'Nam

Having been thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed at my ignorance of Cambodian history, I was determined that our time spent in Vietnam would not be burdened with similar philistinism. We had both briefly studied the Vietnam war for GCSE history, but I hasten to add that I was unable to recall much more than my utter confusion in regards to the Viet Minh and the Viet Cong; probably why I only managed to scrape a B (unlike my little brother who rocked out an impressive A in his recent exam results – brains as well as beauty. Now you just need to work a little on the brawn Louis!)

To remedy this ignorance I submersed myself in literature in attempt to grasp the effect that the Vietnam War had, and continues to have to this day. The first book that I read was Camilla Gibbs’ The Beauty of Humanity Movement, a keenly observed novel about the reverberation of conflict through generations. Set in Hanoi, flitting back on forth from the 1950s to present day, The Beauty of Humanity Movement not only whetted my appetite for pho, but educated me on the political upheaval experienced by the Vietnamese throughout the past hundred years. The Beauty of Humanity Movement were a (fictional) group of artists and intellectuals who dared to question Communist rule at great peril, and so to further understand more about Uncle Ho’s regime I then read the incredible diary of Dang Thuy Tram, Last Night I Dreamed of Peace; “At the age of twenty-four, Dang Thuy Tram volunteered to serve as a doctor in a National Liberation Front (Viet Cong) battlefield hospital in the Quang Nai province. Two years later she was killed by American forces not far from where she worked. Written between 1968 and 1970, her diary speaks poignantly of her devotion to family and friends, the horrors of war, her yearning for her high school sweetheart, and her struggle to prove her loyalty to her country”. This was not an easy read, most challengingly of all was that Thuy was the same age as I am now when she effectively gave her life for her country, but it did give me an interesting perspective on the “other side” to the war that I knew very little about, and above all else is a story of love, humanity, hope and courage. Having been thoroughly depressed after reading Thuy’s tragic account of her war, I decided to read a “lighter” novel, written from another perspective again. The Lotus Eaters by Tatjana Soli tells the story of three war photographers with three very different stories; from the dangers they faced in their duty to capture the inevitable tragedy of war, to the emptiness of Saigon’s streets in the final days of the American evacuation. Although by simply reading two fictional, and one personal, accounts of the Vietnam War, I had barely touched the surface and couldn’t now claim to be an expert, but at least I had a slightly deeper understanding of the complexities surrounding the final destination on our Gap Yah adventure.

Having chickened out of the thirty-hour “death bus” from Laos to Vietnam, we arrived safe and sound in Hanoi after a pleasant hour-long flight from Vientiane. After checking in to the notorious Hanoi Backpackers hostel, we fought tiredness to explore the streets surrounding the hostel and to experience our first bowl of Vietnamese pho; an interesting experience at a street stall as we were served huge bowls of steaming noodle soup complete with various pieces of suspiciously unidentifiable chunks of “meat”. An earlyish night was in order so that we would be sufficiently refreshed the following day for our walking tour of the Old Quarter. I feel that I must explain the importance of a clear head and razor-sharp senses, for without these simply crossing the road in Hanoi would be impossible due to the sheer ridiculous amount of traffic, namely pushbikes, motorbikes and scooters. There are an estimated 3.5 million bikes zooming through the streets of Hanoi, and it appeared that all 3.5 million of them congregated in the same place every time Forrest and I tried to cross the street. It certainly added an interesting element to our tour of the Old Quarter, as we narrowly avoided death at every crossing – a challenge for a girl who refuses to cross a street unless the green man tells her that it is safe to do so.

Having been previously disappointed by the negative effects that colonialism and capitalism appeared to have had on the traditional atmospheres of other cities that we had visited in Asia, our first impressions of Hanoi were that of a quintessential Asian city; an assault on the senses from every possible direction. Only stopping for spring rolls, we wound our way through the narrow streets of the Old Quarter which were bursting with charm and character, providing ample opportunities for our budding photographer to capture the frenzy. Of course there is only so much culture and tradition that one can absorb in one day before the yearning for colonialism and capitalism comes flooding back, so the evening was spent watching three back-to-back games of the Premier League.

