Reaching Hanoi in the morning. My wrist still hurts like mad. Well, why not take a taxi into town and then a bus directly on Cat Ba and relax a few days in Halong bay, I think. And so I start to pay my education fee to some smart Vietnamese, with no idea about the prices nor exchange rates. Eventually I reach Hai Phong by bus. The driver, who sold me a ticket to Cat Ba, drops my bags out of the bus and disappears. A flock of motorbike and taxi drivers surrounds me and wants to "give me a lift". The staff at the bus terminal isn't really helpful either. No one really speaking English. I'm tired, but determined not to waste any more money on them. Start to assemble my bike right in front of the bus terminal, still surrounded by a dozen of smiling kids and another dozen of taxi drivers who touch basically every part of the bike. Scary... The constant stream of honing motorbikes and busses and lorries just ahead of me is even more scary. Finally, the bike is ready and working well - my biggest concern is calmed. But where is the ferry port? No signs visible at all. One of the guys points to a direction... Off I go, eventually getting the drive and enjoy the messy traffic.

A somewhat English speaking lady brings me - not to the ferry port, but to a ticket office. Eager to get to Cat Ba, I pay 15$ for bus rides, and a speedboat transfer. Anything but happy I arrive just after a misty orange sunset on the island, get another bus ride to Cat Ba town and end up in a hotel on the main street. That first day in Vietnam ends with a big headache, probably from exhaustion. Motorbikes horn all night in front of my hotel, it seems. When I unpack my bags, I cannot find my new camera anymore. This is not Japan, I think by myself...

Next morning I discover a nice bakery just next door, the splendid view of the (noisy) harbor and the limestone rocks behind the line of hotels along the street. Two nice small beaches just half a mile away from the town, swimming in the warm sea in the morning sun. That's Asia, that's what I wanted. Spent days then cruising Halong Bay on houseboats and kayaking, hanging out on tiny beaches on small Robinson islands and collecting Shiva eye stones. Trekking in the Cat Ba National Park. Meet the right people in town, get the flow, fall in love and keep postponing my departure. Heaven, sort of. Why leave?

Next day – 65 miles to go to Ninh Binh on that very highway. Earplugs and Beatles help a lot to deal better with the traffic noise. I meet an Japanese speaking young man by accident and talk for an hour, and learn a lot about Vietnam. Easy riding today, only flat and straight good roads. I reach Ninh Binh in the early afternoon, find the first really nice Cafe bar and end up with a surprise invitation to a Vietnamese wedding for diner. Lucky to escape the heavy drinking just before loosing my orientation.

Two nice days in the best hotel in town, going around Ninh Binh on a rental motorbike with my traveling sister, first getting trapped in beautiful yet annoying tourist spots and eventually escaped to get some first taste of rural Vietnam off the beaten track. Then it is time to say good bye...

Next day, I head for Quan Hoa, again on small roads without traffic. Farmers plow rice paddies with the water buffaloes in the small valleys between the steep limestone rocks. There's more and more wooden pile houses the more I move on, and few towns with shops only. Steady ascending. Just after lunchtime I reach Quan Hoa, have a stopover and a coffee in a neat wooden "Eco Guesthouse" off the road beside a big river. Looking at the map, it's approximately 50 miles to go to the border, which I decide to do tomorrow. Finish for today. Two little boys join me for a walk and show me where to swim in the river...

Struggling to find my road to Na Meo next morning. The locals all send me 12 miles back to where I came from today, to take that road. Steep uphill from there for an hour, a truck collapsed on the road and a crane is maintaining the truck. The entire road is blocked, yet the locals help me to bypass the scene. Jungle, small wooden pile houses here and there, terrace rice paddies in the small valleys. Up and up the road goes. The locals take bamboo from the woods, cut it into meter long pieces and half them, pile them up. A few Eastearn german trucks bring the piles back down. Sunset, and still 20 miles to go to the town at the border. No guesthouses nor restaurants out here anymore, and the road is just steep ups and downs and serpents in the jungle. I'm tired, stop by a concrete house with official symbols in a very small village and ask for a room to stay. The friendly silent man shows me the meeting room of the house, making a gesture I could stay here. Providing even a diner, and two shoots of the local liqueur. I'm more than happy with that! We talk with paper and pen and hands. Only one lamp in the police station, and an early rest. My savior refuses any money. A firefly in the moonlight.

Last miles towards the border in the early morning, some trouble with the payment for the visa due to the old dollar pieces I'm carrying. 55 miles till Xam Nua, the first real town where I expect to get Laos money. The same crazy ups and downs as yesterday, with tired legs. At a cigarette break in the jungle, an old man on a bicycle hands me three potato like big white roots and shows me how to peel and eat them. The kids on the street would wave and scream "Sabaidee" now. Nice welcome! Same wooden pile houses as in Vietnam, but more deforested hills. Unlike 8 years ago, there is electricity everywhere on the road now. But still hardly any traffic. I manage to cycle only 34 miles to Vieng Xai, a small town with no ATM but guesthouses, that is famous for the cave systems in which the Laos Communists lived during the heavy bombings during the Vietnam war. Get a room in a wooden guesthouse on a lake, and coffee, food and beers on credit. Air, a 20 year old relative of the owners, talks good English and teaches me my first few words in Laos, gives me some advice. Manage to change my remaining Vietnam Dong into Kip, just enough to get a bus to Xam Nua on the next day. Need a break from cycling. When I arrive in Xam Nua both ATMs are out of service. It's Saturday, and all banks closed. I'm close to freak out, when a tourist on a bicycle passes by, and tells me about an Indian restaurant where I could possibly get my old dollars exchanged. He's cycling towards Phongsavan tomorrow, he says, and I wouldn't mind some company on my way. A few minutes later the ATM is working again, and I finally receive some KIPs, return back to Vieng Xai. The caves can only be visited with a guide, and I miss the afternoon tour. However, I get some information to read and have a nice walk between the nice limestone rocks. After diner with a nice American motorbike tourist, Air invites me for some barbecue with his friends. Nice moonlight walk, great barbeque and talks about freedom and money dependencies in modern Laos.

