By Madison Kearney
As we lay our eyes upon The Land of The Dragon for the very first time, we were mesmerised by the infinite stretches of rice paddy fields, dotted by straw hats tirelessly working to sow their rice. Occasionally, we would catch glimpses of men herding water buffalo or women and children squeezed onto motorbikes. This is when it hit home; we were definitely not in Oz anymore.
Although we had only left our home country 24 hours ago, the life these people led was a far cry from our own. It wasn’t just the confounding amount of labour, but also the primitive farming methods, that one would associate with a third world, that made me realise how truly lucky we are in Australia. Their equipment and tools were rudimentary in the fact that they were handheld or animal assisted, compared to our machinery back home. All this being said, as our driver negotiated the dangerous roads with oncoming traffic, I was captivated by the blur of smiles and warm faces that we passed. It was as though they were the most content people in the world.
Every aspect of the drive was fun and intriguing. Dense populations of people commuting by scooters, bikes, trucks and cars fascinated me. The landscape was lush and green and the houses definitely wouldn’t have passed council approval back in Australia. I knew we couldn’t have been far from our destination as we approached a bright yellow bridge, representing a mythical dragon, with humps raised as if it were moving in and out of the murky water. Through the thick, gun-powder coloured smog, that penetrated the eyes, a two-story sky-line began to appear. The road we were travelling along as we entered town was creatively lined by a mosaic wall, stretching as far as the eye could see. I felt like a sideshow clown, as my head was swivelling from side to side so fast to try and absorb as much of the vibrant coloured art as possible.
As we turned into a small and bustling five way intersection, our driver spoke excitedly for the first time as he pointed to “Beer Corner” in his broken English. It was evidently a very popular tourist hangout, and his attempt to break the silence and bridge the gap in our cultures through the enthusiastic concept of beer drinking and celebration, was very funny. No sooner had we left ‘Beer Corner’ with its rows of small plastic chairs for drinking patrons, the car suddenly stopped. We were so busy taking in the sights, that we were surprised to find that we had reached our Hotel, smack bang in the vibrant, noisy centre of the old town.
The beaming smiles from all of the hotel workers that were outside to greet us was overwhelming, and their insistence on carrying our luggage was so lovely. We had anticipated the country to be low in economic standards, and were surprised to be presented with such luxury. The doors were opened by the bell-boys and the remaining staff harmoniously sang “Xin Chao”, as if practiced thousands of times. We were directed to lounges, and were provided with refreshing hot steaming towels and a welcome drink. I was particularly hesitant about drinking this strange concoction, but I thought “when in Rome!” My tastebuds exploded with the variety of flavours and spices in the tea.
After forcing down the rest of the drink, to avoid looking ungrateful, we were escorted to our rooms on the second floor. Our bags were delivered shortly after, allowing us to quickly change and dress appropriately for the drizzling weather that had suddenly started.
Walking out from our humble