Forrest got to spend Saturday night doing his stupid football thing, which meant that I was in charge of the itinerary the following day. I let Forrest have a little lie in while I caught up with various culturally important and relevant television programmes (Pretty Little Liars and True Blood) before we headed out. Our first stop was KOTO, aka Know One Teach One, an opportunity to combine our great passion for food with the smug knowledge that by stuffing our faces with delicious food we were giving back to the Hanoi community in need. After a scrumptious lunch of prawn and avocado spring rolls, bun cha and mustard beef and noodles we crossed the road to visit the Temple of Literature. I was hoping for at least some form of recognition at my contributions to literature, especially after giving the world the wonder that is the Gap Yah Chronicles, but I failed to see my name carved in to the ancient stones. The attraction itself was admittedly a little dull but it did provide a welcome peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of the city. A quick visit to the Hanoi Hilton was an interesting experience, especially the propaganda insisting that the American prisoners were treated with as much hospitality and generosity befitting respected Six Senses guests! We returned to the hostel for a lovely skype with Jenny and Westy, bidding the West one a fond farewell as he was due to depart on his own Gap Yah adventure, teaching in Shanghai. Another night of footbore was on the cards, oh how I’d missed the beautiful game during the brief sojourn between seasons…it had really been a struggle spending our weekends experiencing the culture of the amazing places we had visited rather than sat in a bar surrounded by English Yobbos watching stupid football.

We were rather rudely reminded of the joys of sleeping in dorm rooms that night, as we failed to get a single minute of sleep due to absolute drunken Geordie nitwits being sick and naked. As you can imagine, Forrest was none too happy when I tried to get him up at 6:45am for our Ha Long Bay trip and he grumpily made his way down to reception to complain about his terrible night’s sleep and to postpone our trip by a day so he could sleep a while longer – to which he received an unequivocal no, just as I’d suspected. Oh hello there Captain Hindsight, what’s that you say? It’s a good job we couldn’t postpone the trip otherwise we might not have had such a BLOODY FANTASTICALLY STUPENDOUS time?! Well Captain Hindsight, you’d be right! Having originally only organised to do the two day trip due to time and dollar restraints, this huge error in judgement was rectified around 3am the following morning when we arranged to stay for an extra day. Not only was Ha Long Bay itself breathtakingly stunning (the guide book says that with “so much hyperbole, some find Ha Long Bay disappointing” but I can’t hyperbole the hyperboles enough!), with its bizarrely shaped limestone outcrops, emerald water, hidden coves, echoing caves and needle-sharp ridges, but the excellent company we were in only added to the atrociously wonderful time that we had there. I relished the company of the beautiful April, Charlotte and Katie (fellow Finsbury Park residents, who kindly gave me lessons in North London slang so that I’m prepared for the Big Move), and there was plenty of LADS for satiate Forrest’s lairy needs.

On-board the Jolly Rodger, we met our guides Bambi and Josh who explained the strict and complex rules of ‘buffalo’ (only drinking with your left hand otherwise you will be forced to down the rest of the offending beverage) and it quickly became clear that drinking was going to be as much a part of our Ha Long Bay trip as admiring the stunning scenery. After we, very bravely might I add, jumped off the top deck of the boat into the water we went kayaking around the Bay and explored some of the caves inside the huge rock formations, absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, especially the return journey as the sun was setting over the Bay. Feeling like we fully deserved it after three hours kayaking and caving, we tucked in to a scrumptious meal before the games commenced. The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur, but I seem to remember that there was a decent amount of nudity involved (not on my behalf I hasten to add, although at one point I was wearing the entire outfit belonging to the gentleman sitting beside me!)

