Modern Vietnam relies heavily on the Honda Cub/Wave and increasingly on Chinese clones, but bicycles are becoming rarer with each passing year I visit.

Crossing the busy city streets is an art, requiring a certain amount of trust from all parties. The accepted norm is simply to walk out into the traffic at a predictable constant rate, the traffic will pass around you harmlessly. No one seems to mind as it's almost expected.

The US war, as it tends to be referred to, is never far from sight. It's impact upon the country's people, ecology, politics and psyche is an ever present reminder of the events that concluded with the Communist North taking the US supported South in 1975.

The defeat is for me illustrated here, by the contorted and smashed remains of these once impressive Boeing B52s. The wreckage still lies incongruously where it fell in 1972 - in the middle of the flower market pond in Hanoi, brought down by a surface to air missile. It appears to be a large section of fuselage between the tail and wing root junction and contains the aft landing gear. The other pictures show other B52 remains piled high elsewhere in the city, it was a little too precarious to look for serial numbers to ascertain whether of not the wreckage is from one 'plane or several of the eighteen B52s lost over Vietnam in between December 1972 and January 1973.

In the South of the country in Ho Chi Minh City is the formerly named 'Museum of American War Crimes'. The name has been softened in recent years and there is an exhibition of the work of the war photographers from both sides of the conflict which serves to demonstrate the enormous power of the humble still camera in skilled hands.

If you can picture in your mind the famous image of the little girl, Kim Phuc, running towards us after the napalm bomb strike, taken on 8th June 1972, which over 30 years later is an illustration of that power.

I re-discovered some of the negatives from this trip in 2018, and decided to re- scan them at the size I now use.

Left, in a Black Thai ethnic race village in the North is this cemetery, where the graves take the form of houses - complete with garden fences, a roof and even miniature furniture with a dinner service.

The religious site at Mai Son 60km South of Da Nang built during the Cham dynasty. The Chams were incumbent between the 4th and 13th centuries, My Son being the religious centre until the 10th. Many of the original buildings associated with this site were wood and rooted away long ago during the 6 centuries since abandonment following the invasion by the Viets in 980. The site also suffered the attention of B52s during the 1969-1975 war and the area was extensively mined.

My Son is an attractive site, slightly overgrown and not overly manicured, which gives the impression of just having stumbled across it. Construction was of locally produced red brick covered in stucco. Most of the latter has peeled of over the centuries.

For ornate doorways large stone uprights and lintels were carved from solid stone, the mortice and tenon joints of the this collapsed doorway, bottom left, are beautifully formed.

Ma No, a member of the Burmese Kayan people colloquially known as the 'long necks' owing to the displacement from progressively stacking these brass rings over the neck. The practice derives from the once held belief that it protected from Tigers. Ma No lives in Thailand in her village a short distance from the Thai town of Mae Hong Son close to the Myanmar border.

A little Hmong girl swings delightedly on the tribal swing erected in the market. This was a lovely moment to witness, in this troubled world a simple swing served to remind me that despite, ethnic, religious and geo-political differences we are all human.

Outside the temple is this symbolic representation of the Buddha's footprint onto which the locals balance coins on their edges, an activity requiring some patience as the surface is far from even.

Aerial view Uluru, or Ayres Rock as it's more commonly known. I was struck by the shadow disappearing into the distance as the sun set. The red colouration comes from iron oxide, apparently if it rains heavily the rock gets washed off and becomes a more normal "rock" colour, but then rusts back to this colour shortly afterwards.

Images from Angkor, Cambodia.

One of thousands of unique dancers, known as Apsaras, carved as frescos into of walls of the fabulous Angkor Wat complex at the ancient Khmer capital of Angkor

Modern Apsaras perform for tourists at the nearby town of Siem Reap, this image being taken through a wine glass for added weirdness...

One corner of the almost impossibly beautiful Ta Prohm site, a fig tree perched precariously on the roof of one of the many corridors.

As with many of the images taken here, a great dal of patience waiting for the tourists to clear was required, to give the appropriate abandoned feel. This image taken with the K1000 on it's first visit in 2002, it returned again 2007, by which time the place was significantly busier.

A Budhist monk's robes glow in the late evening light as the sun sets on the Angkor Wat Temple Mountain, in 2002.

Though technically rediscovered by the French in the 1860s, Angkor was never actually fully lost, as the overgrown and diminishing ruins were apparently continuously occupied by a small band of Buddhist monks since the ancient capital was ab an donned.

Below, one of the smaller residents who live on the floating villages of the Tonle Sap lake in Cambodia.