is a promise if your name is Thomas. I’m glad I managed to keep this one.

2 days ago I saw some of the temples with my own eyes. I was awestruck, stumbling around in a beautiful daze, an ant amongst the timeless omnipotence.

1 day ago I realised I had forgotten everything I had learnt from the project and listened to my first ever podcast. I kind of liked it.

It rained today, but I will return tomorrow. Good thing I bought a three day ticket. The photographer for my pass proper mugged me off though. Oh-well.

[tom1bombadil]

Cambodia 🇰🇭. 18/6/24

I’m happy to leave Vietnam behind. Cambodia has been pretty good so far. Eye-opening, tragic, beautiful, raw and real.

I rode from Ho Chi Min city, crossed the border at Moc Bai and a spent my first night in the town of Krong Svay Reing. The next day I rode a gruelling 9 hours to Seim Reap, bypassing the capital of Phnom Penh. It was around 3pm when I witnessed a fatal accident, my second this trip. A young man driving an elderly woman on the back of his bike, I assume to be his grandma, swerved to avoid a pothole and got cleaned up by a truck. Everyone stopped. Locals and by-passers tried their best to help but there was nothing to be done but pile the bodies next to a pile of rubbish and wait for an ambulance. I wailed and shook. People seemed surprised by this emotion from a foreigner. I felt naive to this reality, that Cambodian people understand death and the pain that death brings. Almost in familiarity. They are not numb, but accepting. It seemed this wasn’t a tragedy to them. Sad for sure, but not tragic.

In that moment I felt way, way, way out of my fucking depth.

I hadn’t mentioned it in my earlier posts but on the road to Ho Chi Min while descending a hill in light rain I saw a family of three, mother, father and child slide over and go under an oncoming bus. Despite them all wearing helmets I saw the father’s head get squished like a watermelon. They all died. I can still hear the crunch. It was horrible and I’m still pretty shook. From both of these experiences.

I pulled myself together and got back on the road. Night was falling and I could smell that rain was coming. I could feel it. About 2 hours out of Siem Reap the grey clouds burst into a tropical downpour. I found a service station and by the graces of the owner I could rest in shelter. An hour later I was back on the road. The shop had to close and with it I had to leave. Pitch black, no streetlights, rain falling and me; jittery as fuck putting along the highway at 30km per hour with only my faded yellow light to lead me. I arrived to the Gecko Hostel in Siem Reap to a warm welcome and an outburst of relief. After a solemn conversation about life in Cambodia with my host and now good friend Bhunna I slid into to bed. I dreamt I was still driving my bike down that dark and rainy road. I couldn’t, shouldn’t and mustn’t fall asleep. The same fate would surely await me as those poor people I had just witnessed die.

I didn’t take many photos these days. I was way too invested in surviving and making it to my destination. It was immediately obvious that Cambodia was still developing. In the country, sidewalks are rare, many roads are dirt, bumpy and the infrastructure was way behind that of Vietnam. Products of genocide and civil war impeding development. The remnants are obvious even to an untrained eye. As kind as the Cambodian/Khmer people are, I’ve learned everyone has a story of family members, friends and relatives that died in recent memory. Regardless, their kindness, kinship and hospitality knows no bounds. I am amazed, humbled and truly blessed to live the life that I do.

[tom1bombadil]

A city of 9 million. Day 3 & 4 Bangkok.

Karaoke, fine dining, 7/11, boating, speeding tuk tuks, temples and a blur of laughter and love. Boy, am I ever grateful for my friends.

[tom1bombadil]

Bangkok Night 1 Day 2: Part 2

[tom1bombadil]

Night one Day 2 Bangkok. 13/6/24

Arriving in Thailand, I knew instantly, that I was no longer in Vietnam. The transport systems and infrastructure of Bangkok seemed far superior. A kingdom untouched by colonial oppression, its advanced development showed. I was really happy to be here after the days stressful fiasco.

Early the next morning, I met Will and Rose to ride the “death railway,” built during WWII. It was rapidly assembled at the time with many casualties. The line headed north west out of the city towards the Burmese border. It was a relief to let someone else take the wraines of the adventure. For the first time in nearly two months I felt like I was truly on holiday. We walked railway tracks through the jungle and enjoyed the local cuisine. My bruised butt was still sore, but I was free for once to daydream the pain away.

In the evening after some much needed lateral rest, Will, Rose, Jess and I headed into the city and visited some secret bars. Very fancy.

[tom1bombadil]

Right Place Wrong Month. 12/6/24

As many of you know I pride myself in calmness and punctuality when it comes to transit situations. I’m an expert at getting places on time when necessary because there aren’t many feelings more horrible than transit stress. I planned to fly to Bangkok on the 12th of June at 3.50pm. I got to the airport at 12.50pm. I had time for one last Vietnamese cigarette before checking in with AirAsia. The line was quick and it didn’t take long before I was weighing my bag and having my passport and tickets checked.

