March 4th – Mingalabar Myanmar/Hello Burma!

This afternoon, I and 8 other passengers landed in Yangon airport to start our 3 day exploration of Myanmar (I still prefer to call it Burma, but our politically correct guide insisted on calling it Myanmar – a good way for her not to fall out with the military government who still rule this country with a rod of iron).

Because the country virtually closed itself off to tourism for a couple of decades, and so few people have visited it since it began to open itself up again over the last couple of years, it was very difficult to know what to expect. I guess that I expected it to be more primitive and more poor than what we were confronted with on the busy streets of Yangon. There were plenty of cars on the streets, but no motorbikes (which made a massive contrast from Vietnam), so the ordinary workers have to rely on the public transport system. That meant that the buses were unbelievably full – people were absolutely crammed in and literally hanging off the sides. How the bus conductors kept a track of everyone, I'll never know.

As it was already dark, we headed straight for the dazzling Shwedigon Pagoda – a place that was such a sensory overload that it's difficult to describe. The central stupa (which is meant to contain various Buddha relics) was enormous, and covered in glittering gold that was lit up by floodlights so that it appeared to be glowing, while it was surrounded by so many other temples, Buddhas in every sort of position, and thronged by literally thousands of worshippers. With this combination of shiny bling, flashing lights, architectural splendour, and religious devotion, it was like a cross-between Las Vegas, Disneyland and St Peter's Basilica in Rome. Basically, it was like nothing else I've seen before.

In facts and figures – the central stupa was 332 feet high, is thought to be 2,500 years old, is covered with over 13,000 large plates of gold, the weather vane contains 1,100 diamonds, while on top of that is a diamond orb that contains 4,300 diamonds totalling 1,800 carats. Unbelievable glitter.

This was an almost overwhelming introduction to a country that is profoundly Buddhist and perhaps the most obviously religious country that I've ever been to. Monks in their crimson robes walking barefoot along the street are an incredibly common sight in Burma, while the huge number of temples seem to be an integral part of everyday life. Here at Shwedigon, families did their evening walk around the massive stupa, in the same way that Spanish families do their paseo around the central square, or British families do a walk around the shopping mall. Whilst plenty of people were quietly praying or lighting candles, there wasn't an atmosphere of serious religious piety here – instead, there seemed to be a really joyful atmosphere in a place where people came for fun as well as to pray.

It was strange to think that the happy-looking people all around us have been living under a repressive dictatorship, which has only just begun to loosen its grip on the country. Whether the atmosphere was this happy when Ang San Suu Kyi was still under house arrest I can't tell you, (and our guide couldn't tell us); but, it was telling that there weren't the same signs on the streets you see in other dictatorships I've been to, where a cult of the leader, or of the Party is shamelessly promoted all around on billboards. Here, the only omnipresent cult that I could see, was of Buddha – you can't look anywhere in Myanmar without seeing a statue of image of the Buddha somewhere.

This was almost too much to take in, and once we'd got to our luxurious hotel (the Governor's Residence), everyone was pretty much dumbfounded over dinner – although the fact that we'd just been told that we had to get up at 3.30am to fly to Bagan didn't help.

If the rest of Burma was going to be as amazing as this, this was going to be one hell of a trip.

March 4th – Arriving and Departing in Bangkok

Bangkok is always an exciting city to visit, but for me, the excitement was even greater, because today I was departing to accompany the ship's overland tour to Myanmar/Burma.

That did mean that Tracy and I had to go our separate ways for a few days, but she managed to get over her separation angst by paying a visit to the incredibly overcrowded Royal Palace, having a delicious Thai banquet, and by doing some much-needed retail therapy without me lagging behind her complaining that my feet were hurting!

March 2nd – Squeezing Into The Cu Chi Tunnels

It was an early start for the 2-hour drive out of HCMC to get to the Cu Chi Tunnels – a remarkable network of tunnels where the Viet Cong hid and lived underground, away from the American troops, who were never able to dislodge them from their subterranean refuge.

Just seeing the terrible conditions that the VC endured, and their ingenious solutions to underground living, showed you just how strong their resolve was and how resourceful they were when it came to guerrilla warfare. The American GIs didn't have much of a chance against an enemy like this, that would attack and then disappear without a trace.

