Mersing Me

Time to get out of the big city. We'll be heading to the East coast to the city of Mersing for some Island exploration in the morning.

I forced Nathan into purchasing a hunk of the best durian money can buy..just to test the theory that some durian is better than other durian. False. We are now both suffering with a terrible case of durian burps.
I would like very much to never eat it again.

In other news, I met a lovely man from Iran who introduced himself (after learning that I was American) "I am from Iran. I am not a terrorist. "
To which I responded "whew. I'm not a terrorist either. Now that we've covered the basics..what's your name? "
We both had a good chuckle, then went on our merry ways.

I have also determined with a little investigative dietary restriction that my head swelling might be caused by my gluten intolerance. I have to make a very tough decision. Which am I more intolerant of...a giant face or donuts? Malaysia makes a fine donut. Apparently Malaysia also knows it's custards. Based on how enthusiastic and painfully detail oriented Nathan's description of last nights dessert was, I'd say Malasia dominates the custard market.
I truly hope I have more than desserts to blog about very shortly. Snorkeling on picturesque islands is in the works..then on to Singapore.

Batu Caves

Over the course of the last three-ish months I have been convinced that I suffer a rare condition whereby my head changes size while I am sleeping. I think Nathan agrees with me on some level because he regularly determines my head fatness with accuracy (when asked). He doesn't like this exercise, I can tell. At first I have a feeling he worried I was laying an intricate trap for him..lulling him into freely expressing how big my head appeared on a 1-10 scale. Now I can trust his honest opinion. Why am I beginning a post about the Batu caves wih my personal problems? Mostly to illustrate how distressing it was to have Nathan walking through the total black of the huge caverns with a flashlight pointed at the back of my skull, projecting my enormous gourd shadow onto stalactites and flows.
The cave was pretty incredible even if we did have to follow a guide and stay on a marked path. I also whitnessed my first attempted monkey attack. It had almost no impact on Nathan to have seen the ferocious primate leap into the air with teeth and claws wildly tearing at the ignoramus trying to get a closer look. I, on the other hand ranted about monkeys for the next twenty minutes.
Tonight we are headed to the movies. Nathan spent a couple long metro rides trying to explain the plots of the first two transformers movies to me in preparation. I learned he has a thing for Megan Fox.

Aggressive Emus

As some of you may remember, I am not a fan of birds. However, Nathan was willing to spend the time and money to risk being mauled by a tiger so.. when he suggested we take a walk through the largest walk-in, open air aviary IN THE WORLD! I couldn't say no. I was expecting to receive an invitation to get crapped on with our entrance bracelet. It wasn't all bad actually. I got to see a toddler wiggling his little fingers at the cage of a great hornbill, resulting in an attempted attack. I bit my tongue..bit I really wanted to warn the kid's parents about their son's condition. If your child has fingers that look like wriggling worms it's probably best to avoid aviaries, or at least bring mittens.
Nathan read all of the plaques detailing points of interest and I played photographer. For someone nearly indifferent to bird beauty I got some good shots, if I do say so myself. We also got to watch the eagles being fed. I can really get behind an exhibit that involves deadly birds snatching raw flesh from mid air.
We did an awful lot of walking around Kuala Lumpur today. I love the city. So much green space and so many interesting people.
We topped off our evening with a meal at a portugese restaurant to celebrate my ancestry. A bowl full of chicken liver has me feeling like a million ringitt. I'm going to request a day of exploring and shopping tomorrow, and for the latter I imagine I'll be on my own.

A Few Island Pictures

I can't not include this picture.  Poor poor creature.

This was the tray full of 'ingredients' that were sprinkled into our betel nut packet.  I cannot tell you what a single one of them is.  I thought the tin with colorful jimmy/sprinkle like things looked tasty but in hindsight I think it might be fertilizer.  

The finished product.  Ipecac for little India. 

Travel through South East Asia isn't complete with out some snake charmin'.  I like adventure, but watching this snake 'show' made me really really nervous.  

