From Bus to Bus to Bean to Cup - Luang Prabang to Pakse

We awoke at 6AM to squeeze in a noodle soup and a Lao coffee before hopping in a tuk-tuk to catch a bus bound for Vientiane, the capital of Laos. This is a face I've become oh so too familiar with in Asia - the half asleep, zombified Nicola drowsy yet content with her bowl of porky broth.

The bus took off half an hour late - no biggie, clocks and time aren't really a thing in Laos. They're just a rough guide and we'd become accustomed to that by this point. 

We left Luang Prabang and crawled up mountains for hours finally stopping at 1PM for lunch after the requisite couple of roadblocks and pee stops. However this was a fancy farang bus, no roadside bush weeing here. Instead you pay 2000 Kip for bathrooms with no doors and for the second time in two months I opened the door to a woman squatting, stretching desperately to try and push the door shut. Really? Why me?

We shared lunch with this dude. He was cool, if a bit sad.

On we pushed in our VIP King of Bus and it was mid afternoon that we realised this bus wasn't getting to Vientiane by 6PM, or anywhere near that time. Car after after truck after truck after crazy truck-bus thing were lined up not going anywhere. 

We got off the bus and the entire village was by the roadside watching proceedings and it became apparent that this wasn't your normal roadworks stop. Something a bit more serious was at play. The rumours began - 'someone's rolled their car and we're stuck', 'there's been mudslide', etc, etc...

After about an hour watching ladies bathe in their sarongs and pigs snorting around all over the place our driver threw his hands up, tooted the horn and signalled for everyone to get back on the bus. We drove slowly past the procession of vehicles and discovered why we hadn't gone anywhere - a two k stretch of thick, wet, muddy, clay that no one was willing to attempt driving through. Bar our exceedingly optimistic bus driver.

We began to crawl through the mud, you could have literally walked faster. At one point we almost slowed to a stop, the wheels began to spin in the mud and a couple of locals gave a look like what the f*ck does this guy think he's up to. Bravery is rewarded though and he somehow got us through it. Now only a further five hours to go on old bumpy roads that are falling to pieces lay ahead.

All of this would have been a lot more bearable if not for the five young, very obviously private schooled, English girls who talked sh*t the entire journey. They genuinely didn't have an interesting, enlightening conversation during the 15 hour trip. And one of them would decide to sing a few lines from a Spice Girls song every now and again. That pretty much epitomised the intelligence of the pack of moths that populated the back of the bus.

We finally arrived at the bus station, still a half hour tuk-tuk from central Vientiane along roads and through a part of Laos that made you feel like you were arriving in the most backward of backwaters - not the capital of a country.

Once in Vientiane, we circled a couple of blocks looking for a guesthouse where by 10pm all were either full or had rooms available at thrice our budget. We fluked a cheap room with a fan, no bedbugs and the faint smell of sewage being emitted from the bathroom. It was a win at the time.

The great thing about arriving late somewhere in Laos is the 11PM curfew so by the time we were ready to hunt out dinner everything was closed and the best we could do was a cup of noodle soup, a five day old steamed bun, a chocolate bar and a beer from a mini mart. We were smitten with Vientiane at this point.

Aside from an epic storm the following day complete with exploding power poles, fire extinguishers caked in five years of dust and grime and the very real concern that we were about to witness someone getting electrocuted whilst they fiddled around with the power pole in the rain in thongs, Vientiane didn't really make us regret our planned one night stop.

Here are some awe inspiring photos from Vientiane.

Thankfully, we were heading south and Vientiane was just a stepping stone to Pakse. We took an overnight sleeper bus. This wasn't just any bus though.

All the seats are taken out and replaced with flat beds complete with pillows and Winnie the Pooh blankets, making for the best overnight transport experience you could ever imagine. Oh, and the fact that we took enough Valium to knock out a water buffalo.

We landed in Pakse at about 730AM and were checked into a guest house by 756AM. Can you imagine doing that in many places other than here? 

We'd intended to do a trek from Pakse but when the guy at the travel agency was like, "oh, you might be lucky and hear some birds in the distance", we decided to save the US$340 and hopped on a scooter and headed to Tad Fane waterfall instead, where Koffie runs tours of coffee plantations and takes you through a roasting workshop. Yes, you read right, Koffie's Coffee.

The tour was interesting seeing the differences between the Robusta and Arabica trees and tasting coffee berries but the workshop was the headliner.

Koffie moved to a town not far from Pakse and through trial and error taught himself to roast beans in a wok (an implement you're obviously never far from here).

Within an hour Koffie had us in control of the wok and whilst we aren't able to get the kind of consistency in roasted beans that you'd get from a bag at home, we'd created something that was very drinkable.

