Along the Mekong

The ESL Myth

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sun, 11 Mar 2012 10:02:00 +0000

I usually maintain a more-or-less positive outlook on this page, since there are too many crappy blogs out there that consist of nothing more than Westerners bitching about their adopted developing country. That's not what I'm here to do - if you can't find something positive to say, maybe you should just go home.

That being said, this is going to be a fairly negative post. I've been wanting to write it for a while, but I didn't feel like slamming my employer. Last week, however, I was let go in a very unprofessional way, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Since writing is now my primary source of income, time to let rip.

I worked for an English as a Second Language (ESL) center called VUS. One of the largest such companies in Saigon, VUS has a number of campuses scattered throughout the city. They are slick and well-presented, and at first glance pretty impressive. VUS's advertising portrays classrooms full of attentive students (But not too many students! Prospective teachers are told class sizes are small!), where English is learned in a fun, respectful atmosphere. The brightly-colored textbooks from international publishers sure look pretty, and we even have the use of projectors! And copy machines! The impression is given that students will finish their time at VUS with the ability to speak English at a conversational level. (It should be noted that VUS isn't the only place here guilty of all of this.)

The reality, however, couldn't be farther from all of this bullshit. Classes are enormous - I had a class of 8 year-olds with 26 students in it. Sure, that's small compared to a public school, where they squeeze an entire district into a 15ft by 15ft room, but it's still far too many kids. The classes with young students aren't really the problem though, since they are actually eager to be there. The biggest problems emerge when you teach teenagers.

Class sizes are still huge - 18, 20, even 24. And while 24 children can be controlled since they still have a sense of respect for the teacher, 24 14 year-olds couldn't care less about you. Classes at language centers are expensive, so most of the students taking them are pretty well off, and often disgustingly spoiled. They aren't used to being told "no", or "shut up", or "stop texting or I'll take your phone away". Another problem is that the school keeps classes together when they move to the next level, so we end up having to deal with classes where everyone is best friends with everyone else, and all they want to do is talk to each other. Actually, shout would be the more correct verb - I've documented the loudness of many people in this country before, and when a class of teenagers really gets going it sounds like a 747 crashing into an oil refinery. Only those of us with megaphones for voices can get control of a room with so much noise in it, and I certainly do not have such a vocal capability. Therefore, I usually end up talking to the 4.5 kids that are paying attention, while the rest carry on in obnoxiously nasal Vietnamese. My philosophy was always this: if they want to waste their parent's 4 million VND by ignoring me, go ahead. I'm still getting paid $17 an hour, and I'm not going to lose my voice screaming at them.

When I did want to discipline a student though, there was no effective way to do that. Telling them to shut up works (sometimes) until you look away. If you kick them out of the room they just run around the halls like morons. You can send them to the office and have their parents called, but all that does is get them slapped around a bit, and they're back to the same old crap within a week or two. If you blow up and go on an expletive-laced rampage in English it will feel good, but they won't understand a lick of it because you're talking so fast. And they will probably just laugh. Our managers always told us to focus on classroom management, but how do you maintain order when you have 20 pre-teens locked in a room for three hours on a Friday night? After they've already been in Vietnamese school for about 267 hours of the week? Would you expect anything but chaos?

Now let's get to what's actually being taught. Most of the content in the books we are given is almost useless, and completely out of context in regards to what students here know. I was once observed during a lesson that was titled 'Swap Shop'. The manager asked me what the focus of the lesson was: I said understanding the grammar and vocabulary that was being presented. She said no, the focus was the act of swapping. Um, actually, students are about as interested in the concept of swapping as they are in whether or not Greece's austerity measures will return the country to fiscal health.

Other lessons focus on people or events or places from Western culture that I've never even heard of, so you can imagine the trouble students that have been exposed to a very narrow slice of this culture (Justin Bieber, zombie movies, an obsession with money) would have in comprehending something about Leonardo da Vinci or caves in central Turkey. When they see something they don't recognize, they just turn off. So we muddle through useless books, picking up a few relevant language points, letting classes out for break 10 minutes early and returning 10 minutes late, watching videos from the BBC about leopards in Botswana without subtitles, creating an army of mediocre English-speakers that can't respond to a multi-part question but can tell you that you get a bronze for coming in 3rd at the Olympics. Just don't ask them what the Olympics are.

Much of this boils down to the fact that centers like VUS operate as a business first and a place of learning second. I realize many schools are guilty of this, but I've never seen this modus operandi so evident as I did when I worked there. The classes are huge because they simply can't say no to money. Sure, you can join that class! Might it cause problems for the teacher? Meh, who cares. Students also seem to be placed in the next level even if they can barely respond to "What's your name?" with a coherent sentence. I've had countless students in supposedly higher-level classes that couldn't make a well-structured sentence if their life depended on it and had pronunciation so awful I could barely understand a word out of their mouth. And I've had a lot of practice with understanding bad pronunciation. Why is someone that gets a 52 out of 100 on their final test allowed to move to the next level? Well, so their parents can fork over another pile of dong to the school, of course.

Ranting aside, this is actually a serious problem for Vietnam. There are some very good English speakers here, but by and large the command of the language is poor, and since the education isn't done in a relevant way it is very difficult to have a flowing, interesting conversation even with someone who has a large vocabulary. ESL is so standardized here that certain questions elicit the exact same response from everyone: for example, Vietnam is a country of 86 million people who are all "Fine, thank you," since that is the only response to "How are you?" that is taught. If people expect Vietnam to develop a population of understandable, coherent English speakers, something needs to be done to get language centers to focus on actually teaching English, instead of making money hand-over-fist.

Lost in Translation

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 17:38:00 +0000

One of the wonderful benefits of being a native English speaker living in Asia is the abundance of opportunities presented to witness hilariously mangled English. From holiday banners proclaiming "GREETINGS SEASONS!!!", to restaurant menus offering "crap hot pot", to t-shirts proclaiming "Iam fashion MilAN York model? happy!! rabbit", this continent is awash in inadvertently slaughtered grammar and spelling.

A prime example of this is a children's book a few of us found at a bookstore in Pleiku during the bike ride. I have since found out that this publication has been pulled from the shelves here in Saigon, since someone finally realized just how ridiculous the story sounded in its translation. In English, the title is "The Ass, the Cock, and the Lion." What, you don't believe me?

This is the unfortunate translation the publishers chose for the Vietnamese words for donkey, rooster, and...lion. The story begins innocently enough:

But things take a turn for the comical on page 2:

We continue on page 3: "One day, a starving lion wandered around to hunt. It found the cock and the ass seeking for food together. The lion wanted to catch the fat ass to eat."

"The cock saw the lion therefore it crew loudly, 'Cock-a-doodle-doo...Cock-a-doodle-doo...'. Then, the ass tried to shout also. The chorus they made sounded peculiarly." (Try saying that last word out loud and tell me it's not hard.)

"The lion heard that loud voice. It hesitated and went away. But, the stupid ass thought the lion was afraid of it. So, it galloped after him."

"The high-spirited ass chased after the lion and kept screaming. The lion pretended to be afraid. It deceived the ass to the depth of a forest."

"When the ass was deceived far enough (hello, Google translate!), the lion turned to pounce and eat that stupid ass."

The tale closes with a rather unclear moral: "The one who always proclaims himself often encounters with a danger." Yes, just one danger. We are also presented with an image of the disconsolate cock standing on the rib cage of the ass, mourning the loss of his long-time partner.

A truly heartwarms stories for all us.

Cycling the Dragon's Spine

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 11:48:00 +0000

After abusing myself physically for a month and then chemically for four days, I finally resumed functioning as a normal human being on Monday, and I should now be able to compose a proper send-off to H2H 2012, though it will still be difficult to condense all of my post-ride thoughts into one post.

"A bicycle does get you there and more...And there is always the thin edge of danger to keep you alert and comfortably apprehensive. Dogs become dogs again and snap at your raincoat; potholes become personal. And getting there is all the fun." - Bill Emerson

"It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of the country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle." - Ernest Hemingway

In case you've just come across this blog, last week I finished a 2,000km bicycle ride from Hanoi to Saigon called H2H. While the ride was undertaken in support of charity and we ended up raising nearly $40,000, it's safe to say that that wasn't the primary motivation behind my participation. I love riding bikes, and I love Vietnam, so what better way to experience this place than by cycling most of its length? With the journey now over and all of its associated images and emotions firmly imprinted in my mind, one of the things that most strikes me looking back is the incredible diversity of Vietnam.

Let's start with the weather, which basically divided the ride into several distinct stages. The first 11 days of riding, from Hanoi to Hue, took place in a seemingly infinite chilly mist under leaden overcast. While there were a few semi-dry days, the abiding memory from this first stretch is one of constantly being wet: clothing wouldn't dry in our drafty hotels, bike chains rusted, seats stayed damp. This went along with being covered in mud for days on end.

Once we got past Hue the weather improved dramatically. The skies dried out, and there was often more sunshine than cloudiness, though there was still some awful weather to deal with, as well as this:

Catastrophic accidents aside, most days started to look like this:

Once we reached Ngoc Hoi on Day 17, it was clear sailing all the way to Saigon, as we cycled through the blazing heat of southern Vietnam, where there is no respite even in February.

Vietnam is also very diverse geographically. The jagged karsts of the region southwest of Hanoi looked they had been stolen from Ha Long Bay.

Once we reached central Vietnam the limestone karsts gave way to rolling hills, providing us with the hardest cycling of the ride.

Next up were the soft undulations of the windswept, sun-baked Central Highlands - probably my favorite stretch of the journey, at least in terms of enjoyable cycling.

Once we dropped out of the Central Highlands it was almost completely flat the rest of the way to Saigon, as this region of the country has almost no topography.

We also saw the surprisingly wide array of people that call Vietnam home. While it's true that this is a rather homogeneous country, 14% of the population (that's over 12,000,000 people) belongs to one of the 54 ethnic minority groups found here. The people of these groups look completely different from ethnic Vietnamese, and many of us were struck by the fact that some looked more like they were from the Indian Subcontinent.

