Vietnam:
Bikes and the Beach
Winter of 2010
1/4 Los Angeles
Kim and I, thanks to our friend Nancy, departed from our Ivin’s home at 2:15 P.M. dreading the endless journey ahead of us. All went well and before we knew it, we were looking down on the lights of Southern California.
After about a 45 minute struggle navigating LAX and making it through security, we had just been seated at our gate when we were amazed to hear, “We are looking for four volunteers....” Before the woman had her sentence finished, Kim had bounded out of her seat and was half way to the podium. “Yes,” she exclaimed. “We’ll volunteer for anything.” It did involve some pain, such as a 30 minute stand in line at the ticket desk, but it was well worth it. Soon we were on our way to spend a night at the Airport Hilton with $800 in our pockets. They also provided three square meals, an upgrade to business class and a voucher with other perks for future travel. Not a bad way to start our Asian adventure.
1/5 Los Angeles
After a very good night’s sleep at the Hilton, we had a leisurely morning of hanging out a the hotel eating. First it was using up our voucher for breakfast. Then, making sure that we didn’t waste our lunch voucher, we forced ourselves to eat again three hours later. It was really gross. I felt terrible.
We took the $5 shuttle to Manhattan Beach in the afternoon, where we walked the entire trail system paralleling the ocean. We really enjoyed it, as the temperature was optimal, it was interesting seeing the million dollar beach bungalows overlooking the beach and the exercise felt like heaven after hours of sitting around.
Upon returning to the airport, the people at Cathay Pacific again really impressed us. They remembered it was Kim’s birthday and were so friendly and helpful. We again volunteered to be bumped, so they sent us to the “Re Lax” lounge to chill until our flight, which was a $50 value. It was nice to be able to check the internet and sit back in comfortable chairs in a quiet environment, sipping a cold beer.
When we checked back at the Cathay desk a few hours later, we found that we were being bumped again. This time it was only for one hour, and unbelievably, they were giving us another $400 and had upgraded our tickets to business class. Cathay Pacific had become my all time favorite airline, hands down. Wow! Could life for a traveler be any better?
1/7 Hong Kong
Our 12 hour flight in business class started at 12:30 A.M. I was dragging so much by then and couldn’t wait to get on the plane, so when I settled into my business class cubicle, I almost immediately laid my seat out flat and went to sleep. Kim stayed up to dine on the four course meal, which she said was only “fair.”
We had planned to train into the city of Hong Kong to spend our eight hour layover, but when we arrived the area was enveloped in a heavy fog and it even felt cold in the airport. Quickly, we came to a consensus to hang out at the airport all day, since we were already feeling “jet lagged” and not really eager to pound the pavement in the cold.
Thankfully, we found another perk of Cathay Pacific - the lounge for business class travelers. We spent the next eight hours there, eating and drinking the free food and beverages, even though we weren’t hungry or thirsty. Bored and weary, we whiled away the hours playing on the computers and laying about in it’s serene atmosphere. It sure wasn’t heaven, but it did beat being homeless in downtown Hong Kong, walking around aimlessly in freezing temperatures.
1/8 Hanoi
Whoa! What a day! Hanoi is easily the most intense experience I’ve had on the planet. Simply walking down the street is a wild, colorful endeavor, not to mention the impossible, death defying act of actually crossing it.
Let me paint a picture of life in the old quarter of the city. Throngs of motor scooters are darting in every direction, driving against the traffic, on the sidewalks and into buildings. You see cars jockeying for crazily for position, tailgating each other within millimeters, and squeezing three abreast in one lane at the stop lights. There is a very loud, pervasive din of horns blasting, along with the revving scooter engines. Old women in conical hats are pushing bicycles laden with hundreds of freshly cut flowers, others line the sidewalks selling street meat cooked on small braziers, and you see a constant flow of people scurrying about doing their daily business. At least one third of them are masked. “Why?” you ask. Well, it’s because you can cut the air in Hanoi with a dull knife. A ubiquitous stale, grey smog envelopes the city. This toxic air not only burns your nostrils, but continually tickles the alveoli of your lungs, inducing an intermittent, hacking cough.
The buildings are typically old, in poor repair and have narrow, open store fronts, where merchandise is crammed into every square inch of retail space. Each block seems to have its specialty. For instance, we walked through the silk district, where every store sold silk clothing or silk goods. The next block was all hardware and so it went as we cruised through the neighborhood.
We started the day by taxiing to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, where we filed past his body, which has laid in state since the late 1960s. It was a very intense experience, one that the Vietnamese take very seriously. We left our packs and checked our cameras outside and then after removing our hats, were instructed to show respect by marching through the facility with straight, ramrod, soldier like posture.
The Communists have really worked hard to create a cult of personality, almost deifying Ho. The adjoining museum celebrates the struggle of the revolution and you get to see every aspect of how he lived and worked to bring independence to Vietnam. His image is everywhere in the city, along with the hammer and sickle. Even though one doesn’t see much in the way of centralized planning or government control of enterprise, the tenants of Soviet style socialism, Uncle Ho’s image and the party propaganda is found on nearly every street.
After the museum, we crawled into a pedicab and were immediately pedaled out into the chaos of Hanoi traffic. I knew I was going to die. Kim and I were facing a throng of oncoming scooters and taxi cabs racing towards us at high speed and we were clambering along at about four miles an hour in the middle of the street without a care in the world. In a panic, I looked back at our driver, a skinny old man who was piloting our bike. He just smiled and gave me the thumbs up. Everyone swerved around us, spraying us with a cloud of exhaust, but other than that, we survived unscathed.
