YOLO - You Only Live Once

An Englishman once told me he asked his wise Kuwaiti friend whose views he respected:
"What is the most important cause of living a good life? The most vital thing."
The wise man simply answered:
"Forgiveness! To learn to forgive."

The act of forgiveness begins from within oneself first and foremost. When I learned to be more forgiving towards my actions and deeds, I also found it in my heart to love myself for who I am and, hence, less judgment towards others and an understanding of the wider world. I am not in control but in charge of where I want my life to lead. From then on, all we can do is our best. Meditation, I repeat repeatedly, has helped me through the ups and downs and how to deal with them for a happier life.
After all, obstacles are only a perception of the mind; they don't exist until we bring them to life.

London has been good to me, and back here, with the start of spring and more sunshine to brighten up the citizens' moods, being surrounded by wonderful friends or chosen family has been... happy!
I had to bid my car and wonderful companion farewell last week. It was not sad; it was just a fact of life one accepts: there is a beginning and end to all; the sooner we take, the more accessible. We had loads of fun together, and I could not believe the tears pouring down my face as I stood in front of the judges in court as they voiced the six-month ban. I simply couldn't refrain.  

I have been hanging out mostly in my neighbourhood and entertaining at home. I have been enchanted by conversations about everyone's journeys and look forward to a brighter future.  
Gérard came over one afternoon to set up the BBQ, as I am new to it. We had not seen each other for about three years. I got him to set the coal ready almost as soon as he walked in after handing him my speciality, Aperol Spritz. He managed to stain my new decking with paraffin, then overcook my overnight marinated chicken fillets! Oh dear, he was not doing too well after all those years. And then, watched me clean up. It could well be another three years if we were to meet again.

A few friends have moved from London, particularly a close friend of many years, Bardo. Guess this is life in the fast lane. I sometimes (very rarely) think of those I have encountered worldwide living in a small ski village, for example, or in a wooden house floating on the China Sea, who barely leave their domain; how do they see life? Do they know what depression is? Are they more content? As hard as their life would seem to us, they are privileged.  

Now, back to my travels ...
Back in Vietnam, the boat trip on the river Thu Bon carried my guide and me to the village of Kim Bong, where we hired a bicycle and rode through the narrow, unpaved streets with only a few other bikers on site. From a visit to a house where rice pancakes were made (not dissimilar to pasta) to the hut, rugs were made by hand, followed by a boat building yard, and not to forget the Camkin carpentry.

Older generation weaving rugs

 Using the shaving of wood to seal boats

Application of mother of pearl on wood

Making rice pancakes for restaurants

90-year-old skilled hands at making boats

Market in Hoi An

Exotic fruit

Every night in Hoi An, I spent time at the tailors and then at different restaurants based on recommendations from the hotel concierge and others.  
I tried the following restaurants and enjoyed the food: Ms Ly, Green Mango, Morning Glory, and Cargo. Yaly was where I had not one, not two, but three flamenco dresses made, planning ahead for my next trip away.

The boats with the eyes

My days in Vietnam ended on Monday, 3 March, and a flight from Danang to Siem Reap, which used to be Cambodia's capital, was a change of scene I had not reasonably expected. It was rather strange as I took the bus to the airport to get on the Vietnamese airline. The words of the two ladies sounded extremely familiar; they were speaking in my mother tongue, so many miles away. So I lifted my head. They definitely had the looks, and yes, my presumption was true. We were all surprised as one of the ladies then put her arm around the other and said:
"We're sisters, and we love to travel together."
I felt a sigh inside, which I kept to myself. I asked whether they would care to join me one evening for dinner in Siem Reap, and they agreed.

We met on the third night of our stay in Cambodia, and there was a good reason for such a thing. I Cannot call it a coincidence because there is more to every encounter. We met in my hotel lobby and proceeded to the AHA restaurant near Pub Street, where the city's main nightlife was. It was enchanted to chat with the sisters who resided in the US, and there were many similarities to which I could relate. At dinner, the older sister, who was more talkative, asked:
"Do you know why we get along so well?"
Then, without awaiting a reply from me simply answered:
"Because there's no jealousy between us."

Cambodia to follow...

In London, what was new was a visit to the cinema in Whiteley's shopping mall with Aisha. They built an ultra-modern movie theatre with comfy armchairs and waiter service throughout the film, which was a new experience and fun. At the same time, we watched The Grand Budapest Hotel, which is about the adventures of the legendary concierge Gustav. It was entertaining.
Spring in the city has meant lots of April showers (not that we need April for showers to pour here), another exciting rendezvous with a dear friend (with lots of benefits), Don Juan, with whom we do not simply meet but fly a magic carpet to other continents; known or unknown to mankind.

