"...So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father's one and only son." (John 1: 14)
The people of Dalat are fervent growers, thanks to a cool climate that lends itself to an array of vegetables, fruit and flowers reminiscent of those grown on our home soil. Unable to flourish anywhere else in Vietnam, they are particularly known for their strawberries and hydrangeas, the latter of which has been a lovely reminder of our beautiful wedding day three months ago. The hilly countryside is bright and beautiful with the squares of crop fields, each one a little haven of growth making up a mountain side.
The town has a quirky pastel palette, and one might be forgiven for thinking they'd woken up in toy town. Houses are baby blue, pink, yellow, turquoise - a kitschy paintbox of a place. It was my passion for vegetable gardens that drew us here, and as a Christmas present to ourselves we chose a considerably nicer hotel as our home for the next few days. Particularly tempted, were we, by promises of a grand buffet breakfast (including peanut butter!) and hot tub.
The past few days have been both of rest and exploration, once again renting a motorcycle as we seek to discover the incredible countryside around us. Because of its cooler temperatures, the landscapes of the Central Highlands have a flavour of somewhere almost Alpine, and it's easy to forget in what part of the world we are. The familiar smell of pine trees combines with that of coffee beans, and the views are beyond breathtaking - yet so different to any other we have encountered in Vietnam.
Our first day took us along the winding roads to Nam Bam, a village 30km from Dalat. Our destination was a silk weaving factory, although really it was the journey that made the day such a memorable one. At a roadside cafe, a seemingly friendly woman tried to take advantage of our "white tourist" status by demanding 50,000 vnd (equivilent to almost 2 pounds) for a can of not particularly nice juice, which was, not only higher than UK prices, but, to put into perspective, one and a half times the amount we'd paid for a meal (including drinks) the day before. As the can was already drunk, it was difficult to contest, but after some arguing she agreed to 25,000, and so we paid and left, feeling considerably more downhearted as a result of this blatant display of dishonesty. The drive back did little to lift our spirits. Stunning though it was, the once beautiful day transformed into a torrential rain storm for which we were totally unprepared apart from my little raincoat that transpired to be waterproof in no way whatsoever. When we finally made it back to the hotel, not one item of our once warm clothing or footwear remained dry. That evening, unable to face wearing just my flip-flops, I sheepishly donned the socks and sandals, cold and still grumpy at the can lady.
The following day the sun shone again, so we headed out on our bike once more. Off to Lang Bien mountain, we had a glorious (sweaty) hike in the blissfully hot sun. I got sunburned. Stopping for a rest on the way up, some local students asked us to join them for some snacks and, what turned out to be, very good company. We hiked the remainder of the mountain together, and they reminded us that there are still good people in the world. A beautiful detour route back to Dalat took our breath away on more than one occasion. So clearly can we see the glory of God through the marvel that is this world, His magnificent creation. Home safe we parted with our trusty steed and headed for the hot tub - the perfect way to unwind at the end of a long and tiring, but satisfying, day. Back at our hotel, the staff had left us a present of Christmas cake. Our faith in humanity has been restored!
So today it is Christmas, our first of many as husband and wife. We enjoyed yet another exceptional breakfast of fresh baguettes, bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, peanut butter and coffee. That morning we relaxed in our room and listened to a Christmas podcast from Holy Trinity Brompton, to get our minds focused on the real reason for the season. The day has largely been spent sampling numerous Vietnamese coffees in the cafes around town, and, with much excitement, we found that our hotel TV, amongst all the Asian channels, was showing "Honey, I Blew Up The Kid", so we've even had our Christmas movie!
Our chosen "Christmas dinner" destination was as Western as one might find in Dalat, a little blues cafe with great live music - though my pork and mashed potato wasn't a patch on the feast that would be currently manifesting in one particular Glasgow home, the one that, on this day even more than most, is so very close to my heart. On the way there, Phil called his family using Skype, the wonder of modern technology that allows you to both hear and see each other no matter where in the world you find yourself to be.
On the way home it was my turn, and, after a particularly emotional chat with Mum, I was able to see and speak to all eighteen of the family guests who'd landed at the Craibs for Christmas 2010. So aware, were they, of a "Katie-shaped-hole", and, even more, I felt the void around me as I sat in that internet cafe surrounded by Vietnamese gamers, feeling that I should be in my cozy home in Scotland, surrounded, instead, by my wonderful family. But here I am with my new husband, and that is enough (more than enough). We have been on the road now for almost a month, and every day is an adventure. My appreciation for those family and friends we've left behind grows daily, and on like days like these even more so. But hard though it can be, I know that it will only sweeten the joy of seeing them again when this journey is over.