A few nerve wracking minutes later, we arrived at the Temple of Literature, which is an ancient Confucian University. The architecture of the structure was beautiful, with sloping, Oriental tiled roof lines. Huge statues of Confucius and his disciples were housed in colorful rooms of reds and golds. The landscaping was a mixture of Bonsai trees and shrubs formed into images of monkeys and other mammals. Huge groups of young girls were everywhere, all dressed in the traditional Ao Dai, posing for pictures in this beautiful setting. One girl even asked to pose with us, her token Westerners.
Since we were too scared to walk across the street to get to any of the restaurants our hotel clerk, Lonn, had recommended, we opted to eat that night at the Hanoi Garden, a few yards down the street and around the corner. It was one of the great meals of my life. I had an outrageous pork in a coconut sauce and Kim had chicken and dumplings, which she said was good, but unexceptional. It was a great way to end our first full day in Vietnam.
1/9 Halong Bay
We started our day early with an 8:30 A.M. pickup for Halong Bay. The ride out of Hanoi was interesting, as we were able to see the more exclusive part of the city.
The over four hour drive to Halong City was beautiful and excruciatingly slow, with top speed on this major Vietnamese highway a screaming 40 miles an hour. We stopped at a huge tourist trap mega-store, which was selling everything from huge statues of Buddha to fine silk shirts. We didn’t buy anything, but it was interesting in that they had the sweat shop workers actually sewing the clothes and performing the intricate needle point landscapes that were absolutely massive in size. The sales person told us that it took each artist months to complete one picture, which sold for hundreds of dollars.
We saw gigantic factories, such as a huge Canon complex, and many new homes either being built or already constructed. Many of the homes, which are all very narrow, three or four story structures, had elaborate designs to differentiate their home from the ones nearby. I found the outward appearance of the architecture attractive.
Halong Bay is very beautiful and even with the heavy overcast and light fog, impressive. Huge limestone rocks jutted out of the sea in every direction. The closer rocks were dark blue and as you looked towards the horizon rocks of varying hues and shapes of blue to gray stood like sentinels guarding the South China Sea.
We almost immediately loaded up in a smaller boat and visited a huge limestone cavern. The government had built an extensive trail system through the cave, and it was lit with lights of different colors, making the stalactites and stalagmites appear to be almost magical.
Before dinner, the chef provided a cooking lesson on how to make Vietnamese egg rolls. Kim and I each fumbled around with the ingredients and rice paper to help make the first course of our night’s meal.
Dinner was amazing. Course after course came to our table, starting with soup and salad, and then encompassing tasty beef, chicken and pork dishes. We also enjoyed prawns and octopus, and had Japanese pears for desert. Even though we had been eating for well over an hour, I never got the feeling of uncomfortable full - the stomach popping sensation. It was really a delight.
1/10 Cat Ba Island
At about 9:30 A.M. the boat arrived to take us from the Phoenix junk to Cat Ba Island. I had no idea that the best part of the Halong Bay experience was to be this “taxi.” Our boat motored between endless rock pillars protruding from the ocean, each one with its unique form and coloration. Even though it was raw freezing cold, Kim and I sat on the upper deck braving the elements to enjoy the magnificence of the unbelievable scenery.
A man was waiting for us at the wharf and we were immediately whisked off on a short 30 minute drive across the island to the Suoi Goi Resort, an isolated “dude farm” with tasteful, traditional Vietnamese architecture and a gorgeous setting.
After another huge meal, six or seven courses, we were given bright orange hard hats, gloves and a pick and shovel. We walked to a nearby hillside, where we found a small grove of trees that had been planted by tourists within the last year. Each tree had a sign by it indicating the planter and his/her home country. Soon Kim and I had three trees in the ground advertising Star Valley, Wyoming. It was really goofy in a way, but in another it was really nice to do something positive for the Earth while engaging in a hedonistic vacation.
The owner of the lodge, Mr. Hung, and his cute little guide, Ting, took us on a local tour that afternoon. We visited a pig farm, a religious shrine, a local community garden and the mangrove forest lining the beach. It was a very interesting, satisfying day.
1/11 Cat Ba Island
After our breakfast, our guide took us to Cat Ba National Park, where we embarked on a hike up to a scenic overlook of the island. The ascent was fairly steep, with many huge boulders that one had to scramble up and over, and it had several ladders to be climbed. Just as we reached the tower overlooking the island, a cold drizzle started that would continue for the rest of the day. We soon found out that wet limestone is no fun to walk on, as it has all the properties of greased snot. The hike wasn’t anything amazing, but the views from the summit were very nice. I thanked the Lord that we hadn’t elected for the nine mile cross island marathon, as Cat Ba is filled with steep, rugged, limestone mountains that would have been Hell in the rain.
We were then taken to Hospital Cave, which is a cave that was converted into an infirmary during the war. Apparently, the North Vietnamese felt their sick and wounded mid level officers would only be safe from the B-52 bombers in this huge cavern, which had been divided by cement walls into many different rooms. Amazingly, it was warm in the cave, while it was freezing cold outside. We talked to our guide about the war and he made it clear that he harbors no hostility towards the U.S., and I got the feeling that this is the general attitude of all Vietnamese.
We ended our tour by going to Cat Ba City, which is a Vietnamese mega resort town. Hotel after hotel lined the beach front, and new construction of additional hotels clearly pointed to the fact that this was one happening place in the summer. However, on this cold, rainy, dreary January day, it was like a ghost town, with an occasional scooter buzzing by us on wet road way. We walked the beach front for over an hour in the rain, which wasn’t wonderful, but it sure beat life in Hanoi.
After our usual six course meal that night, the staff of Siou Goi gave Kim the best possible birthday present ever - a cake, flowers, and then afterwards, a long, friendly discussion where we laughed endlessly while attempting to converse about a wide range of topics. These people were excellent representatives for tourism in Vietnam. We were both sad to leave cold and rainy Siou Goi.
