East is west, West is east, you can’t get there from here

  Pushed off just after 8:00 from Hai Phong.  Getting out of the city down the narrow roads jammed with people selling vegetables, meat, fish, flowers, you name it, was interesting. Motor bikes and cars weaving their way through in both directions with horns blaring.  It was an intense scene loaded with about as much local color as you can get. Once out of the crush of humanity, I though I was headed south in the right direction. Wrong!  My intent was to head south west away from the coast.  Instead I deadend at Do Son and had a maddening time figuring my way out. With no internet and a misty rain blocking out the sun, I used my compass.  One deadend ended up repeating itself. Finally at in a small estuary neighborhood where a few newly built upscale houses stood, a couple with WiFi was able to getting me headed in the right direction. Over a narrow levy road boarded by the estuary and rice fields, I wove my way back to where I was supposed to be headed.  Through one town after another and muddy roads from construction I rolled. At one intersection I came across an open front restaurant. Pushing 1:00, the fuel tank needed filling.  A young couple who could actually speak some English cooked me a stir fly with chicken soup; it was the best meal I had had Hanoi. I am not starving by any stretch but the food is far from what I used to.  Forget silverware, chopsticks exclusively with an oddly shaped spoon for decanting food from one large bowl to a smaller one for holding close to your mouth for eating.  I am learning. The young husband, the chef, insisted on having a picture of us both. The people here see me coming and are very friendly, especially the grammar school kids who love to say “hello” with me enthusiastically responding in kind, they love it.
     Back on the road, my ride went through the rice paddies with bikers and motorbikes buzzing by carrying just about everything.  One gruesome scene was that of a pig being held down, squealing horribly as a man killed it.  Not a pleasant scene and no one batted an eye.  At long last I arrive in Vinh Boa, a bustling city with horns blaring and chaotic traffic.  Like yesterday, I pulled over at a coffee cafe to find a place to stay.  The internet had zippo and with the help of the owner, with the help of my translation app, he guided me to about the only hotel in the city.  One woman on motorbike led me to the place after riding back and forth past a jumble of signs.  Modern but a small hotel, the room could have been cleaner but I wasn’t about to try for another place given my trying day of over fifty-five miles (a net gain from Hai Phong of twenty-five miles).  A real adventure through the countryside with the misty rain at first and mud which followed. A large lunch saved me from having to forage for dinner and sleep came fast. A dog, no doubt chained up outside barked all night and the roosters tuned up around 3:00.  Thank god for my air mattress, the mattresses two nights running have been one step above concrete. Onward south with a better idea of what to expect.