Interlude.

The turn of the week, and month, marked the mid-way point of my journey, and 2/3rds of my time in Asia. I have been in Hong Kong for just under a week, and tomorrow evening will be crossing the border into 'China proper'.

Before I left Vietnam, I did what many (admittedly Colonial) Europeans had done before me, and holidayed in Dalat. Having a 'holiday' whilst travelling, I appreciate, is a strange concept, especially if you're reading this from your office desk, so think of it more of a change of scenery. Dalat is much cooler than the rest of Vietnam, is very green and luscious, and according to my guidebook (which varies as to reliability) is pretty bohemian. Not being very bohemian myself, I didn't appreciate this vibe, if there even was one, but I did enjoy the multitude of art galleries, bakeries and adventure sports operators. After my assigned day of rest, which mainly involved camping out in the bed to which I was allergic in my cheapo hostel, sneezing and trying to get my head around 'The Rough Guide to China' (which I later traded in for a preferable Lonely Planet of varying reliability) I decided I wanted an adventure before I left Vietnam and ventured out to the 'Groovy Gecko' to see what might be on offer. Whilst there I met two lovely guys who were, the next day, planning on going 'canyoning'. I jumped aboard this plan, and the next morning found myself at the top, and on the edge of various rock crags and waterfalls with a rope, reassuringly duck-taped at intervals, attached to my waist. I believe the last time I did anything involving climbing and harnesses I was still in a 'Rainbows' tabard, and this extensive experience was, unsurprisingly, of limited utility. After a few practice drops, we did the real thing. And it was amazing. 

We started off with two 'dry drops', which were the standard rock-face abseiling, and gave us the opportunity to perfect the wide-legged straddle and frog-jumps - and to learn to hold on to the somewhat counter-intuitively correct part of the rope. After these, we trekked further through the forest, the terrain making Sapa look like a child's playground. I employed the full-body climbing quite frequently, and also, quite frequently, ended up on my backside, sliding down the rock/mud/into the river. 

I can only describe the waterfall climbs as 'interesting' and 'exhilarating'. The first went well, I thought. I fell about 1/3rd of the way down and it took a lot of concentration, and all of my pitiful upper-body strength to find a footing (there is no grip) and to pull myself back up to standing with the torrential water splashing down with full force on my face and body. Before the climb, our grumpy instructor had warned us, at all costs, against letting go of the rope behind us. I did of course do this when I fell, clinging to the rope above me, but instinctively corrected myself after I slipped again. The second attempt saw success and the rest of the climb was fine. At the end of the waterfall, as I came to the bottom, I ran out of rope. It is here that you have to jump, let go and fall into the pool at the bottom. I doubted whether I was capable of mustering enough actual courage to do this, and so I just did it. It was awesome. After a picnic lunch and some more trekking, this time with deliberate slipping and sliding along and through river currents, we approached out final climb. This one is nicknamed, and I would say appropriately so, the "Washing Machine" (it was nice to be told this before the climb). For this climb there was only 3m of overhanging rock to climb down before it concaved in beneath where we were standing and it was just fast and free flowing water, which we had to lower ourselves down through, using just the rope controls. I literally have only one thought about this climb, which is: "so that's what it's like to be completely inside a waterfall". The water is so very powerful, completely envelops you within it and you are powerless to do anything except be buffeted around in a torrent of falling river. It is amazing though; quite a humbling, disorientating experience but one pumped with adrenaline and excitement!

The next morning I took an 8 hour bus back to Saigon ahead of my flight. It went fine, except for the continuous 8 hours of Vietnamese music (of all genres) which I tired of after hour 2. By hour 5, "Disco Hour", I'd had enough. Luckily Dad was pretty hot on the sound-reduction headphone research and it was me and the Chilli Peppers flying away on my happy little zephyr for the remainder of the trip.  