1/12 Hanoi
Every trip has its depressing, difficult days and today was the low point of our short Vietnam experience. We started the trip back to the city at 8:00 A.M. with a ride across the ruggedly beautiful island. We then boarded the Phoenix for a three hour ride back to the port, where we were stuffed into the back of a small Japanese microbus with 14 other human beings. Just the body heat alone made it intolerable. Unfortunately, we had the antithesis of your typical Vietnamese driver. He was so slow, so careful, that I thought we would never arrive back in Hanoi to be released from our tin can prison.
1/13 Hanoi
It was a rather wasted day, as we milled around waiting for our scheduled 2:00 P.M. meeting with Pedal Tours. Kim and I were more than a little upset when we found out at 2:00 that the meeting had changed to 6:00 P.M. Instead to going to a museum or the water puppet show, we had wasted away an entire day hanging out at our hotels.
We walked about ten blocks from our hotel for dinner with the rest of the tour participants. It was another multi-course Asian delight.
1/14 Hue
Neither Kim or I had slept well in our fancy hotel’s environs, so when our 4:00 A.M. wake up call came it was the start of a very long, very busy, very exhausting day.
We arrived in Hue early in the morning and immediately loaded into the tour’s Mercedes vans to be whisked off to the Vietnamese Emperor Bo Dai’s tomb. Even though I was dragging, our guide, Nhan, made the experience come alive. He provided colorful insight into the lives of the Vietnamese royalty, which coupled with the majestic structures, made it a wonderful experience.
Our next tour was even more impressive. We visited the Citadel, a huge fortress that the royal family had first started building in 1805. It was enormous, with endless structures built for the Emperor’s family, numerous wives and concubines. Sadly, much of it was destroyed by American bombs during the Tet Offensive in 1968.
After another amazing multi-course meal at an upper scale Vietnamese restaurant for lunch, we returned to our hotel to finally check in and be fitted for our bikes.
1/15 Hue
Thanks be to Jesus we finally, finally got on our bikes, the whole reason for coming to Vietnam. Nhan and the crew drove us away from the chaos of downtown Hue at 7:30 A.M. and dropped us off about 15 miles down the road at a small park near the beach. We started out riding through a continuous string of sleepy rural villages. People were everywhere. Scooters scurried down the narrow, paved road with cargoes of baby pigs, chickens and produce. Young and old people pedaled junky old bicycles, who we passed like we were riding rockets from another age, even though we were only averaging 12-14 mph.
The glowing, lush, green rice fields were filled with farmers transplanting their crop. We saw small wagons filled with rice shoots being pulled by water buffalo. Ancient matriarchs in conical hats ambled along the edge of the road and everywhere there were young children running out of their houses to greet us like we were rock stars. “Hello, hello, hello,” echoed from every direction. Hands were extended for high fives and smiles the size of Texas greeted us. I felt like I was riding the Tour de France and had my own personal legion of followers.
After our typical Vietnamese seven course lunch at a beach resort, Pedal Tours loaded us into the vans to ascend a mountain pass along the coast. As our van powered up switchback after switch back, Kim and I nervously looked outside. Rain pelted our windows and a dense fog covered the mountain side. Finally, two kilometers short of the summit, our guide dropped us off to begin our afternoon. Initially, it was like pedaling inside a full milk bottle; everything was white. You could barely see the road in front of you, not to mention anything else. I pushed myself up the steep switchbacks, since I feared meeting my maker via the descending, out of control 18 wheeler. The rain, more of a light warm mist, stung my eyes, but my hands were what really suffered. I braked so hard on the way down to stay under control, that my hands throbbed by the time I made the bottom, where it had cleared up enough to see into the distance.
Soon we were pedaling through the outskirts of Danang and by the famous G. I. haven, China Beach. Just as life was again starting to look up and I was loving riding Vietnam, the weather took an abrupt change. The skies opened up with a total deluge. This time it was no light mist. It was a hard driving rain, accompanied by a huge tail wind; it was the definition of the word “misery.” On we pedaled, our eye lids squinting down to the narrowest possible of slits to protect against the pounding rain. Thank God, the stiff breeze at our backs propelled us forward with minimal effort. As we neared the 80 KM optional end of our day, Larry, Peter, Brit and I took off like race horses, averaging around 40 kph for the last few miles. Amazingly, perhaps stupidly, considering that we were soaking wet and fatigued, Kim and I opted to ride the final twelve miles to our hotel in Hoi An. It was like we were crazed to do it all.
When we got into our room, Kim and I jumped into the shower together, where we took turns washing and scrubbing pounds of sand out of our bike clothing and off our legs. After we were finished, the bottom of our bath tub resembled the Mohave Desert during the summer monsoon season.
In retrospect, it was a wonderful day. It had been an idyllic morning pedal through the serene country side, where we were we able to see a traditional Vietnamese marriage and have lunch on a gorgeous beach. However, I think the best part of the whole experience was the wild struggle for survival in the afternoon. I will never forget it. We had ridden 60, very colorful, very exciting miles.
1/16 Hoi An
We started the day with a city tour, which entailed a superfluous five minute boat ride, a wander through the Saturday market and several temples, historical sites and other areas of interest. By far and away, the best part of the day was a musical/dance performance by a traditional Vietnamese group.
I don’t want to sound like an old pervert, but the young girls in the dance troupe were some of the most strikingly beautiful human beings I’ve ever seen. Vietnamese girls are truly stunning.
The rest of the day was kind of a waste. Sure we went through the process of buying our first hand tailored clothing, which was kind of exciting, but it was really a gray, drizzly, depressing day. Our room was cold, with no heat source available, and walking around didn’t seem to be very exciting in the rain. Vietnam had lost some of its magic. I simply wanted to see the sun again.
