Open Writing

Continuing my ride southwards from Hue I was invited by a motorcyclist who came up alongside me to visit his house. Leaving the main surfaced highway I followed him for about two kilometres down a track passing many residences on the way. Eventually we came to a finely built property with a veranda.

A long table covered with a white table cloth was laden with a variety of food. Either side sat a number of males. At the other end of the veranda was the entrance to the house. Around it were clustered women and children. I soon learned that this was a celebration to welcome the arrival of my host's first child. I was introduced to his wife and baby and I gave them US $5. I was invited to sit at the men's table and served a wonderful Vietnamese lunch washed down with some fine wine. Their hospitality was out of this world.

Around 2 pm some of the children, nieces and nephews of my host, were dressed in their uniforms in readiness for school. I was invited to walk up the lane with them and meet their friends as well as visiting the school. There is generally only half day school attendance in Vietnam. I was something of a novelty and all the children were keen for me to photograph them. Regrettably I had to part company. Danang, some 50 Km away was beckoning so I said my goodbyes and started my wheels rolling southwards.

On a high, perhaps it was the wine, I suffered a rear wheel puncture; always a nuisance when you are carrying pannier bags. Fortunately, some of the locals came forward to help. Setting off once again I was startled to discover a major climb blocking what I thought was going to be a 'doddle' of a ride. It took about two hours to reach the summit. I was pretty dehydrated despite drinking three feeding bottles full of juice and taking advantage of spring water which shot skywards on the side of the road making a welcome shower for a sweaty cyclist. I 'bombed' down the descent into Danang but my earlier socialising meant it was after dark when I arrived. I bet I was the only cyclist displaying a red rear light in the whole of Vietnam that night.

Booking into the first hotel I spotted the proprietor said he would take me to the best restaurant in town. True to his word he waited for me outside reception with his motor bike whilst I had a shower. Judging by my ride I don't think he had ever had any lessons on how to safely ride his machine; use of the footpath whenever he couldn't find room on the road; ignoring red light. Needless to say, it was not a particularly enjoyable ride. Hanging on for grim death without a helmet to boot was not my idea of a motorised tour of the city. I did however, live to see another day and, write this book.

Danang is a large city in central Vietnam. It does not have a lot going for it as a tourist location and it has the dubious reputation of being the place where the first American troops landed back in 1965; the prelude to the American War. It is in stark contrast to Hoi An, some 50 Km down the coast. A premier spot although only a modest sized town it conveys an 'avant garde' character, a Chinese heritage and a wonderful beach. It is a 'must' for every visitor to this country. As I rode into town a youth, perhaps 16 years old, said he would guide me to a good hotel. I booked in whilst he waited for me to re-appear and then took me to a restaurant.

I do not resist because his choice of hotel has been sound. I now realise that I have become his 'charge' I buy a lunch for the two of us. In the afternoon Nhak, for that is his name, introduces me to his cousin, perhaps 14 years old, a much quieter lad. We ride down to the beach on our bikes and spend a pleasant couple of hours sitting on deckchairs under a canopy consuming soft drinks. Nhak spends his time entertaining me with his antics and sharp sense of humour. The following morning whilst Nhak and his cousin are at school I take a boat trip on the river in which two women do the rowing. Wire netting is placed on the waters edge, half in the water and half up the sand bank. This is how geese are reared; having a choice of being in or out of the water but without the chance to escape. When they are ready for sale they are taken into Hoi An and offered to the restaurants. The absence of refrigerators ensures that this approach leaves them fresh when they appear on the plates of customers.

I get into conversation with a Vietnamese girl sitting on the riverbank. Speaking in very good English she tells me she is twenty years old. I compliment her on her command of the language and enquire if she had learned it at school. She reveals that she has never attended school and was illiterate in her own language. Being taken aback by such a charming girl so fluent in a foreign language I ask her how she had become so competent. "By speaking to people like you" she replies.

Her twelve years old brother was now teaching her to write in Vietnamese. I had arranged to meet the boys again outside my hotel at 1 pm. After having lunch together I was taken on a conducted cycling tour of historic sites; pagodas; rice fields and villages just outside Hoi An. Such visits without local knowledge would have been impossible. I told them I would be leaving the next morning and invited them to join me for breakfast. They rode for a short distance with me before I had to take my leave of them but not before I had obtained their addresses so I could send them some photographs; a record of the happy time I had spent with them during our brief encounter. Such chance meetings make foreign destinations much more interesting.

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