The bus ride from Dalat to Nha Trang started in the remote reaches
of the central highlands of Vietnam. We
were driving down a twisting, desolate road similar to the one that brought us up into the
mountains just a day earlier. Aman and I
were in good spirits, having enjoyed our visit to the Crazy House in Dalat and looking
forward to getting back to the beach.
Given the huge improvement over our last bus, I was hopeful
that we would have a smooth ride.
But, about an hour into our drive, things turned mildly interesting when
a Western girl from the back of the bus slowly walked forward to speak to the
driver (who spoke no English). She
hesitated a little when she began… Um, can we make a stop
before Nha Trang… A stop? A stop to use the toilet? The driver looked over his shoulder, half confused/half
bothered, and kept driving. The girl patiently repeated herself. She looked hopeful for
some kind of response. Ummm… before we get to Nha Trang, a stop? Toilet?
A toilet stop? Bathroom?
The driver said not a word, but abruptly stopped the bus in
the middle of the road and jerked the door open. We were in the absolute middle of
nowhere. Some of us on the bus laughed
quietly at the comedy that was unfolding, as the driver began speaking at a
rapid pace in Vietnamese. The girl
looked out of the side window – contemplating how badly she needed to go, no
doubt – and then looked back at the friend with whom she was traveling. She had an expression on her face that said,
PLEASE HELP ME. The driver was still
muttering on in Vietnamese as the girl started back to her seat. He closed the door, resumed driving and kept
talking to himself.
About an hour later, we stopped at one of the few open-air, roadside
restaurants that we passed on the drive through the mountains. I’m still not clear what motivated the driver
to do so… at first, I thought it was because he really did understand the word
“toilet” and was giving us all a break to use it. But, by the time everyone had gotten off the
bus and taken a bathroom break, our man was washing the bus. Most people (including me and Aman) ordered
and then ate banh mi (the torpedo-shaped baguette sandwich introduced by the French colonialists and common in Vietnam) while we waited and watched in a state of semi-confusion. Two hours into a long ride on a dusty
mountain road just didn’t seem to be the right time to wash an over-sized
vehicle full of passengers…
When our man was done washing every last inch of the bus, he
indicated that he was going to go into the restaurant and eat by using one hand
to make a circular motion over his belly.
Hilarious. After a good 45-minute
break, we were back on the road.
The rest of the ride went relatively quick and, soon enough,
it looked as though we were driving through a fairly big town. We paid particular attention to the signs
above the shops on either side of the road for some clue as to where we
were. (In Vietnam, these signs typically
bear the full address). Sure enough, the
shops indicated that we had reached Nha Trang.
Nha Trang is a major beach destination on the coast of the
South China Sea. Although Mui Ne and Nha
Trang are both beach towns, that is about where their similarities end. Mui Ne is
a little fishing village, whereas Nha Trang is a proper city with high-rise
big-name hotels (Sheraton, Novotel, and coming soon, the Marriott), a couple of
topnotch beach clubs, and a developed waterfront area with protected footpaths
that wind up and down the shore through sculpted shrubbery and neatly trimmed patches of lawn. (And, judging by the industrial
cranes looming up and down the coast, we would say that development is on
course to continue.)
It was just before sunset when we hit the coast. The bus turned right on Tran Phu, the
wide-set boulevard that runs along the shoreline. After a few more turns, the bus stopped on
the side of a smaller road. It wasn’t a
bus station by any means, but the gaggle of touts on the sidewalk – ready to
pounce – let us know that we had reached our destination. Thankfully, our hotel was only a five-minute
walk away. Aman and I dropped our things
and quickly set out in the direction of the nearby waterfront to explore. We were happy that the huge expanse of
beautiful beach was very clean and, given the hour, not too crowded.
