Trwbwl yn Tai ond ddim i ni'n dau!

Y bore gadawon ni Laos fe welon ni ystlumod a llygod mawr wedi crebachu'n ddu ar werth yn y farchnad. Roedd cyrraedd gwlad lle roedd 'na Tesco's, strydoedd concrid a cheir cyfforddus yn teimlo braidd yn anniddorol. Ond rhyfedd pa mor gloi chi'n newid eich meddwl...

Chiang Mai oedd y stop cyntaf - tref sy'n hynod boblogaidd ar nos Sul, y noson y cyrhaeddon ni -noson y farchnad nos. Mae stondinau bwyd a chrefftau yn llenwi'r tir o amgylch y temlau a'n gorlifo i'r brif stryd nes nad oes lle i draffig. Dim ond pobl a pherfformwyr cerddorol sy'n achosi'r jam, gyda dim lle i symud bron! Ond yn ystod y dydd, mae'n dref hollol wahanol - y temlau'n dipyn mwy urddasol a'n sgleinio dan olau'r haul tanbaid. Mae'r strydoedd fwy neu lai yn wag, a chi'n cael y teimlad bod yr holl falangs, y tramorwyr, wedi heidio o'r dref... i chwilio am y Karen efallai. Un o'r llwythi lleiafrifol sy'n byw tu fas i Chiang Mai yw'r Karen. Mae ganddyn nhw yddfau hir gan eu bod nhw'n gwisgo cymaint o fwclisau (yn ol un chwedl er mwyn atal teigrod rhag eu cnoi nhw.) Ond, er i ni ymweld a phentrefi lleiafrifol yn Fietnam a cherdded drwy un arall yn Laos, roedd y syniad o fynd i weld y Karen yn teimlo ormod fel mynd i sw dynol.

Yn lle hynny, gethon ni wers goginio bwyd Tai. Ond tra'n bod ni'n llosgi'n tafodau ar chilli a basil sanctaidd, do'n ni ddim yn ymwybodol bod pethe'n poethi draw yn Bangkok. Mae'n hen hanes nawr bod protestwyr yn erbyn y llywodraeth wedi meddiannu'r maes awyr ac achosi anrhefn yn y ddinas. Mae'n debyg bod dyn wedi'i saethu yn Chiang Mai hefyd, ond welon ni ddim byd. Dim byd ond lluniau ar y teledu ac erthyglau ar y we. Ond nid dyma'r math o gyffro fyddai unrhyw un yn dymuno'i gael dramor, yn enwedig gan i Hywel orfod roi ei ben nol mewn i ger gwaith wrth siarad a Gareth Glyn dros y cyfrifiadur ar gyfer y Post Prynhawn... Bu'n rhaid i ni anfonon e-byst adre hefyd i wneud yn siwr nad oedd neb yn poeni'n ddi-angen amdanon ni.

Heddi ry'n ni wedi bod yn cerdded drwy olion hen ddinas frenhinol Sukhothai; Y Frenhiniaeth Thai annibynnol cyntaf, gafodd ei sefydlu nol yn y 13G. Ro'n i'n teimlo fel pe baem ni'n cerdded drwy olion gwareiddiad coll wrth gerdded heibio colofnau tal tywyll oedd yn gwarchod Bwdas llonydd, a'r colomenod yn troelli uwchben.

Ond y cyffro mwyaf, oedd nid rafftio dwr gwyn ar afon Maetang, nid bwyta salad papaya nethon ni'n hunain, nid y bang bangio yn Bangkok.... ond goroesi trip ar gefn motobeic a Hywel yn gyrru. Ond yr unig ffordd i fi beidio cwyno'n ofnus fel babi dros bob bwmp a thro yn y ffordd oedd cael massage thai ar y ffordd adref. Ac yn lle cwyno'r holl ffordd adre, fe hedfanais i'n lle.

Khawp jai lai lai Laos

LUANG PRABANG: Elephants and cockerels

If its at all possible to call any part of Laos 'leafy' or 'refined', then it's probably Luang Prabang. This was once the royal capital in a 'Million Elephant kingdom'. It largely escaped the bombing endured by the rest of the country in the 20th century, due to the king cutting a deal with the French. The monarchy has since been sent into exile (or killed, depending who you believe...) but their palace still stands, surrounded by dozens of beautiful temples, all flanked by two rivers. And of course, there are the elephants..

