Last day on the trail

 Rolled out of Scotia Arrowhead marina and campground at 10:06.  Easy enough along a paved trail until it ended in Schenectady where I was back on the road using my wits as I wove through town looking for the continuation of the trail.  The compass, gps and paper map finally brought me to the trail.  Trying to meet up with Betsy was an act of futility.   For lack of signs we kept missing each other.  Finally I gave an intersection on a side roads where I parked until she could find me.  After lunch outside of a business that did  NASA missile work, I road the final six miles on a street leading into Albany.  Even the ending point was impossible to find. This included short stretch of path that dead ended onto grass located on a large apartment complex; insult to injury. With a little finesse Betsy and I rendezvoused at a riverside park in downtown.? I disassembled part of my bike and reorganized the packing of her car to accommodate two bikes, all my gear plus her stuff.  We made it work.  We drove south to Schodack State Park where we set up camp before heading back to Albany to have a celebratory dinner at a nice English style pub.
    All in all, the Erie Canal ride was a wonderful ride when on the trail but  poor directions and an incomplete route made for many frustrating moments.  Someday this canal ride will be a breeze for the average bicyclist as well as a money maker for this economically depressed area.

Charming ride over a paved trail

   Leaving the St Johnsville marina and campsite at 9:48 was the beginning of a pleasant ride through the countryside as it followed the canal.  A former rail line cut through stone made up the trail with old mileage markers showing the distance to New York. Betsy went ahead as I clicked off the miles.  Thinking she was well ahead of me, I spotted her unloading her bike much to her surprise. Instead of her riding towards me as planned we rode away from her car for about three miles.  She backtracked to her car and road ahead to lock ten when I spotted her again.  We sat by the lock by a flock of geese watching small pleasure boats and long freight trains pass by.  We bought food the night before which we ate for lunch, which included cheese, sausage, chips, crackers, apples and Gatorade. Out in the sun slightly shadowed by her car, we had a very pleasant mid day break.
     Back on my bicycle again for the next seven miles brought me to a marina campsite in Scotia, a beautiful setting to spend the night.  Betsy drove to find food and beverage for a pre-dinner
cocktails and chill down.  In Amsterdam we found  the ‘Tap Room’ where we dined in moderate style.  Nice town with more going on than we had seen for the past several days.  With trains passing constantly and interstate 90 humming, we sank into a semi restful sleep.

nice ride but still poor signage.

     Sleeping at lock 20, Betsy and I had the place to ourselves.  Shortly after waking up, a tug towing dredging pipe arrived at the lock.  We watched the entire lock process of lowering the tug and barges to the water level below. Huge gears turned, gates swung closed, valves opened and down went the tug. It took all of twenty minutes; then off the vessel went down the canal.  The process was so simple,  thousands of gallons of water moved in so little time, amazing.
    At 10:33, I rode down the trail for a mile before having to exit onto route 5.  Not a lot of traffic but only a four foot shoulder and fast moving vehicles.  I am a veteran of these roads but riders who only bargained for a safe trail, it would be very scary.  After I reconnected with the Trail, Betsy met me on two separate occasions riding her bike towards me and the two of us riding back to her car.  I can see she is determined but starting off slow and easy is the best way to keep her interested. Later she found a nice campsite smack on the canal for only $10 a night.  In trying to get to the marina campsite, I over shot it while riding along the trail because there was no turn off to get me to the other side of the canal.  In all I have probably ridden twenty miles making up for wrong turns. It is maddening, a mile is a long way.
     Once at the site, we threw up the tent, laid out the sleeping bags,  pumped up the mattresses and arranged all our gear.  Betsy has done extensive camping which is a major plus in terms of getting her into long distance cycling. She even went out and round up some IPA beer, cheese and sausage for pre-dinner cocktails.  After I cleaned up we set off to find a locally eatery, no such luck.  Upstate New York is depressed with little in the way of luxury.  A supermarket was are only option after driving ten miles.   We dined in the tent and an hour later cash in our chips for a good nights sleep. Four nights of camp and all is going smoothly.   The trail of a better, more continuous runs on pavement but the directions are appallingly bad.
     

Beautiful riding, Betsy’s first day

  Departed Green Lake State Park at 9:14, Betsy in her car me on my bicycletta.   For over an hour, the trail hugged the old canal. With each mile, there lies the abandon canal silted up with fallen trees everywhere giving a saddened look to past times of glory.  Sections were walled off with concrete with stagnant water layered with green algae.  Someday soon I hope an effort will be made to restorer this important part of our country’s history.  Restore it and the people will come.  All it takes is money!
    Betsy and I rendezvoused in Canastota, fourteen miles down the road.  She found this restaurant, The Toast, where everything was divinely delicious and all homemade.  This place is not to be missed; we ate like gods.  11:05 I rode on to meet up with Betsy in Rome. The plan was for her to park at the end of the canal where it entered Rome and ride towards me for three miles, join up for the ride back to her parked car.  It was not to be.  The city had inadequately labeled the route through the city thus leaving Betsy justifiably confused and intimidated by the traffic. The locals were clueless as to the trail and sent her to the wrong location . With no city riding experience she made the wise decision to stay put and wait for my arrival.  The connecting road through Rome was  tense even for me.  Eventually I found her, frustrated and disappointed that she hadn’t been able to ride with me.  Trial by fire and Murphy’s law all in one.  Gathering our composure we moved onto lock Twenty in Oriskany six miles down the road.  Free camping by the lock in a lush spread  of grass with barely a soul to be seen. Decompressing with drinks and chips in the tent followed by a brisk cold water bottle shower left me both relaxed and invigorated for our dinner out on the town.  Finding a restaurant was a challenge.  Pizza, beer and a lively talk with the seventy-two year old owner who had just opened his sports bar restaurant for business six weeks earlier. He had built the place himself.  Two younger men, the  owner  and the two of us had a fun time discussing health, life and whatever came up.  We kept a lid on the politics given that the area is depressed and predominantly Trump country.  Tomorrow, Betsy and I will straighten out the kinks and get in our first ride together.

A lazy day at the park

  Over night the wind howled over head accompanied by my passing thought that a tree might come crashing down on me.  The skies opened shortly afterwards.  Rain always making for a cozy situation in my tent but challenging to get in and out of without bringing in the water. It is an acquired skill.  Come morning, I hauled myself out of my shelter just enough to clean up and eat a few road rations for breakfast.  Having a day of rest and no central building to hang out in, I settled in again for a few more hours of rack time as I waited for the rain to stop.  Mid morning I rallied and bicycled over to  Fayetteville to have a proper meal at a village cafe. Betsy’s ETA was 12:30 so rather race back to the camp, I had her meet me in Fayetteville.  With bicycle and gear packed in her Prius, she arrived.  We were both so happy to see each other....”love actually”. We luncheoned and headed back to my site at the park; Betsy in her car and me on my bike. With big pickups and RVs surrounding us we stuck out with her Prius, my bicycle and one man tent.  After setting up  her six man tent, our increased structural mass provided our site with  a bit more legitimacy in the eyes of our neighbors. Sitting back in our collapsible chairs, we laid tomorrow’s route and strategy.  After an evening libation, Betsy and I drove to Chittenango and dined Mexican.  The wide sidewalks up and down the main Street  had a yellow brick pathway in the middle in keeping with the Wizard of Oz.  The author, L. Frank Baum, was born and raised in Chittenango.

A good day in Trump country

  With a full moon last night, I slept well but woke several times thinking it was sunrise.  Up at 7:00 and off by 9:10, it took a while to dry the tent after an incredible dew laden night.  It was good to be camping again.  The fresh air all around with no walls to confine me, something very refreshing about it.  Picking up the trail required a little help from a local bicyclist but once on the trail just outside of Weedsport, the route stayed uninterrupted until Syracuse.  The day was a charmer, perfect weather the whole way as I passed sections of the abandon original canal, “Clinton’s ditch”.  One town had a large garden planted in the part of a drained canal bed, a nice touch.   Before tackling my trek through Syracuse, I stopped at a local dairy convenience store for a mid morning breakfast.  Energy bars kept me charged for the first two hours of the ride.  Every so often in my travels I come across upscale local convenience stores; clean, well laid out and much more to offer than the standard convenience store fare.
    Upon reaching Syracuse, the trail end but unlike Rochester and yesterday’s labyrinth, there were street  signs marking the canal route through the city.  A little tricky to reconnect to the actual canal once I reached the eastern boarder of the city.  Green Lakes State Park showed up several more miles down the trail, where I checked in for two nights of camping. A beautiful park with all the modern amenities including a golf course, swimming area, restaurant and a good network of hiking trails. Tomorrow will be a day of rest while I wait for my significant other, Betsy DiQuattro, to meet me.  She will be joining me for part of each days rides.  Being new to long distance cycling, she will be riding only several miles while she builds up her leg muscles and stamina.  This is a first for me.

finding my way along the trail lead to numerous dead ends.

    From the onset, confusion reined.   I would find the canal path only to have it abruptly end.  The signs are no existent when needed.  Route 31 served as the trail off and on all day.  What appeared to be a trail ended in a dead end.  GPS, a paper map and a compass did little to sort out the route. Decrepit bridges were closed to cars but allowed bikes, not a good feeling riding over them. Very poor arrangement. A mid morning break at Muddy waters in Palmyra was a welcome relief.  The  owners helped route me for the next ten miles of trail before another dead end. Time and time again until after forty-four miles I ran into a couple my age who had local knowledge and were going my way.  Canal trails are under construction and won’t be completed until 2021; in the meanwhile route 31 is the trail.  Glenn and Joan Wallis knew the back road routes which followed the abandoned original canal which was overgrown.  Joan had the history of the area down pat so the ride was very nice enjoyable with the exception of a few too many hills  After leaving them I stopped for a much needed refueling, an anchovy and broccoli pizza and two gator aids.  The last few miles tried my patience. Trying to find the Riverforest campground a few miles ride east to Weedsport was an exercise in frustration.  At least six miles of going the wrong direction had me wanting to sign a contract on the google gps programmers.
Once at the campsite, I set up my tent and had a warm shower.  Two IPAs at the campground bar didn’t hurt either.  Another sixty-eight plus miles day was a bit much so I may keep it under fifty tomorrow.