I was jaw gaping, horrified and grief struck when notified by the airline worker that my tickets were in fact dated for departure in July, returning on the 16/7/24. I had booked a month too early. Fuck me man, I thought, I’m losing the plot here. How the fuck have I managed this. This is what you’re relatively good it. Obviously not. What I’m good at is seeing the big picture and missing the more important, sometimes tiny details that make the picture possible. Like a singular number, or a few small words.

Luckily enough, they might still have space on the flight. Only problem was I had to wait up to 3pm for confirmation. This left only 30 minutes for the mad dash through immigration. Risky, but I went for it. I bought into the madness and with ushering help of airline staff I made it to the gate by the skin of my teeth as a V.I.P fligher. Must be what its luck to be a rockstar or presidential candidate. Really, just an incompetent 29 year traveller who is thankfully just as lucky as he is stupid. Yin & Yang.

I was stoked I had made the flight, it only cost me $150 to change the departure date. Unfortunately, I had my pocket knife confiscated which I’m pretty devastated about. It’s so blunt it could barely butter bread but try explaining that intricacy in Vietnamese. I just bit the bullet and legged it. Anyways, who cares. I’m off to visit Will and Rose in Bangkok.

[tom1bombadil]

Yo Chi Min City. 11/6/24

I’m once again sitting in the VNVC, over 1500km away from where it all started. When I say “where it all started,”I mean where I got bitten and where I lost my bank card. It’s a lot further than that to Chinese border.

I had my last vaccination today and can proudly say I no longer feel like ripping into the nearest flesh, human or animal; to pass on the pathogens that maybe, just maybe have been controlling my brain the last month and causing me to act slightly irrationally. Sorry.

I’ve made some really good friends at the Cactos Homestay where I reside. Cameroonian and Vietnamese. Cats, dogs and frogs. We ate a delicious seafood hot pot banquet and talked about the world and its revolutions around us. Octopus, calamari, prawn, clams, fish, beef and chicken feet for all you prison break fans out there. Bucket list stuff.

We road our bikes through the enormous metropolis, this time in comfort. I had the chance to soak in the vibrance and beauty from which I was previously blinded by fear, concentration and the utter vigilance needed in order to survive the city streets.

[tom1bombadil]

The road to Ho Chi Min. 10.6.24

I took the longer of two routes which took me through provincial farming areas of the south central highlands. Narrow, hedged country lanes spiralled through a sea of green fertile crops and happy farmers. The evening ride through the outer suburbs of Ho Chi Min was stark in contrast. 5 lanes of traffic. Buses and trucks out to kill me. Hordes of motorists zipping in and out between them …..

…and me on my poor old worn out, over driven steed, chugging along, petrified that if I should so happen to stall, she might not start again. My fears were realised 4km away from my homestay on one of the busiest roundabouts in the city. I stalled and by god the engine would not start again. I thought I was doomed and rightly so. Traffic continued to zoom around me like sharks circling a raft at sea. It took about 5 minutes and 40 stagnant attempts before my prayers were answered. Some sort of divine intervention. I always speculate the intentions of the powers of the unknown, the gods I guess. Whether they love me or hate me. I think they like to watch me squirm and struggle, rewarding my persistence particularly when the situation maybe seeming dire and insurmountable. Call me pagan, I don’t care. Maybe I am. When Suzy clicked over and the engine started I howled like a wolf. I doubt anyone heard it over honking, screeching breaks and the guttural roars of 1000 bike engines. Still, I think it was in my top 3 decibels of screams, just edging out the time I poured rubbing alcohol in an open cut on my foot a year or two ago. Goober.

[tom1bombadil]

Dalat. 9/10/24

Dalat still looked, felt and sounded like a Vietnamese city…. but its foggy setting amongst the clouds and pine trees gave it an eerie magical feeling. The two hour ride up the mountain was one of my toughest yet. Yes it was rainy, but this time it was freezing cold as well. I decided to book a hotel with the hopes of a steaming hot shower to warm up my wrinkled numb fingers. Alas, there was no hot water. Typical. Feeling lonely and forsaken I wandered the town pondering my seemingly futile existence. I stayed an extra day here, mentally preparing for the gruelling 9 hour ride to Saigon which would inevitably follow.

[tom1bombadil]

Hoi An to Tuy Hoa. 6/6/24

My bike has been fixed for now. Hooray! Its engine now wakes with a sluggish, guttural growl; but starts nonetheless. To be honest I’d be pretty slow getting going too. If I’d been ridden thousand of miles on burning hot/ flooded tarmac every other day, I doubt think anyone could fix me. Ever. I feel like these two weather extremes aren’t great for bike engines or humans engines.

