Uganda-Philippines-Vietnam

A sharwama burger with fries, please. Clearly an international hub with all cultures equally represented, which is clearly seen when it comes to queuing. That concept seems to be completely lost on some people ... I don't know if that is a positive thing.

On a different, and slightly more relevant note, my power supply is dead. And this "international" airport doesn't have a single electronics store.

Not entirely sure what to think about this first stop on the trip - split between panic and fuck-it-ness :)

It's way past bedtime and we have another 4 hours before our next plane.

I have successfully spliced the broken coord of my power supply and attemptted to nap sitting up. Hoping to find new power supply, when we are allowed to check-in.

As we got closer to Uganda the landscape below us got increasingly green. I am guessing Lake Victoria is the difference, but what do I know. The rain season just ended and you can tell.

We are now filling out forms to enter Uganda. It is relatively simple, just the usual questions, like where have you been, where are you staying, are you sick. The visa application is as simple as bringing USD 50 - no further questions asked.

We were picked up by Patrick in the airport and after about an hours drive through tight traffic we arrived at Serena Hotel in Kampala, where Patrick is attending a charity concert. This is likely one of the most exclusive hotels in Kampala - a staggering difference from the street outside the gates. Half asleep, we were hanging out in the bar for a few hours, chit-chatting with some locals, before getting on our way again.

We have now arrived at Jasper Aligawesas house. This is home for the next 2 and a half weeks.

We are getting late night rolexes and kicommandos (pronounced chi-commando) on Tank Hill Road. Rolexes are a rolled up chapati with a two fried egg omlette, a few slices of tomato and cabbage. Kicommandos are chapati and beans, possibly fried egg - to provide a fully nutritious whole day meal. I dig the rolexes. They are freshly made on the charcoal hotplate while you wait. It goes at about 1-2000 shillings - less than $1.

The kicommandos and rolexes are the poor mans food, but it tastes absolutely delicious. It is also considered unsuited for us, as we shouldn't be eating "garbage".

We just paid a short visit to Julia's family to drop off the kids, before heading to an engagement party.

I was fortunate enough to be offered a local delicacy - fried grasshoppers. And when in Rome ...

It's not bad - it's crispy. Just close your eyes and think of ... grasshoppers.

Today we went to a wedding introduction - a sort of traditional Ugandan engagement party. This is when the family of the bride officially accepts the proposal and receives the dowry. It's quite a party, spanning almost an entire day, including as many guests as you can possibly afford to invite. Lots of dressing up in your finest traditional outfit (me included), dancing and eating and more dancing (no, not me included - hell has yet to experience its first days of freezing).

Today dowry comes in all kinds of flavors, ranging from bare necessities like 50 kg bags of rise, a leg of a cow, crates and more crates of sodas to the more outrageous showoffs like cars, houses and what have you. Only the brides family receives dowry. The introduction we went to today was not an ordinary one, as it was done for the maid of the house. These gestures are rarely seen here, where the big-fish-eat-little-fish mentality dominates.

I thank my Ugandan friends for allowing me to participate in this event.

The pubic market in Kampala center offers anything you can imagine. Fresh fruit, vegetables and spices. Chickens and grasshoppers are being plucked as we pass by. Pots and pans, pipes and tools. Suits and dresses.

The men are playing an intense set of Ludo in one corner of the market, the young boys are offering their services as bag carriers and the women are handling the food.

It is chaotic and inspiring. Makes me want to cook something.

Tonight we went to the Speke Hotel for dinner. Speke Hotel is built in the 1920s and named after the founder of Uganda, John Hanning Speke. Ironically this fancy hotspot only offers european food.

At one point Moses Kiwe Sebunya, the Ugandan Ambassador of Tunesia came to our table to say hi to Jasper. It is no understatement to say that Jasper knows everyone and is shown a lot of respect everywhere we go with him. I was introduced and kindly lectured a bit about how to approach investment in Uganda - basically referring to EU or UN funding as the only way to go. I didn't tell him anything about me or my plan, aside from my Danish origin.

Just finished a meeting with Gashaija Vernant at Speke Hotel. Vernant is a former High Commisioner of Health in Uganda and Presidental Advisor on Engineering. Currently he is not involved with the govenment but he is clearly very well connected. After briefly telling him about our plan, he immidiately picked up his phone and arranged a meeting with the Senior Presidential Advisor on Techology - so we are having a casual meeting with him tomorrow at a technology conference.