Avoid the big cities, Rochester particularly

Off at 8:17 from Medina, nice Hostel which I had all to myself.   Granted I saved sixty dollars but seventy-two dollars for a hostel bed was a bit much.  Perhaps, if a woman was along for the ride, the cost could be justified given a much higher priced room had the hostel not existed.  There are reasons I travel solo.  Anyways, off I pedaled.  The canal exudes peacefulness,  the small communities I pass have charm themselves. Each village name is posted on the low crossing bridges with federal, state and Erie Canal flags flying.  Passers by are out for some exercise, either walking, running or bicycling, all of which I greet in passing. With two days behind me, I have come across only two long distant riders.  The canal is part of a route designed by Adventure Cycling but since it is September, the riders have probably come and gone.  Given the coming foliage, I can’t think that this route would be filled by bikers
    Four hours down the path I made a pit stop at a convenience store on the outskirts of Rochester.  Once back on the road, I followed canal signs for the city center.  Big mistake, no hostels, nothing of any interest and the locals seemed clueless about the existence of the Erie Canal.  Making the decision to bail out and get back on the trail was the easy part. Finding my out of town was difficult and frustrating.  With the help of my GPS I nudged my way along, double checking with the paper map I had on top of my bar bag.  There were no signs, no anything pointing the way back to the canal.  The city should be promoting this national site, it could be a big money maker just as Route 66 is across the country.  What doesn’t Rochester understand.  Eventually I found an unmarked ramp down to the canal where I rode for another hour.  With well over sixty miles traveled, it was time to park the bike for the night. No hostels, warmshowers, campsites, along with expensive B&Bs had me guessing as to where to stay.  The local bike shop in Fairport gave me directions to a Budget motel three miles down the road.  68.40 miles total for the day and I hope to cover less ground tomorrow. There is a campsite in Weedsport fifty-five miles down the road.  Rain is predicted so the dirt trail could bog me down.  I am tough.

Muddled my way out of Buffalo to the serenity of the Canal and surrounding countryside

    Waking up before sunrise never thrills me but today had special significance, the beginning of another ride.  The return of the rental car was paramount.  Off I drove hoping to return it to a downtown location.  No such luck, to avoid an additional fee up wards to $75, I dropped the car off at the airport and took bus 24 back to town. Breakfast at the hostel followed and after a few quick photos in front of the hostel, I was rolling by 10:14. Keeping the water to my left, I finessed my way through town with only one wrong turn.  The signage was less than adequate but my maps filled in the gaps. City roads mixed in with the canal trail took me north until finally the city hustle faded into the background.  Turning east the Canal straightened out and its beauty came to life.  Shifting from paved paths hugging the canal to numerous connecting secondary roads I made my way east.  My compulsiveness pushed me to complete fifty miles. After encountering several great blue Herons scattered along the canal, I road into Medina.  The last ten miles had my legs talking to me.   After a few phone calls, I came upon a hostel just recently opened.  Seventy-two dollars for a hostel is steep but the rooms are all single bunk beds, new and well designed. Beats paying well over one hundred dollars.  Took in the  town as I headed to and from Fitzgibbon’s for dinner, a nice Irish pub. NAFTA did a number on the Medina with several large corporates packing up and relocating in Mexico.  Such is the case across the country.  Trump saw it and made his pitch to the suffering working class man.  The rest is history.  The town is slowly revitalizing itself.   Nice downtown area with many brick and sandstone buildings. Grand old buildings are still seen boarded up but there are several downtown buildings under renovation.
       Rain is forecast for the next three days along with possible thunderstorms.   The ride could get dicey as I progress eastward.

365 miles along the Erie Canal

As much as the road beckons, I had to launch my Herreshoff this summer and spend time sailing around Fishers Island Sound and the Thames River.  My house is glorious in the summer and is hard to break away, especially from those glorious out door morning showers.  With fall creeping around the bend,  the Erie Canal ride beckoned. With less than expected anxiety, I went through the Pre-trip  shakedown, rented a car and set off for Buffalo 445 miles northwest from New London.  Long ride but I am settled in at a nice hostel near the starting point of the Canal route. First thing I return the rental, have a light breakfast at the hostel and set off down the road. I love it. Let the wheels roll.

Last entry before going stateside

  Didn’t do much today, packed, walked aways to mail some postcards and generally hung out in the hood taking in the scene.  Had breakfast at the cafe by having the street side restaurant diagonally across the intersection bring me a bowl of Pho.  Dan, Faye, Peter and Julio drifted in for coffee as I chopsticked and spooned my way through my rice noodles, beef and spinach stalks. For lunch, I had it in the go from a sidewalk lady scrambling eggs and assortment of meats, stuffing the concoction into a small baguette with hot sausage.  Delicious and all for a buck fifty.  Two naps followed by dinner across town with Peter Doan and one of his site managers.  Another table full of exotic foods.  Peter has seen my work and deals with some wealthy clients who may want my work.  Both of us agreed that the wealthy are demanding and generally a pain in the backside. We will see what comes of it.
     Now, I am off to the airport at 8:30 with my mountain of gear.  Vietnam far surpassed my expectations.  I could have stayed but my other life beckons. But, not for long, other trips are on the horizon.

Re-entry a day away

  After my morning coffee at the corner cafe with Peter, Dan and Faye, I headed off on Hai’s racing machine hoping to ride to the Anthology museum. With my iPhone badly malfunctioning after an involuntary upgrade by Apple, a bike ill suited for anything but racing and a sore right foot, I turned
back and took a Grab taxi instead.  I had to get other people to order me the taxi both coming and going.  My iPhone is just a screwed up mess.....thank you Apple.
     The museum was a display of all the ethnic groups through out Vietnam, their customs, traditional dress and life styles. It was quite interesting to see how diverse Vietnam is. Without a properly functioning iPhone, it was a challenge getting home. After lunch at a neighborhood open restaurant, Dan and I bicycled over to the French Quarter using the hotel loaners. Stopped for lemonade once in the quarter and returned home in the rush hour traffic. The humidity left me a sopping sweaty mess.
      At 6:30, Peter who lives permanently a few buildings down from the cafe invited six of us for dinner.  Great Mexican food (Peter being half Mexican having grown up in California), wine, sangria and Pepperidge farm cookies for dessert. Exactly my age, Peter had a line up of 60’s through 80’s music. It was a lot of fun, verging on being raucous at times.
    Tomorrow I pack my gear for my departure on the 16th.

Hobbling around on an injured foot

    Thank the lord I wasn’t injured while on the road to Saigon.  Dan, Faye and I hung out at the neighborhood coffee cafe and later drifted down the road to find a shop where I could buy something classically Vietnamese.  Walking was a struggle but doable.  Not much to do other than relax.  After an afternoon nap, Hai and I rendezvoused for dinner at one of his favorite out door restaurants. From the hotel and I carefully pedaled his bike as he ran in front of me.  This guy is slight in size but in incredible shape with steel bands for arms and legs. I have never seen a sixty year old as in good shape as this man.  Four other cycling buddies joined us.  Out came the pitchers of beer (which is impossible to get drunk on) and plate upon plate of food.  One dish was beef leg tendon, rubbery but good. We toasted at least twenty times over the cacophony of noise from other Friday night diners.  Low tables and chairs and no westerners to be seen.  We talked about cycling, particularly, the Hanoi to Saigon trip that Hai and two others with take starting early tomorrow morning.  No touring bikes, just their racing machines with an absolute minimum amount of gear stored in a pannier extending out from the seat post.  These guys are tough.
   Hai and I seriously discussed riding from Hanoi to London, perhaps via Singapore. Sounds crazy but I have read about cyclists making this trip.  Check out the site ‘Long Distance Cyclists’.  I am just scratching the surface compared to some of these guys who ride around the world.  This trip would be like no other.  I will be picking up some maps and reading more about how others have done it. The trick is to navigate around the Muslim countries which are in conflict.
       For tomorrow I will see if I can gingerly ride the bike Hai loaned me.

Hanging out in Hanoi

     Rather than reassemble my bike, I unpacked it from the cardboard container (packed for the flight from Saigon to Hanoi) and repacked it into my bicycle traveling case.  With my bike to ride, I used one of the loaners at the hotel.  After coffee with Dan, Faye and David at the local open cafe a stone’s through from the hotel, David Radford (a seaplane Pilot and sailor living in Subic Bay, Phillipines) and I  had lunch at a funky buffet a mile down the road.  He rides a one gear bike with no brakes. Back pressure on the pedals slows the bike down.  Not my first choice for a bike.
      Hai showed up in the afternoon and saw that I could use a better bike to get around the Island on.  We walked over to his place where he brought out one of his racing machines.  On our way back to the hotel as I was pushing the bike, a woman on a motorbike grazed the bike and pushed it into me. The bike’s pedal dug into the top of my right foot.  Within thirty seconds my sandal was full of blood.  Hai found a store around the corner where he bought some gauze, antiseptic and medical tape.  He cleaned my foot up and taped on a gauze bandage.  After having two beers outside of my micro hotel sitting in a sidewalk cafe chair, I rallied Peter upstairs and we had dinner our at a local place nearby.  Peter is from South Africa and teaches English to grammar school Vietnamese kids.  He is gay, funny and fun to hang out with. As the evening progressed my foot has become progressively sorer.  I limped back to my hotel across the street from original digs when I first stayed before my journey.  Given the injury, I am not optimistic about being able to ride around tomorrow.  Two minor accidents caused by two woman motorbikers.  Hai lamented how woman on motorbikes are dangerous.

3:30 is way to early to wake up

  3:30 is a really ugly hour to get up considering I went to bed just before midnight. I dressed in ten minutes and Victor call a Grab car for my ride to the airport.  The flight was two hours and everything arrived in good condition.  A taxi brought to my Hanoi digs. A two hour nap helped revive  me enough to dine out with Dan for dinner at a local vegetarian restaurant. Tomorrow I will assemble
my bike so I can get in a few days of riding around Hanoi.

