Dodging rain, cars and rice dumplings

Roadside graves continued

After our success taking the coastal route into Huê, the choice between the shorter path on highway one and the scenic route along the coast basically made itself. Leaving the city proved remarkably easy, and soon the mysterious imperial tombs sprouted from the roadside with even greater density than we had seen on the ride into the city. Unfortunately the quality of the road deteriorated somewhat, and the Vietnamese drivers were a little more aggressive then they had been, probably because the road was only one and a half lanes wide. During one rest stop, several pairs of ladies selling snacks filled in some important gaps in our Vietnamese cuisine, letting us sample ban ep (thin rice crispy wafers with tomato, garlic or onion slices baked in), delicious fried rice flour balls filled with bean curd, and more fried rice flour balls with sesame seeds. Rain came intermittently after our snack break, but with enough vigor to keep us soaked. Still, we safely made it to the city of Lang Co, with an anticlimactic last fifteen kilometers where we somehow caught zero glimpses of the beach despite being within 200 meters of it. We ended the night at a goat based restaurant, and woke up to the same persistent rain that had plagued us since arriving in Vietnam.

No explanation for why these ducks are pink.

However, hope lay on the horizon! Apparently a "Chinese wind" brings cold air to central Vietnam at a time when Laos and southern Vietnam typically have very pleasant cool dry weather. I'm not certain if this explanation is true or not, but it is said that the mountains surrounding the Hai Van pass ten kilometers to our south block this Chinese wind, forming the metrological distinction between south and central Vietnam. Historically this 500 meter pass divided predominately Cham people in the south from the original Vietnamese to the north, a cultural and linguistic distinction that persists today. For this reason, we were optimistic despite the grey sky blending seamlessly with the grey sea. Riding over the pass, we came across a bedraggled looking Swiss man walking his bike up the moderately graded pass. We slowed to talk to him, but eventually left him in his own melancholy.

No difference between sky and sea

Perhaps not surprisingly, the pass did not seem to deter the effects of the Chinese wind, since rain accompanied us down the pass and into Danang. Famous as one of the initial landing points for US Marines in the Vietnamese War, as well as being a massive army base and administrative center, there was no evidence of the conflict on our brief ride through town. In fact, central Danang struck both of us as seeming like a nice place to live, with the first skyscrapers we've seen in months, clean streets, and miles of white sand beaches. 

He thinks Vietnamese drivers are a little nuts too

I did have a small moving encounter with a motorcycle as we passed through the city. To preface this, Vietnam road rules correlate only loosely with American traffic laws. A more appropriate analogy would be the law of the jungle, where heavier, faster and more aggressive beings take the right of way. Of course, there are plenty of lemmings. Most of the time, the fact that the average Vietnamese driver has substituted their rear view mirrors for other people's horns means that even drivers with no regard for their own or other's safety can be made aware of what is behind them. In my case, a lemming-esque motorcycle intended to merge from a side street onto the major road we were on. Instead of looking towards the traffic he planned on merging with, he simply entered the lane perpendicular to traffic. Perhaps, he was reassured by the low traffic volume. I suppose a truck would have honked at him and he would have turned, slowed or been run over. Instead, I slid left in my lane, assuming he would eventually turn parallel to traffic, but he had only barely started turning when he entered the second lane where we were riding. I think he must have seen me in his periphery because by the time we bumped into each other, I was able to give him a slight headbutt / elbow and continue past him. When he passed me a few seconds later, we didn't even exchange glances. Just another day in the life of a Vietnamese motorcyclist I suppose... Fortunately, cars behave more safely.

Our traffic odyssey concluded with a tailwind driven blaze through heavy rain on a multi lane highway, which would have been relatively orderly except cars would occasionally stop in the right two lanes, while traffic continued at 50mph, slowing only when impatient people from the right lanes bulled into the left lanes at ten miles an hour. As bikes we were mostly immune from these shenanigans, but we were still relieved to arrive in the historical city of Hoi An where cars are prohibited.

