Epic Vietnam Journey (Day 2-Saigon to Da Lat)

So, the day did not start off well.  I somehow lost my hotel key the day prior (I really don’t know how, because it was attached to a key holder the size of a brick).  So, the hotel gave me their last key, and I manage to lock the key in the hotel room.  So, they had to call a lock smith to pick the lock and get my key.  It cost me about 10 bucks, which is actually a lot in Vietnam, but I certainly deserved to pay for doing such an idiotic thing.  While they were fixing the lock, I walked around to see if I could find some maps.  While I was walking, the straps on my knockoff Addidas sandals (which I had bought in Hanoi two weeks ago) broke almost simultaneously on both feet.  I go the market, and I buy some replacement knockoff Addidas sandals.  The sales lady assures me that these knockoff Addidas sandals are of much better quality than the previous ones.  We shall see.  I then try to find a used motorcycle to buy in the middle of the rain.  Some taxi guy takes me around town, and I eventually buy a bike for $250.  I didn’t know the make of the motorcycle (most everyone rides a Honda) and that made me a bit nervous, but it only had 2000km on it, so I thought what the hell.  What could go wrong?  Right?  I start noticing little things that you wouldn’t notice at first.  The bike rattled a bit.  The ignition didn’t work well (I had to push start a few times).  The key would not open the seat (under which the gas cap is) very easily.  More on that later.

I also bought a helmet, which provides absolutely no protection.  The helmets that people wear in Vietnam resemble a baseball souvenier helmet that you might purchase at a baseball game.  However, it is the law here to wear one.  The kicker is that children are not required to wear them apparently.  I see entire families on one motorcycle (yes, one motorcycle.  Father, pregnant mother, son, daughter, etc.).  I see the father and mother wearing a helmet, but the children do not.  This is very common.  Completely contrary to Western values.  I guess they have the attitude that if a child dies, they can just pop out another one.  I don’t know.  People have children here, so that they could take care of them in their old age.  They do not have social security, welfare, or pensions here. 

So, I eventually leave the city, and immediately got lost.  I probably asked 20 people for directions, which is about 20 more people that I have asked for directions in my life.  The thing about Vietnam is that the roads do not have route numbers (although the maps do) and the names of the roads change all the time, so even if you are good at navigating (which I am not), you will still get lost.  Turns out I was heading South when I should have been heading East.  Looks so damn easy on the map. I eventually found my way onto the correct road, and I was free sailing.  

Seems like as soon as I made it out of Saigon, it stopped raining. Awesome.  However, I started noticing a scraping noise coming from underneath my bike.  As I went on, it would stop and then come back again.  At this point, I’m pretty sure I would not make it all the way to Hanoi (1800 km from Saigon) on this bike, because I’m like 20km out of Saigon, and hearing these ominous noises.  I would feel lucky if I made it to Da Lat.  Well, nothing I can do now, right?

I keep going on my merry way, happily dodging all of the potholes (the roads are very rough here, so you pretty much average about 40km/hour, which is about 25mph).  I actually see many churches on the way.  I saw no churches in Hanoi (so another difference, people in Hanoi have no real religion, and in fact, seem to worship only Ho Chi Minh, since every house and classroom has a picture of Uncle Ho).

I actually come across two motorcycle accidents in about a 10km stretch.  The first one, this guy’s face was all bloodied and he was walking away from the accident all dazed.  The second one, this guy was holding his mangled hand as he was walking away from the accident.  I looked back at the accident scene, and there was blood all over the road.  It looks like he was carrying something glass with him and it just shattered when he hit the pavement.  These two accidents were totally motorcycle related, but I’m sure motorcyclists get hit by cars all the time.  The busses, trucks, and cars can care less about you.  They will pass slow moving vehicles, and if you are the oncoming traffic in your lane, you have to get the hell out of the way.  They really don’t care whether you are there or not.  I am very vigilant about that now, and make sure that I have a shoulder to veer off onto if I have to.  I’m not kidding you when I have been a foot from an oncoming bus.  Good thing I have good reactions and instincts.    

Da Lat is up in the mountains, so I notice that it is getting cooler.  Luckily, I took my rain jacket obviously for the rain, but it had the secondary effect of keeping me warm.  Never expected it to be that cold in the middle of summer in Vietnam.  A few hours go by and I eventually relent and stop to have dinner before it gets too dark (it starts getting dark at 6pm, and it is pitch black at 7pm here).  The only thing that I had to eat all day was a croissant in Saigon (which was mainly air), so I was starving.  However, when I am on a mission, eating becomes secondary, so it is easy for me to ignore the hunger.  I had a chicken leg, some soup, and rice for dinner.  Not much, but enough.  I am certain to lose weight on this trip.  I didn’t lose any weight in Hanoi due to the alcohol consumption and greasy food. I get on my way and attempt to find a hotel (still about 180 km from Da Lat) as I am a bit nervous about driving in the dark, since I can’t see the pot holes, and I fear the crazy-ass drivers.  

I have no idea what town or village I am in, but eventually I find a motel with a tiny little room.  It is only 5 bucks.  I go up to my room, flip on the television, and start working.  I marvel at the fact that I am in the middle of nowheres-ville in Vietnam, and I am doing work on my computer while watching HBO.

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