We saw the gruesome booby traps they set for the Americans, which were designed to maim and injure, rather than kill – they knew that the GIs wouldn't leave an injured comrade, which at the very least would slow them down considerable, and would make them even more vulnerable to ambush.

We saw the camouflaged entrances to the tunnels on the ground, which were so incredibly tiny that it's a real struggle for westerners to get in. I last had a go in 2010 and just about squeezed in, so I wanted to see if three more years of cruising had compromised my tunnel entering ability. Fortunately, I just about managed to get into the tiny hole, and I didn't have a Pooh Bear experience by getting stuck in it.

If I'd been really brave, I could have crawled along the dark and dank tunnel to see where it led to, but I didn't fancy that, so we went to one which had been slightly enlarged and lit up for us larger westerners to get a sanitised view of tunnel life. Even so, it was pretty claustrophobic down there, as we stooped along this airless conduit – you really wouldn't want to spend more than 5 minutes down there.

This was a very thought-provoking tour, that puts the rarely heard North Vietnamese side of the story across, and reminds us of the everyday grim reality of war.

March 1st – Cross Dressing and Golden Hair in Ho Chi Minh City

I was up early to narrate from the bridge our final approach to Ho Chi Minh City down the winding Saigon River. Even in the space of the 12 months since our last visit, the amount of new buildings in the skyline was astonishing. The city is growing at a phenomenal rate, meaning that the overcrowded roads are possibly even more gridlocked than they were last time (it didn't seem possible that they could be more crowded, but they are).

We took the Shuttle Bus into town, and headed for the Ben Than Market, which was its usual chaotic and colourful jumble of bargains, fakes and grabby vendors. I tried some half-hearted bargaining for T-shirts, but the over-inflated offer price, then the fake shock when I countered with something more realistic soon wore me down, and I ended up not buying anything.

We made the focus for our exploration one of the districts to the north of District One, where we were heading to a rough-and-ready restaurant that we'd seen recommended on the internet. On our way there, we left the colonial buildings and western stores of central HCMC behind, and made our way up sweaty, traffic-clogged streets lined with stores that were focused on the domestic market. We finally found our restaurant in a (thankfully quiet) side street, so we sat outside in the shade and tried to cool down. The restaurant specialised in a form of fried crepe that was filled with cheese, vegetables, and a choice of chicken, pork or prawns – a tasty fusion of French and Vietnamese cuisines. It was lovely, the beer was cheap, the clientele were mainly locals and the waiters were friendly – a good choice.

Next, we headed back to the centre, where Tracy had booked a hair appointment at a salon where she'd had a successful cut and colour last year. As this is a fairly lengthy process, I had a massage (nothing dodgy!), while I waited for her. By the time I came back super-relaxed, I could see that Tracy was looking a little agitated. It appeared that as they're not that used to colouring western hair, they'd added some bleach to her hair colour, so her hair was looking distinctly golden, rather than blond. In the past she's had a similar colour disaster and come out with an unwanted "Romanian Hooker" look, so she was coming increasingly close to meltdown. After a series of highly stressed ranting and troughs of depression, and three attempts to rectify the straw colour, we got something close to the colour that she wanted. Not a relaxing way to spend the afternoon.

All the time taken turning her from yellow to blond meant that we didn't have time to go back to the ship to cool off, get showered, and get changed. So, with my scruffy shorts on, and with my t-shirt stuck to my back with massage oil, we caught a taxi to one of HCMC's most upmarket bars, the rooftop "Chill" bar on the 26th floor of the AB tower. Unfortunately, we'd forgotten about the dress code there, which doesn't let people in with shorts on – but we had an ingenious solution. Tracy had changed into a dress, so I attempted to cram myself into her trousers. I just about got them up my legs but I couldn't do them up – fortunately, my T-shirt was long enough to cover the gaping flies. So there we were, in HCMC's poshest bar, surrounded by the uber-trendy nouveau riche of the city, enjoying million dollar views, with me looking like a cross-dressing tramp, with my Romanian hooker girlfriend – we got lots of admiring looks!

After this, I got back into my shorts we went to our favourite restaurant, the much more informal Quan An Ngon for some delicious food.

You always have a an experience to remember in Ho Chi Minh City!

