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.

We visited the Thien An pagoda, a fabulous old shrine built in 1670. Among the monuments and statues was a large gold statue of Siddhartha that exuded incredible calm and beauty.


The site includes a monastery and we were treated to a private Buddhist ceremony by one of the monks-in-training. We also spied 4 monks chanting, bonging a brass drum for emphasis (I guess),  joined by an equally pious shepherd mix who was fervently snoozing on the rug behind them. The monks’ sleeping quarters are wooden slabs, some double decked, with one blanket or cover, mosquito netting and not much else. Notably, the prime spot in the dorm, in the cool and dark rear corner, was claimed by the hallowed motor bike.

Our next stop was My Lai. You know the story.


We spent the rest of the day biking (in 95 degree heat) through miles of villages and rice paddies that featured the occasional water buffalo and many hard-working farmers hidden beneath conical hats. Narrow strips of solid land allow walking between the plots and to the villages beyond. Interspersed within and outside villages are an extraordinary number of construction projects, from repairing roofs, roads and stores to building hotels and temples. There are piles of sand, timber and tools everywhere. Also ubiquitous are wires in thick bunches hanging from wooden poles and large communication towers that seem to run the length of the country. And of course, everyone has mobile phones.

The people are amazingly friendly and everyone is quick to say hello. The kids love to practice English, which they all study in school. We hear a lot of “how are you”, “what’s your name”, and “where are you from?” We smile and return the greetings, which elicits their uproarious laughter. I suspect they are mostly laughing at us (we are a bizarre sight, to say the least.) They ride 2-3 to a bicycle, back and forth to school, in white shirts and blue pants. The teen age girls wear long white side-split dresses, long sleeved, over white pants. I guess the point there is pretty clear.

The warmth of the women is truly heartfelt. We met one elderly couple who were very curious about us and anxious to communicate their good will. The woman was deaf, and her few betel nut - red teeth were quite a sight, but she was eager to make friends and share her spirit.

We arrived just before dinner in Hoi An, where the shopping is known to be fabulous. I quickly realized I don’t need no stinkin’ bicycle….CHARGE!

In Hoi An, we went to Little Phoic's tailor shop.  Most of the made-to-measure shops show the same styles and fabrics, and they will make anything you want in less than a day. Somehow the lovely ladies convinced Steven to buy 2 suits ('course, he blames me) and measured him in minutes. He chose 2 lovely light-weight cashmere-wool blends and after 2 fittings and a few lightening fast tweaks, voila! Not one to wait patiently in the wings, I managed to get a few choice little numbers made as well.

The next morning, we biked to My Son along winding country roads through miles of rice paddies. We veered off the main road onto a path that led us past many homes containing cotton looms.


The equipment was 50-60 years old. Homes have 2-4 looms, while larger stand alone rooms had more. It was quite noisy and we assumed these folks suffer hearing problems at a fairly young age. The whole area seems to clatter and hum.


We got sort of lost wending our way through the village alleys. But it was a flat leisurely ride and we eventually returned to a main road.

We visited a fantastic series of Champa ruins that included a palace and many smaller temples. This was clearly a civilization that was obsessed with fertility.

Short ride today, since the BIG hill comes tomorrow.

We returned to Hoi An and wandered around. It’s a charming city, with wonderful old riverfront buildings, shops, cafes and a whole lot of personality.

We started the day driving north through Da Nang, which is the 3rd largest city in Vietnam. The biggest American airbase was here during the war, and it is also one of the leading ports in the country since the Han River is so deep. It’s a hub of massive construction projects, as well. Big fancy apartment buildings and resorts are being built on China beach, and the American influence is very obvious, much more than I noticed in the other cities we’ve visited (Café Lipton). Two of the 5 large ships grounded by the typhoon in mid-October are not yet repaired, and all along the beach, there are tears in the sea wall.

Once through Da Nang, our van dropped us off to begin cycling up Hai Van pass. The distance to the top is 10k with an 8-10% grade. The road is generally well paved though too many stinky diesel trucks loudly honk their way around the hairpin turns. Not a cloud floated by to shield us from the 95 degree heat and shade trees are few and far between.
The guys started out (4 of them) all piss and vinegar, harboring secret competitive ambitions of being the first to make it to the top. I tooled along for a few minutes and in short order, was on the lowest gear.

The views off the mountain are simply spectacular…lush, thick, green forest, mountain streams and small waterfalls on the uphill side; the magnificent sparkling ocean and a long sandy beach below us. As it turned out, “the little engine that could” couldn’t, since I got off the bike at the 7k mark, determined to keep on trucking on foot. Judy pulled over at 8k, and she and I tried to catch our breath in a tiny patch of shade, next to a little shack. Notwithstanding our being puce, dripping wet, and nauseous, 2 women ambushed us with “You buy something? You very pretty. You want massage? Come in here”. Timing is everything, huh? We could barely muster a “no”.

