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Published: February 23rd 2007
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Lunch
Ahh, the Vietnamese noodle shop. I'll miss you! Well, here goes the continuation of the travelblog. As for the delay, well, after Northern Vietnam, I found myself traveling with my nearest and dearest (hi guys and gals). As such, it wasn't so easy to spend lots of time writing the blog. So, apologies again! Hopefully, now I'm here on the beach with not much to do I should be able to finish.
If I remember correctly, I set off from Sapa early, at about 7.30 in the morning. This was because I was hoping on making it all the way to Hanoi, a 300km trip. Before I had left, I was given a gift of an umbrella by the park ranger. How kind! I headed back down the mountain, looking for fuel and a pharmacy. After having to drink a cup of tap water the night before, I was having nightmarish visions of the dreaded consequences of having poisoned myself. So, I stocked up on anti-nausea pills, took a bunch (while avoiding the blood from the pig being slaughtered in the shop next door. This would no doubt end up the centerpiece of a big Tet feast) and headed off.
The weather had noticably changed. I
Can We Fix it?
No we can't. So it's off to the mechanics. Whilst I was travelling with the Old Buffalo, apparently the average income increased for Vietnames mechanics by a third. Conicidence? was used to riding in beautiful sun, but Sapa was deep in mist, and it was drizzling. I was given a bit of a fright when I leaned on the front break by acident and the bike threatened to slip from under me. Whoops, always use rear brake. I was unable to appreciate the beautiful Sapa scenery, but I was not that bothered, having seen it on the way up. Today was not a day for sight seening, but for putting miles under my wheels.
Unfortunately, that was going to be a problem. What with the mists and all, I was forced to slow down drasticaly as I rolled down the mountain. Still, there was something very peaceful about the way the sound was swallowed up in all the moisture in the air.
I stopped for a coke, and found to my dismay that my sole had come off my trainers. This was a bit of a big problem. Having size 15 feet meant that I wouldn't find it very easy to buy some replacements. However, in the spirit of my trip I bound up my shoe with a lenth of bungee cord, and got moving again.
Proto-Mechanics
The mechanic's kid and his pal. Very funny kids, who kept giving me things like marbles and ball bearings as presents. I found this part of the trip very refreshing. I spashed through many towns and villages, all hustling and bustling. This was a much more busy road than the west, not as pretty of course, but with lots of sights to pay attention to. I bumped over railway bridges, raced along next to Vietnamese kids on motorbikes, all the time with my eyes peeled for signs telling me how far I was from Hanoi. I still had hopes to make it tonight. That would give me one day in Hanoi before I had to catch my flight back to Bangkok.
Every seemed to be going well, until disaster struck. A run-of-the-mill start of the bike suddenly found me lying under it in the middle of the road. I quickly pulled myself and the bike to the side of the road, and checked out the damage. Oh no! The gear shift had been bent as the bike fell on it, and I couldn't change gear. It was getting dark now, and as I had resgned myself to driving at night, I knew I had to get this repaired. I was helped out by some Vietnamese people, including some women who found the idea of some big caucausian limping around and cursing very amusing. I left my bike and rucksack with them (and hoped they were trustworthy), and set out to look for a garage.
The mechanic I found came with me to the bike. I was able to get it started, and I puttered over to the garage in first gear. As we rolled it up to the fixin' bay, I anticipated a quick swap of the gear leaver, and off I'd go. Unfortunately, this turned out to be presumption on my part. Something serious had happened to the transmission, and the bike refused to give more than two gears. I had to resign myself to the fact that I'd have to make do with them. At that point, the heavens opened and one of those downpours I'd been dreading hits the countryside. Great.
I pulled on my poncho, and set off into the night. However, before I left, the wife of the mechanic presed a heavy bundle of sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leafs into my hand. I was again amazed by the hospitality of the Northern Vietnamese. Driving was a nightmare, and as I plowed on I desperately looked for signs of Yin Bin. Apparently, there were hotels there, I could stay the night and try and get the bike repaired in the morning.
As I peered through the gloom, thick jungle surrounding me, I desperately wanted to find a hotel, before the whole bike packed up. I drove on for about another 45 minutes, struggling with every gear change, until I came across a hotel. Roaring up with the bike overreving, covered in a pink poncho, I looked a real sight. As I checked in I realised that the family were tucking into a great feast. They took pity on me, and invited me to join them. The sticky rice I was given came in useful as I gratefully pressed it into their hands and tucked in. The food was great, but the company was slightly strange. I soon realized who the boss was, a Mr Zoom. He appeared to have some sort of disagreement with a Thai guest. After he refused for some reason not to shake the hand of the Thai chap, the guest decided to go and sit in a corner, where he remained, despite the entreties of the rest of the fmaily, for the entire duration of the meal.
At one point, some guys arrived and joined us. One seemed quite geeky, but the other definately had an air of seriousness and almost menace about him. I had my suspicions that they were some sort of gangsters. I was told not to stand up when they arrived, and the meal soon ended, with Mr Zoom not looking happy. I returned to my room, tired, worried about the bike, but happy that I had been looked after so comprehensively by total strangers.
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Ms. Payne
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A fond tear rolls...
I only wish you would have told me these stories firsthand. And to be a fly on the wall as you sped by in the two-headed poncho! ;)