The final easily noticeable area in which this country is different from region to region is food. To be blunt, food in Southern Vietnam is far superior to the cuisine up north. (Sorry Northerners, but it's true.) While there are specific Northern dishes, especially in Hanoi, that are awesome, it is a far cry from the South, where you can order practically anything and expect it to be absolutely delicious. The first few days of the ride made for pretty grim eating, as often our choice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was pho, pho, or more pho. Chao, a thick porridge, was widely available as well, but I don't really care for it, and neither of those dishes are very filling when you're riding a bike an average of 80km a day. Even something as simple as a banh mi op la, or even just a loaf of bread for crying out loud, was nowhere to be found, and the minimal dining options combined with the awful weather made for a trying first week.

As we moved south of Hue though, the food improved remarkably. Banh mi carts were open for breakfast, bun thit nuong restaurants started appearing, and when we found a woman cooking up banh xeo on a sidewalk in Ngoc Hoi, we could actually taste our progress. Our meals become much more exciting: mi xao, com tam, a smorgasbord of fresh fruit that isn't available in the less climatically hospitable north, nuoc mia, and so on. By the end of the ride we all agreed that we were happy to be living in the gastronomic utopia that is Saigon.

While it may look to some as if the ride was basically a month-long vacation, it wasn't all easy: the worst hills were absolutely brutal, and there were times when it became mentally difficult to envision going on; dealing with the execrable drivers of this country was often a harrowing, terrifying experience, as many seem to have little regard for human life (They also simply aren't used to bicycles that can move as fast as ours, since everyone here rides single-speed Martins that won't be winning any races.); traversing bone-rattling roads made life absolutely hateful on a few days; missing the last five days thanks to pulled quadriceps was crushing both physically and psychologically; and then there's the fact that I had five punctures, one blowout, and crashed four times.

All of that aside though, H2H was an incredible experience. As Emerson says in his above quote, cycling keeps you alert, it makes you feel alive in a way that no other mode of transportation is capable of. I learned the contours of Vietnam well, sometimes while on my face, and I feel that I've come to know this country better. I met locals at nearly every stop, and was able to see how different life is in a place like Vu Ban, where there isn't even a paved road, compared to Saigon, where there is far too much concrete.

Perhaps what I most enjoyed about this trip was that it allowed me to rediscover the singular joy that is riding a bicycle. You are able to stop wherever you please, you can say "Hello!" to a group of excited children as you cruise by, you really get to know a place. Whereas a car keeps you cocooned from the world around you, on a bike you are open to the sun, the rain, the heat, the herd of cows wandering languorously down the middle of the road, the tour bus driver overtaking another tour bus that is already overtaking a car on a small two-lane road. To be honest I've felt somewhat listless since returning to Saigon. I want the open road, the pedals beneath my feet. After 2,000km, I want more.

"Cycle tracks will abound in Utopia." - H.G. Wells

I Heart Food

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 10:16:00 +0000

Still waiting for that rumored final wrap-up of the bike ride? Yea, me too.

One of the things I was most excited about when we got back to Saigon was the easy availability of good Western food. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love Vietnamese food and eat it for most of my meals, but after a month of the same noodle and rice dishes it was time for some comfort food. After blowing through a lot of money over the weekend I wasn't disappointed. Three meals in particular stood out.

On Saturday I went to Au Parc (23 Han Thuyen, near the palace) for brunch with several people from the ride. Many of us made sure we didn't have to go back to teaching this weekend, so we took advantage of having a rare Saturday and Sunday off. It was actually a little odd seeing what people that have weekends off do with their time.

Au Parc is an extremely popular Moroccan/Mediterranean themed restaurant where fresh salads, sandwiches and entrees are served in a really nice setting. There are two options on the brunch menu: New York brunch, and Turkish brunch. I went for the NY one with eggs benedict and poached salmon, as well as bagels, home-made bread with jam and honey, and a brownie. For 270,000 dong, this was a great deal.

look at that spread!

Later that night I had dinner with two of my friends at Cuc Gach (10 Dang Tat, District 1), in my opinion one of the best Vietnamese restaurants in the city (Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie ate here when they stopped in Saigon earlier this year.). An architect lives in one part of the building, and the restaurant is simply beautiful. Each room looks a bit different from the others, and there is a pond at the bottom of the staircase that leads to the second floor.

This was probably my sixth time eating at Cuc Gach, so I know what I'm doing, but the mammoth wood-bound menu can be intimidating to first-timers, although the staff will gladly recommend dishes. There is a huge range of options, all expertly cooked with high-quality ingredients. We went for a few of our favorites: tofu with lemongrass, pork cooked in clay pot, soft-shell crabs, and morning glory, along with brown rice. Such a good meal.

Finally on Sunday night I went to Ciao Bella (11 Dong Du, District 1), a fairly new Italian restaurant, for my birthday dinner. My editor at AsiaLIFE had raved about the place, so I was excited to check it out. It did not disappoint.

For a starter I had a rich egg ravioli, which was bathed in an amazing sauce.

My main dish was a massive serving of porchetta, big hunks of pork stuffed with fennel, garlic, and other herbs and served with gravy, steamed vegetables, and roast potatoes. This cost about 250,000 dong ($12), which is a lot more than I'm used to paying for food, but the portion was enormous and simply delicious.

The hospitality at Ciao Bella was also great - the manager sent us two desserts free of charge since it was my birthday. Below is the 'Pope's Pillow', and we also got a sizable piece of Tiramisu cake, one of the best I've ever had. This was a fabulous dinner, and I will certainly be going back for more at some point in the future.

the big 2-4

As a result of all this fine dining I've simply been bleeding money since ending the bike ride last Wednesday. Time to get back to my cheap Vietnamese haunts this week.

H2H Through Video

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 11:52:00 +0000

I've been carousing far too much since returning to Saigon on Wednesday to compose an articulate reflection on the ride, so for now I'm going to post a number of videos from the trip. They include clips of cycling, celebrating, and reactions of locals to 19 Westerners wearing lycra.

1) While stopped on the big hill on our second day of riding, we were passed by a truck spewing black fumes across the road.

2) Me greeting students on bicycles in the middle of nowhere.

3) While stopped for lunch on Highway 1 we attracted a bit of a crowd.

4) The first of three clips from the wedding that Tin, Phong, both Toms, Chris, Johnny and I crashed in Do Luong.

5)

6) We're really drunk by this point.

7) Roadside dance party in Dong Hoi.

8) The butterfly migration we rode through in the Central Highlands.

9) Riding out of Buon Ma Thuot.

10) Riding down Le Duan to the finish line.

H2H Day 27: The Big City Awaits

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 09:08:00 +0000

The final day of the ride was a 107km cycle from Dinh Quan to Saigon, the finishing point of our 2,000km month-long odyssey. Once everyone set off it was back in the rear support van for me, thanks to my incredibly painful quadriceps.

We had left early to ensure that we would arrive in the city at 2:30, the time we told all of our friends to meet us, but everyone rode very quickly, and smashed through 30km in no time. We had about 5 hours to cover just 70km, so the riders decided to start taking breaks every 15 or 20km.

Once we got onto Highway 1 it became obvious that we were approaching the country's largest city: traffic was extremely dense, and the factories and industrial parks of Saigon's outskirts were proof of the metropolis's economic importance.

The van caught up with everyone else at the foot of the Saigon Bridge, which connects District 2 to Binh Thanh District. We were all ecstatic to be so close to the end. One of the drivers from DHL (who was our main sponsor) met us with a motorbike, and I hopped on the back with my camera, as well as the team video camera.

rollin' into Saigon

We stopped in front of the zoo for one last regroup before rolling down Le Duan to our grand finish at the gates of the Reunification Palace. I was not going to miss this, so I had popped a bunch of painkillers and slathered some Deep Heat on my legs in preparation for the pain I knew was coming.

We headed off down the street and my legs starting hurting almost immediately. As we passed the American and British consulates, the ANZ tower, and Diamond Plaza I could hear the other riders hooting and hollering as the drivers around us wondered what the hell was going on. I, however, was in complete and utter agony.

Once we got within a block of the palace pain was flooding every nerve in my body and I was on the verge of vomiting. I seriously considered just falling off my bike in the middle of the road, but the encouraging cheers of a few of the riders pushed me to the gate, where I immediately collapsed in a heap of white-hot agony on the oven-hot asphalt. While everyone celebrated and hugged the people who had come to greet us, I was splayed out on the ground, barely able to talk after riding less than 2km.

I had to move to the sidewalk after a security guard told me buses were trying to park, so I hobbled over and laid back down. The upside of being incapacitated was that I got a lot of attention: at one point I had Rhona and Dana holding ice on my thighs, Zara feeding me a hamburger, Sandra rubbing my shoulders, and Johnny fanning me with a flag. Quinn also handed me part of a Whopper, and one of the riders from last year gave me a donut.

However, I knew that I needed to see a doctor now that I was back in a place that has proper medical facilities, so after finally standing up and thanking some of the people who had shown up to congratulate us, I headed to a Western clinic. After getting an ultrasound on both thighs I was informed that I had no muscle tears, which surprised me when I recalled the debilitating pain I had been in just a few hours earlier, but that both quadriceps were badly pulled. I was given some medicine and told to rest, as I already knew.

After going home for the first time in a month and showering in my own bathroom I met back up with the team at Mogambo's, a Western restaurant on Pasteur, for our last group dinner. I had an awesome meatball sub and a piece of blueberry pie with ice cream for dessert.

I had hoped to have a late night with some of the other riders, but that brutal, albeit very short, ride from the zoo to the palace had completely drained me, so I headed back home around 11. The ride was over, it was time to sleep.

H2H Day 26: How to Piss Off the Locals

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 13:33:00 +0000

the penultimate morning

My legs felt pretty good when I woke up this morning, but by the time I walked down the stairs from the third floor to the street I was in serious pain. Clearly, I wouldn't be riding for a fourth day in a row. Once again, I was dispirited, for several reasons: We've been functioning as a team for nearly four weeks now, and not being a part of that is hard. I love riding. Finally Rhona, who has been traveling for several months and hence has 40...yes 40 pairs of underwear, agreed to let a few of us guys wear one for the day. I had tried on a pair that fit fairly well, while showing far too much body hair, and was game to go along with it. Not being able to ride precluded me from being involved though.

