Before even arriving in Dalat with no prior tour organized both Michelle and I wanted to do a tour of some description. For us, organised private tours served as the perfect orientation for a city, and ensured that we at least got a taste of the highlights, with the option time permitting to return for seconds. Upon our checkin yesterday, as our butler Hong escorted us to our villa she asked if we desired doing a tour while we were here. Not having any literature on us about the variety of tours Dalat had to offer we both responded with the same vague ‘sure’ response, hoping Hong would provide further information. Without going into a list of tours, Hong immediately suggested the city tour; knowing from previous experiences that a city tour was usually the best orientation tour for a new town we agreed.
Once checked in, we immediately headed back out into town for lunch and supplies, so it wasn’t until much later that night that I began browsing through all of the literature that the hotel had on hand, including a rather thick booklet on tours. My heart sunk, I had not expected so many interesting tours to of been on offer, there was everything from various hiking tours (which since Sapa, I had become rather obsessed with) through to specialty tours such as the flower markets and touring the vast coffee plantation; two international exports that Dalat is famous for. It was too late to change anything now, so I pledged with myself that when we return to Vietnam we will spend more time in Dalat to indulge in some of these tours.

I am terrible when it comes to names, unless I attempt to associate the name of a person with some funny characteristic of themselves or attempt to bring the name into conversation a hand full of times, it goes in one ear and out the other. Our previous guides, two in particular had easy names to remember, Wiy (wee) our guide from Hue to Hoi An, made the joke to please not refer to him as wee-wee. Another Bi (bee) making a similar remark that his name was in no way related to a buzzing bee. These little anecdotes made their names instantly lock in my mind, and for that reason, I cannot recall the name of our Dalat tour guide, his name not memorable in anyway. Our Dalat guide, for arguments sake we’ll call him John had no real agenda for our city tour, as it seemed to be more something our butler had dreamt up. He offered us a few suggestions of places to check out but was clearly open to suggestions, seizing the opportunity I suggested the coffee plantation and the flower fields, John was more than happy to accommodate this, and so our tour commenced.

We did the traditional visit to a pagoda, something we had come accustomed to on every Vietnamese tour thus far and ventured out to various public gardens and flower green-house plantations, observing the process from growing the flowers to packaging them for international transport. We then headed out to the coffee plantation, unfortunately our visit was out of season, had we been in season we could of indulged in a more thorough guide of the plantation as well as sampling the various types of coffee, much like you would an Australian winery. The coffee beans here were also exported internationally, but it is all in the brewing and roasting that makes Vietnam coffee unique to the western world. Stopping on a gravel track off the main road, our guide ahead of us we snuck into a coffee plantation. Come to think of it, that has happened everywhere we’ve been; there had never been a question of seeking permission, we trespassed everywhere. Since the land of Vietnam is all owned by the government and leased to the people for lifelong durations, perhaps there was no harm in trespassing?

The beans were very much small and green with just a few trees possessing ready to harvest red coloured pods, our guide quickly pulling some from the tree and popping the pods in his fingers revealing the all familiar coffee beans.

Our tour ended with a trip to the local train station. The station once a major transportation route from the highlands to the coast now only ran a 7km stretch to a neighbouring town ever since the rail to the coast was damaged by B52’s in the war. Back in its day a steam locomotive ran the course. Today, the same locomotive rests, carriages connected at platform one, while is younger replacements; two diesel engines run the 7km stretch multiple times a day, the carriages they pull looking like they had come straight off the locomotive’s. The station was completely run down and not really much to look at, but it was clear our guide saw it differently insisting us to take photos of it from every angle as if it was Miranda Kerr on the catwalk. In fairness though it was currently under massive renovation, so hopefully the next time we visit I can go a bit silly with the camera, living up to the locals hopes.

With our tour over, probably the longest and most thorough tour we had ever been on, given the creative input we were invited to contribute we headed back to our villa. A small part of me disappointed that we hadn’t taken the opportunity to push harder on what was our last major stop. Unfortunately though, having not slept well the last few nights, suffering fevers and stomach cramps my body was forcing me to slow down and in a mixed turn of emotion I conceded. Our stay in Dalat was quite brief, and from the look of the tours and attractions our villa had listed, Dalat still had a significant amount to offer but I was satisfied that at the very least we had a brief but thorough introduction to Dalat.