Koffie immediately ground up the freshly roasted beans and we enjoyed a still quite green tasting but very enjoyable cup of the good stuff. By this point the sun was starting to drop and Koffie pushed us out the door, two freshly roasted bags of beans in tow, and we cruised back to Pakse with Nicola clinging onto the back of our moped and the sun sinking down below the mountains making for a beautiful end to one hell of a great excursion.

Koffie's concept is simple. You don't get there and fiddle around with tens of thousands of dollars of machinery and create a cup of coffee that you have no hope of replicating at home. You wok roast the beans, grind them up in a simple burr grinder and brew them with the classic Italian moka pot. You walk away with the confidence that with a bit of your own trial and error you'll be able to reproduce a decent coffee at home, from green beans to cup. 

On top of all of that, Koffie is a cracking guy learn from. All details on his workshop can be found here.

Now it's time for hammocks, beers and nothingness at Laos' famous 4000 Thousand Islands.

High on Chiang Mai

After years of dreaming, we'd finally made it to Chiang Mai. I can't put my finger on exactly what it was that made us become so obsessed with making it there but after just 24 hours in the city anything we'd ever hoped for had been realised.

Just 15 short hours of travel got us there and the first port of call was a bowl of noodle soup followed by a few beers on the moat that rings the city, watching rats crawl in and out of drain pipes and a father and son attempt to hook a few of the fish that the moat is loaded with. They told me the name of the fish but I don't seem to be able to write or translate Thai.

The next morning we headed off and fed our temple addiction before walking out to Akha Ama. 

Coffee is a big, big deal in Chiang Mai and these guys are one of the main players. I started off with a decent espresso and Nix a cold drip, or 'Black Juice' if you will, and we shared a shakerato (a double espresso shaken with ice) which presents like a Belgian brune and has been added to the home recreation list.

We stopped at a couple of other nice thirdwave outlets and it never ceases to amaze me how impressive these coffeeshops in places like Chiang Mai are. A lot of what we saw in Chiang Mai wouldn't be out of place back home.

The rest of our time was spent lounging around, plotting our next moves, reading and refining backgammon strategies before heading out at night to one of the many, many markets that make Chiang Mai so famous. There is some very cool stuff on offer and good food. There's also a f*ckload of swanning.

We've just come from the east where people move through markets in a clockwise direction and it's one of those moment in your existence where you go, 'wow! People can operate together in a logical manner and not defy rational thought'. In Chiang Mai though? Throw a few tourists in the mix and all that rational thought goes out the window.

People go against the tide, across the tide, whole groups stop in the middle of proceedings and people just generally become disgustingly selfish and outside of what they want in that exact moment, nothing else matters.

So yes, the markets were cool but god people can be shit.

Our market highlights were the morning Warowot and Dok Mai markets. We started off with breakfast in an alley tucked beside Dok Mai that consisted of Crispy Krullers and pandan Kaya with two steaming hot glasses of sweetened soy milk on the side.

After that we wandered through the Dok Mai market seeing someone else's breakfast writhing about before I let Nix loose in Warowat market.

She passed the Thai wife test acquiring some Chiang Mai style sausage, Nam Prik Noom and pork rind, and some coconut jellies. Second breakfast of the morning was served.

Of course there were some other food highlights too. Khao Kha Moo from the cowboy hat wearing lady at Khao Kha Moo Chang Phueak, Northern Thai style Laab at Sorn Chai and a pomello Som Tam at Huen Phen were all very memorable and have left a very nice Chiang Mai flavoured taste in our mouths...

Incredible Istanbul - Ten of the Best (Part I)

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: I've got to make an apology. As much as laying on beaches and reading books and working on our tans and drinking cheap beers is a pretty good life for us, it doesn't make for very good blog reading for you, my faithful readership of five actual people and six internet bots.

I hereby pledge that from this point forward, until we set foot back in Australia, we will try to do some exciting, interesting shit and keep the posts about us lazing about on Turkish, Cambodian, Sri Lankan beaches to an absolute minimum. So, starting now, strap yourselves in for a wild ride Mum, Mum, Dad, Dad, Lizzy and bots 1 to 6.

Great cities are about layers. Nope, scrap that overused metaphor. Great cities have many different faces. Hmm, nope, try again. Istanbul: where East meets West, where new meets old. Lolz. Great cities have lots of shit going on that comes at you from all different angles and levels. Regardless of what shitty metaphor I come up with, Istanbul is without a doubt a great, great city.

