Dalat and The Easy Riders

Up early this morning to catch the bus to Da Lat which is nestled in the central highlands about 1500m above sea level; no snow peaked mountains but the scenery should be good and the weather a little cooler than sticky sweltering Ho Chi Minh City.

Whilst the distance is only around a couple of hundred miles it takes us nearly 8 hours to get there. The countryside scenery is supposed to be lovely but I can't confirm that as I fell asleep for most of the journey - there's something about buses that sends me to sleep: and trains, cars, aeroplanes, walking, being awake.

Our plan is to take a two day tour of the surrounding countryside, taking in the vistas and minority ethnic groups, and then head to Nha Trang for a bit of beach relaxation ting. However the weather is looking pretty shit both here and in NT We are so bloody indecisive and seem to change our plans every five minutes. Any road up – as Ena might say – we finally decide that we'll spend two nights in Da Lat and then catch a flight to Hoi An, missing out the beach entirely. We book flights – another bargain at 35 squids.

I've seen pictures of Da Lat and read a couple of things and I'm sure it made a comparison with a Swiss or French Alpine village - so I have this image in my mind. However my first impression is that Da Lat is a bit of a grubby town, I feel a bit disappointed and I hate feeling like that - it's that whole expectation thing again. You know there has been a study done by the University of Nothing Better to Do which concluded there are two types of traveller - the Homer Simpson and the Mr Spock. Mr Spock does endless research before going away, knows exactly where he's going, what he wants to see and has it planned out in his head: Homer Simpson does no research and just takes everything as it comes. They reckon the Spocks are often more disappointed when away as things don't live up to their expectation - Homers have no expectation so are rarely disappointed. I think that's very accurate- I'm usually a Homer so I don't know where all this expectation shit is coming from, I must stop it.

I don't think I've ever changed my mind about somewhere so quickly. After finding a hotel room - £10 a night per room: bargain - ( which incidentally is a family run establishment but if the husband is straight then I'm a feather duster, blimey he's camp, think Larry Grayson or an Asian John Ingman) - we take a stroll around the town which whilst at first glance is not particularly pretty once the sun sets is transformed into a neon lit hive of activity. Apparently lots of Vietnamese come here for holidays or retreat here to escape the madness that is Ho Chi Minh City of a weekend. I'm liking it.

So back in Da Lat there are these blokes who take you on the tours on the back of their motorbikes. We ask Larry Grayson if he can recommend any of the 'easy-riders' as the guides are called and he camply fixes us up with some bloke as if he's Graham Norton taking over Blind Date. This all sounds really good until after its booked and I start to think about what I'm letting myself in for – I've only ever been on the back of a moped once – just around the block – and I screamed all the way like some banshee with her tit caught in a mangle. I'm starting to have hot flushes , images of South America come rushing back to me in a nauseous wave of fear.

The next morning the men arrive with their big throbbing bikes, they are very nice, speak good English and settle our minds that they are not going to be doing a Barry Sheen on us for two days. Ad is very gallant and instead of telling them that I'm a complete pussy suggests that we are both a little nervous. That's my man!! I don't know what’s wrong with me though I worry about stupid things ....like how the fuck do you get on and off the bike.

Off we tootles ( I managed to get on ok) and I surprise myself at how not shit scared I am as the driver races down the road at 10 miles per hour – piece of piss. First stop is some rolling hills just outside Da Lat, the guide explains a few things ( don’t ask me, I've forgotten already) and tells us this was the scene of a very ferocious battle during the war. We have a little trek up and around the hill which gives us a fantastic view of the surrounding countryside, hills, forests and a smattering of dwellings. The weather is not particularly good but it gives the vista a misty coating that adds to the drama of the location.

Back on the road and the views are gorgeous – every shade of vibrant green can be seen in this kaleidoscopic patchwork of farm land and forests. Next stop is the Elephant Falls – apparently they were named after the wild elephants that used to come here to drink and bathe, sadly long since gone with the encroachment of man and his dastardly deforestations. We view the waterfall from the top – its quite impressive – especially as its done nothing but bleedin rain for the past month, so we are told. The guide takes us around the side on a descent to the bottom...it's all a little precarious and Great Old Aunty Colin is once again positive I'm gonna break my neck. By the side of the main waterfall is a much smaller one but due to the amount of recent rain and the colour of the soil in the area it flows a deep reddish brown colour – its looks like something out of Willy Wonkas factory. At the bottom the guide takes us through a narrow crevice and we are literally behind the main falls – needless to say we get absolutely drenched - but its all good fun.

Just a few yards up from the fall we visit a Buddhist temple, which has statues outside of both Gothama Buddha and that big fat one commonly known as the laughing Buddha who is much revered for his qualities of kindness, humour and generosity. The guide asks us on our return whether we liked the laughing Buddha then slaps my stomach and says “ not long before you get there” - cheeky fucker.

One of the great things about these types of tours is that they take you to eat at places that a) you wouldn't even know existed and b) mostly probably wouldn't choose to eat at. We have an absolute banquet - fish, pork, chicken, spring rolls, beef meatball type things, cat fish calamari, vegetables, rice, soup and bananas , two cokes and all for £1.50 each – that must be the cheapest meal I've ever eaten and it was delicious.

In the afternoon we are taken to a village of some ethnic minority peoples. They are extremely poor, but we are shown into one of the families cooking hut, the grandmother comes and sits with us as the guide explains a little about their lives. The old lady is lovely, Ad plucks up the courage to ask her for a photo to which she agrees. After he's done Ad prints off one of the photos for her from his polaroid printer thingy – she is over the moon with the photograph. Outside he then takes pictures of the daughter and her child and also the father and the child – again Ad prints these off for them. The mum and dad are absolutely over the moon to have a photo of their baby and them – it gets a little touching. These people are so poor that those polaroid prints will probably be one of very few pictures they ever have of their child and their gratitude and happiness is all a bit overwhelming. We head off home feeling really good about the day.

Day two. The guides have persuaded us that they can drop us off at the airport after today's trip so that we can have more of a full day. We have high hopes after yesterday finished so well. We're hoping to see plenty of countryside, waterfalls and naturey type things. First stop is a museum, which whilst having some disturbing pictures of the Vietnam war and interesting ones of some minority tribes, it's not really that interesting -especially the stuffed animals that look like the taxidermist must have been on acid- and we are done in half an hour, Then the drivers want to take us to some factories which we politely decline. So off we go to see some waterfalls, unfortunately the falls have become a little commercialised, to say the least, and each one is like stepping into a 1970's theme park – think plastic cartoon elephant dustbins and giant religious garden gnomes – the waterfalls are alright but are spoilt by the plastic tat that surrounds them. I quite enjoy them but it's not the natural wonders in spectacular surrounding we were expecting. Time presses on and we are then told we are going to a minority hamlet called Chicken Village – Lonely Planet tells you not to go there cos it shit basically – so our hearts sink a little further. However, our guide is absolutely brilliant at this village and knows loads about their history, way of life and is a mine of information – he also tells us a little about the war from his own perspective; he was in the South Vietnamese army working with the Americans in communications, once the North won, he was imprisoned and underwent a year of “reprogramming” by the Vietnamese Communist Party. He also shares with us his knowledge of the coffee bean industry and how it is all done – Vietnam, is now the second biggest exporter after Brazil apparently. He then takes us to see a family that he knows very well and Ad takes loads of pics of the mother and some of her 14 children and again gives then copies which makes them all whoop with laughter. A nice way to finish.