Vernant is currently working on a street light project in Entebbe. One of the problems with street lighting here, is that people steal the lightheads, and I haven't seen a single working street light in Uganda so far, though lightpoles are a frequent sight. He has developed a system, where the bulb enclosure blows up, if removed, making it pointless to attempt to steal them. Obviously the system is solarbased, with a light sensor automatically turning the light on when the daylight dwindles. He is working on an local advertisement plan for financing the project. Vernant is primarily doing this project, because he wants his own street to be lit at night.

Returning from Entebbe, after eating lunch with Presential Advisor on Technology, Richadt Tushemereirwe, presenting my idea. Seriously, it is nerve wrecking going to a meeting like this. But also fun and surely a rich learning experience - my philosophy in this area is: If nothing else, at least it will be a hell of a story.

However, the meeting went well. He understood the concept and wanted more information, which will first have to be collected and prepared. He had some ideas on how to proceed and who to talk to, among others the Executive Director of NITA, which we already have a meeting with on Monday.

The adventure continues ...

Except for a some hours during the night, we still don't have any power.

It's hot, it is kinda quiet, except for the confused rooster and the occasional generator. Thomas and I are just hanging out at the house today.

Thomas brought back local cigarettes yesterday and they where strong as hell. I slept terrible all night, coughing up tar slimeballs without end. Today I am off cigarettes and on yoga and water.

We are discussing where to go and what to do for Christmas - we need to get to the countryside, preferably a national park.

We walked down the street to explore the local neighborhood tonight. A couple of 100rd meters down our street, it intersects with Gaba Road. About 20-30 small shops and bars are surrounding the intersection, offering everything from meat and haircuts to used electronics from Norway. There is also a supermarket, where you can get your original Danish Faxe beer, if you like.

At nighttime the bars shows football, and the street food stands buzz with hungry customers.

Tonight we found soya fast food, a small Ethiopian restaurant run by two refugee girls, from Ethiopia. This isn't your average European restaurant. More literally it is a door in the wall, but the girls made an effort to go far with very limited resources. There is a good chance I am the first mzungu to eat there.

Halfway through the preparation of our meal, the power left the whole square in darkness. Lack of power didn't slow down the serving of our meal, and eating this foreign dish, lit only by a flickering candle, in wild every day reality of Uganda, only added to the enjoyment of what turned out to be a heavenly meal. Total cost for 2 people, including beers: 20.000 UGS (us$ 8).

Venturing out at night might seem dangerous, but it feels completely safe. Obviously going on foot is very different than going by car, and you have to be a bit more careful. I typically don't bring my phone and only enough cash to spend. No fancy clothes. Be on my best behavior, remembering I am the guest. Don't be a fucking tourist.

Everyone is friendly and no one is bothering us for money - in case you were wondering.

This morning at 9 (be there on time), we were supposed to have a meeting with the Executive Director of National Information and Technology Authority (NITA).

A meeting at 9 seems somewhat unlikely in Uganda in the first place, and after waiting for about 45 minutes, we were finally informed that the director was at a meeting in the ministry. We had to make a new appointment, but at this point we've had enough of meetings. So we'll have to get back to them on that.

I have learned a lot from all the meetings so far. Hope lives right below the complete despair, well disguised as acceptance. We have been relatively well received, but reality demands a short term answer to the all apparent question: What is in it for me?

Enjoying the views of the rich and privileged.

I had handed over my laundry to the laundry shop at the intersection last week. I had to bargain for the price on every piece of clothing, just because he was smiling too much every time he said a price. The laundry guy didn't have any receipts, so we just shook hands on it and agreed to payment on pickup - I left feeling that was a good thing, since at least then I didn't loose both clothes and money. One never knows with new laundry service providers.

Just now, 5 days later, I picked up a perfectly wrapped package of clean, neatly folded clothes and tipped them well.

This morning the sky opened and caused a small flooding.

I'm only pointing this out because we are past the rainy season and this kind of weather is out of the ordinary.

Today was a completely average African day. We were supposed to have left for the Luweero village (where Patrick grew up) early in the morning, and we ended up leaving at 14.00. Plans change and then they change some more. It's perfectly fine - and only slightly challenging for a usually reasonably punctual Dane.

Luweero is a district in central Uganda. I almost feel like saying it is a poor district, but it seems a redundant remark when all districts around us are poor.

We went to visit Patrick's childhood home, a now empty house only maintained by the family for the sake of memories it seems. We took a stroll around the neighborhood to meet some family and hear the stories of the Cannibals.

As the pictures will tell, life here is far from what I know as home.

Today we are visiting a farm in Kiboga with Engineer Mike. In Uganda, it seems, it is quite common to call people by their job title or education, so I have no idea what Mike is actually called, he is just Engineer Mike.

