I knew something was fishy when a small van pulled up to pick me up in Mui Ne instead of the standard big bus. They said, “oh, big bus very close, 1 hour”, so I jumped in. Two hours later I arrived at the big bus, which was jam packed full of travelers with bags piled high in the last seats and lined in the isles. The bus was extremely slow and bumpy (and everyone in it extremely cranky), and it took us 7 hours to get to Dalat, which was supposedly only 4 hours away.
Once in Dalat, they wouldn’t drop us in the center of town, but instead at a hotel they wanted us to stay at on the outskirts. I started walking. The hotel I was looking for wasn’t in Lonely Planet — it was a suggestion from the Swedish girls I had met before (Lamson Hotel - $4 with free internet, hot water and cable!) – so I wasn’t sure where I was going. I asked some moto bike drivers who said they knew where it was and told me to jump on. I said “no thank you”, that I’d prefer to walk if they’d just point me in the right direction. They then responded that they didn’t know where the hotel was after all. Finally 2 nice moto bike drivers told me where to go (AND caught up with me to put me on the right track after I had made a wrong turn), and I arrived 1.5 hours later at the Lamson. Despite this difficult entry, I found Dalat to be worth the trouble.
Dalat is a city in the mountains, the Central Highlands to be exact, and so was much cooler than the weather I had been experiencing. A very welcome change as I had sweat through 3 shirts in one day in Mui Ne, and was happy to find an excuse to put my new Tents and Trails jacket to good use. Evergreens replaced the palm trees, and rivers twisted through the city. It was a much different landscape than anything I had seen in a while.
My first night, I headed to the market and finally broke down and tried the steamed dumplings I had so feared (traveler’s stomach) since my arrival. They were aMAZing, and cheap to boot! I am now on a steady diet of steamed dumplings.
From there, I went to the Cafe 100 Roofs, designed by the daughter of Ho Chi Minh’s successor, a very accomplished, though unconvetional, architect. The place was a maze of small rooms, winding stairs, low ceilings, and strange carvings. It was very cool. I tried the famous artichoke tea with condensed milk, which was delicious, and then went in search of the ever elusive avacado shake or avacado ice cream unique to this area. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find any as I learned that avacados are out of season, but I did find my old friends Brad and Ville from Cambodia, and later Mui Ne.
The three of us bounced around to a few places, got Brad a mo-hawk cut at a local salon (this was a particularly funny experience, because the two women had never heard of such a thing and thought we were out of our minds - it’s all on video), checked out a seafood cart where we tried various shell fish cooked over a coal flame and seasoned with the strangest combination of ingredients (Brad is a chef, and was very amused by this), and then went dancing at 2 clubs. At the first club, locals gathered to listen to a bizarre mixture of kareoke, traditional vietnamese, and techno while slow dancing to in a ballroom dancing manor with a salsa-esque flair. Everyone was far too serious for us (plus they were serving Coor’s, completely unacceptable), and we took off. The next place we had a bit more fun, and danced until 2am (no Lil’ John unfortunately, for those of you who got the reference in the title…). The walk home was through a dimly lit ghost town with slippery, wet streets. We got lost, carved our names in drying cement, and took a cab home.
The next day, after shedding a happy tear or two that the Dems had taken the House, I took a long 7k walk around Xuan Huong Lake, where I ran into an English student and his girlfriend who were very excited to speak to a native English speaker. I happened upon a sign that had two arrows pointing in different directions, one to the “Flower Gardens” and one to a “Nuclear Reactor”. Though they were equidistant, I chose the Flower Gardens and wandered around a somewhat impressive display of native floral delights and water fountains. Exhausted, I returned to the hotel to book a ticket for the next morning, had a delicious Pho dinner with Dalat’s home-made Strawberry Wine (first sip is a little gross, but I liked it so much by the end that I ordered a second), and headed to bed.
The next day I arrived at another beach paradise, Nha Trang. Yet again, I had heard mixed reports about this tourist destination and was once again perplexed as to why anyone wouldn’t like this place. The beaches are gorgeous with numerous restaurants offering luxurious, pillow laden lounge chairs under thatched bamboo umbrellas along the shore. Islands line the coast and there are numerous boat trips out to see them… something I wouldn’t have missed, except for the still healing knee. I took a trip to another market, then hit up the beach where I stayed until sunset.
That night, I went to the backpacker’s haven, the “Why Not Bar”, where I met 3 wonderful gals, Laura from Australia, Helen from England, and Sandra from Austria who I hung out with for the night. The three of us consumed far too many “buckets” (giant peanut butter jars with enough alcohol to kill a horse) and then went to the Sailing Club on the beach where we danced with a mix of locals and travelers. Laura and I ended up closing the place down while hanging out with an English guy (Adrianne) and a security guard who I had to beat off with a stick while saying that I was married to a big, hulking American man. Laura and Adrianne walked me home at 4am, where I remained until 1pm the next day, tending to my aching head.
Once I emerged, I checked out Louisianne, a swanky restaurant with a pool and beach access, and ate lunch with two Americans while discussing the exciting political outlook at home. I stayed on the beach until sun down, had a delicious dinner of a whole Red Snapper, rice, and veggies, went and read at the Why Not Bar, then checked in early.
The next day, I ran into Helen and Sandra on the beach who very nearly convinced me to stay for another night out so that we could check out the famed “Krazy Kim’s Bar” that gives most of it’s proceeds toward their program educating homeless kids. But alas, I decided to jump on my 7pm 12 hour bus ride to Hoi An, where I quite rightly anticipated blowing my entire budget on hand sewn clothes.