We stopped briefly at the Sailing Club (a fancy little beach
club that Aman and I really liked) to have a drink before dinner, and to nail
down exactly what we wanted to accomplish over the next two days while we were
in town. Aman had already done his
homework and identified an isolated beach that we wanted to check out named Doc
Let (pronounced Yop Lek), which was about
45 minutes north of Nha Trang. We
decided to go there the next morning and so we spent some time our first night
making the necessary arrangements for a car/driver, in addition to generally
exploring the Nha Trang nightlife – unlike many Vietnamese cities which shut
down early, Nha Trang stays up late.
When we woke the following day, it was beautiful outside –
the perfect weather for exploring an untapped beach. We grabbed a tasty breakfast at a café across
the street from our hotel and were just wrapping up when our friendly looking, non-English
speaking driver arrived. We jumped in
the car, and started north along Tran Phu.
Our driver made a quick stop no more than 10 minutes into the ride to
grab a banh mi at a sidewalk food
stall. Again, hilarious. It was definitely no big deal, but as we waited,
Aman and I marveled at how our Vietnamese drivers seemingly made the most randomly
timed stops (gas, food, a car wash, etc.) after picking us up.
After our driver’s banh
mi break, we were barreling out of Nha Trang (literally, weaving in and out
of oncoming traffic on a two-lane road, as is customary in these parts) with
mountains to our left and the South China Sea to our right. Everywhere, more scenic beauty – we passed a
lot of salt fields, which we almost mistook for rice fields, since they share a
similar design. The fields were dotted
with women in conical hats, women with shallow baskets tethered to a pole and
slung over their shoulders, and, on the raised pathways that divided the
fields, you could see various modes of transportation – bicycles, scooters,
buffalo – sitting idle. You could tell
that a lot of fishing activity goes on in the waters. Boats, huge nets, and little fishing shacks
built on stilts sat offshore in the calm water of the bay.
After exiting the main road and driving through one of the smallest
towns we had yet seen, we finally pulled into the parking lot for the
beach. We told our driver (in a
combination of simple English and hand signals) that we would see him at 5
p.m., and took off towards the water. On
the way, we passed a group of locals having a morning feast of crabs, which
looked like they had been just caught.
A virtually deserted beach, Doc Let was AMAZING!! This idyllic setting was more beautiful than
either of us could have imagined – the sand was a soft white, and the water was
crystal clear. Mountains sat on either
end of the bay, and colorful fishing boats bobbed happily offshore.
Aman and I strolled up and down the tranquil shore a couple
of times before finding a beach resort (there were only a handful), which
looked like a comfortable place to relax for the afternoon. We grabbed a couple of beach chairs and an
umbrella, hung up our bags, and took to the calm, warm water.
When the afternoon had gotten late, I started to pack up and
told Aman that I needed to make a quick bathroom run before we started back to
the car. I noticed two guys sitting at
the end of our row of beach chairs, as I started for the resort. By the time I returned, Aman had struck up a
conversation with our fellow beach goers.
Alex and Caleb, two buddies from Seattle, Washington who had recently
taken a break from their jobs and were in the first few weeks of their own extended
travels through Asia. Just like us, Alex had been
keeping a blog (www.alexpickering.blogspot.com)… Hmm, it seemed we had some things in common
with these two guys, and we liked them immediately. After sharing a few travel stories and some
laughs about our respective misadventures, it was time to go. We made plans to meet Alex and Caleb for a
drink later that evening when we got back to Nha Trang, where they were also staying.
On the walk back, Aman and I noticed that it had gotten slightly
crowded since we arrived. No tourists
though, only locals. We passed one group
of young kids, maybe high-school students, who were playing some game that involves
holding your breath and running after/tagging people. In Hindi, it’s known as kabaddi. Don’t ask me, it
was a game that I had never played growing up, but Aman recognized it
immediately and his eyes grew wide. I know this game… do you think they’ll let
me play, he asked distractedly. You should ask, I encouraged, while
grabbing the camera. Man, did these kids
get a kick out of it when Aman jumped in the game. And, at twice the size (or more) of the
Vietnamese teenagers on the field, he gave the girls quite a scare as he came playfully
tearing after them.