Thankfully, we enjoyed a wonderful meal at the Morning Glory that night. I had caramelized pork, which was absolutely divine, while Kim had an average prawn curry. The salad, a mango-shrimp-noodle concoction, stole the show. It was Vietnamese fusion at its best.
1/17 Quang Ngai
After our early morning ride through the absolute chaos of Hoi An, we found ourselves on narrow country roads pedaling by endless rice paddies, small villages and over rolling green hills. It was so beautiful.
Our first break came at a small farm, where we learned how to make rice paper, which is ultimately used to make spring rolls.
We rode up a slight incline for the last 10-15 kilometers to end the morning at a crocodile farm. We then loaded on the buses for an hour long ride to our lunch spot, where we had a simple lunch of chicken and rice.
The afternoon ride was incredibly gorgeous. We again experienced masses of cheering children, people working in the rice fields and a countryside that looked like it hadn’t changed significantly in the last 100 years. I really loved it.
Our day ended at the Mai Lai Massacre site. It was a depressing and somber experience, but I’m glad I had the opportunity to see it. Monuments to the barbarity of warfare should be compulsory for all of humanity.
1/18 Qui Nhon
For the first time since we arrived in Vietnam, I was uncomfortably hot at times. It was so good to actually sweat and feel thirsty while exercising, a totally alien concept so far in our Asia 2010 experience.
Initially, our day looked like it was going to be a disaster. We were caught in a traffic jam outside a small village, where a semi rig had rolled over in the middle of the road. Vehicles were backed up for miles. We would move a few yards and then sit for another 10-15 minutes before moving again. This situation went on forever. Finally, after about an hour stuck in the back of our van, Nhan and our Pedaltours crew made the brilliant move of putting us on our bikes. We rolled about 12 KM up the highway, zig zagging through the stalled trucks and cars before we finally made it to freedom.
After pedaling another ten kilometers we veered off Highway One onto a narrow country road running along the coast. Again, it was the story or small villages filled with friendly people, endless rice paddies with the backdrop of rugged mountains, and an occasional dip down to the coastline, where huge waves crashed onto the beach.
It was a different kind of Vietnam bike ride, as we pounded the pedals up three mountain passes. The first one made a believer out of us. It was about a mile of 10% grade. Needless to say, I was quite pleased to reach the summit.
A real cultural bonanza came right before we loaded up in the vans to go to lunch. About 50 students from a nearby elementary school grouped around us like we were movie stars. Soon, we were taking group photos with the kids, teaching them jaded phrases in English and leading them in spirited cheers. I not only taught them how to yell, “Oh my God!”, but led them in a rousing course of “Viva Vietnam!”
We had a delicious lunch at a truck stop like restaurant, which included pork ribs, a pork knuckle soup, and a fish plate. They served mangos to “die for” for dessert.
The afternoon ride was more eye candy. It was more glowing green rice patties, mountains, pristine beaches and small hamlets. We also rode through many herds of Brahma cattle being driven along the road.
The apex of the day came with our arrival at Qui Nhon, a dumpy, dirty city of about 350,000 people. As our Mercedes vans wound through the busy, rush hour traffic, I wondered about Nhan’s statement that we were going to stay at the nicest resort of our Pedaltours’ experience. He was right on the money. The Royal Hotel is easily the nicest place I’ve ever had the opportunity to sleep at. As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on my balcony listening to the waves crashing on the beach right below me. The room itself is about half the size of our Utah home and finished with old world, regal sophistication. The lobby of the hotel has the feel of Old Faithful Lodge. After our night at the Royal, it may be difficult to get Kim back to our $22 a night, two star, Charming Hotels in this world.
1/19 Nha Trang
Our morning ride of 25 KM was along an undulating coastal road. It was a quiet area with minimal traffic and great ocean views, which included a section with endless fish farms floating placidly on the ocean. Each farm, typically a small floating hut and walkway, was surrounded by numerous pens, where a wide variety of sea food was being raised.
We had another wonderful lunch at a real Vietnamese restaurant, meaning that the locals actually ate at this place, before hopping on our bikes for our afternoon’s work.
Initially, we rode through an urban area with quite a bit of traffic and a really crappy road. For the first time, we actually needed our fat tired hybrids, as I bounced through a few chuck holes the size of small automobiles. About 10 miles into our journey we roared by an old American Air Base, whose cement hangers had once stored fighter jets, but the land had now reverted to agriculture.
I came upon the trip’s only major crisis when I descended a long hill to find numerous fish and shrimp farms. As I looked down the road, I noticed our Pedaltours van parked in the middle of the road and a group of people gathered around with bicycles laying everywhere. Immediately, a sick feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. I pushed hard to the accident site, dropped my bicycle off of the road and hustled to the edge of the crowd. I looked down to see Bob Wilding laying on his back, with a pool of blood seeping from his head. It looked terrible. I felt powerless to help. Then, like a ray of light, Bob said he wanted to get up and started to struggle upward against the wishes of the people surrounding him. I knew he was going to live at that point. Bob is the perfect example of the term, “Tough old bird.”
We finished the rest of the ride feeling rather down. Bob had been taken to the hospital, along with the tour doctor, Jay, and the tour nurse, Diane, and we had no idea how he was doing. Therefore, we all pedaled the remaining miles with a somewhat empty feeling. It was hard to have fun when so much was running through your mind.
After another two hour bus ride into Nha Trang, we pulled up in front of a sparkling, brand new high rise hotel, the Novotel. With a gorgeous view of the beach, and a modern, almost futuristic room, we had nearly beaten the previous night’s accommodations. Could life be any better for the bicycle tourist?
Dinner was at a traditional Vietnamese barbeque, where we cooked our own meals on small grills. We had tuna, squid, beef and shrimp and way, way too much beer. It was really an enjoyable evening.
