Wednesday, March 30, 2011

I can feel the wave come and crash into me

So there we were, walking barefoot through e wilderness in Vietnam searching for a waterfall...  That doesn't seem all that much of a bright idea.  Back to that later.

Mui Ne seems to be the Vietnam version of a beach resort town.  Judging by the abundance of signed written in the Cyleric alphabet, its a resort town geared mostly towards Russian visitors.  After the grueling bus ride from Saigon, we pretty much just wanted to find a soft place to lay down.  However, being Southeast Asia, it wasn't to be found. The small "resort" we stayed in was a family business consisting of maybe a dozen rooms and four bungalows on the beach.  

The family that kept the inn was amazingly friendly, and their limited menu made for great breakfasts, $.50 beers, and fresh fruit shakes.  But the beds were only slightly softer that the tile floors.  Oh well, for $25 a night we can make compromises. 

The beach that fronted the property was being reclaimed by an angry sea.  Why we thought swimming and boogey boarding in 6 foot swells was a good idea I'll never know.  But we tried, and Grace has some wonderful pictures of us being slammed about.  Pictures as recent as Last year show a beach 20 or so feet wide, but the waves over the last few days had removed most of that beach, and buildings built to the edge of the sand were starting to loose patios and stairs.  Some seemed to think it was lingering effects from the tsunami, or possibly the result of the recent megamoon ( the last full moon was the closest to the earth as it's been in almost 20 years and was believed to cause unusually high tides). Whatever the cause, I certainly hope the beach makes a come back.

On Saturday, we rented a couple jeeps (complete with drivers) to take us on a little excursion to the sand dunes near Mui Ne.  On the way, we stopped to see the Fairy Falls.  In a sort of unexpected bit of fun, we were told to remove our shoes for the hike up the stream.  And that's how I ended up barefoot in the jungles of Vietnam. 

One of the more annoying things about traveling is there some one always wanting to help you, for a fee.  In the case of this walk, an unplanned and mostly un wanted tour guide latches on to you.  And in the end, they expect to be compensated, if only for walking beside you pointing at a plant and saying something about it that's nearly unintelligible. 

So we continued our trek up the ravine, which was mostly red from the sand but also had spots of yellow and white that set up nicely.  Just when I was thinking this waterfall was a myth, there was a sign pointing at a trail up through the trees that proclaimed the falls were 40 meters.  And for some reason, walking barefoot up the trail beside the rice patties seemed a completely reasonable idea.  And thus we found the falls.  

Back at the jeeps, we headed for the white dunes with a quick pull off at the fishing village.  This part of Mui Ne is the more traditional Vietnamese setting.  Hundreds of boats floated out in the harbour, all a very colorful blue and yellow.  

The area inland looked exactly like the way I didn't expect Vietnam to look.  It more reminded me of the Australian bush or the pictures you see of Africa around the serengetti.  Sparse scrub bushes, red sandy soil.  It seems that every movie set in Vietnam involved jungles and rice paddies, no deserts.  But yet, here we are.

(look for pictures when I get back home)

Once we arrived at the dunes, we paid the rental fee for the "sleds" to slide down the dunes.  If you picture the Sahara, or the dunes that C3PO and R2 landed upon on the planet of Tattooine, yu get a pretty good idea.  After the workout of climbing to the top, the small piece of plastic that made up the sled looked like a fun way down.  Unfortunately, it was a bit slow going.  What had to be a potentially life threatening luge down the steep dune was exactly not that.  At the bottom, the thrill for me wasn't sufficient enough to conquer the exhaustive climb back up.

And now that we are covered in sand, and head back to go to the red dunes.  They were less impressive, and having checks the sand sledding of the bucket list, most the group settled to just look upon them from the cafe across the road with a cold Tiger in hand.

Exhausted from upstream hiking and dune climbing, not mention the layer of sand that seemed to cove us head to toe, we returned to the resort for showers and then dinner.  Continuing a theme of eating ocean predators, I had barbecued barracuda with ginger and rice, with a desert of coconut and durian ice cream served in a coconut.  We adjourned to Joe's bar for more music and beers.  But the exhaustive day caught up with most the group, leaving only Evan and I to stay out.  That's when we made a wonderful discovery. 

The bar/club next door was able to provide us with dirty martinis.  We had to convince the bartender that we wanted them really dirty, not just a little scoop of olive brine,  and then some people watching. Again, the bar was populated mostly my Russians.  Some of which were model gorgeous.  One of which seemed oblivious that her halter type dress and shifted and her entire breast was exposed. Her boyfriend seemed to busy necking with her to notice either.  Ahhh cheap thrills.

Sunday afternoon saw the departure of both sets of Lewii, leaving TanJoe, Evan, and I to try to best the ocean again.  Of course, the 3 foot cliff was now a 5 foot cliff and was 2 meters closer to the building than the day before.  And again, we were pummeled by waves, eventually breaking the boogey board the resort owned.  Joe's attempt to buy them a new one were rebuffed, since that one was left by a guest a while back.  

We adjourned to clean up and meet for cocktails before setting off to dinner.  The roadside stand we stopped out was a bit lacking, the food not nearly the quality of the previous nights, and the entertainment of watching rats scurry to and fro along the sea wall was a little off-putting. But the grilled oysters and caramelized tuna steak with chilis and onions filled me up, helped along by the beer steamed shrimp (complete with heads still attached). 

We set off to find the Pogo bar, and it had been read to be lively and fun.  And since we were at number 110, we though number 138 would be a short walk.  Wrong.  Not only to the street numbers on opposite of the road have almost not correspondence (80 is across the street from 121), but there's no way to know how far the next number is.  Often there's a 120A, 120B, and so on.  Fnally we arrived at Pogo to find it without electricity and lit by elephant night lights, which an Australian girl quickly absconded with as her Mui Ne souvenir. 

Down the beach we found some place else, and ordered the largest bucket of rum and coke you can imagine.  It took 4 of us almost 2 hours to get through this thing.  The decision was made that we needed to taxi back to hour home base and try something closer for entertainment.  We stopped by the previous nights bar, but it was a but dead (and lacking the previous nights scenery).  Undaunted, we decided to try one more place.  And we were pleasantly rewarded with a lively crowd dancing away the night.

We quickly joined in and gyrated about the dance floor until roughly 3 AM. After a sit on the beach pondering life, (and a quick dip in the ocean for me.. Which at the time was a little calmer at low tide) it was off to bed.  

The next morning brought a beautiful blue sky, a meter less beach to enjoy, and hazy looks in all our eyes.  After a blah burger, TanJoe and I boarded a bus for the 6 hour ride back to Saigon, and more donna kabobs!  

Tuesday we spent lounging for the most part, and washing the sand form our clothes.  That evening, we met up with some other Air Mekongers for Taco Tuesday and happy hour.  

Now, I'm on my way to Singapore.  I splurged and booked the hotel our crews stay in, which is costing me for one night about the same as all my accommodations in Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam combined.  I was able to get a exit row seat on the Tiger Airways flight, which isn't very full anyways, so it a nice smooth comfortable ride.  Tomorrow morning at 9 AM local time, I start my trip back to the US a roughly 30 hour death march.  And it doesn't look like I'm gonna have the planes to myself. Boo!

That's all for the travelogue thus far.

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