That said..we both took part in the fun. 

I don't like snakes..but, with a temperature of 100 degrees, it was quite pleasant to have this live cool-pack wrapped around my neck. 

Seven pools waterfall from above.  We rode the cable car to the top of a nearby mountain to check out the island of Langkawi. 

Walking the suspension bridge at the top of the mountain.

Another bridge shot.

Notice..about a 100 meters in the distance....

Rubber tree doing what it does..

We've been good little tourists, exploring the Islands on the Western coast of Malaysia.  It's now time to head south.  We'll be on a train to Kuala Lumpur in the morning.
As a side note:
We met a crazy old man on the tour of the spice plantation.  He very sternly informed us both about one more thing that monkeys hate (so he wasn't completely crazy).  I find it intriguing how many people know just one or two things on the monkey most hated list.  This man did a demonstration of how smiling at a monkey can actually make the monkey think you are challenging it to a fight.  He claimed to have seen this very dangerous misunderstanding in person.  I think the seriousness with which I received his warning made him think that I was toying with him.  Even when I assured him that I knew full well that monkeys can rip people's faces off in the blink of an eye..he looked to Nathan to make sure I wasn't being snide.  Nathan shook his head as if to say...'No pal, she's dead serious.'
Then the ol' man bought me a drink.  Making friends all over the globe.

Little India

This story begins innocently enough: Nathan and I took a guided tour through a spice plantation on the island of Penang...however it ends with me curled up in the fetal position with a bright red mouth tasting of urinal cakes and vomit, praying to Kuan Yin the Indian God of Mercy.

During our tour we learned from our Indian guide of a strange custom involving the betel nut. Indians apparently chew it, in combination with other spices like clove and cinnamon. We explored the island for the rest of the afternoon on a motorcycle, then ended our tour in Georgetown's Little India. We parked the bike and went in search of a shop selling 'betel nut for chewing' per our guide's instructions. It took a few stops, and some miming..but eventually we stumbled into a tiny stall where a woman knew what we were talking about. She pulled two green leaves from a stack, rubbed them with limestone paste and then pulled out a tray with tiny cups of mystery ingredients. She expertly tossed a pinch of this and a pinch of that onto the leaves then pinned the piles together using a whole clove. Proud of our ability to procure this authentic piece of local culture, we celebrated with some delicious Indian cuisine.

After dinner we returned the rental motorcycle before heading back to our hotel to experiment with our loot. Chewing these little packets of betel nut cocktail was like eating urinal cakes dipped in shampoo. Our drooling was uncontrollable. One of the ingredients caused our saliva, teeth and tongues to turn bright red. About one minute after popping these doozeys into our faces, we were both dizzy and nauseated. Neither of us had any desire to see our experiment to it's end. We were dripping blood red drool down our chins and walking around like drunken sailors. At this point the real misery began. We both curled ourselves into balls and begged our bodies not to induce vomiting. My body did not comply, but Nathan managed to keep our spicy dinner down. Lucky man.
I will never chew the betel nut again..never.
You win some. You lose some.
Jenny - 0
Betel nut - 1