Feeling a bit more chipper by the time we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, our one night, fly-in-fly-out stop, Michelle and I wasted no time and hit the local street markets which Michelle had fondly remembered from our last visit two years earlier. To my dismay, I was like a fish out of water, and it wasn’t until we were walking back to our hotel some hours later from the markets ready to retire for the night that I finally got my bearings.

Although Michelle got her bearings as soon as she set foot on the pavement outside of our hotel, we both agreed that the city had grown incredibly over the past few years, emerging itself as a twenty year-a-go Singapore. The streets were lined with a mixture of boutique shopping malls and local markets selling plenty of lacquer ware and tourist items. The markets were just as busy as I remembered, fortunately, unlike the locals whom wouldn’t of been able to see more than two people deep the tall westerners that we are (well, tall by asian standards) could see out and beyond the sea of bobbing black haired heads to the various stalls within the markets. Knowing that we each had a few extra kilos of luggage allowance to play with and a few hundred thousand dong left in our pockets we set out to buy up some last minute items.

Sure enough, just as we had experienced when we arrived in Moscow from St Petersburg, which we had presumed would be the dearer of the two for tourist items we were wrong again, passing by stalls of markets, each market practically representing a location we had visited, be it Sapa, Hoi An, Hue, all offering the items we had already purchased at these places for a fraction of the cost. At the end of the day though, there was nothing left to do but shrug it off and laugh, and perhaps buy an additional item, since the savings we’re talking about, of 50 to 60% off at the end of the day mean a mere $2 AUD off a $4AUD item – hardly worth shedding tears over.

With the last of our shopping done and with me chasing down a replacement padlock for the one I had incidentally left in Dalat we ventured to an old fav western style cafe for dinner. Although this trip we ate an INCREDIBLE amount of local cuisine (in some cases rather questionable) we were not against falling back from time to time to the more familiar western food selection. Almost considered a comfort food in a way, both Michelle and I longed for a specific western dish during the course of the trip, and whenever the opportunity arised we had seized it. For me it was KFC, there was nothing not to like of Vietnam KFC. For one, the KFC venues were far flashier than their western counterparts; food was presented on a nice labelled KFC oval shaped plate rather than the cardboard boxes we’re accustomed to back home with no change whether you’re dining in our out. The chicken tasted brilliant, not as greasy or oily as the western cooked chicken, and the fries – the holy grail of the meal were a perfect combination – McDonalds style fries with the seasoning of KFC’s fries and if that isn’t enough to convince my point, a meal cost 50,000 dong, just over $4.50 AUD. Being the only fast food giant out of the usual suspects to make it to Vietnam, we were lucky to encounter it in Hanoi and it became our regular lunch in Nha Trang, whether we were hungry or not.

Michelles meal of choice, and indeed worship was the good-old traditional burger. Similar to KFC, Michelle was on a good roll having found burgers on most menus wherever we went allowing her the freedom to choose between western and Asian cuisine. Unfortunately she was scared by a burger venture in Hoi An, the morning of the Photo Tour where we had worked up a rather incredible appetite having being up since 4.45am, skipped breakfast and ridden about 7km back into town. The beef burger that she was presented with was miserable to say the least, the thick juicy meat patty reduced to a few shavings of meat which look like they’d been hanging around for a while. Ever since that point, burgers were off the menu with her goal set on Burger King at Singapore Airport.

Although I wasn’t quick on the uptake as to recalling where everything was in Ho Chi Minh like Michelle was, I did recall that the menu at the western restaurant we were dining in was safe; having given it the two thumbs up of approval the last time we were there. So despite the burger fiasco in Hoi An, I immediately ordered the burger. Michelle on the other hand, still being cautious ordered pork with rice. Sure enough my burger came out, and as one would expect it was perfectly formed. Michelle glanced at me with a long face, looking across at my juicy burger then down at her average looking pork and rice. Softening the blow I bit into my burger, and after washing my mouth with a sip of Pepsi, shrugged Michelle’s way and said ‘it’s alright.’ Little did she know that it was possibly one of the best burgers I had ever eaten.