The early start the following day was extremely unwelcome after very little sleep and a whole lot of alcohol, but the views pretty much made up for the pounding in my head. We made our way to Castaway Island, our home for the evening, and yet again were astounded by the beauty that Mother Nature had bestowed upon the bay. Then I went for a little lie down. If a day chilling on a beautiful beach wasn’t enough entertainment for you, there was also a plethora of extreme water sports or rock climbing to try your hand at. Although my hangover (and my health and safety detector) disagreed severely with the decision, we decided to go tubing with April and Charlotte. Being pulled along on a rubber tube behind a boat sounds easy enough, but believe me it wasn’t; hanging on for dear life while you’re being towed at breakneck speeds is pretty tough on the old arms and when you inevitably are thrown into the air and smacked down into the water, that also causes great pain. Add to this the element of possible shoulder dislocation, beheading by rope or squashed by a flying Forrest and you’ve got yourself a jolly good time. Kidding aside, the tubing was excellent fun and couldn’t have been done in more beautiful surroundings. Forrest and I were a little more subdued during the drinking games that evening, unable to keep up with the kids, but the icing on the cake was undoubtedly the midnight swim in the phosphorescence (it was a close call between this and Josh licking mustard from a girl’s armpits however). An indescribably unbelievable experience that words or pictures wouldn’t do justice, and a fitting end to a wonderful trip. I’m already looking forward to the Finny P reunion – see you down your endz girls!

We returned to Hanoi just in time for our night bus to Hue, which deserves a mention due to the fact that it was unlike the thousands we have taken before in that it was actually designed for sleep. I could pretty much lie down and enjoy a full night’s sleep, and although Forrest was a little too big for his little pod he was happy enough to lie in the aisle and sleep! Hue was a nice enough place but the highlight was unquestionably the bike tour we took with Tranh Van Tinh. Tinh had approached us the previous day as we flailed around the ancient citadel looking vaguely at some tanks plonked in a field. After eight months of travelling we are understandably wary when approached, the word ‘no’ escaping from our mouths before the poor person gets a chance to sell their wares/soul, and we almost made this mistake with Tinh but something about him made us listen. Whether it was his kind eyes and gentle disposition, the Lonely Planet praise he carried around with him or simply that Hue didn’t seem to have much else to offer, but we arranged to meet him the next morning.

He picked us up bright and early with a friend and we jumped on the back of their bikes and headed off to the Pagoda where he had studied to be a Monk. The Pagoda itself was serene and calm, and Tinh explained the traditions and customs to us before we got the opportunity to watch two Monks perform their daily offering. He also read our palms which wasn’t something that we’d been expecting but was interesting nonetheless. Forrest’s proved to be scarily accurate; Tinh told him that he would study twice and have three more years of very hard work – exactly the encouragement he needs for returning to his job at KPMG and the dreaded ACA exams! He also prophesised that Forrest would have to take great care around a particular day in November (we’ve forgotten which already, so basically I’m just going to avoid him for the entire month), as this was his rebirth! My reading was slightly less inspiring, as Tinh took one look at my (sweaty) palm and proclaimed that I am surrounded by the spirits of loved ones in the afterlife. Slightly unnerving as I’m not sure they’d have enjoyed the drinking games at Ha Long Bay too much! He then took us to the Purple Forbidden City in the citadel which wasn’t that interesting but we lingered long enough to make it seem as though we’d read all the signs and understood what it actually was before returning to the hostel on the bikes. It really was a delight to spend some time with Tinh, and I feel that we experienced something unlike anything else during our Gap Yah.

Our next destination was Hoi An, not to be confused with a dyslexic Hanoi, and we were delighted to bump into Patrick, Jeff and Poraic, three Irish guys who were on our Ha Long Bay trip. We ate dinner with them that evening, sampling Hoi An specialities such as crispy wontons and ‘white rose’ – a shrimp dumpling made from translucent manioc-flour dough bunched to look like a rose. We spent the whole of the next day sunning ourselves on the stunning Anh Bang beach. The beach was pretty much deserted, unlike its much more touristic counterpart further along the coastline, and we savoured the luxury of the white sands and crystalline water that would soon be a distant Gap Yah memory. We met up with the Irish again that evening, but my relaxing day at the beach had thoroughly wiped me out and I left Forrest to his own devices and headed back to the hotel. It transpires that left to his own devices lead to drinking games with the Irish and Germans and then a pool party. Interesting. I managed to drag him out of bed the next day to explore the as-yet unvisited Hoi An town centre, which was beautifully quaint and very reminiscent of a Spanish colonial town, before we boarded yet another night bus. Less pleasant than the previous bus due to the soaring temperatures at the back of our beds, but we did take the opportunity to watch Good Morning Vietnam which was wonderfully funny despite the sensitive subject matter.

