Vietnam

The Highlands on Two Wheels

Excerpts from my Little Blue Book

Lee and I headed out of Dalat at eight in the morning. The weather was great, cool and dry. The sun was hiding behind the clouds which was great for avoiding sunburn. We didn't travel far before our first stop, a waterfall. While nice, it was just a waterfall and not particularly interesting or cultural. I was still feeling weak, so told Lee that I didn't really want to stop too often, so to only stop for the really cool cultural stuff. I had planned for three days of touring, and didn't want to exhaust myself on the first day.

Lee, my driver, in the foothills of the mountains of the highlands of Vietnam.

Consequently, our next stop was chicken village. By then the sun had come out and the weather was warming up. Chicken village is home to a minority hill-tribe who wanted to return to a slash-and-burn existence in the mountains. The Vietnamese government, anxious to avoid the environmental ramifications of this, built a statue as a focal point for a village. When asked what kind of inspiring statue they wanted, they asked for a giant chicken.

Hand-made silk scarves for sale to tourists in Chicken Village, so named for the giant concrete chicken in the centre.

The huts around the chicken were full of silk scarves, blankets and tablecloths, exactly the same as I had seen on the banks of paradise lake in Dalat. Lee told me that the society was matriarchal, and a dowry had to be given to the prospective husband's parents. I talked with some of the women who even spoke a little Korean to me.

The coffee and rice harvest is laid out to dry.

Leaving chicken village, we headed further up into the mountains, stopping occasionally for photos. The countryside was fascinating with groups of houses scattered along the road. Many of the houses had crops spread out on sheets drying in the sun.

A group of kids play with a tarpaulin outside their school in a small mountain village.

We stopped for lunch in a village and Lee was shocked when I ordered just plain rice. My stomach wasn't ready for anything flavourous yet, but he persuaded me to order some soup as well. It wasn't bad. We moved on, and over the mountains, which were extremely beautiful. The road wound up along steep cliffs of tropical vegetation. Everywhere was green and lush. I couldn't help but think of all the war movies I'd seen, and I hoped there weren't scores of jungle guerrillas waiting in ambush around the next bend in the road. Because of the sickness, I was only just beginning to get a feel for the country, which until now I only knew about from war movies. For me it was more of a country named after a war, and riding through jungle covered mountains wasn't helping with the shameful, yet typically Western image.

Trees go down and pylons go up as new electricity lines are installed over the mountains.

Down the other side of the mountain and the weather looked a lot worse. I had told Lee that I couldn't afford to get soaked and cold on the motorcycle, so when he spotted a rainstorm up ahead we stopped in a little roadside gas station/store/pub. The family there was very friendly and curious, and it was one of the highlights of the trip to sit and chat with them. The family was dual-income, with the mother owning the gas station and the father being a "forest guard". Lee kept popping out to the road to check on the status of the storm, and after about an hour or so he declared that it was no longer raining up ahead. I had never even seen that it was raining, but all doubt was washed from my mind when ten minutes later we were driving along still-wet roads.

The shores of Lac Lake where the narrowboats are parked.

We finally arrived at the hill-tribe village where we were to stay the night, but they were full. Instead we headed around the lake and stopped at what I would guess to be 'overflow' lodgings. Two large stilted long-houses, a gift-shop and a floating restaurant graced the banks of Lak Lake. We stowed our stuff in the long-house, which we had to ourselves, and then I headed to the restaurant to relax. I didn't want to do anything strenuous. I noticed that there were some fishing rods, and I asked if I could fish. Lee and I spent a couple of hours fishing and caught nothing, but one unattended fishing rod caught a fish. Later, when we ate, we were presented with the fish, fried, free of charge. It was delicious, and the first proper meal I had had since falling ill.

A long house beside Lak Lake, traditional lodgings for the tourists who pass through the area.

The night I spent in the long house was wonderful. I was serenaded to sleep by the insects, and I heard no traffic all night. By this time in the trip, with so many early mornings, it was impossible not to be up before seven o'clock. At nine we headed up to the royal hunting lodge of the last king of Vietnam. It was a sorry site, a skeleton of a building on top of a small hill commanding a great view of the lake. It was hard to imagine it being full of grandeur, it was certainly anticlimactic having been billed as a palace. It was currently undergoing much-needed restoration, and work was in evidence, though results didn't seem to be.

Bao Dai Palace, hunting lodge of the last king of Vietnam, is currently being restored to its former glory.

From there we headed to the minority hill-tribe village, a collection of huts and souvenir stalls. I bought gifts for my students and also two more silk blankets because they were less than half the price I had paid in Dalat. I was nearing the end of my trip and had space in my bag. I ate a lunch of cheap noodles, took some photos, but wasn't in the mood for the quasi-tourist trap in which these people lived. We headed for Buon Mat Thuot, where I would take an airplane back to Saigon.

Typical transport in rural Vietnam, the ubiquitous mini-tractor and trailer combination.

It took about four hours to get there, and I was getting pretty sick of sitting on a motorcycle. We sheltered from showers a couple of times. Lee, I am sure, would have continued regardless, but I was still fragile and didn't want to risk catching an exposure related disease. Lee dropped me at a youth hostel, at which point I bid him farewell. A walk about town a browse through my guidebook revealed that this city was the site of the first big Victory for the North in the Vietnam war. It led to the complete collapse of the Capitalists in the South. I visited the victory monument, but was far more interested in the traffic going around it than in the monument itself which was a life-sized replica of a tank.

Traditional uniformed schoolgirls of Buon Ma Thuot cycle around Victory Monument.

I got a good night sleep, but was so exhausted the next day that after I flew into Saigon I switched my ticket and flew home a day early. I longed for my own bed. It was a shame because the little that I did see of Vietnam convinced me that I would have enjoyed it more than Cambodia if I hadn't have been sick. I love to travel, but there's also something special about coming home.

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