Cycling Trip Recap

I stepped out of the Brisbane airport two nights ago and expected to be hit by the wall of air thickened by heat and humidity that hangs around Brisbane all summer. But no, it was actually cooler than when I left in late November! Did Australia move south by a few degrees while I was gone? Not that I am complaining, but saying this is unseasonably cool is an understatement. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. I am sure it will heat back up pretty soon. Summer is only half over.

During my trip to Vietnam and Malaysia, I anal-retentively logged all of my expenses. It is a habit I picked when I was traveling through Australia and Asia a few years back. It gives me a way to gauge the cost of traveling through a particular area and helps me set a realistic budget for other trips. Today I tabulated the expenses for this trip.

In Vietnam, I averaged US$11 per day on food and accommodation. With everything else thrown in, the average came to US$20 per day - right on target. Despite staying at the cheapest places I could find and eating street food most of the time, I never felt like I was mistreating myself (except maybe one time at a hotel where I couldn't quite tell if the rooms weren't for rent by the hour).

I posted a picture early on that showed the setup on my bike: rear panniers with a clip-on front container for valuables. Riding in Vietnam makes it easy to pack light.

These are the things I took on my trip:

Clothes:
- a light fleece jacket that packs small
- 2 T-shirts
- 1 short-sleeve cycling shirt
- 1 long-sleeve cycling shirt
- 1 pair of fast-dry pants that zips off at the knees (doubles as shorts)
- 1 pair of light-weight normal khaki pants
- 3 pairs of underwear
- 3 pairs of socks
- 1 pair of shy shorts (cycling tights with a loose-fitting nylon shell)
- 1 pair of sneakers
- 1 pair of thongs (the kind that goes on your feet, not the kind that goes up your crack)

Toiletry kit:
- shampoo in a small bottle
- soap
- facewash (the one luxury item I brought)
- toothbrush and toothpaste
- floss
- contact lenses and contact solution
- cotton swabs
- chapstick
- nail clippers
- deodorant
- razors and shaving gel
- hand cleanser
- DEET

Tools and spare parts:
- Adjustable wrench
- hand pump
- a multi-tool
- 2 spare inner tubes

Other stuff:
- flashing tail light for riding at night
- headlamp for riding at night and for blackouts
- alarm clock
- silk sleep sack for sleeping in beds of questionable hygiene
- guidebook (Lonely Planet's Cycling Vietnam, Laos & Cambodia)
- book of detailed maps of Vietnam
- Vietnamese phrase book
- Shadows and Wind (a book on the current situation of Vietnam)
- my Konica Minolta Dimage A2 camera and battery charger

The list looks long, but everything together weighs about thirteen kilos, including the clothes on my body. I put everything in plastic bags before packing them in the panniers. The few days when I got rained on, the panniers were completely soaked through. But the system worked well, my clothes and everything else stayed dry.

During the trip, I had to wash my clothes on a daily basis, but I had a very efficient way of doing laundry. Now, this works only if the bathroom floor was clean enough that I felt comfortable walking in without shoes (most places I stayed at had clean bathroom floors). I would step into the shower with my clothes on, then soap up. I would then strip off, throw the clothes on the floor, and stomp on them as I showered. By the time I finished, the clothes would only need a quick rinse and voila! Shower, done; laundry, ready to dry. By the next day, the cycling clothes would normally be dry enough to wear. If they were still a little damp, I put them on anyway - they would be soaked in sweat soon. This method served me well. I would always have fresh-smelling, if not the cleanest, clothes to wear.

And that is the secret to a successful cycling trip.

The Reunification Express to Hanoi

So this is it! Seventeen-hundred kilometer in four weeks, Hanoi to Saigon. It has been a blast. Cycling in Vietnam has been such a pleasure, I would definitely do it all over again.

This was the first long-distance cycling trip I have done, and I definitely picked the right country to do it in. Whether for seasoned cyclists or beginners like me, Vietnam has all the right things for an enjoyable experience: nicely maintained roads with wide shoulder lanes, bus and truck drivers who know to pass cyclists with a comfortable margin, hotels and guesthouses that can be found in the smallest towns, the food and drink stalls next to all the roads, and the curious but friendly locals.

With the cycling part of the trip over, it is a perfect ending to take the train, the Reunification Express, back up to Hanoi. As the north-south train line roughly parallels Highway 1, the train ride will retrace my cycling trip in reverse at an accelerated pace.

With my bike handed over to its next owner, I now am really traveling light, with only my panniers and a small backpack to carry. I get to the train station with plenty of time for the 2300h departure. Getting on the train and finding my berth on the hard-sleeper carriage, I stow my bags and make the bed.

The hard-sleeper car has six berths to each enclosed compartment. The carriage is very clean and is similar to hard sleepers in China. But because Vietnam has narrow-gauge tracks, the trains are narrower than trains in China, thus lacking the fold-down seats in the corridor.