Another day, another beach on our whistle-stop tour of Vietnam’s coastline. We were now in Nha Trang, where we were planned to experience what boasted to be Vietnam’s best dive sites. A couple of days previously we had got talking to a couple of guys at Anh Bang beach, and over roadside-stand cured pork wrapped in banana leaves it transpired that one of them was a part owner of a dive shop in Nha Trang so we were hoping for a nice discount on our dive. Alas, this wasn’t to be the case, but we were so excited to be going diving again that we were happy to spend the money regardless. We had also discussed doing a night dive, but the guy in the shop advised against it saying that the visibility wouldn’t be great because you had to dive off the sandy beach and you were unlikely to see much, so we organised to do two fun dives the following day instead. With that taking a considerable chunk out of our rapidly dwindling Gap Yah fund, the rest of the day was spent at the beach; it doesn’t cost much to enjoy the Vietnam sunshine on the beautiful municipal beach!

We set off early the following morning with the excellent Rainbow Dive Company, and we were introduced to our Dive Master Rena on the boat who talked us through the dive plan for the day, and gave us the lowdown on what marine life we might see. The coral reefs along the Nha Trang coastline are bustling with marine life and Rena told us to look out for the spectacular nudibranchs which were often spotted where we were going to dive. The first dive was wonderful, and we did indeed see a beautiful nudibranch as well as an octopus and a huuuuge trigger fish amongst the fabulous marine life. There were a couple of ‘swim-throughs’ on the first dive – basically caves or holes in the coral that you can swim through – and going through ‘fish cave’ was an amazing, if slightly eerie, experience. The downside of the swim-through however was that when we exited the tunnel we had unknowingly ascended a few metres in the water, which caused problems for Forrest’s ears so we had to finish the dive about five minutes early. We had a break for lunch, and allowed the nitrogen to dissolve from our blood before going back down. We descended slowly to allow Forrest to equalize his ears to ensure that they didn’t continue hurting, and luckily he was absolutely fine. The second dive was equally as amazing, the highlight being a tiny little fish nicknamed the ‘raver fish’ due to the crazy, uncontrolled manner in which he danced through the water. Another unforgettable diving experience, and further proof that we were going to have to brave the cold waters around the British Isles and Jersey to keep our PADI up-to-date, as it is something that we are definitely going to continue with in the future.

Unlike the quaint Hoi An, Nha Trang wasn’t particularly the epicentre of Vietnamese culture with its high-rises and resorts, so there wasn’t any pressure to get out and see the sights, which meant that the rest of the day could be spent guilt-free lazing about on the beach. That evening we trekked to the other side of town to eat at the renowned Lac Canh restaurant; a Nha Trang institution famous for its mouth- and eye-watering cooked at-table barbeques. For the very reasonable price of £5 we feasted on barbequed fish, marinated barbequed beef, stir-fried spinach and garlic, garlic rice and beers, absolutely delicious especially since it was cooked by us! Too full to contemplate the thirty minute walk back to the hostel, we enlisted the help of a friendly cyclo driver; the poor sod bearing the brunt of our feast as he huffed and puffed and cycled us all the way home!

Next stop Ho Chi Minh City, where I was interested to see the disparities between the country’s northern capital Hanoi and the furiously commercial city of HCMC, where we had been warned that America’s influence had not been completely obliterated when the north liberated Saigon in 1975. Pizza Hut and KFC aren’t the only reminders of the American’s presence in HCMC, and after Forrest got fitted for a tailor-made suit, we did some sightseeing around the city to understand more. We visited the Reunification Palace, where a red flag billows proudly above the previous home and office of the South’s president Ngo Dinh Diem. A replica of the North Vietnamese tank that stormed the palace’s gates in 1975, a defining moment in the fall of Saigon, stands just inside the entrance as an imposing reminder of the victory. The rest of the palace wasn’t particularly interesting, but does serve as a veritable time-capsule of 1960s and 1970s kitsch with its dial-phones and swirly carpets.

