Crossroads Vietnam

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
South Vietnam
Da Nang
North Vietnam
Hanoi
July 28-August 17, 2015
August 18-27
August 28-30
August 31-September 8
September 9

Arrival

"Just one life."

Words that a Cambodian friend had said to me. Words that reverberated in my mind during the short flight to Vietnam. Just one life, and a lot of goals. Some goals eventuate, some don't. It's probably best that way - if you accomplish all of your goals in life, you're probably aiming too low; if you accomplish none of them, you're aiming too high. Throughout the previous months, I'd been guided by a subconscious inner voice, a secret dictate. Like a beacon, it continued to guide me. A few more crossroads remained, but I was going to stay the course.

Ho Chi Minh City

I left the airport amidst the pouring rain of Ho Chi MInh City. Caught a cab to my hostel, wherever that was. Though the cab driver spoke only rudimentary English, he periodically turned to me and threw his hands up, lamenting "Traffic, traffic." He had a point; the traffic was terrible. Hordes of motorbikes everywhere. He seemed pretty heartbroken by it, so much so that even after I paid the fare with my usual 10% tip, he had the gall to ask for more. Gave him five thousand Vietnamese Dong (a few US cents). I checked into yet another hostel, the Galaxy Hostel. Had all of the usual basics, nothing too remarkable. The hostel scene was getting overly familiar. It didn't matter; I hardly spent any time there as I explored Vietnam's largest city over the following days.

Ho Chi Minh City is a sprawling city of eight million people. The Khmers ruled the land on which it sits for centuries, but during the 17th century they gradually lost control to increasing waves of Vietnamese settlers. France ruled from 1869 to 1955, resulting in the construction of many colonial buildings that survive to this day. In 1955, following the French occupation, the city was named Saigon, and in 1975, at the conclusion of the Vietnam War, it was renamed Ho Chi Minh City, in honour of the leader of the victorious North Vietnamese forces.

There's a surplus of good coffee in Ho Chi Minh City, which should come as no surprise since Vietnam is the second largest coffee producing nation in the world. One signature drink is coffee mixed with sweetened condensed milk with or without ice. Tastes delicious. I frequented as many cafes as I could. They're major social venues really. People wanting to take photos with you, or take secret photos of you as you drink your coffee, then coming up to show you the photos later, things like that.

I generally avoid museums, but there was one I wanted to see called the War Remnants Museum. When I arrived, the bored middle-aged lady at the gate muttered "Closed" and turned around to keep talking to the person beside her. I looked at my watch, still had 30 minutes to spare. I didn't need long, so I walked through. She didn't notice. The museum was small but its core message revealing - in the Vietnam War, the US was clearly painted as an aggressive invader of the Vietnamese homeland, repulsed by the noble actions of Ho Chi Minh and his soldiers. It was a perspective that just wouldn't be possible to see in the west. Good to see the other side. Exiting the museum, I recalled that I had neglected to pay the entrance fee of 20,000 Vietnamese Dong (about one US dollar). I gave the gatekeeper lady the money on the way out. She still said "Closed." Clearly not enthused by the job. I placed the money on the counter anyhow and departed.

Several days into Ho Chi Minh City I had the good fortune to meet up with an old high school friend, Bao from Canada. Bao visits Vietnam often, and he just happened to be around. He was cool as ice as usual. Different take on life to most people. The guy just knows how to enjoy himself. We had a good evening reminiscing in the OMG! Rooftop Bar. I had been planning to leave the city the next day, but after seeing Bao I decided to stay a few more days to hang out with him and partake in some leisure time. See the other side. Perhaps I was feeling a bit on edge, I don't know.

First thing I did was move into Bao's hotel from the hostel. I'd had enough of hostels by this point really. Bao had a few other friends there too, providing extra company. The next week was fun in a hedonistic kind of way. The formula was simple - wake up, massage, eat, sleep, eat again, clubbing at night. Repeat the following day. The clubs were cool and full of Vietnamese people, no foreigners. Except for me of course. Unique experience.