On the drive back to Nha Trang, we watched the sun set
behind the mountains. Plenty of people were still hard at work in the fields.
After one brief mid-way stop (so our driver could eat!), we were back at
our hotel and getting ready for the evening.
We met Alex and Caleb at the Sailing Club around 8 p.m. After a few rounds and some more laughs, they
had to take off to catch a train north to Danang. We exchanged contact information and left
open the idea of meeting up in Hoi An, where we would all be in a couple of
days.
Aman and I stayed behind and enjoyed a couple of more drinks
at the Sailing Club, as the place had really started picking up and looked too
fun to leave. Eventually we realized
that it had gotten late, and we had not eaten dinner. We weren’t in the mood for anything fancy, so
we opted to venture out in search of some delicious Vietnamese street
food. It was not two blocks later until
we each had banh mi in our hands and
smiles on our faces – a perfect ending to a great day.
Our last day in Nha Trang started the same way it had the
day before – at the awesome café across the street from our hotel. We ate a leisurely breakfast at one of the
sidewalk tables out front, which was especially nice because it allowed us to
take in the busy morning street traffic of rickshaw drivers, food vendors,
scooters, and ladies milling about in conical hats.
After breakfast, we made our way to the beach. The scene at the beach club where we decided
to lounge (Louisiane Brewhouse) was much livelier than the isolated little gem
we had discovered the day before, but it provided a nice contrast. And, of course, the turquoise waters of the
bay made for a sensational backdrop.
We hit the streets after a couple of hours in search of an
art gallery in the heart of Nha Trang that we had read about, the Long Thanh Gallery. Thanh is a local photographer
whose work has been exhibited all around the world. He takes black-and-white images of the simple
moments in everyday Vietnamese life.
Very moving, well worth the visit.
After thanking Thanh for sharing his work with us and saying
good-bye, we were back on the hot city streets.
We did not have much time before the night bus to Hoi An was scheduled
to pick us up, and we still wanted to try one restaurant before we left Nha
Trang: Lanterns. (We had tried to eat there on our first night
in Nha Trang, but it was so packed that we got denied.) So we set off for a late lunch, which was
easily the best meal that we had in Nha Trang.
We ordered seafood banh xeo (a
delicate crepe/pancake rolled with various seafood, fresh vegetables and herbs)
and braised cod in a hotpot (again, served with local vegetables and fresh
spices/herbs) – both bursting with classic Vietnamese flavors and delicious!
Moreover, Lanterns is very involved in the local community, which we
thought was awesome. They allow you to
join them in visiting a local orphanage and distributing food to those in
need. We were only slightly disappointed
that we learned about this on the last day in Nha Trang, since we would have
loved to participate.
We went back to the hotel to wash up and pack. Waiting in the lobby of our hotel, we again
made bets on what condition our bus would be in when it arrived. The ride from Nha Trang to Hoi An was a good
twelve hours, and Aman unilaterally declared that, if we did not have a sleeper
bus for this leg of the journey, we would be staying in Nha Trang another
night. So, you could imagine his
reaction when a regular old mini-bus pulled up, and the familiar local
Vietnamese type of guy jumped off and started for our hotel.
I had barely said yes in response to the man’s simple
question of, Hoi An?, before he had picked up two of our bags and turned in the
direction of the bus. Aman was right on
his heels, firing questions. Long story short, the
mini-bus was not the bus that would take us to Hoi An, but rather the shuttle bus
that would take us to the sleeper bus that would take us to Hoi An. Aman looked skeptical, but we got on.
We were first on the bus, and made several stops for
additional passengers. One particularly
intoxicated young fellow was among the first group of people that we picked
up. The last group was a lesser, but
still intoxicated group of Brits, one of whom (like Aman) initially refused to get on the
bus, as it was not the sleeper bus that he was promised. The guy’s friends tried to convince him that
we were all going to get on a sleeper bus before leaving for Hoi An, but he thought
it was all some sort of prank and it required some degree of persuasion to get
him on the bus so we could continue on.