We were initially very wary of going to an elephant camp - worried that they would be poorly treated in captivity. After asking around, we found one which operates as a sanctuary for former working elephants from the logging trade, with its own vet and education programme. Our consciences somewhat appeased, we took a bumpy tuk-tuk ride into the hills to meet Mae Khan - a beautiful, gregarious 45 year old with long eye lashes, who weighs in at around three tonnes. We were able to ride on her back through the woods and across the river - learning from her handler that she eats more than our combined body weight every day. She had a particular liking for bamboo and bananas...

We've had lots of good experiences like this in Laos, but its strange how quickly things which used to seem quite exotic now feel normal. In every town we've been woken early by the sound of cockerels - a far more common site than any other pet. We no longer bother getting photos of every orange-robed monk we see. Bumping along roads made of soil and stone has become entirely normal, as has eating buffalo skin and river moss for supper. In fact, the biggest novelty of the last few weeks was spotting a Tesco air freshener in one of our hotels. We can't work out how it got there - there are no supermarkets. If you want to buy food, or anything else for that matter, you go to the stalls that fill every street from 5am.

By now we've crossed the border and have just arrived in Thailand - opting to take an hour flight instead of the three day boat and bus journey we'd originally planned. We also made another video - perhaps we're missing work more than we thought...

VANG VIENG: Lan y Mynydd, Dan yr Ogof, Lawr yr Afon

Roedd ‘na Sais, Albanwr a Gwyddeles ar y bws mini i Viang Vieng yn barod. Pan gyrhaeddon ni, ro’n nhw wrth eu bodd ein bod ni’n cwblhau’r hen joc. Ro’n ni gyd ar ein ffordd i’r dref sy’n fecca i deithwyr sydd eisiau’r cyfle i diwbio lawr afon Nam Song.

Dyna i gyd yw tiwbio yw eistedd mewn olwyn rwber fawr ac arnofio lawr yr afon. Ond yma, mae cyfres o dafarndai bach ar y lan, lle gallwch chi dorri syched ar y ffordd. Ar ein taith ni yn y tiwb, fe welon ni’r Gwyddelod gyda’i gilydd yn y bar, yr Albanwr yn chwerthin wrth arnofio heibio yn ei diwb, a’r Sais braidd yn gallu cerdded wrth fynd nol i’w olwyn e, plaster am ei ben a rhwyg mewn man anffodus yn ei shorts ar ol syrthio’n feddw i’r dwr yn gynharach. Dyna ddiwedd y joc yna te...

Nid tiwbio oedd uchafbwynt Vang Vieng i ni, ond cael cyfle i gerdded ymhell o’r dref a’i tv bars i ganol y jyngl. Ar adegau, roedd rhaid i’n tywysydd, Lay, ddefnyddio cleddyf mawr i dorri’r deiliach o’r llwybr o’n blaen. Aeth e a ni dros greigiau, drwy afonydd, lan a lawr mynyddoedd, heibio heidiau o bili-palaod ac i ogofau sych a gwlyb yng ngolau cannwyll. Gydol yr amser, roedd e’n siarad yn frwdfrydig am beth oedd o’n hamgylch – y coed banana a mango, y dail sinsir a’u gwraidd, y lindys blewog gwenwynig, cân y gecko lwcus a traddodiadau Laoeg eraill.

Ar ôl noson o gwsg mewn caban pren ar lan yr afon, lle roedd mwnci bach, druan, yn cael ei gadw’n gaeth, bant a ni lawr y Nam Song i ganwio’r holl ffordd nôl i’r dref.

Do, fe gwmpon ni mewn ar un adeg, a do, cafodd fy mhwrs ei ddwyn o’r lan ar adeg arall, a nawr ry’n ni’n dal wedi blino ar ol yr holl antur! Ond allen i’n bendant argymell taith dros brif-ffordd tyllog a throellog Laos draw i Vang Vieng, a’n sicr nid dim ond i fynd i tiwbio.

Full moon in SAVANNAKHET and VIENTIANE

"Where is the moon? Where is the moon?!" A toddler reaches her arm towards the sky, answering her doting father, the owner of our guesthouse. We are in Laos, and here they seem to learn from a very early age the importance of the moon. As it happens, our arrival coincided with the biggest full moon celebration of the year - the That Luang festival. Sadly, that was all happening in the north of the country, and we were in southern Savannakhet.