This caused problems later in the day

About 10km into the day everyone stopped at the top of a huge downhill that would essentially drop us out of the Central Highlands and into the flat, alluvial plain that is deep southern Vietnam. I did not want to have to hear about the Greatest Descent of the Ride all afternoon from the other riders and I reckoned I could make it down without having to pedal, so I pulled my bike out of the rear support van and mounted up. I had thought of this idea after I had packed though, so the only shoes available were flip-flops. I headed down the mountain with useless brakes and completely unsafe shoes.

It was an epic downhill on a great road snaking down the side of a mountain, with rugged, green peaks all around us. I felt alive, and as I thought I hardly had to pedal, so my legs felt fine. I did nearly wipe out on a patch of gravel when I took a wide turn thanks to my shit brakes though. Once the blast to the bottom ended I was only able to go about 50m before my legs erupted in pain again, so I went back into the van, expecting another dreadfully boring day.

Instead, things became very interesting towards the end of our lunch stop about 25km from Dinh Quan, our last stop on the ride before reaching Saigon. Around 10 of us gathered at a road-side restaurant. As several of us got our food Hanneke and Phong, one of three guys who was wearing a pair of Rhona's panties, walked a little ways down the street to get some inner tubes patched. Across the street several men were gathered in a cafe, already drunk at mid-day. They didn't seem to appreciate Phong's skimpy attire, and they were shouting something at him, but it didn't seem to be a big deal. A few truck drivers had made remarks earlier in the day, but it appeared to be harmless.

After we finished eating, Phong pumped up a tire, a motion that looked pretty humorous in his sartorial state, and when he finished he put the pump in his crotch and pretended to jerk it off, all in view of the guys drinking at the cafe. The next thing we knew they were storming towards us, beer bottles in hand, livid rage written on their faces. We all knew it might not have been the best idea, but we were having fun as a group and not even thinking about the men. Things had suddenly taken a much darker turn.

The guys among us stood up to try to calm them down, and there was a lot of shouting going on, when two bottles came hurtling in, smashing on the ground around us. Fortunately, no one was hurt. At this point the staff of the restaurant rushed into the street to our defense: the male waiters relieved the enraged attackers of their remaining bottles, and the middle-aged female proprietor began screaming at them. Apparently she was saying "I don't care if people are naked, this is my business, and they can do what they want!!!" Other people came out of the houses around us and tried to restrain the drunks, while a calmer guy approached us and started telling us to put more clothes on. The men from the cafe were still visibly enraged, and we decided it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

I hobbled over to Hanneke, who was still waiting to get her tubes back, to tell her what was going on. Phong and a few of the riders were mounting up, but the drunk men were still trying to come at them. One had a brick in his hand, and another had some sort of metal pipe. Luckily, enough of the bystanders were on our side that they were restrained. As some riders cycled off, I saw a motorbike with two punky guys on it pull up to the cafe, where someone pointed them in the direction of our group members. They took off in pursuit. I had a bad feeling about that.

Hanneke and I walked back to the restaurant, where a huge crowd was now gathered. The people from where we ate and the people at the cafe were yelling across the street to each other, and cops were starting to arrive. There were four of us left, and we needed to leave. A man approached us and in drunken, broken English explained that he didn't drink beer, that he had only been eating, while mumbling a bunch of other random phrases. Tom S. then got a call saying Phong had been assaulted with a stick by two men on a motorbike, and we needed to go get him. Tom, Sandra, and Kirsty rode off, and I hopped back into the van, just as a police truck pulled up and more cops spilled out.

A few kilometers down we met the guys who had left when things were getting really heated. Phong had an impressive welt on his lower back from the attack. The moto had pulled up next to him, the guy on the back whacked him, and then they had turned around and took off. After that he had put his normal cycling shorts back on. Mr. Cuong, who drives the rear support van, told him to get in and lay down. We were in the middle of nowhere, and this was their territory. He said the cafe men were part of a gang, but we assumed they were just backwards hillbillies. Everyone else had been OK with the men in girl's lingerie, but this group went absolutely berserk. Even though many of us on this ride have lived in Vietnam for over a year and know that the country is more conservative than our Western homelands, we still don't realize sometimes the vastly different outlooks certain people have towards acceptable public behavior.(Again, the way some of us were dressed might not have been the smartest idea, but throwing beer bottles at people is just absurd.)

Mr. Cuong decided to forgo his normal job of following the rear riders and simply get those of us in the van to the hotel as fast as possible. He was clearly worried about more motorbikes coming after us, and he didn't want to put his vehicle in danger either. We called the driver of the lead support van, who was already in town, and told him to get back on the road and find the remaining riders so he could escort them to safety. We then got a call saying Sandra's bike had been stolen while she was stopped on the side of the road. This day was turning into a complete fiasco.

We got to the hotel decompressed, waiting for the remaining riders to arrive. It turned out that Sandra's bike was fine: she had let a local take it for a spin, and the person took it out of eyesight, but returned a few minutes later. We talked about the events of the day and realized how lucky we were that things hadn't ended worse. When you look completely different from everyone else in a group that is very angry, you never know which side the people around you will take. Had the staff of the restaurant not come to our defense we would have probably had to fight off furious men armed with glass bottles and who knows what else. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea for guys to wear only women's panties on their bottoms, but the heated, violent reaction of this group of men shocked us. At least we have another story to tell from this ride.

This was the last day before our ride into Saigon, a 107km leg heralding the end of our month-long journey. Sadly, my leg muscles are still very painful, and I will definitely not be able to ride. I'm pretty sure I have a second-grade tear in both quadriceps, so if any of you have advice on how to help them heal please let me know. I'm absolutely gutted that I've missed every day since Saturday, and the decision to do the ride again next year has already been made. This has been an amazing experience, and I'll have a thoughtful recap up sometime this weekend, hopefully. Tomorrow I plan on drinking and eating myself silly on the bounties of Saigon.

sunset on the last day before reaching Saigon

If you've been reading this all along and would like to donate to H2H now that we're finally about to finish, please visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride. I'm this close to reaching my goal of raising $2,500 for charity.

H2H Days 23-25: M.I.A.

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 15:57:00 +0000

I was in the late group to leave Buon Ma Thuot on Saturday after our rest day, and since we had a short, fairly flat ride ahead of us we decided to enjoy the afternoon and ride together, instead of at our own pace as usual. Since I'm one of the fastest members of the ride, this meant I would be able to take it easy.

About 10km in, while effortlessly cruising, a strange burning sensation made itself known in my right quadricep. Unsure of what it was, I kept going. The pain worsened until, about 15km into the ride, it felt like I was being stabbed every time my right leg moved up with the pedal. I was getting nauseous from the pain, so I stopped and discovered that I couldn't pick my leg six inches off the ground without it badly hurting. There was no way I could continue, so I hauled myself into one of the support vans and hoped it was nothing serious.

I showed up in Lien Son, our stop for the night, and had to hobble around like a war invalid. We stayed at a resort on Lak Lake.

The next morning, after rest, painkillers, and a salonpas pad, I felt close to normal, though there was still some stiffness in my leg. However, the ride that day was over 100km with a long climb towards the end, and as much as I wanted to ride I didn't think it would be a good idea to risk further injury with Saigon just a few days away. I resigned myself to another van day. Here are some pics from along the way.

the pet baby monkey at the restaurant we ate lunch at

My day was horribly boring. The climb looked hard, but in Lam Ha, our stop, everyone was in good spirits and said it was a great ride. The scenery had been fantastic, and I was determined to ride the next day.

Everything was fine the following morning, but as I was walking back to the hotel from breakfast, pain flared up in my right quad again. I was worried, but after laying down for 10 minutes the pain subsided. I mistakenly thought everything was alright.

As we were gearing up to go my left quad started complaining. I thought it was just a small cramp since I had been favoring it to rest my right leg, but after 2km it had exploded into dazzling pain, sending daggers up to my lower back every time I pedaled. Utterly deflated, I went back into the van.

A cyclist with malfunctioning legs is like a bird with clipped wings, and I was dejected. Furious at my body for failing me with over 80% of the ride done, I couldn't figure out what was going on. I've felt great for 1700km of cycling, yet suddenly I could barely walk. I don't know if these are muscle strains, tears, or severe cramps, but I am riding into Saigon on Wednesday no matter how much pain I'm in, consequences be damned. Missing that after putting in so much effort would be devastating. I've had more than enough of the rear support van and Mr. Cuong's endless CD's of love ballads. The time spent idle is starting to mess with my head - last night I had a dream involving Ridley Scott driving a taxi, and me getting attacked by a pack of feral raccoons on the shore of a lake overlooking a bright city skyline. I really need to start riding again. Tomorrow, I give it another go.

from today's 105km ride from Lam Ha to Bao Loc

chillin' on the stoop

a very drunk Vietnamese man

17 pizzas

If you would like to lift my spirits by making a donation to H2H, please visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride.

On the 22nd Day We Rested Again

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 03:22:00 +0000

Buon Ma Thuot (BMT) in relation to HCMC

Our rest day in BMT, the biggest city in the Central Highlands and the coffee capital of the country (Vietnam is one of the world's largest exporter of the good), was much needed after several days of searing sun, stunningly bad drivers, and pockmarked roads. We rewarded ourselves for completing over 75% of the ride by splashing out on a $25-a-night hotel with a pool. On Thursday night we had a group dinner and then went out in search of a place to do karaoke.

The place we went to didn't have any English songs, so we tried going somewhere else, but ended up only finding a 'discotheque' in the basement of a hotel. Over half the group decided to just go home, but a few of us were determined to have a fun night so we agreed to make the best out of the situation. We were the only Westerners in the place, which was actually just a strobe-lit whorehouse. The number of hookers and bouncers was at least double the number of patrons, and no one was dancing. We took over the small dance floor and had a good time, under the unsure gaze of scantily-clad "entertainers" and angry-looking heavies.

places like this are just weird

a bevy of prostitutes, Tom, and some bouncers

The music was pretty terrible, but we still enjoyed ourselves and vowed to search for karaoke again the next night. The following day, the rest day itself, consisted of lazing by the pool, relaxing in the hotel room, and another meal at KFC. When it came time for karaoke, only eight of us manned up to go, and we found an acceptable parlor at the Heavenly Horse Hotel. One of the support van drivers came with and brought along a bottle of bourbon. He simply sat there watching us sing while pouring shots for us. After a couple hours of awful renditions of a wide variety of songs we headed back to our hotel for one more night of sleep in the comfy beds.