After the mini-bus dropped us off at the sleeper bus (it did
exist!), it went and got another bus full of passengers. We waited on the sidewalk for someone to open
the sleeper bus, which didn’t happen until the second mini-bus full of
passengers arrived. In the meantime, the
very intoxicated guy alternated between passing out on the sidewalk and
demanding the other passengers to let him on the bus. The rest
of us exchanged worried looks about which unfortunate soul would wind up
sitting next to him for the next twelve hours… Thankfully, it was not us. Aman and I were happily situated on top seat/beds near the front of the bus.
It was after 8 p.m. when the bus finally got moving, and we
were soon asleep. When I awoke, we were driving
along a countryside road lined with rice fields. The sun was coming up over an overcast sky
and the fields were covered in a hazy morning mist. Not long thereafter, in the early morning
hours, we reached Hoi An, another coastal town in central Vietnam. From the bus station, we took a smaller van into the center of town. One of the Brits who had been sleeping in the seat/bed behind Aman casually asked his buddy if he heard "that guy" snoring last night on the bus. Aman proudly leaned forward and said, That was me, man.
Given the time, our hotel room was
understandably not ready when we arrived. We asked for a
room on the opposite side of the property from a very loud rooster, which I had actually read about on TripAdvisor, and threw our big bags behind the front
desk of the hotel – underneath a wall of clocks that conveniently showed the
time in various international cities. It
was 8:00 a.m. in Hanoi, 9:45 a.m. in Tokyo, 2:20 a.m. in London… Wait, what???
To pass the time, we found a good place next to our hotel to
grab breakfast after consulting the “comments” book in the front lobby, where
previous guests helpfully pointed us in the direction of Restaurant 328. This place didn’t look any different than any
of the other open-face roadside restaurants offering a bite to eat, motorbike
rental, and/or laundry services. But it was run by a super nice local woman who promised us she had the best food in town and would make us anything we wanted. We
opted for two bowls of pho, which
turned out to be really delicious, and a motorbike that we hopped on
immediately when we were done eating. (The
laundry we gave to our hotel to wash…)
Once we had wheels, our first destination was the Old Town,
which was a five-minute ride from our hotel.
We heard so much about the Old Town since arriving in Vietnam. Romantic, picturesque, charming… these were
just a few of the words that we had witnessed people use to describe Hoi An. And in our opinion, Hoi An, a fine example of
a traditional Vietnamese trading port, perfectly fit these descriptions.
The Old Town consists of small narrow lanes of pedestrian traffic, which are mercifully closed to motor traffic, and lined with handsome little wooden buildings painted mustard yellow. Built right upon the water, there were plenty of traditional Vietnamese boats floating by and a footbridge adorned with festive lanterns. The town was left unscathed by the Vietnam War and also received status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999. As a result, it is exceptionally well preserved. Aman and I wandered aimlessly about, taking in how beautiful everything looked.
We were very excited to check out some of the tailor shops –
Hoi An is famous for and has a plentiful supply of them. But, we decided to first stop at the hotel
and grab some of our favorite clothes so that they could be replicated at the
tailor shop. On the way out of town, we
took a small detour to check out the beach, which was wildly angry. White-capped waves crashing on the otherwise
gray shore, and the wind so strong it made our motorbike sway as we drove. It was not a hard decision, from there, to
spend the rest of the day in the Old Town.
We spent HOURS at two or three particular tailor shops – sorting through
fabrics, picking fits and styles, bargaining for a price. It was exhausting.
We rewarded ourselves with an amazing late afternoon meal at
the Mermaid Restaurant, whose menu featured all of the local cuisine – with lots of local specialties, Hoi An is well regarded as one of the
most fun places to eat out in Vietnam.