Mike used to be a member or parliament and treasurer for the ruling party. As such he has close connections in the hierarchy and gives an interesting insight into how things really work in Uganda. No doubt his wealth is closely tied with his connections. Engineer Mike is an ambitious man and he is working on a lot of projects - most of which has a somewhat surprising long term angle, which is a rare find around here.

His farm a huge plot of land dedicated to dairy cows. As of now he is still primarily concerned with how to make the cows survive - how to get enough water in a sustainable way, how to battle ticks, how to spot deceases and increase the milk production. But continuously small steps are taken in the direction of a professional dairy production. After all, it is Uganda - one has to appreciate even small steps.

It is time to leave Uganda. I'm ready and we are only waiting for our flight to Dubai.

It is a kind of sketchy feeling - like we might not get out of here. I guess 17 days of continuously changing plans will introduce a bit of skepticism into any fixed schedule plan.

We just arrived back in Dubai for a one day layover before continuing my journey to the Philippines where the second chapter of this anthropological exploration begins.

But first a day of extreme contrast in the land of unlimited riches, which is seen clearly just by flying the low cost UAE airline, FlyDubai. They offer free luggage, free lunch and better on board service than most full service airlines.

In Dubai we are staying with friends of Thomas' family and will be taken good care of.

Religion and business mixes seamlessly in Dubai. They are quite serious about both and though the mosques outnumber the malls by two to one, the importance of business is clearly seen with the allowance of alcohol, tobacco and less than properly dressed women (according to Muslim standards).

It is interesting to see this slow decay of God given principle is repeated here, just as it was played out elsewhere in the world hundreds of years ago. It is a fine balance, that of money and religion.

I'm going to leave Dubai to its own demise and continue onwards to the Philippines, secretly wondering what comes after money.

Thomas will be heading back to Europe, and I expect to meet with Gaili from Estonia in Moalboal on the Cebu Island tomorrow. Gaili is visiting the Philippines for a good 3 months, while working long distance like me and she recently invited me to join her for a mixed Philippine exploration and working adventure.

Arrived well in Manila, only about an hour late. As this is my first visit to the Philippines I wasn't entirely sure what to expect in terms of possessing time, but I made it through immigration in about 10 minutes. Then on to the ATM and SIM card shop (money and internet) before rushing on to catch the flight to Cebu.

Through and through in 50 minutes, ironically the ATM being the most challenging task. My MasterCard is absolutely useless for getting cash and my Visa only worked in the third machine.

Fair use Internet for 30 days costs 1000 pesos (~20 USD/EUR), and was bought and set up in 3 minutes.

I now welcome me myself to the Philippines.

Waiting in line for a taxi was a surprisingly ordered process - though indeed a lengthy one in high humidity tropical Cebu city.

As I repeatedly rejected the offerings to take me all the way to Moalboal by taxi, I was warned about the road conditions after the typhoon yesterday. Seems like a fair enough warning, but at the same time it would be the most obvious thing to say to the newly arrived tourist ;) I continuously refuses and finally got a regular taxi to take me to the south bus terminal, from where I was looking at a 3 hour bus ride to Moalboal. 3 minutes into the ride the driver starts touching the subject, though his angle was busses being overcrowded because everyone was going home for New Years celebrations.

After his third attempt I agreed, that if the lines were indeed very long at the terminal, we would find a couple of locals and offer them a cheap ride, while I paid the majority of the 2200 pesos, which would be the absolute minimum fare. Seemed fair enough.

When we finally got to the terminal the lines stretched far into the street and it seemed illogical to insist any further - I would clearly have to wait for hours to save the equivalent of a short cab ride across Copenhagen.

We quickly found Merry Joy, a local teacher, and the driver spent about 15 minutes more trying to find another person to join the ride, but it seems the Filipinos mostly travel in groups of 3 or more.

My wallet lost the battle with my patience and we are now on our way to Moalboal, conversing about the troubles of ordinary life in the Philippines.

I could hardly wish for a better start.

About 1 and 1/2 hour into the ride, the mountainous road lad us past several blacked out villages. The clear signs of a recently passed typhoon, and at best they will have electricity back within a few days.

5-7 dark villages later we met ancestors of heavy rainfall, overflowing the road completely - if there ever was a road here in the first place, I have no way of telling.

Now we just passed a long stretch of seriously flooding. People are out, knee deep in water, helping the passing vehicles get through, and by now I am certainly thankful for being safely tugged inside a taxi.

