March 7 - Getting a Taste of Vietnam (but could have managed without the rain)
I woke up a bit worried about the weather, it had rained during the night and it was rather overcast in the morning. I wanted to buy a bottle of water from a vendor, he felt compelled to hand it over as an item made of silk and asked well over a dollar for it, some 25,000 Dongs. Ladies and gentlemen, a delicious Pho costs usually 30,000 Dongs (just over a Euro) in Vietnam, so please do not try to hoax me - a bottle of water is 10,000 Dongs at most. This is something that very rarely happened, them asking for touristy prices - except in some really touristy places, but then I put my bargaining hat on. So I just left without paying, getting water at another vendor for the correct price.
The northern part of the country is home to a large number of ethnic minorities, and the town I was in had a museum explaining their history. Alas, I was rather late in getting late, but stopped to take a picture of some ladies in traditional dresses in front of the museum. It is a mystery as to what they were doing there, as none would speak English.
Museum of ethnic minorities
Just outside town, I reached an intersection with the option of taking either of two roads heading to the same destination, it was an easy choice - I took the shorter one with less traffic. It was a toll road (I think the other one had toll, too, in fact, a lot of the major roads have toll booths, but just for cars, two-wheelers can ride for free).
It was a new road, with a very smooth surface, weaving through some very pretty countryside. The cone-shaped mountains, that I spotted during the landing, were to be seen here.
No complaints about the traffic - or the scenery
Like in so many other places in Vietnam, flooded rice fields, also seen during descent, gave a special flavor to the trip.
Rice Fields Forever (c) Beatles
I stopped for a good lunch at a road-side shed, where I witnessed someone enjoying a smoke, let's call it "Vietnamese Cigar", after his food. It had a funny whistling sound to it. As I am a religious non-smoker, I did not try it.
"Vietnamese Cigar"
Here I met Hahn, who was also having lunch, we chatted for a while, she is an avid hiker and told me the place I was heading to was wonderful. So I was motivated to ride on!
Later, I saw sugar canes being sold at the side of the road, this one I did try, I chewed on it, it was nice and sweet.
Sugar cane being sold en masse
As you can see, there are quite a few sellers next to each other. This is something I would see quite often - a few days later, while riding through another region growing oranges, there would be literally dozens of orange sellers with huge heaps of their fruit; the same goes then for pineapple vendors - I guess they are taking full advantage of the relatively new freedom, prior to 1986, the markets were highly regulated and the private sector got another boost in 2001.
By now, the landscape was no longer flat, it stated getting rather hilly, and the vegetation was lush.
Lush vegetation
So I reached a town called Phu Thong, where I met some youngsters preparing for a traditional dance in folklore dresses.
Folklore dresses of the youngsters
They recommended a hotel, however, I'd have had to back-track some two kilometers, something I really dislike to do, especially if it was after an uphill climb. It was close to 6 pm, when the sun sets and they were trying to explain that there would be no hotels on the road further north and that I should take a rest (thanks to Google Translate). I did not listen to them - I started on a strenuous climb as it was getting darker and darker. A lot of motorbikes passed me, some waving and smiling at me, probably wondering as to where I was heading to. When it got dark, I started asking about accommodation, some signaled to return to Phu Thong (absolutely no way), others indicating something ahead. Well, I did not find anything. Feeling tires, I spotted a huge hill ahead of me, when I decided to call it a day. There was a sort of a construction site, with a dirt road forking off the highway, where I found a suitable sport for a tent.
I pitched my tent in the darkness and with about 120 kilometers behind me, I shut my eyes. I would open them pretty soon again. You see, it started drizzling, then raining, then pouring - and I experienced first-hand what it means when your tent is no longer water-proof. To put it simply, I got soaking wet - me was the lesser issue, but everything else in my tent, my guide books, wallet, clothes - etc, there was about an inch of water around my mat. I was cursing for myself for not having thought about this, but at one point, the rain thankfully did stop and I managed to get some sleep. This is how my first free-camping night in Vietnam ended.