Street food vendors dot every part of the massive, sprawling city, cats prowl, sleep and judge on every corner, ferries infest the waters that divide Europe from Asia and the new town from the old, the call to prayer fills the skies with music (and wakes you up way earlier than should be considered appropriate), Muslim women in burqas and headscarves walk side by side Western women doing their best impression of cheap street whores, and the list goes on. The point that I'm trying to make is that I don't think we've ever been in a more engaging city and we may never be again. So, here are the top ten things that we saw, ate, drank, did and enjoyed in Istanbul.

Basilica Cistern

The Blue Mosque is beautiful and anytime that you're in a still practising mosque it's a privilege and an honour.

And Aya Sofya is epic and amazing.

But we left both feeling that they hadn't lived up to the expectations that had been placed upon them. The Basilica Cistern on the other hand is a sight that did meet our expectations. Built in AD 532, this cistern held an f load of water for the Grand Palace and its surrounding buildings and aside from the fellow hoard of tourists, is one of the most tranquil and relaxing places in the city.

Turk Kahvesi

Turkish coffee. Pretty much my ultimate coffee. Thick, black and just a little bit sweet.

All throughout the city you'll be able to get yourself a decent Turk Kahvesi but if you're ever in Istanbul there are two names that you need to remember - Fasil Bey's and Mandabatmaz . Both produce Turkish coffee that is next level. Cemil at Mandabatmaz is a little unorthodox in his approach to making it and is an absolutely joy to watch from the back of his cafe as he goes about his craft.

Ferry Infestation

Ferries are an inexpensive, seamless way to go from just about anywhere in Istanbul to anyone of the other cities within the city. Every time you catch a ferry it's like a mini day trip and gives you unimpeded views of one of the world's most famous skylines. 

Open Ayran

Ayran is a salted drinking yogurt that's brilliantly refreshing and works as the perfect accompaniment to spicy food. However, that's just the stuff in prepackaged tubs. 

Our first couple of meals we ordered ayran and it came out in a tub, that's OK in itself but Turkish people around us were receiving it 'off-tap', if you will. So instead of me trying to indicate with my hands that we wanted open ayran, and looking like a nut job in the process, at our next opportunity we Googled Turkish for open (açik) and gave that a crack the next time we ordered. Open ayran comes from a machine like the one below and it helps to develop its frothy head and gives a product that tastes as though it's come directly from a cow who's been clamped and shook all about. It is salty, it is cowwy and it is delicious. You are forgotten to us now inferior, prepackaged ayran. Give me açik ayran or nothing at all.

Chicken Pudding

Yes, a pudding made with chicken. It's sticky and gelatinous and has a texture unlike any pudding that you've ever had before thanks to the intricately shredded chicken strewn throughout it. Dust it with some cinnamon and you've got yourself one very unique dessert. Or breakfast, as it were.

Part II over here!

A Cevapi a Day Keeps the Hangover at Bay in Bosnia and Hercegovina (yes this is the longest post title that has ever been attempted)

Mostar is beautiful on the inside but ugly on the outside.

At its centre is probably my pick for the nicest, most interesting old town that we've seen on this trip and the world famous Stari Most - a 20 metre bridge that's a reconstruction of a 16th century Ottoman bridge that was destroyed (rather symbolically) during the Croat-Bosniak War and is the sole reason that a heap of people make the day trip from centres that are up to 4-5 hours drive away.

Those day trippers have made a sound decision because Stari Most and its setting against the beautiful old buildings that surround it with the emerald green river that flows underneath it make it a worthwhile jaunt.  However what they miss out on seeing is the real Mostar, the ugly Mostar.

The scars of the Croat-Bosniak War are still starkly prominent just outside of the old town in what are now (once again) peaceful residential streets.  Those scars provide a poignant introduction to a country and wars that a lot of us unfortunately know little about.

Scars from the greater Bosnian War are also still apparent in the nation's capital, Sarajevo, and buildings that remain as shells, after having been bombed during the war, provide a daily reminder of the atrocities that people who are now our age had to grow up through.

A visit to the History Museum (which is essentially a Bosnian War museum) left us exhausted and upon leaving we sat on a bench outside of the museum, unable to comprehend and reconcile what we'd just learned.  B&H, and that museum in particular, gave us an insight into a world that is unrecognisable to the one that we're fortunate enough to live in.

Sarajevo's other key historical point of interest is the Latin Bridge, where Franz Ferdinand and his wife were murdered, an event which many believe was the straw that broke the camels back when World War 1 kicked off.

However, it isn't all doom and gloom in The 'Jevo.

Cevapi is a grilled minced meat dish that's like the southeastern European take on a kebab.  Up until Kastel we didn't really understand it.  After Kastel, we got cevapi.  To be fair, we'd never had it like this.