No matter how hard we tried, we don't manage to reach Nam Neun before sunset. Hitching with a manic racing guy in the back of a brand new Hilux pickup. Squealing tyres in the switchbacks. The two of us trying to survive, holding the bicycles thight. When our Formula 1 driver sets us of a a junction, there's a final 7 mile steep downhill ride at sunset. What a feeling! Nam Neun is a sort of disappointing prospering junction towns with little comfort and few smiles and phantasie prices for food. No one would speak English. Anyway – it's Fullmoon and we reached our first target.
On the following day we do something similar for the the remaining distance to Phongsavan, riding the last 30 miles of pretty flat in the burning midday sun and reaching Phongsavan more dead than alive...

Phongsavan is famous for the Plain of Jars, that is about 2000 year old jars made of single pieces of sandstone, some as tall as a human. Bomb craters from the secret war the stories of cruel times here, and numberless of the so-called UXOs, undetonated boms of all sizes, are still out everywhere in the rice paddies and woods, causing severe injuries and many deads still nowadays. We'd see them every once in a while a garden fences in the villages, and in Phongsavan we'd watch some documentary movies on them. Phongsavan is a prospering town too, but with a much better feeling, and many guesthouses and restaurants with much better price-quality ratio than those small junction towns we passed by.

Two more days to go towards Vang Vieng, cycling in the morning and hitching small trucks after lunchtime to avoid the burning sun. Breathtaking views again, endless chains of mountains, sea of clouds, stone-age villages with good vibes. Last day – 70 miles left to go towards Vang Vieng. Heavy rain at night and thick mist in the early morning hours. Paul is gonna wait for better weather he says. I'm eager to leave that "prospering" junction town we're at. 13 miles downhill, 2 miles uphill. Coffee break with a cute red cat on my lap. I spot two German trucks on the road. Big "Servus", nice talking, a swim in the public hot spring pond just beside the road. They'd give me a lift, I'm very happy about this since the skin on my bottom has already gone...

Well, the famous tubing - you'd get a lift few miles upstream, sit sort of helpless in shorts in the burning sun and wait for the river to take you down to town again. There is a section of wooden bars cramped closely to each other on both sides of the otherwise tranquil Song river with load music roaring from big speakers all day. Advertisements for cheap „buckets“, mud volleyball and these kind of activities. Later in town, you can watch bandaged and limping youngsters that survived the adventure. It's said that during rainy season when the river is more wild, some wouldn't return. And it is easy to understand why the locals don't mind – it's just so much money that is spend on alcohol every day...

The good thing with Vang Vieng is the beauty of the nature surrounding it,with less silly entertainment like kayaking, climbing, trekking... As well as good prices and the wide choice for food and accommodation. Finally I found quiet and peaceful moments in a cave and on top of a hill with no one there but me and my cycling mate.

Thakek is, according to Lonely Planet, a nice town on the Mekong with lots of caves and a remarkable National park neighboring it. I arrive after sunset, find me a little appealing place to stay for the same price as my hotel in Vang Vieng. I decide to skip the marvelous caves and limestone rocks and cycle towards Xeno instead, 65 miles down towards Pakse. Flat area, a long straight road without shadow, and only a few trucks and cars passing by while I'm sweating in the burning sun, fighting the headwinds and my laziness. When the legs refuse the pedaling, I hitch and a Thai pickup gives me a lift for the last 10 miles to Xeno. A bus bound for Pakse is supposed to leave there at 6PM. 130 miles to go - I might be there by 10 PM I hope. Spend a beautiful sunset with Tai Chi, and with some small kids eager to imitate. Good vibes in this town. The bus arrives and departs in time, yet takes a different road at the junction. Al right, detour via Savanaketh. It comes worse then, as the bus stops every once in a while for no obvious reason. Enough cigarette breaks anyway. When I wake up at 4, everyone is sleeping in the bus that is just parked at a gas station. A little later, the engine starts and we arrive in Pakse at dawn. That is, we spent the night just half an hour away from the destination...