I share the compartment with an older Vietnamese couple who are also going to Hanoi. As the train pulls away from the station at exactly eleven o’clock, I get ready for bed. I will spend the next two nights and one day on this train.

I spend the next thirty hours reading and looking out the window. At quite a few places, I recognize the stretches of Highway 1 I rode on only a couple of weeks before. At Hai Van Pass between Danang and Hue, I get a different perspective on the breathtaking views of the South China Sea and the mountain from two weeks ago when I rode to the top of the pass.

The train pulls into the Hanoi train station at 4:30 a.m. Still sleepy, I stumble down the train into the chilly morning and get a ride on a motorbike to Hanoi Backpackers’ Hostel.

And so I am back to where I started four weeks ago. I have one day to spend here before flying to Singapore tomorrow.

Hanoi Scenes II:

Guarding Motorbikes

Baguette Vendors

Reading in Front of Vietnam's First Emperor

Joy Rides

Chatting at Dusk by Hoan Kiem Lake

Taking a Nap

Saigon at Last!

As I am loading up my bike this morning, I discover a flat tire on the back wheel. Partly padding myself on the back for having bike trouble only now, I flip the bike over and start to replace the punctured tube with a spare. Chris walks up and tells me that he is going to take the bus to Saigon.

This is the last riding day of my trip. I have to ride to Saigon. I know there is not going to be any scenery to speak of, but at this point, the ride is about finishing the trip. I make plans to meet up with Chris in Saigon in the afternoon and, for the last time, get on my bike and ride into the distance.

This section of Highway 1 is like the vena cava that returns blood to the heart of southern Vietnam – Saigon. The relatively thin traffic going out of Gia Ray is gradually joined by more and more pouring in from small veins draining the Mekong Delta. By the time I get to Bien Hoa, a satellite city thirty kilometers outside of Saigon, the flow is somewhat hampered by bumper-to-bumper clots built up here and there. Motorbike traffic spills onto the shoulder lane and swallows me up.

While the heavy traffic makes the ride into Saigon a challenge, it is by no means the death-defying circus act that some people have made it out to be. Sure, going around traffic circles is always an exercise in balance, reflex, peripheral vision, coordination, and assertion. But amidst the madness, there IS a pattern. From a month of riding in Vietnam, I have learned the dance. My tentative and clumsy steps in Hanoi has transformed into confident strides, carving out arcs while I take part in the choreography.

After riding in the traffic for a while, I stop to ask for directions and suddenly realize that I have just reached the middle of Saigon, Quan 1. Getting my bearings, I head to the train station and get myself a hard sleeper ticket for tonight to get back to Hanoi. I find Chris at his hotel and we sit down for dinner. Afterwards, we take a walk to transfer ownership of my bike.

My bike is old. I don’t know how old, but old. I picked it up at a used bike shop in Brisbane last year and rode it around Brisbane for almost two years before taking it to Vietnam. It is not worth the hassle to take it back to Australia. So while in Hoi An, I mentioned to my tailor Lan my plan to leave my bike in Vietnam. Without seeing the bike, Lan proposed to exchange my bike for two pairs of tailor-made pants. I was to deliver the bike to her friend in Saigon at the end of my trip.

Chris and I find Lan’s friend and drop off the bike with a little note to Lan. In the note, I ask Lan to enjoy and take care of the bike. Leaving the bike is almost like saying good bye to an old friend. My humble but reliable bike has served me well. It has propelled me through blistering heat and drenching rain, up mountain passes and through bumpy country roads, all without any complaints. I have never attached any sentimental values to any of my material possessions, but this bike may have to be the exception.

With that taken care of, Chris and I sit down and share a jug of Bia Hoi to celebrate the completion of a trip. At ten o’clock, we part ways and I head to the train station for the 2300h train to Hanoi.

Stats:
Distance: 105.3 km
Time: 4h 45m
Average speed: 22.1 kmph
Maximum speed: 50.0 kmph
Odometer: 1695.4 km

Mui Ne to Gia Ray

I have to leave Mui Ne this morning if I am to make it to Saigon tomorrow night.

Chris is feeling much better in the morning, but still not 100%. After considering the options of either staying in Mui Ne for an extra day to recover or go with me, he decides on the latter.

We eat a light breakfast and set out early, before it gets too hot. Taking it slow, we pass the city of Phan Thiet and go towards Saigon. By ten o'clock, we have covered twenty kilometers.

As the day heats up, we stop frequently for fluids. Chris is still dehydrated and tired from the ordeal yesterday, so the breaks are crucial. Stopping every ten kilometers or so, we make slow but steady progress. The scenery today is pretty boring, just drab towns along the way.