(ps - Thanks for reading! If you have been trying to leave comments and found yourself unable, we apologise. The settings have now (hopefully) been changed, so please comment away. We'd love to hear from you to know who is following us on this adventure. Merry Christmas!)
Sunday 26 December 2010
Wednesday 22 December 2010
A few of our moments so far...
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| Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong |
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| From a bamboo raft on the Li River, China |
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| A floating house in Halong Bay, Vietnam |
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| Xing Ping, China |
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| Eating Pho on the streets of Hanoi, Vietnam |
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| With our motorbike in Cuc Phoung National Park, Vietnam |
The long and winding road...
I believe that maybe there is a misconceived perception that travelling the world is always easy and rosey; a simple string of wonderful experiences between which one glides gracefully. This, I have learned, is far from the truth; the good is incredible, but definately comes with the bad and sometimes it can be truly gruelling. Recently we have been discovering the less glamourous side of travelling, one involving sixteen hour journeys, smelly clothes and gastric sickness (unfortunately inevitable, Phil and I have both succumbed). Sickness/homesickness and cold weather have dampered our spirits somwhat and in turn made me an unfaithful blogger, so forgive me as I attempt to summerise our travels of late.
From the hustle and bustle of vibrant Hanoi we headed to Halong Bay - a true marvel of creation, but disappointingly cold and misty. Back to Hanoi for our second visit, during which time Phil and I came to the realization that neither of us are particularly enthralled by, what feels like, the laborious task of trapsing round all the guide book recommended museums. Though not void of an interest in the history of a place, we have decided that our limited time is better spent basking in its living, breathing culture - the beauty of its landscape, the movements of its people, its way of life.
Next to Ninh Binh for something a little more low-key and a lot less fumagated. We rented a motorcycle for two days (no doubt to the horror of my mother) and headed to the nearby haven of mountain peaks and tropical jungle that is Cuc Phoung National Park, which was, asides from the growl of our little engine, totally peaceful and totally what we were in need of. Two days of hiking encompassed one freezing night in a stilt house, wearing most of our clothes and huddling together under two duvets trying to conserve body heat. Such experiences (Phil calls "character building") I find are binding us together in a way that a comfortable home life never could.
Ninh Binh to Hue - the four hours here were spent, first, locating the local hospital and, secondly, an English speaking doctor to whom Phil could hand over his crutches. The doctor was so thrilled that, despite our exhaustion from the twelve hour bus journey, his grateful handshake was enough to uplift and prepare us for the next one. And so we headed to Hoi An, Phil finally crutch-free and feeling very liberated. We give thanks to God for his healing, and to all those who have been praying for his recovery over the past three months. This day is long awaited!
Full of beautiful old buildings, tiny art galleries, delicious food and incredible textiles, Hoi An has placed itself as my favourite place so far. Famous for its estimated five hundred tailors, here, more than anywhere else, I have been tempted to splurge our money and stuff my rucksack within an inch of its life full of silk scarves and tie-dye tablecloths. I was, however, able to resist, but mostly because it was here that my sickness hit, which sadly put a rather large downer on such a wonderful little place.
On to Nha Trang, we indulged ourselves in a spa day to aid recovery from our illnesses. Wallowing like hippos in the mud was wonderfully relaxing, and I'm sure our bodies appreciated the break, but, as Nha Trang is famed as the party capital of Vietnam, it held little appeal for us, and so we headed for the Highlands.
Vietnam's landscapes are spectacularly diverse, and, as we ride these rickety roads to Dalat, it is a pleasure to see. Amongst the tropical rain forests, rivers and paddy-fields are some distinctively Scottish looking trees, which, at this stage of our journey, come as a welcome reminder of home. We are learning all the time, about ourselves and about the world. At least once a day, even when things are at there bleakest, we find something that takes our breath away, and in that moment you know it is all worth it.