I arrived dry-shoed to Panagsama Beach, Moalboal just in time to have my first Filipino meal at the Seaview restaurant, a bamboo hut on poles, with water flowing beneath our feet.

Filipino food isn't really worth mentioning, unless you mean to be rude. And the menu reflects that by being a mix of European and Thai dishes. But with a place like this, who cares.

We walked through the "jungle", in an attempt to find our way to the nearby "white beach", and we got lost. With the aid of some local girls safely navigating the small trails of the wilderness and a German "14 years native", we finally found the beach.

The beach is white, not with sand, but with washed up corals.

We ate at Seaview and had a few drinks at 7 sins. There was a small set of fireworks. That's about it for New Years celebration. Oh - wait, yeah, I tried some dried fish the South Koreans brought to the bar. I figured I had to.

The shops and the market here is not suffering from any kind of New Year's Day awareness - everything is open for business. We just came back from visiting the local market in Moalboal city, about 4-5 km from the beach. I am surprised to find the market assortment a bit limited - somehow I was expecting a place like this to be flooded with fresh and exotic fruits. Mangoes and flip-flops are really the only thing found in abundance. The oranges (tiny, pathetic ones) are all imported from China.

I don't know if this is due to the typhoon, but I somehow doubt it as I saw the same assortment in the huge European style supermarket we checked out. Btw, the supermarkets here seems to follow a 50% candy and snacks, 50% canned food and chemicals distribution. It is somewhat depressing.

I have now had some time to observe the Filipino process in raw. Maybe it is more appropriately just called presence. It's not really a process, more like a right here, right now, strictly in the moment, one thing at the time kinda thing. And with one thing I don't mean complex matters such as making a mango juice. Making mango juice involves a long series of individual tasks, performed in a specific order. Even when making two juices - don't change the order and do not attempt to make two juices at once, or confusion may (and most likely will) occur.

I have spent a few mornings watching the local guy pre-crush ice with the handlebar of a dinner knife on a per glass basis - and then blending it. The local girl happily cuts barely enough onion and tomato to go with the individually whipped two eggs at the time and then focuses the omelet till it is done and served, before even considering whipping up the next batch regardless of having to serve a whole party of omelets. It does seem to be a repeating pattern, which applies, at least across the Filipino service industry, be it the restaurants or the small shops or the euro style supermarket, which by the way has more clerks than customers.

You can imagine being served a full meal here requires some patience as it is very unlikely the kitchen will ever prepare two dishes simultaneously. As much as I appreciate the thoroughness of finishing one thing before starting another, I fail to applaud this implementation of thoroughness ;)

With all of that said, the Filipinos are extremely welcoming, friendly and relaxed. You hardly pass anyone without a friendly salutation and a smile. Through the poverty and disorganization, it is a pleasure to be here - as long as I'm not in a hurry.

To my surprise Moalboal has some of the worlds best and most accessible coral reefs. It is basically a matter of getting in the water, and you're there. Since I currently live a good 20 seconds from the shore, today I grabbed my mask and snorkel and went for a look.

It really is spectacular and I expect I got to see only a small fragment of the wonders below the surface.

About 30-40 meters out there is a huge, seemingly endless drop. It's like the end of the world and very fascinating all on its own. Unfortunately there is a limit to how far down I can explore the drop with just a mask and snorkel.

I wish I had an underwater camera, but I don't - you'll just have to imagine or come here yourself.

We are about to leave Moalboal with our next destination being Dumaguete on Negros. The trip is supposed to be as follows: tricycle to Moalboal city, bus to Bato, tricycle to Lilo-an port, ferry to Sibulan on Negros and then finally a Jeepney to Dumaguete city center. This is a journey of about 80 km, and should be doable before nighttime.

We are now stuck halfway to Bato, because the bridge here has been flushed away by the flooding of the typhoon last week. We had to cross the temporary bridge on foot and await another bus on the other side. Busses runs Filipino schedule, which means it will likely (and hopefully) be here some time today.

The local small shop at the temporary bus stop offers only one type of cold refreshments - Coca Cola - at the insane price of 8 pesos (15 cents).

I am continuously shocked with the priority of Coke over water.

Finally it started raining and we ended up getting a tricycle to take us the remaining part of the road to Lilo-an, on the southern tip of Cebu Island. It took us about an hour and a half.

We are now going to cross the narrow strait of the Philippine Sea between Cebu and negros. It's a about a 30 minute sail with a small motor ferry.