In a guided tour with two Dutch travelers, an English lady and a Swiss I get to visit the Bolovan plateau some 2 miles east of Pakse. Hiking through its Coffee plantations, its rocky pine forests and waterfalls below in the jungle. Swimming in the electrifying and cold water of the ponds underneath the first fall, having a gorgeous picnic on the rocky riverbank of one of the rivers on top of a second waterfall with the best Lao food I've had so far. Wading across rivers, climbing up and down rather invisible trails. Sunset, a marvelous red glowing sky. What was supposed to be an easy hike for a few hours turned into quite a challenge now. Luckily, everyone has a torch. Still a good hour to sneak through the jungle. Leeches on the legs, snakes in the trees. Me (stupid as usual) in Flipflops. Guides seem to be confused and lead us around in big circles as it appears. Everyone is happy when we reach the village with the Songtheaw to bring us back to Pakse.

Next station is Champasak, an easy half days ride away from Pakse down the Mekong. Champasak is known for its ancient Wat Phu Khmer settlement and temple ruins that are certainly worth stopping over for a day on the way down to the 4000 Islands. It's a rather small town stretching along the quiet main road with a few neat resorts on the Mekong, a perfect place to chill-out.

By chance, I met a few girls that share the same idea – going down the Mekong by boat. For 20 USD each we get a 7 hours boat ride to Don Det in a decent Longtail boats with sunroof, curtains and rattan chairs. The river flows. Terrace plantations, small wooden huts and great trees with eroded roots on the sandy riverbanks. Sarah’s Ukulele plays “The ring of fire”, and makes me stay on the island for 10 splendid and peaceful days. Wonderful sunrises and sunsets, followed by moonset and shooting stars. Dreams become true...

An endless shadowless paved road with few settlements in the flat, hardly cultivated nor forested land. Sun is burning mad. A stopover at noon at a little shop with a very friendly family that invites me to lunch. I learn a first few phrases of Khmer since they speak Lao, and they even let me nap for half an hour on their wooden benches.

Sarah and I meet in Stung Treng, a neat town on the estuary of Sekong and Mekong. The following day, we buy a used mountain bike for 60 Dollar and prepare for our first ride together to Ratanakiri in Northeast Cambodia. Sarah manages the torture of the dirt road well, cycling approximately 30 miles in the heat and the dusty clouds of thundering by trucks and buses. Since there are no guesthouses until Banlung and there is no chance we can do the remaining 40 miles, we decide to hitch the remaining distance – taking it easy. Banlung is a small friendly town in the mountains, with beautiful waterfalls and a volcanic lake. We spend three nights in an Eco lodge in the jungle outside of town, roaming around by bicycle and feet through the forests, rubber tree plantations with black trunks, cashew trees and little villages. Shower underneath a waterfall, a red gloaming sunset on the volcanic lake. Splendid days and nights without electricity, cooking with the staff of the Eco lodge, playing the Ukulele and singing old songs from Johnny Cash, Lee Hazelwood and Terry Jack. Priceless...  When we arrive back in Stung Treng, Sarah rode already more than 60 miles, and she's eager to go on by bicycle. What a girl!

Koh Ker turned out to be the much nicer site of temple ruins on the way, with many temples scattered on a 8 miles circuit track in the woods. Piles of rubble between the still standing walls of the temples, giant trees taking over the crazy materialized dream of a single emperor who did not want to life in the Angkor area and decided to have his own capital build in just 20 years about 80 miles away instead. Rich carvings and ornaments on the sand stones, pieces of the construction look like petrified robot heads, unable to smile nor to scream. The spirit of the emperor seems to be all around us. Really really impressive! Only a few other tourists were there, and the neighboring village Soryong was very welcoming with great street food on the small market and a nice wooden guest house.

On the next day, we make our way further towards Siem Reap, reaching at the Beng Mealea temple site at lunch time. Still overwhelmed by yesterdays temple site plus little invited by the crazy prices of the tourist restaurants, we decide to skip the ruins and move on. A few miles further down the road we enjoy a tasty street food for a fifth of the prices of those restaurants before, plus the company of the smiling local kids. Just 30 miles to go from the junction town on the National Route 6 where we sleep that night, and an easy ride into Siem Reap on the following morning. We made it – yeeha!

The center of Siem Reap which feels like a different planet compared to any other place we've been to in Cambodia so far. Roaming around, we find some local shops with reasonable prices for food a few kilometers away the Dollar-priced restaurants on the Old Market and feel more comfortable.

With 3 respectively 7 day Angkor passes we start our mission to visit a few of the countless temple sites that are scattered around Siem Reap on our bicycles. The paved road through the woods around the temples North of Siem Reap is crowded by Tuktuks and buses, yet quite pleasant to ride with lots of shadow. Few more tourists bother to explore the area by bicycle. We start with the “Big Loop”, visit only a few of the 1000 year old complexes of temple ruins. We marvel upon both, the skillful and rich decorated walls and the sheer size of the complexes as well as the mighty trees dwelling on the walls, reaching for the blue sky as well as the architects of these temples did. Certainly, this is impressive. Nature has taken over what man thought would last forever. How small are we under the skies, beneath the many hundred year old treetops? In front of the main attractions are small restaurants, shops and all sorts of salesman and -children, repeating their kind of pitying sales mantras: “Hello you buy water from me?” “You buy my book please”. Nevertheless, the restaurant shops are good shelters for the burning sun during lunchtime, and usually have hammocks in the back for a nap. With our little Khmer bargaining skills we manage to get descent prices for our meals. Taking it easy, sparing the main sites (Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom) for a later visit, we head for a temple on a hill for sunset. With stream of other tourist we slowly wander uphill, to find that Pyramid-shaped building with its big steep stairs as crowded as a festival location. Nice sunset anyway, and a sort of street-fight ride back to town between the buses and motorbikes and tuktuks in the dark.