I read the following words recently, and they make so much sense.
'Don't judge someone just because they sin differently than you'.

Hoi An Beaches to Tailors

When you learn to love yourself, it's the beginning of your steadfast love affair.
By Oscar soooo Wild.

Now, going back to Vietnam...
I flew from Haiphong to Danang Airport. Did not even realize how well developed a town Danang was, where the Americans first landed at the start of the Vietnam War. It remained popular with the troops throughout the conflict, only one and a half hours away from Hoi An, and until the last day, when it came to viewing in daylight, I did not even know it existed in such grandeur. During the flight, loaded with the heaviest carry-on luggage, a handbag and the massive roll of paintings bought in Hanoi, the youthful Vietnamese beauty who was our air stewardess was most kind in helping me with my extras. She offered me the one before the last seat and left my carry-on luggage next to her feet, seated on the previous row. When she finally sat behind me after serving the light meal, I turned to her, and we chatted the rest of the flight. After all, everyone has a story. 

I recognized my name printed on the A4 paper as I got out of the terminal, and the guide and driver took an hour and a half to get me to the Chic Hotel, which was set amongst a field of rice paddies. There, I found another fan as one of the girls in reception hugged me a couple of times, and for some reason, she was entirely drawn to me! Who am I to question a kind and loving gesture, so I hugged her back. I was told people in Cambodia were warm and sweet, but I had experienced it several times in Vietnam. Hotel hopping in Hoi An became a regular activity in the week spent there as booking so 'last minute', William at Audley Travels had struggled to get me in one place for the seven-night stay. The guide, Mr Ray, seemed a little offbeat and spent most of the hour and a half ride from the airport talking to the driver; he did this in a somewhat mocking manner when he told me: "Oh! What do you think? Everything in town closes at 9:30."
When I asked his opinion on whether the Boutique Hotel was better than the Victoria Hotel, he answered:
"Better? Huh. Victoria is very nice; the boutique is not so good."
He preferred something other than Chic Hotel, which was fascinatingly decorated, with amiable staff and an excellent breakfast. Once I got to the Chic on my first night, I wrote to William back in the UK, at Audley Travels, to have my guide changed. He immediately saw to it, so I had a new man from Hué flown in the next day. Good show!

On the first hour of arrival, around 8:30 pm, I left the luggage, and Mr Ray asked the taxi to give me a lift to town after dropping him off at his restaurant. I walked a little in Hanoi's quiet back streets, wondering where all the tourists were, but soon came across a restaurant I had read about in Lonely Planet called Ms Ly and began with an order of white rose dumplings and wontons with prawn. Walking back in the deserted narrow streets was peaceful and not the least threatening. Or could it be I simply felt no fear?

The roof pool at Chic Hotel

My marble bath at Chic

Hoi An offers beachside services and is famed for its tailors. As soon as I found that factor out, the decision to find a seamstress to make out my flamenco dress became a mission.
I had already taken a photo of a few desired styles while in La Ronda, Spain, on my iPhone, so all there was left to do was have it made—a flamenco dress, or two, or three, as it ended up, made in Hoi An, Vietnam.  
Et pourquoi pas?!
(And why not?!)

On the first night, just before 10 pm, I walked into the only open shop, a tailor. I showed the design on the phone, which was quoted for $300, including the fabric. But when looking around at the dresses they had already made, that would not happen.

On the second day in Hoi An, a new guide and the driver showed up, and they transported me and my luggage to the Boutique Hotel by the South China Sea.  

At the Boutique Hotel, I was shown my spacious, modernly designed room with a slick marble shower room, somewhat unpacked, and proceeded to the beach with Hawaiian Tropic oil in hand. Sunbathing alone leaves no oil on the back, and napping burns the skin. The temperature was a perfect mid-twenties, but the sun shone strongly. Again, the breakfasts were divine, and the next three days were spent on the beach, followed by a swim in the pool as the water was slightly too choppy to go in on my own. After all, I knew no one whatsoever there.

The second night back in town to eat at the Green Mango's recommended restaurant, followed by a visit to another tailor where they quoted $600 for that same flamenco design dress. I decided by then to forget about having any clothes made; it is not as though I need any!

Again, I was one of the last ones walking around the town around 10/10:30 pm, quite a change from the buzzed streets only an hour or two prior. I caught a taxi back to the Boutique Hotel.