With our Jetstar flight now coming in for landing into Singapore, it seems appropriate to wrap this travel entry up, until the next international escapade.

“So on that bombshell” as Jeremy Clarkson would say, this is the end of the show… until next time.. good night!

[roll credits – queue music]

Goals Completed
- Ride an elephant in Thailand (05/11/11; Chiang Mai, Thailand)
- Swim naked and/or a nude beach (05/24/11; Hoi An, Vietnam)
- Ride a Vespa and/or Segway (04/12/11; Beijing, China)

Goals For The Trip
- Spend the night somewhere unexpected
- Check out a sporting event
- See a historical site when nobody else is there
- Try a new sport
- Hitchhike somewhere
- Ride in a helicopter
- Avoid prison
- Fall in love and/or become a dad
- (Try to) speak the local language in every country
- Do something that gets me truly scared
- Play at least one round of golf
- Get lost
- Try a new food each month (actually a big deal for me)
- Do the running of the bulls
- If injured by bull, have a clip of it make Tosh.0
- Get a tattoo
- Be adventurous
- Do some on-the-spot volunteer work throughout the trip
Swim naked
- Spend a day with someone that doesn’t speak ANY English
- Give up my seat
- Walk at least 20 miles (total) through the rainforest
- Get a deep tissue massage
- Avoid being kidnapped
- Travel at least 35,000 miles
- See a castle
- Lose 20 pounds (started at 174 pounds) (May, 23rd: 163)
- Keep in touch with someone from each country
- Get kicked off a train
- Setup a network of friends from all over to start my world domination
- See at least 60 UNESCO World Heritage Sites
- Keep a travel blog

Hi everyone, we are off again on another trip around Asia. This time the exchange rate is in our favour – in Vietnam we are getting 22,000 dong to the AUD. When we first started coming to Vietnam in 2003 we were getting 11,000 dong to the AUD! Everything is now so incredibly cheap now. A special hello to Tebby and Brian in Mexico, and Robyn and Gene who should be in Thailand by now. Sorry we have been so remote in the last couple of months but we have run into very serious trouble with what is left of our investments – we now have a rogue fund manager who is shredding us and the regulators will do nothing about it, and after 2 years in the Federal Court we have only just reached step one in our class action. God knows what’s going to happen. Any way we are trying to make the best of this trip as it will be our last for some time.

After an unremarkable “cattle class” Jetstar flight Sydney to Saigon via the holding pens in Darwin, we arrived late at night at the new Saigon terminal.

Saigon is hot but mostly dry. Stayed in the Lan Anh hotel for the last time – we found a better one off De Tham Street with a small pool for $20. We shopped and toured all the regular restaurants, did a Sheraton buffet and was surprised to see that Quan An Ngon has reopened in 4 storey splendour. While Rob had a violent bout of food poisoning for a night after seafood fried rice, we can still recommend the restaurant. There is even a Subway outlet now in Pham Ngam Lao. Beers are cheap at under $0.50 AUD a glass.

Took a Sinh Tourist bus to Nha Trang, where we stayed 1 week in Phu Quy 2 (booked on Agoda for $23AUD) and found the Than Sang Hotel a few doors up, where we have a large room on the 11th floor with panoramic views of the bay and town for $18.95AUD. It also has a pool on the 12th floor.

Nha Trang has really developed with many more restaurants and bars. In between swimming at Lousianne pool and at the beach, we have spent our time stuffing our faces on seafood, Mexican, Italian, French,
Jetstar Flight
Cattle Class!Spanish, Indian and Vietnamese food. Everything is cheap – Baileys is $10.74AUD a bottle, French wines $6 and beers $0.50 – and that’s not duty free, it is just the 7/11 store prices!

We are here for another week then off to Hoi An by train on 31st for a week or more then on to Hanoi and China.

Not alot to do apart from beach, there was a cable car to a five star resort on the island but given that we’re on a budget.