Steven and the 3 other guys made it to the top (though my Happy Buddha was quite red and ragged) and regaled us with their tales of brute force. After recuperating with cold drinks, bananas and cashews, we were rewarded with the downhill side of the Pass. I have to admit being a bit intimidated by the sand and ruts in the road; they’re an annoyance on the climb, but a hazard when I’m going fast. So I wasn’t exactly a speed demon, but the wind helped defray that deep fried feeling I had from the heat on the way up.

We continued to bike for another 50k, past mile after mile of magnificent ornate marble shrines side by side with typical 2 room shacks. Some of the burial monuments cost many $100,000s, but these folks believe that honoring ancestors in this way leads to great wealth and happiness. Not sure how it works since the debt incurred in building these shrines has to be overwhelming.

We rode through numerous fishing and farming villages where we passed ox carts and cows and chickens and kids on bikes and adults on motorbikes carrying everything imaginable. Many people in both urban and rural areas wear face masks, especially women – it’s really dusty, the exhaust fumes are bad, they want to keep their skin as fair as possible.

Every so often, we got a break to catch our breaths. At one such break, needing to pee like a race horse, I asked Little Phuic to request access to the loo at a home/barber shop/pool hall (2 tables). A young man led me along the side of the house to a door that opened onto a small dark room, and pointed to a barely visible hallway off to the left.


Since there was very little light, I picked my way across the room, careful not to trip on a large mound of tubers. Immediately to my right off the hallway was a room that I guessed was my "rest stop" though it was too dark to know exactly what was where. I crouched over what I hope was the hole and was startled by some shuffling and snuffling noises. Sure 'nuff, not 5 feet from me, were 4 indoor pig pens with about 20 lovely white pigs of varying sizes who were grunting, snorting and humping (and listening to me pee).  Afternoon delights all around!

In Hue, off the bikes today. This is the capital city of Vietnam and a UNESCO world heritage site. It’s a relatively sophisticated and peaceful city. The most famous attraction is the Citadel, which was built beginning in 1805 to serve as the home of the Nguyen Dynasty emperors. We walked there from the hotel in highly humid 95+ degree heat. The palace is surrounded by a moat and then similar to those in medieval Europe, protected by an extremely thick brick wall. Inside, there are many acres of gardens and building remains that are in the process of being reincarnated; when completed, they will be extraordinary.

We were so honored to get a surprise audience with one of the royal family, who was very regal but also warm and approachable. He introduced us to 2 of his concubines.

Mid-afternoon we headed to the train station to catch a train that would transport us north about 400 miles. We boarded at 4PM for our 11 hour trip, planning to eat and snooze on the train before heading to a guest house for 5 hours of sleep. How bad could it be, we asked ourselves?





Do the words gross, grimy, smelly, dirty, bug ridden, hot, cramped, airless and skeevy conjure up any kind of picture? Steven named it “hell in a cell”. Rather than belabor the description and memory, suffice it to say that ox cart transport may have been more comfortable. It certainly would have smelled better. We had 3 minutes to disembark at 3:15AM, and arrived at our crash pad in Ninhbinh by about 4:00. Steven and I fought over who got to shower first.

Granted a late start the next morning (9:30), we cycled through Tam Coc and some of the most glorious country I’ve ever seen. Soaring limestone cliffs bordered fish farms and rice paddies. The sky was crystal clear, the sun brutal (as usual), but we were graced with occasional breezes that enhanced our experience of this remarkable beauty. We stopped at the ancient city of Hoa Lu, famous for being one of Vietnam’s ancient capitals. There isn’t much here in the way of ruins, but the capitalist (!) tourism industry is building a major attraction that is sure to be a favored destination of future visitors to Vietnam.

We covered a lot of ground today, biking through enchanted villages that almost seemed medieval in the use of stone and the narrow alleys connecting homes. It was a spectacular ride.

Our next destination was Cuc Phuong National Park, established in 1962 as Vietnam’s first national park. We visited the Endangered Primate Rescue Center, where they rehab mostly monkeys (chronic drinking of rice wine?), many from the commercial market and prepare them to be returned to their natural habitat. We saw several different breeds of Langur, which is an unusual and colorful variety of monkey.


That night we slept under mosquito netting; I’m sure it wasn’t necessary, but when it’s there, you gotta use it. It rained hard in the morning, making the rain forest’s mossy road especially treacherous for bikers. As "designated wuss" (DW), I stayed in the van for the first part of the ride, grateful for the option.


We traveled by van to Haiphong, the largest port in Vietnam. You may remember Nixon ordering the bombing of Haiphong harbor in 1972, or the exodus of hundreds of boat people later in the decade. Now it’s exploding with new construction.

From there, we boarded a private touring boat and spent 3+ lovely hours puttering around Ha Long Bay. The magnificent limestone formations sprinkled throughout the bay (close to 2000 of them) provide an eerily prehistoric aura. We stopped at an island to explore some fabulous natural caves which were lighted beautifully to highlight interesting rock formations and shadows. The boat docked at Cat Ba Island where we mounted our bikes for our last ride.