We reach the entry point just after sunset. Unsure where to sleep, we ask the last remaining restaurant lady. She wouldn't know, yet tells us about a German who's living nearby, points at a gate. A Wildlife Rescue Center it is. An English-speak local comes out of it, tells us the German isn't here and advices us to stay in the neighboring Police station, with is just a tiny thatched roof wood house. He manages all the communication with the police man, and after endless phone calls the deal is settled, we can stay overnight. A restaurant owner is called to cook us food. I can already feel where this leads us too – funny prices. 5 Dollars per meal – that's even more than in Siem Reaps real restaurants, and 3 Dollars for a bottle of beer which Sarah and I definitely need now. While having Diner, a dozen policeman roll in with cars and pickup trucks. Some wearing machine guns, and everyone is drinking. The guys remain outside of the light, curiously muster Sarah and me. That doesn't feel well at all. After a while, the boss starts to tell us we were to be carried to the main police station, since we were not allowed to stay here. We seem to be in the wrong movie now, try to discuss the matter. Finally, we are allowed to start another attempt to reach the people in the Wildlife Center to ask permission to stay there. Big German Shepard dogs bark in the dark. Luckily, someone comes out, hears our story and allows us to stay. The people in the center have had a few incidents with these police men already. Lucky lucky - happy end to something that has never happened to me before, and that could have turned out really odd.

On the following day, we thank our hosts and head back towards Siem Reap, visit the well reconstructed and nearby temple site of Bantay Srei with its beautiful carvings and sculptures on the way, plus a few less frequented sites in the main Angkor Area. Sarah plays Ukulele in the ruins for sunset. "Image All The People Living Live in Peace" - Happy End!

Sarah and I escape Seam Reap by boat towards Battambang on an 8-hour cruise over the biggest lake in Cambodia, into the swamps with floating villages, then up a crazy winding, narrow river with very poor looking huts on its sides. No roads or cars for hours and hours. Little children wave from the houses, man in small boats throwing their fishing nets. We spoil ourselves with a Sarah plays the Ukulele and heads back (by bus) to Siam Reap for her new duties on the following day. “Bye bye love, bye bye happiness” a sad voice in my head sings. I have to be out of Cambodia in a few days because of my expiring visa. I want to spend a few days on the shores of East Thailand and hope for good opportunities for some NGO work in Cambodia in the near future.

I spend two more days in Battambang, writing articles, emails and finally reading the famous “First they killed my father” book – the incredible story of the Khmer Rouge time from the perspective of a 5 year old girl. After reading the book, I see Cambodia with different eyes...
Looking for information about the road through the Cardamom Mountains to Ko Kong, I get almost no encouraging information anywhere I ask in Battambang. So I cancel this adventure and decide to enter Thailand from Pailin, with a little “one-day” detour in the mountains to the Maddox-Julie-Pitt Nature Reserve project and its waterfalls and jungles. Awesome cycling on partly paved and partly crazy dirt roads. Badly deforested mountains and dry farm land as far as the eye can see. I arrive at the spot in the late afternoon. What was said to be 70 kilometers pretty much became 100. What was said to be a friendly accommodation option turned out to be a weird place, anything but welcoming visitors. However, the little waterfall with its pool under the mighty rocks was worth the trip, and luckily the local doctor managed to find me a homestay with his friends. A night in the hammock mounted under the stilt house. Next day I move on to Pailin, a former Gambling town and gem center of Cambodia, stronghold of the Khmer Rouge for decades. Another nice jungle trek in the afternoon, another swim in a pool of a small waterfall. On the next day, I leave for Thailand, just 20 kilometers away from Pailin. No odd stamp fees on the border. Bye for now Cambodia, hello again Thailand! Great paved roads with wide shoulders for cyclists, lots of trees providing shadow. It looks so different to the last few days cycling in Cambodia! Much more and faster traffic - new cars instead of the slow heavily loaded motor carts and old squeaky pickups trucks. No more waving kids on the side of the roads either, yet a few smiling elderly people and a some waving drivers. Certainly, Thailand is much richer, much more developed and sophisticated in the Western meaning than Laos or Cambodia are. Quick 70 kilometers down South to Chantaburi, a big gemstone center city. I'm tired, but tomorrow I'll be on the beach, after 10 weeks cycling. Yeeha!

A group of Thai cyclists parks beside my bike at a resting place. They are from Rayong, heading for Koh Chang too. Two days to ride there, one night stay and then two days cycling back, that's their plan. Tough lads. We ride together to the ferry, crossing a few steep hills. Rather exhausted I arrive at the port. Or were my legs just too sore? The ferry goes a few minutes later, and my Thai cyclists give me some advice about the island. The famous beaches are on the West Coast, with really steep hills to climb in between. We can see the 700 metres high mountains already from the ferry, nice outlook. Alright – too much for me today – I just make it to village in the North on the first day. Few tourists here, good quality guesthouses for reasonable prices, a waterfall to visit yet unfortunately no beach really nearby.

