As we were leaving Tuy Hoa, a wedding was being set up in the lobby of our hotel. The outfits were spectacular and the families’ happiness was palpable (even the mothers).


This village is in the process of being transformed into a city. Adhering to feng shui principles, it’s situated with mountains behind and the oceans ahead. The construction activity is rigorous, and when completed, the buildings are painted in bright pastel colors. I’m sure each of these colors means something, and that the number of floors, windows and doors is also based on the rules.


Continuing to ride north, the typhoon’s impact was apparent everywhere. Mud, torn up roads, downed trees, garbage strewn about. The Vietnamese are incredibly industrious, and everyone pitches in. There are so many little old ladies on bicycles or walking, hauling wood, chickens, building supplies; they work in the rice paddies, on the fishing boats, at the markets, tend live stock, cook, clean, watch babies. They are mostly toothless but if they have teeth, they’re generally stained red from chewing betel nuts or just plain black from rot.

As we ride, we pass fish farms, banana plantations, corn and sugar cane fields and of course, rice paddies; cows on the side of the road in groups of 2 or 3, water buffalos in the paddies with their buddies, the egrets. The farmers spread their rice out along the side of the road to dry, so we’re careful where we ride.

After a 15k uphill climb, we finally reached Quy Nhon for lunch. Even having to pee in a hole couldn’t spoil the relief I felt in topping that hill.