From the hustle and bustle of vibrant Hanoi we headed to Halong Bay - a true marvel of creation, but disappointingly cold and misty. Back to Hanoi for our second visit, during which time Phil and I came to the realization that neither of us are particularly enthralled by, what feels like, the laborious task of trapsing round all the guide book recommended museums. Though not void of an interest in the history of a place, we have decided that our limited time is better spent basking in its living, breathing culture - the beauty of its landscape, the movements of its people, its way of life.
Next to Ninh Binh for something a little more low-key and a lot less fumagated. We rented a motorcycle for two days (no doubt to the horror of my mother) and headed to the nearby haven of mountain peaks and tropical jungle that is Cuc Phoung National Park, which was, asides from the growl of our little engine, totally peaceful and totally what we were in need of. Two days of hiking encompassed one freezing night in a stilt house, wearing most of our clothes and huddling together under two duvets trying to conserve body heat. Such experiences (Phil calls "character building") I find are binding us together in a way that a comfortable home life never could.
Ninh Binh to Hue - the four hours here were spent, first, locating the local hospital and, secondly, an English speaking doctor to whom Phil could hand over his crutches. The doctor was so thrilled that, despite our exhaustion from the twelve hour bus journey, his grateful handshake was enough to uplift and prepare us for the next one. And so we headed to Hoi An, Phil finally crutch-free and feeling very liberated. We give thanks to God for his healing, and to all those who have been praying for his recovery over the past three months. This day is long awaited!
Full of beautiful old buildings, tiny art galleries, delicious food and incredible textiles, Hoi An has placed itself as my favourite place so far. Famous for its estimated five hundred tailors, here, more than anywhere else, I have been tempted to splurge our money and stuff my rucksack within an inch of its life full of silk scarves and tie-dye tablecloths. I was, however, able to resist, but mostly because it was here that my sickness hit, which sadly put a rather large downer on such a wonderful little place.
On to Nha Trang, we indulged ourselves in a spa day to aid recovery from our illnesses. Wallowing like hippos in the mud was wonderfully relaxing, and I'm sure our bodies appreciated the break, but, as Nha Trang is famed as the party capital of Vietnam, it held little appeal for us, and so we headed for the Highlands.
Vietnam's landscapes are spectacularly diverse, and, as we ride these rickety roads to Dalat, it is a pleasure to see. Amongst the tropical rain forests, rivers and paddy-fields are some distinctively Scottish looking trees, which, at this stage of our journey, come as a welcome reminder of home. We are learning all the time, about ourselves and about the world. At least once a day, even when things are at there bleakest, we find something that takes our breath away, and in that moment you know it is all worth it.
Monday 13 December 2010
China...
In some ways I will be glad to leave this place where I am a giantess, fumes constantly pollute the nostrils and even Walmart (yes, China has Walmart) sells barbequed dog carcass. It was a fascinating country (the small part that we saw) but asides from the idealic Yangshou scenery, felt rushed and frantic and vast. And however good squats are for the thighs and bum, I do not appreciate having to exercise such a position every time I need to use the bathroom!
It very much felt like we were travelling through, and made me yearn for the lovely, warm comforts of home.
Vietnam, however, is giving off a very different kind of vibe. After the riot that was the Friendship Pass border crossing, I sat on the bus (whilst Phil soundly slept - head back, mouth open) listening to the haunting melodies of William Fitzsimmons and absorbing the beauty of this new place. Though not the limestone peaks of the past few days, still vibrant, green and growing.
Despite being only a border apart, Vietnam and China are quite different, from the landscapes to the buildings, which still exhibit the distinctive European flair of old French architecture. Our destination is Vietnam's capital, Hanoi, as described by our new Lonely Planet book as "the grand old dame of the Orient".
The population is 3.7 million and every one of those occupants, it seems, owns some form of moped, so every occasion of crossing the street feels like a near-death experience. There are pavements, of course, although rarely can a pedestrian weave his or her way through the countless locals on plastic stools enjoying steaming hots bowls of Pho (noodle soup) and the parked mopeds that only moments earlier were threatening to end our time on this increasingly fascinating earth.
For whatever reason, whilst the cities of China seemed intimidating and overwhelming, Hanoi feels comfortable and homely and not somewhere we want to rush away from. Maybe it's the coffee, for, oh, how the coffee is good! Having had withdrawal since we arrived, my first traditional Vietnamese "cafe sua" (coffee with condensed milk) was like a little taste of heaven.