After the palace we headed to the War Remnants Museum, an experience I was not looking forward to after the harrowing visit to S21 in Phnom Penh and thanks to Watson’s advice to ‘definitely not go’ as the girls he went with spent the entire time traumatised and sobbing. Forrest had insisted that it was vital that we went; as ethical and moral Gap Yaher’s it was our duty to understand that there is a great deal more to Vietnam than beautiful beaches, serene pagodas and millions of scooters. He explained that when studying history at school, a phrase often used to describe the importance of the subject is “how do we know where we are going, let alone where we are, if we don’t know where we came from,” and this most certainly applies in abundance to Vietnam whereby learning and understanding the mistakes made in past, will hopefully prevent them from happening again in the future. He was quite right of course and I quickly manned-up, chagrined by my unwillingness to cloud my Gap Yah with the harsh truths of reality. The remnants of the war are clearly visible in Saigon’s streets; with a disturbing number of people clearly victims of landmines and other violence, but the exhibits in the museum, a distressing compendium of the horrors of modern warfare, really did speak for themselves. I’m not ashamed to admit that I chose not to go into one exhibition detailing the effects of the 75 million litres of defoliant sprays dumped across the country, with a grisly portfolio of photographs of mutilation, napalm burns and torture, as I imagined that would be a little too much for me to bear. I did however find the exhibition of war photographs taken by the countless photo-journalists who lost their lives working in order that people back home could understand what was happening in Vietnam to be particularly interesting, albeit still deeply distressing, due to my new knowledge and understanding of this aspect from The Lotus Eaters. All-in-all a pretty sobering afternoon indeed.

More war the following day, with a half day tour to the Cu Chi tunnels. Although the War Remnants Museum is undoubtedly Saigon’s most popular tourist attraction and was bustling with crowds, this didn’t detract from the solemnity of the exhibitions. The same can’t be said however for the Cu Chi tunnels, which felt as though we were in a purpose-built tourist attraction similar to the Yorvik Viking museum in York for example. It’s a shame because the tunnels themselves are an astonishing feat of great magnitude; 250km of underground tunnels, up to four levels deep, complete with latrines, wells, meeting rooms and even rudimentary hospitals. Today, the tunnels have been widened (luckily!) for Western tourists, but it’s still a very claustrophobic and sweaty experience, so I can’t imagine how it must have been for the Viet Cong who sometimes had to stay down there for weeks on end. One thing is for sure though, Forrest and I wouldn’t have made very good Viet Cong as Forrest was far too tall and I was far too hot. That evening we celebrated Independence Day on the banks of the Saigon River, with what seemed like the cities entire population who congregated on their bikes, all rejoicing in the independence that they had fought so aggressively for. We had a prime spot, nestled in between young Vietnamese couples and families, to watch the fireworks over the water. A magical end to the evening.

I am aware (Dad) that this issue of the Gap Yah Chronicles is a bit of a boringly repetitive read of “we did this and then we did this”, rather than my usually excellent knack for simply editing out the highlights and presenting them in an amusing manner, but I hope that I have remedied this slightly by ensuring that my paragraphs aren’t too long (again, Dad!). Because our days were now numbered and the end was nigh we were filling our days with activities and tours in order to experience as much of Vietnam as possible in the short amount of time we had left, which unfortunately for you my loyal followers, means another the following day…

…Having not learnt our lesson from the debacle of a tourist trap at the Cu Chi tunnels, we’d unwisely embarked on yet another tour, this time to see the Mekong Delta. Had we had longer then we would have spent a couple of days in the Delta, taking time to explore the less touristy parts, but instead we were forced to join the throngs of tourists as we were herded around the tourist attractions, such as a coconut plantation and a honey farm. We didn’t really get to experience the true beauty of the region, our judgement being entirely clouded by the company we were in who relentlessly informed, advised, cajoled and bored us in an attempt to recruit us on to their super product Herbalife. Although still touristy, the small canoe ride down one of the narrower creeks gave us a glimpse of what we might have experienced on a more relaxed itinerary, and with hindsight we regretted not leaving an extra few days to go deeper into the Delta to see the traditional way of life in Vietnam’s ‘Rice Bowl’.