We have regained the exaggerated aircondition privileges of western civilization at the Nicanor hotel in Dumaguete. As too often, they overdo it and we are likely to fall ill in the vast change of temperature on each side of the door. I have no idea how 16 degrees inside temperature makes any kind of sense.

The boat trip and following Jeepney ride went as planned and we're now heading to the local immigration office to apply for Gailis visa extension.

The immigration office was packed and processing time for visa extension is 5 days minimum, which means we'll have to get back here no earlier than Friday.

We have decided to spend the next week on a nearby island, Siquijor, and we'll head there first thing tomorrow morning.

Fortunately I don't have a tendency for sea sickness otherwise this would be the perfect occasion. We've had a nearly perfectly sideways wave-rolling ride, tossing the small ferry a good 60 degrees back and forth for about an hour now. Topping it off with knowledge of small ferry accidents in the Philippine Sea adds up to a less the pleasant experience, though it really is just a matter of holding on and keeping calm :)

This seems like a near perfect place to work. Our hut is right on the beach, and the hammock is inviting me for several days of uninterrupted writing and coding bliss.

I'll keep quiet and get on with it ...

Yesterday I twisted or dislocated something in my left big toe, running in the shallow mid-tide water on the beach (no, not running-running, just fucking-around-running). It hurts like a motherfucker.

I have also come to know that I am on "Island of the Sorcerers" and "The Island of Healing". It turns out, Siquijor is known for black magic, witches, sorcerers and is particular good for healing, and with my foot hurting badly, I had a perfectly good reason to seek one or two out and have them take a look at my foot.

(Yes, it is a photo of my foot - deal with it)

First I went to see the bulo-bulo girl. She lives right down the street anyway, so why not. She is performing healing through cleansing. Using a glass of water, a straw and a black stone she draws any impurities from the patient into the water, until all impurities are gone and the water remains clean.

The bulo-bulo method originates from this island, and has been used for centuries, possibly even millennials, as the Philippines is believed to have been populated as far back as 67000 years ago.

It only took about 5-7 minutes and clearly relieved the pain, at least for a while. If anyone wonders, ... no, it didn't miraculously cure my blue-yellow-red toe in an instant. However, from my point of view it did seem to provide an aid in the natural healing process.

We went to visit a witch in the back country of a town named Maria. I didn't get the name of the witch.

She did a thorough and very painful massage of my toe, and the driver and now also interpreter, Jerry, told me nothing was broken, and that it now needed to rest. I was given a stack of leaves to squash and wrap around my toe during the night, to help the healing process.

Payment is purely donation based. You decide.

Leaving the witch, it hurts seriously, but in a somewhat less troubling way. It is nice to know nothing is broken.

Regardless of witchery working or not, this is truly a magical island.

I left Siquijor with some reluctance. The Islanders Paradise is secluded and primitive, quiet and beautiful. Truly, life in the hammock on magical island, Siquijor, was sweet.

We are now heading back to Dumaguete and a couple of days of full time work, combined with overnight traveling. I want to try a local hospital - partly to get a second opinion on my foot, partly to get a firsthand experience with the public health sector in the Philippines. Depending on how long it takes, we will proceed to Cebu City, taking an overnight ferry, and then from Cebu on to Bantanyan, a small island north west of Cebu Island.

But first we'll have to get through this hour long roller-coaster ride, while doing a serious attempt at working on my laptop.

Just cleared the doctors office and the message was the same - except I was given some anti-inflammatory pills instead of leaves.

Foot is improving but still painful and since I don't have any more leaves, I guess I do the pills for a few days.

I only waited for about an hour before seeing the doctor - he looked a bit like Mr. Miyagi. Considering the crowds and the chaos in the Medical center reception, I think I somehow got priority treatment and I gladly paid the 400 pesos he asked for.

The hospital was very clean and well air-conditioned, once you got past the reception. The few other patients I spoke to were happy with the standard and seemed quite amused with me bringing a twisted/dislocated toe to the doctor.

After having watched the wind increase and the ocean roar louder and louder for a couple of hours from the Honeycomb cafe on the ocean front, we decided an all night ferry (Filipino style) wasn't such a good idea.

Instead we caught the afternoon luxury bus, with Aircon and WiFi and we are now just past Moalboal on Cebu. This way the ferry ride was just a 45 minute crossing on the quiet side of Cebu, and though the ride is bumpy is seems a good choice.

Note on luxury bus: WiFi works while bus is in terminal, Aircon means 19 degrees going for 16, a 5 seats across Filipino-size seat arrangement ... and that is most definitely luxurious by Filipino standards.