It was good to see Bao, although after he and the others left for Canada I embarked on a water and tea fast for one week in an attempt to rebalance my health. I think it went well. Feeling vigorous again, it was time to do what I had come to Vietnam to do, which was to buy a motorbike and ride it from the southern metropolis of Ho Chi Minh City up to the northern capital of Hanoi. I had to stay the course. Time to ride.
Ho Chi Minh City at night.
The motorbike reigns in Vietnam.
Preparing food in the night market.
There are many pictures and statues of Ho Chi Minh.
Catching up with an old friend, Bao from Canada.
The club scene in Ho Chi Minh City.
Dinner with Rose and Pacific from Vietnam as well as Bao, Kevin, Chris, and Ben from Canada.

South Vietnam

My South Vietnam tour swept back and forth between the coast and the inner highlands. So, heavy on the beaches and mountains. Not the worst combination. Covered 1,450 kilometers over ten days.

For a city full of motorbikes, it was surprisingly difficult to find a decent one for a sensible price in Ho Chi Minh City. My main criterion was reliability; I wanted a motorbike that wouldn't break down on me. Had to look in a lot of places, but eventually I stumbled across a shop called Tigit Motorbikes, owned and operated by Jon from the UK and Tuyen from Vietnam. Jon and Tuyen were exceedingly helpful and sold me a brand new semi automatic Honda Blade 110 cc, which hence forth I shall refer to as Blade. I paid 22,000,000 Vietnamese Dong (about 1000 US dollars). Groovy.

My first day of riding was the worst one of the entire trip. The escape from Ho Chi Minh City was an event in itself as I dodged the bustling traffic and tried to get used to Blade. One hour out of the city, I passed by half a dozen police officers stopping people on the side of the road. They didn't even glance at me, so I rode on. Thirty seconds later, one of them roared past me and stopped in front of Blade, forcing me to brake hard, and motioned for me to follow him back. He stated that I had been speeding, had not indicated as I turned on to the highway, and had ignored him when he flagged me down. Bogus charges. I had been following everyone else, none of whom had been speeding or had used their indicators since it was a merging lane, and there's no way that he flagged me down. He demanded to see my Vietnamese license, and since it's not necessary for any foreigner to carry one, I had nothing to show him. Authoritatively raising his voice, the officer said that he was going to keep my motorbike for driving without a license, and demanded that I give him the key to Blade. I flatly refused. He didn't like that a whole lot. Backed up a step, put his hand to his waist like he was going to draw his gun, and started screaming at me that if I did not give him the key, he was going to take my motorbike and arrest me. No sense of professionalism; this guy was acting crazy. He had me on the defensive, so I borrowed a phone from one of the other people being stopped and called Tuyen for advice. She recommended a small bribe, perhaps 200,000 Vietnamese Dong (ten US dollars). As I offered the bribe, I noticed that all of the other police officers were taking bribes from the people they had stopped. Unfortunately, my officer refused to accept anything less than 8,000,000 Vietnamese Dong (400 US dollars). I guess he was playing hardball with the foreigner. Tiring of the impasse after an hour or so, I said that I didn't have that much on me, but if I could get to an ATM, I could dig it up. Within one minute of me saying this, the officer had a guy with a motorbike on the spot, ready to take me to a nearby ATM. How convenient. I retrieved the money, paid the fine, and rode on. Not a great start to the trip. When I discussed the scam with Jon two days later, he mentioned that he'd heard of similar scams involving groups of fake police officers. Guess it's possible. Guess I'll never know.

The first day could only get better after that, although I did get lost for a couple of hours. Since I carry no phone and hence have no ability to look up online maps, I rely on normal maps, and I was finding out that the one I possessed lacked critical details. Such as roads. So I lost my way. Ended up in a town called Bien Hoa. Went to a cafe and asked a couple of guys sitting across from me for directions. Nice guys. They helped me out. One of them even recorded a video of the entire conversation, so it must have been exciting on some level. Maybe it's on facebook or youtube now. Finally, at the end of day one, I made it to Vung Tau, a seaside city with a nice beach. Found a good hotel and crashed - me, not Blade.

I spent the next morning on the beach, priming myself for the long ride ahead. Day two went by in a coastal blur as I rode north to Phan Tiet, a city built on the fish industry. Stopped for coffee on the way. Some guy walking by the cafe started talking to me from the street in Vietnamese, and when I waved and shrugged my shoulders, he must have taken it as a sign to come in and sit down beside me. For that is what he did. Chattered away to me in Vietnamese for the next ten minutes. I just sipped my coffee. Had no idea what he was saying, but he didn't seem to know it. Eventually, he got up and left. Wish I knew what we'd talked about.