When you look at the guidebooks, they suggest Savannakhet has little more to offer than the road leading out of there - a handy stop over en route to Thailand or Vietnam - but we found it charming in a ramshackle sort of way. Its streets are dusty, and most of its French colonial buildings are in a poor state of repair, but after all the hustle and hassle you can find in Vietnam, it was a gentle introduction to a new country. And the people in Laos are as laid back as they come - happy to say hello without trying to sell you something.

Our first proper encounter was with a monk - who showed us around his monastery with a smattering of English, a few words of French - and an awful lot of Lao which we had no hope of understanding. He did teach us how to pronounce "khawp jai lai lai" (thank you very much), and we tried in return to teach him how to say "diolch". Later on, enjoying a Beer Lao as the sun set over the Mekong river, we made friends with Su and his sister Nan, who both wanted to practice their English. They were off to take part in a small full moon ceremony, floating a candle on the river - sadly we didn't have time to see it, as we had to catch the long, uncomfortable overnight bus north to Vientiane.

And so we arrived the morning after full moon - seeing rubbish on the streets and plenty of orange-robed monks who'd come here on pilgrimage still hanging around, taking holiday snaps on their mobile phones. The big attractions here are the Wat Buddhist monastaries - and having never been to one before coming to Laos, we've now seen at least six. They're all colourfully laid out, some with decoration that wouldn't look out of place in a disco. We'd resigned ourselved to having missed out on the big event, until we noticed some stalls being set up at one of the Wats. By evening, there was the sound of drums and high pitched screeching. When we wandered over to take a look - this is what we found...

So the celebrations hadn't finished after all - apparently they go on for a week. So far we are really enjoying Laos, and we found the moon!

Ta Ta to Uncle Ho (Ho)

He's been looking over us for the last few weeks as we travel around Vietnam, but tonight is our last in the company of Uncle Ho. Tomorrow on to Laos.

Hoi An: "Same Same but Different"

"Same Same but different" - brawddeg mae teithwyr eraill wedi dweud wrthon ni sy'n cael ei ddefnyddio'n aml yma yn Hoi An. Ry'n ni erbyn hyn wedi clywed y frawddeg sawl gwaith, ond dy'n ni'n dal ddim yn siwr beth mae e'n ei feddwl. Ry'n ni'n dyfalu mai rhywbeth i'w wneud a gwerthu copiau o nwyddau gwreiddiol yw e, neu falle ddweud bod pris yr un fath mewn siop arall ond bod y safon yn wahanol... S'mon ni'n siwr.

Beth bynnag, mae Hoi An yn debyg i bob man arall yn Fietnam, ond yn wahanol. Dyma fy hoff le i yma hyd yn hyn. Mae'n dref fach ger y mor oedd wedi tyfu'n wreiddiol fel canolfan fasnachu rhyngwladol - ac roedd Siapaneiaid a Tsieiniaid wedi dod yma i brynu'r cerrig gwerthfawr a'r sinamwn oedd ar gael. Rywsut, chafodd Hoi An mo'i ddifrodi yn ystod yr holl ryfeloedd sydd wedi digwydd 'ma ac mae pensaerniaeth y dref yn hardd tu hwnt. Mae llusernau bach lliwgar yn goleuo'r strydoedd, a swn cerddoriaeth a dawnsio traddodiadol yn cystadlu a bwrlwm y farchnad hynafol. Siopau teilwra yw'r rhan fwyaf sy 'ma nawr, ond mae Hywel a fi'n gwrthsefyll y demtasiwn o brynu dillad rhad wedi'u gwneud yn arbennig i ni.

Yn wahanol i Hoi An, lle gafodd ei ddinistrio'n llwyr yn ystod rhyfel Fietnam yn y chwedegau a'r saithdegau oedd Vinh Moc; pentref pysgota yn yr ardal sydd bellach yn cael ei alw yn DMZ, y Demilitarized Zone. I lochesi rhag y bomiau, fe balodd y pentrefwyr dan eu cartrefi gan greu rhwydwaith o dros 50 twnel. Bu tua tri chant o bobl yn byw yno am saith mlynedd tan i'r rhyfel ddod i ben. Yn yr amser hwnnw cafodd 17 o fabanod eu geni. Wrth grymu'n cefnau drwy'r twneli, roedd Hywel a fi'n rhyfeddu gynlleied o le oedd gan bob teulu i fyw - llai na 4m² yr un. Ond ro'n nhw'n dal i gyd-ganu ambell i noson, neu wylio ffilm Cheiniaidd neu Rwsiaidd yn yr un ystafell gyfarfod oedd ganddyn nhw.