We’d had an incredible time in Vietnam; a country of so much natural beauty, culture, character and charm, still deeply clouded by its troubled past. I had been pleasantly surprised at how much I fell in love with the country, and definitely plan to return in the future for there is a wealth of beauty still yet to discover.

We left Vietnam for our final destination, Bangkok, where we were to spend one final night before flying home. Despite having only visited Hualamphong train station and a shopping mall, our enthusiasm for sightseeing by this stage had totally waned, and we were unable to muster up any fervour for the temples, shrines and Buddha’s dotted around the city. We explored the noisy markets of the infamous Koa San Road, stocking up on last minute gifts and dodging fortune-tellers and tailors, but aside from this exertion we were more than happy to just chill by the pool on the roof of our hotel (much fancier than it sounds!) and get one last pampering of pedicures and massages, a luxury that we will be unable to afford again for a very long time! And because it was our last night we splashed out and went to a beautiful rooftop bar recommended by Katie Walmsley called The Nest, where we indulged in a posh mojito “bucket”, tapas and a bottle of red wine while watching the lightning streak across Bangkok’s skyline.

I sit here typing this in Heathrow’s Terminal 3, as we patiently wait for the final leg of our Gap Yah journey home, the thought occurs to me that I am going to have to come up with a thought-provoking, intelligently-worded, humorous and witty ending to the Gap Yah Chronicles to sufficiently encapsulate the last eight months. Yet all I can seem to think about is how much I wish we had budgeted for a packet of salt and vinegar Squares in the airport. My tan may be already fading and we may have returned with barely a penny to our names, but I can resolutely assure you that this one time, on our Gap Yah, we have returned richer in every other way. I’d have also quite liked a Ribena.

Forrest's Final Final Thought...

The 2011 Gap Yah Chronicle Awards

The GYC awards are brought to you by Havaianas™, whose flip-flops managed break and thus fail me for one final humiliating time as I disembarked the plane at Heathrow, causing me to walk barefoot through approximately fifteen rounds of security and passport control.

Favourite City

The Nominees: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Cartagena, Colombia; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Melbourne, Australia; Hanoi, Vietnam.

The Winner: Cartagena, Colombia. A very very close call indeed, but this beautiful colonial city with its charming cathedrals, horse drawn carriages and quaint and colourful streets all infused with romantic Spanish architecture just pips Rio de Janeiro to the post.

Best Hostel

The Nominees: Rio Hostel, Rio de Janeiro; Dreamers Hostel, Santa Marta; Loki Hostel, Mancora & Cusco; The Secret Garden, Quito & Cotopaxi; Hanoi Backpackers, Hanoi.

The Winner: Rio Hostel, Rio de Janeiro. Beating off fierce competition from The Secret Garden, Rio Hostel was everything you wanted from a hostel and more; awesome people, awesome views, awesome Caipirinhas, awesome parties and awesome ham and cheese toasties every morning to nurse those hangovers.

Best Hotel

The Nominees: The Six Senses, Koh Samui.

The Winner: The Six Senses, Koh Samui. This place was so much in a league of its own that it was quite literally pointless to even include other nominees.

Most Beautiful Beach

The Nominees: Playa Blanca, Colombia; 'The one on from Cabo San Juan' - Tayrona National Park, Colombia; Byron Bay - New South Wales, Australia; Maya Bay - Koh Phi Phi, Thailand; Haad Yuan - Koh Phangan, Thailand.

The Winner: 'The one on from Cabo San Juan' - Tayrona National Park, Colombia. Although we can't quite remember its exact name this isolated and tranquil stretch of golden white sand was nothing short of serene.

Top Trekking Experience

The Nominees: Amazonian Jungle Trek, Brazil; Ciudad Perdida, Colombia; Colca Canyon, Peru; The Inca Trail (Machu Picchu), Peru; Ayers Rock Base Walk, Australia.

The Winner: Ciudad Perdida, Colombia. By far the most challenging of the treks we undertook, and consequently the most rewarding, the Lost City trek was 5 days of ruin and reward, all helped along by hilarious comedy duo of Kyle and Josh. And let’s not forget The Russian.

Coolest Crossfit

The Nominees: CrossFit Rocinha, Brazil; CrossFit Bogota, Colombia; CrossFit Lima, Peru; CrossFit Melbourne, Australia; CrossFit Chiang Mai, Thailand.