A little after five o'clock, we get into the town of Gia Ray. I ride in front and Chris trails behind. As we come to a fork in the road, I hear the sound of bike hitting concrete and a yell from behind me. Stopping and turning around, I see Chris and his bike flat on the ground. I run back. Chris lies on the ground, cursing. Apparently, fatigued and riding in the fading daylight, he ran over a rock on the road and completely wiped out. After a while, he gets up, and checks to make sure that he hasn't broken anything. Miraculously, he hasn't. While his helmet is cracked open, Chris comes out a little stunned but relatively unscathed, with only superficial scrapes on his arm and leg. A bunch of women sitting across the road in front of a bridal shop run over. They help him push his bike to their shop and start to bring out little bottles of solutions to clean his scrapes.

With Chris' road rash taken care of, we thank the women and walk for what seems like an eternity to the only hotel in town. Knowing that they are the only game in town, the receptionist tells us that they only have single rooms for 200,000 dong each. After such a long day, Chris is in dire need of a good shower and some basic level of comfort. With no other option, he checks into the hotel. I walk down the street to find a room at a very basic guesthouse down a dark alley for a quarter of the price.

By the time we settle into our respective places, it is already late. We will see how we feel and decide how to get to Saigon in the morning.

Stats:
Distance: 114.3 km
Time: 5h 49m
Average speed: 19.6 kmph
Maximum speed: 47.5 kmph
Odometer: 1590.1 km

Food Poisoning, Episode 2

I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of retching in the dark. "Chris?" I call out. "I guess I got it this time," he mumbles from the bathroom. I turn on the light. The only thing I can do is to offer him some water and activated charcoal pills. Having gone through the same thing only a little over two weeks ago, I know the only thing we can do is to let it run its course, so to speak. Climbing back onto bed, I search for tinges of cramping or discomfort in my stomach. None so far, but am I going to get it too?

In the morning when I wake up without having my stomach turned inside out, I am a bit relieved. Having been up all night, poor Chris is exhausted and dehydrated.

Last night we had dinner at one of the countless restaurants lining the road going out of town. Chris had beef, I had squid, and we shared vegetables. It could be the beef, it could be a local bug that I've gotten used to, or it could be what Chris had for lunch; we will never know.

Riding is out of the question for Chris. Our rest day will have to be extended, but only by one day. I will have to get to Saigon, two days away, by December 20 if I were to take the train back up to Hanoi. We will see how Chris feels tomorrow morning. I may have to go by myself.

While Chris is holed up in the hotel to recuperate, I ride out to the sand dunes for a quick look.

Waitress at a family cafe

The sand dunes at Mui Ne extends to the sea

Rippled Sand

Sunset at the fishing port

Afterglow

Coming Home

The Day's Haul

Local Cyclist

The Little Firewall of Vietnam

I almost forgot that Vietnam is still a one-party dictatorship that censors the ways people access information. So when, after I left Ha Long Bay, it became impossible for me to update my blog time and time again, I became really annoyed and blamed Blogspot. I sent them an email to express my displeasure.

Then it dawned on me that maybe it's because blogspot and other blogging sites are blocked in Vietnam. I did a search of discussion boards and, what do you know, my suspicions were true. Vietnam has set up its equivalent of the Great Firewall of China to control access to websites that may potentially be damaging to those in power. Blogging sites ... dissidents ... open and free discussions ... The government wasted no time to set up a filter to block them. I got onto a proxy server and there it was, my blog, just sitting there doing nothing.

Apparently the filter isn't working all that well, considering I was able to update my blog in Hanoi and Ha Long City. But it works well enough that I haven't been able to access it for more than two weeks. Now I'm in Mui Ne, 200 km northeast of Saigon, and by luck I came across an internet cafe that gives me acess to my blog again. Well, not quite - a lot of characters are not being displayed properly.

For the last two weeks, I've been emailing blog entries to myself. After I get out of Vietnam and find a reliable internet connection, I'll post the back-dated entries with pictures.

Ca Na to Mui Ne

Despite being next to Highway 1, the hotel in Ca Na is surprisingly quiet. Just like how I fell asleep last night, I wake up in the morning to the sound of small waves crashing onto the beach. The fishermen are out on their basket boats for their morning catch as the sun comes up. The sea is calm, the breeze cool and the sky blue, it is going to be another good day. Leaving Ca Na, I make a mental note to return to this delightfully empty beach town if I ever come back to Vietnam again.

As Chris and I start riding, the sun beats down unimpeded, warming up everything around us. The dry air blows across the arid landscape; and the land rapidly heats up. We are still riding through the driest area of Vietnam. The road first goes up a few gradual climbs, which are relatively easy if it weren't for the heat.