1/20 Nha Trang
Thankfully, it was a day off from the trials and tribulations of cycling. Unfortunately, both Kim and I were feeling punky, suffering from a respiratory/sinus infection.
Our day started on a tour of an aquarium, which was pleasant but nothing fabulous. We then walked through a small fishing village located on an island. Nhan stated that many of the men die each year in fishing accidents and that life is very difficult for the surviving families. I really enjoyed seeing the simple lives of these people. Men sat around playing dominos, we saw a woman working with an old pedal sewing machine, men mending nets and of course, children everywhere. After this tour, we paid $1.00 each for a ride out to our tour boat in one of the traditional Vietnamese round boats. Two friendly, middle aged women, wearing the conical hats and masks, operated the paddles.
Our next stop was snorkeling. The visibility was marginal and the coral wasn’t that impressive. However, it was fun being in the water again, even though I wasn’t feeling 100%.
We then had a long lunch at another island resort. We sat around afterward and visited with Nhan about his life in Vietnam. It was really interesting; he talked about how his dad had served in the South Vietnamese army and had been sent off to a reeducation center after to the war. He described the early years of Soviet style communism, where life became very difficult and all that people had to eat was sweet potatoes. Nhan says he can’t eat sweet potatoes to this day because of it. He expressed that his dream is to join other family members in the United States, so that his children can get a good education and have a bright future.
Both Kim and I had $10 massages from a masseuse on our boat. They were good, but since neither of us felt that great, we didn’t really love them. The woman made $50 off of our boat that day, which was a grand day, considering that the average monthly income for Vietnam is $200.
Our day ended with a tour of the local Cham temple, which was Hindu and a bit different from the Buddhist temples that we had visited previously. By the time we had finished with the temple tour, I felt terrible. I went right back to our room, drank about three gallons of tea and then went to sleep. I probably slept over 10 hours.
1/21 Buon Ma Thout
Our ride started on a narrow, potholed road. I must admit, I didn’t start the day with my typical enthusiasm for biking, as I still felt ill from the day before. Even the scenery and friendly people failed to excite me. However, as the day wore on, I got into my groove more and was able to find some joy in the process.
We rode through the Central Highlands, which meant the transition from flat and rice paddies to undulating mountain roads with large logging operations and coffee plantations.
Possibly the biggest excitement of Buon Ma Thout was buying two pounds of “Weasel Shit Coffee” for around $17.00. Nhan explained that some brilliant Vietnamese had discovered some beans that a weasel had shit out after eating the coffee berries. He roasted these beans, ground them up and made coffee. It was wonderful. Way superior. Initially, people would look for weasel scat to pick up in the wild. Today, our weasel shit coffee is manufactured in massive quantities in giant warehouses, where apparently thousands of weasels are feed coffee berries morning, noon and night.
After my “sickness from Hell” in Nha Trang, I was amazing how quickly my body recovered. Even Kim, who started the day a frail, pasty white, ended the ride feeling good about cycling Vietnam.
1/22 Dalat
For the first time in three days I felt human again. The Canadian flu, spread through our group by Laurie and Peter, had floored both Kim and I. It was low grade fever, body aches, sinus congestion and then ultimately, the trots.
We started our day by busing to a smaller, ethnic community in the foothills of the mountains, where we rode elephants. The ride, which was only thirty minutes, was interesting. The driver seemed powerless as the elephants tore into a farmer’s bags of tapioca and didn’t move until they had decided to move. The ride also took us across a lake, with the water level nearly covering the backs of these huge mammals. One couldn’t help but wonder about the likelihood of getting wet.
The first part of the day was amazing. We zig zagged up a steep mountain pass and then rolled through brilliantly green, undulating highland valleys. Other than an occasional herd of cattle or a farmer on his Chinese manufactured rototiller tractor carrying a cargo of tapioca root to market, it was a quiet, desolate road. I loved it.
As the day wore on we rode into Vietnam’s coffee heartland. The mountainsides were filled with white, fragrant blooms of the coffee bush and the houses started to get bigger and more elaborate. Coffee has obviously made this region a much more affluent part of Vietnam than anything we had seen in the north.
We drove into Dalat late in the evening. On our way we saw huge valleys filled with green houses, which apparently supply flowers and vegetables for much of Asia. The city, which was started as a summer recreational destination for the colonial French, is very different from Northern Vietnam. The streets are wide, the buildings are huge, ornate and well kept, and generally, it is pleasing to the eye. Other than Nha Trang, it is easily the nicest place we have visited in Vietnam.
1/23 Dalat
With Kim being extremely ill, we opted to spend a slow day. We took the morning tour with Nhan to see the last Vietnamese Emperor’s, Bảo Đại, summer palace. It was built in 1931 with an art deco, Frank Lloyd Wright sort of a design, but today is thread bare in essence. Everything looked worn down and beat up, except the grounds, which had some nice flowers.
After the summer palace we were taken to the Crazy House, a quasi-tree house, cement abortion that was connected by numerous narrow, jungle like, elevated walkways. It had been designed by Hang Nga, the daughter of a Communist leader who became President of Vietnam in the 1980s. Obviously she used her father’s position in the party to get the funding to construct this nutty, compartmentalized, no sense structure, which says a lot for the equality promised by the Communist faithful. We were lucky to see Hang, now in her 70s, looking like a walking and talking version of Michael Jackson’s corpse due to all of her plastic surgery.
Perhaps the most interesting part of the day came with my short walk. I strolled towards the downtown district, thinking that I would simply do a big square and return to our hotel an hour later. I have never been so lost in a city in my life. With the streets heading off at odd angles, my steady collections of lefts left me dazed and confused. I was reduced to asking directions four separate times to find my way home.
1/24 Golden Coast Resort
Our day started off with a painful 1.5 hour bus ride from Dalat to a small village. By the time we crawled out of the back seat, both Kim and I were “green around the gills” car sick.
