After two bowls of pho for breakfast, I start to load up my bike. A couple of early customers of the restaurant come up to me and start talking. I smile at them. They proceed to check out my set-up: the tires, the panniers, the cycling computer, the lock, the gear shifters, my thighs - that last one's a bit weird. They give me a thumbs up as I get on my bike.
I want to get off the main highway for at least part of today. So after a couple of kilometers, I veer down a smaller road to go through a few villages and small towns.The easy thing about staying on the main highway is that I wouldn't need to worry about where to turn: it's the biggest road around, all I have to do is stay on it. On small country roads, though, getting lost is almost a guarantee. And, sure enough, I get turned around in the first village. Stopping to ask for directions, the group of villagers try to get me back on the main highway. It takes a lot of gesturing for me to convince them that I want to stay on the country roads and go to the next village. I finally figure out the road to the next village and get back on the saddle.
The roads are narrower and bumpier, but I have no big trucks or busses to contend with. 
After going slowly through a few villages and a couple of small towns, I stop at a fruit stand for a break. I buy a bunch of bananas and sit down to eat them. It must have been the scent of a foreigner, or it might just be my sweat, but in no time, a group of villagers has gathered in front of me. One girl is a college student and knows some English. Through her, the villagers ask me the standard questions: Where are you from? How old are you? Where are you going? Are you married? Why aren't you married? etc. A couple of the kids fiddle with my bike. After a bit of chatting, I take out my camera. Everyone giggles and think it is great fun to have their pictures taken.
After going slowly through a few villages and a couple of small towns, I stop at a fruit stand for a break. I buy a bunch of bananas and sit down to eat them. It must have been the scent of a foreigner, or it might just be my sweat, but in no time, a group of villagers has gathered in front of me. One girl is a college student and knows some English. Through her, the villagers ask me the standard questions: Where are you from? How old are you? Where are you going? Are you married? Why aren't you married? etc. A couple of the kids fiddle with my bike. After a bit of chatting, I take out my camera. Everyone giggles and think it is great fun to have their pictures taken.
Pressing on, I come to a couple of river crossings. The first one is by ferry. The ferry is ingeniously built by tying the bow of a boat to the midpoint of an engineless barge. The boat pivots against the barge and pushes it to either shore of the river. The second one is over a bridge built with planks tied over a row of boats floating across the river so the bridge rises and falls with the water level.
At around eleven o'clock, the country road spits me back out onto the main highway. I look at the cycling computer: 35 km. Almost 100 more to go. After a morning of piddle-paddling, it's time to get down to business if I want to arrive in Ninh Binh at a reasonable hour. I start riding at between 25 km/h to 30 km/h, and stopping only for lunch. By nightfall, I am only ten kilometers from Ninh Binh. I put on the visibility light in the back and ride by the light of passing cars.
I roll into town, check into one of the hotels recommended by Lonely Planet, and take a much-needed hot shower. The next two days will be much easier with only short trips around Ninh Binh.
Stats:
Distance: 131.2 km
Odometer: 347.5 km
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