Cyn dod i Hoi An - bu'r ddau ohonon ni'n crwydro drwy strydoedd cyn brif-ddinas Fietnam, Hue. Yno roedd citadel yr hen ddinas Imperialaidd oedd yn debyg i'r 'Forbidden City' yn Beijing, ond ar raddfa lai. Ar daith ar hyd yr 'Afon Bersawr' frown, fe welon ni pagodas a mauseoleums brenhinol cyn-ymerawdwyr Fietnam. Ro'n nhw wedi adeiladu pentrefi mawreddog fel beddi i'w hunain a'u cannoedd o wragedd a concubines. Mae llun yma hefyd o Tam Coc, Ninh Binh; lle sy'n cael ei ddisgrifio fel Bae Halong y tir. Yma mae rhwyfwyr cychod sampan yn defnyddio'u traed i gludo teithwyr i weld y talpiau calchfaen trawiadol sy'n codi o'r dwr (cyn defnyddio technegau amheus ofnadwy i geisio’n gorfodi i brynu nwyddau oddi wrthyn nhw.) Bu'n rhaid mynd ar ein cwrcwd i deithio drwy ogofau isel iawn i osgoi bwrw'n pen ar y to. Lle hardd tu hwnt lle roedd geifr ffol yr olwg yn gafael yn dynn i ddibyn y graig, a byffalos a’u lloi yn ymdrechu i gadw’u pen uwchben y dwr.

Ond yn Hoi An y’n ni nawr, yn aros i’r glaw gilio a’r haul ail-ymddangos. Profiad ry’n ni wedi’i gael sawl gwaith o’r blaen yn Fietnam.

Yr un peth... ond yn wahanol.

BAC HA then BACK TO A FLOOD

Until you see the Flower H'mong tribe - fully attired in day-glo striped shawls, bartering over a piece of meat or leading buffalos through the streets, its difficult to believe they even exist. But there they were, in their traditional costumes, doing the weekly shop in the market at Bac Ha, a northern hill town near the Chinese border. Our journey there involved nearly four hours in a minibus, feeling every twist, turn and bump along the way and pausing for the occasional landslide.

Thankfully it was worth it, and once you wondered beyond the stalls clearly intended just for us tourists, you entered another world. In one corner of the muddy square, a jumble of handmade hemp aprons, skirts and belts being picked through by old ladies. In another, big slabs of raw, fatty meat lay out on tables, with buyer and seller locked in negotiation. A little further on, we found a field of water buffalo and horses all up for sale and a rather unhappy pig squealing. Seduced by all the noise and colour, we broke our own pledge not to buy unnecessary souvenirs, and started the haggling. We took a liking to the traditional blankets – but starting prices were high. First of all the seller writes down a number – many hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese dong - then you have to feign exasperation, and offer something much, much lower. Its then their turn to puff the cheeks, laugh a little, and shave nearly 1% off their original price – in a huge gesture of international friendship. This goes on for some time. In the end, we bought a colourful blanket for less than a third of the original price – the woman having followed us around, determined she wouldn't lose a sale.

Once the deal was done, I think we both felt a little guilty for having haggled quite so hard over something that only cost eight pounds in the end - but then you look around, see everyone else there bartering, and realise we still probably paid over the odds. To celebrate we went for lunch. By now we’ve become confident enough to use the little market stalls where the locals go for bowls of ‘pho’ soup noodles. Our arrival was met with a few bemused glances – the three men on our table insisting we shake their hands. Then they insisted we share a little glass of corn wine – a 60% spirit brewed at home and kept in old plastic bottles. Not wanting to offend, we both took a careful sip – only to be told that it should be downed in one. We obliged – only for our glasses to be refilled. To cheers of “can chen!” a second and even third were drunk – making the ride home from Bac Ha a little smoother. And that should have been the end of that little adventure, except...