We tried the banh xeo, the cao lau (thick doughy noodles topped
with greens, bean sprouts and tender slices of pork), and the famous “white
rose” (tasty morsels of meat atop steamed rice paper, all of which is arranged
in the shape of a flower).
It was delicious.
Across the street from the restaurant, we watched some locals eating on
the sidewalk… everything looked so good.
Aman and I wondered aloud how we were going to be able to sample it all
before we left for Hue in two days.
After we finished eating, we drifted with the other street
traffic back towards Le Loi, the street where we parked the motorbike. Our bike was annoyingly temperamental, and as
Aman patiently struggled to get it started, Alex and Caleb walked by. It was awesome to see them again! We confirmed plans to have dinner with them
that night at one of the more upscale restaurants in town, Mango Rooms, and
talked briefly about what we had all been up to since parting in Nha Trang (i.e.,
spending the day in Hoi An at the tailors).
Aman finally got the bike going and, before it could stall again, I quickly waved to Alex and Caleb, and we sped off.
Aman and I met up with the guys again later that
evening. As we walked to Mango Rooms, I
noticed how the Old Town looked even more charming at night, all lit up with red lanterns. The restaurant was right on
the water. A fun place painted in vibrant colors with a centrally located kitchen and lots of small seating areas. Not exactly a place that offers the local
specialties, their menu is a creative fusion of both local and international
flavors. Aman and I both tried the
pan-fried red snapper, which was absolutely divine. And Alex and Caleb, of course, were excellent
company. After dinner and a couple hours
of great conversation, we all walked to a café-bar in the Old Town that was
PACKED. It seemed as though everyone in
town was there having a drink. We
grabbed one of the last tables and, conscious of how expensive imported wine
and liquor tends to be in these parts, we asked for – no, we insisted upon – the
cheap local stuff. Oy, not exactly our
brightest idea…. Without getting into all the boring details, let’s just say
the night got eventful from there, and everyone got properly “sharm”-ed. Fun times!
Aman and I ended the night in the wee hours of the morning
with a xe om (motorbike taxi) ride
back to our hotel. With the two of us holding on for dear life, our motorbike taxi driver zipped along the quiet streets with the confidence of a person who had driven them all his life. When we reached the hotel, Aman promptly declared that he was hungry and needed some banh mi before we could go to
sleep. (To be fair, it was almost
breakfast time.) I tried to be
sympathetic, but I was exhausted and it was way past my bedtime. So Aman departed on a solo mission that led
him eventually to a commercial bakery that was churning out loaves of bread. The next morning, I would awake to find a
plastic bag with three small baguettes in it – two of which were inexplicably half
eaten.
That day, we spent running around from tailor to tailor being
fitted for our new clothes. We had
traded in our temperamental bike for a better, newer one that morning, which
was a good thing, since we must have hopped on and off it at least half a dozen
times that day. At one point, late in
the afternoon, we hopped off and parked – not in our usual spot on Le Loi, north of Phan Chu Trinh – but, a little
bit closer to the main tailor we had been using – on Le Loi, south of Phan Chu Trinh.
We strolled around, window-shopped and stopped in a café for
coffee, while we waited for small alterations to be made to our clothes. It gradually became night. On our way back to the tailor, we were
walking up Le Loi, past the spot where we parked our bike, when I heard Aman
ask: Dude,
where’s our bike? I stopped and
turned around. Our bike was not where we
parked it earlier. Aman and I stared silently
at each other for a couple of seconds. I
looked over each shoulder, up and down the street. I looked at the empty spot where we had parked our bike. It has
to be around here, I said plainly. Someone is just messing with us. I thought that maybe we parked in a
no-parking zone, and someone had moved it.
There was a cluster of motorbikes on the near corner. We walked over and checked them. Not ours…
There was another cluster of motorbikes on the next corner. We checked those. Not ours…
I think it’s time to get out of
Hoi An, Aman said. I tried to stay
calm.