We're now just over 400km from Saigon, and with just five cycling days left (including today), the end of the ride is rapidly approaching. It's hard to believe how far we've come since leaving Hanoi on the 3rd, and the past three weeks have started to blur together. This adventure is going by extremely quickly, and it will definitely take a couple of days to adjust and integrate back into the routine of working in Saigon.

We have a short ride ahead of us today, just 48km, but the next two are going to be over 100km, so we still have some hard cycling ahead of us. It seems like nearly everyone in the group has some sort of wound from the road, and we've certainly taken our lumps, proof that this isn't just a month-long vacation. Traffic will be getting heavier and heavier as we approach hyperactive Saigon, so we will have to remain on our toes, a lesson learned through the crashes of the days leading up to our arrival in BMT. We're also far enough south now that the tropical heat is coming at us full-bore, which makes the strain of the ride that much more taxing. All of that being said though, we're in pretty good spirits, and we're all starting to feel a sense of accomplishment with the end nearing. Today, we ride on.

H2H Day 21: Get Me Off This Road

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 17:59:00 +0000

We've been riding on the same highway for the past four days, and for the most part it is horrendous. It looks fairly smooth, and you are able to pick up a healthy head of steam, but it is covered in deceptively innocent-looking potholes that make such speed absolutely brutal. Going downhill on this road surface is just shattering - our bikes have no suspension of any kind, so our arms act as shock absorbers as the shallow holes in the road pummel our skeletal systems to pieces. I got a headache several times, not from the burning heat, but from being bounced around so much. These bumps are so vicious that they could easily throw you off your line and into the steely embrace of a dump truck, so staying focused and in a straight line is extremely important. At least the strong headwind of the previous day had slacked off.

That road looks pretty smooth, right? Wrong.

There is also no shoulder, and when the idiotic bus and truck drivers of Vietnam try to overtake each other, we often have no choice but to go off the road in order to avoid becoming another statistic. We've had several instances in which drivers have even intentionally run someone off, for reasons unknown. On the 80km ride under a cloudless sky from Ea Drang to Buon Ma Thuot (from now on just BMT), we all neared the breaking point with this road.

I came close to breaking more than just mentally about 35km into the ride. I was going downhill, rather quickly, getting bounced around like a piece of popcorn, when a motorbike passed me just as a truck going in the opposite direction came around a blind corner in our lane. The moto cut right in front of me and started braking. I slammed on my brakes but could tell I wasn't going to stop in time, and the result was...well, watch the video. I happened to have a helmet camera filming at the time:

(It's hard to make out, but apologies for the vulgar language at the end.)

That video is a prime example of how quickly things can go wrong on the roads here, and how dangerously people drive as well. One second I was cruising, the next I was on my back in the dirt. Fortunately this happened in an area where there was grass, not gravel, along the road, so no skin was opened up, but I landed squarely on my right calf, which will be bruised for a while.

I got up and dusted myself off and carried on. We stopped for drinks at the halfway point in a town called Buon Ho, which had a simply gorgeous church on its main road.

After that break it was back to more jarring cycling on the road from hell, until we hit the 22km to go marker, when the highway smoothed out and allowed us to absolutely crush the remaining distance. I rolled into BMT around noon, covered in sweat and dirt, and my rest day began - no more riding until Saturday. Obviously, plans for the rest day involved the Colonel. (I actually think KFC is pretty disgusting, but when you've eaten almost nothing but noodles and rice for three weeks...)

After everyone arrived and scarfed down some chicken, we got our hotel sorted out and began to decompress. 400km to go, but now we rest.

H2H Day 20: Under the Burning Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 08:40:00 +0000

This day started much differently from the others. Hanneke has a Belgian friend who runs a foundation that supports an orphanage run by nuns outside of Pleiku, and we decided to visit before we left town. So, we woke up at the crack of dawn and followed a van driven very slowly by a nun who had just earned her driver's license. The orphanage is situated within the beautiful grounds of a coffee plantation where the nuns live, about 10km outside of the city.

The orphanage takes in children from the minority groups who live in the Central Highlands, the very poor and very rural part of Vietnam we've been in for several days. Over the decades these minority groups have been shouldered out of their traditional areas by the dominant Khinh ethnicity, while the government has tried to assimilate them, sometimes forcefully, into mainstream Vietnamese culture. As a result the people of these groups (there are 54 in Vietnam) are, by and large, poverty-stricken and very disadvantaged. The nuns care for roughly 100 children between the ages of 3 and 15. Some of them have parents, but they are either too poor or too busy working in the fields to care for them. Others are foundlings, and some have simply been abandoned. One of the minority groups follows a tradition of burying newborns alive with their mother if she dies during childbirth, and there was one set of adorable twin girls who were rescued from such a fate. The nuns provide the children with Vietnamese language lessons, since every minority group has its own language, in the hope that they will be able to someday attend school, where everything is in Vietnamese.

The facility was awfully impressive, spotlessly clean and very well-maintained. There were well-stocked classrooms, dormitories, a kitchen, a room where young pregnant women who have been rejected by their community are given safe haven, and a pharmacy. A bakery and a dentist's office are also being built. The children looked happy to be living there.

Jan, who heads the foundation that funnels donations to the orphanage, had flown up from Saigon the previous day, and delighted us with gourmet cheese, fresh bread, fruit, and jam for breakfast.

We also met the head nun, the shortest woman in the world.

I'm hoping to do a story about the orphanage for AsiaLIFE, because I found it to be a highly unique place. You don't hear very much about the minority groups of Vietnam, and there are some political sensitivities surrounding the topic. The cultures of many of these groups are being swept aside in the country's rush to modernity and apparent ethnic homogeneity, but at this haven the children are allowed to hold on to their traditional ways, while being eased into Vietnamese society. As Jan put it, the nuns are working to build a bridge from traditional minority culture to modern Vietnam.

After a great early morning at the orphanage it was time to hit the road, and it was a sweltering day. Tom S., Phong and I galloped out front at a blistering pace for the first 35km, when we stopped for a drink break to allow the rest of the group to catch up. As we were about to get going again I realized I had a flat, my first in a while, probably thanks to the rough road surface. We were also riding into a stiff headwind, which made downhills feel like flat sections and flats feel like uphills, the entire time. There was a lot of sweating going on, and three people also crashed off the road. Fortunately, injuries were minimal. After 115km, our longest day yet, of no shade and no relief from the wind, we rolled into Ea Drang, our last stop before our second, and final, rest day. Our arm and leg tan lines are reaching epic proportions

H2H Day 19: Too Easy

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 15:40:00 +0000

After putting in as much time on a bike as we have since leaving Hanoi on the 3rd, riding 48km is like child's play. Though, to be sure, the bumpy road surface we were on today was frustrating, since it kept us from being able to go as fast as usual. Still, I kept up a pretty quick pace and ended up completely alone out front. I stopped at a nuoc mia (sugar cane juice) stand about 14km from Pleiku to wait for some other riders to catch up, but after sitting there for 30 minutes without anyone showing up I decided to just plow on.

Pleiku is a pretty big place, and we didn't have clear directions to the hotel, so I stopped at another cafe on the main drag, and after a bit Rhona, Dana, Corey, and Hanneke finally showed up. We set off in search of the hotel, and after asking numerous people for directions and going basically in a big circle we found the place. It was just after noon, and I felt as if I had barely ridden. Everyone else gradually arrived, but the mechanical problems that have been plaguing the group the past few days continued. Three people weren't even able to ride today, there were three punctures, and there was one broken chain. Many of the bikes being used on this ride were used last year, and the mileage is definitely taking a toll. Luckily, after some repairs, it looks like everyone will be able to ride tomorrow.

The next ride is a 100km leg from Pleiku to Ea Drang, both of which may ring a bell for those of you with some knowledge of the Vietnam War. Pleiku was a major American base, and the city's airport used to be a U.S. airbase. The area around Ea Drang was the site of the first major battle between U.S. forces and the NVA, not to mention one of the few set battles of the conflict. The book and subsequent movie We Were Soldiers highlights the experience of troops who took part in this deadly encounter.

Tonight several of us went to the restaurant of a 4-star hotel in town that serves Western food, and I blew $15 stuffing myself on a meal that included porcupine hot pot, which was actually pretty delicious. Hopefully this translates into a lot of energy tomorrow, because even though the ride is mostly downhill it is long, and it will probably be quite hot. We're also visiting an orphanage in the morning, and I hope that will be as much fun as the kindergarten visit before the ride was.

Finally, I'd like to once again share the link for our team blog, we've had some good posts recently: http://www.h2hrfvc.blogspot.com/

a common sight in Vietnamese cities: birds for sale on the sidewalk

H2H Day 18: The Weather Clears

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 00:42:00 +0000

This was an absolutely gorgeous day of riding, with the 60km from Ngoc Hoi to Kon Tum going by in no time. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was an azure blue, and the rolling hills of this part of Vietnam made for exciting cycling. This was the best weather day we've had yet, although a stiff crosswind towards the end made the final hills a bit more difficult than they should've been. The rest of this post is going to be visual, since I'm running out of adjectives to describe hills and rivers and rice paddies and small towns.

First up: Dana let me use her GoPro helmet cam today, so below are two videos taken with it. Watching them almost feels like watching a video game, but they will allow you to see what things look like here.

Finally, here are a bunch of pictures from the beautiful day.

view from hotel room in Ngoc Hoi

the hotel had 3 adorable, flee-ridden puppies

1/3 of the way there

the riders from the U.S. agreed that this looks like the American West

arrival in Kon Tum

sunset from the hotel balcony

Today we have a ridiculously short ride to dispatch with: 48km from Kon Tum to Pleiku. Piece of cake.

