hippy colonies & sundry

So all's chilled at the Colony.

As we arrived, after seeing the two shagging warthogs in the middle of the street, we were met by the eccentric dude who owns the place.

The rules were laid out. We eat with everyone for lunch and dinner and we drink freshly squeezed lemon juice when it is served to us.

"Are there snakes here?" (Well, it is the lushest, thickest jungle I have found myself in, let's be honest.)

"Yes there are."

So for the last four days, we've been lazing around, pissing lemon juice, tanning our white hides, swimming, and eating traditional Vietnamese food.

Basically, I'm crap with chop sticks. Sure, you say. Aren't all Westerners. Look, if I don't ask for a fork, I'll spill fried rice and noodles all around me, and it's messy.
But there are no forks at Jungle Beach. Either you chop stick it the fuck out, or starve.
I can now use chopsticks rather nicely. All I do is scoop. You take the bowl of Rice Dog Fuc Chong right up to your face and scoop it in.

Frankly, it's wonderful. We started to get excited for our three-times-daily portion of rice. This is Survivor then.

Rice with something. Each meal. What will the something be?

The chef's a scream. She runs around the table going., "Beer?" If no one answers, she'll raise her voice slightly and say, " Beer?!" If no one answers, she'll pull the throttle back on her vocal chords and scream, "BEER?!? WHO WONT BEER?!"

And after each portion of rice, she'll come round with a vat of the stuff for seconds. "More lye?"

"No more rice thanks."

"MORE LYE?!!!"

"Well sure."

This place is filled with travellers who wear hemp trousers and Jesus Christ shirts. (The ones with the strings at the top). Hippies who have lost all concept of time and space.

The Brit and I had to take stock a few times, just to figure out which day we had to leave.
We were literally forced to unwind, which was the general idea.

We consumed two books in 5 days. Dude. The last time I managed to read, nevermind finish a full book was in, like, 2007.

At night, after three courses of rice, we head to the beach, which is two miles of nothingness, and make a bonfire.

This was my favourite part of each day. We'd buy some cheap and hazardous Viet-rum (which looks, smells and tastes suspiciously like petrol), and sit in a circle, literally singing the likes of Kum Ba Yah with everyone else.

Someone would do those fire thingies (fire poi I think it's called), and we'd watch the stars and tell stories.

We met a few interesting Americans, some who actually live in Vietnam and teach English.
One of the days, we wandered up into the jungle. A scythe and snake protective armour would've been nice, but what the hey. We climbed through the jungle and stumbled upon this incredible waterfall. The water was cold, but because we'd made it that far, we made ourselves swim.

We met a group of Vietnamese people on the way up who were pissed out of their heads, celebrating Tet. They offered us beers and then asked Brit if they could marry me and they 'share wives.'

Novel, but not keen.

Another day, we walked about 3 miles towards the nearest village. I don't think people there have seen many Westerners. They stared to the point where it was a bit unnerving. It was filled with fishermen and their families.

Am suitably relaxed - so relaxed we felt compelled to head on in case we got lost in time and space and never left. Like the Canadian owner, who hasn't left for 12 years.