Ha hah! Gotcha again. If you are expecting tales of Laudanum lounges, opium dens and illicit substance abuse, that's not really 'ma' bag'. As a general rule I favour legal, rather than illegal, methods of intoxication. Even so, the desire and opportunity to imbibe, on the scales I might at home, have been few and far between.
Rather than try to measure the economies that I have visited based on their RPI or GDP, I've been using the RBI (Relative Beer Index) - that is, how much do I pay for a pint (or relative volumetric equivalent) of beer. I decided to measure this irrespective of 'quality', partly due to there being little choice, but mainly because, as an 'ale' drinker, almost everything on offer was bottles lager and not really to my taste. However, I will try to give an objective view of the different beers on offer during my travels so far.
Russia - RBI £5 - £7
Well, there is a reason that Moscow has a reputation as one of the most expensive cities in the world. According to Wikipedia, beer is the second most popular alcoholic drink in Russia, after...well, Vodka, what else and is seen as a healthy alternative. Unfortunately, I didn't come across much Russian beer as most of the hotels that I stayed in preferred to offer Czech or German alternatives and, frankly, not the best ones either. It wasn't bad, just a bit flavourless and fizzy, and I did have a couple of opportunities to try canned local beer. Listvyanka was the only place where I was able to taste some quite decent draught beer. I mentioned, in one of my earlier blogs, my time in St. Petersburg. Here, my local was an authentic [sic] Irish Pub that served a dubious pint of London Pride and a passable Guinness.
By contrast, vodka is definitely cheaper and, in preparation for my train journey, I bought a bottle of mid-range rocket fuel. This was partly because, within 24hours of arriving in sub-zero conditions, I developed mild sinusitis - a condition that would stay with me until china - and, have brought no medication with me for such an eventuality, the vodka was a good substitute. I have to say, I didn't realise that one human body could continually produce soooo much mucus!
Outer Mongolia - RBI £4 - £6
Again, predominantly imported lager of average quality, I was only in Ulaanbataar long enough to sample a couple of pints. My most bizarre experience in UB was caffeine related. I'd not long arrived in the city and took a walk from my hotel to the downtown area. Even dressed in my ski suit and tights, after about 20 minutes I felt like someone was sticking a million pins in my legs. So I stopped at a cafe, called Lilly's, for a coffee. I was handed a menu as I sat down and there was an impressive selection of hot drinks available. Opting for a cappuccino, I placed my order. the waitress retreated to the kitchen and I sat back to write some emails. After about 20 minutes, my drink had not come so, catching the waitress' eye, I asked if my coffee was on its way. I was met with a slightly irritated response that led me to think that I was being unreasonable impatient. Obviously , I thought, they take their coffee seriously and good coffee take time. I continued to wait.
During the next 15 minutes, the cafe filled with police officers on their break. Beer and vodka all round - no doubt to counter the bitter cold. Then my drink arrived. After nearly 40minutes in the making the waitress placed on the table in front of me and cup of steaming...hot water! Next to it, on a saucer, a sachet of powdered 'cappuccino' mix and a spoon! I had to be impressed.
China - RBI £0.60 - £1
Tsingtao beer is quite a passable beer and at these prices cheaper than bottled water. The general alternative, for a nights drinking, is the rice wine spirit. I did try some and, whilst the expensive stuff is ok, the cheaper brands are like drinking formaldehyde. Frankly, I decided to stick to nail varnish remover. It tastes better and is, by comparison, by far the healthier option.
China doesn't really have an obvious bar culture. However, there was a bar near my hotel in Nanjing and so I decided to give it a try. As I walked in, I could have been in Porthmadog! It went very quiet and the few people there all looked at me. I sat down and the group of younger guys playing cards continued their game. The old drunk in the corner decided he wanted to talk to me and, negotiating the two chairs and a table between us, fell into the seat next to mine. It was quite convivial and, although neither of is had language in common, we swapped names (I can't, for the life of me remember his) and ages. He was so pleased that he was 4 years older than me - even if he looked 4 times that.