The day started early but sluggish, with both of us possibly on the verge of a cold and our pillows too hard, the last few nights sleep in Nha Trang has been a struggle, usually requiring the air conditioning ramped up to numb the senses like putting a crab in ice cold water before cooking it. After breakfast our IndoChina guide, Bi (pronounced Bee) was waiting for us in the lobby, the company not having had a demand for tours to Dalat before were not really sure what to do about our request, so the first part of our 150km (four hour falljourney) was spent down the road in the old part of Nha Trang viewing some rather lovely Pagodas. Though Michelle and I were both well and truely pagodaed out by this time in our trip, I did find these ones particularly interesting. Like their cousins that we visited less than a week earlier in My Son, this pagoda had had some renovation work done on it in the 12th century, and like the renovations in My Son, the renovations on appearance were more weathered and worse for wear than the original architecture. Our guide Bi admitted, they had no idea how to reproduce the original walls which dated back to the 8th century.

The road to Dalat was a long and windy one, as we got closer to the top of the mountain range you could see the toll the wet season had on the roads; in some sections the roads had been washed away, leaving our 4×4 transfer to make its own path, clinging to the cliff wall, making as much room between us and the cliff edge as possible. In other instances recent land and mud slides had now crept onto the road way, again making navigating them difficult for anything other than a motorbike or four wheel drive, my Lancer would of had no hope.

Looking deceptionally close to Nha Trang, Dalat was only a 130km drive, but with a average speed of 40kmph, our lowest being when the speed limit changed to 30, the drive was long and arduous. The panoramic mountainous view though were second to none, you could only possibly top it off if the mountains were snow capped, which in Sapa, during the winter, they are.

We arrived at our accommodation around noon, our butler, a young Vietnamese woman named Hong was there to greet us. Unlike all the other accommodation on this trip through Vietnam which had all been hotel based, this place was a conglomeration of villas, all connected by a medieval styled cobblestoned path. We are nestled high in the mountain range of Dalat, looking straight ahead from out on the balcony, below in the distance is the Dalat township, to the left of me, irrigated farmland, growing cabbages, beyond this and array of green houses responsible for providing the vegetables and extensive range of flowers that Dalat exports, along with its coffee, and on the cusp
Caught in the actof the horizon, mountain range. Best of all, the weather here is a cool, refreshing 19 to 22 degrees Celsius, incredibly welcoming from the scorching near arid climate of coastal Vietnam.

The locals would say that this was nearing their quiet season as the weather between now and September simply gets too hot for most western tourists to comfortably tolerate. Between September and October travel, especially to coastal town sites such as Hoi An are not recommended with flooding easily reaching as high as three or four meters. The rest of the year is the typical western tourist season, with the usual quick influxes of tropical rainfall lasting an hour at most, with clear skies thereafter. Although the intense but short rain cycle can be somewhat irritating when unprepared, since you do get soaked to the bone before you can even pull out an umbrella, I think our next return to Vietnam may be a tad earlier than May, the rain is a small price to pay to avoid the scorching summer months. Whilst on the roll for travel advice, sunscreen is a rare commodity in Vietnam. Only taking a very small tube over with us, we didn’t come across sun screen until discovering the shopping mall in Nha Trang. So as far as tips go, here are the footnotes: make sure you bring some Agent Orange strength mozzie repellent, plenty of sunscreen, comfortable cotton long pants and long sleeve shirt, leather shoes, a hat and a satchel; not only will you look hip and cool like Indiana Jones but you’ll be ready for anything.

Having checked into our villa accommodation, our priorities shifted to the next urgent thing, food. Taking a cab into town, and feeling rather like old salts at navigating our way through the mayhem of Vietnamese cities we dropped ourselves right in the middle of the Chinatown markets and fanned out from there becoming acquainted with our surroundings until spotting a small cafe tucked away between two streets and deciding to plant our flag there for lunch. Michelle ordered the cautionary fries, and forgetting my surroundings lunged straight in and ordered the stirfry noodles and seafood. It wasn’t until the order was placed and our waitress had gone that it dawned on me; hang on, I am in the middle of the god damned mountains, where the hell is the seafood coming from? Knowing the answer was by car, very unlikely a refrigerated car at that, my heart sank. I had been too used to fine seafood the past week and a half as we travelled along Vietnams coast, I hope I haven’t blundered the experience by ordering it from the mountain top. Our food came out, my careful eye scanning the seafood for any sign of unrest; it was fine and tasted delicious. Counting my blessings I enjoyed what I decided was to be my last Dalat seafood dish, with intention to order the specialties of Dalat for future meals.