Kastel takes four of the small skinless sausage like things, seasons them a bit a bit more than usual and then squeezes them together to make a little pattie.  The result is an exceptionally moist little bundle of joy that joins three other friends in a well greased traditional flat bread along with some chopped onions, a couple of pickled chillies and a drinking yoghurt on the side.  The result is a thing of rare beauty.  We were very satisfied customers three times over.

The best coffee in Sarajevo is surely found at Cajdzinica Dzirlo.

Instead of watching people like us fail pathetically at attempting to drink coffee the Bosnian way, the owner sits down with you and talks you through what is a very particular process.  Whilst that may look like a Turkish coffee, the desired result is quite different.  Bosnians prefer a much cleaner coffee and the steps that you must follow to drink coffee the Bosnian way reflect that.

The freshly brewed coffee is brought to your table and firstly you must stir in any grounds that remain on the top of the coffee to wet them enough to ensure that they sink to the bottom of the džezva (pot).  After leaving the coffee to sit for another 30 seconds you then pour it carefully into your cup, ensuring that you don't kick up any of the grounds that should now be resting on the bottom of the džezva.

Next comes the other key difference, how sugar is incorporated into the coffee.  Instead of it being dissolved in the dzezva when it's brewed, you must take your sugar cube and dunk it into your coffee, suck the sugar cube and then take a small sip while some of the sugar granules are still hanging around in your mouth.  Or alternatively you have a glass of serbe on the side which is a highly sugared, cinnamon spiced beverage that plays off nicely against the bitterness of the coffee.  In my case, I go for the sugar and the serbe.  There is no such thing as 'too sweet'.

The owner also knocked us up a salep - a milk and flower based hot drink made of wild orchid powder.  What a great drink that would be in the depths of winter.  One for our ever growing list of things to replicate once we get home.

The other highlight of Sarajevo was 'One Night in the 'Jevo' with these guys.

Inebriated being the operative word.  But what did I enjoy most about hanging out with those three?  Look at how brown I look in comparison.

And that was the very worst and the very best of B&H.

Takk Iceland... Day 9

Back to Reykjavik we headed, final Koko Mjolk in hand, about to close out the loop.

Before dropping Morrison back we pulled in to Pallett Kaffikompani for an espresso and then very sadly drove him back to the Happy Campers yard and parted ways with our newest BFF.  Being back in a city was a bitter pill to swallow.  The Man of the Wild and Outdoor Number 2s appear to enjoy being away from cities for a while.

We then headed in to Reykjavik for 11 hours of eating, drinking and exploring before beginning 40 hours of transit through airports to get us to Croatia.

First up was a couple more coffees at Litli Bondaerinn and Reykjavik Roasters amongst more hipsters than you've ever felt old and infinitely less cool around.

Then the world famous, Bourdain, Bill Clinton, Princess Diana endorsed hot dog at Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur.  "Second worst hot dog of the trip" according to Nix.  Second only to an abomination of a belly filler that we had in Romania.

At no point have I mentioned just how quirky and unique and, a lot of the time, strange the Icelandic people are.  There's strangeness every where you look around the island.  Knowing this, it then doesn't come as a surprise that an Icelandic man has devoted his entire life to collecting all things animal phallus related.  Yes, a penis museum.

Here are a few of the photo highlights/lowlights.

What did we learn?

• A pizzle is a bull's penis that's been fashioned into a whip. 
• Penis bones are a thing and a walrus has a huge one. 

• The man with the biggest ever documented member has bequeathed it to the museum. 
• Penises whether dried and placed on a plaque or pickled in a jar are not attractive parts of the anatomy of any animal. 
• Penises aren't a laughing matter.  Dicks are really funny. 

That time Nix came face to face with a massive elephant dong.

We felt a bit weird after that so headed to K-Bar for a beer.  In particular one I'd been after for a while - Olvisholt Lava, a big, boozey imperial stout.  It lived up to expectations.

What the beers really were, was some Dutch Courage for a little eating challenge that Iceland devised all those years ago.

Cafe Loki does a Braveheart plate that consists of some dried cod that was childs play and the infamous Hakarl - fermented, rotten shark meat - something that Gordon Ramsay couldn't keep down when he ate it and countless other foodies have struggled to keep down.

We tentatively placed it in our mouths, at which point the rush of ammonia invades your nostrils and sets up shop for the next few minutes.  To say its flavour is long would be an understatement.  My favourite quote from Nix was - "it tastes like eating someone's morning after a big night piss".  So eloquent.

In all honesty, we don't really get what the fuss is all about.  Bring on the next eating challenge.

The evening finished with admiration of a church that almost makes you want to go to church and our final sushi feed of Iceland.

Then began the epic transit to Split and the first of two nights in airports.

Who gives a f*ck, we'd just had the best eight nights of our lives.