The biking began with 4-5 miles up a 10% grade, which blew Kim out of the water immediately. Pasty white and sweating profusely, she was gasping, hacking and coughing from the moment we started. Thankfully, she begrudgingly hopped in the van and rode it to our lunch spot, which was at 38 KM. Later we found out that Fu, our erstwhile mechanic, had over tightened her brakes in advance of the big descent we were to ride, making it doubly hard for her to power her bike up the steep grade.
The last 70 KM of the ride was wonderful. We roared down steep switchbacks, braking the entire way. At first we were surrounded by flowering coffee bushes, banana trees and sporadic jungle. Then, after a lunch of junk food at an impoverished, high elevation village, we found ourselves flying through a narrow, winding corridor of dense vegetation. Giant stands of bamboo and thirty foot tall, large leaved house plants, such as Golden Pothos, towered over us. It was cool beyond description.
Finally we broke out into the coastal plain, where we found a stiff tail wind to push us along at 30-34 KPH effortlessly. At the day’s end, I had ridden 53 miles and felt totally fresh, other than the nagging, quarter size blisters on my sit bones from the crappy seat on my ancient Trek hybrid.
Our lodging for the night was at the Golden Coast Resort, another four star accommodation. I wanted to swim in the ocean, but the windy conditions and rough sea made the pool a much better choice. I must say that the cool pool water coupled with a a frosty Saigon Beer was the perfect balm for my hot, sticky body.
1/25 Loc An Resort
My birthday ride was flat, wind aided and unexceptional. For the first time since we started the trip, I wasn’t stopping to photograph every cute little girl standing by the road, or taking pictures of each bull pulling a loaded cart of rice straw from a field. The road, for the most part, was smooth and wide, but it didn’t matter. I had reached my “fill” of biking Vietnam.
Our lunch break came at only 11:00 A.M., since we as a group had torn up the road, arriving an hour ahead of the typical Pedaltours group. All of the food was good, but we just picked at it since we had had a monster breakfast a few hours previously.
Our hotel for the night, the Loc An Resort, was very average. However, I made the best of it, and had a young man punt me across the shallow river in a small boat to to play in the waves. Even though it wasn’t fabulous body surfing, I enjoyed being back in the ocean.
The day ended with our official Pedaltours banquet. The food, mostly seafood, was excellent, but the real bonus was my birthday party. The staff rolled out a cake with half of its candles lit and sporadically sparkling sparklers to a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Then, to my amazement, the owner of the Loc An Resort have me a wrapped present - three small green statues of Confucius and a tiny book covering the touristic highlights of Vietnam. It was really sweet.
After that we gave the crew their tips and had a short session reflecting on our two week experience. Many positive things were expressed about the crew, the people of Vietnam and how the nation was headed towards a bright future. It was a nice way to end the trip.
1/26 Saigon
The Loc An Resort was kind of a come down after the grandeur we had grown accustomed to on the trip. Therefore, when we realized that we were destined to listen to trucks flying by on the highway, located inches from our room, all night, it became rather depressing and our rest was fitful at best. Therefore, we started our last day of pedaling with dread.
Even though it wasn’t even 7:30 A.M., the heat and humidity were crippling. Our route was a gradual climb through agricultural areas interspersed with small towns. Poor Kim, white as a sheet and dripping sweat, labored up the road. I did better, but just barely. I wasn’t excited about riding bicycle in the least.
After we had completed our 41 KM ride, we loaded up in the buses for our 2 1/2 hour trip into Saigon. As we approached the city, traffic snarled to a crawl due to an accident. It was torture sitting in the van when one could have walked down the road into the city much more quickly.
In reflecting on Pedaltours and our 415 mile ride across Vietnam, I would say that they really have an excellent product. Much of this due to one personable, hard working individual, Nhan. The biggest negative was my bike - extremely old and in marginal repair. We stayed in fabulous hotels, with a couple of exceptions, and ate well. However, by the end of the trip, I could have gagged on having one more “family style,” seven course Vietnamese meal. It was all tasting the same, no matter if you were eating a spring roll or fish. My taste buds couldn’t wait to get back to the United States, home of the best variety of food in the world.
1/27 Saigon
It was our first day of freedom. I started the day by walking about a mile and a half to buy our bus tickets in the suffocating, morning heat through the noise, oppressive air pollution and traffic congestion that exemplify Ho Chi Minh City.
Saigon is big city crazy, with seemingly five million scooters roaring down your particular street at all times, each blowing exhaust in your face . Both Kim and I were coughing, hacking and gasping for air from the minute we rolled into the city. On the other hand, it has wide sidewalks that you can actually walk on, beautiful modern buildings and classic old structures, such as the Opera House. While Hanoi was drab and depressing, Saigon is vibrant, trendy and exciting.
We spent the afternoon at the old Presidential Palace, which was built in the mid 1960s for the leadership of the South Vietnamese regime. It is a huge, mostly tacky structure that looks today like it did when the South fell in 1975. If I learned anything from the experience, it was that Nguyên Van Thiêu and his crew were trying to build an almost regal image, while the average citizen in the countryside was living in third world poverty. No wonder they aligned themselves with the Communists, who promised equality.
1/28 Mui Ne
We left HCMC for the fresh air and relative quiet of the beach. With Saigon’s pollution and heat, and Kim’s poor health, we thought the brisk ocean breezes of Mui Ne would be beneficial.
Neither of us enjoyed the nearly five hour bus ride, but once I dove into the pool, my attitude had improved considerably. Our hotel, the Tien Dat, was only three stars, but extremely comfortable for $49 a night.
1/29 Mui Ne
It was a lazy day. After breakfast, we headed to the beach, where I did a bit of swimming but found the ocean a little too violent for my liking.