Somehow this 22k ride seemed easy despite 7k’s of hills. The scenery was lovely and the villages were typically friendly and ragged. The cool air was welcome relief from the extreme heat we’d been riding in for the past 10 days or so. I actually wished we had a longer ride.

After we checked in to our hotel on the island, I decided to treat myself to a post-ride massage. After all, didn’t I deserve it?

Since the hotel salon was being renovated, I hit the streets to find one that looked respectable. After walking the length of the main drag and perusing the options, I chose one that had several friendly women out front. The negotiated price was 60,000 dong, which is less than $4. A lovely young thing dressed in a white mini-skirt and cami led me up a narrow, gray stairway. At the bottom, 2 boys were cleaving a chicken on the floor. When we reached the third floor, she showed me into a small room that was lit by a red florescent bulb and furnished with a queen sized bed. Steven said that should have tipped me off as to where I was. Maybe, but I was too focused on the smoke from the lit cigarette in the ashtray and insisted on changing rooms.


My hostess showed me into another room containing 2 double beds and 1 florescent bulb (not red), and bade me take my clothes off and lie down. There was a bottom sheet on the bed and a grungy looking pillow. Not wanting to seem ungrateful or overly critical, I did as suggested and was graced with a bath towel.


My “masseuse” then produced a percussion symphony on each of my body parts: pinch, pound, karate chop, drum, finger poke, castanets, move on. Oy vey. As soon as there was a break in the action, I bolted upright, grabbed my clothes, thanked her very much, threw some dong her way and escaped with every ounce of energy I had left. Didn’t even stop for chicken!

`On our way to Hanoi, about 40 miles east, we stopped for a visit with Little Phuic’s grandparents. Notwithstanding its proximity to Hanoi, the village they live in is astoundingly archaic. The main house is 3 rooms. Granny and Gramps and their beds, a table and 2 benches, and the ancestor altar are all in the main room. I saw one electrical outlet above the table. There’s a guest bedroom where Little Phuic stays when he’s visiting, and a store room/root cellar. Declarations of war bravery adorn the walls, along with a village proclamation congratulating Granny on her 80th birthday.

A separate building across a small courtyard contains the kitchen and an adjacent “rest room” of some sort (I didn’t want to look). The kitchen has an electric rice cooker (!) and a 2-burner stove top. Behind the kitchen is a series of small rooms/pens for any live stock, chickens etc that happen to be resident. There are a few places where herbs and vegetables are growing. Gramps served us tea while Granny sat on her bed contentedly chewing her betel nut. They were truly gracious, although the bomb crater just beyond their front yard has to be a nagging reminder of “the American War”.

Hanoi is pretty crazy and chaotic, but it’s more westernized than Saigon and the cooler temperatures made it feel more manageable to us. Since we’re practiced street crossers at this point, it was also less intimidating and life-threatening. That said, Steven took a hilarious video of Judy and me clinging to an older lady in order to safely make it across.

We spent the morning trying to see the highlights but like NY, the museums are all closed on Monday. Stumbling around with our heads bobbing in and out of street maps and tour books, we managed to get a sense of the Hoan Kiem Lake District which is the central commercial area, the Old Quarter with its shops spilling over the sidewalks, and the French Quarter, more elegant and residential. We visited a “tube-house” in the Old Quarter. Built in the early 1900’s, these started as market stalls, evolved to store fronts, and then extended many times in the back to accommodate family members’ living rooms, court yards to let in light and air, and store rooms. Taxes were based on store frontage so from the street, these houses look like small single storey structures.


Hoan Kiem Lake is the Central Park of Hanoi. There’s Tai Chi at dawn, vendors selling everything from live chickens to fried dough, lunch rendezvous’, old men playing chess, and lots more that goes on here.

We visited the Temple of the Jade Mound on an island accessible via the red-lacquered Huc Bridge. The temple buildings are from the 1800’s and contain wonderfully ornate altars, with dragons, birds, statues of gods, huge vases, and offerings of all kinds of food, flowers and incense.

My charge for the afternoon was just that – charge up a storm! I didn’t disappoint, and Steven was thrilled because he didn’t come with me. Little Phuic met us for a last dinner and regaled us with tales of his financial woes, in preparation for the laying on of tips. Nonetheless, the food was divine and we gorged ourselves. Steven and I braved the ice risk and indulged in real drinks, a true celebration.

So now, we’ve stuffed everything into our suitcases including a ton of dirty laundry, and are primed to leave in the morning. It’s been an amazing trip – fascinating, fun and just long enough to feel like we’ve truly been away. The rice noodles have left their mark, but cycling along the way provided some damage control and more importantly, intimate exposure to life on the streets of Vietnam.


What a way to go!