Countryside bus ride Phan Thiet to Dalat, part 1

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Slam. Jar. Smash. My head hits the window, back of a seat and my bag. I am jarred into existence through the bumpiest section of road. Sitting up, I gander out the window at a vast green field. Shauna is deep in thought her bag tucked between her legs reading a book or perhaps snoozing? The bus wobbles back and forth. Lurching forward and back. It appears only those with solid sleeping skills are still asleep, damn heavy sleepers. Looking at the Timex, I've only been able to catch twenty-three minutes of sleep. Why? I stare out the window at rows of fluffy green leaves, twirling vines and shrubbery. Peering over tops of heads between body parts I try focusing on the road as the driver sees it. My vantage point is excellent although I don't know why he is swerving. Peering out the window again large pot holes big enough to swallow up compact cars have eroded sections of the asphalt.

More than likely this road hasn't seen a serviceman since it's inaugural excavation and asphalt laying back in 1965 (totally inaccurate information) but seriously I didn't know shuttle buses were made for off-road driving. At least that's how it felt. Dipping and bumping along our driver squeezed past holes, drove around herds of untended cows and missed on several occasions creaming people on mopeds trying to zigzag around these same minefields. Minutes went by at a snails pace. This is why Duc and Lam, wanted us to cruise with them to Dalat. Should have listened? Oh well... At least we wont be doing this from Dalat to Nha Trang. Sipping water on a bus to keep from dehydrating went well although it took courage not to down the entire bottle.

The road less traveled or frequently traveled or the green vastness flooded my thoughts and my view. Looking out ramshackle houses tethered together with rope and vine crudely constructed sat on little plowed acres. The land around it blossomed into various shades of green. I tried scouring my brains for the crops they had plowed, sowed and maintaining. Nothing made any sense except for the iron plows resting beside large dark oxen. The black ox is a symbol all over Vietnam (we would soon learn) and is still used as a field worker. The oxen lay in giant pools of mud, flopping about trying to cool off in the mid-morning sun. I tried reading on several occasions but jerking, swaying and constant pain in the butt surged its way through my body forcing me to look out the windows instead of concentrate on words in a book. Shifting quit often the grassy fields turned into rolling hills which turned into a steep mountain off in the distance. Hoping the temperatures would drop some would be like hoping I had listened when warned about riding a bus for five hours into the central highlands. I still couldn't fathom why 243 kilometers would take 5 hours to drive if you were driving 70 kmph? Heck even if you were doing 50, it would make sense to me. Except I didn't account for mammoth sized potholes, a driver and his broken bus or cows? Certainly I would learn why it seemed we drove at an untimely pace as well but for now I just starred out into the countryside pondering... what life would be like if I had been born out here in the countryside of Vietnam? I day dream about searching for scraps of wood, trees to cut down for posts, sheets of tin to bend into a roof and materials I'd find resting alongside vacant stretches of road. I'd use these things to build my small loving family a home. Tourists would think its a ramshackle but I would call it my castle. My days would consists of working the soil that my father and his father had worked before me. I would grow crops to sustain my family as well as sell in the nearby village markets. We would survive out here in this vast green valley, tending to its meadows between two stretches of mountainous terrain. This would be my life.

The streaming consciousness of daydreaming was ripped apart when the bus rapidly turned off the pavement onto a stretch of dirt patch. It lurched forward stopping between a newer version of itself and an open set of tables with people milling about. We learn from the attendant, luggage chucker and receipt collector that this is our rest stop. Please use the facilities, get something to drink and take cover from the sun.

Waiting. Waiting. and Waiting we finally exit the bus jumping down into the beating hot sun. Its just before noon and the people are lining up for snacks. Quickly we head off to the left of the dilapidated building into the shrubs to pee. I don't follow the others heading into the cafe whom I assume are getting something to eat because I have two dragon fruit stashed in my bag. Finding a spot in the bushes no one around I get started peeing freely outside. It feels fantastic to be standing and relieving at the same time. Refreshing. Finishing I return to the front where the buses pulling out my hand sanitizer. Next I locate my camera and take a few shots of our random hillside cafe/rest stop. Putting away the camera I noticed between the cafe and a gazebo like building a concrete building with people streaming in and out. I look closer and read Men and Women as well as toilet. Laughing to myself I continue taking photographs than ease my way across the road pulling out the dragon fruit and peeling it apart to get at its lush fruit center.

Standing in the shade of the tree I smile as Shauna approaches, she asks where I got the fruit from, I am a smart man is my reply. Another couple says, "oh man. that's the way to go," as they watch me eating the delicious white flesh passing half to Shauna. "Would you like one? I have another. You are more than welcome to have it," I inquire of our onlookers. They decline. Then ask if we are coming from Mui Ne. We are. And our conversation bursts into the who are you, where are you from, how long are you in Vietnam parade of questions. We learn they are from Vancouver, they've been here for ten days, and are off to Cambodia in a few days before heading back. Getting into details about the good about the two cities respectively, their bus begins to fill up with people and they must go. We wish them well on their travels and they do the same. A couple minutes later we are asked to get on our bus as I drain the remainder of water from my 1.5 liter water bottle. Not thinking I drop it off in a waste basket then climb onto the bus walking between the outstretched legs of other passengers. Sitting down we fall back against the seats ready for the second half of this journey.

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