I am pretty much done in Dalat.
The day had started at an outdoor adventure store, awaiting the arrival of 3 people who'd signed up for a biking tour but never showed up. Apparently, they all felt ill and will go biking tomorrow instead, which leaves me and the mountain bike (too high) and a Vietnamese fellow (guide).
These things are usually 2 minimum to go, but I s'pose they had no choice but to take me since the other tourists were behaving badly. Unfortunately, this meant (I suspect) he took me on a route guaranteed to tire me out (uphill, uphill, more uphill!!!) so the whole thing would end early. Being a hater of uphills, I'd never imagine I'd manage to stay on the bicycle on all the uphills, and not get run off the winding road by buses and trucks.
Maybe it's because the bike had a good range of gears - take the path of least resistance and pedal like crazy (like a hamster on a wheel, somehow, but cover very little distance), or y'know, do some really hard cycling. I expect some form of hobbling is in store tomorrow. Even my nether regions hurt.
Rewind. Dinner yesterday was at a bakery/restaurant that seemed popular with the locals. I was headed for an empty table when a fellow with a crew cut strode in front of me and took the table I had set my sights on. I sat at the next table instead. Then, for some reason, the crew cut turned around and spoke. A Vietnamese who grew up a Swiss, as it turns out. Invited me to go to a nightclub later. I decided that was a bad idea, but didn't want to be a stand-up-er, so ended up going to drink tea instead, during which he laughs at my accent and says 'I can't imagine how you write the news in English', but yet don't know common words like 'convenient', 'biased' and 'flood'.
Apparently on a journey to learn to be alone (although, no doubt girlfriend would come if she could), and claims to be becoming more open-minded by talking to the likes of me. Goodbyes at 11.30pm - and no offer to send me back to my lodgings were forthcoming. I do not like Mr Superiority Complex.
Rewind. I was sitting next to a short potted shrub on the steps of the guesthouse in Mui Ne, waiting for the bus to Dalat. Not really happy to be leaving a pleasant, reasonably priced tatched-roof room behind, but the hot-sun-beating-down holiday isn't really my thing - didn't even bring swim wear. Then, a guy exiting the place spotted me, and gestured like he'd been looking for me. Turned out to be the guy who'd shouted a greeting out to me as I walked past the sitting area the day before. An American soldier, taking a break from Afghanistan. Mui Ne is cool and windy (high 30s), Afghanistan is baking (45!!!). One man's poison ...
During the chat, a sentence like this was spouted: 'I wanted to go to Bali, but I heard there were too many whores, too many tuk tuks ...' Stuck at the word 'whores' - possibly the first time it's being said to me in actual conversation. Didn't even correct him about the tuk tuks.
The bus turned out to be almost an hour late and the ride was the most bumpy I've been on in a very long time. Gigantic potholes up the mountain and poor suspension conspired to slowly injure my insides. Funny, I don't remember this bit from the last time.
Rewind. Ho Chi Min City is a seething mess. A population of 10 million people and 5 million motorcycles. I'd escaped here after spending 3.5 days in the Mekong Delta. The Delta hadn't been kind - by the time the Vietnamese wedding concluded, I'd been fed on by at least 30 mosquitoes, mostly below the knees. Somehow the tactics of these insects remind me of the Viet cong. I'd meant to make my way further into the Delta to a town called Ca Mau, but the travel guide described the mosquitoes there as the size of "hummingbirds" that can only be killed by shotguns. Also, it's a high risk place for malaria. Not very keen on acquiring that. Apparently they've got a special medicine you drink for that. Not very keen on that either.
I took a 7-hour sampan ride on the Mekong. Alone. It was mind-numbing. A plan to go see the storks was subsequently skewered thanks to the lack of reasonably priced transport options. The Delta's not for the independent tourist, only groups in busloads. So I beat a hasty retreat and consequently got stuffed into a packed tourist mini-bus headed for HCMC, sandwiched between the driver and the tour guide. The Cambodian guide wasted no time in professing his love for Vietnam (don't know why). Asked me if I liked Vietnam. I wonder.
