Dusty Roads and Chained Attack Monkeys

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The trip from Hanoi to Hoi An introduced me to a new transportation method: the sleeper bus. A sleeper bus is like a regular bus, only instead of seats they have bunk beds. The one we took had three rows of bunk beds. I ended up sleeping in the middle top bunk, which unfortunately is for those of... average Asian height.. and my seat belt was broken so I had to tie myself into the bed. Also the Vietnamese highway is composed almost entirely of potholes and craters, so the effect was something like sleeping in a small metal cage during a long and terrible earthquake. Otherwise, it is a fine way to travel. At least- I tell myself this since almost every leg of our trip will be on sleeper buses.

Hoi An was a sleepy fishing town that saw little action during the war, and was mostly ignored until it hit tourism pay-dirt about 15 years ago. It's claim to fame is an "ancient" old town center and a perfect white sand beach lined with palm trees and small dunes, with clear blue water. Hoi An is also famous for it's excess of tailor shops, which send their lackeys into the town to try to lure unsuspecting tourists into buying lots of custom made clothes. They've tried to get John and I several times, but we learned long ago that when someone approaches you with the line "Hello, Where are you from?" you should just pretend like you don't speak English, or are deaf.

We enjoyed two days lounging beach side, waving on Vietnamese women hawking sunscreen and bracelets. The Vietnamese women had absolutely no skin showing except for their eyes, while the foreigners roasted themselves on the beach turning neon pink. One hawker decided to sit awhile and chat with John and I, probably because we were sitting in the shade instead of the sun (John gets sunburned by just thinking about the sun, I think). She had lots of nice advice for us which she pronounced with a little difficulty and a lot of pride and deep resounding wisdom: "Don't be lazy, be crazy", "A Smile a day keeps the doctor away", "Don't be angry- be happy" and "Buy something."

We left Hoi An- another memorable sleeper bus... with a cockroach infestation... and arrived in Nha Trang just to see the sun rising over the perfect beach and islands. Old Vietnamese people did morning excersizes on the beach, and hundreds were swimming laps. It was tempting to stay, but we pressed onto Dalat which promised to be a lovely mountain town all in French architecture with a lake, waterfalls and the works.

First of all, the road to DaLat is not a road yet, but I think it aspires to be. Right now it is a path made of dust that winds through the mountains. Our bus was not air conditioned, and I don't think the driver noticed the dust was so thick outside you couldn't see out of the windows... because they kept the doors open the whole time letting dust flow into the bus so that no one could breath. We arrived in DaLat looking like we had been trekking in the desert for days.

Second of all the lake in DaLat is drained and smells like dead fish. Third of all- Dalat sucks. There is no French architecture, only a very insane guesthouse that we visited that would make Gaudi ponder. Therefore we are pressing on tomorrow for Saigon (HCMC).

Coming soon: Meghan and John take Saigon.

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Photos

Would you sleep in a room with a demon dingo?
Crazy Guesthouse in Dalat

Very jungly looking river
I made john take this picture because that restaurant reminded me of The Deer Hunter.