Easy Riding

The Jakarta Post   |  Sat, 05/24/2008 9:45 AM  |  Reporter's Notebook

Riding pillion on the back of a motorbike provides a different view of Vietnam’s famous highlands. Christina Schott puts on her helmet and sits tight to see the sights.

“That’s the highland!” shouts Thong climbing the last pass. Up and down we roar along the snake-like Ho Chi Minh Highway. Dense forests shoot past us and the sunlight turns the river beside us into a silver snake. I have almost forgotten that only a few hours ago we have still been in a totally different Vietnam.

At a travel agent in the ancient coastal town of Hoi An we came across a poster of the Easy Riders – local guides on motorbikes who offer tours to the Central Highlands. “Adventure away from the masses”, promised the hand-written placard. That was what my husband and me were looking for: To discover Vietnam without following all the time the marked-out tourist routes on Highway No 1.

“The highlands are different,” told us Do Van Thong who dashed onto his Taiwanese motorbike just minutes after our call. “Everything is more extreme, more authentic. Only after you have been up there can you really understand Vietnam.”

Here are the highlights of our five-day trip with two drivers to Nha Thrang.

Day 1

It is the morning of our departure and Thong introduces us to Vinh. Vinh doesn’t speak English nor is he an Easy Rider: He rides an Indonesian moped and usually runs a café. “High season,” is Thong’s excuse, “everybody else was already fully booked.”

Vinh beams and signals that we can wholeheartedly trust his moped.  In seconds, our backpacks are wrapped in plastic and tied up on the bikes.

Two hours later, when we pass the vast plain of the Vu Gia River and approach the hazy mountains behind, I have found a relaxed position and managed to fix the helmet so that it does not fall over my eyes after every bump. The road winds higher and higher through endless pineapple plantations. Suddenly Thong stops at an inconspicuous crossing.

“That’s the Ho Chi Minh Trail,” he says, pointing to the concrete thoroughfare in front of us. I am disappointed. No shaky bamboo bridges or mysterious jungle tracks: Since 2001, the legendary supply path of the Vietcong has been turned into a highway strong enough for a company of tanks to roll over it.

A short time later, however, we see the first suspension bridge. And feel it: On swaying wooden planks dangling on wires, we cross a 30-meter-deep gorge. While I feel sick by just walking on it, the locals nonchalantly traverse it with their motorbikes. The bridge is the only way to reach the village of Ede, home to one of the many ethnic minorities in the Central Highlands.

Since they collaborated with the Americans during the war, they were long neglected by the Vietnamese government. In 2001 and 2004, the montagnards – as the French colonialists called them – launched rebellions against the sell-out of their homeland. It is only in the past few years that Hanoi has extended the highway and worked to set up electricity for all villages.

We roar further south along the river cloaked in luxuriant vegetation. Repeatedly, Thong pauses to guide us to small waterfalls or other adventurous suspension bridges. We hardly meet people, but from time to time a cow, a dog or a chicken darts across the road.

Then the rain comes. Wrapped in plastic coats we almost vanish within the dense mist. While slithering over the third landslide on the bending pass road, I start praying to not have a breakdown at here of all places. Somebody must have heard me: The sky clears up and in front of us emerges the small town of Dak Glei.

Tired and cold, we hope for nothing more than simple accommodation for the night. But Thong presents us with a tidy room with hot shower and satellite TV: Like every Easy Rider, he has special deals with local lodgings.

Day 2

Next morning, fairy-like yellow light wakes us up. We start the day with a strong Vietnamese espresso. A little boy sitting at the next table chokes on his omelette when he sees me. Obviously, foreigners are still a rarity here.

Our second stage is a dream. We glide along shimmering rice terraces and bright green cassava gardens. Behind pink bougainvilleas, we get the first glimpse of a traditional Bahnar assembling house whose tall roofs from straw and bamboo wickerwork remind of Indonesian tribes. All along the road, women chop and dry cassava – we almost feel intoxicated by the sweet odor.

Behind the small town of Plei Kan the Ho Chi Minh Highway turns dusty and bumpy. “We are in the Charly Hills now,” Thong says and points to the mountains, which were shaved barren by Agent Orange during the war. From now on, we are constantly reminded that we travel through a country born from war: every now and then we pass by a victory monument, a war cemetery or propaganda posters of the communist party.

