Vietnam in a Blur!!

It took a good four hours uphill ride from our lovely camp on the Nam Noua to finally catch sight of the border check post through the thick foliage that covered the hills. So far this was the most exciting border crossing. The road again was terrible as always made worse by passing heavy trucks that caused mini dust storms each time they thundered past us engines rumbling from the effort. My lessons in geography have been enforced with exposure to the taste of dust from different places. Apart from passing trucks and the occasional dust streaked villager on his battered moped, we virtually saw no other sign of life. The forest lay thick around us but it was eerily silent. I guess the lethargic heat of Laos gets to the birds as well, already cautious given the hunting prowess of locals.

The border checkpoint was a rather impressive concrete structure standing forlornly on the ridge. The guards seemed happy for company and were standing outside to welcome us by the time we pulled up. Since it opened as an international crossing last year in October few travellers use this route. The guardhouse had been built with Vietnamese assistance as a huge stone slab proclaimed. Another kilometre to the border and then it's downhill for 35 km to Dien Bien Phu, site of the historic victory of the Vietnamese against the French in 1954. War-history tourism is heavy in Vietnam and the Tay Tran border was obviously opened to enable easy crossing to Dien Bien Phu. Indo-china tours are one of the best selling and we crossed several bus loads of western tourists enroute.

The moment we entered Vietnam our rattled bodies heaved a sigh of relief as we kissed tar. Apart from a little climb it was downhill all the way to Dien Bien Phu. It was far from peaceful though as we crossed several open air quarries and trucks loaded with stones rumbled past. Vietnam was certainly more industrious than Laos. I had to fight my irritation as well as drivers here drive with one hand on the horn. "Prrraaaap! Prrraaaaap!" I could have sworn at the truck coming uphill blaring it's horn hoarse till I saw the grinning driver and the thumbs up he waved at us. Grimacing I waved back. What can you do? This was to be routine throughout Vietnam.

The mountains of Northern Vietnam are much larger and more intimidating than the dusty hills of Laos. One can see large limestone crags that abruptly and steeply descend into large wide valleys and plains. The downhill ride on smooth tarmac was a treat after all the dusty spine rattling climbs. But once we reached the plains 10 km from Dien Bien Phu I was in for a shock. The road turned into a highway much like what one encounters upon leaving the mountains and pulling into New Delhi along the great Gangetic plains. There were vast green paddy fields all around us but the road was a mess of bullock carts, trucks, cars and hundreds of two wheelers of all kinds, motorised and not. Beeps and diesel smoke filled the air. I almost felt like I was back in India. what also helped my feeling was the garbage and lines of grubby shops lining the highway with bright gaudy sandwich sign boards outside displaying their services. I saw a load of Xerox boards as well. Wonder what people had to photocopy in such big bulks.

We crossed several war memorials on the way but wasted no time to stop as it was getting late. Everybody had warned us about unscrupulous money grabbing Vietnamese. Seemed to be the truth as the first guest house we found quoted the price in USD. 20 USD for the night we were informed. We didn't even border to argue. We finally found a grubby hole for 60,000 Dong but quickly moved out the next day to a really nice clean room which we bargained down to 80,000 Dong from 100,000. Quoting prices in multiple thousands can get quite tiring and the maths required even so. Everything is something "nghin" Vietnamese for a thousand. But I quite like the plastic-y notes with Uncle Ho on each one.

Buildings in Vietnam can be quite kitschy, an eyesore really. I was reminded of India again. Gaudy displays of wealth through use of shiny tiles, ornamental columns, tinted glass, elaborate balustrades and garish wall engravings here are closely related to what we often refer to as marwari ishtyle back in India (among the prejudiced lesser mortals which we all are at some point or the other) though it's not only the marwari's who are guilty of it. So two points in common for love for loud blaring horns and louder garish buildings.