Surviving Saigon traffic is an art form

   The ride is essentially complete  but I do want to see something of HCM/Saigon.  Compliments of Goggle, I rode several miles in the wrong direction looking for the war museum.  Eventually I arrived at the site and spent a good two hours absorbing the horrors of the Vietnamese-American war.  It was very sobering. I thought about posting some pictures and quotes but passed on it, knowing that it was a subject that has two volatile sides.  Thank you Robert McNamara.  Anyways, the museum was worth seeing despite its grimness.  Related to the war, Peter Doan’s wife’s father was a colonel in the North Vietnamese army.  His job was to plan out an implement the missile defense system protecting Hanoi.  I find it utterly astonishing that Vietnamese seem to have moved on and do not dwell on the subject.  Of course, my generation was essential elinminated.  The   US lost 55,000 troops, the Vietnamese lost 3,000,000 (2,000,000 civilians).  We had 30,000 missing in action, Vietnam had  300,000 missing in action.  If Robert McNamera had leveled with Lyndon Johnson, chances are thousands of lives could have been saved.
        After the museum, I found the huge central post office, mobbed by tourist, and mailed off some postcards.  Back at the bike shop, at Victor’s recommendation, I found a nice upscale cafe a few blocks away and had a smoothie and some lunch.  At the end of the working day, one of Victor’s employees helped me disassemble and crate my bike. He had saved a crate that a new bike had been shipped in.  Topping off the day, Victor’s eighty-one year old mother cooked us another delicious meal. I was given some tips on using chopsticks.  Holding the small rice bowl right up to my lips is legitimate.
        I am packed and ready for my flight to Hanoi. I almost royally screwed up what day I was leaving on.  Thinking my flight was the day after tomorrow, somehow I realized  it was tomorrow instead. Talk about a fire drill when I was just settling in for the evening. Victor kicked into gear and helped me get all the bags packed and weighed.  With the high humidity, my bed time T shirt was drenched. Rise and shine at 3:30 for my 6:30 flight.  A Grab car is getting me to the airport.  Why go to bed.

Twenty-two miles of insane motorbike traffic

   Binh and his family made a fabulous Vietnamese breakfast for me of noodles, spinach and pork soup, ginger tea and mango.  After pictures, hugs, and my many thank yous, Binh lead me out to the main road. For the next twenty-one miles, the motorbike traffic was intense to the point there were thousands of them in front of me and thousands of them behind me with only a few feet between each bike.  The closer I got to Saigon, the more intense it became.  Bikes ride up sidewalks, trucks and cars trying to merge in.  It kept me on my toes.  Finally, off in the distance the city high rises appeared, enshrouded in a yellow haze of smog.  Other than a few wrong turns in the city proper, I arrived at my Warmshowers.org host. Victor came out of his open front bicycle shop and spotted me first.  He set me up on the third floor followed by his eight-one year old mother making a superb lunch for us.
      After hanging out at the shop for the afternoon, due to the heat, I took a Grab ride (same as Uber and Lyft) over to meet Peter, his wife and son for dinner.  The restaurant clientele was loaded with westerners, the most I had seen since being in Vietnam.  Peter’s nine year old son was amazingly good in English. Afterwards we strolled the city center mall where there were no motor vehicles.  The buildings were lit up with colorful lighting designs and fountains sprayed up from the sidewalks.  Apparently, after the subway is complete, motorbikes will be banned from the city.  Good luck with that.  After an-after-dinner smoothie  at a second floor cafe. I took a Grab ride back to Victor’s place.
    With a flight planned for early Friday morning back to Hanoi, I will spend tomorrow and the next checking out the city.

Vietnamese hospitality at is best

    From breakfast into the night, Binh and his family rolled the proverbial red carpet. For all three meals, the family laid the most delicious dishes of food. Since yesterday I have tried four new fruits I have never seen or tasted before.  Jackfruit and Durian are two fruits I can remember the names of.  Binh’s older sister, Thanh, took me by bus up town where we went to a war museum and then to market stretching down a narrow city street.  She pointed out the various Vietnamese delicacies that I would not have had a clue about otherwise.  Of the one I tried, they referred to it as the Vietnamese hamburger.  Two glutenous opaque rice paddies with a pork pate half inch  slice sandwiched in between.  With paper wrapped around it. I was shown how to press the rice sticky substance flat to cover the pork. They joked how it was very filling, which it was as well as being delicious.  After returning  home for a shower, family lunch and  a short nap, Binh drove me on his motorbike over to his school where he worked, Dung Nai Technical University.  There his assistants took me around to the English classes and where I made brief appearances.  Either shyness and/or bad teaching, only a few students could speak English, sort of.  Hot and humid, my shirt was drenched but I continued on meeting and talking with students and administrators for at least two hours.  At the Cantina, I was treated to orange juice and spoke with more students sitting around at the tables.  Binh and I made our way through the barrage of motorbikes and  narrow alley streets back to his house. Another nap followed, whereupon I had another feast.   The brother, Cong, opened up about the problems of Vietnam.  Pollution, resulting cancer, poor educational standards and a government which was more inner focused and less concerned with the people.  His older brother, wife and two children moved to Australia for a better life.  The sister, Thanh, gave me a mask for riding, surprised I wasn’t wearing one for my trip.  Because of the pollution, everyone on motorbikes, particularly the woman, where decorative cloth masks.
   After dinner, Binh, his two sisters and I strolled the neighborhood streets, checking out the church reinactment practice of Christ’s crusification walk to Calvary hill.  We stopped off at a friend’s house for cold yellowing tea which everyone serves.  Their friend is a taylor and his fifteen year old daughter could speak English almost fluently.  She stressed how the school system did a very poor job of teaching English and she had gone online to teach herself.  She wants to study in England someday. On our way back to the house, we stopped off for another fruit delight.  By now my stomach was feeling the effects of too much indulgence.
      Tomorrow I leave these wonderful people and head for Saigon twenty miles away. Thanh, who commutes to a bank in the big city as an I.T. administrator, will meet me in the afternoon for a late lunch.  She gave me a whole list of places to see.

Another extraordinary day

    Woke up real early and shoved off from Vung Tau at 5:24 with barely enough light to see.
 People were up and about riding bikes and exercising. The first 20 miles was a breeze,  straight and flat roads with no traffic. After that with the first town came the never ending city along with the traffic.  Saigon has spread its tentacles out for miles.  Usually the towns and cities come and go, not this time.  No exaggeration, there must be fifty million motorbikes in Vietnam with a population of one hundred million people. There was no time for me to shift into automatic pilot.  I had to be vigilant for the next three hours. With forty miles covered, I took refuge at set back farmers market where I had a huge mango,  an ice tea drink, Vietnamese pancakes and the best milk I have ever tasted.  Back on the road again, the heat ratchet up and I pushed on to Bien Hoa.  Sixty miles on the odometer,  I found a cafe just inside the city where I cooled off for twenty minutes. Next, trying to find Binh’s church, our rendezvous point, turned into another Google GPS cluster F—-.  It had me weaving all over the city.  At the fifth church, I stopped on the verge of losing my mind and called Binh.   (Google needs to get this god damn app off the market.  Apple’s navigation system is equally as bad.  For my next trip, I need to find a navigational system that knows what the hell it is doing.  Thank Jesus that I have a compass and paper map.) With help from the church’s priest, Binh was able find me and lead me back to his house where his family was waiting.  Through very narrow neighborhood streets we weaved. I never would have found his place on my own.  A modest front to his house, sandwiched in amongst many others, opened into fairly sizable store, house, storage area, garden and a completely separate new house in the back.  His parents, five years my junior,  and three of Binh’s siblings where there to greet me. Everyone lives on the premises in one area or another. After feeding me lunch and his sister introducing me to two new fruits, I was shown around the enclosed property.  The father has an operation for turning tamarack root in to powdered spice.  Also, he processes other natural ingredients into a variety of other spices. His youngest daughter uses the front portion of the house as a store to sell the spices along with other exotic items to the surrounding neighborhoods.  If you were not a local, you would have never found this place.  Binh set me up in the new house in the rear, all to myself.  After cleanup and a nap, he took me to his church on his motorbike. With me in the back, he maneuvered around tight alley turns with amazing adeptness. His church is huge and has multiple services to accommodate the thousands of members. Everything was in Vietnamese except for Amen. As the only western in the church, taller than everyone else, I felt I was on display.  Once out of church, we hopped on the bike, picked up some baguettes hot out of the local bakery oven and head for home.  Dinner was ready and I was the special guest. They waited on me as  though I were royalty. Every topic was touch upon: the war, the government system, my bicycle trips, their efforts to speak english, eating dog, abortion, America... and on it went. They want me here for two nights and tomorrow I will visit the university that Binh is the dean of and even sit in on an English class.  What an experience I am in the middle of here in Buen Hoa.

A day of rest by the sea

   Sleeping in is waking up at 6:30, I felt a pang if guilt.  Peter suggested I ride up the coast a bit and check out the waterfront.  With no gear on the bike, I was forty-five pounds lighter riding around town. A lot of Asian tourist with very few westerners about.  Everyone looks at me but I am equally curious.  At 5’10”, the average American male height, I feel  much bigger.  Everyone is smaller, and the mirrors, door security eye, umbrellas and such are several inches lower.  The women are particularly small which makes me feel even taller.   This is the first time I have had to pay attention to umbrella heights at markets and other objects I have always taken for granted.
     After several miles down the coast taking in the maritime traffic on the water side and the hotels and restaurants inland, I refocused on finding a bank and small fruit vendor.  Bank location are a well guarded secret around here but at least the ATM cooperated with me. At the fruit stand, I decided it was time to try out some of the exotic fruits. The woman was helpful by giving me samples of a few of them.  So far, I haven’t come across anything I don’t like and some of the foods over here are bizarre.  Unlike most Americans, I will try anything at least once no matter how strange it may be.  Fried crickets and beetles are actually quite good but remember to pull of their spiney legs before munching on them.  Baby eels have a slippery texture and a creepy look but are tasty.  Nothing is wasted over.  Chickens feet are everywhere and that is only one of the oddities offered at the market.
     Back at the apartment I sampled three new fruits, all of which were good. I haven’t a clue what they are called.  One is from the cactus type plant I saw cultivated.  The fruit is pink with green an pink limbs/swollen leaves growing out all over.  The inside is a white mellon with tiny black seeds throughout.  Tomorrow on the road, I will be trying out a few more fruits.
     After a nap, I read, washed more clothes  and went out for dinner.  Every restaurant that  I go, family’s show up.  Infants to grandparents, everyone is there.  The older kids entertain the younger kids, some of the four and five year olds wander around but everyone is accepting of it. I saw this in Denmark and Japan as well.  There is less mobility over here and the old family values seem to be intact.
       Tomorrow, I am off to Bien Hoa where I will meet up with Binh and his family. This will be my last long ride of the trip.