I decided to head inland on day three. Rode through countless ascending switchbacks reminiscent of my ride in Thailand a few months back. Stayed the night in the city of Da Lat, well known for its cool climate, many pine trees, and year-round mist-covered valleys. That was a good day.

I rode east, back to the coast, on the fourth day. Enchanting countryside, and the weather was gorgeous. I made it to Nha Trang, a city famous all over Asia for its beaches and beautiful bay. From what I saw, a reputation well deserved. Great place. There were Russian tourists everywhere; they must particularly love it. I even had a chance to practice some of my old Russian language skills. Spent two days in Nha Trang, and dedicated half of one of them to a breathtaking ride along the coastline accompanied by a panorama of clouds and sea.
 
By this point, I was getting used to riding a motorbike in South Vietnam. It was no longer as stressful as it had been when I began the trip. The key was a change in mindset. Things that might be considered strange or reckless in the west were the norm here. People on bicycles pulling out right in front of me without looking, that was normal. People on motorbikes turning left or right without doing a head check or signalling, that was normal too. Coming around a blind corner to see a car or truck passing another car or truck at high speed forcing me to pull Blade onto the dirt shoulder of the highway, you guessed it, normal. Harrowing at times, though I'm not trying to make it sound bad. It wasn't. Just a different mindset. As long as I paid constant attention to the now, drove slowly, and beeped the horn religiously, it worked fine. Quite invigorating really. Plus no road-rage.

On the sixth day I veered inland again. Passed by many green valleys and lush fields. Unfortunately, the weather deteriorated into a steady drizzle punctuated by periods of heavy rainfall. I completed a rather bland day of riding and recuperated for two days in Buon Ma Thuot, a city renowned as the capital of South Vietnam's coffee region. Nice hotel too.

The weather may have been capricious, but Blade was reliable. Gave me no trouble at all. There was no shortage of climbing power or speed, although it must be said that I rarely exceeded 70 kilometers per hour. Mileage was Blade's only soft spot, ranging from 140 to 180 kilometers per tank. To compensate, I ensured that I carried three liters of extra fuel with me at all times. If some mechanical issue were to hit me out of the blue, that might be fate, but running out of fuel, that would be poor planning. I wasn't going to tolerate that.

I bore north on days eight to ten, staying one night in Pleiku and one night in Kon Tum, ordinary inland cities chaperoned by mediocre inland weather. The weather got worse with each passing day. Storms and.cold winds assailed me on the final day. Had to wait out some of the heavier tempests in the occasional roadside cafe. Watching the rain while sipping on iced coffee is fun. Sort of. It can't rain all the time though, and eventually I emerged from the clouds and mountains to return to the coastal city of Da Nang. Time to rest.
Seaside retreat in Vung Tau (day one).
Blade with most of my worldly possessions (day two).
Fishermen making ropes on the side of the road (day two).
Colourful boats in Phan Tiet (day two).
Herding goats and motorbikes (day three).
Valley vista from a tiny tower (day four).
Highs views of Nha Trang (day five).
Clouds over the sea (day five).
Greener pastures (day six).
Departing Pleiku in the drizzle (day nine).
Storm ahead (day ten).
Seeking iced coffee, tea, and refuge from the rain (day ten).
Farewell to clouds and mountains (day ten).

Da Nang

I rode into Da Nang on a wet afternoon, but the sun showed up the rest of the four days that I was there. Good place to unwind. 

Da Nang is the third largest city in Vietnam with a greater population of about one million people. It's ringed by mountains on one side and the South China Sea on the other. Da Nang's economy is diverse and includes fishing, agriculture, forestry, and various industries. Tourism is said to be important, but I only saw a handful of obvious foreigners while I was there.

I enjoyed a superb day of riding in Da Nang. It's the perfect city for doing so, with a crescent coastline hugging it from below and rugged mountains cradling it from above. I zipped along the coast in the morning, making my way to the Son Tra peninsula which lies north of the city. It was a bright day, and the sky had its hands full as it endeavoured to match the blueness of the sea. The road eventually narrowed to a couple of meters in width and I arrived at a crossroads. Left or right? I mused consciously, but the decision had already been made subcortically - the secret dictate urged me to go right, so right it was. The next two hours found me riding around the back of Son Tra peninsula. It was isolated and peaceful. Passed by only a single pair of riders going the opposite way. I beheld the magnificence of the sea and peered over and beyond it, to hopes unknown.