We checked in to the Dragon Hotel Inn for the night. On the last leg of the bus ride I received some both surprising and disturbing news from my employer back home. Without revealing too much, the consequence is another couple of hours of work tonight and a full day of high speed + stable internet required for most of the day tomorrow.

So much for working from the road. It seems my plans might need an update. Though I shouldn't complain, hi-impact last-minute changes beyond your control sucks - especially when you are tired.

I'm tired!

Arrived to Bantayan late yesterday and picked the first accommodation offers on the pier upon leaving the ferry. Curiously I have never experienced anyone quite as persistent as this guy during my stay on the Philippines - they are actually very modest and normally very quickly accepts a "no". Not this guy - and well, we needed a place to stay. Obviously it wasn't paradise hotel, though set directly on the beach. Staying at Islanders Paradise clearly makes one a little picky.

As we woke up we ventured up the beach to find a replacement for the remaining days here. After a couple of misses, we found the Sunday Flower Hotel - and who can resist a name like that. Second floor room with ocean-side balcony for 1100 pesos (~20 EUR) a night.

The plan is to stay here until Saturday and then head back to Cebu City.

I have changed my travel plans a bit, and I'll go from Cebu to Ho Chi Minh on Sunday instead of Tuesday next week. Looking at this beach it kinda sucks, but it seems overly likely that I'll have to work with the Vietnam team most of next week and it makes sense to move closer to them just in case. It is also going to give me a bit more time to explore the Vietnamese way, which is the final leg of this journey.

For now, I am plugged in on Bantayan, Filipino style.

I was quite convinced I would leave Bantayan today - underlined by the hotel booking in Cebu tonight and from there, the flight leaving for Manila and onwards to Ho Chi Minh tomorrow. But ... I am still here. Not on purpose, mind you, but the tropical cyclone, Amang, won't let me leave. All ferries off and to the island has been cancelled for now - and who knows about tomorrow. I simply must applaud the ferry company for a new low in information. It goes like this: If the office is open, the ferry sails. It's not open. Such are the conditions of living with tropical cyclones.

The only other way off the island now is by small plane or the small local fisher boats - but only in theory, cause they are staying indoors too. We were offered a sail across by the bike taxi rider, in his uncles fisher boat. Big boat, big boat, room for two ... Haha, if I really wanted to die, I'd just go and jump off the pier right now, and anyway the uncle said no as well (yes, we did go to check it out).

So we are stuck her without further notice.

With any luck there is a boat leaving early in the morning, like round 5AM, they say - if and only if the storm quiets down.

Ironically the Pope is also having some trouble out here these days. He came to visit the survivors of grandmaster typhoon Yolanda from 2013, and was chased away by another typhoon. Not impressive for the CEO of God, Inc, especially as his visit to the Philippines coincides with the Sinolog festival in Cebu - a celebration to commemorates the Filipino acceptance of Roman Catholicism, and their rejection of former beliefs. Perhaps it is time to reconsider?

We checked into a Resort near the port late yesterday afternoon, to be able to keep an eye on any ferries arriving. Though it is about five levels down from the Sunday Flower, it was either that or camping out in the no-walled, already crowded ferry terminal. An arriving ferry is the only way to know the ferries are en route again.

Night turned to really early morning and there were still no sight of any ferry. The ocean had turned relatively calm when I did my first, and ridiculously optimistic, 30 meters scout run to the beach at 04.15. Still no sight of any ferries. I repeated the pattern with 15 minutes intervals until around 6, when I saw the first fishermen preparing the "big" fishing boats. I spotted the taxi-rider and he spotted me, and after a short reflection period, including carefully paying attention to facial expressions of resort clerk when telling him we would cross in fisher boat, we agreed. If boatman says yes, then it is safe.

The crossing is about 16 km and I'll admit, it was a little scary to get into the boat not knowing what to expect out there. But in retrospect, it was a fun ride. Really nothing to worry about. Boatman said yes, remember :)

Until next time, Bantayan

After the crossing we still had a 4 hour bus ride to Cebu City, where the main parade of the Sinolog festival is expected to attract several million people. Our trouble were only half done with, but we made it just in time for Gaili's boarding. She is now off to Palawan, as I am awaiting boarding for my Manila flight in Mactan Cebu International Airport.

It has been some stressful final days, momentarily tainting the Philippine experience.

But I am safe and I have a whole bucket full of crispy new best friends.

One foot out the door, making a mental note to remember the bliss of the hammock and homemade french toast in the morning, far from any concern about typhoons and religious submission.

Thank you Filipinos, for you smiles, your kindness and your humility - other nations might learn a thing or two.