We stop at a stall selling watermelons at the top of one of the small hills. Sitting down, we maul our way through a small watermelon. This becomes a recurring theme for the rest of the day. Every half an hour or so, we would stop for fluids: mineral water, watermelon, coconut juice, sugar cane juice, etc. With the frequent breaks, the heat actually becomes tolerable.

At the town of Luong Son, we turn off from Highway 1 and go down the new road to Mui Ne. The road goes over a plateau, requiring some decent climbing. The road is obviously new - the lane markings look as if they have just been painted yesterday. In excellent condition, the road goes over undulating hills and through a couple of small villages. It sees so little vehicular traffic, the only thing I have to watch out for are goats or cows crossing the road. Going onto the main traffic lane, we push up hills, coast down to the bottom, ocassionally breaking for animals, and continue on like this for forty enjoyable kilometers.

As the sun sets, we pass a string of upscale resorts and reach the nondescript town of Mui Ne. The more reasonably-priced hotels are just beyond the town. We check into the first hotel just past the town.

As the sky darkens, the air cools with the breeze blowing in from the South China Sea. Time to give our legs a rest - tomorrow will be a rest day.

Stats:
Distance: 113.5 km
Time: 4h 37m
Average speed: 24.5 kmph
Maximum speed: 59.5 kmph
Odometer: 1414.6 km

Ba Ngoi to Ca Na

The hotel in Ba Ngoi where Chris and I are staying the night is right on Highway 1, so the traffic never really dies down at night. The night is punctuated by sounds of trucks and buses barreling through the town. One advantage of doing a cycling trip is, even if a typhoon hits, I can still sleep throught the night like a log.

In the morning, the combination of sunlight streaming through the window, animal noise, and the increasingly louder traffic noise works better than an alarm clock. After the morning rituals, we are off again.

Five kilometers south of town, we come upon a swanky-looking restaurant and decide to stop for breakfast. Although totally outside of town and next to Highway 1, it is quite a nice place. With real furniture and what looks like a concerted effort in decoration, the restaurant wouldn't look out of place in any big Western city. Prices on the menu are steep by Vietnamese standards but are still a bargain by Western standards. Chris and I order a couple of cheap breakfast items. Soon we are on our way again.

From the moment we get on our bikes, a generous tailwind starts to push us onward. During some stretches of the road, I wish I have a higher gear. This has got to be the most effortless day in the whole trip. The wind propels us at speeds up to 44 kmph over pancake flat roads.

Gradually, the landscape changes from lush green fields to arid, desert-like terrain. The population starts to thin out. Cacti start to appear at the side of the road, the air gets noticeably drier, the hills and mountains start to lose their green covering and become rocky. With the hot sun beating down from the cloudless sky, it start to feel like we are riding in the American Southwest rather than Vietnam. I never knew Vietnam has an area like this.

Assisted by the tailwind, we fly through this strangely un-Vietnamese landscape. Before long, we start to see little shacks appearing at the side of the road. A pungent smell hangs in the air despite the wind - or maybe the smell has already saturated the shacks and is now being blown about by the wind. It is the unmistakable smell of fish sauce. Every shack has bottles upon bottles of the golden nector of the sea for sale.

And with this introduction, we reach Ca Na. It's not much of a town, more of a collection of shacks with a few hotels in between. We become aware of how undeveloped the town is when every place in town that can afford it turns on its own generator as night falls.

Ca Na has a very nice beach - and it's deserted. We check into a hotel right on the beach, jump into the ocean for a swim, enjoy a quiet sunset, and have dinner at the excellent restaurant next to the hotel.

At night, I sit on the beach, enjoying the gentle breeze, the soothing rhythmic sound of the waves crashing onto the beach, and the blinking lights on fishing boats in the distance - what a way to end a day.

Stats:

Distance: 78.5 km

Time: 2h 44m

Average speed: 28.6 kmph

Max speed: 44.0 kmph

Odometer: 1301.1 km

Nha Trang to Ba Ngoi

I want to get to Saigon by the 20th at the latest and Chris is ready for some riding, so we get up at a decent hour and slowly get started. We are taking today easy, with only sixty kilometers on the agenda.

We have been informed of a brand new road out of Nha Trang south to the new airport that later joins Highway 1. A few kilometers south of town, we get on the new road. Besides the occasional bus or truck, the road is mostly empty - I call it Cyclists' Delight. After passing a couple of new housing developments in the suburbs of Nha Trang with what looks like villas for the upper class that wants to escape the city, we ride on the billiards-table smooth blacktop out of the city proper. The road hugs the coast for a while and goes up a gentle hill, giving an expansive view of Nha Trang and its outlying islands surrounded by turquoise water. For the next thirty kilometers, the quiet road snakes through a couple of hills and small sandy areas before straightening out into a broad boulevard heading toward the new airport. The whole way, there isn't one drink stall or vendor. Perhaps this is due to the road going through uninhabited areas, or it could be that the road is so new, people haven't yet had a chance to set up their stands on the side of the road.