The markets were enjoyable, but after a while the markets of Vietnam all start to blur, and distinction between them becomes hazy at best; it was your typical Chinatown of a market, novelty tourist items as you entered in with the scenery slowly changing to more of a food market, with fresh produce splayed out left right and centre; the market for the locals. Having acquired a few cans of Pepsi for mixing, and knowing that tomorrows tour involved a city orientation, which we were dangerously close to making redundant we decided to head back to our villa to relax and enjoy the tranquillity of our surroundings.

Sapa is the most visited tourist destination in Vietnam, which surprised me somewhat, as I hadn’t really heard of it until we started planning out stay in the country. In essence it is a small town on a hillside, that until 10 years ago had less than 20 hotels. Now, there are over 100. The town centre is historically the meeting point (and trading point) for the surrounding hill tribes, but is now more of a holding pen for thousands of tourists wanting to visit the aforementioned tribes.

On the first moring, whilst tucking into a breakfast of fried bread buns and noodles (better than it sounds) it started to rain. And it continued to rain, with an anger and ferrocity of biblical proportions, for about the next two hours. Not to worry, we had our expensive walking shoes and rain coats to protect us.

Hmmmm.

We hiked, or rather surfed, about 2km down the hillside to Cat Cat Village, the closest tribal village to Sapa. These villages on the hillside rely on rice for income, and until recently had no running water, no electricity and only water buffalo to help them. The village lies in a valley, and as a result the rice isn’t grown in traditional paddys, but rather in rice terraces – stepped narrow fields if you will, that cover the hillside. The effect is magical when the sun shines (so I am told, it was still raining when we got there), and even through the haze of low lying cloud and torrential rain, it was an amazing sight. We wandered through the village, stopping to admire the handiwork of the locals, who subsidise their rice income by selling all kinds of embroidered bags, scarfes and clothes. Most of the houses were simple wooden huts, made from bamboo primarily, although some were coated in mud that had baked hard in the sun. Most were no more than 12ft byt 12ft, but as you will see from the photo further down this page, the locals are slightly smaller than average!

In the afternoon, the rain having abated, we wandered round Sapa itself. The town is dominated by the market, local traders come to exchange goods, and the more entrepreneurial ones hawk all manner of embroided goods at double the price you pay in the village. There is also a rather perplexing sight in the centre of Sapa, namely a catholic church, built by the French who also built a hydroelectric power station nearby. As a result, many of the tribespeople have catholic leanings, and some of the older generation still speak French to this day. All in all it is a pleasant town, though if you are here for more than an afternoon you might want to bring a book. Or a crossword or two.

The following day we were up early again, pulled on our thoroughly sodden walking gear, and made our way out through the rain (not quite as heavy) to visit another 3 tribal villages. This time the weather cleared up before we arrived. The approach to the villages was a sight to behold, we rounded a corner on a dirt road and found ourselves at the top of the rice terraces, the village stretched out before us on the valley floor. We made our way tentatively, and muddily, down the rices terraces and onto the valley floor and then continued our walk for the rest of the day. It was beautiful, despite the weather, and the almost incessant cries of “buy from me, buy from me” as we made our way through two different tribal villages.

There are numerous tribes in the hills of northern Vietnam, some spread over the border into Laos, which was only 50 miles or so, while the Chinese border lay 30 miles in the opposite direction. Their way of life is simple and unpretentious to say the least, but all that is beginning to change. Now, thanks to the influx of tourists, the Vietnamese government has funded road building, electricty pylons and a fresh water supply to the villages. Our guide explained that as a result of tourism the lives of the villagers were getting better, which I suppose on some levels they are. But my question to her, which I refrained from asking, is what heappens when their lives “improve” to such an extent that the tourists no longer come?

The signs are already there to be honest, the idyllic rural life of rice farmers and buffalo herdsman is indeed an attraction to people like me, wandering around the globe with the intention of experiencing different cultures and ways of life. But it is a very short step from fresh water and electriicity to satellite TV, mobile phones and tabloid magazines, and if I really wanted to go see people living a simpler version of my own life, albeit speaking another language and with little awareness for technoligcal development or the outside world, well Lancashire isn’t that hard to get to nowadays….