The original 'plan' was to fly from Saigon straight to Beijing and loop down to Xi'an and Shanghai and then go through Mongolia to Ulan-Ude. The diplomatic relationship between Vietnam and China is tense, and I am told (by my bent policeman friend) that a few weeks ago the Chinese embassies in Hanoi and Saigon stopped receiving visa applications from non-nationals. To get around this I flew to Hong Kong, where an entry visa is not required and it would be fairly easy to apply for a Chinese visa. One potential hiccup that luckily didn't scupper anything  was my ill-informed timing. Upon arriving in Hong Kong I learned that Friday was the first of a 10 day national Chinese holiday, which presumably the Chinese Embassy would also observe. Enough things have gone wrong for me to realise, as Clare said I would, that a plan is rarely a plan, but merely a notion about that which I would like to do. Spending two weeks in Hong Kong was certainly not the worst case scenario. Luckily though, my visa has been processed and was returned to me yesterday, leaving me free to see more of China, and at a more leisurely pace that I might otherwise have done. Tomorrow evening I am going to make a start on this and will be flying to Guilin in SW China. I had initially purchased a bus ticket to make this journey, but was informed post-purchase, that to cross the border this way would involve taking a train to near the border, walking across it and then getting a taxi to a bus station - which could potentially be quite dangerous. Having had enough passport and visa drama for one trip, I bought a plane ticket.

As convenient a lay-over as Hong Kong has been for obtaining a visa, it has also been a fantastic mini-trip in itself. Not only have I had fabulous hosts (yes Terence, please take note - fabulous), but the city is also quite an exciting place to be. My first day here was really happy-making simply because everything seemed so Western and familiar. I had a wonderful feeling of safety and being able to relax wandering around a city that is much like London, where signposts are bilingual and if you get lost all you have to do is find a tube (or MTR) stop. I've also appreciated the countless malls, which have enabled me to replace my frankly nasty old travelling wardrobe with some new, better fitting clothes (I've lost some weight) and to buy a proper, reliable backpack that is not going to break on me in the middle of Siberia, as my knock-off Vietnamese night market bargain certainly would have. Also, and I'm really not as ashamed of this as I should be - I've visited Starbucks every day and it has made my very happy indeed. I also like coffee now, apparently.

Two days in particular stand out for me as incredible from this week. The first was the day I took the tram up to Victoria Peak. The view from the top of the peak is quite outstanding, and I loved feeling the gusts of wind from that height. But it got so much better than this. I decided to walk back down the peak to the central district, which was clearly signposted along a neat pathway. In doing so, I did, of course, get lost. But the 'long way down' worked out quite spectacularly. As I walked I noticed a few eagles flying up above me, so I stopped to watch and photograph them. As I got further down the mountain I turned a corner and witnessed literally hundreds  of eagles flying over the forests and ocean. I've asked a few people, one of whom informed me that the eagles are actually quite famous and a reason that people will visit Hong Kong, but I am yet to find out the type of eagle and why there were so many of them. It was quite spectacular to stand there in the dusk watching them, and so very beautiful.

Secondly, and even more excitingly, today I jumped the world's tallest bungee jump! It's the first time I've done a bungee jump - was incredible - and definitely wont be the last jump I do. The jump is from the Macau Tower, and is officially the highest in the world at 233 metres or 764 ft. It is the most vivid, adrenaline-pumping and stimulating experience I have ever had - and the 6 seconds for which I was falling felt like an intense rush of excitement and wonder, that was definitely much longer than 6 actual seconds. I had my eyes open the whole time, not wanting to miss a thing, and was most scared at the top, when the weights fastened around my ankles dropped from the platform before me, and I could feel the drag tugging down before I was allowed to drop. As excited as I was at the prospect of falling through so much space and so freely, there was a physical instinct that kicked in with fear, nano-seconds before the fall. The crew members counted me down and then I just went. If you ever get the chance, just say yes. You wont regret it.

ALSO. The lovely bungee jump people gave me a CD of my photographs from the jump, and so peruse away. Golly. It's almost like it's a proper travel blog!