The Vietnamese are obsessed with their war history and not without reason. Considering the large losses they faced for each victory they strived so hard for. You can't help but be overwhelmed by the history of this fierce proud people. Relics of the Indo-China war are scattered all over Dien Bien Phu and around. A pacifist and a softie at heart, I couldn't help but let a tear and a sniffle slip visiting some of the bunkers and war memorials in the area. I couldn't get myself to visit the museum. The Vietnamese government has worked very hard at sustaining the memory of the first of their historic victory and every place with relics of war in and around the area has been curtailed off as tourist spots with entrance fees and cheap souvenir stalls around.

Riding out the city we saw a monstrous statue of soldiers tugging a huge artillery of some sort still in construction. I can only hope these monuments remind people as much of the brutality of war as of the glory of victory.

We had a difficult time deciding between the North road towards the Chinese border of Lao Cai or the south road that twists and turns a little more but remains less travelled. We met several bikers and cyclist who had already done the North Road. The decision to finally take the North Raod was aided by my desire to visit the Pa Khoang lake some 20 km out of Dien Bien Phu towards the south road to Sapa. I had my fill of Vietnam's busy roads and wanted some restand 'quiet convalescence' which a little brochure I found promised in Pa Khoang. The lake itself wasn't much to talk off but leaving the busy highway with it's noisy road crew we found ourselves on a beautiful little round that twisted and turned uphill through really beautiful scenery. It was the quiet I was longing for after 2 days in bustling Dien Bien Phu. We stopped for a small break and deciding it was too early to camp we started pedalling again. Turned out to be a bad idea as we found ourselves cycling till past dark. We descended on human settlement with no possibilities of camping and found ourselves tackling a steep hill in the dark till we tipped over a pass to see the twinkling lights of Moung Ang far below us. It didn't help that Ced got two flats on the way down. It was close to 2130 when we finally found a Nha Nghi (guesthouse) to check into.

Though we couldn't wait to escape the ugly grubbiness of Moung Ang the next day brought its distractions as it was market day. Hundreds of colourful Thai Lu women descended into town selling and bying wares. I could not help but marvel at the tall elegant women with their classy long black skirts and elaborate headdress. A waist band is part of their dress along with close fitting long sleeved shirts that adds a touch of regalness to them. With their waists tucked in and their chins held high they almost looked Victorian. Even when working the fields you'll see them with their back bent straight from the waist with no sign of a slouch. I didn't spot a single overweight one among them. They all boasted slim well built figures.

The signs of rapid industrialization and economic progress is evident almost everywhere in Vietnam. We passed scores of busy bustling towns and road repair crews. If not a grubby town we'd be crossing villages where every bit of land was cultivated. There was no scope or hope for camping. Every day saw us trying to reach a decent enough town with guest houses. We also had a steep climb or two a day which saw us passing through hills with incredible karstic scenery and descending into vast rice bowls green with paddy as far as the eyes could see. Ancient bamboo waterwheels dot many of the plains; their creaks rising in the air with the slosh of water lifted to bamboo pipes that irrigate the fields. The rustic creaks was music to our ears. The Vietnamese are definitely a hard-working industrious people. The only tie we camped was on the edge of a highway after we were forced to as the only accommodation available was 20,0000 Dong. As they refused to relent on the price we showered at a nearby restaurant and put up our tent on the first slightly hidden place we found. It was the most terrible night so far as trucks rumbled by all night.

Our next stop was the town of Than Uyen. While we met very few Vietnamese trying to overcharge us contrary to all we'd been warned about, it has to be said that most guesthouses in urban areas cater mainly to travelling businessmen who don't mind spending. In fact all the Vietnamese we'd met so far were extremely welcoming and loved going out of their way to chat with us. We were invited to more than one table to share food and drink. I guess that's the benefit of passing through un-touristed places. In Than Uyen we found a really well furnished super modern room for 100,000 Dong. From our balcony we could see the rolling mountains in the distant mountains. There lay the Tran Ton pass, at 2005 m the highest pass in Northern Vietnam and the highest I'd be cycling till entering China.