Welcome to Butterworth

We have arrived in our seventh country!
On the 23 hour train ride we met two very nice Thai girls who spoke fluent English. Nathan had ordered a beer from the meal car, thinking to spend his last Baht. When the kitchen collector showed up for her payment we were shocked to learn that the price of a single beer had tripled (train tax). Nathan didn't have enough Baht and our US dollars were given a laughable exchange rate. The younger of the two girls, April, insisted on picking up the tab. We had a great time hearing stories about their travels and studies in China, England, and Australia. The train manager Let us postpone lowering the sleeper bunks until 9pm. Once the bunks were fixed we all crawled into our curtained areas to attempt sleep.
We got off the train at the Malaysian border to get our passports stamped and our fingerprints taken, then boarded the train for another 4 hours to our destination. Ten minutes from our stop we both started to feel a little anxious. For good reason. We realized we had done absolutely no preparation. We knew there was an island off the coast of Butterworth with Unesco status..but didn't know the island's name, how we were going to get there, whether we had to find a boat or a bus to a boat, and we didn't have a map. Nathan told me to go make some friends. So, I introduced myself to an older couple who turned out to be ex-teachers from the University of Maine. The woman was teaching social work while I was studying biochemistry. We chit chatted while Nathan took a quick look at their guidebook.
Thankfully Butterworth is a city with sense. The train station, bus terminal and ferry are all in the same place. We showed up in Georgetown and promptly got ripped off by a taxi claiming hotels were 'quite far' and refused to use a meter. Four dollars and five blocks later Nancy the cabbie stopped at a hotel she likely gets kickbacks from. We took a look at the room but the whole place felt like the set of a horror movie. We were shown to the room by a man with terrible scoliosis and the room looked like a prison cell with less charm. No kickback for Nancy.
We found a guesthouse on our own. After a couple hours in our aircon room we decided to get some dinner. I found a traditional Nyonya restaurant which happened to be the spot that Jimmy Choo likes to grab a bite when he's in town. I appreciate someone who appreciates a good shoe..so I assumed Jimmy had good taste in Nyonya as well.
We had some amazing dishes. I can't say yet whether the food is better than Thai cuisine, but I plan on doing extensive research.
We'll explore Georgetown today, then spend some time planning our last month. It's almost time to buy return tickets..hard to believe.

Ini Meeny Miney Mo

Catch a Tiger by the....what?!

Yesterday Nathan and I finally made it to the Tiger Monastery in Kanchanaburi Thailand.  We missed it on our first go around..but made a special trip from Bangkok before catching our train south to Malaysia. 

This was one sign we took a very close look at before entering the canyon where the tigers were all lounging

A six month old, napping in the sun

A little nervous

This was the largest male.  My entire body could easily have fit in his stomach.  He weighed almost 600 pounds.

Getting ready to bottle feed this 18 month old male.

The monks at this temple are all a little...harder than other monks.  Tattoos, battle wounds..and they all seemed to be chain smokers. 

All in all...a great trip to the Temple.  There were over 93 tigers living there.  As well as deer, water buffalo, wild boars, horses.  The temple takes in almost any kind of abandoned animal.  Well worth the entrance fee to help support the cost of raising a tiger. 

The Worst Case Scenario

I have feared it for years. I have cautiously guarded my possessions to avoid facing this horrific event. To no avail. Today I was a victim. I was in the hotel room bathroom, washing our clothes by hand. There were suds everywhere, I must have been excessively enthusiastic.. my thumb ring flew into the air and as I screamed 'NNNOOO' I watched it fly into the airspace directly above the toilet and then drop straight down into the bowl. Nathan heard the scream and came running. He found me sitting on my ankles in front of the toilet moaning in disbelief. He didn't have to ask..my silver ring glimmered beneath five inches of germy liquid. He closed the door with a 'I'll just leave you to it then..'
It could have been worse. My real paranoia kicks in when I get within ten feet of a port-o-potty. I won't carry anything I'm not willing to lose FOREVER into one of those blue stinkers. Anyhow, as we were discussing the incident later Nathan admits to having dropped something into a toilet recently too. He says..'I can't remember exactly what it was..maybe nail clippers..maybe the dental floss.'
I have no words. Just intense hope that the dental floss bit was a joke.

The Pains Of Travel

We made it to Bangkok after an excruciating 10 hour bus ride. The distance should have taken about four hours but the Thai transport company responsible for border crossing has a fool proof system. Every forty minutes or so they would stop at a restaurant or shop owned by one of their families so that tourists would do what tourists do best..spend money. It works in most cases, unfortunately it doubled travel time.
Nathan is feeling a little under the weather after the journey. He spent the morning consulting webMD to come up with a diagnosis, even though I have already determined he has the flu. I returned to the hotel after a morning of perusing shops to learn that he believes himself to be suffering a mean case of lupus. This is a perfect example of why sick people shouldn't be allowed Internet access.
We'll be spending tomorrow in Bangkok then checking out the Tiger Monastery on the Myanmar border. I want to make sure we're both healthy before hanging out with 90 tigers that can smell an easy meal.

