Thursday, March 20th, 2008
It’s been a shaky start in dear old Vietnam. Wasn’t sure we were going to be friends, me and this country. I am, however, very happy to have a friend and travel mate here through our biking learning curve and, together, Simone and I have managed to find a silver lining to every nasty rain cloud. Of course, there’s been warm sunshine too. However, due to weather and unforeseen circumstances we’ve taken an insanely circuitous route through the south!
Central Highlands
Our first stop in Vietnam was Kon Tom, noted as the “friendliest town in the country” by our guidebook. Shortly thereafter, we were manhandled at the bus station by security for having our bikes too close to the entrance. Then I projectile vomited twice, my first time to be sick this entire trip. However, after two rounds tree hugging and heaving, it was all over and done with very quickly and we could focus on our current situation.
We hauled my bike across the Laos/Vietnam border without tires because of a broken tube which I planned to change when we arrived. Ironically, this happened because we were trying to buy a new and better pump and while doing so the salesman proceeded to demonstrate by deflating my perfectly good tire, then discovered that the ones he was selling wouldn’t work and broke my value when trying to air it back up. When the bus dropped us off we realized that the three tubes we bought in Sekong where completely the wrong size and useless. Again, we were in the same bad spot: a rotten pump and no spares. I transported my bike to our hotel like a local, balanced precariously upside-down with the seat post on the back of a motorbike between me and the driver.
That night we discovered Vietnamese wine (and although I’ve “been away for a while” it’s actually not bad) and a delightful Vietnamese artist and restaurant owner who entertained us in his lovely, stylishly lit garden for Simone’s birthday with stories in French and English. He spoke of his family, his culture, the war and the difficulties of saving old traditions in modern times. He even lovingly drew us a map of the town with his complete color marker set pointing out highlights and suggested itineraries for the next day. Indeed, Kon Tom is a friendly, interesting town. You just have to scratch beneath the surface.
The next day, we were disappointed but prepared to travel 16 hours to Ho Chi Minh City in search of replacement tubes in the only city expected to have “imported bicycle parts.” Before biting the bullet however, we found a hero! A man who was able to replace the broken tube valve in less than three minutes when all other repairmen would just look at the thing, shake their heads and give it back to us. I could’ve kissed the man! We bought three value stem replacements and rode away. This development allowed us to stay an extra day to visit the surrounding village and avoid the long detour to Ho Chi Minh.
Central Coast
Our next task was to get to the coast, Quy N’gon, and start cycling again. We wanted sun and sea. One bus ride later, we were there; drenched and soaking wet in the rain while stubbornly riding to a restaurant in search of a good lunch. But we did find delicious treats! We ate warm crab and asparagus soup, sauteed squid and brilliantly steamed fish while looking out the window at the wild and angry grey ocean. Then the restaurant sold us the fashionable cheap ponchos seen all over town for our ride back to the bus station. During lunch we decided that we needed to head south fast. In all of our itinerary planning, we forgot one key factor: weather. If we wanted fun and surf we need to be in the south at this time of year. On to bus number three.
Southern Coast
We organized a minibus that same day to take us to Nha Trang, the cusp of good weather in Vietnam, sayeth our guidebook. We planned to ride the coastal highway south to Mui Ne where we were meeting friends a few days later from the Cambodian ride for a bit of beach bumming.
It was a gorgeous coastal drive south in the rain across lush green waves of mountains while overlooking bright blue coastlines and scattered islands. We would rise above one crest or clear another twisting curve to find a new array of blues and green softened by the heavy mist. Despite the rain, the roads and fields remained busy. Locals rode bikes, carried heavy loads across their shoulders in baskets hung from bamboo sticks and worked the fields while protected from the rain by cheap colorful ponchos and their signature Vietnamese cone hats.
At a particularly long pit stop, Simone came back from the toilet to see that the driver and his partner have very quietly and secretly taken our bikes from the back of the van and tied them to the roof! I scurried to the top of the minibus like a monkey and played with the ropes while the driver pulled and slapped at my ankles and the locals moaned in the bus. I wasn’t satisfied. I didn’t like it. But again, manhandled, I succumbed to the pressure and climbed back in, swallowing hard to fight the nervous lump in my throat informing me that it was a mistake.
There were more than 35 passengers crammed into the 15 passenger minivan. Simone and I sat like princesses (who paid 3 times the fair rate - not the local rate - plus double for the bikes that were now hanging on for dear life on the rackless roof) and were taking up the entire front seat. Hopeful new passengers looked at us with disdain. It was bittersweet. One lady actually wedged herself into the small space between the driver and the driver side door. But we could breath and we didn’t offer up that air space.
Wham! Crash, boom, scraaaape… An hour later our bikes were dragging behind the bus as we pull off the road to a stop, a litany of colorful curses flying uncontrollably from my mouth. A half dozen suddenly concerned passengers poured out of the back of the bus while we manually removed the driver’s hands from ourselves and our bikes while we inspected and collected the pieces. The rest of the trip was spent discussing our error (trusting your transportation) and how we planned to recover. Ho Chi Minh City perhaps?!
Aside from extensive cosmetic damages, the only real issue is that my front tire is dead, exposing it’s furry white tread guts. As we feared, the local bike shops doesn’t have a replacement. It turns out a 26 inch tire in Vietnam is not the same size as a 26 inch tire in Thailand and America. Don’t try to reason with this point, it wastes time and it just isn’t. I can ride around town on the fuzzy tire but nothing fast or further. We call Orasa, our spunky cool saleslady at the Bangkok bike shop and she expedites a package of new tires and spare tubes to us in Nha Trang. We’re stuck there for 3 days awaiting its arrival.
Sometimes however, when you’re too anxious to go-go-go, a forced rest is the best thing that can happen. We had 2 days sunshine and spent them on the beach. A daily routine developed in Nha Trang - breakfast, beach, lunch, beach, dinner. A tough life. We discovered a magnificent interactive meal experience and ate there twice - a small table top grill (the size and shape of a medium terracotta flower pot) where you cook your own marinated vegetables and shrimp, beef, squid or chicken, then roll your own delectable spring rolls. I will certainly be trying to recreate this dining delight when I return to a home! On a rainy day, we visited a brilliant black and white photography gallery by Vietnam’s renown and talented “slice of life” photographer, Long Thanh.
Five days later, no package. We track it down to Ho Chi Minh City and learn it’s stuck there in customs. Fine, Saigon. You win! We take yet another bus to the beach resort town of Mui Ne for the weekend to see our friends, en route to HCMC to pick up the tire first thing Monday morning.
Mui Ne is cool. The beach is good. No worries. It’s hard to stress with the sound of surf in your ear and sun on your skin. We ate well and cheap, once dining at our same favorite restaurant for all three meals of the day. We celebrated leap year at a ”Bonus Day Party” on the beach. Amazingly during the night, my friend Peppi led a couple of random guys over to our group and amidst shock and awe, I saw that it was some Israeli friends who I traveled with in November through the Annapurna circuit in Nepal! They’ve been in Mui Ne for a month kitesurfing. We toast and laugh at this crazy small world.
Mui Ne has amazing red and white sand dunes which make beautiful sunset playgrounds. One evening our group of six rolled around and frolicked in the warm waves of sand like kids as the sky turned orange and then red. I did a handstand on the edge of a dune and let my feet fall back, rotating about 325 degrees, and my body landed softly in a cloud of red powder. It was lovely. A true simple pleasure. But around this time, my handbag that was sitting in a nearby pile of all our things decided to grow legs and walk away. A few minutes later, it was nowhere to be found. I spent a useless hour trying to communicate with the locals who tried to help and the police who wanted nothing to do with me. The irony at times like these is that nothing of street value has any meaning to me; it’s only the things of no value to others that break my heart… my journal and 3 months of loving memories are gone as well as my photos for the last two months. I’m gutted but that’s life on the road. It happens…
I can’t complain about bad luck though. My passport was at the hotel and I was with friends so I could still get cash despite not having a drop of plastic or currency of any sort. Without my small compact camera, I was forced to drag back out my big heavy thing and use the inspiration I found in the Nha Trang gallery to start enjoying photography and the finer qualities of an SLR again.
(And by the way, I am 100% sure that if I had only put in a little more time and effort, my journal would have found it’s way back to me. I fully believe that life is a balance and it tries to keep the bubble in the center. As such, it would have tried to reunite me and my surely discarded book. That said, the following day I didn’t want to deal with it. It was Sunday, the sun was shining and the police don’t take reports on Sunday. I didn’t get creative about future contact info so when I left Mui Ne on Monday, I left no chance for the joyful reunion. I know that doesn’t mean much to anyone, but that’s just the way I think and another glimpse of my sometimes crazy philosophy. It was the only lingering thought that bothered me long after the fact - I cheated fate of its opportunity to create magical mysterious movements towards its positive state of equilibrium.)
Saigon
So here we are. The cycling girls, loading our bikes on another bus, having never cycled more than a few kilometers around any city in Vietnam! Six hours later, Saigon claims its victory over us. It sucked us in before we planned and held in its grip the components of our glorious freedom!
When feeling defeated, sometimes you have to lick your wounds and treat yourself. We checked in to the chic Renaissance Hotel, towering high above the city (and rolled up on bikes which invoked confused, perplexed and astonished grins on the staff). We took an air conditioned taxi to pick up our package near the airport, spent $16 on a beautiful sushi conveyer belt dinner buffet (carb-loading of course) and then we splurged on the $18 hotel buffet breakfast, feasting on eggs benedict, french toast, cheeeeese, mueslix, cereal, pastries, fresh bread, waffles, banana bread, fruit, omelets and more (again, carb-loading of course, and also stuffed bread rolls and fruit into our handbags like first-timers in the big city).
Mekong Delta
En route south for our four day tour of the Mekong Delta, we left HCMC full and well-rested. But these feelings quickly vanished as we rode out of town amidst loads of heavy smelly traffic and noise pollution. The surgical masks we were wearing were covered in black dust immediately. A day out of the city however, the rivers of the delta unfolded to reveal their calming pace of life, pleasant scenery and rich busy industry. We were back floating high on Cloud Nine!
The first evening we met a retired Dutch couple in Mythos who was also traveling by bike and they gave us a quick bite of “humble pie” and a few good route tips. They had GPS, top quality German maps, Dutch route queue cards and experience on their side. We had no map, a 10 year old poorly photocopied guide book and a few good stories. Like young grasshoppers, we photocopied and photographed their pretty maps and used my markers and highlighters to fix them up. The next day, we profited from their suggestions and rode along one of the most beautiful small backroads of our trip, meandering along rivers, small homes, irrigation canals and tropical fruit orchards. Water was always a stone’s throw away.
The Mekong Delta was blazing hot but full of wonderful surprises. We stopped at a busy coconut processing warehouse and learned about a few more powers of this incredible tropical jewel. Like a pearl, it sometimes grows a baby coconut in the center which tastes perfectly light, crisp and airy. It makes dense pure white coconut oil in its orb, and if you take a spoon someone offers you and go for a scoop thinking your about to get something fresh and sweet, you’ll be sorry. Coconut water can age and start to ferment but still be good. You can drink it from the nut pretty easily without a straw.
Several kilometers later, we dropped in for a visit to the coconut candy factory, where we were given fresh hot chewy melt-in-your-mouth banana-coconut-sesame seed candy sliced fresh off the gooey block before being wrapped by the smiling giggling ladies who invited us in and showed us around.
It was here in the Mekong that I finally understood and accepted the cultural manner of aggressive touchiness that I’ve resisted with the Vietnamese. All the pushing and shoving is just another form of communication, often strained with Westerners. It comes in all forms and after tipping over on my bike one day (a slow, long, can’t-get-your-feet-out-of-the-peddle-fast-enough type that looks really funny), I received the most sincere set of love/care/concern slaps from a random lady passing by. Through mime and several severe smacks she communicated the following:
“Look at you all dirty in the hot sun! Of course you fall over, it’s too hot. (Whack(!!) on the arm.) Too much traffic, not good. Look at this nice tree, get in the shade crazy girl. (Double smack on the back.) Not even wearing sleeves. You’re skin turning all ugly and brown! Look at this sand on the side of the road, it’s slippery. Make you fall down. (Pinch at the waist.) At least be careful on your silly bikes! (Big final smack on my sandy brown and red arm.)”
So with that exchange I realized, it all comes with love. Maybe because they love to rattle your chain, maybe because they love to throw out big demonstrative emotions, maybe because they think you’re just another white annoying tourist with money falling out of your pockets or maybe because they’d love to tell you how it is but can’t find the words. But it’s not personal and it would be much more tragic if the Vietnamese we met didn’t even care enough to hit us with love!
After two weeks in Vietnam, starved for the black bittimen roads and wind, we were ecstatic to be back on the bike. Everything was a delight: the multiple ferry crossing (four times in one day), the random unexpected discovery stops, the pit stops where toilets were used as a flowerpots not places to sit (a fashion seriously seen twice in the region), the other pit stop where you basically “feed the catfish” as you go, the intense focus required to survive out-of-control traffic and the pure exhaustion felt after a long satisfying day in the saddle.