Côn Sơn is the largest island of the archipelago with airport and town. The distance from airport to town is 15km. I hired a local motorbike driver to show me around the island during my stay. We spent the first day going to the Cape of Shark (Cá Mập point), Nhát beach and Bến Đầm port (fishing village & boats). We also reached the ending point of road on the island. The landscape along the way was amazing as you see my photos.

Next day, I visited all historical sites, such as Côn Đảo museum, Phú Hải camp, Phú Tường camp (French tiger cages), Phú Bình camp (American tiger cages), cow raising area (a ditch in which Communist Party members were
Bến Đầm portdunk in cow’s urine and shit), Ma Thiên Lãnh bridge and Hàng Dương cemetery. At Côn Đảo museum, there is a letter in French language, in which the French announced their official rule of Côn Lôn archipelago (old name of Côn Đảo) in 1862. During the French war, Côn Sơn island was used as a prison for opponents of French colonialism. There were 39 French who managed the archipelago during 1862 – 1954. The prison was then taken over and used by the South Vietnamese government from 1954 to 1975 (American war) and there were 14 Vietnamese governors during this period. In both French and American wars, the opponents were jailed and tortured in horrifying conditions. Because of remoteness of the island, prisoners couldn’t escape to the mainland. After the country was reunified in 1975, some of these communist prisoners became the leaders of Vietnam.

Before this trip I thought it must have been hard for me to walk through this prison and seeing all types of torture. When I visited the sites, there was only me because my visit was on normal day (Tuesday) and there were no other tourists. Thanks to the local guides at the sites,
Bến Đầm port, Côn Đảo – May 2011
A boat is going to leave Côn Đảo for Vũng Tàu city in Vietnam’s mainland. It takes 12 hours to travel by this boat, while it takes only 40 minutes by air plane (ATR72).I could be brave enough to see all the camps and I also learned many things from them. I have arranged prison photos at the end of my blog as some people may not want to see them.

On my last day of the trip, I met an old lady at Côn Đảo market when I had breakfast. She said she has lived there for 50 years. When she fist came to the island in the 1960s, there were only prisoners. It took her family two years to get a permit and live on the island as fishermen. She also told me about Vietnamese soldiers who came to take over the island from the old South Vietnamese government.

The current population in Côn Đảo is 6,000 people. There were more than 20,000 people died during the two wars. It means the number of dead people is triple. Côn Đảo is still isolated and less touristy than other sightseeing places in Vietnam. During my 3-day trip, I saw only 3 westerners and few Vietnamese tourists. A Vietnamese girl even spent a month there walking around the island.

Another highlight on my trip is the local food. I tasted
Near Bãi Nhát beachtwo types of sea snails (photos No. 10 and No. 31) which are local specialty and only available there. All the people I met on Côn Sơn island came from different regions of Vietnam, but most of them are from the Mekong Delta. There are many old French buildings and they are now used as museum or government offices.

Travel tips: Two airlines (Vasco and Air Mekong) fly daily between Sài Gòn (HCM city) and Côn Đảo. Air ticket costs US$50 one way and the flight takes 40 minutes. Every two days there is a boat running between Côn Đảo and Vũng Tàu city in Vietnam’s mainland. The boat ride takes 12 hours (from 5pm to 5am next day). Ticket costs US$10. However, in some months the waves are high (8-9m) and in bad weather boat trips may be cancelled.

There are no taxis on the island. After you arrive at the airport, you will see mini buses of hotels. They give you free rides to the town, but you must stay at their hotels. I chose to go by motorbike and it cost me US$3 to go from airport to town (15km). Motorbike is also a good
Ốc vú nàng (sea snails – local specialty)
This type of sea snail looks similar to oyster. The snails live on the rock. This dish costs US$3.5 (VND 70,000). The snails are cooked with peanuts and onion.means of transport as the island is small and you can stop anywhere for taking photos. If you want to rent a bike, the rental costs US$6/day. However, there is only one gas station and it’s only open during working hours.

Traffic in Vietnam

I don’t think I need to write much about this. There’s a huge amount of people in cities like Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) and Hanoi. And most of them drive motorbikes as cars are very expensive here. There’s traffic everywhere, all the time. To get a feeling of how many motorbikes there are, just walk around or drive one during rush hour. The numbers are huge, I don’t know them, but they are huge.