After a long strech without seeing any place for food or drinks, we finally spot a restaurant over a large pond by a river. Hungry and thirsty, we stop for lunch. Walking past groups of men in business attires eating expensive-looking dishes, we sit down at a table. I see a waitress grilling what looks like squid on a little charcoal grill. I ask how much it is for a plate of rice with the squid. "Twenty thousand dong," she said. That sounds good, so we each order a plate. After a while, two plates of fried rice with white strips on top come out. We take a closer look - the white strips are tubular, looking more like worms than squid. The waitstaff, not speaking a word of English, can only tell us the strips are called "xa sung." I take a bite, it's chewy. After a lot of hand-waving and pointing to the pond by the waitstaff and a customer at the next table, we can only gather that it is something that lives in the mud at the bottom of the pond. Also, it is supposed to be "one of the five foods that are very good for you," according to the customer at the next table. I don't want to ask what the other four are. Well, we ordered it, and it doesn't taste bad, might as well eat it. I start to eat while Chris picks around the worms. Whatever "xa sung" is, it had better not give me some kind of parasite.

With that bit of drama over, we cross the bridge next to the restaurant and come to a drink stand with coconuts on the ground and hammocks strung up on poles. Here I introduce Chris to the pleasure of enjoying coconut juice while swinging on a hammock - perfect antidote for a hot day like this.

Just for a perfect ending for the first day of riding together with Chris, a nice tailwind makes the second half of the ride effortless. We reach our destination of Ba Ngoi just before the sun sets.

Stats:

Distance: 58.5 km

Time: 2h 49m

Average speed: 20.8 km/h

Maximum speed: 58.5 km/h

Odometer: 1222.6 km

Dai Lanh to Nha Trang

With a pretty and deserted beach, Dai Lanh is a nice place for hanging around a bit, even with the prostitutes in front of every other shop trying to get business. But I have to head down to Nha Trang to meet up with Chris for the rest of the ride to Saigon.

I walk out of the guesthouse and see the bright sunlight beating down on the courtyard of the guesthouse. This is the first time so far in Vietnam with not a cloud in the sky. Glad that I won't have to face the prospect of riding in the rain anymore, I say goodbye to Adrian and head down the road.

A strong headwind greets me as I start, and it stays for most of the day, making it one of the more difficult days. However, this is compensated by the spectacular scenery along the way, with mountains to the west, the ocean to the east, and rice paddies flanking the road on either side. The road goes over a few small mountain passes and undulating hills. Add the strong sun beating down into the mix, and that makes a perfect day for swinging on a hammock and sipping coconut or sugar cane juice.

Ninety kilometers and several long hammock breaks later, I roll into Nha Trang and pass the inviting beach and broad oceanside promenade where locals hang out in the late afternoon sun. I check into the hotel where Chris is staying and we go to dinner.

After quite a few days out of touristy places and already gotten used to the much cheaper prices of small towns, I brace myself for all the trappings that come with a big tourist drawcard like Nha Trang: inflated prices for everything and the constant call of "Motorbike?" by drivers hanging out on curbs.

Stats:

distance: 89.7 km

time: 4h 35m

Avg: 19.5 km/h

Max: 49.5 km/h

Odometer: 1164.2 km

Quy Nhon to Dai Lanh

Quy Nhon has a nice little beach with a broad beachfront promenade. With the fancy hotels springing up at the beachfront, it is developing into a nice beach town. But for now, it's still a laid back small town overshadowed by the hugely popular Nha Trang to the south, and so it has few tourists around. It's a nice enough town to hang around for a few days. But for me, that'll have to be next time, because I'm on a schedule to meet up with Chris, my riding partner for the final week of my trip.

As I'm packing up my bike to leave the hostel, someone comes down the stairs with panniers in tow. Glad to see another cyclist, I start to talk to him. After a brief conversation and finding out that we're going the same direction, Adrian from Switzerland and I decide to ride together for the day.

Heading out of Quy Nhon, we're immediately greeted by a substantial climb up a mountain pass. Fortunately, traffic is light and we coast down the mountain at a good clip. The coast down these hills is always worth the effort it takes to get to the top.

For the rest of the day, we go through what is familiar by now: wave to friendly passers-by and kids at the side of the road and ride through scenery ranging from busy roadside markets to rice paddies stretch to the horizon to little villages hemmed in by mountains. Vehicular traffic is light today, so we occupy the whole shoulder lane and fly down the highway.