H2H Day 17: Heaven and Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 14:42:00 +0000

This turned out to be a day of striking contrasts, and one that more than earned its nickname of "Evil Bitch Day #2", with the first half of the ride making our lives utterly miserable and the second half making for an amazing finish as we rolled into Plei Can, also called Ngoc Hoi.

Getting out of bed at 6am was a struggle, since mine was very comfortable and I could already hear the rain outside. The weather obviously hadn't improved since the day before. However, after a good breakfast we were in good spirits, especially Tin and Phong, who roped me into handling their "Batman and Robin" (don't ask who is which) photo shoot on the marble statues outside of our hotel.

We stretched as a group in the strengthening rain, accepted that we would be getting soaked again, and set off. There was confusion almost immediately, thanks to the signs that indicate how far you are from a given town. We thought we had a 104km day ahead of us, but the first distance marker said 116km to Ngoc Hoi. The next marker was even more bewildering - 122km. I simply gave up on guessing how far we would have to ride.

The steady rain, combined with a steep climb up a large hill right off the bat, made for hateful cycling. At such an elevation it was also cold, and I was cursing life after just 10km. I kept pounding on, and halfway up one climb I inadvertently rode onto the concrete that sits between the road and the drainage ditch and instantly lost all traction. I went down on my hands and knees, opening up small cuts on my legs, only adding to the awful nature of the day.

After squirting dirt away from the cuts with my water bottle I got back on the bike, but this was a low point on the ride for me. I was soaked, tired of riding uphill, tired of the trucks bombing down the other way, and freezing. A little higher up a thick mist descended, reducing visibility to no more than 30 feet. On rain-soaked mountain roads with little preventing you from sliding off into a ditch or off a hillside, this was extremely dangerous. When tour buses started appearing out of nowhere coming from the other direction with no headlights on, I simply started walking. If a vehicle came down out of control I would have a better chance of running away than trying to cycle out of the way while slowly climbing. I found Jim, Sandra's dad, who works on an oil rig in the North Sea off of Scotland, in the dense fog and we walked together for a while.

The road finally started to look as if it was starting to curve downward, so I got back on the bike. After dropping in altitude a little bit the mist suddenly disappeared, much to my relief. I then hit a huge, curving downhill, which I attempted to tackle, but I stopped and started walking again after a few corners. My brakes were absolutely gone, and I simply didn't envision myself making it to the bottom without having a huge crash. At least the rain had stopped.

I got to the bottom, and while crossing a bridge I noticed there was a huge difference in weather on either side of the mountain. Where we had just come from was dark and foreboding, while where we were going was much lighter looking.

I then caught up to our lead support van, where a number of riders were huddled for warmth while snacking. We had about 65km to go, and we were freezing. It was completely dry now, but we were drenched, even though we had all worn rain jackets, and the wind was picking up. Plus, we had just finished our scariest, and arguably most difficult, riding of the entire journey. I changed into a dry long-sleeve UnderArmor shirt and immediately felt far better. After scarfing down some food we rolled onwards, and planned to stop at a town 15km away for lunch.

I was approaching a blind corner while going downhill when a tour bus started coming around the corner in the other lane. Another one suddenly appeared in my lane, trying to overtake the slower bus. There was absolutely no shoulder on the road, so I had nowhere to go. Luckily, the buses were far enough away that the one was able to pass before getting to me, but I still gave the driver a heartfelt one-finger salute, and I really felt like kicking him right in the face. We all saw similar things today, large vehicles roaring past other large vehicles with horns bellowing, and I simply don't understand what these dumbshit drivers are thinking. They drive with no logic, no signs of intelligence, and no regard for other human life. It isn't only bus drivers that do this, but they command the biggest things on the road, and I'm amazed they don't kill more people. It's as if every time they drive they have to set a new record for whatever route they are taking, and they are absolutely terrifying. Someone here needs to do something to educate drivers, and fast. It's no wonder Vietnam's roads are so deadly.

After an awesome lunch we had 50km to go, and the weather was suddenly amazing: bright sun, a refreshing breeze, no rain in sight, and the temperature was probably at least 15 degrees warmer. All of the moisture we had dealt with earlier was bottled up behind the mountains we had climbed and then descended. As a result, that last stretch was just fantastic. The road was good, and the rolling terrain allowed you to carry momentum from going down a hill into going up one. I distanced myself from the group, although Dana and Corey were ahead of me since they hadn't had lunch, and reveled in the dramatic change in attitude that the improved weather brought.

Since my brakes were so awful and my hands were in so much pain from pumping the handles to no avail that I decided to just stop using them, since I'm confident enough in my bike handling skills in the dry that I can take curves at a pretty high speed. I also weigh enough to keep me planted through the turns, so I just blasted down every hill, often reaching 45-50kph, passing surprised motorbike drivers. On the last downhill before reaching town I managed to hit 60kph, which was great fun. This may well have been my favorite two hours of riding of the entire trip so far.

I met up with Corey and Dana around 4:15 and we sat down at a food stall to wait for everyone else. As the rest of the riders showed up we all agreed on one thing: the day felt as it if had been two; the frightening, brutal deluge of the morning could not have been any different from the sunny romp through the hills of the afternoon. In the end we had cycled about 114km, and could not have been happier to be faced with a measly 60km the following day. We're also getting closer to things we recognize from Saigon, with coconuts and banh xeo available on the street here in Ngoc Hoi. Hopefully that will be the last of the severe weather...

H2H Day 16: The Road Fights Back

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 13:40:00 +0000

We had another short ride today, just 57km from Thanh My to Kham Duc, but the weather looked foreboding when we woke up. Things only got worse as we rode out of town, and everyone was soaking wet from the chilly, steady rain within minutes. This day would be a fairly violent one.

I was riding just behind Joe about 15km into the trip when he drifted dangerously close to the concrete gutter on the right side of the road, lost control on the slick surface, and went down in a heap. The crash looked nasty, with his bike sliding into the gutter and his chin smacking onto the road, but fortunately he only suffered a few small scrapes, in addition to getting covered in mud. Incidents like this illustrate how we've really coalesced as a team over these past two weeks, as several riders immediately stopped and began administering first aid.

The miserable weather precluded me from taking many pictures, but I did get one of a cool waterfall.

Things got really interesting about 12km from Kham Duc. I was working my way up a hill and noticed that the cars and trucks up ahead were stopped. I could see our lead support van as well, and one of the drivers flagged me down. I thought there may have been a mudslide, since we were on some pretty steep terrain and the ground was soaked. However, he informed me that there had been an accident, and told me to start walking my bike. I ambled past a few more vehicles, rounded a corner, and was confronted with the carnage: a car was overturned on its roof in the ditch, and farther up a truck was laying on its side, completely blocking both lanes. Glass and plastic body paneling was strewn across the road. I didn't see any injured people, so I guessed it must have been a while since the crash, and there was quite a crowd of people gawking at the mess.

I had to carry my bike along a grassy ledge around the accident before I could get back on the road, and started cycling again. Sites like that are frightening, and reminded all of us of how careful we need to be on this ride, especially on mountain roads in treacherous weather conditions.

On a more positive note I knew there wouldn't be any motor vehicle traffic coming up behind me, since anything bigger than a motorbike was stuck, allowing me to feel a little safer for the remaining 12km. Sadly, this also meant our support vans, with all of our belongings, were out of reach as well.

I saw another dam along the way, and after seeing two yesterday it is obvious that this is hydropower country.

The low clouds and mist did make for some awesome landscapes. This one looks straight out of 'Lord of the Rings'.

I was the fourth person to arrive in Kham Duc, and we started gathering at a restaurant while ordering a steady feast. We were all soaked to the bone and freezing cold, but there was no way to dry off or warm up with all of our stuff in the vans held up by the crash. As the others streamed in I found out that two more people had gone down on the road: Dana managed to get her tires stuck in an expansion joint, and when she tried to get out she wiped out. Corey, her dad, was right behind her and crashed when he hit her fallen bike. Fortunately, once again, both were fine.

The van drivers called us about an hour after we started eating and informed us that the road had been cleared, and they were on their way. We were overjoyed, sorted out the hotel rooms, got our stuff, and reveled in the pleasure of a hot shower. Day 16 was over, thankfully, but tomorrow we have a 104km ride, probably in similar weather conditions, so we'll see how that goes.

ALSO: If you'd like to donate to H2H and help poor Vietnamese children, please visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride. Most of the other riders have received donations during the ride, which provides motivation and reminds them of why we're doing this. I haven't gotten a single one, so I'm lookin' for some love. Come on people!

H2H Day 15: Into the Clouds

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 09:10:00 +0000

Here is a map to give you a rough idea of where we started the day:

Since the day's ride from P'Rao to Thanh My was only 54km, we decided to give ourselves 90 extra minutes of sleep to make up for the two brutal days we had just been through. This felt nice, though we didn't end up leaving town until almost 11, thanks to the machinations of the conniving hotel proprietor, a miserable woman who took revenge for us calling her bluff when she tried to overcharge us for food by holding our passports hostage until we paid various arbitrary charges she felt like tacking on. She even called two police officers in, apparently thinking that would intimidate us. It's a real shame when everyone in a town treats you well and then one person ruins it all as you're leaving. P'Rao was pretty though.

We took off into the rolling hills outside of town and soon came upon a dam and an incredibly scenic lake.

Is it just me or do my legs look freakishly muscular?

After climbing for a bit a few of us stopped to get some pictures of the hills, just as a group of 10 overweight Australians on a guided motorcycle tour from Nha Trang to Hanoi pulled up. Can you say lazy?

manpower v. horsepower

I ended up ahead of everyone as we tore down a long descent. On the nearly empty road I took up as much space as I needed to take corners at speed, and after catapulting downhill I rode onto a bridge that gave an up-close view of a sizeable dam under construction. Like the tunnels of the previous day, I was surprised to see such a large-scale infrastructure project just down the road from hamlets made of packed dirt and wooden shacks.

After the dam it was time for the day's last climb, which the warm, humid air made harder than it should have been. At the top it was satisfying to look down at the bridge I had crossed earlier and see how far I had climbed.