I’ve been feeling pretty flat the past week. I struggle to eat enough food due to the heat; inducing nausea, faintness and an absent mind. At times I even feel a bit lonely, which is strange, because I believed it was a state I am already very familiar with.

I’m incredibly excited at the possibility of leaving Vietnam in 5 days time. That is why, despite feeling physically atrocious, I completed the longest leg of my venture yet. This 372km took me 8 hours and was some of the most gruelling, mind-bending & chaotic riding I have ever done. After 4 days of cabin fever I was ready to get as close to Ho Chi Min/ Cambodia as possible and I consider this feat a near Herculean Effort, for an ever so obviously mortal man.

[tom1bombadil]

Stuck in Hoi An. 3.6.24

Well, to be honest, I was a little bad sad to bid farewell to this beautiful city of lanterns. I’d had a relaxing time, but my itchy feet were once again ready to hit the road. I begrudgingly packed my things, strapped them onto my bike and prepared for departure.

For some reason or other my beloved Suzuki failed to start. At first I thought I just need to try a kickstart, which I did to no avail. After two hours of YouTube DIY videos I came to terms that I was not a motorbike mechanic. It would be in my best interest to seek professional help before I cause any more damage.

I got a push 500m down the road to the nearest mechanic, thanks to my homestay owner. The road behind me on his own motorbike, pushing me and Suzy with his right leg. All I had to do was steer and try not to brake, only if an oncoming collision seemed imminent. It went pretty well I’d say. Another skill to add to the toolbox.

My new found sense of accomplishment was short lived. It was going to take up to three days to fix my bike. “Big problem, long fix, new part,” was all the translation I could grasp from the 30 minute interaction. The mechanic showed me with his micro camera oil seeping into a part of the engine where it apparently shouldn’t be. It’s gonna cost me 2 million VDN, about $120. I was tempted to offer more to fast-track the process but I understand that is not how things work here. The pride and righteousness of Vietnamese people is far more important than money, for what I understand.

Anyways, three more days to go….. fingers crossed my mans can get Suzy Q up and running by then.

[tom1bombadil]

My left big toe nail is blue and throbbing. It hurts a little to much too sleep and by god I wish I had something to numb it….

Turns out that three days of playing sports and competing fat too enthusiastically; in shoes half a size too small, will eventually take a toll. The two nights of basketball previously; compounded by my football debut today, proved all too much for my oversized feet. Vietnam sell shoes up to a European 45, of which I am 45.5-46 depending on the brand. No big problem right? Or no problem too small? I’m not too sure…

I somehow managed to score the first two goals of the football game. Much to the amazement of the crowd, and my team, the lanky foreigner (me) managed to put the ball into the back of net twice in two minutes. Unbelievable right? I think caught the oppositions keeper unawares. Seeing my first shot soar over 10 meters of protective netting and into the 6 lanes of traffic dividing field from field must have given him quite a sense of security. In hindsight, it’s quite lucky I didn’t hit one of the 300 commuters zooming each and every other way. That would be another tough explanation to my ever so helpful travel insurance providers.

Our team ended up winning the game 6-2; not that my bright red sweaty face and cramping legs were much help after 20 minutes of the hour long game. Anyways, it was a good enough performance for me to be invited to dinner by DaNa surf shop workers Basti, Tony and his wife rose. We ate fish, pork ligaments, morning glory, curried quail eggs and tofu.

Basti is a German expat working as a surf coach. Professionally a scientist who works on his papers when to surf is bad. Unfortunately, it has been bad a lot. Tony works at the surf shop and hires out surfboards. He is super chill, loves football and a big fan of cards games. Rose is a mother, jackfruit enthusiast and economist who is studying in her spare time to become a barrister.

[tom1bombadil]

Da Nang

I think I’ve spent 5 nights here. My concept of time is starting to disintegrate.

I’ve been surfing, exploring and playing basketball; a routine that I love regardless of where I am in the world. The waves aren’t great, the water is warm, the sun penetrates 50-spf sunscreen but I enjoy it nonetheless.

My knock off Nike basketball shoes are the definition of dodgy but I still enjoy the games; although I have to slow my pace down. I’ve been finding deceleration hard when you have to build a reputation as a solid bucket-getter to be chosen to play. If you don’t win the game, you’re waiting 45 minutes to play again. The competition is fierce and different but I embrace the challenge.

[tom1bombadil]

Hai Van Pass. Hue to Da Nang. 23/5/24

A beautiful ride along the coastal plains, around saltwater lakes, fishing villages and the mountains that enshrine them. Coming into Da Nang at 5pm with rush hour and rain was maybe my most hectic driving experience yet.