As dusk approaches, we're still twenty kilometers from our destination Dai Lanh. Deo Ca is the mountain pass just before the town. We have no choice but to press on. Deo Ca is a relatively high mountain pass with 3.5 km of climbing. We put on our flashing back lights and start the climb. Thankfully the road surface is perfectly paved with no potholes. We get to the top without too much drama save for a little section where we have to go over dug-up roads under construction. Coasting down the other side is another experience all together. Barely making out the contours of the road under the dim moonlight, our downhill glide has to be carefully controlled lest one or both of us crash onto a fallen rock. The occasional passing car provides enough illumination to allow us a faster ride. Towards the end, a girl on a motorbike goes slow enough for us to keep up and leads us all the way into the town of Dai Lanh.

Looking for the sole hotel in town, we are lead down a dirt track next to the railroad. We stop to ask directions in front of a crumbling house. A young woman laughs and starts to make suggestive gestures at us while pointing to the house. We walk past a few more houses and encounter the same explicit invitation. Finally, we find the hotel, and are grateful the hotel is not the type that charges by the hour. Later, while going to dinner, we are met by young women at the side of the road waving at us invitingly. We learn that Dai Lanh has been nicknamed "Truckers' Delight." The whole town is basically a giant red-light district where the world's oldest profession flourishes. Looking for some alternative entertainment, we end up shooting pool with a kid from the roadside restaurant where we had dinner.

Stats:
Distance: 142.9 km
Time: 6h 4m
Average speed: 23.5 kmph
Maximum speed: 58.0 kmph
Odometer: 1074.5 km

Duc Pho to Quy Nhon

Today I have a one-track mind: to pedal the 140 km to Quy Nhon before it gets dark. Last time I did over 100 km I had to do the last 10 km in the dark. That wasn't so much fun.

Last night I heard rain throughout the night, but it looks like the weather is cooperating this morning. I'm out the door at 8 am. Three kilometers later, it's breakfast time. Fifteen minutes and two bowls of pho later, I'm back on the road.

The Vietnamese diet is perfect for cycling. It's high in carbs and low in fat and protein. Whether it's pho, bun, or rice, it always comes with a bit of meat and salad. The portions are big enough to fill me up, but small and light enough that I won't feel bloated or lethargic after the meal. When I'm on the road, I often pop into one of the countless roadside stalls selling these tasty noodle soups throughout the day. A bowl or two of noodle soups are enough to propel me through the next twenty kilometers or more.

After lunch, I'm back on the road. The midday heat makes me search for a good spot for a break. In a village, I spot a lush area in front of a drink stall with a bunch of green coconuts on the ground. Under the trees, a few hammocks swing idly with the breeze. Perfect! I lean my bike against one of the trees, order two coconuts from the drink lady, and stretch out on a hammock. With the breeze gently blowing, I lay in the hammock and drink the sweet coconut juice. My eyes gaze upwards through the trees and at nothing in particular. I can spend the rest of the day like this, I think to myself.

But my one-track mind wins the day. A half hour later, I'm back on the road, pedal to the meta...uh, pedal to the...whatever, my legs are back in automatic mode: push, push, push. I wave to the kids yelling hello from inside their houses, exchange glances with passengers on passing buses, and nod hello to farmers on the side of the road taking a break from work. With the wind blowing past my ears, I fly down the road. Some parts of Highway 1 follows the undulating hills. I power up each hill, then enjoy the coast down to the trough, then up the next hill, then down...

Towards five o'clock, I ride into the center of Quy Nhon. After looking at a couple of hotels, both offer rooms for $10, I pedal on, in search of one that offers cheaper rooms. By chance, I happen upon a backpacker's hostel by the beach. "Do you have dorm beds?" I ask. "Yes, 40,000 dong per night." That's music to my ear.

I push the bike up the ramp into the hostel as the last ray of light evaporates and darkness covers the sky. Mission accomplished!

Stats:

Distance: 139.9 km

Time: 6h 4m

Average speed: 23.1 kmph

Maximum speed: 54.5 kmph

Odometer: 931.5 km

Country Hospitality and Memorial to an Atrocity

Despite the hard plank bed, I sleep through the night like a baby. At six o'clock in the morning, I wake up to the chorus of crowing roosters outside. For a second, I don't remember where I am. But the familiar voices of Chuong and Thu talking outside immediately brings yesterday's events back to me. Feeling refreshed, I roll out of bed.

The rain has stopped, the sky is still overcast. I walk outside and see Chuong, his mother, and Thu already tending to their livestock. "Xin Chao!" I say to the three of them. "Good morning," Chuong replies in English. "Did you sleep well?" he asks. "Like a baby," I assure him.

I ask to use their outhouse. By the time I come back, breakfast is already sitting on the table in the living room. We sit down for a delicious meal of chicken rice porridge. Then it is time to say good bye to Chuong's mother. At this point, I am kicking myself for not having brought anything to give her as a token of gratitude. As I say good bye, I try to give her some money as a way to say thank you. She steadfastly refuses to take it, as do Chuong and Thu. The only thing they want is for me to take a few snap shots of them and send them the pictures. I happily oblige. After a cup of coffee with Chuong and Thu, I say good bye to everyone at Chuong's cousin's shop and ride towards My Lai. My sneakers are still soggy from yesterday's rain, so I strap them to the rear rack and ride in my thongs.