Passing to the other side of the hill for the descent into Thanh My brought about a dramatic change in weather: the temperature dropped, the clouds were essentially at eye level, and we all got wet on the downhill, not from rain but simply from the water vapor in the air around us.

looking down on the last stretch of road for the day

Going down the steep hill in the wet was a bit hairy, but it meant that we had exhilarating blasts into town two days in a row. I met our lead support van at the bottom, where we were soon joined by Dana and Corey. We decided to eat before heading to the hotel, and as we sat down two 10-year old boys came up, introduced themselves, and began pointing to objects and asking how to say them in English. This was harmless enough until one walked up with a rusty meat cleaver and asked "What's this?"

Over the next 30 minutes almost everyone else joined us for some awesome food, and after a while we retired to our hotel. Next up: a very eventful 57km cycle from Thanh My to Kham Duc.

H2H Day 14: Over the Hills and Far Away

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 15:41:00 +0000

Day 14 was one of three described as a "Bitch Day" by the group who took part in the first H2H three years ago. 104km long, with two major climbs thrown in for good measure. The leg from A Luoi to P'Rao would certainly test our mettle, perhaps even more so than the previous day. It turned out to be another stunning in day in terms of weather, scenery, and degree of difficulty. We also passed the halfway point on our journey in terms of distance.

We set off at about 8:30 on an absolutely beautiful morning, with cool air keeping the bright sun from becoming too hot. After 25km of mostly flat riding we reached a fork in the road: one direction led to the Laos border a few kilometers away, the other led into the hills of Vietnam's rugged Central Highlands.

take a left to go to Laos

After a brief uphill we encountered a short, steep downhill. I had replaced my rear brake pads that morning, but I still didn't have much stopping power, and at the bottom I managed to hit a pants-wetting 54kph (34 mph), which was both awesome and terrifying.

Tin starting his descent

the view from the top of the hill

The first major climb of the day began shortly after that downhill blast, and I ended up in a group with Quinn, Tin, Johnny, Anna, and Kirsty. We worked our way up together, sharing snacks and water, stopping a few times for pictures of the awesome surroundings or rest, and overall the climb was longer but much more gradual than the first ascent of the previous day. The road was also in beautiful condition, probably because it is nearly traffic-free, which made for much easier cycling than the cratered mess of day 13.

Rhona gettin' to it

Kirsty and Anna doing work

By this point the sun had warmed to its full potential, and we were all soaked in sweat by the time we reached the top of the hill. We continued along the twisting road, just two kilometers from Laos at some spots, and passed through two totally unexpected tunnels, an odd sight in such an undeveloped and remote part of the country.

47km into the ride we hit a dramatic 10km downhill. I had tweaked my brakes a bit after the first harrowing descent so they were functioning a little better, but I still wasn't able to prevent myself from careening down the road, although my hands were sore from pumping the brake handles so much by the time I hit the bottom. I went so fast I lost my group and stopped at a picturesque overlook. To my dismay, I could see that the second climb would be starting as soon as the descent ended. You can see the road curving back up on the left side of the below picture.

I caught up with Corey, Dana, Chris and Tom O., who were resting on a bridge. We mounted up and started taking on the day's last major climb.

The riding was hard, and I came to understand the ways that going uphill can mess with you psychologically: when you are climbing and there is a curve ahead, you hope against all hope that the road will flatten out once you round the corner. When it ends up being more uphill, you are deflated. Perhaps even worse is when you reach a stretch of road going downhill around a corner and you think that yes, YES, the climb is over!, only to round the next bend and have to go straight back up. After cycling over 1,000km since leaving Hanoi we're all in good enough to shape to conquer these climbs, but after putting your body through so much the mental aspect becomes just as important, if not more so, than what you are physically capable of doing. Fortunately, clouds had appeared around mid-day and lessened the impact of the heat.

After what seemed like an eternity the road finally started curving back down, and we planned to stop for lunch in a town that, according to the distance markers, was approaching. There hadn't been anywhere to stop for food or drinks for the first 60+km, and we were all famished.

Sadly, the place turned out to be a phantom: there was a small, incredibly poor-looking settlement located across a rickety bridge; not the type of place that has a restaurant. This crushed us, and at a fork in the road Tom S., Dana, Corey and I shared some snacks to get us through the final stage of the day. I also drew a penis in the road with some chalk, the agreed upon sign we use when the direction we're supposed to go in at an intersection isn't completely obvious.

Shortly after that we got a call from Rhona, who was ahead of us with Joe, informing us that there was a town a little further down that had food. Elated, we hurried to this shop in the middle of nowhere which sold one of the best bowls of pho I've ever had. My opinion may be a bit biased since I had just ridden 80km on nothing but peanuts and candy, but the stuff was simply amazing.

There was a 1km-long climb straight after we ate, but once that was put behind us it was downhill the rest of the way. After 20km of cruising past shocked locals, looming hills, verdant forests, and a rushing river, Tom S., Dana and I rolled into A Luoi around 4pm, happy to have one of the hardest days of the ride behind us.

It had been an eventful one for many of us: Tin hit a dog (at low speed), Joe killed a chicken that ran in front of his wheel, and Tom O. walked the final 8km to town after he got a flat and didn't have anything to repair it with. However, we now knew what we could handle, and were looking forward to a needed short ride - a trifling 54km - the next day.

Since I haven't mentioned this in a while, don't forget to check out our team blog: http://www.h2hrfvc.blogspot.com/.

And if you'd like to donate to H2H, please visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride.

H2H Day 13: Beauty and the Beast

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 15:13:00 +0000

This was actually our twelfth riding day, but I'm going to call it day 13 for continuity's sake.

And it was a hard one. We gathered in a riverfront park in Hue to get a group shot in our swanky new cycling shirts, where we attracted several picture-takers, and headed out of the city. My gears were now working properly, thanks to the efforts work of the man at the bike shop.

The ride was a planned 72km to A Luoi (Though it ended up being longer for some us. I'll get to that.) through the rugged hills southwest of Hue. There were going to be a couple of rough climbs, which no one was excited about.

Joe and I got off to a quick start in the humid, cloudy morning air, and made good progress through the rolling terrain of the first 30km.

About 36km in, we hit the first serious hill - a viciously steep, but relatively short, climb that left a lot of people (including me, sadly) walking up parts of it.

Most of the rest of the riders caught up with us shortly after we started resting at the top of the climb, and after snacking we all headed off. A lengthy, steep downhill ensued, which was pretty scary for me at some points: my rear brakes were worse than ever, and I couldn't use my front ones too often for fear of having them lock up while sending me flying over the handlebars. Luckily traffic was light, so I was able to cannonball down parts without worrying, but the road was heavily pockmarked, making for some bone-rattling bumps. By the time I got to the bottom my water bottle had gone flying once, my seat had been knocked loose several times, and my rear wheel was hot from so much braking.

Right when I hit the end of the descent, I nearly demolished a boy on a bicycle who decided to swerve all the way across the narrow road without looking as I was barreling towards him at close to 40kph. I started yelling and swerved into the dirt beside the road and narrowly missed a massive collision, which the kid would have definitely gotten the worst of.

We got lunch as a group at a place where several people worked on their bikes, some with the help of locals, who were speaking a minority group language.

By the time we finished eating and bitching about the climb, the sun had come out. We still had one major climb and about 25km to go. It was going to be a hot finish, much different from the damp cold we had gotten used to farther north.

Some shots of people working there way up the long climb.

twisty

We were all sweating profusely within minutes of starting to climb, and we savored the descents and the shady parts for the cooling properties. I actually developed a love-hate relationship with going downhill - it cooled me down and allowed my legs to rest, but my barely-functioning brakes made it dangerous, as did the rough road. This part of the country has a lot of problems with landslides during the monsoon season, and the impact of these events was evident in the cratered road surface. In fact, last year's H2H group wasn't even able to do today's leg. They rode in November, during the wet season, and a strong storm struck the Hue area while they were there, leaving this road impassable. On a beautiful day like today, though, the vistas were magnificent.

The climb, though, was brutal. All but three of the 19 riders have bog standard Chinese-made road bikes with no more than 14 gears, which simply aren't enough for hard climbing. The other three have mountain bikes with over 20 speeds, allowing them to get into a low enough gear where they can spin the pedals quickly while still making good progress. The rest of us don't have gears that low, so we are stuck with crawling our way up a hill, trying to stand up out of the saddle to climb, or walking. Psychologically, it's hard to justify staying on the bike when you're inching up at 6 or 7 kph, just over walking speed.

A bunch of us stayed together to share the pain, which definitely helped, and we were making progress, although stopping for pictures slowed things down too.

Joe, Tom S., Tin, Phong and I being BAMFs

With 10km to go we all figured the end of the hill had to be coming soon. There was one last sharp climb that I simply had to walk on (while singing along to The Killer's "All These Things That I Have Done"), when the road started to flatten out. I got back on the bike, and blasted down the other side while passing a distance marker that said A Luoi was 8km away. This is where things started to go wrong.

At the intersection where we rejoined the Ho Chi Minh Highway the drivers of the lead van directed us to go left. I caught up with the riders who were in front of me and then pushed ahead with Phong. The road was mercifully smooth, and a mountain range (actually in Laos territory) sat to the west, below the fading sun. After riding for 10km without seeing anymore signs for A Luoi (or any hint of a major town), I told Phong I thought something was wrong. We asked some villagers where the place was, and they pointed back the way we had come and said it was 26km away. Right as they were saying that I got a call from Kirsty saying the drivers had sent us in the wrong direction. At least the scenery was nice.

We turned around and roared towards A Luoi in a pissed-off fury, knowing that the mistake was partially our fault. We tore past the other people who had gone the wrong way, passed everyone else in town, and collapsed in front of the hotel, absolutely spent after the climbs of the day. We had done 98km, 26 more than expected. It was 5:30, by far the latest we had finished a day of riding. I am going to sleep HARD tonight. Tomorrow, the torture continues with a 103km ride over more major hills to P'Rao. We'll also be passing the 1,000km mark, our halfway point and a major milestone. Make the pain worth it by donating to H2H!: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride

H2H: On the Twelfth Day We Rested

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 16:39:00 +0000

Today was a much-needed day of R&R in Hue (pronounced 'Hway') before we head into the hills and mountains of the Central Highlands south of here. We've cycled nearly 1,000km since leaving Hanoi on the 3rd, so we are very nearly at the halfway point of H2H.