The road ultimately terminated at a dirt trail and so I reversed direction, rode back, and turned left this time, a turn that took me to the summit of Nui Son Tra, the mountain that crowns the Son Tra peninsula. The mountain's pinnacle provided favourable views of Da Nang. Despite the vista, there were a whole lot of tourists there taking shots of themselves with their selfie sticks. Hence the summit was not nearly as placid as my ride around the back of the peninsula. Hence my leaving after only five minutes.

I could talk about the food, the beaches, the people that I met...but what I really remember about Da Nang - what I'll always remember - was that I went right instead of left, and peered beyond the sea to hopes unknown.
Cruising the coast of Da Nang.
Peering beyond the sea.
View of Da Nang from the top of San Tra Mountain.
Post-ride fried spinach with garlic, with bok choy and carrots underneath.

North Vietnam

My North Vietnam tour was mainly comprised of desolate mountain roads interrupted by bouts of rolling hills and copacetic farmland. The mountain riding made this ride more challenging than the South Vietnam tour. Covered 1,350 kilometers over nine days.

The first day involved a mystical ascent over the Hai Van Pass, which in Vietnamese translates to the "Ocean Cloud Pass." The pass marks the terminus of the Annamite Range. Tremendous views of the South China Sea on the way up. I made it to the top without incident, and looked ahead into foreboding clouds. Reckoned it was going to get wet again. During the descent, the guy in front took a corner too fast and both he and the girl on the motorbike with him fell into a ditch. I stopped to see if they were hurt. No problems. Bruised ego maybe. I rode on.

The threat of rain lingered the rest of the day, but linger is all it did, and I arrived in the city of Hue where I stayed the night. From 1802 to 1945, Hue was the imperial capital of the Nguyen lords, a feudal dynasty and the last ruling family of Vietnam. It lost its status as capital city of the country when the communist government established itself in the north. Having time to spare I checked out the city. Walked by a walled area in the center of Hue called the Imperial City, which itself used to contain a "Forbidden City" where only emperors, concubines, and close family and friends were granted access on pain of death. Not a pleasant thought.

The weather made its assault over the next two days as I punched over to the inland mountains once again. Rained a heck of a lot. I halted overnight in the town of Khe San before making a long and arduous push north through desolate country. The road was practically devoid of any other vehicles, but with the slippery surface I remained vigilant, taking it slow and beeping the horn prodigiously before entering any blind corner. Good thing too. Nearly got taken out on one of them when I came upon a car passing a truck at high speed; there was no time to do anything but veer onto the gravel shoulder as fast as possible. Shook my head and sighed. Thought of some good expletives to describe the driver of the passing car. Carried on.

The thing about roads is that you don't always know where they are going, but you know they are going somewhere. Stands to reason. I knew this road north was taking me to a place called Phong Nha in the end, but everything in between was an unknown. Like fuel stations. There weren't any. Not one. Luckily I had brought the spare fuel. Ended up using all three liters of it, and even then I finally puttered into the town of Phong Nha with a nearly empty tank.

I spent two days in Phong Nha, but I would have spent two weeks there had time permitted. It was an unanticipated gem. The town was small but had a few outstanding restaurants and cafes. Easy to see Phong Nha was in the midst of a rapid growth period; the pioneering stages of tourism. It will likely be full of tourists in ten years. I'd put money on it. Moreover, the town is but a small part of Phong Mha National Park, an enormous limestone zone that protects one of the world's two largest karst regions, areas formed from the dissolution of soluble rocks resulting in the creation of complex underground drainage systems such as caves, which are the main attractions spurring Phong Nha's rapid growth. They're cool.