Good ride but still hot and humid

  I pulled out of Binh Chau at 6:03, a town that I don’t need to visit again.  There are vibrant towns I have visited and towns that were definitely third world with little if any development going on. Finding Peter Doan’s Condominium took awhile.  By the way, Peter is totally Vietnamese, his name given to him as a catholic was Peter.  He is the only Vietnamese person I have met who has a western name legitimately. Anyways, once at his building, across the street from the ocean, Peter, who was in Saigon, called his cleaning girl to let me in.  A nicely laid out efficiency on the fourteenth floor with a balcony and view to die for.  Two nights here is much needed since I have been on the road five straight days.  The television is set up for his son’s videos so I have two books online which I have been reading.  Out in the bay are dozens of ships anchored and moving to and from the docks. Both container and tankers of medium size are spread out for miles. Fishing boats are trawling in between the larger ships.
  Restaurants and luxury hotels line the waterfront.  I tried one restaurant across the street for lunch and another for dinner.  They both had delicious seafood dishes.  A micro convenience store, located strategically across the road, enabled me to stock on juice and bottled water. Given the afternoon heat I treated myself to two popsicles. Ice cream and smoothies are lifesavers given the heat.
     Peter messengered me at the end of the day saying he could not make it down from Saigon because of his business load.  So, tomorrow morning I will ride down the towns long shoreline and his top at  the supermarket and bank along the way.  Everything over here is so different but I am becoming quite accustomed to it.  Looking at everyone as Asians is no longer a factor. On the other hand, everywhere I go, people perk up and either stare at me, smile or say hello with a thumbs up as they motorbike by me or hail me from the side of the road. The older folks rarely react which may be because of the ‘American war’.  An interesting observation is the respect level the young generation bestows upon me. The same treatment in Japan, it is refreshing to see.
     One observation which I failed to comment on yesterday was when I saw a motorbike pass me with a three foot by three foot  cage piled up with dogs. The dogs are beagle size, all mutes and everywhere.  There is no leash law and the dogs are a bit under fed.  Most appear to be pets but none have collars and they are all scratching due to flees. Dogs are no longer eaten over here or at least that is what they want you to believe.  I felt very sad for the dogs in the cage. Pigs, chickens and ducks are what I usually see, being taken to market but dogs are another matter.
     A day of rest tomorrow and then my last major ride to Bien Hoa then a very short one to HCM/Saigon.  It will be a month on the road as if April 7.  What an amazing trip.

Very early start, long but good ride

   Early to bed enabled me to rise at 4:45 and start off from Phan Thiet at 5:44.  It was light enough out though the sun hadn’t risen.  Rush hour was well underway with thousands of motorbikes on the move.  You would have thought I was a late sleeper.  At a local market I had to finesse my way through a mass of humanity.  Once out on Route one, the hoards of motorbikes, cars and trucks were everywhere, horns blaring.  My new hi tech horn has been very useful, helping me ward off the crazies.  It is compact with a bottom right beneath my right brake lever.  It puts our four different rings, all of which catch your attention real fast.
     A good hour into my ride, I finally reach the turn off for the coastal road.  Instantly, the landscaped changed into serene countryside.  The road was less than smooth but the villages I passed through had a nice innocent feel to them. People stared and waved or shouted ‘Hello’.  One village after another with the ocean off in the distance to my left.  After three and a half hours of pedaling with the the heat building I pulled over at a nowhere road side store of sorts.  As I left this morning, the hotel owner gave me a huge peeled grapefruit.  So I bought two strange brand sodas and whittled away at the grapefruit. This place was a real shack isolated on a hillside with very little inventory.  The interior was stripped down with a very modest living arrangement in the back room.  An attractive woman in her fifties ran the place. She seemed totally out of place, along with her iPhone 6.  She pulled up a chair and watched me eat trying to speak to me in Vietnamese.  It was all very odd.  Back on the bike, I began my only climb of the day.  It lasted for about a mile, nothing too strenuous.  Finally after almost sixty miles ridden,  I rolled into Binh Chau.  Although known for its hot springs, the town was fairly much a third world operation or close to it.  I did find a hotel, though nothing special.  Later, I walked into town and had a classic Vietnamese lunch of rice with a mixture of items I pointed out for the woman to load on.  The open front restaurant had the usual low tables, small chairs, chopsticks, dim lighting, hot sauce, tissues as napkins and curious looks from the other patrons. I ate as if I were a local having become very familiar with how things are done.  Drifting around town looking for ice cream brought me back to the cafe I initially stopped at.  Humidity and the late afternoon heat had me sucking down my second smoothie of the day followed by a bowl of ice cream. I earned it.
     Tomorrow morning I have a short ride to the coastal city of Vung Tau where I will be meeting up with Peter Doan, who I met in Nha Trang.  He has a high rise condo that I will be staying at for two nights.

     

Hills for forty miles

 I broke the 6:00 threshold by leaving Phan Ri at 5:58.  Four hours of up one hill as slow as three mph down the other side up to thirty-four mph. I must have climbed twenty hills and by 9:00 I was pouring down the water as the sun was blaring down on me from the east.  Following the shoreline was very picturesque and soil was a mixture of white sand switching over to bright orange dirt.  A nice four lane road with barely a car in sight with a landscaped medium with flowering trees and manicured hedges. As I progressed, the resorts became more frequent and way above my paid grade.  Finding no suitable place to pull over after three hours, I plodded along until reached Phan Thiet.
I stopped at a cafe and had my standard Mango Smoothie while I decompressed in the air conditioning.  Less than a kilometer I found my hotel which I reserved through booking.com.
Like so many of the nice but small hotels, it was down a small side alley.  Very obliging owner who started snapping pictures of me.  Like several other hotels I have stayed at, had a woman been along for the ride, this place would have met her standard.  580,000 Dong is pricy compared to the other places but still under $30.  After cleaning  up and taking a nap, I went down to the small open court yard where the owners sat me down for a delicious Vietnamese lunch.  Since
opening the newly built hotel four months earlier, I was the first American, on a bike no less. After lunch I walked down to the waterfront where the bordering land was being redeveloped with new hotels, house and roads such as I have seen at two other towns along the way.  I parked myself at one of the new hotel outside restaurants and had a brew.  Walking back, I found a vibrant side street outdoor market stretching several hundred feet. There I stocked up with a mango and two oranges. Walking down the side alley to my hotel, I bought some wraps of sorts filled with mini Salmon as the owner explained to me. Delicious items dipped in a tomatoe peanut sauce.
      Tomorrow I follow the coast and the word is the terrain flattens out. Partly cloudly is forecast so I am hoping for a cooler ride.

48 miles before 11:00, beautiful shoreline, oppressive road heat

     6:12 out of Phan Rang, a few modest hills, beautiful shoreline but oppressive road heat after three hours.  A break for food and shade gave me the boost to finish the last ten miles to Phan Ri.  I noticed coral for sale for the first time and the cultivation of the Pitahaya cactus plants.  Subtle changes in the fauna catch my attention as I ride south. And less subtler is the racketeering up of the heat.  No clouds made it imperative that I start early and ride as far as I can in the first five hours.  The time goes by quickly as I am always observing what I pass by.  Villages, landscape changes, shoreline views you, passing motorbikes and honking trucks, bleating goats, cordoned off waterways packed with thousands of ducks destined for the market, large trucks filled with pigs, motorbikes carrying everything imaginable, students piled in motorbikes coming back and forth from school, tractors pulling loads of hay, house construction everywhere, bricks piled up on the roadside, unending family restaurants sunken into their primitive openfront structures, men in groups having coffee, periodic shouts of ‘HELLO’ from people of all ages and so many other countless observations.  The ride is never boring.
     I arrived in Phan Ri and with the help of the cafe employees, I found a hotel feet from the beach. A bit depreciated but the room and bath were clean and the second floor view off the balcony was spectacular.  A brand new supermarket was around the corner where I stocked up on breakfast and road food.  It was another one of those neighborhoods which appeared to have been demolished and under reconstruction. After walking on the beach, wading ankle deep in the water, collecting a few shells, watching a man work the shoreline for small shellswith this hand towed device, I headed down the street for dinner.  One waiter knew enough English to arrange for a veritable feast, Vietnamese style.
    Back at the room, the wind had slowed down but the sound of the surf was still there.
Tomorrow I huge the coast and stay off route one.

Sixty miles by 11:15

   Off at 6:00 on the nose from Nha Trang; other than a few modest hills as the road skirted a mountain, the road was as flat as straight edge.  With no wind and the sun blocked by clouds for a major part of the ride, I rode fifty miles in four hours.  I stopped at a church for lunch for 20 minutes and then finished up the last ten miles.  11:25 I rolled in to Phan Ranh and I had been spared by the heat and mountains.  As I bicycled into town,  I passed a guy scooping ice cream from his bicycle concession stand.  It looked so good that I turned around about half a mile past him and returned hoping to find him.  A girl was there on her motorbike eating one of these delights.  Taking a shucked  coconut, the man cut the top off the nut, scraped the white inner liner off the walls and then heaped on several scoops of coconut ice cream sprinkled with chopped cashews.  Unbelievably delicious, doubly better given my hot sweaty body.  The girl on the motorbike asked me if I wanted another, not speaking a word of English.  She got up as the man was making another for me and paid him. Amazing, one of the many kind acts throughout my trip.
         After a stop at a coffee shop, I found a nice hotel in an area that looked like a completely new neighborhood was being built on land recently leveled of a former neighborhood.  Modern houses and no trash littering the area. On my way back from a bank to get more Dong, I watched some of the house construction going on.   In a few years this neighborhood will be nice upper middle class enclave totally devoid of Vietnamese culture.
     Tomorrow, I am up at five, off at six with seventy-nine kilometers to Phan Ri.