Malena, my friend from Sweden wrote she will come to Bang Bao, a fishing town in the Southwest. Perfect, so I'll go there too. Haven't seen her in more than a year – that would be nice. The hills on the way are killers, to steep to cycle, at least with the luggage on the bike. I end up pushing the bike uphill through the nice jungle. Blood, sweat and tears, once again. The downhill parts are thrilling. Those famous beaches – "White Sand Beach", "Lonely Beach" etc. - you can barely see them from the road. Concrete walls and bungalows and hotels and heaps of fancy restaurants on the side of the road block the sight. Tourist tractor beam, here we go again.

Bang Bao is different, feels more like a local village in a beautiful bay, surrounded by wild forested hills. There are a few inexpensive down-to-earth restaurants and shops before the expensive seafood restaurants on the quai. Bungalow resorts on the beaches are rather expensive, anyhow... The wooden pier with two huts on a beach is inviting me for Tai Chi and a morning swim.

Malena finds my sipping coffee on the tourist pier – happy day.

We rent a motorbike on the next day, spend a splendid time on a small beach for ourselves, visit a wonderful waterfall in the jungle and oops – my camera drops off from the backpack into the pool underneath. I rescue it, and after a couple of days it is even working again. We finish our trip watching a marvelous sunset from a hill, above some small islands. An almost full moon between the horns of a buffalo skull. Incredible time...

After Malena has left Koh Chang, I move to the Hippi Huts, an inexpensive basic style bungalow resorts run by a Thai Rasta. Good vibes here, and few more great days relaxing, reading, studying, chating with Anton, a Russian cyclists.

Getting closer to the end of my 14-days stay allowance, I pack and head back to Cambodia, intending to go on via Ko Kong towards Shianoukville. Ken, the Thai cyclist had recommended a bicycle shop in Trat, that would possible repair the broken front suspension. Getting there, I learn they would have to order the pieces which takes at least a week. Well then, at least I get new front bearings and a new chain. 50 USD, not really a special offer. On the way out I spend another splendid two-day stopover on Had Chuen, a bungalow resort on a beach with very few tourists but really friendly staff close to Ban Mai Rut. Bernard, a Swiss-French cyclist is there, gives me some information on the road to Shianoukville and being a real Physiotherapist, treats my hurting wrist. Good times, good by Thailand!

First stop in Koh Kong, a fairly nice town on a big river, close to the Sea. As the starting point for the Koh Kong island tours, there are a few tourists around, and the there is a good choice of hotels and Western style and prices restaurants. The barber is painful after almost 4 weeks not shaving. He's not using foam, and is very greedy with the cold water. Just spent one night in Koh Kong, and make my way towards Shianoukville on the fairly new road through the mountains and the well preserved forests. On the side of the road, there are funny elephant warning signs every once in a while, yet no elephant to see. From the top of some passes there are nice views of untouched forest covering soft hills and valleys until the horizon. Big rivers run from the mountains in the north to the Sea in the south. Big bridges cross them, looking like from a different world compared to the small shops and wooden houses beside. There are only few villages, so Bernards information about places to stay and eat and the long distances in between was indeed very helpful. The first night I stay in Trapang Rung in a nice homestay near a river, organized by the local Eco-tourism agency. Big fires in the woods spill smoke and burned palm leave parts in the air. I get no explanation for this fire. On the next day just after the first 40 kilometers in the mountains I arrive in Andoung Toek, stop at a little coffee shop and get into talk with a man that introduces himself as teacher at the school on the other side of the street. The more we talk, the more curious I get about his project here. Coming from a town from the other side of the Cardamom Mountains and having worked for a few big NGOs before, he and his colleague want to help the villagers with education in English and organic farming, introduce bio-gas installations to reduce the demand for firewood and electricity and set up eco-tourism here to gain additional income for the villagers. As well, they are curious about my thoughts to reduce the strong money dependency of the villagers. They would be happy if I would come again and help them teaching English for a while. We spent hours talking over lunchtime. We exchange contact details for further discussions, and I take off for the next 45 kilometers to Sre Ambel, a nice town on a river with two scum guesthouses beside each other.

One more day to go to Shianoukville, a 100 kilometers with aching knees and a wound bum on a narrow road with mental truck and bus drivers, and the last 16 kilometers of ups and downs almost kill me. I decide to take the first guesthouse in town rather than exploring the beaches for tonight. 3 months, 3000 kilometers. Time to rest.

Shianoukville is a prospering Cambodian city, due to both the big deep sea harbor and the beaches that attract lots of foreign tourists. Some of them would come for a few party days on the rather crowded and expensive Occheuteal Beach with all the hotels, some move on to the more remote and quiet Otres beach and the bungalow resorts. Others would stay on Victory hill, known for affordable long term stay guesthouses and resorts and those certain girls in the bars at night. I stayed everywhere in these days, meeting and talking with all sorts of tourists, those who came and got stuck, those rushing through all the SEA countries in a few weeks and those elderly big European man that live their lifes as comfortable as possible here with cheap accommodation, drinks, girls and food. Mad world, mad world!