We had a nice afternoon walk as our highlight, which means it was a pretty slow day. Never the less, it was probably the best thing we could do for our health. And... it sure beat life in the city.
1/30 Mui Ne
After I had crawled out of the ocean after being buffeted around by the breakers, I was surprised to find an old friend, Mike Hull, standing next to Kim. For the next four hours we caught up on all that had transpired since our days in Lower Yukon. It was nice to see him again after all of these years.
We ate our best meal in Mui Ne that afternoon at a busy local cafe and then returned to the hotel pool, where I swam laps and laid around reading.
1/31 Saigon
As we sat around on the beach under our umbrella, I couldn’t help but reflect on the overwhelming Russian presence in Mui Ne. Nearly all of the signs and menus are in both Russian and Vietnamese, and by far and away, most of the tourists seemed to be from the old Soviet Union.
Even though they come in all body types, with a few skinny, petite girls in two pieces and guys with excellent builds, most of the Russians we saw had moved into the obese column many pounds ago. Even so, they wear the smallest of bikinis or speedos and don’t seem to think anything of it when their flab spills out everywhere. Women flaunt their large, sagging breasts, while men happily splash around in the waves with their custom built 50 pound beer bellies jiggling about wildly.
I also noticed that they seem rather reserved and don’t really offer up a smile very easily. Unfortunately, some of them seemed to have a rather condescending attitude towards the Vietnamese staff waiting on them.
Upon reaching Saigon, we found the area of our hotel to be the epicenter of the city’s Tet Celebration. Throngs of scooters, some with families of four, were massed so thickly in the street that our taxi could hardly move in making progress towards our hotel.
Once we finally checked in, I took off to walk the streets to see the action. It was magical. I slowly moved with thousands of happy Vietnamese through brightly lit displays surrounded by gorgeous arrangements of flowers. Dragon dancers and beautiful young girls in their traditional Vietnamese Ao Dais made it electric. After I had made one round through the main celebration, I went to get Kim so that she could enjoy the festivities. It is one cultural event that I will never forget.
2/1 Phu Quoc
I couldn’t believe my eyes. After the mega-air pollution of Saigon, we flew for 50 minutes to a small, agricultural island. Initially, upon landing, we drove through a dumpy, dirty little town, and I started to fret. However, as soon as I eyed the beach at the Seastar Resort, I knew that Kim had picked correctly. It was paradise.
We spent the afternoon in bath tub temperature water, literally swimming for 30 minutes at a crack. It was magnificent.
The simply designed, two star resort is fairly large and is surrounded by other resorts on both sides, but has the atmosphere of a monastery. For the first time in over a week, I was really happy to be on the road again in Vietnam.
2/2 Phu Quoc
We really didn’t do anything notable, but we had a fabulous day. I walked into town, about two miles, to get Kim more medicine, and then spent the remainder of the day lazing around on the beach.
Both of us enjoyed an hour long, full body massage by an 80 pound woman with hands like vice grips. It was so, so good. And get this, it was $3.00 per session.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed water more than at Phu Quoc. And I’m pretty sure that Kim would concur. At one point, she had been swimming for 55 minutes without a break when she finally made her way back to her beach lounge chair.
That night, Mike Hull treated us to pizza, beer and many tales of his adventures.
2/3 Phu Quoc
Kim and I loaded up with John’s Tours at 8:30 A.M. We were driven to the southern tip of the island, where we boarded a small tour boat with 19 other tourists. We cruised between small islands, actually stopping at a floating fish farm to buy our lunch.
We then went snorkeling twice in two different spots. There weren’t really all that many big fish, but the multi-shaped and colored coral formations were quite nice. The tour then took us by bus to an isolated beach, which was nice, but no better than the one in front of our hotel. The day ended with the mandatory stop at a pearl shop, where we were able to see how they grow and harvest the pearls for jewelry. Since we got to spend more than an hour in the water snorkeling, I was happy with the tour.
2/4 Phu Quoc
As the days rolled by at the Seastar, I found myself still totally happy, which is an odd phenomenon. Typically, I burn out on beach life fairly quickly and want to move on to our next adventure.
I wasn’t even that nice of a day, windy and partly cloudy, but it was all still very enjoyable. Perhaps it was Lep’s hour long massage, the best I’ve had since leaving Bolivia, or the delicious fish in a tamarind sauce for dinner that night, but at the end of the day I was still pleased to be on Phu Quoc lazing about endlessly. I can easily say that this has been my favorite part of the Vietnam experience.
2/5 Phu Quoc
It was the last day of our near perfect Seastar experience. I took my hour long walk, we both swam an hour in the ocean and we each enjoyed an hour long, full body massage. We ended our day with our favorite dishes at the resort’s dynamic little restaurant, sitting at water’s edge, looking out at the oranges, pinks and reds in the sky as the sun went down. Could life get any better?
In reflecting on our trip, I would say that the Vietnamese are some of the hardest workers in the world. With an average per capita income of $1200 a year, the people here labor long hours each day with little time off. At our restaurant at the resort, our favorite little waitress was waiting for us each morning for our 7:00 A.M. breakfast and still there at night to serve us our 7:30 P.M. dinner. I would venture to guess that she hardly ever got a day off, as she was there all five of the days we laid about the beach. The girl who measured me for my new hand tailored travel pants told pretty much the same story. Endless hours, little pay and very, very few days off.
It’s a hard life for the little guy in Vietnam, but I really got the feeling that life is getting better all of the time. When you look back at the early days of Soviet style centralized planning, where people had a hard time finding enough to eat, and you compare it to today’s 7% annual increase in GDP, you can understand why the people put up with the Communist dictatorship. Still, with the present high rate of inflation and low wages, it has to be hard to make ends meet. I tipped a lot on the trip because of my empathy for these people. My only regret is that I didn’t tip more.
