Start of the Journey, last week

The last four days have been spent on the back of Mark's motorbike, a 250cc Honda veteran. LA Custom, circa 1981... does many kilometers to a tank of fuel and only occasional repairs.

I should explain that Mark shares with me, along with the crew of Star Treck, a certain thirst for adventure; to boldly go where no (Westerner) has gone before, (figuratively speaking.)

To put it simply; we actually enjoy the journey, although the concept of 'scenic route' seems to be incomprehensible to everyone we meet. We're interested in seeing how people live away from the city; from the humblest dwelling to the newest mansion.

So we set off with the intention of exploring areas we'd never seen but also with an arrangement to meet some of Mark's former students later in the day in Long Khanh, about 50 km away as the crow flies but 80 km by the scenic route . We were in no hurry, stopping for lunch at one of the many roadside cafes.

Our Tourist map being very basic is lacking any of the finer points that you might expect, such as minor roads, towns and villages and at some points we were not sure where we were, due to a chronic shortage of any signs to indicate the name of the town, never mind the road!

"You must take this road" someone directs us when we show them on our map where we are headed. That's another thing; I don't think anyone we meet has any idea of how to read a map or of the distance between places. We inquire suspiciously whether the road they indicate leads to the Hanoi Highway, which must be the busiest, noisiest and most dangerous road in Vietnam, "No, we don't want to go that way" we explain, but they still insist that's the only road to take us to our destination. That's one of our 'helpful' guides pointing the way!

So we rely on our wits to find the smaller country roads that only local people use, which usually turn out to be smoother and quieter, apart from an occasional bad patch where the surface has been destroyed by flash floods or simply lack of repair. It's much like the country roads at home; when motorways take all the heavy traffic, the old A roads and even smaller roads are much more pleasant to follow, through small villages and unspoilt countryside. These roads are even used to spread out rice to dry hay or other crops; here it's being raked over before being carefully swept up and bagged before dark.

We pass through villages quiet in the midday heat or full of children coming out of school in their smart uniforms; the slim and beautiful young girls in their silk Ao Dai's. Cruising through cool forests of rubber trees in perfectly straight rows, (Planted after the indigenous forests were cut down to make money after the war) and plantations of banana palms, the air is cool and refreshing; a far cry from the mayhem of major roads !

Of course, because of the combined weight of two people and my baggage, (no, really, it's not that much!) the bike creaks complainingly at every pothole, along with my back, necessitating fairly frequent stops where I extricate my stiff frame with difficulty and make for the nearest shelter for refreshment. There we usually make friends with the young waitresses and, in this case, their mother, who were delighted to practice their very rudimentary English and have a good laugh at our feeble attempts to speak Vietnamese!

We finally reach our destination just before dark and catch up with Xuan (pronounced Shwan) at the English school where she works and are pounced on by the head teacher who parades us through all the classes before we are allowed to leave. We are given a warm and noisy reception by the young students, who have never seen westerners before. After that, another few kilometers to meet two other former students from last year, Canary and Pharoah who give us a late meal and arrange accommodation.