We decided to split up so that I could make it back to the
tailors for one last fitting before they closed, while Aman canvassed the
streets in search of our bike. When we
met up again twenty minutes later, Aman informed me that he might know where to
find our bike. A woman selling trinkets
in the street was pointing him down a side street and indicating that she knew
the whereabouts of our bike… But she wouldn’t give us any more information
unless we bought some trinkets. We told
her, no way. A little further down the
road, another trinket-selling woman seemed to indicate to us that she knew how
to find our bike. (It’s these little
moments that remind you how useful it would be to be able to communicate in the
local language.) She called for her
son. A quiet little boy emerged from a nearby house. He could not
have been more than 7 or 8 years old, and didn’t speak any English. But he understood the question when Aman
asked what was his name: Sam. We trailed our four-foot-tall guide down the
narrow side street to a dimly lit building where, WHEW, our bike was parked
inside. (Apparently, we violated the
no-parking-south-of-Phan-Chu-Trinh-after-dark-rule, which caused our bike to be
impounded.) Sweet little Sam started
walking away before I could even get some Spacebucks (i.e. local currency) out
to tip him for his service. He shyly
came back and accepted the bill in my outstretched hand.
Aman and I walked our bike in the other direction. We were beyond relieved to have it back:
The next morning – our last day in Hoi An – we woke up in
the pre-dawn hours, having arranged a sunrise tour of a local fishing village,
which was situated at the point where the river meets the sea. The hotel was pitch dark at 4 a.m. as we made
our way out front to meet our van, and not a soul was stirring. When our van arrived, it was empty. Aman and I were happy to learn that we were
the only ones that booked the tour that day and essentially would be having a
private outing. Score.
We drove for about ten minutes before we reached the tiny
village, where we got out and started walking.
Despite, or because of, the extremely early hour, the village was quite
busy. Houses were lit, and people
gathered in the front courtyards drinking tea.
We walked past a loudspeaker blaring overhead in the street, which our
guide explained was a local radio broadcast.
No music, only talk.
Through the village, we reached a small pier where we took a
bamboo fishing basket to a little boat sitting offshore. The boat, in turn, cruised slowly over the
waters. It was a very overcast morning,
and the sky had turned a slate gray by the time we got in the boat. Around us, there were men working the huge
Vietnamese fishing nets, which were interesting to see in action. There were also lots of traditional Vietnamese fishing boats in the water, and men in
smaller boats pulling in collapsible fishing nets. It was very quiet, even with all of the early
morning activity on the water.
We disembarked briefly on the far side of the river to walk
around a bit. There, women worked busily
on shore, tending to the catch that the men brought in. Bikes and bamboo fishing baskets sat idle on
the side of the road. A small ferryboat
was being loaded with people and motorbikes, and miscellaneous cargo. Men sat in a noisy, crowded restaurant drinking tea and coffee, and smoking cigarettes. We walked past simple houses with thatched roofs that would need to be replaced every five years, according to our guide.
To see such a genuine side of everyday Vietnamese life
stirred an amazing feeling in the both of us.
The entire experience was incredible.
After a quick breakfast on the boat (of spring rolls and
shrimp porridge – a traditional Vietnamese fisherman’s breakfast) and a lesson
in how to paddle a bamboo fishing basket (it’s harder than it looks), we were
back in the car and back at the hotel by 8 a.m.
We took one last spin to the Old Town, and then relaxed before our bus
was scheduled to pick us up.
That afternoon, we concluded our open tour of Vietnam by boarding a bus that would drive us five hours north to Hue. We didn't plan to spend any time in Hue, it was simply the
closest town with an airport, and we had plans of catching a quick flight from there to Hanoi.
Overall, we had a really good experience touring southern Vietnam on the open buses. The four different places that we stayed in all had a unique charm, which gave us a good sense for the cultural diversity that exists within Vietnam. And driving from city to village, from mountain to beach allowed us the opportunity to soak in the scenic beauty of the Vietnam, which comes in various shapes and sizes.
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