April 11, 2016
Chapter 11
Days 24,
25 & 26
According to my plan, we were going to reach the final point in just 3 days. The end was near and I was craving for that moment when you would get off the bike, put on something else than the padded bike shorts, and have no more rush and time schedules to follow.
As it often happens when you go towards the last days of a long and difficult venture, your mind sketches an overview of what you have experienced. In that case, my overview was much affected by the fatigue and the present moment. My thoughts went wandering like such: both bikes didn’t perform well any longer, breaks weren’t holding on, gears were constantly snapping, one of the chains was falling at least once a day. Lilyana broke a tooth, she had a continuous pain in her neck and knees. Both of us lost sensitivity in the tip of our fingers, my hands were more and more stiff, so I couldn’t stretch them to be straight and I couldn’t hold things. I was looking with great disgust to my long broken dirty nails, sweaty clothes, stinky bags, dirty hair, dry skin... Day in, day out, we were sleeping in miserable nha nghi (motels) with poor hygiene, bed bugs, clogged shower, no electricity at times, a door that didn’t lock - to name only some of the problems we’ve had. And then, there was the food: somewhere in the last week we lost our appetite and curiosity to taste different meals, for all we could get on the road was some rice or rice noodles with a few pieces of meat (or fat, or bones for the taste of meat). For energy supplement, we topped our diet with the delicious (not!) Chocopies - the only chocolate-like snack we could find in the countryside.
In short, we were fed up with the ride and and we were longing for days of comfort, seeing friends and family, enjoying little pleasures in life. But before that, 3 more days to go.
On the 24th day of our trip, we passed some 20 km near Dalat and continued directly to the city Bao Loc. There were three roads to get there and the night before I was puzzled over which one to take. I opted for the QL20 road and it was a bad choice. For approximately 60 km we struggled with major road works. Often, in Vietnam, when they build or repair roads, they do not work on small parts, close or organise traffic in a particular way so that everything goes smoothly. No. Overloaded trucks and motorbikes, in a hurry to do their job, try to squeeze in just a tiny bit further, occupying any free square centimeter on the road and creating massive and unsolvable jams. In the midst of all that, and the road workers and machines, noise, sand, dust and melted asphalt, we were riding our loaded bicycles on the broken road, much like two ants who have lost the main track and try to find it back again.
It was a long and tiring day but we reached Bao Loc and we stayed there for the night. I woke up the day after with the stress that the two remaining days would be just the same, if not worse. Getting closer to Vietnam's largest city would mean more traffic, more pollution, more problems of any kind.
Fortunately, it was not the case and the 25th day was one of the loveliest days of the whole trip. As soon as we went out of the city, a scenic track opened up to us. An empty mountain road, a continuous descent, a clean air and forested hills. I was zigzagging my way down and breathing in joy. I could see on the map that somewhere very close-by was the Cat Tien National Park. I had been there in the past and while I was cycling, I was looking at the lavish forest around and imagining the macaques and langurs hiding in it, the splendid great hornbills flying over the river at sunset, and the crocodiles waiting to scare the next arrogant visitor who dared to disturb their home.
The day was over and it was our last night on the road. I was tired and restless all at the same time. I recalled what I had heard from pregnant women about their pregnancy and I thought I could relate to it: that mixture of intense experiences and emotions, an almost unbearable physical discomfort, eagerness to end, and already a nostalgia about a period of your life that you would never forget.
Final days in Ho Chi Minh City
We arrived in Ho Chi Minh City early afternoon on the 26th day of our trip. I planned it in a way that we would enter the city around noon and the local siesta hours, when it would be easier to deal with the million-motorbike traffic. In fact, getting in the largest city of Vietnam was much easier than getting out of the capital, Hanoi. The only difficulty was to choose the right routes as Google maps kept on suggesting roads where we were not allowed to cycle on. A number of times we had to go back and find alternative itineraries. Like such, we had the unexpected fun to take a ferry boat. I was amused by the fact that at the very end of the trip, those bikes would have crossed over 2000 kilometers, sailed on water and flown in the air to get back to Hanoi.
I had been more than once in Ho Chi Minh City in the past. I moderately liked it, but I've failed to see it as the “Pearl of the Far East”, the exotic, flamboyant and rich city many claim it to be. It took me precisely 2114 km and the time of 26 days to grasp the abyss that separates HCMC from the rest of the country, and Hanoi. Both big, hectic, crowded, these two rival cities are like two sides of one coin. Each and every one reflects its unique and dramatic history, contrasting climate, and distinct cultural heritage.
If you like South-East Asia, probably you like it (also) for the extreme and curious contrasts naturally existing side-by-side in its cities. Saigon is chic, dirty, sexy, confident, chaotic, and relaxed. It reflects business and it’s very laid-back. Street vendors sell their cheap products at the door steps of high-end luxury stores. Chickens roam freely at the feet of businessmen by the Bitexco Financial Tower. Foreign tourists sit on little plastic chairs and savour local specialties, while Saigoneers eat cheesecake in fancy western style cafés.
You either love or dispise such complexity. In the countryside everything seems so simple: there is a market, a banh mi stand, a motorbike-rapair shop, a hair dresser, a karaoke bar, the buffaloes and the fields. Your skills match directly your occupation and reflect the community's needs. And there is the clutter of big cities: you step in and you drown in the hectic urge for development, million people's aspirations, consumption, and information. In this thousand-year metropolis, time stands still and flies.
I wandered through the labyrinth of streets and marveled at the jungle of suspended cables above me. Their web seemed to connect everything and everyone. I tried to follow them like you follow tracks and they took me on a walk through different times and reigns, showed me altars of ancestors and smiles of young people. When the night fell, the tracks disappeared in the dark and channels of light guided my steps. I felt dizzy and delirious from all the blurry colours, the constant roaring city noise and its electric energy.
Here I was. In Ho Chi Minh City. The trip was over and I was trying to make sense of it all.