Sarah invites me to spend some time with her in Siem Reap in her apartment outside town. Two days cycling and hitchhiking from Andoung Toek and then I'm there, happy to be back with her, happy to rest, happy to have a kitchen in a really comfortable place. A good opportunity to to focus on my studies, to rest the legs and retreat from that negative mindset that piled up in my head. Yet I can't get over it, and after three weeks it is time to leave for me.

Having more than two weeks time until I can enter Vietnam and no interest in traveling around Cambodia anymore, I'm happy to enter the Hariharalaya Yoga Center nearby Siem Reap. 9 days of great vegan food, home-made bread, intense Yoga sessions in the morning, Meditation at sunset and reading. Slowly I'm becoming aware of what happened to me, what foolish games my mind started to play in the past months – with a mind always judging and complaining about the situation, lecturing the people around me – that's certainly not the way to happiness nor inner peace... Yet, apparently those mind patterns kept coming up in my mind, on and on. Time for a change, for a reprogramming of the firmware. And the body feels much better without coffee and the daily Yoga exercises instead.

Heading for Dalat in the mountains to meet my Swiss friend Urs. I'm on the bike again, Dalat is located 300km North of HCM. Almost 100km on the first day in fairly heavy traffic and endless settlements along the road, and another 80 on the second, with the first real mountain ascends since months. Beautiful forests, and pouring rain. At the outskirts of Bao Loc, there is a nice hotel with fancy big rooms in 60/70 ties style, 6 USD including hot shower and WiFi. What a bless after todays ride!

New day – same scenario – rain. After a few miles I give up cycling, decide hitch towards Dalat. 10 USD damage for 90 kilometers for a maniac ride in an overcrowded transporter, banging through villages and coffee plantations in blossom. One more long uphill run through pine forests, then we reach Dalat, a vast city spread over small hills and valleys just before noon.

My friends Urs arrives a little later, and we find us a place to stay in the Peace Hotel, as well as another mate to chatter with at the Peace Bar. Bat is his his name, he's from Australia, always good for a fun chat. A bright full moon at night, we roam around restaurants and bars. Incredibly touching Vietnamese live singing and Guitar playing at the Easy Rider bar, where one can arrange round trips with local motorcyclists. Hallelujah! For two days we go around the buzzing town on rented motorbikes, get lost, climb the Lam Bien mountain, visit some Japanese gardens and shower under the stunning Elephant Waterfall about 30km outside Dalat. We were really lucky with the weather – always miss the rain showers :-)

New day – same scenario – rain. After a few miles I give up cycling, decide hitch towards Dalat. 10 USD damage for 90 kilometers for a maniac ride in an overcrowded transporter, banging through villages and coffee plantations in blossom. One more long uphill run through pine forests, then we reach Dalat, a vast city spread over small hills and valleys just before noon.

Mui Ne used to be a minor fisher town until a solar eclipse a decade ago brought the tourist boom to the peninsula. Nowadays a long strip of resorts, restaurants and bars along the shore indicates good tourist business. For me, it feels as little appealing as the tourist beaches on Koh Chang or Shianoukville, yet it was a great time. I spoiled myself with a nice beachfront bungalow with lousy breakfast for 20 USD, and spend my days with Yoga on the beach, beers and fun Urs and Bat, and finally dancing again to Iggy Pop, Doors and Prodigy.

Activities like Jeep cruising in the Red and White Dunes are offered, which I don't appreciate for its ecological impact. Furthermore, Kite- and Wind Surfing schools are in place, and the nearby Cham temple ruin is a great spot for sunset.

On the next day, we ride randomly to the shore again, find a small ferry that brings us over the river to the next southern island in the Delta. Driven by compass directions and the low detail South-East-Asia map, we cruise small roads that soon turn into elevated unpaved trails between flooded tree plantations and ponds, crossing irrigation creeks on funny little bridges and finally reach a dead end – a ruin on the lonesome shore. A local comes by on his motorbike, talks a lot that we don't understand and asks us to follow. He shows us his being-build temple a few miles away on the shore, still in the swamps. A giant cargo ship crosses our views. Strange, surreal. Finding our way back, heading west to find a more suitable ferry to bring us more south – we ask a young lady at a a gas station. She will show us the way, she says, starts her motorbike and leads us through a clutter of narrow paved trails under the trees, with her mother and her baby daughter on her bike. Feels like riding through Garden Eden. We get our small motorboat ferry, no chance we would have found that port on our own! The skipper of the following ferry helps us maneuvering our scooters over the wobbly planks on his boat, drives us to the next island and almost dumps our bikes into the mud on the attempt to unload them. Meanwhile a 50 year old lady cannot help grabbing my bum. What a trip! We spend the night in Ben Tre, eventually get a better map for 50 Cents in a book shop.

On the following day, we stick to our strategy of random cruising beside the main roads, seeking a quite place in Garden Eden. On the western tip of the island north of Vinh Long, we spot the first tourist boat and few kilometers later, accidentally pass by a tourist information and home stay place. Down-to-Earth style has its price here, yet we don't mind – that's pretty much what we were looking for. A visit to the market, a Westerner on a motorbike stops by, asks us what we are up to. I'm looking for a fruit shake, I admit, and he invites the two of us into his home, a few kilometers away, in the middle of the green watery scenery. His name is Russon from Canada, he has been living here since 13 years and running fruit trading. And besides, he runs a home stay that is as much as not at all advertised. His wife spoils us with tasty shakes, beers and coffee with Baileys. What a treatment! Asking what we own him, he declines smilingly: “You just made my day”.