In contrast, in the quiet town of Kontum, we visit a beautiful wooden French Church dating from 1913. It is Sunday and a long queue waits for confession. Later, we meet some of the confessors again in a Bahnar village. Freed from their sins, they slurp wine from fermented cassava and sugar cane.

Day 3

The following morning, the sweet smell of cassava has turned into the sour aroma of coffee beans that are laid out to dry in front of every house. At Nhon Hoa village, with both her feet in the coffee, grandma Bup invites us to visit her plantation. She must be over 80 – and although we cannot communicate with words, we understand each other perfectly. She takes me by the hand to the coffee and pepper trees and shows me the rattling peeling machine.

On the long ride to Buon Ma Thuot we pass by never-ending coffee estates. Thong apparently wants to present us all monocultures of his country and pauses occasionally at a pepper or a rubber plantation between all the coffee trees. In the meantime, my face has turned into a glowing red mask with white rings printed by my sunglasses around the eyes. My bottom and thighs begin to revolt painfully against the ever-same position on the bike: Today we cover 250 kilometres. Vinh is so proud that his moped made it so far that he invites everybody for a beer.

Day 4

Buon Ma Thuot, Vietnam’s coffee capital, is a lively market town. Despite our heavy limbs, we roam the bazaar stalls for red dragon fruits, dried deer meat and spicy beef meatballs before having them for a hearty breakfast. Today, we finally leave the Ho Chi Minh Highway that continues further southwest to Saigon. We follow a bendy road through gentle hills and rice paddy fields, maneuvering among cowherds and flocks of geese. When we at last arrive at the Lak Lake, a rainbow welcomes us in the land of the Mnong.

I have heard before stories about these legendary elephant hunters. From far away, we see elephants wading through the stirred-up lake. At the village of Buon Yun, though, our fascination fades somehow when we face a regular elephant riding station and – right in front of it – a bunch of tourists. For the first time since we left Hoi An, when intermittently came across an Easy Rider, we are face to face with a whole travel group.

That night, there is a blackout. At candlelight, we sit close to the lake and discuss with origins and languages with our two drivers. Vinh has organized a dictionary and explains in hesitant, but touching words, how unusual this trip feels for him as well.

Day 5

On the last stage, sudden wind squalls almost blow us from the road. “That’s what I meant by extreme,” Thong shouts, “if the sun shines up here, it really burns, and if it’s stormy, than it really blows.” I just manage to nod with gritted lips. Hours later, when we leave the last pass behind us, the sky clears up. A mild breeze from the sea reaches us. After five days and 900 kilometers we ride again on Highway No 1.

By entering the beach promenade of Nha Trang, I feel like being just awoken from a dream. Everything we experienced the last few days suddenly seems unreal. Of course, we could have made the same tour by car. But then we would not have sensed the wind in our faces, not smelled the coffee, not swayed on hidden suspension bridges. It would have been much more comfortable, but far less adventurous.

Now I understand Thong’s words at the beginning of the tour: The highland is different. One has to feel it oneself to understand.

 

Info:

Easy Riding with Mister Thong
Bookings can be made via:
Phone: +84-510-864931, Mobil: +84-914-245217 or
Email: thongtours@hotmail.com, mrthongtours@gmail.com

3- to 5-day trips from Hoi An over Kontum, Buon Ma Thuot to Nha Trang or Da Lat or from Hoi An over Aluoi, Khe Sanh to Hue or the Demilitarized Zone
Costs: US$40 per day (includes gas)

Booking of other Easy Rider Tours
at many travel agents in Hoi An, Da Lat and Nha Trang:

Ban Phong Band Ve Du Lich
Booking Office – Transport Service
50 Bach Dang, Hoi An
Phone: +84-510-910452
Mobile: +84-913-499180
Email: duch22000@yahoo.com

 
Where to stay in the Central Highlands:

Family Hotel
55&61 Tran Hung Dao, Kon Tum
Phone: +84-60-862448
Mobile: +84-905-316599
Fax: +84-60-865748
(AC, hot water, Sat-TV and Minibar)

Khach San Hotel Thanh Binh
24, Ly Thuong Kiet, Buon Ma Thuot
Phone: +84-50-853812
Mobile: +84-913-437812 (Manager Tan Quy)
Fax: +84-50-811511
(AC, hot water, Sat-TV and Minibar)

Chi Nhanh Du Lich Ho Lak
Thi Tran Lien Son, Ho Lak
Phone: +84-50-586184
Fax: +84-50-586343
(AC, hot water, a stay in a traditional longhouse can be arranged)

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