28th August

... we had no chance of making it to Da Lat before nightfall.

So, we didn't.

Wet through and utterly tired, cold, hungry, thirsty, sunburned and sore all over, I prised myself off my seat with a squelching suck and wandered around bow-legged and sideways on the pavement for a while. With the light fading and really not wanting to risk being murdered for my bike (would anyone really do that?), we agreed to head for the nearest acceptable hotel and wait out the night.

But where were we, and were there any recommended hotels in the area? Some more pointing and gesturing of the map in the vague direction of some locals suggested we were in Bao Loc, and all the guide said about Bao Loc was that it was a place for 'Easy Riders', whatever that meant. So, with no hotels recommended, we headed for the nearest one, which was handily positioned 20 ft away, and checked ourselves in. The receptionist spoke some English (it is now being taught in schools apparently, so if in doubt speak to a younger person...) and after a shower and a change into some non-drenched clothes we headed off to a real Vietnamese restaurant (sort of). Some sort of chicken dish (the complete opposite of boneless) with a healthy portion of rice and a few Saigon Exports later I couldn't keep my eyes open, and headed back to the hotel. Not before being chased around the restaurant (well... shack) by some wild cats and wondering if I was going to add a rabid bite mark to the long list of blisters, mosquito bites and scratches that had been accumulating around my ankles.

I escaped unscathed (externally anyway), but spent a very unrested night fretfully trying to roll into a position that wouldn't put pressure on any extremities that were excruciatingly painful with the worst sunburn I've ever had. Oh, and there was no air conditioning! But then, what do you expect for a $5 hotel room?

Morning arrived at approximately 5am, the sound of the never ceasing trucks, lorries and buses emphasising their presence with a chorus of "my horn's louder than your horn" in all kinds of tones. We headed to breakfast at the recommendation of the receptionist (so, not much hope there then) and found the place on the side street where a huge tin bowl of gruel (yes, gruel) was festering away.

"2 please!", came Tris' enthusiastic morning-person-ness. "Er..." came mine. It turns out, however, that gruel is rather tasty. Or, at least, the broth, greenery, noodles, and what looked like tiny (rat?) sweetmeats were. There was also an enormously suspicious looking floating chunk of liver. Or congealed blood. Or paint. I strategically declined to sample it, based on the incontrovertible fact that my chopstick skills simply weren't up to the challenge. Tris, on the other hand, thought he'd man up and try some.

Bad idea. Several minutes later we were back in the hotel room and Tris was dry retching. Fabulous!

A while later, we packed up and headed off towards Da Lat, a very doable distance of 120km, after yesterday's rush hour and lack-of-roads epic of 175km. We bought face masks (pink - thanks Tris) and headed off. The roads were good, but long, and in places absent (but, you will be pleased to know, busily being built). The weather stayed pleasant, but hot, all the way there, though as we climbed and climbed the winding mountain passes the air cooled considerably to something approaching normal.

Da Lat itself is very French in origin and influence. It is host to an enchanting festival, is cool enough to grow fruit and vegetables you can't get anywhere else in Vietnam, and is also home to the Crazy House, an architect's dream. Apparently.

Unfortunately, we arrived off-season. Which meant that the festival wasn't going on and there was nowhere selling snakeblood vodka (not snakebites, as I kept saying automatically). I did have the most delicious Vietnamese-style sweet and sour pork though, which almost made up for it. I am coming to appreciate the simplicity of boiled rice. Healthy, hearty. Delicious.

I felt I needed some driving gloves to keep the heat off the back of my hands for future drives north, so bought some for the outrageous price of $1.50 in the market. Then we headed for the Crazy House, which was... crazy! Odd rooms you could apparently rent for the night with a massive eagle-egg for a fireplace and an eagle carved out of the (plastic) rock above it, walkways seemingly to nowhere and structural foundations and supports painted and moulded to look like animals - a favourite being the giraffe, completely anatomically detailed. In every way.

A few drinks and a couple of games of pool (Bob 2 - Tris 0) ended the day victoriously.

Tomorrow - Nha Trang!