Dalat
Trip Start
Apr 20, 2003
1
18
24
Trip End
Jun 10, 2003
Dalat,
Vietnam
Monday, June 9, 2003
I overslept through my alarm, but still managed to make it on the 7am bus
from Nha Trang to Dalat with a hurriedly purchased plain baguette and bottle
of water. The anti-b's and Strepsils (made in Thailand) are kicking in, with
the throat starting to get much better. This whole "be your own doctor"
thing is a breeze.
During the first few hours of the 7 hour ride we stopped at Po Klong Garai
Cham Towers. Basically a pagoda on a cactus covered hill. The main interest
was where the Vietnamese Airforce planes were - you could hear fighter jets
screaming around, as this town it must be near a base. It made it seem
rather spooky considering I've been reading the story of Kim Phuc ("The Girl
In The Picture"), who was a 9 year old caught in an 'astray' Napalm attack
by plane in the Vietnam War. Hope nothing was to go astray from these planes
today.
Back in the bus for another couple of hours, with a stop at the Ngoan Moc
Pass for photos down into a valley. It wasn't the best spot to stop (which
was about 500 metres further along) but it was obvious that the driver knew
the stall owner here - perhaps they were family. Hence everyone's after half
a buck, so we stopped where he thought we should. The spot, perched on the
edge of a major cliff, included a magic bamboo frame with plastic sheet
covered loo. I think this one is my favourite "weird place to put a dunny"
spot so far on the tour.
Arrived in Dalat by 2.30pm to threatening clouds and low 20s temperatures.
Dalat has the feeling of a large village rathewr than a Vietnamese city. Its
a mix of Swiss and French style chalets with your traditionally thrown
together Vietnamese building. Its a unique looking place. I found a hotel
just prior to the drizzle setting in for the rest of the afternoon. After
lunch (middle of the mountains in Vietnam and I eat a Burrito...), I went
for a walk around town (finally) wearing the virginally-new rain jacket I'd
brought with me.
I strolled into the market area. The market stalls were great. Some
amazingly gigantic Avocado's amongst other things. I bought a half bottle of
Dalat Wine (went the dry white) to give it a go. A bargain at $1.60 for the
bottle. The lady at the stall made me try some of her other produce (mostly
lollies) so I paid a little extra. The drizzle persisted until sunset, when
it started to fine up.
I wandered back into town for dinner wearing the (also virginally-new)
polarfleece jacket that I'd lugged across SE Asia. Dalat gets cool after
dusk, unlike the coastal areas which sit in the mid 20's all night. Good
thing it does get cool here because carrying this flipping jacket has been
driving me nuts. At least now it was worthwhile. I got to sample some of the
red Dalat Wine with dinner. Its similar to wearing sandpaper underwear
inside out. Rough as.....
GOOD MORNING VIETNAM BUT WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP, 1930's PALACES and WHY IS
A LOCAL LADY POLISHING MY BALLS?
I got woken up at 5.48am by a mysterious phone call, with no one there.
Perhaps "the State" was checking up on me. Once awake in Vietnam its
impossible to get back to sleep, as the light is bright and the locals all
get up at 5am. Hence its noisy very early. The locals do get a siesta
between about 11am and 1pm so its not that bad for them.
After a good breaky I headed to the local bank, which opens at 7am. Now that
is service... In the bank, female workers sit behind the counter counting
huge piles of Dong with no security. Armed robbery could be the industry of
the future here in Dalat.
I hired a motorbike and headed off round the mountains. Thankfully the
traffic in Dalat is more respectable than Nha Trang. I headed off out past
the Dalat Flower Gardens amd into the hills to Ho Than Tho Lake. Its a
(nothing too special) lake with pine trees, horses, horseshit, cowboys
(someones got to ride the horses) and busloads of local tourists. I didn't
stay long before heading off again through hamlets and market garden
villages to Dalat Train Station.
The Station building looks like a gingerbread house. Its a Puffing
Billy-esque setup as the train only goes up the track to another small
village for tourists. Hence I didn't stay long there either.