While waiting for our night train south back to Hanoi, we found an internet cafe to waste some time. It was there that we read that in the four days we’d been away from the capital, it had suffered its worst flooding for over twenty years. Some streets were still under feet of water – sadly some people had been killed. There was no real choice but to get on our train and hope for the best. When we arrived at Hanoi this morning, things didn’t seem too bad – but we decided it was best to keep moving, and take another train further south. And that’s where the fun began. Having bought the train ticket, we were told we’d actually have to get on a bus – the tracks to our destination being flooded. Once the bus was fully laden (they don’t like to waste a square inch of space here in Vietnam), we started on an hour long journey across the city – and saw the real damage. Waves formed along the road as we inched our way through the traffic – outside the bus window, hundreds of motorbike and moped drivers tried to keep their balance while driving against the tide. Some gave up – putting their bikes on the back of horse drawn carts to force a way though. It was a disaster. We feared the worse for our rucksacks stowed below – and by the time the bus finally found the train carriages, we’d resigned ourselves to everything being soaked. Thankfully the dampness was minimal, and after a mere two hour delay, the train to Ninh Binh finally got going. That’s where we are now, safe, well, clean and dry. We have even come across our first Welsh fellow traveller, Matthew from Gwynedd. Tomorrow will hopefully be less adventurous – a gentle bike ride will be enough for us both.

Dathlu 'mhenblwydd yn Sa Pa

Ar ol taith dros nos ar y tren o Hanoi, rhaid gyrru ar hyd hewlydd troellog lan drwy'r mynyddoedd i gyrraedd Sa Pa. Tref sy wedi'i orchuddio a blanced o niwl, ac wedi'i amgylchynu a nifer o bentrefi lle mae llwythi o leiafrifoedd ethnig yn byw. Mae saith llwyth gwahanol yn byw o amgylch fan hyn, pob un a'i iaith, ysgrifen, gwisg ac arferion unigryw ei hun. Maen nhw'n dod i'ch croesawi wrth i chi gyrraedd, yn wengar iawn, gyda'r gobaith efallai y gwnewch chi wedyn brynu peth o'u brodwaith...

Felly, i ddathlu mhenblwydd, aeth Hywel a fi ar daith gerdded i ymweld a dau bentref - y cyntaf yn gartref i lwyth yr H'mong Du a'r ail yn gartref i ddau lwyth sy'n cyd-fyw - y Dao Coch a'r Gyiai. Ein tywysydd oedd Suli, merch ugain oed o bentref Dao Coch cyfagos. Roedd hi wedi dysgu Saesneg wrth siarad a twristiaid, ond yn siarad yr iaith yn wych, ac yn amyneddgar iawn wrth ateb ein holl gwestiynnau ac egluro popeth ro'n ni eisiau ei wybod am y llwythi.

Maen nhw'n byw mewn tai pren bychan ynghanol caeau reis, gyda'u ieir, moch a cwn yn crwydro o'u hamgylch. Menywod yr H'mong Du sy'n gwneud y brodwaith o edau hemp, a'u gwyr sy fwyaf cyfrifol am y ffermio. Maen nhw ond yn cynhyrchu digon o gnydau i fwydo'u hunain, ac yn gwerthu'r brodwaith i geisio prynu bwyd ychwanegol.

Ethon ni i ymweld a dwy ysgol, y cyntaf yn un cynradd, lle roedd y plant yn gofyn am bonbons. Ond fe rannon ni beth orennau a bananas rhyngddyn nhw yn lle taffis, gyda chaniatad eu hathrawes. Roedd yr ysgol uwchradd wedi cau erbyn i ni gyrraedd yno, ond drwy ffenest oedd wedi chwalu ro'n ni'n gallu gweld eu desgiau pren hen ffasiwn, a'r wyddor ar y wal, oedd yn dechrau gyda thri 'A' gwahanol!

Roedd y daith adref yn antur. Motobeics. Ry'n ni wedi llwyddo i'w hosgoi nhw tan nawr, ond doedd dim dewis y tro 'ma. Mae arna i eu hofn nhw, ac ro'n i hyd yn oed yn fwy ofnus o feddwl bod y glaw wedi gwneud y ffyrdd mor llithrig. Dim ond ffyrdd cul y'n nhw lan 'ma yn y mynyddoedd, ac roedd rhaid i fi ddal f'anadl a pheidio edrych lawr y dibyn ar adegau pan roedd y nentydd wedi gorlifo'n rhaeadrau reit gryf dros y ffordd. Ond cyrhaeddon ni nol yn saff, y ddau ohonon ni, a gethon ni win am y tro cyntaf ers yr Eidal i ddathlu penblwydd bythgofiadwy.

Diolch i bawb anfonodd gyfarchion penblwydd ata i hefyd, roedd e'n gret i glywed wrthoch chi. Diolch yn fawr xxx