nha trang is a mostly ok town, but its dirty belly is exposed for all to see as soon as the bars start closing, which is pretty early, and once all the touristy stuff has been done, it can be like watching a movie twice or three times in a row. our guardians have been working hard to keep us out of hoi an for some reason. we were stuck in na trang for a total of 8 days i think, a quite unnecessary length of time. 5 of these days were over a weeked to extend our vietnam visas for a month, but we met some cool cats and hung out drinking with them for a few days. after an especially frenzied drinking session i freaked out and tried to run home back to our guesthouse leaving our friends and lissa in a state of confusion. a motorcycle guy followed me for most of the way trying to sell me a trip home or drugs or something, i cant remember. i tried to give him the slip but was too far gone and gave myself the slip by accident, so ive been hobbling around for the last week with an ankle the size of a baseball. so. couldnt ride for a few days and instead spent them checking out coral reefs and cool fish.
when the swelling went down a little and it was time to hit the road lissa caught a bug in her nose which moved into her sinuses so that put off still further the 130 km of impending hillclimbs and descents to sea level. ok, catch a bus. we booked passage on an open tour bus to hoi an and checked out of our very cool guesthouse. bummed around all day drinking coffee and playing pool till 7pm when the bus was supposed to leave. waited half an hour cause it was late. it finally arrived and the guy who stands in the door to slow down traffic while the bus pulls over (he was actually the manager of the tour agancy, but we didnt know that at the time) had a row with the girls in the tour place cause he didnt want to take our bikes. it didnt look like we were going to get on. he yelled something at us in vietnamese and the bus started moving. pissed off at this point, lissa hammered on the side of the bus. he came out steaming and she said something like "where the fuck are you going?" he only understood fuck i think, and thought she was insulting him. "fuck you" he says, to which she replies "no, fuck YOU." he must have lost face because he took a swing at her. she punched him a few times, i got in the way and he attacked me, so i hit him as well. and it must have looked like he was losing the battle because the driver and some other guy piled out and a big fight started on the foothpath in front of a bus full of foreigners who all piled to the windows to see what was happening. anyway, we were unhurt but the fuckers ripped my favourite pants. we went back to our guesthouse in a rage, furious at all vietnamese men, and the guy who owns the guesthouse (one of the nicest vietnamese men ive met) put us up in his room cause all the others were full. we vowed not to catch another bus because most of the bus drivers are arseholes, and we are now semi deaf in the left ear from their unnecessary blasting of the horns as they pass us on the road. i dont know what is psychologically wrong with 40% of all vietnamese men (a revised estimate. we have met a few more nice ones lately), but they have no manners or subtelty and the social grace of an alsatian that has had its head swapped with that of an elderly male yak. they will stare blatently at the western women when on a beach and will often by hoiking and spitting up flem while doing this. i got one guys eye after an extended beachside hoiking session, and made vomiting motions on the sand. blank looks. he had no idea what i ment. from what ive heard indian beaches are worse, but these guys shit me up the fuckin wall.
we got up at dawn and went to the train station, but the next train departed at 11.45 that night and we would have to stay in nha trang (which by now was really irritating) for another 16 hours. we got on our bikes and cycled to doc let beach, 50 km out of town on the road north. that was an awesome catharsis. i listened to 3 tool albums and let the blood out. lazed on a much better beach than nha trangs for the afternoon, got up early and cycled north for 2 more days. some of the most beautiful country so far, well out of the gravitational pull of saigon, and much more scenic than the delta. the dreaded highway 1 really isnt living up to its name, another example of why cyclists should ignore the advice of motorists. i had mentally prepared myself to do battle with busses trucks and motorbikes every inch of the way, but this is not so. it looks hectic when youre sitting at the front of a bus, but a lot of the time they are traveling at the same speed as us because of the hills, which i am really starting to enjoy. this road winds its way the coast, rising to 200m then dropping back down to sea level. its beautiful to ride as its quite possible to grab onto passing trucks to scab a lift to the top of the hill, then pass them on the way down. technically its cheating (or so lissa will tell you) but why not make the most of an ephemeral source of free uphill mileage...
we caught a share taxi from qui nhon and arrived in hoi an that afternoon. this is the most beautiful town ive ever seen. it was the largest sea port in vietnam from about the 11th till 17th century i think (im prolly wrong, but it was for a long time) and was home to some wealthy chinese japanese and european merchents. the streets are really old, narrow and french, and there is a car ban in the inner city. yes. something that is needed in all cities i think. it escaped bombing during the war so is in original condition and not a shitty postwar communist reconstruction, and was granted world heritage status in 1999. there is a proliferation of good cafes and bars, and it specialises in tailors who promise "copies 100% original". sounds like same same but different, but we got a few things made. i dont think anyone passes through here without getting a suit made. im beyond that, but i got them to make me a cool vampire jacket and a whole bunch of other stuff. we just posted a whole heap of tailormade clothes to australia, and i think the postage cost almost as much as the stuff in the first place. pretty fuckin cheap.
we hired a motorbike today and rode 40 km out of town to My Son (80 km is just a bit too far to comfortably cycle on one of our many lazy days off). this is the site of some old champa ruins that would have been a hell of a lot less ruined before 1969. apparently the VC had a base near here, so the area was carpet bombed by everyones favourite country. silly communists, should have had more respect for the hard work of their ancestors, and built their base in an open field somewhere so the americans werent forced to destroy structures that had been standing 400 years before ankor wat was concieved. an interesting addition to a part of the temple complex that still had a roof was a couple of unexploded 500lb bombs, so there can be a marvel of the ancient worldside by side with a marvel of the modern world. cool.
aux.
