Stairs seemed to have figured significantly in our day. We solemnly and silently climbed a red carpeted set of stairs, two by two, at the end of a kilometre long queue (our guide did manage to fast track us through the majority of the kilometre though) into the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh. The guards in white with their voiceless instructions and austere demeanours, and the thick air of reverence from the Vietnamese people made it a disquietening and alien experience, but fascinating at the same time. Then there was a bannister-less set of skinny steps into a traditional stilt house that had my nerves jangling already before the terrifying walk over bamboo floors in the house itself. I cannot believe thin bamboo layers on thin bamboo poles can hold my weight, and I walked crab-like across the floor you can sort of see, with all the light coming through it, in the picture there. Despite that episode I joyfully yes-ed the idea of climbing onto the terrace of a communal hut, about five meters off the ground, on what was effectively steps carved into a tree trunk and positioned against the terrace as an eighty-six degree angle. It seemed like a good idea until you stood on the edge to come down again and realised how high five meteres off the ground is. It was a full, full day. My brain has been spueezed (as I saw orange juice described on a menu board today) to bursting with information. Tomorrow we head out to Halong Bay. I am guessing the Internet may not be an option so if you don't hear from me, I will be back with my boring styling and my exciting holiday imminently.
Who wore it better? Linky, but not necessarily stylishly so, today with: