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We were supposed to spend only one night in Dalat, but in all we were there for almost a week, including a detour back to Saigon for two days (we left the bikes at the hotel in Dalat and took the bus). When we got back to Dalat I got food poisoning and was bed ridden for the day. From Dalat the plan was to take the new mountain road to Nha Trang on the coast. The next day, already well behind schedule, we left too late, got lost, and had to turn back. On our third attempt, we finally got our s*** together and found the right road. We were told it was a hard one to find, and that's no lie. But where there's a will there's a way, and the way for us was Google Maps. Back in Saigon I bought a Vietnam road atlas, which so far has proved to be f***ing useless. None of the new roads are on it. Instead I had to draw a basic map by hand at the internet cafe.
The new road took us from the highlands to the coast, via one hell of a spectacular mountain pass. We emerged from the clouds and on a drop-away bend the valley opened up and we could see all the way to the coast from vertigo-inducing heights. We turned off our engines and spent the next hour or so rolling to the bottom around hair-pin turns and switchbacks as the mercury edged its way back up and the layers came off piece by piece.
We stopped for some iced tea at the bottom in a roadside cafe made of bamboo. They didn't serve food but Dan insisted anyway, thereby learning an important lesson: if they don't advertise it, don't ask for it. A family of chickens waddled past and Dan thought it would be funny to ask the cafe owner to eat one. Through mime, of course. The owner laughed and we all had a chuckle and the moment passed and we forgot about it, Then as we were about to get the bill and leave, out comes the cafe owner's son with a platter. In the time it took us to slurp a bowl of noodles, they'd killed, plucked, and boiled Dan's chicken and here it was on a platter. The whole damn thing. It's head was still attached and they'd put its organs in a small plastic bag to the side along with its feet (which are considered a delicacy here). There was no worming out of this one. I wanted nothing to do with it. Dan ordered it, so he could eat the thing himself and damn well pay for it. They wanted 300,000 for it, which equates to about $15. Not bad for a whole chicken when you think about it, but over here that's big money, That's probably more than this cafe would earn in a week. Dan was out of dong and so, grudgingly, I found myself paying for it out of the last of my own, with a blood oath to have it paid back to me in full when we got to Nha Trang. He stuffed the whole thing into a plastic bag, wrapped it in a raincoat, and carefully squashed it into his bag on the bike and we went on our merry way now that dinner was sorted for the next couple of nights.
When making an undertaking such as this, one has to keep reminding oneself that things go wrong, and even the best thought-out plans can be thwarted by providence. Or bad weather. Or landslides. In my case, it was an engine on the fritz. The Honda WIN, while often a fun bike to ride, is notorious for breaking down. A lot. This had happened to me once already in Dalat. And it chose to happen again, here, in the middle of nowhere, still hours from Nha Trang. Something burnt out and my bike refused to start. Dan was way ahead, and so I found myself pushing my bike in the afternoon heat past steam rollers and earth movers as they worked on ripping up the road. Dan finally got my desperate text for help and found me, drenched in sweat, stoically pressing forward with the bike. A work crew took pity on me and helped us to call a mobile mechanic, whose phone number was conveniently painted on the guard rail. They gave us sugar cane to chew on while we waited for repairs, and in between moving mounds of asphalt and pressing new road came over to chat with us. It occurred to me that we may not have enough money left to pay the mechanic. Would he accept a whole chicken as payment? I never got to find out. Dan ate the entire thing and I gave the mechanic the last of my money, which was still more than he had asked for, but which I was more than happy to give and be back on the road.
When we finally reached Nha Trang we were only supposed to stay for a night at most, then throw our bikes on the train and skip ahead to Hoi An to make up for lost time. But then we sat on the beach. And we liked it. So we stayed in Nha Trang. And three days on, we were still there. People say a lot of s*** about Nha Trang, but it really isn't all that bad. "Stay as far away from there as you can." "It's not the 'real' Vietnam." But what the f*** is that supposed to mean, anyway? What's so bad about drinkng cheap beer and eating lobster on the beach?
Check out my latest travel pics at http://www.flickr.com/photos/tayn3/
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