Quick Note:

Monkeys also hate it when you drink ozonated water in front of them.  I survived a near death experience at Angkor Wat...A male monkey angrily chased me, trying to steal my bottled gold.
Dehydrated monkeys are even more fierce than one might imagine.  I screamed and backed away as quickly as I could.  Everyone around got a good chuckle until I sternly informed them that monkeys can rip your face off.

Little Story About A Billionaire Named Soko - And Pictures!

 Once upon a time there was (and still is) a guy named Soko, who owned almost every gas station in the Kingdom of Cambodia. Naturally, this made him very rich. One morning while slurping his noodle soup it hit him. Bam. The best thing to do when you're rich in a poverty stricken, corrupt country...is to use your wealth and influence to get more money. Soko made a few phone calls and worked himself a sweet deal. He promised the government some really classy ticket booths for their natural wonders if the government agreed to a couple of small details. Soko gets to keep 72% of the profits those ticket booths rake in. He also sets the price that tourists pay wherever these booths are constructed. And just one more thing..Soko would like to rent Angkor Wat. For a handsome monthly payoff to big brother the most beautiful and historically significant place in Cambodia is monopolized by a single man. I wonder if the US government would be willing to rent me the Grand Canyon. If not I may have to swing by Egypt and make a pitch for a lease on the pyramids.
Anyway, to his credit Soko constructed a sweet ticket booth just South of the miles and miles of ruins near Siem Reap. He did miss one thing..he forgot to train the people that work there.

It was total chaos. No real lines, teen girls telling us to stand here, then there..and by the way give me 40 dollars. The ticket sales building had very clearly marked spots for lines in front of 8-9 windows but no one wanted you to stand in the lines. We had some faceless person from behind glass thrust a camera on a stick at us, snap a shot and then disappear. No one told us there was a paper ticket, and the woman we paid didn't mention whether we should hang around..but we did out of curiosity. Thankfully so. About ten minutes later a different woman walked up to us, eyed us closely then shuffled through a stack of fifty tickets each with a photo I.D. on it. All we could do was shake our heads in astonishment. This was the 'system' that raked in thousands of dollars a day.

Aside from the chaos..Angkor Wat is beautiful. We rode around the park all day on bicycles we rented in town. Other than occasional ticket checks there is essentially no oversight of these temples. Visitors can climb most everything at their own risk. Words don't do this place justice...

As we pedaled home it started to sprinkle..then rain..then downpour. It was the best ending to a surreal experience. We laughed and raced on gravel and red dirt roads with mud flying and our clothes sticking to us, saturated. Now we get ready to say goodbye to Cambodia. Tomorrow on a bus back to Thailand. We have some unfinished business with some tigers.

Angkor Wat Library

Angkor Wat Complex

Nathan exploring the ruins

View from the tallest tower in the Angkor Temple

Taking a break in the courtyard

Angkor from the rear exit

Exploring Bayon ruins

The faces of Bayon

The entrance to Preah Khan

Preah Khan

Preah Khan

Preah Khan

Loved the mossy walls

Nathan being dwarfed

Monks enjoying Bayon

Climb at your own risk

The Grand Palace runway

Wall of sculptures near the Leper's Terrace

Stones everywhere..their original resting places long lost

This One's For Pops

Readers, you'll have to bear with me.  I'm sentimental, and so am compelled to use my blog once again to share a little something more personal..

At dinner last night Nathan and I told each another stories about our fathers.  On the eve of Father's Day it seemed an appropriate dinner topic-a celebration of what we each love and respect about our Pa.  (Nathan is the only person I have ever met in my entire life who also calls his father 'Pa')  We had each other laughing with childhood memories.  The time his father handled a midnight invasion of a bat while wearing a chain saw mask, swinging a tennis racket wildly while a young Nathan followed behind..watching with curiosity and not an ounce of concern for his own unmasked face.  The time mine gave a stern lecture about the responsible use of his state of the art PVC potato launcher mere moments before sending a rotten potato at record speed through the greenhouse windows.