A day to rest and see the sites

    Since I have been getting up before sunrise, sleeping in means waking up at 7:00.  After doing some food shopping, (which I am getting of the hang of given the language barrier and quirky way of doing things) I headed out to see the Thop Ba Ponagar temples.  Four main buildings with working Buddhist alters being used by the numerous Chinese tourist. Shoes had to come off and robes worn to cover bare legs.  Incense burning, the real deal;  it was interesting watching the way the praying was being done. There were some bordering stone pathways and rock fountains to add to the ambiance of the site.  There was a museum building giving before and after restoration pictures and some recreated statues of multi-handed Buddhas on display.  At one point four Chinese woman in their thirties or forties insisted on me being in pictures with them, each separately.  It was very strange but I went along with it. I have noticed the Chinese to be less considerate of others and of one’s personal space.  They would bump into me in passing and just keep going without apologizing.  The Vietnamese are quieter and more considerate.
        Next stop was the large city market building and farm produce vendors outside.  Live chickens to wrist watches to vegetables, meats, you name it. The outside area was s mess with trash layering the narrow road way and the smells didn’t do much for me either.  I rode around the place and went into one section of the building before I decided I would rather be on the waterfront having a beer or two.  I found a expansive beach front restaurant with a patio perfect for enjoying the beach, green water,  surrounding mountains and islands.  A nice breeze kept the temperature very pleasant.  Back at my hotel I took a nap and had dinner at a neighboring outdoor restaurant.
       Tomorrow, I will start off at 6:00 and pray for no hills and plenty of cloud cover. Phan Rang is fifty miles away.  If I pace myself drink volumes of water, I should do ok.

Riding at night is an option

   6:14 and Van Gia was in my rear view mirror.  Only thirty-five miles to Nha Trang.  By 8:30 the heat  and humidity were turning me into sweaty a mess.  Trying to ward off dehydration I kept pouring down the water. A brief stop to wash the salt out of my eyes, I pedaled on.  Mountains on either side of me, I was expecting another mountain pass but somehow the road twisted around them.  Only as came down the last few miles did I hit a mile of climbing.  The road looked flat but it was an optical illusion,  I had to keep downshifting, slowing down to a creep.  Finally Nha Trang can into view with all its shoreline high rises.  Only 10:00 and it felt it was the mid afternoon.  At a cafe, I search and found a hotel in the center of town.  Dan Potter had put me in touch with two of his Vietnamese friends who recommended a Homestay.  Checked it out online and it was way out of my budget. They claimed it was the another site but I wasn’t about to wait to have them (Vimala and Ud) figure it out, given my overheated body and desire to find a place to park myself.  A two night stay will help fortify me for the last stretch to Ho Chi Ming City, 260 miles.
      Cleaned up, washed the clothes, took a nap and headed to the beach waterfront.  Strolled down both directions before stopping at a beach Tiki bar for a beer.  Round eyed westerners were everywhere, particularly the fat Americans, hard to miss. One seat down, a Vietnamese guy (Peter Doan) and I struck up a conversation. He started a interior design business ten years earlier where he designs layouts for large office buildings and hotels. He now employs sixty employees and works with dozens of subcontractors.  I filled him in about my doings in return. Next thing we were in a cab headed out for dinner where we would meet his friends at a Vietnamese fish restaurant.  His meditation/yoga instructor, her husband and twelve year old son joined us.  A very gay friend/follower of the meditation instructor arrived next..  It was interesting to get the gay twenty/five year old’s take on being gay in Vietnam.  The long rectangle table filled with one dish after another, an amazing spread of food. My chopstick practice paid off. Our conversation was lively.  The gay kid, Peter and the mediation instructor’s command of English kept things moving.  Peter had a plane to make back to Saigon so he called a cab and got me back to my hotel and he to the airport. Pictures taken, Facebook connections made and I hope we meet again.
     What a day. Tomorrow I site-see and rest up for my ride to Cam Ranh.  I need to start off earlier to minimize the heat and humidity.

Still fighting the heat and the mountains

    A shorter ride of forty miles changes nothing, the strategy remains the same.  I got an early start at 6:40 from Tuy Hoa. Flat and steady for a good hour before mountains appeared and the road was heading right for them.  Hugging the coast helped but I still had to climb a modest mountain pass.  The heat and humidity were my constant companion. Spectacular views interspersed with islands and house boats out in the distant bays made for a good visuals while I made my way up, down and around following the coast.  A break for lunch at a third world roadside restaurant set me up for the last eight miles to Van Gia.  I drifted through town and decided to visit the shoreline where I thought the hotels would be located. Being a fishing village morphed into small city, the developers have not come to town yet.  Hotels were not readily apparent even online while cooling off at a cafe.  As I was leaving to wander the streets, a waiter (Hein, pronounced Hing) approached me and offered to fill my water bottles.  Returning with water and ice in each of my bottles, I asked if he know of any local hotels.  He pointed to the waterfront.  Five minutes down the road, he suddenly appeared on his motorbike and motioned for me to follow.  Winding through the back side streets, he led me to what was the only decent hotel in the city.  Without much ado, he rode off.  Later that evening I had dinner there and thanked Hein again. He let me take his picture for the record.   Dinner was a feast and I will need the fuel for tomorrow’s ride to Nha Trang forty miles south.  I will rise st 5:00 and try to get off by  6:15.

Long day, hot day

My earliest start ever, 6:25. Just out of Quy Nhon, the hills began and heat and sun bore down.  Following the shoreline was scenic, boat houses spread out along the bays, but I could have done without a few of the hills. Trying to cut down on the miles covered,  I broke away from route one and went straight through a town.  I cut down on the miles but not the time.  A killer hill hit me which had me walking for ten minutes.  Enough of trying to out smart the road configuration.  With thirty-four miles behind me and twenty-four to go, I pulled off: one mango, four cheese sticks, bread, tea vitamin drink and finishing it off with dark chocolate.  What to do with my trash?  Vietnam has no trash receptacles and trash is everywhere so I carry mine until I get to my destination. The country is on the move but trash is everywhere.  I see people cleaning up their storefronts and in front of their houses but that is it.  Not a National priority, I guess.
    Back on the road, 10:13 and the heat was pushing ninety.  Hugging the coast cut down on the monsters hills but not enough for the hills to go away.  I keep hoping.  No shade, blazing heat, climbing over the heat radiating road surface, sweating profusely, pouring down the water, on and on it went. With sixteen miles remaining, I pulled over after a tough grind to the top of a hill to a small store and took a second break for three sodas and a grapefruit. Hydrated as much as possible, I pushed on until I arrived in Tuy Hoa, 58.74 miles. The town is new essentially and not much flavor to it other than the waterfront.  Found a good place, did the usual, bought some road food and dined out at a chain restaurant, the same as the one I went to several days back with the grill built into table and a buffet.  Nha Trang is seventy-two miles and too far for one day, so I will do two short days.

A lazy day mixed with a little site seeing

   Slept in to 6:30 and drifted down stairs and sat around talking to the various westerners and Vietnamese lounging about on the tiny outside patio just off the quiet side street.  While it was still cool enough I rode over to the other side of town and visited the brick towers which date back over a thousand years ago. Two sixty foot brick structures that seem to be large ceremonial chimneys.  Several very steep stairs brought me up into this ten by ten foot room which was open to the sky.  One of these two towers leans slightly, adding to its charm.  The indigenous people (Khmer) who were pushed south by the northern Vietnamese tribes, built several of these towers in this general  area.  UNESCO has designated these structures as world heritage sites and the remaining indigenous  people are active in their preservation. Yesterday,  about twelve miles out of town, I came across another such ornate structure atop a large hill.
      Once back at the hotel, I had lunch and just lounged around.  Went out for dinner and then sought out a sweet dessert across the main plaza/park by the waterfront.  Tomorrow the heat index will be spiking upwards so I will be up early to get my riding in before noon.

From rice and fruit to coconuts and wheat

   As I rode out of Bong Son at 6:34, the sun was shining and the sky was blue.  Less pollution revealing the blue sky for a change.  It could be a hot one.  Mountains to my left and having to climb a few hills had me a little worried but I moved along at over eleven mph all morning.  Craving fruit I kept looking for fruit market stands.  Coconuts everywhere but no fruit. With just over thirty miles ridden, I spotted a tented fruit stand down a side street on the other side.  Fruit in Vietnam is amazing, many varieties I don’t have a clue as to what they are.  Mangos, green oranges and grapes are my preferences.. Pulling up a chair in the shade of the stand, I devoured a bunch of grapes, a mango and an orange.  A tea drink followed  and I was off to finish the last twenty miles to Quy Nhon. All morning, mile after mile all I saw was wheat raked out over the road shoulders. A few individuals had used tarps under the wheat but most of it lay directly on the road.  The chaff was also laid out for what looked like future food for the live stock.  In Vietnam nothing is wasted.  
      As I closed in on Quy Nhon, an older adolescent pulled up by me and started speaking English.  He lived up way a short way and wanted me to come to his house.  With heat rising, I had to keep going.  However, he explained that the area I was riding through was the original capital of Vietnam inhabited by people related to the Cambodians and Laotians.  The Vietnamese pushed down from the north and took over.  Further south there is an area when these people still exist and speak their own language.  The state has television shows in their language in order to help preserve it. As well, this original group of people built various towers of stone, two of which I got a glimpse of in the distance.
        Once in town, I reserved a room at a hotel while decompressing at a cafe with a coconut and straw. And of course, goggle ran me around in circles.  Down a small side street, looking for the ‘Luxury Hotel’, two girls young school girls pointed down the road. Creeping along I came across a hotel with several westerners hanging out at a very inviting patio.  I stopped, looked and one hippieish guy spoke out, “You look like you need a beer.”  Different hotel but this was where I was stopping.  The hotel was completed a month early and was modern and perfectly laid out, credit cards accepted. With my gear stashed in a very nice room, I parked myself on the patio and proceeded to hang out and talk with at least half a dozen people, all in their twenties and early thirties. Often on my trips abroad I meet young adults who have quit there jobs  and hit the road for foreign lands.  One American guy
, former navy enlistee, was running a small restaurant with his Indian girlfriend, cooking on the rooftop. Great food at prices so low it was a crime.  Four days on the road, I deserved two nights at this place. After cleaning up and doing the usual, I walked down to the waterfront where I found a huge beach filled with swimmers and such. Across a large boulevard hotels abounded.  Small mountains on either side of a two mile water front gave the town a nice feel.  And of course, there was a huge park with an enormous gold leafed statue of two leaders of the revolution with a equally huge granite mural back drop. Keep in mind the motorbikes were everywhere with horns beeping.  Set back from the back street were chairs and tables where everyone faced the water drinking fruit drinks from funky fruit drink stands lined up along the sidewalk. The city is a vibrant place.  Walking back to my hotel, I walked the small back streets, taking in all the open front restaurants.  The small chairs and the low tables with people eating and talking away.  Real local flavor that makes Vietnam so interesting.
    Back at the hotel Matt (the expat navy guy from Colorado) and his exotic Indian girl friend cooked me up an Marsala and rice dish, a bit hot but delicious.  Now for a good nights sleep and a tour of the city and ancient towers tomorrow.