February 27th – My Son

From the industrial port of Chan May in Central Vietnam, I joined the tour to explore one of the region's more obscure ancient civilisations – the Champa. 1,000 years ago, the Cham people dominated this part of the world, and took on the might of the Khmer civilisation in Angkor Wat, and the Mongol hordes amongst others. However, by the 14th century they had gone into a decline and the majority of their cities were destroyed or abandoned. The years since then haven't been kind to their cities, and the destruction of the Vietnam War hardly helped, so all that's left are just a few feint reminders of this once-thriving civilisation.

The ruined city of My Son (pronounced "Mee Sun") is the Champa's grandest relic, so we took the long 2-hour drive through rice fields and green countryside; pausing only briefly to visit some of the most rudimentary toilets I've visited in a while. In fact, the reports of how basic they were caused some confusion to one of our number (who will remain nameless), who, on finding that there wasn't the "hole in the ground" that he'd been told about, saw a small hole in the corner where a tile had come up, and decided this was his target. It was only when he emerged and found that the real toilet was next door, that it became obvious that he's mistaken a store cupboard for the toilet. The poor cafe owners must think that us Western tourists are strange people!

So, we finally made it to My Son; and, although it's been billed as "Vietnam's Angkor Wat", it must be admitted that the ruins weren't nearly as extensive or impressive as Cambodia's jewel in the crown. However, it was an evocative site to explore in amongst the jungle, with its overgrown brick built temples elegantly decorated with Hindu Gods, and the odd bomb crater left by American efforts to target the Viet Cong who were hiding there.

Having worked up a sweat and a hunger with our archaeological exploration, it was time to head to a restaurant, where we had some typically tasty Vietnamese food. Our final stop was to the Cham Museum in Da Nang, where the best of the Cham sculpture had been gathered by the French, before the terrible damage of the Vietnam War. Judging by the high quality of the statues of the Hindu gods there, it must have been an advanced and cultured civilisation at its height.

February 25th – Cooking Hong Kong Style

Today, Tracy and I did a fun Chinese cooking course at the Hong Kong School of Home Management. We first went to a wet market at North Point on HK Island, and then it was time to learn. We didn't do anything particularly complicated, but what we cooked up was delicious – chilli beef and a prawn dish. The magic ingredients were the Chinese fish sauces and rice wine, although pretty much all of the sauces had MSG in them.

Having ploughed my way through my wonderfully tasty creations, we were told that it was then time to go for a Dim Sum lunch overlooking Hong Kong Harbour. More food was scarcely needed, but somehow we managed to work our way through quite a few more dishes.

At the end of lunch, we waddled our way through Kowloon's enormous shopping malls, before the ship's drill, and then more of Hong Kong's Number One leisure activity – shopping.

February 24th – At the Beach in Hong Kong

We've always wondered whether we should have gone to work abroad, somewhere like Hong Kong in our working lives – the ex-pat life here is pretty good.

After narrating our sail-in to Hong Kong's stunning harbour from the bridge, we set off after lunch from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island, to meet up with our local friends Tim and Jill who had kindly offered to show us around for the day. They took us away from the urban jungle of the Central District, to the less-crowded south of the island, to show us a side of Hong Kong which doesn't fit into its stereotypical image of skyscrapers and busy streets.

We stopped at the surf beach of Big Wave Bay – who'd have thought that Hong Kong had a surf beach? It wasn't exactly huge waves, but there was easily enough surf to keep amateurs like us happy if we'd brought our wetsuits. And then we went to the village of Shek O, which still has a relaxed community feel to it, that again you wouldn't expect to find in a place like Hong Kong.

We did a bracing walk around the rocky headland, and then headed for the colonial preserve that is the Shek O Golf Club. This exclusive piece of real estate is home to an exclusive Golf Club that has the look and feel of a Home Counties club, complete with a roaring log fire in the hallway, and jam and teacakes for tea – only the eye-watering joining fee and annual memberships were a reminder that we were in the Far East, rather than Surrey.

Our day was rounded off by a delicious dinner at another essential ex-pat institution – the Hong Kong Country Club. This place had more Chinese people there, but they still maintain quotas of nationalities for their membership, to ensure that no single ethnic group is in ascendancy. We had a great time catching up on the gossip, and getting fascinating insights into Hong Kong life that we'd never get as casual tourists.

A lovely day.