Mountain biking through the countryside of central Vietnam. No visits to rice paper makers. No stops at farms, bars, cafes, arts centres. Just me and Pascal biking. We took the ferry across to a smaller island:
… and made a 45km circuit through villages, woodland and across rivers. Oh yes, across rivers. On robust constructions such as this:
And the concrete bridge (“It looks OK, but only walk on these two lines – the rest could give way anytime.”) And sometimes we just rode straight through the middle.
I didn’t take many photos, but these give a flavour:
Shouts of “hello!” met us everywhere we went. It actually got kinda wearing towards the end! Everyone, young and old wanted to greet us. It was obviously a lucky day for weddings (dates aren’t chosen arbitrarily, or for logistical reasons, in these parts: the relevant authorities are consulted well in advance and they advise when the luckiest date is. I told you they believe in luck. And superstition). We saw four. Going past one, I was being very British and trying not to look too intrusively… and was met with cries of “Hello! Hello!” They’re friendly folk, especially in the countryside where they don’t see many tourists.
Wildlife was abundant:
- water buffalo
- geese
- a snake (that I almost ran over because it bolted when we came close)
- herons
- lots and lots of dogs (all in very good condition, APU)
- a ma-hoosive butterfly (about the size of a starling – just gutted that they never alight so I can’t get a decent photo)
- and, the piece de resistance, a magnificent kingfisher (it parked right in front of us, startlingly blue; just beautiful)
And then, in the midst of the beautiful countryside we hit a bank. At the top was this:
They can’t extend the existing highway. So they’re building another. And this is a communist country so none of this protesting, and the like. If they say it’s going to be built, you can’t do anything about it. The good of the country comes before the individual. I question who’s deciding what’s “good for the country”, though…
Going was slow in places (ever tried cycling on sand – one step forward, two steps back?), but so glad I did it. Great to be out on the bike, just for the pleasure of it. And there’s another difference. At one point, a lorry passed us and, as he neared, the driver made a sign with his hands and shook his head. “He’s telling us the road doesn’t go anywhere,” explained Pascal (a Frenchman who met his wife-to-be travelling in 1994, married and lived in France for 13 years until fire devastated his business; “if I was going to have to re-build anyway, I decided I’d rather do it in Vietnam”). Apparently, the concept of going for a cycle bike is alien to them:
- cycles are used by poor people, those who can’t afford a motorbike
- bikes are a mode of transport used for work only, so why go when you can lie in a hammock (remember their way of life is much more physical than ours)
- outdoors is to be avoided – it’s hot (which makes the skin brown, and here white is idealised)
Another first-world brain moment.
I arrived back in Hoi An tired, happy and hungry. Oh, and saddlesore. Glad I’ve a day for my bruised sitbones and lady bits to recover before I get on that motorbike.