The thing about caves is you don't always know where they are going, yet you hope they are going somewhere. It's not so much about reason; you just trust your secret dictate and make the best decisions you can. That obviously assumes there are no lights or guide to show you the way. I could only spare the time to see Paradise Cave. This cave was only recently discovered by a local man in 2005; its full 31 kilometer length was mapped out shortly after. Longest cave in the park. Massive chambers too, up to 100 meters high and 150 meters wide. Although visitors were only permitted to see the first kilometer without a guide, it was still worth the day trip. Paradise Cave was much more impressive in its beauty and magnitude than any other cave that I have experienced. Extraordinary place.

Savouring my coffee the next morning, I asked the girl running the cafe if she recommended any good places to see further north. She had a few suggestions, one of which was a town in a rural district called Mai Chau. It sounded good to me. It was three days away though.

I exited Phong Nha National Park on the fifth day. There were still lots of mountains in sight, but the road flattened out and the immediate scenery was dominated by farmland. It was here that North Vietnam began to feel different from South Vietnam. There was a marked emphasis on agriculture, but more than that, I think it was the people. They seemed more interested in foreigners in a reserved kind of way, and they seemed to carry a greater sense of nationalistic pride. 

In the little town of Huong Khe, I stopped for coffee. There were four young guys in there playing cards. When my coffee came to me, two of them came over, said hello, and then sat down. They said nothing as they knew no English, nor I any Vietnamese. So I drank my coffee, and they politely sat at my table and stared at me for ten minutes. Bit strange, but not in a bad way. Shook hands with them and left. They were clearly interested in talking to me, but I guess the only way they could communicate was to sit down and hang out.

Later that same day I ripped through several more towns. The homes of all of these towns were draped with Vietnamese flags. Hadn't seen nationalism taken to that level in the south. I rested up in the town of Huong Son for the night. Had a hard time finding somewhere to eat. Finally saw an old man sweeping in front of what looked like a home more than a restaurant. I stopped; he invited me in. His sole customer. He had no menu, just motioned that he would bring me something to eat. Sounded good to me. He served me some tasty pho, a Vietnamese noodle soup made up of broth, rice noodles, herbs, and meat. I was eating when a middle-aged lady rocked up on her scooter and sat down beside me. She couldn't speak English either, but she did have a translating app on her phone. We "spoke" for an hour or so via her phone. After asking where I was from and the other usual introductory questions, she wanted to ensure that I was educated about Ho Chi Minh. I assured her that I had read quite a bit about him. She was clearly a fan. At the end of the conversation, she disappeared on her scooter for five minutes and returned with an entire box of Choco Pies, desserts similar to Wagon Wheels. I thanked her and told her that I might eat them later. Must confess that I didn't. 

Day six was uneventful. I drifted velociously for hours over rolling hills set within moving frames of picturesque farming country. The weather was truly brilliant. Not for the first time, I noted how vividly the clouds appear to sit in the sky from the seat of a motorbike compared to the interior of a car. Checked into a lonely hotel that vaguely reminded me of the setting from the book And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. Monolithic, empty, no electricity, that kind of thing.

Day seven arrived; had I known how strenuous it would be, I might have taken the day off. But there's no fun in that. It was supposed to be an easy 150 kilometers of riding. However, since the hotel had lacked electricity, I had been unable to perform my morning ritual of looking up the online map of my route, a ritual I had been performing ever since I got lost on the first day of the South Vietnam tour. Since I only had a couple of days of riding left and it was only 150 kilometers to Mai Chau, I figured that I'd be fine without checking just this once. First mistake.

The first 50 kilometers was a straightforward run through farming country and it ended at a V-shaped fork in the road. The fork wasn't on my paper maps. I called upon the secret dictate; couldn't help me here. Had to go with reason, the next best thing. Reason said to go left, so left it was. Second mistake.

I passed right through a town called Lang Chanh and kept going. The road narrowed to two meters in width. The terrain became mountainous. There were no signs, just a few houses on the side of the road, but they too abandoned me after a while. I had travelled 50 kilometers past the V-shaped fork when my subconscious inner voice warned me that something was wrong. I stopped. Almost out of fuel. Filled up the tank with the spare fuel. Considered the situation. Carry on, or go back? I didn't want to end it here. Hated the thought of turning back, of retracing a path already trodden. I was also annoyed at myself for getting into this position. Yet in the end I submitted my ego and returned from whence I came. Stopped to ask a few people for directions along the way, but we couldn't communicate, and even when I mentioned the names of the towns that I wanted to go to, I received different answers. Finallly, after 60 kilometers of back-tracking I came across a small internet cafe. Found my bearings. It turned out that the decision to go back had been a monumentally good one. I had been riding down a lonely road going west, towards Laos. Would have been another 85 kilometers until I came to the border. No major towns along the road, so there may not have been any fuel stations. Good chance I would have been stranded in no-man's land. Good chance my motorbike trip would have turned into a trek. Laughing, I traced out the correct route and set out once again, determined to make things right.