Saigon
Back in Ho Chi Minh City, we spent two days in the backpacker district taking care of admin stuff and relaxing. We emailed a local Belgian “couchsurfer” (a very cool new phenomenon I recently discovered and would recommend to anyone looking for a more interesting, inside way to discover a city or to meet fresh new people in your own city, www.couchsurfing.com). We met him for a drink one night, had a great leisurely dinner at a sidewalk cafe and then found ourselves dancing the night away in flipflops at a swank local expat discoteque party.
Not wanting to waste more time with our bikes locked in a corner and anxious to finally attack some mountains, we left two days later for Dalat, a popular southern hill station. The night before we left, a friend whom we’d just seen in Mui Ne randomly walked up to us outside a bar in HCMC and said hello (”fancy meeting you here…”). He had just returned from Dalat and gave it rave reviews, furthering our growing excitement.
Central Highlands
Again however, we were on a bus - because, this time, we didn’t want to disrespect our lungs and repeat our dirty stinky scurry out of the big city. As always, the mountains are energizing and we loved the long days spent fighting tough 10% grade climbs lined with coffee plantations, garden and orchards then soaring down the other side. It was surprisingly hot and sunny and colors always sing and pop in the crisp altitude.
We spent one day resting in Dalat and then turned our sights back to the central highlands heading northwest to make a “crazy eight” pattern heading back in the direction of Kon Tom. We had been sick over the last fews days but were anxious to ride. We took an alternate route that took us through Nam Ban where we visited a silk factory and a large waterfall accessed by a slippery jungle-like path. As we covered the kilometers we could sense the scenery and the culture changing to more mountains and minority villages, as we expected to see in the north. In Lak, we feasted on an original take to our much-loved Mekong pancakes: a thin corn-based crepe filled with bean sprouts, dried shrimp and cilantro and eaten by pieces which are rolled in fresh lettuce stuffed with more fantastic pungent fresh herbs then dipped in chili fish sauce. 
After a long 120km day, we also ate a whole roasted chicken, which came as an entertaining surprise to the vendors and locals who usually just serve small shredded pieces in rice soup. We finished our tour of the south in Buon Ma Thout where we departed on our first flight with the bikes, direct to Hanoi.
I think this is the longest that I’ve spent in a country battling such a language barrier. In all my past experience, it’s been relatively easy to find English speakers or quickly establish a common ground or mutual understanding. This leaves me here with a lingering and frustrating sense of “us and them.” Our roles feel a bit too clear. That said, I’ve begun to understand these limitations and learned how to work within them. In that way, I believe I’ve grown more here in terms of tolerance and acceptance than anywhere else. And no doubt, it can be a painful process!
So at last, I’ve made peace with this place. To be confronted with cultural challenges that stretch your outer limits and move you past them is one of the great benefits of travel. I feel like I’ve fought at the frontier here and can now sit beneath my white peace flag and enjoy an iced coffee and a slap on the back with my challengers. I’ve experienced a few shades and tones of the Vietnamese psyche. They will then smile at me and charge me too much. We’ll dance the dance and both walk away feeling slightly cheated by our partner but a bit satisfyingly wiser than they think we are.
The south is made up of proud, strong entrepenuers who have often fought for and held tight to everything that should be theirs. Sometimes this includes the money in your pocket. They will put their feet, fingers and nose in the space that we call “comfort zone.” In such a densely populated country, they live and breath in this gap. They live well, making a garden terrace out of a busy sidewalk or a full specialty shop out of a bamboo stick and baskets. It is a time when they can freely use their innate commercialism genes for the biggest best profit. They’ve been perfecting this game for ages. Victim, buyer or sucker is your move. It’s their game. Don’t fight the rules, just smile and learn to play.
Next up… The North!
Again, most of my photos from this period have disappeared. I was slow to get out my big SLR and it’s been difficult to manage while on a bike! However, I have taken some images (though I seem to be still reacquainting myself with my SLR and photography in general) and collected others from friends…
- 24 Feb - 02 Mar : Vietnam, The Coast (Nha Trang & Mui Ne)
- 03 Mar - 09 Mar : Vietnam, Mekong Delta & Ho Chi Minh City
- 10 Mar - 16 Mar : Vietnam, Central Highlands (Dalat to Buon Ma Thout and a few from Kon Tom which was February 22-23)
If you would like to see any other older photo sets, I’ve made updates to the Photo Gallery Page as well.