Hong Kong - £4.50 - £7
The better bars are on the Island, but all are frequented by the massive ex-pat community in Hong Kong and Kowloon. Most places served a choice of cold, draught lager, Guinness, or cider. The Guinness was palatable and so that was what I mainly drank. Hong Kong is a pincushion of glass and concrete tower blocks. It has the most expensive real estate prices in the world and everything exists on vertical, as well as horizontal plane. There is something of a modern-day Florentine feel to the downtown area, as raised walkways carry pedestrian over and along the busy roads beneath. Reaching from one office block to another, through shopping malls and hotels, these viaducts allow people to move from one part of the city to another, only rarely having to set foot on street level and mix with the hoi-poloi.
Vietnam - RBI £0.60 - £1
The Vietnamese are quite proud of their beer. Each city brews its own brand, so you get Bie Hoi (Hoi An), bie Saigon, Bie Hanoi, etc. In addition, there is often 'fresh' beer on offer. Usually brewed that day by a local brewer, this is a crisp, cool lager.
On the train from Hanoi to to Hoi An, I met Steve (who I'd previously met on a boat in Halong Bay) and Julia. Hoi An being a small place, we met up a few times to sample the food and beer, sometimes in copious quantities. A couple of days into our stay, Steve's bold and convivial character added Chloe to our number. It turned out that the day before (27th Jan) had been Chloe's 27th birthday, so an excuse for a celebration. Of all of the people I'd met so far, Chloe was one of the most enigmatic. Slim and attractive, she was also a good humoured French woman who is an airline pilot and who's family owns a vineyard! And she was travelling alone!!
After a chilled few days, I left Hoi An on the back of a Honda Master 125 with an 'Easy Rider' driver called Mr Quang, for a few days touring the mountainous midlands of the country. It was wonderful to get away from the tourist trail and head off on a less beaten track. From the coast, we headed west, up into the hills. We visited waterfalls, hillside villages and temples over a five day trip that was extended to nine days as I was having so much fun and there were things I wanted to see near the coast too. Sometimes for several hours, with the odd stop to stretch our legs, I would sit on the back of the bike watching the scenery and losing myself in thought. The roads, once we had left the coastal area, were relatively empty, at least until we hit the Hoi Chi Men Highway that runs south to north along the western boarder of Vietnam. Although not busy in western terms, this is the main route through that part of the county to/from the north west and is plied by trucks and buses. It was only a week before Tet (the lunar new year) and so the buses were many and in a hurry. It isn't unusual to see fast moving buses overtaking mopeds, trucks, and other buses on blind corners and, sometimes three abreast.
It was about day 4 of our road trip and Mr Quang was negotiating a mountain pass. I was dreamily watching the emerald and jade coloured, tree lined landscape pass by on either side. As the bus came around the corner ahead of use, overtaking it's colleague and on the wrong side of the road, I thought nothing of it, as this was a frequent occurrence. The bus was leaning heavily on its off-side as it rounded the bend and the loud bang that was a front tyre exploding made me start. Still moving towards the bus, we weren't aware, until it was too late that the near side wheels had left the road surface and it was falling onto its side. As steel met tarmac, the scraping, screeching sound of the bus landing, like a breaching whale, reached my ears. But the bus kept coming.
In theatrical slow motion reminiscent of a premiership football action replay, we hit the windscreen of the coach. Quang and the bike disappeared through a mist of shattering glass whilst I was catapulted from the pillion, high into the air. I slowly performed a forward roll in mid-air, landing on my back on the hard by yielding roof of the second coach. As I slid from the smooth surface of the bus top toward the ground twelve feet below, I awoke with a jolt. I was in my bed, in my hotel. I was in a cold sweat and disorientated. I lay thinking for a few minutes and then knew that I had just experienced the darker side effects of the only other drug that I'd been taking. Doxycycline! A malarial profolactic. I began to remember how, when Vicky and I had used this on other trips, it has the propensity to stimulate incredibly vivid and memorable dreams. These were not always bad, but always clear and alarmingly stark. (Note to self: remember to take tablet with breakfast, not supper!)
All was well. Quang was safe in the room next door and the bike was awaiting our next day's adventure in the compound below my window. In the dark silence of the early hours of a Vietnamese pre-dawn, I turned over and closed my eyes and went back to sleep. Hopeful of finding other, more pleasant things on which to build a dream.
Next up, Rock And Roll!
No comments:
Post a Comment