Early start, good ride, amazing evening

 A sleep on a rock hard mattress made it tough getting up at 5:30.  Nevertheless, the pedals started turning at 6:40.  I record I believe but anything to beat the heat and humidity.  Fifty-five miles went fairly effortlessly.  Hugging the shore, the road narrowly skirted a series of mountains.  A few short hills but I was spared.  I passed Bông Son thinking the small town I passed could not be the right place. Quickly realizing I was about to head back into countryside with nothing in sight, I spotted a hotel on the outskirts and pulled in.  A 11:50 arrival, 55 miles traveled and the heat had just started to crank up.  Not more than ten minutes after checking in and bring my gear upstairs, a van showed up with ten college student and two faculty members.  Taking the rooms next to mine, we hit off right away.  An invitation to dinner followed, 18:00.  
     With my clean up routine complete and tomorrow’s route determined, I zonked out for and hour. Later, I decided the bike needed a wash, it was layered in dirt and grime.  The guy at the counter gave me the bucket and soup.  Sitting on one of those small plastic chairs with my hand brush in hand, I scrubbed for about an hour. Later, I filled the water bottles and picked up a few tea drinks for the road.  The group of students and I rendezvoused and headed into the small town of Bong Son where we found a restaurant specializing in these Vietnamese pancakes.  Sitting me in the middle, the food and beer began arriving. One of the girls showed how to make the rice wrap with the pancakes and veggies inside.  It looked easy but I made a mess on my first and only attempt. The girl across from me took over and kept making them for me for the entire meal.  We all talked while the students squeezed out a bit of English with the two faculty, Huy and Binh, translating.  It was a scene, pictures flashing, toasting with our beer glasses and on it went for a good hour and a half.  I was seated in the front of the van as we drove back and forth from the restaurant.  A nice little town with a colorfully lighted bridge and other street pole decorative lights added to the character to the place. Back at the hotel we all Facebooked each other and more pictures followed.  As I am learning, they love Americans, as odd as that may sound.  Me being on a bicycle intrigued them even more.  Perhaps someday when the government allows students to do exchange programs, I may see a few of them on my door step.

Rain instead of heat

  5:45  I was up before the alarm played Bolero.  Thinking I was the early bird, I looked out the window about 6:30 and saw kids playing soccer on a a rough field of grass.  Now I have figured out why I see schools letting around mid morning to noon.  They are doing what I am catching onto. Get up around 5:00 and beat the heat and humidity.
    I was on the the road out of Tam Ky at 7:06 with seventy kilometers to Quang Ngai.   An hour into the ride, the sky darkened and the rain and wind arrived.  Nothing serious but enough to put on my hi tech poncho.  Actually, no kidding, it is a made of a very light material with loops for the arms, a strap for the bars, draw straps to tighten up the skirt and hood.  It wasn’t cheap but a lot less than the sleek riding jackets which only turn you into a sweaty mess.  My poncho allows the air to circulate and cuts down on the accumulation of body moisture. Moving right along, I bucked a head wind a light rain for two hours. A short stop for some noodle and beef soup gave me the mid morning boost to finish the ride to Quang Ngai.  In the center of town, sipping down mango tea I found a nice hotel a short ride around the corner. An Englishman happened in and we talked a while.  The My Lai massacre site is s short ride which he thought I should see. There is a museum there commemorating the event. I passed, not needing to relive what was a very dark day in our military involvement in Vietnam.
      The hotel fit the bill despite the four floor walk up to my room.  The owner sat me down with her family and feed me watermelon, nice friendly way of starting things off. The usual clean up followed, i.e, washing clothes in the sink, mapping out tomorrow’s ride and finally a nap. Out the door to check out the town brought me to an a large four story building housing a shopping mall.  Second one I have seen, not the usual sprawl we are accustomed to seeing.  City land is tight and so the buildings go up and not out.  Bought some road food at the supermarket and then spotted a restaurant. An amazing experience, a Vietnamese style Benihana arrangement with a grill set into the middle of the table.  A wattress helped me through the whole process. First the buffet table filled with Vietnamese food, followed by the delivery of a three layer rack of different meats thinly cut.  Twice, wattresses came by to replace the grilling grate.  Two beers, a kiwi ice smoothie followed by a self service soft ice cream finished off the meal. The wattress offered me a fork but I stuck with the chopsticks. I loved the scene, it was so much fun. This shopping plaza was alive with everyone with the accompanying cacophony of noise.  The play areas for the teens on down out did anything I have ever seen at home.  You have to experience this place first hand to appreciate the energy packed into this building.
     Tomorrow, I rise at 5:30 to get off before seven.

Flat but hot and humid

 7:15 I was peddling out of Da Nang east then south to China Beach.  Wayne Carlson,  a Vietnam veteran, asked me to bring him some sand from this beach. Wayne psssed away a two months ago but I am still bring him the sand  as I did with Omaha beach in France.  Along the way, I passed numerous luxury resorts on both sides of the road, mostly gated.  A lot of money flowing into these resorts which is bring big money from all over the world.  What is odd is how cut off these places are from the Vietnamese culture and people. These resorts could be anywhere, it would make no difference which country.
       A short break after three hours by an upscale amusement park fueled me up for the second half of the ride.  Mile after mile of beach scrub landscape without a person or building in site. I was staring down the vanishing line for over two hours.  The road was modern and wide with evidence of construction for another two lanes. The plans are big for this area.  It was nice to arrive in Tam ky after forty-six miles of heat and humidity.  My first hotel, found online, was below my standard so I found another hotel just down the road which worked though twice the price, twenty-two dollars. The road leading to hotel tripled in width where it appeared there was a military installation.  The guards at the main gate shouldering machine guns was a clue.  Probably a military parade review area.  The city isn’t that big but there is some military significance to it.  The progress south continues but I need to get off earlier to minimize the exposure to the heat and humidity. Breakfast is served starting at 5:30.

Hooked up my USB port for recharging

     Up at 7:00 and on the back of a motorbike at 8:00. Huy’s (We) grandfather has a slick carbon fiber racing  bike and one awesome electronic horn mounted on it. I wanted one. He drove me over to the bike shop to buy one. Ballistic sound that you won’t ignore.  More importantly, riding on the back of a motorbike in Vietnamese traffic is one of those life altering experiences.  Weaving through intersections jammed with traffic going in all directions.  When to yield and not to yield, it is instinctual with these drivers.  Made it back alive, hooked up the horn and rode to the supermarket to stock up on road food.  If you are looking for the oranges, they are green.
      With one day to scope out Da Nang, I rode to the waterfront and saw the dragon bridge and another modern suspension bridge which was a real marvel. Wandered from side street to side street, taking in all the shops, restaurants and people, a mixture of old and new worlds.  Everyone sits on these plastic chairs half the size of ours.  Ended up a modern coffee shop on the waterfront and chilled for an hour with two peach ice tea lattes.  Later at my back alley pocket hotel, I blacked out for an hour or so before experiencing another motorbike ride to buy a new headset. Huy drove, I leaned with the curves.  He translated and I bought.  With everything taken care of, I walked
a local seafood restaurant recommended by Huy.  Shrimp four inches long sautéed in garlic and butter.  Try shelling and eating them with chopsticks. The rice/veggies and two beers was perfect with the monster garlic shrimp. Back at the hotel, I met more of Huy’s family, friended him on Facebook, took pictures and learned more about how his father and aunt had used their land to build a new hotel. Central to town and only 250,000 Dong, brand new building, a real find.  Several people are spending up to six months there? $300/month, I could do this!  Tomorrow I am heading south on flat terrain.

The climb from Hell

 Right on schedule, 6:45, I left Hue.  Rush hour starts early, shear madness as a million motorbikes weaved around each other, going left, going right, I held my ground on the shoulder.  The pollution was one large yellow haze.  How fast can I get out of here.  Four hours later and two tunnels I turned off for the mountain bypass. The longest tunnel in Southeast Asia forbids bicycled. Just over forty-five miles ridden, it was pushing one hundred degrees with an accompanying high humidity. Running on empty, I pulled over after about two miles. A Vietnamese couple on a motorbike going down hill pulled over next to me.  After a good time with them and some lunch, I started to climb again. The energy wasn’t there and I had a long way to climb. Pushing the bike for a while, I pulled over to eat another orange and down some honey.  No question, I was bonking and need to wait for the honey, orange and a liter water to kick in.  It didn’t.  Pushing, pedaling and pulling over and over again.  The temperature and humidity were beating me up.  My legs were shaky but I had to make it to the top. Finally, I saw the concession stands and tour buses.  A person at the first stand beckoned me over. I saw the ice cream freezer and pulled out two mango popsicles. A guy working there helped me park my bike.  I sat down in an exhausted daze.  The third popsicle brought me to life.  I have never sweated so much; I was drenched.  The ride had to continue to reach Da Dang.  Down the other side of the mountain was exhilarating.  With over fifty miles on the odometer, I felt like stopping at the first hotel I came across. Off in the distance as I parallel the beach and water, I saw a skyline of high rises appear.  Modern impressive architecture kept me moving. Finding s coffee shop was next where I could find a hotel. After a dish of coconut ice cream, I dialed in the hotel location and as usual the GPS was beyond aggravation.  Google should be broken up. Maybe some tough competition will force them to come up with an app that works.
    After slowly zeroing on the hotel, I found it down an alley.  Hidden away, 250,000 Dong, $12.50, a great find. Given the 62.50 miles and one of the most miserable climbs I have ever made, I have decided to stay two nights. A big town, a lot going on and I plan on seeing some of it.