There is also a vast number of Westeners, which, though one wants to act the carefree, independent traveller, does instill a great deal more confidence in us that we may have been lacking in big, bad China. Maybe we're finally easing into the travelling spirit, but whatever the reason, we're starting to feel like this unknown is where, for now, we belong.
It very much felt like we were travelling through, and made me yearn for the lovely, warm comforts of home.
Vietnam, however, is giving off a very different kind of vibe. After the riot that was the Friendship Pass border crossing, I sat on the bus (whilst Phil soundly slept - head back, mouth open) listening to the haunting melodies of William Fitzsimmons and absorbing the beauty of this new place. Though not the limestone peaks of the past few days, still vibrant, green and growing.
Despite being only a border apart, Vietnam and China are quite different, from the landscapes to the buildings, which still exhibit the distinctive European flair of old French architecture. Our destination is Vietnam's capital, Hanoi, as described by our new Lonely Planet book as "the grand old dame of the Orient".
The population is 3.7 million and every one of those occupants, it seems, owns some form of moped, so every occasion of crossing the street feels like a near-death experience. There are pavements, of course, although rarely can a pedestrian weave his or her way through the countless locals on plastic stools enjoying steaming hots bowls of Pho (noodle soup) and the parked mopeds that only moments earlier were threatening to end our time on this increasingly fascinating earth.
For whatever reason, whilst the cities of China seemed intimidating and overwhelming, Hanoi feels comfortable and homely and not somewhere we want to rush away from. Maybe it's the coffee, for, oh, how the coffee is good! Having had withdrawal since we arrived, my first traditional Vietnamese "cafe sua" (coffee with condensed milk) was like a little taste of heaven.
There is also a vast number of Westeners, which, though one wants to act the carefree, independent traveller, does instill a great deal more confidence in us that we may have been lacking in big, bad China. Maybe we're finally easing into the travelling spirit, but whatever the reason, we're starting to feel like this unknown is where, for now, we belong.
Saturday 11 December 2010
Yangshou
Our final day in Yangshou was, mercifully, warm and sunny. The mist around the mountains lifted, and we finally had a clear view of the peaks around us.
We decided to rent bikes for the second time to cycle 25km north to the village of Xingping. The cycle, this time on considerably less dodgy bikes, was incredible. Despite the terrifying Chinese driving that went on around us, we were totally distracted, once again, by the overwhelming beauty of this place. The peaks were even more stunning on a backdrop of blue and the surrounding landscape luscious, green and littered with orange trees.
Xingping was a picturesque little place that was only slightly spoiled by the hoards of middle-aged women demanding if "you want bamboo raft?" After a suitably Western milkshake (as China goes, this area is particularly geared towards tourists), we took one lucky lady up on her offer, and after some haggling we, and our bikes, headed off down the Li River on a bamboo raft.
It wasn't so much bamboo, however, as plastic masquerading as the real macoy, and fitted with one exceptionally noisy engine. But none of this could detract from the unbeatable experience of viewing those limestone peaks from the river. Such overwhelming beauty cannot be adequately described, and one has to wonder if the locals realise how priviledged they are to be living amongst it.
We decided to rent bikes for the second time to cycle 25km north to the village of Xingping. The cycle, this time on considerably less dodgy bikes, was incredible. Despite the terrifying Chinese driving that went on around us, we were totally distracted, once again, by the overwhelming beauty of this place. The peaks were even more stunning on a backdrop of blue and the surrounding landscape luscious, green and littered with orange trees.
Xingping was a picturesque little place that was only slightly spoiled by the hoards of middle-aged women demanding if "you want bamboo raft?" After a suitably Western milkshake (as China goes, this area is particularly geared towards tourists), we took one lucky lady up on her offer, and after some haggling we, and our bikes, headed off down the Li River on a bamboo raft.
It wasn't so much bamboo, however, as plastic masquerading as the real macoy, and fitted with one exceptionally noisy engine. But none of this could detract from the unbeatable experience of viewing those limestone peaks from the river. Such overwhelming beauty cannot be adequately described, and one has to wonder if the locals realise how priviledged they are to be living amongst it.
Tuesday 7 December 2010
To the river...