Traffic rules

I’m sure they have them, but it’s more like guidelines than rules. At least that’s how it can feel. Of course there’s things like traffic lights and such, but not everybody respects them all the time. And then there’s the six second “gap of death”, as I heard a comedian ones describe. The thing is, he’s right. The last 3 seconds of red light (there are countdown timers at the lights here) everybody starts driving. And when it turns from green to red, well there’s another 3 seconds of “just keep going”. This results in a total of 6 seconds where everybody and everythings comes together in the middles of cross sections.

And thus you have …

Traffic accidents

They happen in every country, that’s a given. And it’s actually more or less a miracle that they don’t happen here more often. MUCH more often. You see driving a motorbike here is more of an art than anything else. Don’t try to apply Western logic to Vietnamese traffic … you’ll die. Everything more or less works out all the time, no matter how chaotic things may seem.

But not always.

Last year I’ve seen my share of accidents, mostly involving only motorbikes. People falling while driving and getting hurt was something I witnessed a few times in 2010. Usually it’s not too bad, people seem quite used to it. The motorbikes are not too damaged and the drivers get off with a few scratches, but nothing all too serious it seems. And usually things happen like, some motorbike hits another one, or a motorbike hits a car. That’s even normal here. The cars and motorbikes have the scars to prove it. I’ve even been on a motorbike that hit other ones and has been hit by others. I have been hit myself (so, my body, not my motorbike) by other motorbikes. I’ve scraped the walls in small alleys and I’ve been in a car that got hit by a motorbike. That’s part of everyday life here.

But that’s usually.

I’ve also seen (a trourist) motorbike driver scooping up a local on the street. The guy got flung in the air and hit the ground again a good 2 meters further. The driver was so surprised that he lost control of the motorbike, drove onto the sidewalk just a meter away from me, almost hit a pole and remained upright himself while the motorbike fell.

But tonight trumps them all

Because it can get worse than that of course.

Tonight I’ve seen the biggest accident so far. We were on our way back home from the karaoke bar (which was great fun). As usual I was riding along on the back. I have driven a motorbike with gears here, along the small alleys and around Hoan Kiem lake. But for long distances and through heavy traffic, I’m not taking any chances. So I was in the back, looking around. And then I saw, in the middle of an intersection, a car hitting a motorbike. Both were driving fast enough to make things go bad. I don’t know who was in fault as I had no idea what the traffic lights said at the time. But I did see the car hitting the motorbike, the motorbike (with it’s driver and passenger in the back) getting scooped up, flung away and slide over the pavement. It’s safe to say that the motorbike won’t be much use anymore. But that’s not the bad part. The bad part is that the driver was clearly hurt a lot. He had the biggest impact as the car hit the motorbike in the front half of the bike. I’m quite sure his left hand/lower arm was broken as he couldn’t use it anymore, and blood was seeping out. His passenger seemed equally bad off, as it took a few seconds for him to get up, and then struggle on. He couldn’t support himself on his right foot anymore, but tried to get out of the way of the traffic that would inevitably come in the next few seconds.

The driver of the car sped away. It was a hit and run. This of course more or less indicates that he (or she) was to blame for the accident. But I can’t say that for sure.

I asked Hoe if we should stop. She was focussing on the road we had to take, which didn’t lead us over the intersection where the accident was. We had to go left and so she saw it too, but as we were turning she didn’t see the whole thing. Our friends were ahead of us. Nobody seemed to feel the need to stop. Perhaps they’re more used to it than I am. “They are still alive” was more or less the comment.

So my thoughts after that

Actually, as I’ve seen a number of accidents by now I’ve been hoping that I won’t be in one of them. I have complete faith in Hoe’s driving, she’s very good at it. But it doesn’t have to be her fault. Anyone can hit us just as well. And after seeing the accident tonight, all I can do is just keep on hoping that in the next week I won’t be the one struggling to get off an intersection.

