*with apologies to both Herman Melville and Mark Bowater.

Call me Aaron.

Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having a fair amount of money in their purse, and nothing particular to interest them on the UK’s shore, my mum and dad thought they would sail about a little and see the southern hemisphere part of the world. It is a way they had of driving off the spleen and spending what existed of my inheritance. Whenever they found themselves growing grim about the A2; whenever it was a damp, drizzly November in Dartford; whenever they found themselves involuntarily pausing before travel agents, and bringing up the rear of every traffic queue at Bluewater; and especially whenever despair at the Valley got such an upper hand of them, that it requires a strong moral principle to have prevented them from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, they accounted it high time to get abroad as soon, and as far as they could. This was their substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; they not so quietly took to the air, to India, Australia, New Zealand, Vietnam. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards travel as them, and now as with me.

Those same feelings of travel and yearning for adventure are what have now drawn me out into Southeast Asia, and like my father before me, I am keeping something that passes for a travel blog. Dad’s can be found here. You’re reading mine right now.

For some time, some years in fact, I ridiculed my father for the content of his blog. How he’d make entries dedicated more to scrutinising the Vietnamese method of queueing rather than providing insights into the feeling of being in the mausoleum of Uncle Ho. How, in his writing, rather than providing a window into how it felt to ride across India in a packed train, the sights, the smells, the sounds; he’d instead compare and contrast the Indian railway app and ticket pricing with that of the UK’s National Rail app. How he’d take pleasure in those things he had arrived at, and moan, for the most part, about how frustrating the land he had left behind was in comparison.

On my part, and not for the first time, such ridicule serves only to reflect and amplify my arrogance and hubris. He wrote regularly, he posted great photos of him and mum, his entries consistently talk about his travels with mum- where they went, what they saw, who they were with. There is no over-reliance on piss-poor puns; no overwrought literary, cinematic, or cultural references (Moby Dick/Moany Dad. Get it?). Unlike this post, at no point is there a two-week gap between his writings, taking seriously his commitment to keep friends back home up to date, succinctly, with what he and mum are up to.

In short- Dad’s is a half decent travel blog. It is in that moaning, those comparative exercises, that he brings forth a truth about what mum and dad were seeing, feeling, experiencing in itself but more in comparison with what they knew before. Without butchering Hegel’s definition of the truth, Dad’s blog strikes at it in an engaging, understandable, and memoiristic way.

This? Well fuck knows what this is. There have been, I think, more than a few passing references to the sights and sounds I’ve been taking in since I left the UK two months ago. On reflection, the better of the writing has, to my mind, been when I’ve had something to write about other than hopping from one place to the next- the cricket, drinking, the motorcycling, the travel mishaps, seeing old and dear friends, meeting new people, drinking with the new people, making new and one day I’m sure dear friends…

Truth be told, I think much of the reason there continues to be such a dearth and inconsistency in posting here is because I’m not convinced I find the travelling aspect of my travels, the touristy bits I mean, all that interesting to write about. And it is a truism that if the writer (me) is not interested in the writing, then the reader (I guess you if you’ve made it this far) is not going to be interested in the reading of it.

I’m (still) having a fantastic time exploring a country I’ve long cared about and been fascinated by and will provide some photos and written snapshots of all the places in Vietnam I’ve been over the past two weeks but this blog has left me in no doubt that I am no Paul Theroux. I’m not good at brief, pithy, enticing descriptions of the places I’ve been- I’m not a travel guide nor, it seems, a Mark Bowater. I’m not an influencer on the insta-gram so cannot post heavily curated and edited photographs with paid-for hashtags. But it’s no bother- when the mood takes me, I shall keep writing this type of guff here, on the sorts of topics I want to write about which will heavily reference where I am and what I’m doing, but will also not be without extended tangents, rambling paragraphs with no discernible central point, and riffs that closely resemble a stream of consciousness aka the 912 words that thus far make up this posting.

I think my next post is going to be a review of the different bus journeys we’ve experienced/endured over the past two or three weeks. Then I fancy reviewing all the different types of instant noodles I’ve indulged in (I had my first Vietnamese KFC last night. Was peng.) I’ll keep updating you all on the books I’m reading, people I’m meeting, and roads I’m speeding down on poorly maintained mopeds (the latest of which is without a working speedometer.) If that’s still of interest, do keep reading. Some of you (double figures and not all of you bots) get an email when I post here so keep your eyes peeled for those.

Now, one thousand words in, let us turn to what I’ve been up to these past two weeks. Given how long it’s been, I thought it easier to set this to the tune of ‘One week’ by Barenaked Ladies. I was wrong. Travel snapshots below how far I got with this approach. It’s not very far.

‘Two weeks’

Lyrics by Aaron Bowater, music by Barenaked Ladies

[Chorus:]

It’s been two weeks since I posted here

Cracked my hands at joint and typed, “I’ve seen here”

Five days spent down in Da Lat

Saying “Look at the flowers, sure aren’t they pretty”

Three days on the beach Nha Trang

I realized Quy Nhan was best, but didn’t tell you

After that, it was on to Hoi An,

But it has still been two weeks ’til I said I’m in Hue.