Time to head back via My Tho, some last miles in the low noise Garden Eden, some more miles along on really busy roads, wishing me Earplugs again. One more day back to Ho Chi Minh, one more day on side tracks, arriving at the right ferry ports rather accidentally. What a flow, what a feeling here in the Mekong Delta! Reaching ho Chi Minh City, we stop at an old nice temple, thanking the spirits of the Mekong for a great trip. Luckily, my rattling red scooter survived the slow pace trip without a single failure :-)

Travelers we talked to often disliked the sometimes expensive organized Mekong Exploration tours. So to say, roaming around on rented scooters was the greatest thing we could do...

In the distance, I can see the skyline of Surfers Paradise, a set of skyscrapers along the endless beaches. They are mainly hotels for the booming tourism, in an area that had little significance before surfing and beach holidays became popular a few decades ago. Now, Gold Coast is a city, with Surfers Paradise as its center, with lots of bars and night clubs including a heavy drinking and drug scene, as I'm told. Heaps of air brushed camper cars are parked everywhere - yeah - this is the Australian Dream of crossing the vast country on the own (or rather rented) 4 wheels :-)

I can stay in Pauls apartment for the first couple of days, and he shows me a bit around on the pushbikes. Near his home, there is already the first pretty much pristine forest, directly on a rocky hill over the Pacific, called Burleigh Heights. Big tame sort of turkeys walk everywhere, and hundreds and hundreds of pretty red, blue and white feathered birds sing their deafening song in the nearby park at sunset.

One day, we visit the Springbrook National Park. After a dozen kilometers, we have a second breakfast, stock up food for the ride and leave the populated area behind us. 24 kilometers on a small road winding up through beautiful rain forest. Giant ferns, Gum trees and small palms and hundreds of other plants create an impenetrable thicket, sometimes allowing a nice view down to the Pacific coast line. We visit a waterfall viewpoint at lunchtime, when it starts to rain. We carry on anyway, cycling to the next picnic area, hiking on small and steep trails for two or three hours down and up the valley again. The rain just amplifies the vivid green of the untouched forests, the moss on the giant trunks and rocks. Smaller waterfalls every now and then. The big  Twin Falls offer a pool for a really refreshing bath. Never mind the rain, the spirits around here are incredible. Multidimensional impressions of nature, impossible to rehash on photographs. On and on we walk, eventually returning to our bicycles. Still raining gently, and 800 elevation meters to burn back to Gold Coast, spotting a few of these small and shy rainforest kangaroos on the way down.

We spend some time at picnic areas, seeing incredible giant Antarctic beech communities covered in thick green moss, watching the giant caldera with its fertile bottom and Mount Warning in the middle - impressive. Then we go for a hike out to the Pinnacle Lookout, a rocky needle sticking out of the caldera, allowing a  true 360 degree panoramic view. No one out here, except for a bare-feet Aussie Rasta. No one out here at all in the thick rain forest, in this wide National Park. We're off the beaten track. And the weather is with us, blue sky for a splendid view! The trunks of the grass trees and shrubs are black reminders of the last bush fires here, apparently caused by some fools cigarette bud.

A few hours later, we leave the caldera, drive down towards Nimbin, a small town nearby Lismore that became sort of a Hippie Mekka after it hosted the Aquarius Festival back in 1973. Nowadays, it is a backpacker destination with pot museums, a few restaurants and colourful painted old shop buildings along the main road. Backpackers from Byron Bay are carried here for day trips to get their joints on the streets from stoned Aborigines. Paul, little proud of this part of Australia takes of to meet his parents near Byron Bay, and I stay for a bit with my bike and my tent on the camp ground, chatting to a nice Swiss couple with a descent adventure setup – a Toyota Landcruiser with a boat and heaps of equipment on the trailer.

Nights are rather cold for my summer equipment, after two days I cycle out of Nimbin with a severe cold. Hilly road towards Nimbin, after just 25 kilometres I'm exhausted, spend a few hours on the “Channon Arts Market”. The smell of Indian incense, the colours of Southeast-Asian cloth stores, and the sound of a live rock band add perfectly to the scenario. Most guests are dressed as they were on the way to Woodstock, and make me feel a bit funny in my cycling gear. Laying flat on the grass, I come to talk with guys that happen to be musicians of a band called “Holy Cow”. We chatter over topics like the root cause that made Germany start up WWI and WWII for a while, about their music and their next gig tonight in Byron Bay. If I wanted to go with them to Byron Bay by car? Yes, sure – for today I'm not able to ride any more anyway. As we cruise over the small roads, I realize what “mission impossible” this would have been for me – no shops nor guest houses on the road, but hills after hills until Byron Bay. 70 kilometres good work for a fit guy with enough water and food, certainly to much for me today.

Spend a night in a 6 bed dorm in the Arts Factory in Nimbin, with some funny backpacker fools insisting to invite me for drinking games just after I fell asleep. Next day I'm back in my tent, definitely the better air in there, and no fools but me. For the next few days, I enjoy some nice company, live a healthy life and cure my cold with hot Chili con Carne, and heaps of Vitamin tablets and tea and honey. Paul takes me and the bicycle back to his home in Gold Coast.