Following the traumas of Guangzhou, we were most relieved to depart on the sleeper bus to Guilin, a small city further North. According to the Lonely Planet's guide to China (which without we'd be lost ), the bus would take twelve hours. So we were prepared for a long night on this surprisingly comfortable bus, arriving in Guilin at 8.30 the next morning - an effective way of getting us to our destination whilst saving us one nights accommodation costs! What we were not prepared for was Lonely Planet lying to us. The bus took seven hours, and so, at 3.30am, we were deposited, half asleep, on the side of the road in Guilin. Thankfully a taxi was more than happy to take us to our hostel, and so we paid the extra night and crashed out.
Guilin is a much quieter city that sits on the banks of the Li River, and, though pretty, travellers tend to use it just as an access to Yangshou (as we were). But we spent a couple of nights here, the second of which we were adopted by two residents (one Chinese, the other Canadian), who took us out for an amazing meal, ordered things we would have been too scared to try and paid for it too; a total blessing when you are on the road on a budget. They also helped us with our Mandarin pronunciation, which we are attempting, much to the amusement of the locals!
The next day we headed for Yangshou, which, although covered by the mist of winter, is as astoundingly beautiful as pictures suggest. Surrounded by hundreds of limestone mountains, the scenery around this small tourist town is something us Brits could only begin to imagine. (Check it out on Google - our photos do not do it justice.)
After checking into a hostel, we rented some slightly dodgy bikes and headed for the infamous Moon Hill. It was quite a site to see, and after a steep, sweaty climb, gave us an incredible view of the surrounding landscape. At the recommendation of some Dutch travellers, we took the scenic route back to town, which, without a doubt, made for our most enjoyable day yet.
Hong Kong seemed a world away amongst the paddy fields, farming villages and limestone peaks. The natural beauty we had the privilege of being audience to that day was like the things dreams are made of, and no words could do it justice. Scene after scene of farmers tending to their rich crops have encouraged my vegetable garden vision. Life is different here, the kind of China we had expected to see, and I am in envy of its simplicity. In the UK, we're all jumping on the Eco-friendly bandwagon, but here, that is just life, as it always has been.
What we hadn't accounted for in this picturesque little place is how cold it would be. Travelling to Yangshou has taken us considerably further North in the province, and though not experiencing the winter woes of home, we are freezing and looking forward to the warmer weather of Vietnam.
Today it is 12 degrees and we are recouping. I am wearing both my jumpers and have my pajamas under my trousers. Phil's toes hurt so he is rocking the ultimate socks-and-sandals tourist combo.
Guilin is a much quieter city that sits on the banks of the Li River, and, though pretty, travellers tend to use it just as an access to Yangshou (as we were). But we spent a couple of nights here, the second of which we were adopted by two residents (one Chinese, the other Canadian), who took us out for an amazing meal, ordered things we would have been too scared to try and paid for it too; a total blessing when you are on the road on a budget. They also helped us with our Mandarin pronunciation, which we are attempting, much to the amusement of the locals!
The next day we headed for Yangshou, which, although covered by the mist of winter, is as astoundingly beautiful as pictures suggest. Surrounded by hundreds of limestone mountains, the scenery around this small tourist town is something us Brits could only begin to imagine. (Check it out on Google - our photos do not do it justice.)
After checking into a hostel, we rented some slightly dodgy bikes and headed for the infamous Moon Hill. It was quite a site to see, and after a steep, sweaty climb, gave us an incredible view of the surrounding landscape. At the recommendation of some Dutch travellers, we took the scenic route back to town, which, without a doubt, made for our most enjoyable day yet.
Hong Kong seemed a world away amongst the paddy fields, farming villages and limestone peaks. The natural beauty we had the privilege of being audience to that day was like the things dreams are made of, and no words could do it justice. Scene after scene of farmers tending to their rich crops have encouraged my vegetable garden vision. Life is different here, the kind of China we had expected to see, and I am in envy of its simplicity. In the UK, we're all jumping on the Eco-friendly bandwagon, but here, that is just life, as it always has been.
What we hadn't accounted for in this picturesque little place is how cold it would be. Travelling to Yangshou has taken us considerably further North in the province, and though not experiencing the winter woes of home, we are freezing and looking forward to the warmer weather of Vietnam.
Today it is 12 degrees and we are recouping. I am wearing both my jumpers and have my pajamas under my trousers. Phil's toes hurt so he is rocking the ultimate socks-and-sandals tourist combo.