As I ride slowly down the road, I replay in my head the events that happened in the last fifteen hours: the chance encounter, the halting conversation, the invitation, the feast, a night in the humble house... I am astonished by these people's generosity. It is clear that, although not mired in wrenching poverty by local standards, they are by no means rich. Yet they go out of their way to show a foreigner they barely know the kind of hospitality no amount of money can buy. It is the kind of hospitality to which even a free stay at the most luxurious five-star resort would pale in comparison. Did I take a huge risk by accepting their invitation to their home? Sure! But if I were averse to risk-taking, I would not even have left home in the first place. And maybe "never take candy from strangers" is not such a hard and fast rule after all. In fact, candy from strangers tastes extra sweet.

With this going through my head, I ride through a few small villages. The road is a mix of decaying paved surface and compacted dirt road. I slow down and follow the somewhat smooth trails on the road formed by countless wheels that have gone by before.

At noon, I reach the village of My Lai, site of the 1968 massacre of hundreds of civilians, mostly women and children, by American soldiers. The village looks like any ordinary Vietnamese village save for the memorial and museum built at the original site of the massacre. I park my bike and walk in to the museum. A simple but effective exhibit recounts the bloody morning of March 16, 1968. Walking past graphic photographs of the lifeless bodies of the elderly, men, women, children, and babies strewn across fields and roads, crude models of US soldiers firing at civilians, and reading about the cover-up that happened afterwards, I can't help but think of what is going on right now in Iraq. I desperately hope that we will not one day learn about a My Lai of Iraq. I come out of the museum and walk around the memorial, part of which consists of foundations of houses razed that morning. The frame and one wall of a burned house stands in front of a concrete statue, memorializing the horrors the villagers faced that day.

For the rest of the day, My Lai weighs heavy on my mind. I ride out of the village and the road rejoins Highway 1. I ride slowly, thinking about the emotional up and down I experienced today. Time passes by as the wheels roll past one town after another. In the late afternoon, I decide to stop at the drab town of Duc Pho for the night.

Stats:
Distance: 87.6 km
Time: 4h 16m
Average speed: 20.4 kmph
Odometer: 791.6 km

Strangers with Candy

Throughout the night, I hear rain coming down in sporadic downpours. By dawn, the sky is gray, but the road is dry and people are out and about. After a filling breakfast of fruit, baguettes with cheese, and coffee, I strap the panniers on the bike and leave the enchanting Hoi An. Now the panniers are a couple of kilos heavier, thanks to the shirts and pants I had tailor-made at one of the shops.

The road goes through a couple of small villages before joining Highway 1. The scenery changes from anonymous and drab-looking towns to verdant rice paddies stretching to the horizon with small houses and huts dotting the landscape.

In the afternoon, the sky starts to darken. Then rain, first a few drops here and there, becomes a drizzle, then the sky opens up and comes a downpour. I duck into a roadside drink stand to wait it out. Swinging on a hammock and sucking on coconut juice through a straw, I really think I can get used to this.

The rain soon passes. I reluctantly roll off the hammock and start riding again.

In an hour, another downpour. Completely drenched, I stop at a tea house along with a few other people to wait out the rain. As I lean my bike against a fence post, a young couple on their motorbike rush in. I take out my map and ask them if they can point out where I am at the moment. As we start talking, I find out that Chuong and Thu are in their late twenties, have recently gotten married and moved up from Saigon. They live in a village outside of the next town five kilometers down the road. The conversation is a bit of a struggle as they reach for words, but much better than other talks I've attempted with the locals where I'm the one butchering the pronunciation of Vietnamese words. As the rain turns into a fine drizzle, they ask if I'd like to have coffee.

Sitting in a roadside cafe, we find out more about each other. I tell them the basics about myself and ask them about their family, jobs, etc. The rain gets heavy again. They look at each other, then invite me to spend the night at their home.

I hesitate for a split second. I hardly know these people, is it safe? It's the adult equivalent of taking candy from strangers. This could be the best experience on this trip, or it could turn into a nightmare. Are they planning on luring me into going somewhere with them, then kill me for my money and passport, or at least rob me? As these thoughts flash through my mind, I decide that it's one of the occasions where I should use my gut feeling - and my gut feeling says "Go for it!"

I ask them to repeat it again just to make sure I am hearing right. Yes, it is an invitation into their home. I agree, and thank them. With the rain lightening up again, we set off down the road, pass the town of Chau O, and out into the villages.

