Asian diary part two...
After our Vietcong tunnel trip we booked onto a two day trip down to the Mekong delta. It started with the usual South East Asian efficiency when too many people were booked onto the coach. This left a group of five welsh guys with nowhere to sit. Fortunately the call went out and soon a man returned with some children's plastic stools for them. Not a comfortable three hour journey for them I can't imagine.
We cruised along the delta on a small boat, led by our part tour guide, part terrible stand up comedian An. We visited a coconut candy factory and a honey tea shop where I believe the idea was people would purchase some of the wares. We did not, but that didn't stop us sampling our fair share of them. We also went to a cafe where we sat awkwardly as Vietnamese women sang traditional songs to us, and also a bizarre rendition of if you're happy and you know it and auld lang syne.
The four of us and a German guy were the only five to have opted for the home stay accommodation option, and after this was established, we were unceremoniously dumped on the side of the state highway. We were forced to then cross it on foot to a group of awaiting mopeds. However, there weren't enough for all of us to go at once, so John, the German (Jan), and I hopped on the back of them, and sped off, leaving Emily and Alex in the safe hands of an eleven and thirteen year old, next to one of the busiest roads in Vietnam. My driver had clearly decided that it was a race to the home stay and promptly overtook the other drivers, several cows and terrified pedestrians. I arrived a good ten minutes before the others and waited patiently for them to slowly arrive.
Em and Alex turned up with a good story. After waiting about three minutes, the kids decided they could guide people home and set off with instructions to follow. After detouring to play hide and seek in some half-built houses, which sounded a lot like Alex just chasing children about, they finally joined us for dinner.
The youngest child, Can, became our guide, translator and entertainment for the evening, controlling card games, magic tricks and generally being very amusing. We had an early start the next day and rejoined the rest of our tour group to visit a floating market. However, this turned out not to be the quaint affair we were expecting, with small boats taking you to shops selling hand-made souvenirs etc. Instead we were taken to a wholesale fruit and veg market, not quite what we had been led to believe.
The end of the trip was as haphazard as the beginning, after sampling local delicacies for lunch (rat), we were split up on our coaches home after much shouting and one bus driver just giving up and leaving. We arrived back in Ho Chi Minh and prepared for what was sure to be a horrible night bus experience to dalat. How wrong we were. The bus was on time, modern and comfortable. We each had a bunk bed seat and, despite the wail of the greatest hits of boney M in the background, we all managed to get some sleep, arriving in the mountains of Dalat, refreshed and ready to explore.
Dalat is a cool little place with plenty of waterfalls to explore nearby. Unfortunately, the transport method of choice is a moped. For those not aware of my checkered past with the common bicycle, it is not what could be described as a match made in heaven. Having decided that it wasn't for me, John kindly agreed to let me be his passenger, whilst twigs and Em braved it alone. This went about as well as expected to begin with, with twiggy managing to fall off in the first five minutes and us all getting separated at the first roundabout. However, from then on it was plain sailing, with everyone taking to mopeds like a duck to pancakes, I had even managed to get the hang of 'leaning', to prevent my added weight from toppling the bike over on every corner. We stopped at the biggest waterfall nearby and had a look around. There was a disappointing toboggan ride there and an unnecessary cable car, but the waterfall was reasonably pretty. After watching the other three novices take to riding the bike, as easily as, well, riding a bike, I thought the car park of the waterfall would be the ideal place to try my hand at it. I gave it a good go, making it almost five meters before stalling it, failing to turn, and putting my feet on the floor and giving up. The hell's angels shouldn't expect my application any time soon. In the car park of the next waterfall we met a group of fellow travellers and we decided to form our own motorcycle gang and head to a further out site. After only a few stops to check the map we made it, and it was definitely worth it. We climbed all the way up through the waterfall to stand under its main torrent which was incredible. The journey back was also eventful, we ended up driving along a toll highway, where mopeds are not allowed. This led to some sketchy moment whenever a car drove past, none of us wanting to end up in a Vietnamese prison. Luckily the fact that I was a passenger rather than a driver enabled me to focus on scenery rather than the road, and I managed to spot a small side road through a village that we darted down and avoided the police blockade by about 500m.
We have decided that unfortunately Dalat is not really a dog-friendly environment. Having witnessed one get run over on one day, the following day we saw one for sale on the side of the road. This dog was evidentially not just for Christmas, it was clearly for Sunday dinner, being as it was cut up into small sections.
Our next bus to nha trang was also decent enough and we made it there in the early evening and headed out. After a few signature buckets and cocktails its kind of hard to say what happened the rest of the evening. The only things I can be sure of is that twigs and myself managed to get lost on the one street route home, accosted by prostitutes trying to pickpocket us, and offered a wide variety of the finest drug offerings nha trang could muster. The next day was predictably lethargic, lazing on the beach all day. And in true British fashion managed to crisp up at the first sign of sun.
That evening we had a night bus to Hoi An. We had nothing to fear, we were experienced night-busserers (new word) by now, what could possibly go wrong. Well, it turns out, everything. Whilst the back rows of most school buses are reserved for the cool kids, the back row of a sleeper bus is clearly reserved for anorexics who don't feel heat. But alas, we were the lucky winners of seat roulette, and that's where we ended up. Crammed in alongside each other, the four of us (plus a random Vietnamese man) settled in to try and sleep through the thunderstorm outside, whilst not succumbing to heat exhaustion. At the top of one of the large hills outside of nha trang we hit some issues, namely the bus being unable to make it any further, and the clutch smelling very badly. However, it seemed to make it through okay, and we made it down the mountainside slowly but surely, and came to a stop in a petrol station in the middle of nowhere. No problem, we thought, a routine toilet stop and we all piled off the bus. However, soon it became clear all was not well. It turns out at the top of the hill the clutch had completely given in, and we had actually just coasted downhill for almost an hour. A mechanic was called, no one came. A replacement bus was ordered, to no avail. The highlight of this wait was when the group above us awoke two hours into our delay after a valium induced sleep, and were hilariously disorientated, serves them right for spilling coke on me four times that night. All in all we spent a total of twelve hours in this petrol station, so long in fact we actually witnessed it change ownership and put up new signs and branding. By the end we had all developed a soft spot for. With its angry mosquitos, complete lack of any food or drinks and outside toilets. Sure it was a dilapidated old craphole, but it was ours. Ask anyone who has travelled Asia, you haven't seen anything until you see the sunrise over a petrol pump. That my friends, is real Vietnam.
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