VietNamNet Bridge – I remember thinking as I crashed into a drunk man’s motorbike at 60 km an hour on the highway, “I’m going to die.”  But some how I was just fine, I flew over the handlebars, skidded down the road, and I stood up without a scratch.

I fixed my motorbike and an hour later I was on my way to Ha Tinh.  I read later that sixty six people died on the second day of Tet. I just thought “well, that was lucky.”

I’ve been to war in Afghanistan, climbed mountains in a handful of countries throughout the world, and been forced to sleep in a tent at night for five weeks in the Canadian Arctic. However I think my experience driving from Hanoi to Saigon during Tet was one of the most dangerous I’ve ever encountered, if not one of the most interesting. And eleven days after leaving Hanoi I was back in Saigon, somewhat malnourished and thin, terribly sunburned, and extremely tired. But I was happy to be in a house that I didn’t have to leave the very next day.  The ground wasn’t moving anymore.

Before leaving Hanoi some people told me that I shouldn’t go, it was too dangerous.  But I really wanted to go, and strangely enough when they told me not to go I was only encouraged to do so. I had a couple good bye parties, drank Vietnamese Apple Cat wine and politely cheered to everyone’s good health (as they do in Hanoi). So, two days before Tet, I dressed warmly, put on my rain coat, and drove my bike in the South to Saigon.

I spent three wet and cold days on the road until I reached Ho Xa, a small village near Quang Tri. When arriving in that small village near I stayed there for two days. I needed two days just to be able to understand the central Vietnamese accent.  

The weather cooled down by now, not like the perpetual cloud cover over Hanoi.  As is Vietnamese tradition during Tet I spent the time there partying, eating, drinking Vietnamese “medicine wine”  and Huda beer, and meeting friends.

After two days I felt I had to leave because all of the food and drink were making me too fat and happy and if I didn’t leave now, maybe I would never leave.

In Hue the weather unexpectedly changed and I didn’t react, I should have been prepared for that when I noticed the coconut trees. I think I was distracted by how different Hue was to everything I’ve seen in Vietnam so far, so I didn’t cover up my face from the sun.  

So by the time I got to Danang at my friends house my nose was blistered and red.  However I was lucky enough to have friends in a lot of the towns I went to, and I had an amazing dinner of Hue food before going on to Hoi An to sleep for the night.

Hoi An was really beautiful, I was once again surprised, but it was definitely a place for couples and I was starting to feel lonely in my hotel in the night.

It had been a few lonely nights already, eating big meals, watching a movie and then sleeping.  So in the morning I got out of there and took off for Quy Nhon.

I was extremely shocked by the beauty of the country side, the beaches and mountains from Hoi An to Quy Nhon. In Quy Nhon, I noticed that the accent was getting much more unfamiliar from my Hanoi accent. When I asked how to get to the German restaurant the lady in the hotel said “dể” instead of “zễ” as I was used to hearing.

Leaving Quy Nhon and attempting to drive to Da Lat was pretty rough, a long drive.  I hadn’t been driving that fast since my accident on day two.  The land started to change, much more dry, the roads wider, less people.

When I took a small and barely used road to Da Lat I noticed it was the first time in over one thousand kilometers that there wasn’t a house every ten meters.  I followed Google maps, and for the second time in my life it led me astray.  

This was truly a desolate part of Vietnam, there was hardly any people, just some people living in very small old style houses. Once it started to get dark I thought I’d better stop, fortunately I had a tent and some food and I slept in the forest that night.  

There was some massive golden orb spiders bigger than my hand there, but I didn’t mind; that meant that people usually didn’t come around and I would be left alone for the night.  

In the morning I remember going to a cafe after camping and asking for water. The people there were much more friendly than I was used to, almost too friendly.  They had a lot of questions.  Listening to their accent, vocabulary, and way of speaking I guessed I had finally reached the South of Vietnam, but strangely enough they insisted that they were central Vietnamese.

In the morning, I drove another hundred kilometers and into Da Lat. The temperature was warm, however a bit windy, a little bit chilly. But nothing compared to Hanoi; I didn’t have to put my gloves and scarf on to keep warm.

I drove around until I found a decent hotel. The owner was a wonderful kindly woman.  She told me to watch out for snakes when I was walking around at night, she said that poisonous snakes came down from the trees and bit people.

The last day, the last ride. It was maybe the longest, but the roads were so large and very few people compared to the North and Central that I drove feeling safe and confident, making good time. I did loose about 40 kilometers when following Google maps, third time being led astray.

I was looking for a way into district seven from outside the city, I was led to the highway and told to turn back because it was only for cars, which made my annoyed. I was getting tired of cars, and especially buses, bullying me around the road.  

Buses driving directly at you expecting you to move, because if you don’t move you will be killed.  

Sometimes I would just slow down and then both parties would have to stop.  I did see a number of police stopping the buses, but unfortunately it seemed as soon as the police let the buses continue they drive just as fast and as dangerous as before.  

Cars were also sometimes like this, menacing and threatening the smaller motorbikes to get out of there way.

I took the trail back to the Saigon Bridge and then turned south to home.  Finally home in Saigon after being away for two years.  I was tired, I just finished driving about three hundred and fifty kilometers, and 1500 kilometers before that, but the journey was over.

I had seen the different variations in the Vietnamese language, habits, and behaviour from all over Vietnam and for me that was the best part of the trip.

My old neighbors were there, welcoming, they had arranged a Vietnamese style party. It was nice to see the old faces, to see the manner in which they drink beer and talk when they are happy, I had forgotten how they did things in the South and in all the excitement I was quickly revitalized.

Jesse Peterson

VOV