The next day's ride was a breeze and pleasant except for the sight of a fresh corpse, victim of a road accident that plagues Vietnam's road. It was obvious the man had taken a turn too fast and too wide on his two wheeler and that too without a helmet and rammed into a truck hurtling down the opposite corner, smashed vehicles of both lying close by. It was a little eerie that a coffin was already ready with incense sticks burning beside. It almost seemed a well rehearsed act. I was surprised to see a hospital a few kilometres down the road. Dead or not, I assumed it would be more appropriate to rush casualty to the hospital. A little shaken and more wary we continued our way to reach the start of the climb to the pass.

We camped by a torrent on the side of the road readying ourselves to climb early next morning and hopefully reach Lao Cai by evening. There was a fierce thunder shower that evening. Cooking was a nightmare as we did our best to build a shelter with the tarp we had. the rain water that poured over everything including our food might have caused the terrible loose motion I had the next day. A terrific start to the 35 km ascent to the pass.

To top my runny tummy which made me stop every 5 kms, bad weather accompanied us all the way to the top. I also had a bad spill when I rode off the road distracted by two beautiful magpies I spotted. I yelled "magpie" and next thing I know I was flat on the ground with a nasty scraped knee. Ced, head turned towards the birds nearly ran over my head. I had my eyes fixed on the road for the rest of the beautiful winding climb. By the time we reached the pass it was a gale that greeted us. The few scattered food stalls struggled to keep their tarps from blowing away. We hurriedly changed into our warmest clothes and beat a quick descent to Sapa. The road down to Sapa was surprisingly bad considering it was thickly inhabited unlike the other side, a virtual wilderness. As we rapidly descended we were soon out of the clouds and in the warm sunshine that Sapa basked in. We decided to spend a day as I was pretty dehydrated from my bout of loose bowels.

Sapa was a shock. Though kind of pleasant given it's location it was far from being "queen of the Hills". Streets are lined with gaudy concrete buildings and one tourist too many. Here we got our first experience by being hounded by touts. We just entered the main town square and there were at least 15 people who swooped down on us shoving brochures from different guest houses into our hands. I couldn't hear a thing through all the din. I finally had to play along and offered to go with anyone who was willing to spare a nice room for 50,000 D. It worked. They all soon dispersed except for one persistent lady. We finally found a place ourselves. Another clean beautiful room close to the market on the main square.

I had been told by several travellers that the Hmong were the nicest people in Vietnam, much nicer than the Vietnamese of the plains. While I can't disagree I have to admit I was extremely wary of them. There was something suspicious about the way they'd come on you and sweet talk in rather good English before getting their wares out and sweetly asking you to buy some of it. I was invited too soon to visit their homes and stay with them. Hell that too after just talking for 5 mins. They are definitely a cute ethnic tribe and genuinely friendly but I can imagine some zealous person training them on how to hook travellers. I might be too harsh but I preferred being slightly aloof. While Sapa may have interesting hiking options for the average traveller, travelling on bikes and seeing the best of places we decided leave the very next day.


Another beautiful 35 km descent brought us to Lao Cai. I have to admit the scenery was quite stunning once out of Sapa. We marvelled at the high terraces built on the steep slopes of the hills. One of the reasons we decided we had to see the ones in Yuanyang, China. Lao Cai was hot dusty and sweaty. We changed before crossing the border this time taking all precaution to be as polite and accommodating as possible. I guess security guards do have a reason to be suspicious of cyclists. We met a German couple in Sapa who had been almost booted out of China. They had applied for visa extensions from Zhongdian a day before their visa expired and when asked how long it would take them to reach the Lao Cai border they truthfully answered 10 days. They got exactly that many days to leave the country. This time the guards seemed friendlier and though they checked our bags thoroughly and asked rather disconcerting questions like whether I was a Buddhist, they finally let us through passports stamped and checked. It helped that I had a rather funny postcard of Chairman Mao basking on the beach and clearly sunburnt for it. I had bought it in Thailand and kept in in my dairy which they duly skimmed through. The postcard was passed around with much merriment. It helped break the ice. They personally pushed our bikes across the final checkpoint to spare us another round of passport frisking. We were one step closer to Mongolia.

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