I was never hungry, but I can't praise your cooking skills. You might learn a thing or two from ... well, yeah, even the Swedish Chef.

I am off to pursue the next and final chapter of my journey. Vietnam, I hear you have structure and great food ...

Got all the way in five steps flat. Two steps in I notice one very clear difference - this is a communist country. Not that is shows practically, but the symbols are everywhere. In the flags, the uniforms and the posters using stereotype communist imagery and design. There is this obvious propaganda style to it. It's so iconic it cannot help but to impress.

But once you're past that, this is a modern metropolis in all possible ways - and it sure is efficient. About an hour and a half after touchdown, I am now in my hotel room in the city center (District 1) getting ready to pass out. Considering my departure started this morning at 6.30, taking a fishing boat off Bantayan, showing up at 10 AM at the Synova office tomorrow morning seems very, very early.

I woke up this morning, completely round-abouted, too early and too suddenly awake to just go back to sleep. I managed to pull off half a Yoga session before I feasted on "Breakfast included" and found my way to the office.

I am here because my (soon to be former) employer is working with Synova on some projects and we are supposed to do a handover of the projects I made over the past year and a half.

I had been told that the verbal English skill are generally limited but from my previous textual communication with Thao (my primary contact), I had been led to believe it wouldn't be as bad as it was presented beforehand. Ha! It is exactly as bad as the "skeptics" had announced but I have no doubt we'll get through it just fine anyway - one goes a long way with body language and good intentions.

So far I managed to squeeze myself into Thao's lunch plans, and had a delicious and remarkably cheap (she paid) Vietnamese meal in a small and very simple local restaurant close to the office. Low table, kids chairs, rice, meat, sauce/soup, a bunch of different leaves, two sticks and a bowl. The name? Oh, I forgot. To be honest I had absolutely no idea how to go about eating the food we were served - but Thao just threw a bunch of stuff in my bowl and I tried my best.

It's fun being here, though I hardly know where I am.

What?

Yes, it's spicy as hell and I love it. I am flowing, cluelessly. Letting the intense pace of the metropolis (and Thao) set the agenda and just try to suck in as much as possible in the process.

I have found a glimpse of safety in repetition by getting my morning coffee from the Moto Cafe girls - an entirely scooter based coffee shop serving morning coffee to pedestrians close by the office.

For lunch I explore the nearby neighborhood restaurants by foot, always safely guided by Thao in this myriad of scooter chaos with no clear recognition of "green light walk, red light stop". I eat weird fruits called Vu Sua for snacks and after work, I get on the back of Thao's or Thuyet's scooter and venture into the even more crazy rushhour traffic of inner city Ho Chi Minh, to end up idonnowhere. A small restaurant in a back alley or a street food joint for another laughably cheap culinary experience including intestines of various animals and always, always lots of chili. Most of the time I have no idea what I am eating and my chopstick skills have been seriously challenged - but the food is soo good and at this rate I'll gain at least 10kgs by the end of the week.

I hardly understand a word of any conversation, but it doesn't matter because I am well fed and decently rested. I just smile and bow.

In 5 days I had 5 late evenings in the Synova office, in a mix of training, aiding on the ongoing projects and finishing documentation. I guess I foresaw this, after all I changed my tickets to minimize the consequences. None the less it doesn't leave much time for exploring the Vietnamese way. Or perhaps it is exactly that?

I wanted to get close to living the life of a Vietnamese outsourcing developer while being here and in the spirit of extreme projection, I had tried to arrange for private accommodation with Thao or Thuyet, but in both cases it turned out impossible. In the case of Thao I would have had to marry her before being invited for a 6 day collegial sleep over or the repercussions from her mother would simply be too severe. A clear cultural clash with the relaxed inter-gender relationships known in Denmark. With Thuyet the other 8 people of the very limited space household also had a say in the matter and honestly I don't think they thought I could handle it - perhaps mixed with them not really knowing what to expect from having a privileged Dane hanging around for 6 days. Haha, I'll admit it might seem like a lot of work.

Now, having sat there in the office with them late into the evening every day, it does appear I was indeed living their life, though I had a slightly shorter trip home, to the quiet and every day newly cleaned and above average hotel room, after work and late dinning out in Ho Chi Minh.

I have found myself craving a cigarette, which sucks in the light of not having smoked for about a month by now. Possibly the sign of an imbalance in my working hours and stressful momentarily interchanging tasks. I don't feel any urge to start smoking again - it seems more like a re-awoken pattern of the past, given the similarity of circumstances.