[I gave up at this point and didn’t bother with the verses]

[Outro:]

It’ll be less than two weeks ’til I next post here

It’ll be about caving when I next post here

Phong Nha-Ke Bang, a National Park .

Da Lat

Peaks: Beautiful lakes and flower gardens, stonking waterfall with a set your own speed rollercoaster. Stellar coffee. Cracking ice cream. Long, scenic cable car. Hilarious and boozy dinner adjacent to a bunch of Politburo (we’re guessing) members who were absolutely steaming. Won a ‘Seasons of Rice’ test. Managed to get back to running.

Troughs: Had the runs something terrible which prevented a 10k. The sculpture garden was shite (proper shite)

Interesting fact: The only nuclear reactor in Indochina is located at No. 1 Nguyen Tu Luc, Da Lat city. According to the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), the Da Lat nuclear reactor has small capacity (500kW) but supposed works safely and at a high economic efficiency.

Nha Trung

Peaks: Decent stretch of beach. Went to the cinema for the equivalent of like two quid. Really cool accommodation on a quiet backstreet. Bought new pairs of speedos.

Troughs: Seen in public wearing new speedos. Total tourist town full of Russian tourists. ’28 Years Later: The Bone Temple’ had the worst of the violence edited out of it.

Interesting fact: There are currently nine beaches worldwide that UNESCO has recognized as World Heritage Beaches. One of these beaches is Nha Trang. UNESCO recognized Nha Trang because of its natural beauty and cultural significance.

Quy Nhon

Peaks: Nha Trang but nicer and very popular with Vietnamese tourists (the beaches were way more beautiful and quiet to boot). Went for a 5k beach run in nowt but my speedos. Good food. Late night swims. cheap ice cream. Decent local museum.

Troughs: Lost the ‘Seasons of Rice’ series by going 3-1 down. Genuinely thought the bus driver was going to kill us all making our way there. Should have spent more nights here than in Nha Trang.

Interesting fact: The Cham people were an indigenous people who ruled this region and Vijaya (just north of present-day Quy Nhon) served as the Cham capital until its defeat in 1471.

Hội An

Peaks: Went and got a linen suit and it only slightly creates a resemblance to Marcus Brody. Also bought a running vest that says ‘Inside Men’ which is objectively hilarious. We stayed in the most beautiful homestay surrounded by rice paddies on all sides. The lantern festival was stunning as was Hoi An writ large. Enjoyed the best Ban Mi of the trip so far. Had a really good time out on the moped, including a one-day excursion up more mountains. Bought more books. Managed my first 10k run since October, and my first solo one without my running partner Maddy in God knows how long.

Troughs: The 10k nearly killed me (melodrama? Moi?!) Bought more books. The museums were a tad naff. The brandy I drank is some of the worst I have ever tasted- no great surprise given the price point (36cl at about £1.50). The post office was a pain in the arse and I had to spend a good 25 minutes attaching a myriad of stamps as I’d left it too long. I do not like riding on the back of a stranger’s moped, especially when the helmet is way too small for my absolutely mahoosive head. Joined my fellow Englishmen from the ECB in losing a five match international series abroad, this time ‘Seasons of Rice’ 3-2 to OH.

Interesting fact: Hội An is a UNESCO World Heritage Site known for its well-preserved ancient town, which reflects a blend of indigenous and foreign architectural styles from its time as a major Southeast Asian trading port between the 15th and 19th centuries.

Hue

Author’s note: since the first draft of this blog (Yeah… there’s a drafting process for these things) we’ve had the most bonkers couple of days in Hue including the DMZ, an abandoned water park and my first moped related mishap. Will give the whole city a fresh post in the next couple of days…

Final bits

Been reading: ‘Pol Pot: A history of a nightmare’ by Philip Short: Tough read but very informative look at the wider history and geopolitical forces behind the reign of the Khmer Rouge, as well as posing some interesting questions as to how we define and understand ‘genocide’. ‘In the Shadow of the Banyan’ by Vaddey Ratner: Not brilliant and not nearly as compelling as the non-fiction look at the crimes of the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot. ‘Casino Royale’ by Ian Fleming: Some light relief following the other two.

Been listening to: ‘Against Progess’ by Slavoj Zizek. The usual podcasts of ‘Know Your Enemy’, ‘If Books Could Kill’ and ‘5-4’. Good, depressing stuff.

Watching: The Night Manager: Absolute drivel. Rewatching the Ken Burns Vietnam documentary series: Sublime. Sinners (again): brilliant (again). Bridget Jones Diary (again): brilliant (again).

And finally– you should all watch Voidzilla’s channel on the Epstein scandal. He’s been all over it since the start and way before Peter Mandelson was appointed by Keir Starmer. I also love how many of the journalists who are piling in on Starmer for appointing Mandy were the same ones who called it a genius move when everybody knew how intimately related he was to Epstein.

What a note to end on. Bizarre, bizarre type of travel blog this.

See you next time.