Sunday 5 December 2010
Hong Kong
Hong Kong is a peculiar place.
Louis Vuitton, D&G and Burberry (all of which we were too scared to go into) sit comfortably, it seems, alongside street markets and food stalls; sleek buildings have been built next to run down high rises whose air con boxes are threatening to fall out into the street.
Everyone is in a hurry, all the time. It reminds me a little of New York City - enjoyable but exhausting; always moving, always noisy.
The smell. Hong Kong is a hot-pot of smells. The name Hong Kong translates as "Fragrant Harbour", although I'm not sure fragrant is the word I'd choose to use. One minute you can be gagging at the overwhelming stence of, what is probably, human feces, and the next inhaling the sweet scent of waffles.
Something you would never guess from pictures of Hong Kong is that there is permanent blanket of polluted smog lying over the city, which annoyingly stops you getting any decent photos. On our final day we travelled across Hong Kong Island to Stanley, where, blissfully, the sky was blue and sun shining. The Scottish snow of a few days ago suddenly seemed very far away.
We did some of the touristy things (Victoria Peak, the Star Ferry through Victoria Harbour - which disappointingly, not longer has any junk boats), but for the most part Hong Kong is just the kind of place you want to explore and absorb.
Our second two nights were spent with my friend Bart at his lush apartment block overlooking the harbour. The comparison to hostel USA was like that between lovely Louis Vuitton and a dodgy market stall selling knock offs! Our final night was spent eating cheeseburger pizza (taste bud heaven - seriously!), drinking cocktails and playing board games with Bart and cousin Calvin. The view from their apartment was to die for, and something we won't forget in a hurry.
The next day we were off on a bus to Guangzhou to get another bus to scenic Guilin. Arriving with 170 Yuan (not enough for the second bus), we headed for the cash machine. But having had no problems in HK, suddenly no Chinese cash macine would give us money. We were stranded with the equivilent of 17 pounds, no bus tickets and no way of communicating because almost no one in Guangzhou speaks English. After two full scale melt downs (poor Phil), I managed to call home. Dad got onto the Bank of Scotland, who called me (still in tears), and in a few minutes managed to register our cards so they would work in China.
All this last approximately an hour and a half, and probably doesn't sound as traumatic as it was, but with only enough money to stay one night, and the Western Union shut til Monday (it was Saturday), I'm not sure how we would have got ourselves out of it. When I heard the roll of the cash machine dispensing, I wept for joy, and praised (and are still praising) our faithful God for getting us out of such a hopeless situation.
Louis Vuitton, D&G and Burberry (all of which we were too scared to go into) sit comfortably, it seems, alongside street markets and food stalls; sleek buildings have been built next to run down high rises whose air con boxes are threatening to fall out into the street.
Everyone is in a hurry, all the time. It reminds me a little of New York City - enjoyable but exhausting; always moving, always noisy.
The smell. Hong Kong is a hot-pot of smells. The name Hong Kong translates as "Fragrant Harbour", although I'm not sure fragrant is the word I'd choose to use. One minute you can be gagging at the overwhelming stence of, what is probably, human feces, and the next inhaling the sweet scent of waffles.
Something you would never guess from pictures of Hong Kong is that there is permanent blanket of polluted smog lying over the city, which annoyingly stops you getting any decent photos. On our final day we travelled across Hong Kong Island to Stanley, where, blissfully, the sky was blue and sun shining. The Scottish snow of a few days ago suddenly seemed very far away.
We did some of the touristy things (Victoria Peak, the Star Ferry through Victoria Harbour - which disappointingly, not longer has any junk boats), but for the most part Hong Kong is just the kind of place you want to explore and absorb.
Our second two nights were spent with my friend Bart at his lush apartment block overlooking the harbour. The comparison to hostel USA was like that between lovely Louis Vuitton and a dodgy market stall selling knock offs! Our final night was spent eating cheeseburger pizza (taste bud heaven - seriously!), drinking cocktails and playing board games with Bart and cousin Calvin. The view from their apartment was to die for, and something we won't forget in a hurry.
