"Is this the bus to Dalat?"

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The first knock on the door startled us both out of deep unconsciousness. Another knuckle wrapping on the door, Shauna burst out from beneath the mosquito netting grabbing the door knob twisting it to face someone on the other side. Standing six feet behind her my eyes glared daggers of exile but I noticed the door knocker came with its own security guard detail. Shutting the door we both knew the day had begun. Two quick showers we grabbed our bags proceeding to reception for both breakfast and checking out.

By 7:05 we'd accomplished everything two humans without brain cells could offer the breaking dawn. Shauna tried twice to have conscious conversations with me but nearly lost her mind trying to do so. Another attempt and we asked the receptionist/desk clerk, how we catch the open-tour bus? Do they come get us? Do they send a retriever? What happens? "You must wait by the road." Was her simple soft response. Wait by the road? Is that figuratively? What color is the bus? "It is a purple bus." And with that we walked to the end of the driveway.

Approaching the ripe hour of 7:20, we both began to sweat bullets. Standing in the rising sun, we perspired more than we had the last 3-days. Tired, sweating and needing a nap, I simply put out there the thought that I hoped the bus had those comfy lounge chair style seats. We disagreed. Shauna prefers those nice comfy sit down kind (like Korea has) with plenty of legroom and ample space to kick back in the A/C and enjoy the views. As the little hand approached 35 minutes after the hour, I went to the guard shack to ask about the open-tour bus. Without an English knowledge he pointed to the clock twice. We just weren't getting along since I'd been awake since 5:45am. Tired. Sweating and getting aggravated in the rising sunshine. However, a nice groundsman came over to explain that the bus would show up when it was good and ready. Shauna consuming too many coffees for breakfast ran off back towards the restaurant to use the facilities.

As she was away, I watched several people drive up across the street pulling motor scooters into a fenced yard with sand dunes. Watching as each person arrived then pulled through this barb wired gate to park their moped off in the distance. A random hut held all the arriving bodies. Ten more minutes went by in the blink of a snail crossing five feet. Laughing at the absurdity, I didn't tell Shauna about the purple bus that drove past while she was using the loo. But I did inquire her perspective about the cornucopia of people traveling into the sand dune yard across the street. We both babbled onwards for another fifteen minutes then eventually a bus pulled up along side our feet directly across the street. Pointing at us the driver shouted some unintelligible words. Looking at each other, we looked over our shoulders as the groundsman said, "Bus to Dalat." I yawned unconcerned and deeply concerned for the five hour bus ride we were about to embark upon.

The bus... more like a shuttle had enough room for twenty passengers plus a couple extras in the back. Being the first customers on, we had our choice of seating. Looking about the bus, we sat down on several seats. The comfort level was sub-par. And the room. Well. It was like being in a sardine can. Actually, it reminded me of Cebu Pacific Airlines. Just enough room to wedge your human form between a seat like shape and the back of another. Literally crammed into the seat, I asked if Shauna would be okay with taking the entire back row of seats. Two good things about doing this. First, if need be you could lay down. Second, if we needed to, we could stretch our limbs out between the rows of seats. Thankfully, she said yes without having to debate or pull out my points.

Sitting at the back we opened up some windows. The breeze was great even a bit stuffy. But manageable. Every single person the bus stopped to pick up asked us the same damn question, "Is this the bus to Dalat?" We responded, "That is what we were informed." Every single time it was said, everyone sounded disappointed about the condition of the bus or there seating assignment. From the north end of town (where we were) to the south end of town the driver stopped frequently filling the bus to capacity. Then he headed for Phan Thiet driving fifteen minutes to the south. Unsure and without consulting a map, I couldn't figure out why we were backtracking to Phan Thiet. Eventually, it all made clear sense. We weren't finished cramming bodies onto the bus. We only had the "foreign" clientele and needed to pickup the regular paying customers. By 8:45 in the morning we were ready to get on the road heading out of town towards the mountains except the driver had plans of his own. Like stopping for fuel. A necessary thing to do when driving 247 kilometers (153 miles) through winding, twisting, steep hills. But what you don't expect is the guy to stop and purchase truck parts for the engine or master cylinder brakes or brake pads. Seriously. (I'm not kidding).

After every minute stop, pick up, etc we finally reached the beginning of our route to Dalat through the central highlands. In five hours, we'd be enjoying the great mountain air. Smiling, I laid my sweltering head back against my bag sucking in oxygen as the winds rushed through the bus because this was A/C in Vietnam. Checking the Timex adventure watch the orange face with black hands read 9:23 am. I almost cried. Literally, I could have slept at least another two hours if not more instead I would be taking a nap along the back seat of a crickety purple bus. Either way... I close my eyes in the hope of retrieving some of those missed sandman dreams from earlier in the morning.

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Photos

Filling up...
with passengers

Picking up
Bus parts

Getting
Vietnamese passengers

An Phu Tour
"The Purple Beast"

Good bye
Mui Ne... hello sandman