dalat

Dalat is a nice town set in the central highlands of Vietnam. A perfect place to escape the heat and also take in some dazzling sunsets. This was meant to be a passing through point on my way to Ho Chi Minh City, a quick one night, have a sniff around, leave the next day affair. It matured to four days with good reason. Maybe it was the motorbike I ventured out with everyday, maybe it was the chilled air but likely it was just a place where it was so easy to relax.

The main features in this area are waterfalls (much dependent on the recent rain for effect) and the expansive mountains. It is incredibly pleasing on the eye. I scrambled around on my own 100cc Honda Fabulous for one day and then took on a guide. He was informative and spoke pretty good English. Our bike ride took in a coffee plantation, a silk worm farm (this knocked my socks off!), a mushroom factory (normal mushrooms, ok!), a mango plantation. Add to this loads of waterfalls, where I once drenched myself in sheer excitement at being at the bottom of a waterfalls, it was just great.

I suppose part of the great sight of the waterfalls was guaranteed as between the hours of 2pm and 6pm each day, the sky open would open up with an intense downpour. During those hours I knew to put the bike aside and just wait. Sometimes I would entertain myself with a little sewing! But the real wait was for sunset. A swirl of crazy colours. Magnificient.

na trang

Got to Na Trang at 5am after another long bus journey. At least, the seat was less troublesome this time around. It was amazing to see so many people at the beach at such an ungodly hour. Locals, of course. Exercising, walking, bodding up and down in the sea. So much activity, so early. It gets so hot later in the day that it is the ideal time I suppose. Na Trang is primarily a beach resort and a beautiful one too. Long, unblemished, fine sand and overlooking a number of islands. This was my first beach in five months. Bought some fake umbro swimming trucks and dived in.

My days here were spent lounging about. I joined one tour (the orgainsers are infamous here) in what can best be described as a 'huge p*ss up by or in the sea' but advertised as a tour of the nearby islands. I was careful to finish my swimming before I got too wrecked. But the allure of the floating bar was too much on occasions. The mobile barman, lodged within an inflatable ring, swims around with his bar to the punters swimming about the boat. His bar is just a big piece of polystyrene with beers, spirits and all. The bar-flys (like me) hang off this piece of polystyrene drinking away. When it all gets too much, the drinkers swim back to the boat to recommence drinking on a firmer footing. But I was totally taken with the idea of the swimming barman. It was great especally swimming after him for a beer which is soon deemed redundant by the salty sea water.

Regrettably, this town also attracts a lot of bald, grey headed, port bellied, western men who find certain activities freely available here. It all goes on openly if you watch. There is no attempt to disguise the nature of the relationship between a man of say, 60 and a girl (local) of say, 12. I don't mean graphic, in your face stuff but holding hands, acting like youthful lovers, etc. It's not a pleasant thing to see. In fact, it makes me rage. Soon the beach lost its attraction and I retreated inland away from the perverts.

Of course, I found an Irish bar to ponder these things. Run by a hardline Celtic, republican from Glasgow. He was a sound man and took me around the town showing me the sights. It was just a little unnerving as he was completely p*ssed out of his head at the time. When another road user made a wrong move, he would not hesitate in calling them a 'w*nker" at full volume. Charming. But I was amused to hear of his pubs St Patricks day celebration as he got in to a heap of trouble with the local police. They just couldn't understand why there had been so much comotion. Firstly, he had some bloke dressed as St Patrick complete with cape, mitre and snakes ( I saw the photo's!). the guy was an old Irish roadie with a huge white beard. Then, he exceeded his licensing hours. Then, the police were confused about the bazooka style fireworks, the balacalva's and the military marching. But worse of all, the tricolour was larger in size than the Vietnamese flag. He was summoned before a six member committee, given a dressing down and fined $100. I wish I had been there for my country's national celebration. I was stuck in Hanoi with the electricty blackouts when I could have been at the vanguard with a balacalva and a mock bazooka!