Hue from my hotel room's balcony

the weather was beautiful

We also got our H2H cycling shirts in today. They are awesome:

Unfortunately, I didn't actually get all that much rest. Last night we took advantage of having a day off of riding by partying in Hue's backpacker area. This included a cyclo race (which I won handily, partially because one of my competitors fell over), streetside drinking, and dancing at a late-night bar called Brown Eyes. (These photos are courtesy of Tin Mai.)

victors

"WE'RE SO SORE!"

This went on until about 2:30am, and our bodies have gotten so used to waking up at 6:45 every day that I was up by 8:30 this morning. Tin, Phong and I shared a room, and we decided to greet the morning together.

Since we were still pretty tired, but couldn't get back to sleep, we decided to declare today "Pamper Yourself Like a Bitch Day". We'll be abusing our bodies on the road over the next two weeks, so it was time to get treated well. The first stage of this was a trip to the spa of a 4-star hotel, where for $15 we were able to use a sauna, steam room, and jacuzzi; and get an hour-long massage. I've never gotten a massage in Vietnam, largely because it is so difficult to find parlors that don't offer 'happy endings', which I find rather sleazy. I thought a fancy hotel would be a safe bet, but before my masseuse started working on my stomach she tapped my penis and asked "Massage there?" She was apologetic when I said no, and I was disappointed that I couldn't escape this stereotype even in a high-class place. Still, the massage felt damn good, though I had to struggle at one point to hold in a fart.

Later that evening we went to a random salon to get a facial, manicure, and pedicure. We had a feeling the place isn't frequented by men, but the young women working there were accommodating. We even ordered beer and food at one point. I also got my hair washed, and Phong and I got H2H painted onto our three middle fingernails.

Properly exfoliated and relaxed, we declared the day a success. I had also planned on eating a huge amount of food while in Hue, to build up for the coming hills, and I think I succeeded. Between Monday afternoon and Tuesday night I ate a big Indian meal; a cheese platter with a baguette; a plate of grilled duck with rice; a KFC combo meal; a bowl of pho; a mushroom cheeseburger; two banh bao; one and a half pizzas; and bun thit nuong. Satisfaction.

the fruit of the Colonel's labors

In the morning we return to our normal routine, and this will probably be our most difficult leg yet: a 72km ride from Hue to A Luoi that includes an altitude gain of just over 1,000 meters (3,000+ feet), so we will be doing a lot of climbing. Bring it on!

IF you still haven't donated to H2H (and seriously, what are you waiting for?) visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride to do so. I painted my freakin' nails for this!

H2H Day 11: Relaxation awaits

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 09:50:00 +0000

Before beginning H2H this year we all agreed to buy a Hawaiian shirt to wear the day we rode into Hue, and everyone followed through. After stretching we began the 87km ride out of Cam Lo all decked out in shirts that were a wide range of hideous.

morning stretches

first group shot of the trip

The day after this leg would be the first of our two rest days, so everyone was looking forward to getting to Hue, which is a pretty developed city that has a supermarket, KFC, and Western restaurants. We all powered through it, mostly on truck-heavy Highway 1, essentially without stopping; though I did take a two-minute break at one point because my ass was starting to feel like I was being prison raped. There's only one thing worth mentioning from my ride: About halfway through I was riding on the hard shoulder, trying to stay out of the way of the buses, when I saw two woman with their backs to me walking on the edge of the shoulder. There was space to pass on the left, so I started to at a pretty high speed. Right as I was about to go past the women, the one on the left suddenly stuck her left arm out, smacking me in the shoulder as I blew by. She obviously had no idea I was coming, and I probably scared the shit out of her. It didn't hurt me, so hopefully her hand was alright.

We had decided to stop at a major intersection just outside of Hue to regroup, since going through the city to our hotel would be a little tricky. I pulled up to a drink stand a little after Phong, who had arrived first, and got a green tea and a Huda beer while we waited for the rest of the riders to show up. Of course, all of the locals were staring; it's not every day that 18 Westerners in colorful shirts appear out of nowhere on road bikes.

After hanging out for a bit and gathering up everyone we rolled into Hue's historic Citadel in "amoeba formation" and then made our way across the Perfume River to the city's backpacker area, where we would be staying. The sun was shining for the first time on the entire ride, and we were in good spirits.

taking over Hue

While we all wanted to immediately shower and eat, the first order of business was actually finding a bike shop and asking the mechanic to work on some of our most serious mechanical issues. A worker from our hotel said he knew where to go and hopped on a crappy single-speed bicycle to lead us there. After riding at a pace that could best be called "lollygagging" for a few minutes we pitched up to a run-down shop with a man welding a chair together out front. Unimpressed, we asked to be taken somewhere else.

We were then led back into the Imperial City to an actual bike shop, where we left our bikes to be serviced. By this point everyone was dirty, starving, hot and tired of being on the road, but we were finally able to hop into taxis and go check into our hotel.

I showered and immediately had a massive Indian meal, which was exactly what the doctor ordered, and then took a nap. Day eleven was over, as far as cycling was concerned, and we now had about 40 hours of free time.

H2H Day 10: Remembrance

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 15:17:00 +0000

We've now covered 800km since leaving Hanoi, thanks to a 100km ride from Dong Hoi to Cam Lo today. Dong Hoi was a very pleasant city, where we stayed on the breezy beach and were even able to get some Western food at a hotel restaurant. We got breakfast near a little park and headed out towards Cam Lo.

I didn't take any pictures on the road today, since there wasn't really anything new scenery-wise. Fortunately we seem to have finally left the wet weather behind, as today was the second completely dry day in a row, though the sky is still fully overcast. We probably won't have any clear days until we get south of the mountains below Hue.

We were back on the HCM Highway, and there was practically nothing in the way of food along the way. I was on my own and wanted to stop for lunch about 50km into the ride, and the distance markers said there was a town approaching. Sadly, the "town" turned out to be nothing more than a couple of shacks, so I kept going, hoping the town that was 17km away would be more substantial. It was, and we all gradually pulled in and had a great rice lunch after riding for 70km straight without any sustenance.

After resting for a bit we all mounted up and rode 10km further down the road to the Nghia Trang Liet Sy Truong Son, a massive cemetery holding the remains of thousands of Vietnamese soldiers who fought in the American War. We're approaching the former DMZ, and this part of the country witnessed some of the fiercest fighting of the conflict. Brutal battles such as Hamburger Hill and Khe San took place not very far from here.

Row after row of headstones greeted us on the well-kept grounds. Some had fresh flowers and incense placed in front of them, while others looked more neglected. Plaques with thousands of names engraved on them stood to the side, and the atmosphere was quite poignant.

It also felt rather surreal walking among the tombs of the dead, knowing that these young men had been killed by American helicopter gunships, bombers, and bullets. Every country focuses on its soldiers who die in combat, while largely ignoring those who perish on the other side. Seeing first-hand that these deceased combatants have families, just like their counterparts in the U.S., definitely made me think.

We lit some of our own joss sticks and paid our respects to the dead, acknowledging that war is terrible for all involved, no matter which side you are on.

A short while after getting back on the highway we hit a steep descent, and right as I reached the bottom at high speed, a cow bolted into the road in obvious panic right in front of me. My blood ran cold, and I had absolutely no idea which direction the beast was going next. I swerved left, hoping it wouldn't run me over, and fortunately it turned right, allowing me to pass safely. This is just one of many examples of how quickly what is happening in front of you can change on the roads here.

We had taken our time at the cemetery, and it was already late afternoon by the time we arrived in Cam Lo, a town none of us were looking forward to staying in. Phong, who did this ride last year, described it as "a truck stop full of AIDS and dead hookers". I wasn't particularly pleased at the prospect of sleeping in a room full of blood-stained bedsheets with body parts stuffed into the walls since I have an open wound on my left leg, but this place is nowhere near as greasy as expected. Though I am currently listening to the caterwauling of some truly awful karaoke being sung at the cafe next to the hotel, and I did just find a dead centipede on my covers. This is a small price to pay though, for tomorrow we reach Hue, where we will have the first of our two rest days. Hooray for a decent hotel, Indian food, and pizza!

ALSO: If you haven't donated to H2H yet and would like to support our cause, please visit: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/michaeltatarski/bikeride. We've raised almost $35,000 for poor children this year.

H2H Day 9: Epic Nature

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 15:18:00 +0000

Day nine, a 96km ride from Dong Le to Dong Hoi, was an absolutely fantastic one: completely dry (though still cloudy), and it featured by far the most astonishing scenery yet. We're currently in the narrowest part of Vietnam, approaching Hue, and the geography is jaw-dropping: mountains, karsts, rock formations, rivers, farmland. The first 50ish kilometers were on Highway 12, and for the better part of an hour I struggled to decide when to stop and take pictures and when to keep going. My tired mind can't find words to adequately describe the scenes at the moment, so I'll let a few pictures do the talking:

After taking in the surroundings I arrived at the intersection of Highways 12 and 1 a little bit after Tom S., and we waited for the others to arrive for lunch. I had com tam, one of my favorite kinds of street food back in Saigon and something we hadn't seen until today. The food in the north is far different from the area I live in, and our meals on the first couple of days were fairly grim. These past few days have seen a marked improvement in food quality and variety, but we're all missing our southern favorites right now. Things will keep getting better as we continue.

The weather had warmed up considerably from the previous day, and I decided to take off the long-sleeve UnderArmor shirt I've been wearing under my cycling jersey ever day. We merged onto noisy Highway 1 and headed out for the remaining 48km. I found a higher gear that I thought had stopped working and was able to really get moving; averaging about 33kph (just over 20mph). I felt good, and the kilometers were dropping away quickly. I then passed the first distance marker for Ho Chi Minh City, a psychological boost and a tangible sign of our progress.

