So, where to from there? Only onwards and upwards to more mishaps. Jakarta was the destination after Aceh, followed by a single hour transit in Singapore on the way to Vietnam. But arriving in Jakarta I was confronted with the nightmare that the ticket I had booked at the Aceh office of the airline had been miscommunicated and was on the WRONG day. This meant navigating the disjoint Soekarno-Hatta International Airport to find an airline and timing that would allow me to reach Singapore in time to connect with the Singapore-Vietnam leg. Yes, Guarda gave me the green light and inconvenience of a dead early morning flight but I would make it nonetheless.

Singapore. Let’s all follow the rules, because yes, that is what makes a disciplined progressive nation. Don’t take that durian on board the public transport, and no spitting gum on the pavement. And no, you really do need a visa before we will let you on the plane to Vietnam. Come on, since when did you ever need anything other than money to enter a third world country? Nhung, my close Vietnamese friend told me I could just pay a fat $100USD Franklin and say sorry like I meant it and I would be admitted to the communist stronghold. But I gave in to the airline staff early, and conceded to their line of argument that I really did need a visa to enter Vietnam, and yes I should have known this.

Was there any hope? Could I make it to the Vietnamese embassy in Singapore in time to get a visa? I would try. The Vietnamese embassy is located in an expensive leafy residential suburb, convenient if you are a Vietnamese official with a family, inconvenient if you are visitor who has to find the place because it has no public transport links, or even a taxi stand outside. They told me how it was – I could get an expedited visa in 24 hours, 23 hours after my flight from Singapore to Vietnam for a stiffly fee. I paid. I left. And then I collapsed outside on the roadside, with all my luggage around me, tired, upset, tears on my face because I would miss my flight to Vietnam. It would cost me hundreds of dollars for the visa and a new plane ticket, and worst of all I would lose a precious day of time with my Vietnamese friends. And to top it off I was lost, stuck in a stupid leafy Singaporean suburb with no transport options and 20+ kgs of luggage I had been carrying since the airport conveyor belt, the remnants of a life spent living in undeveloped Indonesia, which now lay beside me on the neatly manicured grass outside the Vietnamese embassy.

You don’t spend 7 months in Indonesia without hearing about a guy called Allah. He’s the guy (along with that other guy called God) who is supposed to be nice to you if say your prayers, help the poor, give up your seat on the bus for the old granny, or help out the guy whose car won’t start. Then if you’re ever stuck outside the Vietnamese embassy in Silly Singapore, he’ll take care of you. Well, I haven’t helped any granny’s lately, I never get around to sending mine even just a postcard, so why would Allah want to help me? He did. After 5 minutes I was picked up by a Malaysian guy who immediately sympathised with me being completely lost and without transport and offered to take me anywhere in Singapore. Along the way he convinced me that Allah indeed wanted to help me out, and that Allah had sent him to help me. I wasn’t complaining.

Let me start where I left off in my last email, way back in April. At that time I was about to go to Vietnam. Well I went to Saigon and the Mekong Delta (all in the very southern part of Vietnam) and the top 3 impressions I come away with were:

According to the guidebook no self-respecting backpacker should be without, the CIA World Factbook, Vietnam is 1 of the world’s 5 communist states. Those states are China, Cuba, North Korea, Laos, and SRV (The Socialist Republic of Vietnam – not to be confused with Special Reconnaissance Vehicle or Safety Relief Valve). According to the same CIA World Factbook, Communism is “a system of government in which the state plans and controls the economy and a single – often authoritarian – party holds power”. The SRV government has less and less of a hand in planning the economy these days, but it is still a one party state where you can be arrested for publicly criticising the government on grounds of being an “agitator” or “endangering national unity”. So I had to keep my tendencies to agitate and endanger national unity in check.

In June I returned to New Zealand for about 3 weeks. I spent my time with friends, family and the International Film Festival. It had been 1.5 years since I was last in NZ and I noticed that time has an effect on things. When things are slowly changing around you, you don’t really notice it but 1.5 years on I saw new businesses, new roads, and that some of the places of my old memories do not exist. As well as that, I had changed, which all added up to the NZ I left not being the NZ I returned to.

Back to Ratanakiri and I have been a bit of a celebrity lately, after my premier on provincial television (it runs for a good solid 30 mins each day) in an advertisement for an English school. I am the tourist who walks up to a shop but the vendor cannot speak English. Her daughter can and closes the sale – and that’s why you should send your children to Krou Yoeung Centre to learn English (so the ad goes).

There’s been a recent promotion for the “Tiger” beer brand in Cambodian, you flip the tab on the can and underneath you can win various prizes. A friend and I went to a restaurant where we proceeded to win about 3 free cans of Tiger beer. Great we thought, until the bill came and we weren’t given the beers free but had to pay half price. Why? Because the Tiger company gives you the beer free, but you still have to pay the restaurant their profit. Not quite my definition of “free”, but this is Cambodia.

Speaking about restaurants, one of the more interesting (or should I say bizzare) restaurants I have been to is Pyongyang Restaurant in Phnom Penh. The restaurant is North Korean, which you should know by now as 1 of the world’s 5 communist states. The waitresses wear strange ball gowns and try the hard sell with the North Korean wine. When they are not trying to sell the wine they break out into revolutionary song, dance, and harp playing. A strange place, not doubt as is North Korea.

I’ve caught up with a few visitors in the last couple of months. The first was a friend I had made while hitch hiking in France last year. Congratulations for being the first person I know from outside Cambodia to make it to Ban Lung, Ratanakiri! Her and her friends were the first to take the new tours being offered in Virachey National Park were I work. The second visitor was international man of mystery Mr Steve S. Previously shoulder tapped to study the Bogs of Belarus for British American Taboo, Mr Steve declined and instead packed up for a world trip. He was on the road when he stopped into Phnom Penh. Most recently my father visited in early November and we travelled to Siem Reap, and Hanoi and Hoi An in Vietnam. I think my father’s highlight was a ride we took on motorbikes along tiny dirt tracks and through villages to reach an overgrown temple some 2 hours out in the countryside.

Cambodia has a new king! At the start of November the new King was crowned. Whilst the previous King liked to sing to the public, the new King can sing and dance. Before becoming King he was, among other things, a ballet dancer. The streets were packed with people and a public holiday declared during the 3 day coronation. As for the old king, you can visit the royal blog in French here.

My contract is finishing at the end of this year, after which I will be unemployed and looking for the next opportunity, which could include study. I am thinking of travelling in Asia during Jan and Feb and then heading back to NZ in early March.