I arrived at the V-shaped fork again, and went right this time. It felt good to know where I was going. Gentle riding for the first 50 kilometers. Off-roading for the last 50 kilometers. Massive construction zone. No real road to speak of, just mud and dirt and a rocky trail. Longest 50 kilometers of the entire motorbike trip. I made it to Mai Chau an hour before sunset, rather tired and ready for a day of rest.

Mai Chau is a small town located in a mountainous rural region of North Vietnam. Nothing adventurous about what I did there. Slept and ate a lot, and wrote most of what you are reading right now while periodically averting my gaze to the misty mountains outside of my window.

My last day, the ninth day, was a drizzly ride to Hanoi. Found a hotel amidst the chaos of bicycles, motorbikes, and cars. Parked Blade. Turned off the ignition. Exhaled. My motorbike trip had come to a close.
Climbing the Hai Van Pass to vistas of the South China Sea (day one).
Foreboding clouds from the top of Hai Van Pass (day one).
Like everywhere else in Vietnam, motorbikes densely populate the streets of Hue (day one).
A wet and desolate road (day two).
Onwards and upwards (day three).
Roadside snapshot (day three).
Phong Nha National Park protects a huge karst region (day three).
The first chamber of Paradise Cave (day four).
Towering columns (day four).
Subterranean ingenuity (day four).
Leaving Phon Nha National Park (day five).
Homemade pho (day five).
Looking past the horizon (day six).
Brilliant weather (day six).
Blade and sky (day six).
Tending crops (day seven).
The "road" to Mai Chau (day seven).
Leaving Mai Chau on a misty morning (day nine).

Hanoi

With a greater population of seven million people, Hanoi is Vietnam's second largest city. It has other names - due to its many lakes, it is known as the "City of Lakes," and due to its trees, boulevards, and colonial-style buildings, it is known as the "Paris of Asia." After the French were ousted in 1954, Hanoi became the capital city of North Vietnam, and following the end of the Vietnam War in 1975, it became the capital city of a unified Vietnam.

I only had one full day in Vietnam's capital city. So I didn't have the time to do it justice. It was a full day though.

In the morning, I rode Blade to an associate of Jon and Tuyen's where I sold it back to them for 18,000,000 Vietnamese Dong (800 USD). Despite the generous resale price, I was a bit sorry to hand over the keys. My main criterion had been reliability and from start to finish, that little motorbike had delivered. I threw in the helmet too. Wouldn't need it any more. As I walked away, it started to rain - yet again. I sought refuge in Thong Nhat Park. Had a nice view over Bay Mau Lake while the thunder and lightning revelled in their usual song and dance over the water.

Later in the afternoon, I took a lackadaisical stroll down to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. The embalmed body of Ho Chi Minh himself lies preserved within the central hall of the building where it is protected by a military honour guard. Sentinels everywhere. Not my thing. Didn't stay long.

I found myself walking alongside Hoan Kiem Lake in the evening. Had a nice dinner. Took some photos of Turtle Tower in its lonely position at the center of Hoan Kiel Lake, itself the historical center of Hanoi. The utter heart of Vietnam. While I was snapping photos, a Vietnamese girl came up to me and asked me a question.

"What do you feel when you look at it?"

I made a fist. Placed it over my heart.

"I feel it here."
Streets of Hanoi.
The morning rains of Bay Mau Lake in Thong Nhat Park.
The afternoon clouds over the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.
The evening lights of Turtle Tower in the middle of Hoan Kiem Lake.

Departure

Vietnam is a diverse country and riding a motorbike is an awesome way to see it. Like any primary goal, getting from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi required the completion of many secondary goals. Lots of crossroads along the way, lots of chances to deviate from the ultimate destination. By listening to the secret dictate, I'd stayed the course. Time to listen to it again. Time to venture beyond the sea.