But hey, don’t forget … karaoke was fun

We spent two nights and about three and half days in Halong bay, drifting slowly on the boat during the day and even slower at night. We also visited Cat Ba island, the largest, and only inhabited island in the Bay, where we cycled through the national park. We also visited the “Hospital Cave”, which is more or less what it sounds. In the early 60s the cave was transformed into a hospital for serving members of the Vietnamese Army, complete with medics rooms, kitchens, a rest and recuperation room, a conference room and a poool. It is quite an eerie experience to be honest, but definitely worthwhile.

After that we got on another boat to transfer to Monkey Island. This is a tiny island in the bay, complete with private beach and about 25 beach huts. Unfortunately we were only there for one night, as it was the first beach of the trip and also a very idyllic place to spend a night or three, but we did have time to hike to the peak of the island and see the monkeys that give the island its name.

That is more of less it for halong bay, the photos are better than any of my descriptions!
Right, we are almost up to date (thankfully!) only two more quick blogs to go before we are in “real time”….

We caught our mini-bus at the station, and headed straight for Hoi An, another 45 min. ride. This city is all about tailors; people come from all over the world to have suits, dresses, shirts, overcoats, shoes, etc. tailored at any of the (reportedly) 300 shops, at perhaps 10-20% what they would cost at home. The world famous Yaly’s told us they have 300 tailors, themselves. Well, two of our group took full advantage of this, ordering up suits, overcoats and shirts Friday afternoon. They were all done Saturday afternoon, with several fittings in between. The rest of us wandered around this very relaxing town with hundreds of tiny shops. The old town has many old temples and assembly halls, some of which we were able to access even without buying the “high priced” admission tickets (90,000 Dong-$4.50) for five admittances. Eventually they all look the same anyways (“same, same, but different” is the most common expression in SE Asia). We could have rented bicycles for $0.75/day or motorbikes for $3/day but chose to walk. With the heat, the walking was at a very slow pace.

Yesterday, three of us (the three not needing repeated clothes fittings) went on an excellent day trip to My Son ruins, apparently a junior version of Ankor Wat in Cambodia, and less restored. The ruins deterioration from natural causes was significantly aided by American bombs, as they suspected the Viet Cong were hiding in the temples. The hour ride there was by bus, and it was great to get into the countryside, watch the farmers harvesting rice, and see all the rice being dried over tarps wherever there was a flat area (including taking up one lane of the highway in some places). My Son is in a beautiful jungle setting, as you’ll see from the photos (if and when I get them uploaded). It is one of the main remnants of the Cham civilization which inhabited the central part of Vietnam for over a millenium before being gradually pushed out by the Viets from the north. The Cham were Hindu, having come originally from India. It was a wonderful occasion to relax, learn from our excellent guide, and experience nature. Returning to Hoi An, we took a boat trip for the last half, which included a meal. Altogether the bus ride, guide, boat trip and meal cost us $6.00 (plus $3.00 admission to the ruins.) Well worth it! After returning, I relaxed for a while, spent some more time wandering the shops–and buying a few things, before meeting the group for dinner together.

Sunday morning, we had only a couple of hours before catching a private bus to Hue. I started this blog, but then the power went out in the hotel, so am now finishing on Monday. Stopped at Marble Mtn, where they had an amazing cave network with religious icons and carvings everywhere. The trip was very enjoyable, as we finally got to see more of the Vietnam countryside. Traversing one pass, we went through a tunnel approx. 10 km. long.

Hue (pronounced “whey”) is the ancient capital of the empire, and so has within it the ancient walled city, and within that, protected by moat and walls, the citadel, or royal headquarters. It is now a major tourist attraction and two of us chose to explore it yesterday afternoon, hoping to catch a boat ride to some other ruins–tombs of the kings–this morning. But the schedule didn’t allow us to take a regulalry scheduled trip and the private tour was too costly, so I’m just catching up on blogging, journalling, etc, and going to the market later. We leave this afternoon for the overnight train to Hanoi.

Last night, three of us went to a “cultural event” on a dragon boat on the river. The lovely Vietnamese women in their galmorous outfits, provided the strange vocal music of the imperial era, accompanied by three musicians playing strange stringed instruments. All in all, the ancient traditions, both religious and otherwise, remind me a lot of the kinds of things we read about in the Old Testament.

Still hot, but maybe a little more bearable than earlier–or I’m just getting used to it.