Thao has nicknamed me "Fat pig" and she never fails to punch me hard, whenever I make fun of her English skills. I think the exchange of rude remarks is a good indication of the sense of comfort - I honestly feared that would be impossible, granted the work task I am here to perform with her and Thuyet.

On my final day, I went on a one day tour of the Mekong Delta with Thao and a busload of tourists. We left the city at 7AM and drove for about 2 and a half hours west to a small town, in the midst of the Mekong Delta, called Cái Bè. Small means just about 300.000 inhabitants - which is funny coming from Denmark. Relativity in full effect.

From Cái Bè a boat took us into the delta, to see a traditional floating market. Because the Mekong Delta is mostly rivers fruits, vegetables and other locally produced goods are still transported up and down the rivers in the traditional Vietnamese river boats and they meet in the floating markets to trade the goods. In other words, a floating market is simply a location where boats meet to trade by docking along side each other in the middle of the river.

No reason to hide this was a tourist intended day-trip, and we were paraded through the all the classic point of sales locations, offered seriously overpriced locally produced goods, lightly spiced up with "this is how you make rice paper" and "Who wants to hold a giant Python" events, and finally a riverside lunch, which sadly marked the worst meal of my week. I pity the tourists among us who seemed impressed.

Tourist crap aside, I felt privileged to get a ride out of the city, to observe the countryside landscape and the famous Mekong Delta first hand. I had a short glimpse of the local environment and even a local market in Vinh Long during the final "be back here in 45 minutes" off-leech session.

We got back to Ho Chi Minh, just in time for Bún Bò Huê at Đông Ba - making this the day of both the worst and the best meal of my week in Vietnam.

The price of 60.000 dong (~ €2) for two people, including drinks, makes me feel guilty - wish I could have brought the whole busload here, despite the risk they might not enjoy it the least bit due to the lack of tourist interior appeal. Relativity untamed.

After munching on noodles, soup and exotic leaves the only one thing remaining on my to-do list was the required visit to a regular supermarket, because that is a beautifully simple way of inspecting the middle class consumer awareness.

Visiting the laundry powder aisle easily tells me about awareness of biodegradability and allergens, the content of the cooling section indicates nutritional insight and so on and so forth. Thao was very confused as to the meaning of this last wish, but finally took me to a Big C supermarket, where I wandered bewildered around for a good hour.

It's very well assorted and cheap, much like an average North American supermarket and no consumer awareness is reflected in the shelve content - only the Big C has a giant scooter parking facility, replacing the all-American parking lot.

I have had a short but very enlightening stay in Vietnam and I definitely hope to come back in the near future - but I would demand to see more of the countryside. Surprisingly, despite the communist regime, icons and fancy posters everywhere, the capitalistic mentality rules Vietnam everywhere I went.

I seriously don't know how to thank Thao for having taken so good care of me - she has granted me another adventure, under circumstances where it would seem impossible.

I am now on my way back to Copenhagen - the end of this 6 1/2 weeks journey is closing in rapidly. It's a bit scary to be returning to freezing cold Copenhagen - though I only have to survive three weeks there, before heading off again.

Everything leading to departure went almost too smooth - so smooth in fact, that the plane left ahead of schedule. First time ever in my experience (and I do have a fair amount of flying on my conscience). I don't know if that is just the way it is in Vietnam, but without any hesitation I will say: The Vietnamese are well structured, hard working and very reasonably punctual.

And they know how to cook!

I am back in Dubai  - on my way home.

I am reminded of the peaceful mix of cultures and religions. Of the hypocrisy that at the same time seems absurd and well considered. I guess it is a process - and while I hastily ridicule I also applaud their progress. One step at the time.

Home! I wonder what it will feel like arriving to the conformity of knowing the ins and outs. Though I have only been away for six and a half weeks the impressions of this adventure will last a lifetime.

Surprisingly I was greeted with a blue sky in Copenhagen. A rare sight this time of the year.

I am happy to be home and thankful for having had an adventure beyond imagination.

In Uganda I stayed with the elite and met power when it is most blinded by its own conquests. I went among the poor without any chance of blending in - after all I am a muzungu - and understood why power is addictive when poverty is a real threat.

In Dubai I wondered what the third entity might be - after Religion and Money.

In the Philippines I traveled the poor countryside by local means and found myself at peace with the pace - until I had to catch a plane. And when at peace everything is ok.

In Vietnam I worked with the middle class and saw how a little progress is enough to keep the order of things in place. And Ironically good food is not to be underestimated.

And now I am back to just being me, the nutcase who wants to save the world, in the happiest country on the planet. Go figure.