Stopping at a shop about five kilometers down a country road, Chuong introduces me to his counsin and her children. Like many people in small towns and villages, they operate a small shop in front of their house, selling snacks, coffee, and gasoline. As my gut instinct tells me again that these are genuinely hospitable people, I take the panniers off my bike when night falls. Then in a flash, the power is cut. Chuong says nonchalantly, "The electricity is out again." Apparently this is a common occurrance in his village.

Wanting to change out of my wet clothes, I ask for the bathroom where I can take a shower. I'm lead to the back of the house. Using gestures, Chuong's cousin tells me that there's no shower, but I can scoop water out of a bucket to wash. He then proceeds to use a bucket tied to a rope to take water out of a well. It'll be a cold wash, thankfully it's a warm evening. I'm now no stranger to washing by scooping water over my head.

After the refreshing "shower," I go back out to the front and chat with Chuong and Thu. Despite my hungry and grumbling stomach, I sit patiently for dinner. After an hour or so, Chuong tells me dinner is ready.

I turn around and see a beautiful spread of dishes sitting by candlelight on the sparklingly shiny tile floor. While I was in the bathroom, I heard a chicken being slaughtered. And here it is, being served up in a couple of plates. People stream in and take their seat on the floor, forming an oval around the food. Chuong's whole extended family is here: uncles, aunts, cousins, and children of various ages are all sitting down, talking to Chuong, and throwing glances and smiles at me.

Dinner starts with a round of cheers with beer. I normally don't drink, but this time I feel obligated to have a couple of glasses of beer. The food is most delicious - the best meal I've had on this trip: flavorful chicken with fresh basil; small spring rolls wrapped with pork and Vietnamese salad in rice paper, then dipped in light fish sauce; rice porridge cooked with chicken broth. I remind myself not to attack the food like I usually do after a long day of riding, but still help myself to helping after helping of the food. The beer is free-flowing among the other men in the circle. After the second glass, one of them takes out a bottle of the potent rice wine. This is where I draw the line. Running the risk of offending the hosts, I steadfastly refuse shots of the nosehair-wilting potion. Fortunately, they understand and I get away with just sipping beer.

After dinner, it's time to head to Chuong's house for some sleep. Chuong and Thu live with Chuong's brother and mother in a modest house next to the rice paddy they farm with a pig pen in front and chickens running among the trees. I sleep in the living room on a wooden bed covered by a frayed straw mat with a pink mosquito net hanging over it.

As I drift off to sleep, the rain starts to come down again, softly tapping on the roof; the trees outside rustle as the wind blows.

Stats:
Distance: 105.6 km
Time: 4h 44m
Average speed: 22.3 kmph
Odometer: 704.0 km

Hoi An

I came to Hoi An last year. It was raining the entire time so I did not get to see much. The sunny and balmy weather today is a nice contrast to the gray and wet Hue. I am told that it was good timing on my part to have arrived yesterday. It had been raining for quite a few days before that and a couple of streets near the river were flooded. Today the water has receded, leaving a slippery coat of mud on the streets and sidewalks next to the river.

A far cry from its heyday as a major international port when the Portuguese and the Dutch ruled the high seas, Hoi An is now a living museum with a charming juxtaposition of the modern and the traditional. It is a pleasure to walk around the compact Old Town. The narrow streets, lined by houses in various stages of decay and restoration, are open only to motorbikes and bicycles. These houses now contain residences, restaurants, specialty shops, tailor shops, and boutiques. While many of these shops and restaurants cater to foreign tourists, the locals going about their daily activities in the streets and at the central market prevent the town from turning into a theme park.

Strolling past the central market, I come upon Lan's tailor shop. I had a couple of shirts and pants made here last year and I was very happy with what I got. Well, I am here, I think I will have a few more made. So I walk in and, to my surprise, Lan recognizes me. I am keenly aware that whatever I buy, I will have to haul all the way down to Saigon with me. With that in mind, I limit myself to two shirts and two pairs of pants. After she finishes measuring me, Lan tells me, "Every measurement is bigger by two centimeters compared to last year. Looks like you gained about five kilos." I beam proudly, "That's right, but it's a lot of hard work to gain those five kilos." Giving me a motherly disapproving look, Lan says, "I will give you extra fabric in the seams so you can let out the pants next year." What, does she expect me to balloon up to 100 kilos next year?

Used to dealing with customers who have short stops in town, Lan's tailor shop is able to have my clothes made and fitted within twenty four hours. After dinner, I walk over to the shop and pick up the finished product. After bidding them good bye, I stroll down the winding streets cast in a shade of yellow by the street lamps.

I hope the weather will be good tomorrow, because I will get on my bike again and head farther south, now with my panniers a couple of kilos heavier.

Lantern Shop

School Girls in Their White Ao Dai

Just Passing Through