On the third day at breakfast, I noticed an older couple (older to me, that is) walk towards the open-air eatery where I sat, with the man gently touching his lady at the back with such affection. They walked closer and took the table in front, and as the lady turned around, she addressed me:

"Oh, hello! We met on the junk at Halong Bay."

I, who must have looked somewhat puzzled while going through the scanning memory chip, tried hard to agree with a nod and a smile. So the lady introduced herself as Diane and her husband, James, from England. It did not take her long to invite me to dinner that evening as their three nights in Hoi An ended the following day, and I gladly agreed. I sure had no other plans that evening or any other.

After another day on the beach and an hour and a half of Vietnamese massage at the hotel spa, I showered, changed, and got ready to meet Diane and James at the hotel lobby by 7 pm. They apologetically asked if I would join them in fitting out their outfits made in town before heading to dinner at the Morning Glory restaurant.  

"No apology needed. I love shopping."  I answered in joy.

They took me to a colonial light yellow building on the grounds where Yaly Couture Tailors was set, somewhat away from the busy back streets. As we walked up the stairs in a hurry into a large first-floor open-plan shop with a selection of fabrics to make any shopaholic's mouth drop open wide, I was delighted with the find. As the husband and wife disappeared into the fitting rooms and came back with highly well-fitted garments, I spared no moment to approach one of the girls on the shop floor, and in no time, my first flamenco dress was on order. Hole!

A deliciously pleasant dinner invite with their prawn mousse 'kebabs' order, including the dress now on order and the exciting company of a retired couple who worked in the BBC, made that night complete.

Mousse Prawn at Morning Glory

Morning Glory Restaurant

The old trading port of Hoi An is colourful in the day, with the colonial colours of the houses and splashes of different shades coming from every corner on every back street. By night, as in the daytime, the lanterns hung on strings above the alleys, as in the shops lit in every shade of vibrant colour. There is a charm all around: good food, the bustling river Thu Bon, the rich temples, the market filled with porcelain, jewellery stalls, fruit, and fish, all making Hoi An an excellent and different destination.

The fishermen's boat

The beach at day in Hoi An

Colourful lanterns for sale

Hoi An, by night

One afternoon, while walking along the beach and collecting sea shells, I saw a young blonde girl get up and walk with a rack sack towards me, so I started the conversation. Her name was Yolanda from the Netherlands, and she was in her mid-twenties, travelling on her own for three months or so in the Far East, having already been all around China. She was saying how, in most parts of this side of the world, being blond was a novelty, and people would keep touching her hair. From what I recall, she mentioned a city she visited in China where she attended an open day where families brought their daughters above a certain age in their late twenties to find them suitors. Her experiences of backpacking all over China were a delight to listen to. She talked of her family, which occupied a good hour of the walk when I decided to return, and we bid farewell and never saw her again.

The boats to ride on river Thu Bon

On Saturday, 1st March, my new guide, Hien, awaited at the hotel in the lobby, with the driver from before, to drive us to My Son (read as Misson), opened to the public in 1999 when Unesco recognized it as a world heritage site.

My Son ruins are Vietnam's most important Cham site. Their civilization dominated the area that is now Central Vietnam for many centuries before being crushed by the Vietnamese. It was once the intellectual and religious centre, with monuments in a verdant valley surrounded by hills.

 

Ticket sales for My Son

Ruins of My Son

 

My Son

An exciting tour overall on a pleasantly hot day; then again, I like the heat.

Hien then had me driven back to town for lunch with a view of the river at Thanh Phoung restaurant, seated on the first floor. Another check out and check back in at Chic Hotel was when I was greeted by the same friendly lady at the reception, and my luggage was taken back to my old room.

I had to ask for a doctor's visit and a prescription for antibiotics later; my guide was back to take me on a short boat ride on the river Thu Bon and a visit to the Camkim Carpentry village on the island, which was only ten minutes away.  

The main bridge in Hoi An

View from restaurant

I think I am passing out. Long nights are gone when I stay up until 4 or 5 am. writing my blog. It is now 2 am, and my bed is calling my name badly.  

Na Night to Y' All.

How long on Halong Bay?

Oh boy! Yes, yes, and yes. The last of my workmen, or the last of the Mohicans, as I call my fantastic team of guys who helped achieve the end result of my garden flat, have all gone now! Yoopy. It's time to party!