I headed back around the main lake and past the small Eiffel Tower lookalike
(approximately 40 metres high). Dalat was once known as the Paris of Vietnam
apparently, hence the tower. Of course as the French are not now 'Soup de
Jour' here in Vietnam, they have turned it into a radio and satellite tower
and painted it red and white. I then went past the Dalat Cathedral out to
Hang Nga Gallery, known as 'The Crazy House'.
As the name suggests, its an avant-garde (hey thats like another one of
those French type words isn't it, so its like de ja vous and stuff) place.
The buildings are shaped like enormous tree stumps with animal carvings with
red lights for eyes in individual guest house rooms that look straight out
of Alice In Wonderland. The designer is very zany and its a very
'uncommunist' place, but as her father was a major player for the Communist
Government, the building is tolerated as a tourist attraction. Weird.
I then cruised to Bao Dai's Summer Palace. He was a King of Vietnam in the
1930's and the palace was built for his family during that time. It has not
been changed since, with 30's decor and furniture and that strange "weird
old next door neighbour" smell to it. The furniture had "please do not sit"
signs all over it, but that didn't worry the locals, who didn't give a rats
and lounged about the place taking photos of themselves lying on the King's
bed. I did also get to see the King's old throne, of the porcelain kind.
Alas the "Sanitized For Your Royal Butt's Protection" sash had been removed.
Then it was back to town for lunch and darn it for something different, I
hit the golf course. The Royal Dalat Golf Course is a ripping 18 holer in
fantastic condition. Its expensive to play, except after 2.30pm when the
give a great discount. The price includes hire clubs, balls and a caddie.
My caddie's name was Lan. She was about the height of Tattoo from 'Fantasy
Island' but could throw a golf bag over her shoulder better than I could.
The Wilson clubs weren't bad but took a bit of getting used to, hence the
game was up and down a little. Lan was very helpful, telling me "125 yards"
(ie. how far to the pin), "inside right" (ie. putt the ball towards the
right edge of the cup) and "don't hit it in the water" (ie. don't hit it in
the water). When you whacked it on the green she'd rush up and repair the
plug mark (on the rare occasion that happened), mark the ball and give it a
good wipe, and line it up for you. Rather nifty I reckon.
On the 7th hole Lan said "you are very lucky, it usually rains in the
afternoon". The clouds started to roll in on the 8th and by the time I
chipped onto the 9th green it was bucketing. Before putting out the hole we
ended up in a small hut by the green waiting for the clouds to clear. After
20 minutes it was obvious they weren't going to, so I quickly putted (47 for
the 9 holes) and we started heading back over the rolling hills to the
clubhouse prior to some even heavier rains approaching. Stupidly the 9th
hole is actually the furthest hole from the clubhouse, so it was about a 2km
walk.
About 100 metres into the walk, the lightening and thunder commenced.
Although she was carrying metal clubs, I figured Lan was safer than me
considering she was a third of my height. I on the other hand, being 6'2",
on the top a treeless-hill on a golf course and thus the natural choice for
god to strike with a bolt of wattage, was in strife. Lan told me to run for
the snack bar hut on the 8th tee while she headed for another place on the
course where someone could ring the clubhouse and send a cart. For the
record, I offered to carry the clubs. Being the tireless worker that she is,
Lan said no and trundled off, leaving me to "run Forest run" slightly
huddled (if I was lower then the lightening may not get me), dripping wet,
sprinting down the fairways to the 8th tee snack hut.
Just as Lan and the cart arrived, the rain stopped. So I teed up the 17th
and whacked it down the middle, similar to the Priest playing "the perfect
round" in Caddyshack. Alas the heavens opened again so it was into the cart
and back to the clubhouse. Game over.
Of course the problems didn't finish there. I was at the golf course. It was
still piercing down. And my transport was a motorbike. The ride back to the
hotel was damp to say the least. Its times like this when I do firmly
believe I'm a flipping idiot.