I blew through the remaining distance to Dong Hoi and caught up with Phong just outside of the city. We pulled up to a well-stocked supermarket just after 1pm to get some supplies (aka booze and snacks) and waited for everyone else. Like many businesses in Vietnam, the store had a speaker system set up outside, and once the staff noticed us gathering outside they decided to start blasting ABBA and a bunch of other awful music from the 80's. For some unknown reason ABBA is massively popular here, much to my chagrin, but I sucked it up and joined in on an impromptu dance party:

Unsurprisingly, the sight of a bunch of white people in spandex dancing attracted some attention.

"WTF are those Westerners doing?"

Phong then decided to climb on top of our lead support van to really get things going, but the drivers were not pleased and told him to get off.

After dancing/cool-down stretching to a few songs, we rode the remaining short distance to our hotel and cleaned up. We've now covered exactly 700km (435 miles), and are just two riding days away from our first rest day, in Hue, which is sure to be full of Western food and heavy drinking.

My body is holding up well. My slow pace during the first two days had me concerned, but after discovering that it was bike problems that were holding me back, and then solving these problems, I've been flying. I expected to be one of the fastest cyclists, and I have been these past few days. (Not that it's a competition...but come on, it kinda is.) All of my joints, tendons, and ligaments feel fine. My knees are pain-free, something that can't be said for everyone else, and I can tell that I'm getting stronger on the bike. The only physical issue is the wound on my left leg that I got in the post-wedding haze of day five: trying to keep it clean on these dirty roads has been a hell of a task, but I think it's starting to heal. Knock on wood, this clean bill of health will remain untarnished as we move forward.

H2H Day 8: Into the hills

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 14:21:00 +0000

The eighth day of the ride was another short one: 55km from Huong Khe to Dong Le. The morning was the wettest since leaving Hanoi, and the first hour or so of riding was just miserable.

The misery was only exacerbated when I was nearly pasted by a motorbike: I was cruising at around 30kph when the driver of the moto in front of me indicated with her arm that she wanted to turn left. She was already going quite slow and I didn't want to brake, for two reasons: I would lose my momentum, and my brakes were barely working; so I started moving to the oncoming lane to go around, since there was no traffic in sight. I thought the passenger on the moto was looking right at me, but as I moved left they started turning across. I still wasn't braking, since I assumed they would realize I was still coming and stop, but they just kept inching across the road, leaving me with a shrinking amount of space to squeeze by. I was about to run off the left side of the road when I started shouting OI! OI! OI! and somehow managed to slip by the moto with no more than a couple of inches to spare between my right leg and their front tire guard. I turned around and called the women "FUCKING IDIOTS!", but they just looked shocked at the fact that someone was passing them. Sometimes the obliviousness of drivers here is astounding.

I continued on, a bit shaken, trying to work out in my mind how the physics would have worked out if I had actually hit the moto, and none of the results were pretty. The scenery was quite pretty though, sadly the fairly heavy drizzle made me nervous about taking me camera out, so I didn't.

About halfway in we turned off the HCM Highway and onto Highway 15, which was fantastic. The sky finally started to dry up, allowing us to start getting some pictures.

on the way to Dong Le

the road followed the national railway for a while

soggy

The surroundings on this road were even more beautiful, and eventually we hit a fairly steep and lengthy hill. At one point the right lane was completely covered in mud, and a big truck just happened to coming down the left side, forcing all of us off of our bikes. Going down the opposite side of the hill was a bit hairy, again since my brakes were terrible and I was on thin tires on a wet road surface. I made it to the bottom safe and sound though, and began riding through small villages over gently rolling terrain.

The people of these villages were extremely surprised to see foreigners coming through their neighborhood, and the reactions they registered ranged from shocked to awed, dumbfounded, befuddled, and excited. Some children shouted greetings while others stared in obvious confusion; men shouted what I guess were greetings; teenagers asked "What's your name?", as if I had time to respond at riding speed; and one woman even said "Welcome to Vietnam," under the impression that we had just gotten off Flight 417 to The Middle of Nowhere earlier that day.

The scenery on this day was the best we had seen yet: misty hills, farmland, lush forests, and the railway slicing through it all not far from the road.

We pulled into Dong Le after a pretty easy ride and settled in. This town was full of VERY curious locals: a large crowd of children gathered as we cleaned our bikes in the hotel parking lot, and when I went to try to get some food the women serving it simply stared at me and laughed for a few minutes. I do enjoy greeting kids and all of that stuff, but feeling like a zoo animal does get annoying sometimes. I'm also frustrated by the fact that my Vietnamese is so limited, since no one in these places speaks any English. Smiling and nodding your head can only go so far.

arrival in Dong Le

This turned out to be a pretty good day, not counting the wet morning and the near-serious-injury incident, and after a good dinner I was ready to tackle day nine, a much longer ride.

H2H Day 7: A Quickie

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:28:00 +0000

The 54km trip from Pho Chau to Huong Khe was pretty uneventful, and very short compared to the previous day: almost exactly half the distance. Once again it was a wet, grey morning...a sentence I'm getting tired of typing. I was out in front for a while before Tom S. passed me for good. There was some more nice scenery, although it wasn't really any different from what we had seen during the previous few days: rice paddies and misty hills.

I rolled into Huong Khe around 10:45, a little over two hours after setting off, and found Tom. We tried to find our hotel and failed, so we got some food and set our bikes by the road so people could see us as they arrived.

The town was actually quite pleasant, with a scenic lake I didn't get any pictures of and the nicest hotel we've stayed at yet. Our completion of the day's leg also meant we had officially finished one week of the ride, and logged about 550km on our bikes. Nearly everyone had a bump or a bruise to prove it, and most bikes were experiencing some sort of problem, though the severity of those problems varied widely. We were in good spirits, although some improved weather would have REALLY lightened the mood, and we were looking forward to another shorter ride to Dong Le the following day; a ride on which I nearly died.

H2H Day 6: Going solo

noreply@blogger.com (Michael) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 10:06:00 +0000

the neighborhood around our hotel in Do Luong

Our sixth day, a journey from muddy Do Luong to Pho Chau, was supposed to be 85km long - 25 on Route 7, and another 60 on the Ho Chi Minh Highway. The ride ended up being much longer, much to our chagrin.

The seven of us who had crashed the wedding the previous day expected to be hurting from the obnoxious amounts of shots we had taken, and I did indeed wake up with a headache. Fortunately I had passed out for a few hours as soon as we got back from the shindig the previous night, and that had certainly helped ease the worst of the pain. Although my left knee was looking a bit gruesome after falling in a drunken haze after all of the shots of whiskey and rice wine. I simply slapped a band-aid on it and got ready to go. By the time we set out into the dreary weather (same as it has been every day) my head was feeling fine, although I hadn't really had breakfast, so I wasn't sure how long my energy reserves would last.

The answer ended up being about 25km - I had to stop for a snack at the start of the highway, since I was feeling drained. A few people stopped as well, and after a few minutes Sandra and I set off together. We soon passed a kilometer marker that said "Pho Chau - 80km". We both wondered what the hell was going on - this meant the day would be at least 105km, not the expected 85. There wasn't anything we could do about that, so we continued on. Attempts to draft off each other were thwarted by the wet and the mud, since riding behind someone meant you were constantly sprayed by their tire wash. After eating some mud and catching a few pieces in my eyes I decided to abandon riding with anyone.

After traversing some rolling hills and looping descents I came out on a flat stretch with rice paddies fanning out on both sides. I stopped to take a few pictures and was joined by Rhona, Dana, Corey, Phong, and Sandra.

Look mom, I'm still alive!

After taking off again I quickly pulled away from the others, and eventually passed Tom S. and Anna, the two people ahead of me. I then passed the lead support van, and was completely on my own. I got into a steady pace and started cranking out the kilometers. I thought we were going to stop for lunch as a group with about 40km to go, but I was already within 35km of Pho Chau when I got a text saying most of the people had stopped to eat about 55km from town. I knew this meant I was well ahead of everyone else, and I ended up being on my own for hours. There weren't any towns or villages worth mentioning along the way, so there was nowhere to stop for food. I had no choice but to power through the day without having lunch.

The road was gorgeous: smooth and well-paved, with awesome scenery, and little traffic. I'm pretty sure I saw more livestock than motor vehicles in the course of the day.

at some points we were less than 10km from the border with Laos

the empty highway

I was a little nervous about riding so far ahead of the rest of the riders since I've been cycling naked in terms of equipment: no food, and no gear except for a pump. If I had gotten a puncture, crashed, or had some other mechanical problem I would've been in trouble. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed this solo ride: the fresh air and solitude of the highway was a godsend after the time spent on hectic Highway 1 the previous day, and I was able to just keep going without worrying about anyone slowing me down. The mist of the morning had also cleared, so the cycling was dry, although the views were still a bit obscured.

I got a lot of confused looks from people I rode past. They didn't seem sure of what to make of a white guy riding a road bike all by himself. With about 10km to go the mist returned, just in time for a cruel, unnecessary hill right outside of Pho Chau. I had already put in roughly 105km, so I crawled up the hill and rejoiced during the descent down the other side. I pulled into town just as seemingly every kid within a 20-mile radius was returning to school, and I ended up riding down the main road with approximately 50,000 kids, all on bicycles of their own, staring at me.

I couldn't find our hotel at first, so I went and sat near the roundabout right at the entrance to town waiting for other people to show up. Two kids walked up to me and asked me for money and left when I ignored them. After waiting for a about 30 minutes with no riders in sight, I decided to have another go at finding the hotel. I did, but the people there spoke absolutely no English, and I couldn't get the point that I needed lots of rooms across. Fortunately, the leading support van then showed up with Anna just behind, and the drivers explained what was needed. Other riders then began arriving, and we were soon sorted with rooms, although the last of the group showed up about two hours after I had arrived.

Pho Chau was another pretty undeveloped town with little in the way of food, and there wasn't much to do. My band-aid had come off my knee during the ride, so my wound was looking pretty filthy. I got that cleaned up and hit the hay. My bike computer read 111km traveled that day, a massive amount. We discovered the next day that we had taken a wrong turn that added the 20+km to what we originally thought we would be dealing with, but I had actually rather enjoyed it. The road was a joy, the scenery great, and the terrain pretty manageable. With a short day up next I was feeling good.

On my own in the middle of nowhere

One of the most common obstacles on the HCM Highway: cow shit