Hue is a vibrant city not to be missed

  A day off isn’t really a day off.  Arrived at the Citadel around
7:30.  My god is this historic palace huge.  The American war devastated it but
the Vietnamese and the world heritage foundation has brought much of it back to its former glory though much remains to be done. It’s origins go back to 1802.  I drifted from building to building within this huge fortress wall.   Despite the heat and humidity I spent over three hours absorbing more than I could even hope to retain.  Even finding my way out of the place took about thirty minutes.  Once outside, I realized my bike was about kilometer away. A bicycle rickshaw guy insisted on taking me for a “free” ride but upon my arrival, his tune changed.  White North American tourists are targets.  I laughed at the guy when he wanted 500,000 Dong. Almost walking off and telling him to kiss my gritty, we settled on 100,000, still a rip-off.
     Next stop, an ATM for more Dong.  The transaction was declined several times. Terrific! A little concerned, I resorted to getting help from a bank.  Vietcombank worked things out.  Vietnam just hasn’t embraced the credit card yet. And, I won’t forget my debit card.
     I met a French guy having lunch across the ally from my hotel.  We agreed to meet for dinner. In the interim, I found my way over to a shopping area, bought a Vietnamese flag and three red T shirts with a large yellow star on the front, the national flag. Returning hot and sweaty, I packed for my ride to Da Nang. An early morning start was essential given the heat and humidity.  Later as scheduled Bertrand, his young Vietnamese woman friend (a nurse) and  I went to a local restaurant of her choosing.  My chopstick skills aren’t as good I thought.  After she left for work, Bertrand and I went down to the waterfront.  You would never think this was a developing country.  The place was vibrant and upscale, an amazing place. We hoofed back to the hotel and had a nightcap beer. Now for the  5:45 am alarm.

Forty-four miles to Hue, 95 degrees by 10:00

 The flight home has been pushed back to April 16. Now the pressure is off and I can make my way down to Saigon without feeling the pressure of a deadline.  Forty-four miles in four hours with the heat was ninety-three degrees by 10:00.  As a rode into town, I began seeing an ancient wall down each small alley.  Turning towards the center of town, this huge ancient wall parallel me for at least a kilometer. Crossing a bridge into the center of Hue brought me into city’s hustle and bustle. Stopping at coffee shop, I surfed the web and found an affordable hotel around the corner. A young Canadian couple sitting next me said they were getting a deal at a hotel for sixty dollars a day.  I hated to burst their bubble saying I was paying twelve to thirteen dollar a day.  Praise Dan Potter for having brought me to the water. Had I gone the uninformed route, I might have suffered the same fate ss dd this couple and so many others. My tolerance to rough it out is in part due to my adventuresome natural and not having a female companion to rein me in.  There are benefit to being single.
       After settling in, doing some laundry in the sink, I ventured into town for a look see. A few beers, sautéed shrimp and fried rice at corner restaurant in the epicenter of traffic chaos finished off the day. Tomorrow starts early so I can beat the hoards and heat to the citadel and other city sites.
   

A hot tough day on the road

  Nothing unusual about my exit from Dong Hoi headed south.  The sun came out about ten miles down the road without a cloud in the sky.  No blue above on account of the pollution, really weird. The road became rolling hills through the dunes of the shoreline, almost desert like.  Time to put on the sunscreen and head sweat band; the salty sweat was already stinging my eyes.  The road kept rolling along without a soul  around; even the traffic was sparse. The temperature continued to rise and there was no shade anywhere.  Mile after mile in ninety-five degree heat, pouring down the water, I finally came upon a large lake captured on by the sand dunes.  Two lake side hotels tempted me but my compulsive goal orient self forbids from stopping for the day, only thirty miles on the odometer. With the temperature taking its toll and the sweat pouring off me, I found a convenience store, Vietnamese style.  After putting down two juice, four small yogurts and some chocolate cookies, I braved the heat.  Prior to leaving four eleven year old  boys stopped out of curiosity. For twenty miles one tried his English out on me, referring to his school notes, a fun time.
Out into the heat, mile after mile, a mild headwind picked up and I was becoming more uncomfortable by the mile.  Fifty miles was my minimum distance but when would that mile arrive?  Over a hill a small city appeared and perhaps a hotel. I passed two dives despite my misery, later to learn that the hotels required another ten kilometers of pedaling.  Finally, Dong Ha arrived.   I stopped at the first respectable hotel (nhe nigh). Caged birds everywhere as the owner met at open hotel front.   There is a god, fifty-seven miles felt like ninety.  Scrubbed the riding clothes in the sink, drank a few juices out of the room refrigerator, showered in luke warm water (I didn’t care), took a nap and headed out for dinner. The owner know exactly what I was looking for she I decended the stairs and directed me across a crazy main boulevard to local restaurant. This ten year old boy, at the restaurant, at the request of his grandmother asked what I wanted in pretty good English and served it up in ten minutes, smart kid.
      Tomorrow, I am on the road early even though it is only a forty-two mile down to Hue. Then for a day off, 660 miles to go to reach HCM/Saigon.

Good day, easy day.

  Ky Anh to Dong Hoi, 59 miles. Actually I saw the surf as Route1 paralleled the water.  I rolled into town which at first appeared a nothing place which turned out  to be huge place.  So many times I bicycle into the outskirts of a town and think I am in a nowhere place where there are no hotels. With the exception of one town which only had one hotel, ever other place has had plenty.  Getting directions from an intelligent guy led me to the train station where a hotel was adjacent to it.  My fifth floor corner room gave me an excellent view of the city.  In the distance, I could see the high price spread resort hotels. I will stay with the $15 accommodation.  And for the first time,  I saw some white folks like myself backpacking out of the train station.  And I got hustled by two Vietnamese woman.  Hey, the GIs left forty-six years ago.  Well anyways meeting anyone bicycling in road, other than the Belgian I hung with for all of ten minutes prior to my flat, has eluded me.  The millennials take buses and trains and everyone else is on some tour of some sort.  Neither group will never really see the country.  Am I the only one out here with real adventure in my blood? So much for the American pioneer spirit.
     Mileage signs have start showing up saying it is 1250K HCM, that is about seven hundred and fifty miles to Ho Chi Ming/Saigon.  Given that I have about fifteen days to cover this turf, I need to push back my flight about one week. Life is brief, the added expense is worth it.  Same thing  happened when I circling Ireland and there was no regret. Life in New London can wait.

Fifty-seven miles, a super market and fast food

  Out of Duc Tho with no regrets, I put on twenty-four miles before pulling off in an upscale town for refueling which included yogurt, juice and chocolate wafers. With s mango and canned ham for the road, I moved on.  Riding fifty-seven miles on route 1 was a pleasure for once.  A few hundred miles south, the madness of traffic has tapered off to a very sane level.  Arriving in Ky Anh, I found a hotel right off, cleaned up and set out for chow. Out the door, I spotted a modern store across the main boulevard.  Once across the street, I made a rare find, a supermarket which included a McDonalds of sorts. I was in heaven with shopping card searching out cheese, French bread, yogart, honey....absolutely wonderful.and I could pay with a credit card, no less.
Customers curious about me spoke to me in English. I had disovered an upscale Vietnamese clientele. Shamelessly, I indulged in fast food  of a fish sandwich, fries and an orange soda.....delightful!  Back at the room, I went further having a yogart, cheese and bread.  After taking in a Batman movie and writing two posting, it was lights outs.

So I thought I was a rock star

   Usual drill, putting everything in the appropriate pannier, double check the room, attach everything to the bike, dial up the new route and pedal off toward my next destination.  Nine o’clock came and Do Lu Ong was a thing of the past.  A misty day, I rode along cranking off the Kilometers. Coming up to a large memorial of some sort, I saw a long line a students crossing the street to this memorial. Curious about what it was all about, I pedaled up a granite ramp and rode towards these large granite depictions of war hero’s marching innto battle with arms at the ready very typical of Soviet architecture. No sooner had I scanned the memorial than the student spotted me.  They converged on me like I was Mike Jagger.  Total surrounded me, they were excitedly talking in Vietnamese. A girl and boy started speaking English to me while the others wanted to shake my hand.   Questions and answers by the dozen followed.  My age surprised them, saying that their fathers were much young and could do what I was doing.  I encourage them not smoke, ride their bicycles not their motorbikes, work hard in school and come to America. Everyone wanted to be in a picture with me.  It was a scene like no other.  As I left they were waving and shouting good bye.  What an experience that I will never forget.
     Moving on with the goal of  my reaching Duc Tho, the sky opened up into a nasty misty rain. Duc Tho seemed elusive and I was wet and tired.  A nothing town eventually came into site where I prayed there was a hotel.  With the usual ride up and down the street trying to decipher the Vietnamese directions, I finally found hotel down a dirt drive way in back the Main Street mom and pop third world  stores.  It faced rice paddies but for all its newness, the room was stark, stone mattress and one bare light bulb to light the room. Not in a position to be fussy, I sucked it up.  However, nothing like a hot shower to bring me back to life.  After searching out a meal of noodle soup filled with whatever,  I called it a night.  Another day to chock up to adventure.
     

