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Published: January 4th 2008
Zany
The 'Crazy House' in DalatI'm not sure whether it came as a disappointment, or as a relief that I hadn't been carrying the items in question around South East Asia in vain, but Dalat delivered up the first occasion on which I'd had to wear long pants and long sleeves in a month and a half. The town is nestled up in the mountains, and quite a chill descended over the place at night. Perhaps this was part of the reason the nightlife was notably ordinary.
Dining at the Peace Cafe (a dubious Lonely Planet recommendation) the first night, I was dismayed when the 'big burger' I had ordered came out and it was just a ball of mincemeat with some slices of tomato and cucumber on the side. I was further dismayed when I cut it open and discovered that it was red raw. When I asked them to give it another stint on the grill and it came out almost more raw the second time (or so it seemed), Gem went into the kitchen to fight my battle, while I sat there hungry and dejected. She discovered that the lady was attempting to cook for twenty odd patrons on a camp stove.
Wacky
It really was a crazy house I couldn't help but take pity and pretend that it tasted good the third time - she'd tried hard against the odds after all. I also gained a greater empathy for the fact that the meals had come out an hour and a half after we'd ordered them, and at twenty minute intervals.
While Dalat itself hadn't made a huge first impression on me, I had heard the surrounding mountains be likened to the French Alps in terms of natural beauty. Granted, I've never seen the French Alps, but I'm sure they're very nice. We therefore signed up one of Dalat's 'world famous' Easy Riders, a fantastic bloke called Ted, to take us round and see the sights. Ted told us that the cheapest way of doing it all was for Gem to go on the back of the motorbike with him, and for Greg and I to rent and share another, and follow him. As I had cruised around San Francisco on my mate Blake's Vespa about four months earlier I felt I had the requisite experience to tackle the open mountain roads around Dalat.
It wasn't the mountain roads that provided the challenge, but rather getting
through town to access them. I apologise if I have worn out the point of chaos on the roads in earlier posts, but tackling them in the driver's seat for the first time was something else altogether. I am convinced that there aren't any road rules at all, not even down to things as simple as staying on the right side. My saving grace was that in most instances there was so many other motorbikes coming from so many different angles that no-one really gets out of first gear.
Our first stop was at the 'Crazy House', a house made by a Vietnamese artist that is, just as the name suggests, crazy. I'll allow the photos to tell the story. Moving on to a waterfall next, Greg, Gem and I were all a little hard to impress having all seen Iguazu Falls in the past year, though it was nice enough. Visiting the village outside Dalat after lunch was the highlight for me, but not so much for anything we saw, but for watching Ted's excitement at everything he showed us.
It was strangely fantastic to see the villagers digging a well the old fashioned way (with a
A merry dance
Kids in Kindergarten in a village outside Dalat shovel and a bucket lowered into the hole with rope), a hen with a few newly hatched chicks, some pigs, and the kids taking their classes at the local kindergarten. I have seen all that sort of stuff before, but Ted's enthusiasm was infectious. I couldn't help but get excited when we'd approach another vegetable garden, stable, or old lady slaving over a stove cos I knew that his reaction would be priceless. He has been an Easy Rider in Dalat for over thirty years but you would have thought it was his first day on the job. He loves what he does and for that reason is so much better at it - bless his heart.
There was little else to note of my time in Dalat, although Greg and I did spent an afternoon wetting a line in the big lake in the middle of town. Greg has been a keen angler for decades now, studied fisheries management at university, knows every knot and tackle setup in the book, and leads trout and salmon fishing trips for a crust back home. I was therefore very excited at the thought of sitting on the edge of the lake
Sending our love down the well
Village men digging a well the old fashioned way and watching him reel in a monster fish every few minutes. I was unfortunately to learn that it doesn't work that way. He seemed to have a sixth sense and was constantly observing and calculating hundreds of different variables in his head, yet at the end of the day the fish hadn't come to the party. Every time I go fishing I appreciate the serenity and time for contemplation, but also crave the odd bit of action. Some think my great sporting passion of golf is a boring game, but at least something happens many times throughout a round - even more so when you are in ordinary form.
Having had our fill of Dalat, we moved back to the coast and some warmer weather at Mui Ne. All three of us were excited to be getting back onto the beach, and finding some Christmas excitement. Mui Ne didn't turn out to be exactly what we'd expected though, as it seems to be more geared to a market other than that of the shoestring backpacker. All of the places close to the middle of town were either booked out or cost and arm and a leg, so we decided
Fresh as you like
This little fella had just come out of his shell instead to stay 6kms further up the beach and rent motorbikes to cruise in and out of town. After all, the baptism of fire we'd had cruising around Dalat meant that we would have no trouble at all riding the short distance to the action along a relatively quiet road. Of course, we had assumed that the brakes on both bikes would work, but Greg very skillfully managed to make do without them.
Kitesurfing is the number one activity in Mui Ne, and there is constantly at least seventy people out doing their thing. I would have been tempted to have a go myself if we were planning on staying a little longer, but decided against paying the asking price when I considered that I'd still be a complete battler and unable to get up after only a day of lessons. Therefore, we ended up spending some more lazy time on the beach, having the occasional swim and fling of the frisbee when the wind died down (which was rare).
We were all a little disappointed with the Christmas festivities in town. Because Mui Ne is spread out all the way along the beach there was no one
Spider pigs
Doing whatever spider pigs do place to go to find a bit of excitement, and we ended up wandering fairly aimlessly along the beach before finding a decent party late in the piece. I hadn't been holding my breath that we would find a good old fashioned Christmas roast dinner with all the trimmings the following day, and that was a good thing. Somehow fried rice for lunch and a stirfried beef with lemongrass for dinner just didn't quite cut the mustard. In a desperate effort to inject some sort of a normal festive feel to the day I had even sought out a church and turned up for the service. Being a Catholic service conducted entirely in Vietnamese it all seemed rather foreign to me, and a few times I sat down when I was supposed to be kneeling and vice versa. It was all over in about twenty minutes anyway - they sure don't mess around.
Before heading out of town we did a tour around all of the sights of the area, and though some of the things we saw (especially the sand dunes) were pretty impressive, the tour over all was a big disappointment. This was due both to the
Nice, but no fish
Lake in the middle of Dalat fact that our 'English speaking guide' could not speak a single word of English, and that they had crammed six of us into a small four man Jeep. The 'guide' would just drive for half an hour or so and then pull over and sit there without even looking at us. After a few bouts of shoulder shrugging we figured out that by pulling over he was giving us the signal that we were supposed to get out and figure out what it was that we were supposed to be looking at. The whole thing would likely have been a whole lot better if the guide spoke English, or if not, at least occasionally removed the scowl from his face that made us feel as though we were really putting him out by giving him business. Such cheek on our parts!
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