Made it, no cars

With the constant rain, we sprung for a slightly nicer spot, anticipating our first day off the bike in ten days. The Sunny Garden homestay fit the bill perfectly, with a comfortable (and dry) room in a house adjacent to the family that ran the place. The mother of the family made great breakfasts of pho and cao lão noodles, for which Hoi An is famous. However, we were not going to confine ourselves to this nice old lady's cooking. After attempting to clean the bikes off, we walked across the short bridge spanning the canal between our island and the Hoi An old city, eating a three course dinner at three separate food stalls. Cao lão, bahn mi, more noodles and banana smoothies.

Typical Hoi An food, Quang mi

Hoi An itself is situated in the delta of Thu Bón river, spreading across several islands. The river is actually tidally influenced and we were surprised to see water levels rise four feet, up to the boardwalk, even without heavy rain. Locals anticipate the city flooding every November or December during the monsoon, and our guesthouse owner proudly showed us how high the water had risen in their hotel, forcing him to move all his guests by boat to the central city several hundred yards from the river. Despite it's world heritage status, this doesn't bode well for the city in an era of rising sea levels.

Hoi An's main draw is it's well preserved historical core, complemented by a variety of cultural displays. Much of the old city is composed of beautiful wooden buildings mixing elements of European and Vietnamese architecture. In many ways it reminded me of New Orleans's French Quarter, with its mix of old buildings, humid sea air and an over abundance of tourists. The city itself plays up it's cultural attractions by mandating that shops display traditional paper lanterns, and by innumerable cultural souvenirs, ranging from street art, to lacquer tea sets, to wall size paintings. I certainly found the commercial aspect to be overwhelming, and ultimately didn't get any souvenirs despite initially being interested in the lacquer work there area is known for.

Fortunately, we found more than a silver lining in the abundance of good food. Often when riding in the countryside, options are fairly limited. Even in medium size towns, "traditional" dishes are often unavailable, since they are reserved for special occasions. It would like arriving in the US wanting an apple pie, but being unable to find it while stopping at a random restaurant. 

Typical breakfast from our homestay

Shrimp in rice flour

Hoi An had traditional food in spades. Our second night there, we went to a more upscale dinner at a restaurant called the Hoianian which I had walked by earlier in the day. The meal started off with mango spring rolls, appropriate since it seems that spring rolls as we know then in the US originated in central Vietnam. This was followed by less traditional but equally delicious salads made with dragon fruit, local greens, passion fruit dressing and mussels harvested from the traps we rode through the last several days. Brooke says this was the most she enjoyed a mussel. Sadly, they had run out of stuffed squid, so I substituted pork stew, while Brooke had a delicious clay pot braised fish. While the upscale restaurants let us eat some uncommon foods, we both enjoyed eating multiple meals throughout the day stopping at the various food stalls, or dropping by the innumerable coffee shops.

The start of our fanciest dinner

After a day and a half of gorging, our legs were recharged and we were ready to leave the coast behind on our return trip to Laos. Impressively, we found enough food related excursions to keep us in town until noon. Brooke and I had wandered town independently the day before, and I found a coffee shop that took their Vietnamese coffee very seriously, so I wanted to bring Brooke to take advantage of the free brewing lesson that came with each cup. Apparently, the grind is slightly coarse, and the flavor is improved by letting the ground beans "bloom" briefly in a small volume of water (92-98C) before adding the remainder of the water. We also split a cappuccino like beverage where egg yolk had been whipped with a small amount of sugar into the foam, creating a very rich topping. In turn Brooke to me to a lady selling sweet black sesame seed pudding out of a cart while we bought bahn mi to eat on the road. As we left town, we passed a house where an old man had sold water colors for decades. Of all the artwork I had seen in the city these relatively simple scenes of daily Hoi An life were the most appealing, so I picked one up, and Brooke picked one out as we tried to leave. The man that had painted them wanted to write on our bikes, so we both left the city with Vietnam 2018 written in white out on our top tubes.

Tiny chairs!

Sesame passing, sweet and tasty

The artist was impressed by my height