The Winner: CrossFit Chiang Mai. The venue was wicked, the people were sound and it had a very cool vibe. The only drawback to this place was the tortuous FRAN workout I was subjected to, which, in turn, nearly resulted multiple heart attacks, as well the inability to raise my arms for about 5 days.

Best Correspondence Award

The Nominees: Gazz Jones; Emily Watson & Sam Crocker; Doug Mcilroy; Jenny Dixon & Rob West; Rob Watson; The Forrest Family; The Cross Family.

The Winner: Emily Watson & Sam Crocker. Great Skype sessions which included lots of laughter, as well as the news of a wedding and a God Bean! Oh, and let’s not forget Emily’s “South America a la Emily” - the quintessential guide to the must do’s and must not do’s of Latin America.

Favourite Dive/Snorkel Site

The Nominees: The Whitsundays, Australia; The Great Barrier Reef, Australia; Koh Tao, Thailand; Sihanoukville, Cambodia; Nha Trang, Vietnam.

The Winner: Nha Trang, Vietnam. It take a lot to beat the coral rich waters of Koh Tao, but Nha Trang had a mind-blowingly diverse range of marine life including quite literally, the Coolest Fish in the World© - the “raver” fish. You should have seen him go!

Most Amazing Animal Encounter

The Nominees: Baby Caiman Alligators - the Amazon, Brazil; Condor - Colca Canyon, Peru; Lion Cubs - Buenos Aires Zoo, Argentina; Green Turtle - Koh Tao, Thailand; Bottlenose Dolphins - Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

The Winner: Baby Caiman Alligators – the Amazon, Brazil. Francisco’s skill and expertise provided us with wonderfully happy encounter with these little ‘uns, whilst at the same time avoiding a potentially very unhappy encounter with their mother!

Coolest Bar/Club

The Nominees: La Catedral, Buenos Aires; The Marina Bay Sands Bar, Singapore; The Treehouse, Koh Phangan; Guys Bar, Koh Phangan; Eden Gardens, Koh Phangan

The Winner: Guys Bar, Koh Phangan. Good times... great times.

Tastiest Traditional Cuisine

The Nominees: Feijoada, Brazil; Cerviche, Colombia; Steak, Argentina; Pad Thai & Thai Curry, Thailand; Pho, Vietnam.

The Winner: Pad Thai & Thai Curry, Thailand. I feel as though I have betrayed part of my soul by not selecting Argentina and its mouth-watering steaks, but the truth is we spent about two months in Thailand and didn’t have one bad meal, the food was truly outstanding. It’s a shame Australia didn’t even manage to get a nomination, but for budget conscious Gap Yah’ers, price is a big factor; £1.40 in Thailand you would get a good meal in a nice restaurant, £1.40 in Australia would struggle to get you a side order of tomato ketchup.

And the LOSERS...

Most Irritating Animal Award

The Nominees: Cleaner Fish - Koh Toa, Thailand; Flies - Ayers Rock, Australia; Giant Centipedes - Pai, Thailand; Sea Urchin – Koh Phi Phi, Thailand; Mosquitoes - everywah.

The Winner: Mosquitos - everywah. I’ll quote Richard from Alex Garland’s The Beach for this one... “I carry a lot of scars... a lot of scars.”

Biggest Disappointment Award

The Nominees: The Nazcar Lines, Peru; Full Moon Party, Koh Phangan; Tubing, Loas.

The Winner: Full Moon Party, Koh Phangan. Words can’t begin to describe how pants this pathetic excuse for a party was. I never in my life seen so many d**kheads and heard so much bad music coming out of so many different sound systems all at once. If throwing a bad party was a crime, the organisers of this would be serving life sentences.

Worst Correspondence Award

The Nominees: Will “Kaisbar” Collinge, Christopher Burton, Thomas Manuel

The Winner: Thomas Manuel. It took Burton seven and a half months to get in contact with us, whilst Will managed to let his presence known a mere two days before we returned home. But the clear winner is Thomas Manuel, has anyone heard from or seen this man in the last 8 months? Moreover, is he still alive?