A good day in the countryside

    My feet clicked into the  pedals at 8:45 out of Thai Hoa.  My requirements for a hotel is it be clean and have a hot shower. Last night’s hotel was the best of the bunch. The Madame who ran the place kept it up to snuff.  The bathrooms are the deciding factor for me. Adding to the stay, the Madame was very attentive, bowl and silverware when I needed them and a gift of two oranges.  Her patronizing manorism and long dress suggested something than what she was.  Of course, I presumed innocence.
     The ride to Do Lu Ong was one of my best rides, a few climbs  but the countryside was what I had envisioned Vietnam to be.  Rice fields everywhere with mountains in the periphery and interesting topography interspersed amongst the rice paddies.  Cattle in the road, one pulling a cart with an ancient woman aboard and the farming women wearing the classic Asian shallow-pointed reed hats.
       As I arrived Do Lu Ong, it was in full swing, chaotic traffic and blaring horns. The town is a blend of classic small open front stores and modern storied huilding with interesting designs.  My hotel was in the latter with a great view of the town center intersection.  My room abutted a third store patio with a stone lava fountain.  The room did the job but the mattress is equivalent to a marble slab.  My inflatable mattress has developed a slow leak somewhere. making it less than effective.
      Finding a suitable eatery is always the challenge. Few are inviting and the food is filling but not what I would order at home.  Chopsticks, the small plastic chairs, low tables and harsh lighting addto that third world ambiance. Fortunately, I found a Korean restaurant for lunch where shoes  come off at the door and you sat on a floor cushion.  The food was excellent.  For dinner it was across the street to a typical mom and pop place with very basic low tables, plastic chairs and third world worn down look.  The food was good but more importantly I met a guy who was a combination police and fireman. His English was decent and we had a good talk about both our cultures. He would like to visit the US but can’t afford it. After exchanging emails and declining a passenger ride in his motorbike, I hoofed back to my room for a margin sleep on my concrete mattress.  Tomorrow I head south to Duc Tho.

Easy ride, nice day

 Rolled out of Yen Cat at. 9:30 leaving my negative four start hotel in my rear view mirror.  Traveling south on the Ho Chi Ming Route 15 did have the large hills I expected, at least no walkers, (pushing my bike up a hill).  One observation along the way, Vietnam is not lacking for kids,  They are everywhere. In fact, the whole population is young; very few old people.  One other interesting observation, for two days in a row, I have come across groups of prisons in green and white striped suits, escorted by two guards, one with a rifle slung over his shoulder.  One group was building a concrete block wall, the other was doing road work. Being as discreet as possible, I took a few pictures.  As a rolled by I cheerfully said hello to the guards and prisoners. All of them were very enthusiastic in return. I haven’t seem a prisoner work detail since I was eleven down in Atlanta.  Cuba and Vietnam should use them to pick all the litter and trash. It is everywhere.  Some places are fairly well cleaned up but that is the acception.  Where local farmers plant their gardens inches away from the road, the trash
is picked up. Out in the countryside it isn’t such a problem. In fact, when I was watching a Vietnamese television talk show, I decipher the topic; it was about the litter problem.
    Near the end of my ride, I passed a grammar school which was letting out. As usual, the kids enjoyed saying hello.   However, for two days running, one boy each day, about ten years old, hailed me to stop, then rode after me on their bikes. I was amazed at their tenacity. On one speed bikes, they climbed hills that I needed my granny gear to crest. Today, I motioned for the kid (Ho) to catch up as I slowed up a bit.  He repeated several times, “ I don’t speak English” but seemed interested in learning. After the basics of learning his name and age, I pointed at things and give him tmy name name and age. He repeated after me The words I had for various objects we passed and I enthusiastically praised him. He caught on quickly and we were both really into it. It was fun. Finally I stopped him for a picture. Another mile down the road, a motorbike pulled up and s teenager indicated to me that he was Ho’s brother.  It was apparent he was in trouble for not coming home on time. I rode on leaving Ho behind. He will probably never forget riding with the American on the fancy bike, learning English.  It was nice experience which I won’t forget either. A mile further down the road I arrived at Thai Hoa.  A group of young guys gathered around a road side table gave me directions to a nice hotel in the center of town. Unlike yesterday’s hotel,  this place was well kept.  A Madame-ish woman greeted me and show me the room. Last night was $15, tonight $12.50 (250.000 Dong).  On her recommendation, I had a late lunch a few storefronts down. Later I walked down the wide bussling street to see what was happening.  Motorbike stores everywhere and a collection other small stores selling anything from iPhones to clothing. After having an expresso at a cafe, then  buying more fruit and indulging myself  with a pastry, I  headed back.  Dinner followed several hours later.  This time at a place down a side alley hehind the main drag.  What a struggle it is trying to order something that is familiar. At least back at the hotel, the Madame was very helpful and seemed to catch on to whatever I needed.  She even bestowed upon me two oranges.  Tomorrow it is forty-two miles due south to Do lu ong.
   

Hills but very light traffic

  I left Thành Hoa and headed west and within a few miles the traffic began to thin out. The drivers pass each other with abandon.  Twice, I had to pull off onto the dirt to allow oncoming buses room to pass.  Only a thirty-five mile ride to the Ho Chi Ming Road.  About halfway there the topography became very scenic and the hills steeper.  No one is a fan of hills but my bike is geared for them.  Anything but the traffic of route 1. There were uniformed school children along the way alway enthusiastically call out HELLO.  In general people spot me and cheerfully greet me.  Others look at me with curiously stare.
      Only one hill I had to dismount but it was worth it.  Picture time for beautiful hills and mountains to black long horned cattle being sheparded down the road by a woman wearing the pointed cane hat, very Asian. Anyways, I arrived at the Hi Chi Ming Road thinking I had arrive at Yen Cat. There was absolutely nothing there but a small open market.  For a good ten minutes I thought I was up a creek and would need to bike another thirty miles. With my transaction app, finally I figured out that I needed to ride on the HCM road a few miles south.  Praise the lord!  I had this happen to me in Idaho where I ended up climbing twomore mountains to get a place where I could stay for the night.  It was not fun. Anyways, the town was wall to wall little shops with a few modern upscale buildings selling motorbikes and other first world items. After slowly cruising down the main drag, my attention shifted to finding a place for the night. I saw a huge sign for a hotel ride into town but couldn’t find it to save myself. Asking for help was an act of futility.  A few places were pointed out to me but ones I check out were a class A dumps. So where was the hotel advertised on the road? After traveling several miles in the wrong direction, a guy at one of the dump motels used his translation app and got me going in the right direction.  Upon arrival to what I thought would a decent place turned out to be a nice place thirty years ago.  No time to be choosy, I picked the best room. With some investment this place could be a three star hotel. Fancy lobby, high ceilings, well designed entrance with a artistic fountain with a restaurant (closed) and a large outdoor tiki bar; the elements are in place but the investors have yet to arrive.
     Had anyone spoke English, finding this place would have been a cake walk.  Seeing a bunch of grammar school kids I asked if anyone spoke English.  They hadn’t a clue as to what I was saying.  With a large portion of the world using English as an international language, particularly the developed countries, you would think Vietnam would get on the band wagon.  It will just slow up their development.  I keep forgeting  this is a communist country and they can be stubbornly backwards in their thinking.
    Cleaning up, including a properly functioning heat on demand shower, I sauntered down the road and found a hole in the wall where locals were eating (a good sign)and had myself some stir fried  rice with meat and some rice noodles soup with beef.  Two beers helped.  For the road, I picked several oranges and a mango at a local open front store, all for $1.25.  Fruit is always one of my cravings when I am on the road, something very quenching about eating fruit.
    Back at the hotel, it was nap time followed by two movies on an English speaking station. HBO for free, go figure.  Also, at $3/minute I almost solved a cash transfer problem which will allow me to  get more Vietnamese Dong. With an eleven hour time zone difference, my window of opportunity is 9;00 to about 10:30 when I pass out.  My mainland phone is on call forwarding so I won’t rack up a huge phone bill.  Turning it off to talk to the bank is frustrating because they put you on hold, then you speak with someone from India!
    Tomorrow I ride south to Thái Hao.

A day to catch up, another flat

      Upon arrival in Thành Bao my bike was covered in mud, my bags equally a mess and my legs covered and pants covered with grease and dirt.  I had a few stares as I walked in the hotel but I was too tired to care.  Once checked in, I began the debunking followed by dinner and a deep sleep. The ride on route 1 was stressful compounded by my diminished energy level.  The next, a couple of essential things needed doing.  With almost no hotels and restaurants accepting credit cards, my reserve of Vietnamese dong was dwindling.  Chancing the ATM the city center, I was able on my second try get three million Dong ($140).  Now, how to transfer funds at home to my credit card checking accounts.  Hopefully my bank apps will work.  At home, my S.O., Kate, has all my pertinent information. With some hoops to jump, we should be able to get the transfers worked out.  In the future I will try to use hotels that accept credit cards.  The backwater places are a problem.  The trick here is when the hotel listed online says that no credit card is required to reserve the room, that means the hotel does not accept credit card. The communists are still behind the curve here.
   Next, clean the bike. With a bucket and rag in hand, I began the task and was stunned to find I had another flat tire.  Do I need this aggravation?  The guy behind the hotel counter directed to a bike shop a few blocks down.  The puncture was a result of a tiny wire protruding on the inside of the tire.  Everything was going fine until he couldn’t locate the proper tube size.  He even drove off on his motorbike in search of one.  No luck. He ended up patching the old tube.  I have never resort to patching, instead always buying new tubes. The tire seems to be holding.  I saved the other tube which needs patching as well as another tube slightly different in save which might save me.  I will be stopping at every bike store in search of the right size tube.
     With route 1 being a jungle of trucks, cars, buses and motorbikes all blasting their horns, I have decided to ride across a narrow part of Vietnam from Thành Boa west to Dong Tau. The national park  I will be riding through is beautiful.  More hills but anything is better than Route 1. Pray that my rear tire holds up.
   Wrapping up the day, two women I met, here on maternity health research, one Vietnamese and one a mixture of French, German and Vietnamese ( Marianne and Von/Van) and I went out for dinner.  With no one speaking English, I have felt somewhat isolated in a strange country.  It was good to speak English without resorting to my translation app and sign language.