It is so strange not having the fortune to drive around London. However, having my brother Soltan and his lovely lady Tuba here has been bliss on many terms, as in whirling us around town, from B&Q getting a lawn mower (goodness knows how many times I will be using that!) to the BBQ, which again I will be counting on my good buddies to come and bring that alive. Spring is in the air, and the outbursts of warm sunshine at the end of March have been a wonderful surprise to the wet weather we have been experiencing most of the year.

Now, back in Vietnam... Upon arrival on board the Indochina Sails via the private tender, Alistair had already made acquaintance, and we sat at the table of two for a seafood lunch. At the same time, the junk cruised the magical bay, watching the sculpted limestone islands rising from the misty waters. We boarded the tender in drizzle and went to visit the fishing village nearby. It amazes me what conditions the rest of the world live in while we are blessed with so much comfort in the West.

A relatively uneventful evening apart from the fun company of Alistair at dinner; the following day, I awoke later than expected, with the gentle floating on the water, and the day began after breakfast with my new friend, Dale. Almost everyone had left as most stayed aboard only one night, so with Dale and a couple, we were handed plastic to wear to keep the rain away, in various colours to choose from and off we went on another boat to visit a cave on an island.

We then went kayaking through another cave, which led to a lagoon with water as smooth as a pool. Apart from the three kayaks we were in, no one was in sight, and the air's coolness was magically peaceful. Next came a visit to the Pearl Farm, where they showed us how the oysters were caught at sea and how to get the pearl out of the shells. It made me think, is there any cause of pain to the shells? Who's there to tell?

Pearl Farm

 The pearl necklaces that took my fancy were in glass boxes, and black pearls in pieces were definitely more significant than any hazelnut I have ever encountered. Once the price tag was revealed, I decided my tour at the Pearl House had ended and simply rushed back to the tender. Time for the self-service lunch approached sooner than expected. A new crowd settled onto the junk, not the friendliest of people, as they seemed totally uninterested in mingling.  




After the meal, we were yet again handed another wet-proof gear in another colour to board the tender and visit the most gigantic cave I had ever known. In my entire life, I have seen a few: Hang Sung Sut or the Surprise Cave. I'm not sure why Alistair thought otherwise, but I was certainly stunned by the grandeur of the space, which was apparently covered with the 3,000 visitors at the time, we were told. 

As we walked through the vast area, the cave was lit in different colours.

It made one wonder how many hidden treasures are still to be sighted, or with all the tourists flooding every historical site, are there still any left? After all, it has not been long since, for example, Machu Picchu in Peru was discovered.

At that moment, I realised that my trip alone to destinations so far away was pretty tame!

But I love every moment of it.

We were back on the Indochina Sails early evening to get ready for another dinner set with rose petals on white table clothes at set tables.  

Bar and restaurant aboard Indochina Sail

The only shame was that the Department of Transport had ordered these amazing vessels, once in their original wood colour, to be painted in white now, which somewhat diminished their character. Nevertheless, it was quite an enchanting experience.

We bid each other farewell with Dale, who had begun his work trip to Vietnam by taking a break from the junk and now had to return to Hanoi for work. At the same time, yours was about to be picked up by Tuan, the driver, to commute on a one-and-a-half-hour car ride to Haiphong, catching a plane to Hoi An and ready for a beach holiday with a warmer climate.

The flower market in the centre of Haiphong

The Town Hall in Haiphong

To be continued...
Back here in London, the Persian New Year marked the beginning of spring with sunshine, and I got myself in the full swing of exercising. A Saturday afternoon gathering chez moi last week was to bid my dear friend and concert/rave companion Shane farewell as his lovely lady was in town that weekend, and he was moving back home to start a new chapter. It is not exactly sad to see friends move when you know they are changing cities to welcome a new destiny that will benefit their future, but although he will be missed, there is one more destination added to my places to visit... Again.
A whole week with family has been fabulous! I have barely gone out as the days have been active and the nights happily spent in each other's great company. However, the first housewarming party took place last Friday, and in all the excitement of gathering very close friends around, I spent most of the evening in the garden in a flimsy dress and caught a cold. I will get over it, no doubt.

Sending a RIP to one of the greatest DJs of all time, Frankie Knuckles, who passed away at the young age of 59, amongst the ones missing on the plane from Malaysia and the stunning 49-year-old L'Wren Scott. Who wouldn't want to be her? This talented artist took her life away, which makes one think, do not judge a book by the cover. None of us can genuinely realise what happens in anyone's mind and life. So, be kind to yourself and others, let go of nonsense, yet do not let anyone make decisions for you. Be in charge of your destiny.

Na night, amigos. 

Bedroom with a sea view