The next day we were off on a bus to Guangzhou to get another bus to scenic Guilin. Arriving with 170 Yuan (not enough for the second bus), we headed for the cash machine. But having had no problems in HK, suddenly no Chinese cash macine would give us money. We were stranded with the equivilent of 17 pounds, no bus tickets and no way of communicating because almost no one in Guangzhou speaks English. After two full scale melt downs (poor Phil), I managed to call home. Dad got onto the Bank of Scotland, who called me (still in tears), and in a few minutes managed to register our cards so they would work in China.
All this last approximately an hour and a half, and probably doesn't sound as traumatic as it was, but with only enough money to stay one night, and the Western Union shut til Monday (it was Saturday), I'm not sure how we would have got ourselves out of it. When I heard the roll of the cash machine dispensing, I wept for joy, and praised (and are still praising) our faithful God for getting us out of such a hopeless situation.
Thursday 2 December 2010
We are here!
So, the flight was pretty awful!
After thinking he'd booked a seat with extra leg room, Phil had not one smidgen of extra leg room. After watching two mediocre movies (chick flicks, because I'm not allowed at home), I passed out from dehydration into the arms of an unsuspecting Chinese man who just wanted to use the toilet. Two more mediocre chick flicks and one horrendous "English breakfast" later, and we set down in Hong Kong.
Having not slept a wink on our 12 hour flight, I conked out on the transfer bus, and woke up just before we landed in a sea of people and neon lights on Nathan Street, Tsim Sha Tsui. After checking into our deceptively named "USA Hotel", we showered and headed out exploring.
On the way to a late night market, we stopped for a plate of fried rice and shredded chicken. I may be converting to vegetarianism, as the chicken was hot but, basically, raw, and that seems to be how it goes! We had ordered water, but apparently if you don't drink beer, you don't get your drink.
Back at hotel USA, we slept like babies (thank the Lord for earplugs), and thankfully neither of us has contracted food poisoning.
After thinking he'd booked a seat with extra leg room, Phil had not one smidgen of extra leg room. After watching two mediocre movies (chick flicks, because I'm not allowed at home), I passed out from dehydration into the arms of an unsuspecting Chinese man who just wanted to use the toilet. Two more mediocre chick flicks and one horrendous "English breakfast" later, and we set down in Hong Kong.
Having not slept a wink on our 12 hour flight, I conked out on the transfer bus, and woke up just before we landed in a sea of people and neon lights on Nathan Street, Tsim Sha Tsui. After checking into our deceptively named "USA Hotel", we showered and headed out exploring.
On the way to a late night market, we stopped for a plate of fried rice and shredded chicken. I may be converting to vegetarianism, as the chicken was hot but, basically, raw, and that seems to be how it goes! We had ordered water, but apparently if you don't drink beer, you don't get your drink.
Back at hotel USA, we slept like babies (thank the Lord for earplugs), and thankfully neither of us has contracted food poisoning.
On our way (from the plane)
If someone had told me when I first laid eyes/beer-goggles on Phil, that one day I'd marry him, I probably would have concluded them to be mad.
Yet here we are, 4 and a half years on, about to embark on this adventure; maybe the biggest of our lives. Of course, we have already begun the journey that is marriage; an adventure in itself; but having spent the past two months tending to Phil's every need (thanks to a broken ankle) in the comfort of my family home, I feel that maybe we are yet to experience marriage as it was designed to be.
However, this "great escape" is not a desperate getaway from Mum, Dad and four siblings. (I miss you by the way.) No, it is an escape from the hum-drum of life as it has been. A decision to, instead of experiencing the no. 40 bus to and from work every day, to experience the world - God's incredible, beautiful creation. It's an escape from restraint and regularity, routine and rubbish weather.
We hope this blog will allow you to join us on this journey, and maybe even encourage you to discover your own adventure...
Yet here we are, 4 and a half years on, about to embark on this adventure; maybe the biggest of our lives. Of course, we have already begun the journey that is marriage; an adventure in itself; but having spent the past two months tending to Phil's every need (thanks to a broken ankle) in the comfort of my family home, I feel that maybe we are yet to experience marriage as it was designed to be.
However, this "great escape" is not a desperate getaway from Mum, Dad and four siblings. (I miss you by the way.) No, it is an escape from the hum-drum of life as it has been. A decision to, instead of experiencing the no. 40 bus to and from work every day, to experience the world - God's incredible, beautiful creation. It's an escape from restraint and regularity, routine and rubbish weather.
We hope this blog will allow you to join us on this journey, and maybe even encourage you to discover your own adventure...
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