Generally speaking, the Arts Factory is an interesting spot to stay in Byron Bay, with free daily Yoga classes, plus Didgeredoo and Djembee workshops. In the beautiful jungle like garden a camp ground is provided, as well as kitchen facilities. Some guitar players would play some songs. Byron Bay itself has transformed from a sleepy whaling village to a surfers and backpackers destination in less than 20 years, resulting in the usual side effects – high prices, begging etc. A number of nice back beaches around Byron Bay are little frequented and surrounded by nice Eucaluptus forests for hiking. Beside that the Lighthouse and the most Eastern point of Australian mainland (Cape Byron) are worth a visit. The Hinterland with its rainforests is not far away either.

We depart O Reilly's on a true 4WD road, heading down West. A place called Lost World Valley appears under thick black clouds in the remaining daylight. We move on, further West. Eventually, we find an empty picnic area nearby Rathdowney, put up the tent and enjoy the Chili at the campfire. A bright moon renders the lean trunks of the tall Eucalyptus trees around us with silver glow in that night.

Next station on our tour is the Mount Barney National Park, somewhat known for a stunning gorge called Lower Portal. We arrive early, have the entrance to the gorge for ourselves after a good hike. We are out of the rainforests, Eucalyptus trees, grass trees and shrubs dominate the scene. A quick swim upstream the cold creek through the pools formed into the rocky creek bed, and I see the full scale of the gorge. The beauty of the place is unreal, impossible to describe the spirit with words or camera pictures. As well the knowledge of Paul, my mate who is kind enough to show me sacred places like this. If I wanted to do something like that back home in Germany, I'd have to think very hard where to go...

We move on to the Girraween National Park, an area of rather dry Eucalyptus forests and numerous more or less giant granite rock formations in Northern Queensland Tableland, a hilly plain more than 1000 meters above sea level. The campground is fairly occupied due to the upcoming Easter weekend, mainly by Australian campers. 6$ per night per person, including hot shower facilities – great offer! Never mind the lack of electricity. Nearby the campground, just a few kilometers away, are giant granite rock formations to hike and climb, great lookouts and meditation places for sunrise and sunset, when there are hardly any other people up there. The Eucalyptus woods are full of round shaped granite boulders – this must be heaven for climbers, yet none are to see. Behind the campground, the Bold Rock River runs in his solid granite bed, with little gorges being cut into the stone in tens of thousands of years time. A magic white glow emits from the riverbed at nighttime under the full moon shining on it. It is easy to imagine what we did there for the next 4 days – hiking, swimming, breathing. One day we take the pushbikes for a descent ride around Tenterfield, where the open farmlands expose much more of the impressive granite hills, and have a look at the nearby Boonoo Boonoo Waterfalls and the Bold Rock National Park, home of the largest solitary rock in the Southern Hemisphere. Reaching the summit of Bold Rock, we are on our own again, spoiled with a stunning view and a marvelous sunset. Wet clouds surround us from behind, seemingly being soaked into the red glowing sky in the West.

Despite of the long Easter weekend almost no one hangs out on the campground. After gloaming sunset, we stay on Checks Lookout, watching the sky to darken with excellent views of the Southern cross, a sparkling Milky Way and some shooting stars before the moon rises in the East and brightens the cold nights. Burn my remaining tobacco in the campfire. Smoked more than enough. I'm back on Checks Lookout for a marvelous sunrise. That feels quite different without fags. And eventually, I get to see one of the rare Lyrebirds!

The nearby New England National Park is stunning, providing awesome lookouts from the tablelands down to the hilly area and the Pacific coast. On the Southern side of the rocky cliffs where the sun never shines, we see the Antarctic Beeches again with their thick moss covered trunks and branches in the thick rainforest. And a black snake with a red belly beside the trail, apparently one of the most poisonous snakes on Earth. Where's the snakes head, and how's that fool walking in the jungle with flipflops and short trousers again?

On the way back to the coast, we stop one last time for a little walk in the rainforest, or rather for a viewpoint on the forests canopy level in Dorrigo National Park. One more time breathing the odor of the jungle and its incredible green and vivid thickness.

Back to the coast, back to traffic lights and humans, back to “Wicked” camper cars. We drive until Lennox Head, some 20 kilometers South of Byron Bay and have a good swim in a fresh water lake beside the beach. Paul is tired of driving all day and just wants to get home today. I have just two more nights until my flight back to Kuala Lumpur, and decide to cycle back to Gold Coast, just for the sake of cycling a last 100k's for this journey, and breathing Australia for a bit more. Arriving in Byron Bay during the Blues festival without pre-booking is kind of hopeless. Even the campgrounds (50 Dollar a Night for a little tent!) were booked out, yet I can find me a quiet spot an a commercial area outside Byron Bay for free, with heaps of mosquito.

Take off early on the next morning, even before sunrise. Dark clouds from the shore, yet luckily I get to Gold Coast with one shower only. Last night out in Broad Beach - Paul and me have Japanese and Indian diner and beers at a live gig in a bar. "Let me go on... like a blister in the sun..."

Yeeha! Big big thanks to Paul for inviting me, for accomodating me and showing me the beauty of Australia's National Parks off the beaten track.