It is also sad to the see the evolution of the tourist industry on Phu Quoc. We talked to an Irish couple who have been coming to the island for a few years. They commented that a whole new road and a plethora of new resorts had been built in the past few years. Even though the expansion helps the local economy and provides needed jobs, I know that ultimately it will turn our quaint, quiet, tropical paradise into the madness of the Thai mega-resorts. It will be high rises, hookers, private beaches and golf courses. This thought really saddens me.
2/6 Saigon
It was a day in limbo, as we got into Saigon too late to really do much.
Due to it being Sunday and a holiday, the chaos of the city was turned down a notch. We walked to the market, where we found nearly everything shut down. I don’t think we would have found a tremendous variety of merchandise there anyway, as nearly every stall sold the same items.
I feel like we’re just treading water waiting to go home. I’m really ready to be back in Ivins, Utah.
2/7 Saigon
We took a three hour bus ride to the controversial Chu Chi tunnels, a 250 Square KM subterranean complex of tunnels and bunkers that housed 16,000 people during the war. Apparently, the U.S. had implemented a scorched earth policy in this region, located about 60KM outside of Saigon, so the only option available to the Viet Cong and their families, other than relocation, was to dig this multi-level tunnel complex.
I had read on travel blogs about the anti-American propaganda at Chu Chi and had heard that some Americans had been poorly treated by guides on their visit there. We experienced none of this. We found it to be more of a celebration of the ingenuity of the local people, who were vastly outgunned by the American forces, but still kept up the fight against overwhelming odds. It showed how they were ultimately able to survive and win the war, utilizing a collection of brilliant offensive and defensive tactics.
The pit traps, with a wide array of methods used to impale the enemy, were particularly gory, but ingeniously designed. Displays also showed how the Viet Cong would take unexploded American bombs and artillery shells, parts of the area were vaporized by American carpet bombing, and carefully saw them apart to design their own improvised explosive devices, which were then carefully hidden in areas where American troops were apt to walk or drive.
Defensively, they made rotating door, pit traps to skewer the German Shepherd dogs that were used by the Americans to smell out tunnel entrances. Ingeniously, the Cong also engineered a layering of tunnels and bunkers in their complex, and had trap doors to minimize the impact of gassing and flooding the system. They designed multiple routes in the tunnels, so that the unknowing G.I. who entered the system often found himself in a dead end. Our guide explained that the Cong would then release a poisonous snake in the dead end passage, so that when the American retreated, he would be bitten.
Perhaps the highlight of the day was actually descending into a short section of the tunnel system, which was small, hot and uncomfortable. We also dropped into a tiny, camouflaged fox hole, in which a Cong soldier would quietly hide all day. We barely had room to stand, much less squat down. I couldn’t imagine spending a day in one of these tiny rat holes.
As I walked by the pit traps, with their wide array of methods used to impale the unsuspecting G.I.s, or saw the burned out American tank that we climbed up on, I was sad for the over 58,000 Americans who gave their lives here. The methods used by the Cong were brutal and I hated to think about my American brothers who died at their hands, but then again, we didn’t exactly fight the war with squirt guns and rubber bands. Over three million Vietnamese lost their lives in the war.
Kim and I paid an extra $20 to ride a boat back into Saigon. It wasn’t wonderful, but it sure beat riding back to the city in a bus.
2/8 Saigon
It was our last full day in Vietnam. We were getting use to the oppressive gray haze in the air, horns blaring continuously and the absolutely suicidal mission of crossing the street through the weaving and darting scooters and automobiles.
I had actually grown to enjoy walking around our neighborhood, backpacker’s alley in District One of the old city. It was a veritable feast for the eyes. Women manned small charcoal barbecues on the sidewalk, making chicken and beef, while locals were seated around her on tiny stools sipping on beer and conversing while enjoying lunch. As you stepped off the sidewalk to get around them, you dodged a continuous flow of scooters roaring every which way on the busy street, each honking its horn and barely swerving to miss you. A few feet farther down the street sat beautiful, young bar girls in short skirts at the entrances to their establishments, perched like honey to attract their prey. Massage hawkers would implore you to have your muscles kneaded, continually handing you advertisers listing all their services. And yes, like all big cities, there were occasional beggars, typically without legs due to the war, pleading with their eyes for a few dong. Tiny women carried around mammoth stacks of English literature on their shoulders, going from tourist to tourist in their attempt at a sale. Although I never did pull out my wallet, I felt compelled to buy a book simply to lessen their load, which had to be a minimum of 30 pounds.
We spent our last Vietnam morning back at the market, where we happily bargained over buying a $12 mask, some wooden salad spoons and a large plastic bag to carry it all back to the United States. I also bought new pair of Crocs for $12 and we walked through numerous art galleries looking for the perfect painting.
The afternoon took us to the War Remnants Museum. The most powerful image of this experience was seeing the terrible impact of Agent Orange, which is still causing birth defects and health issues in modern day Vietnam. Other displays told the history of the conflict, from the French experience through the ultimate Communist victory in 1975. Some of the displays vilified the American war effort, emphasizing the impact of the bombing campaign and the brutality of G.I.s in places like Mai Lai. However, neither Kim or I felt that they were overly unfair towards the U.S., but I strongly felt that the Communist regime was very biased against the South, which they referred to as the “puppet” Saigon regime. It was hardly mentioned in discussion of the war. It was as if Diem, Thieu and Ky, plus the millions of people in Saigon and across the south who feared Communism and wanted Western style democracy, hadn’t really existed. It had all been a war against foreign aggression to achieve Vietnamese sovereignty. There had been no civil war.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the museum for me was seeing the old American jets, helicopters, tanks and artillery pieces, which fell into Vietnamese hands with the fall of the South in 1975. I had read about them for years, and to actually see them was really fascinating.