On one of our first days in Cambodia, Nathan and I watched from our hotel balcony as a little girl dragged her father from one flowering tree to another.  At each she pointed with her tiny fingers to the prettiest blossoms.  Her father had endless patience as he picked flower after flower for her inspection.  He was clearly bringing just as much joy to her with each delivery as she was to him with her delighted giggles.

I have the feeling that if asked, my own father might say of me that I have too much heart and not enough head.  I admit that sometimes that is true.  As an adult, my relationship with him isn't quite as simple as that of the Cambodian girl and her father - like it surely used to be.  The joy we get from being a part of one another's lives is sometimes tangled with the messy details of living - of making mistakes and changing course.  That said, there is no man on the planet that I respect more than my father.  He has earned my respect and love in a thousand different ways, with good deeds, compassion, discipline, empathy, intelligence, work ethic, creativity, and his genuine interest in the natural world.

My father is the man who can fix any problem.  Plumbing, farm equipment, woodwork, cars, conflicts requiring diplomacy (big and small).  He can deliver babies from the belly of a dying sow, run a bean farm while working full time and build a 36 foot sail boat from scratch.  My father is the man that made 6 foot tall stilts for his own amusement..and then needed his own tractor bucket to lift himself into them.  He got up at 430 to work in the fields and expected the family to pitch in.  He taught my brothers and I about work ethic through his relentless efforts on the farm and his limitless energy and excitement to learn new things.  His expectations were always high, but never impossible. He believes in doing things right the first time, but not being afraid to learn from mistakes.  His confidence in me, his only daughter, always inspired me to push myself harder than I otherwise might have.
I am proud to have the father that I do.  I think often of the things I have learned from him and am thankful for the many ways I am better for having listened to his council.

As Nathan and I reminisced, it surprised me to think of all the things I don't know about my father.  Much of his life before marrying my mother, and before I was born is a mystery to me.  I hope to get answers to some of my questions..to understand exactly how my father became who he has always been to me.  But the truth is:  I know and have always known the most important things about him.  He is a good man with a good heart, he loves and sacrifices for his family and he is exactly the type of father that deserves a day to be celebrated.

So...Happy Father's Day Pa.  Hope you can figure out how to use the Vietnamese mouth harp I sent your way.  It sounded like a suffering animal when I tried it.

Tens of Thousands on the Line

Nathan and I have mastered the race track in a single afternoon. Despite some confusion about whether our pamphlet was recording the weights of the horses or the tiny jockey boys on their backs. (44kilos seemed just as likely for both)
We were incredibly accurate at picking winners. Nathan picked the horses who looked like they were tweaking on drugs and I chose the horses that looked the most excited to run in a race. This strategy yielded us a win on every bet we placed. Too bad hundreds of thousands of Dong don't get you very far. We broke even for the day. Five races won, three bags of pineapple, beer and our entrance fees covered by winnings. We may have to pencil in a return to the Saigon Racing Club.

Weasels did what to my coffee?

Another incredible discovery! We just found out that Trung Nguyen no. 8 brand of coffee is very unique. We've had it before, and if I remember correctly it was delightfully rich. The coffee beans are fed to weasels, harvested from their droppings, ground up and served. Yumm. Have I mentioned I love this country?
Weasels doing doppio duty. Nathan gets full credit for the play on words.

Another overnight bus... To remember

I thought we'd escaped our bad fortune with buses. This morning when we pulled our packs from the underside of our sleeper bus in the middle of a busy Saigon street, I discovered we had not. Turns out the plumbing from toilet on board needed some work. Our bags (Nathan's more so than mine) were soaked with urine. Hello Saigon! We'll be slightly stinky for a few days..every item in Nathan's pack is being washed. So is the pack itself. I tried not to rub it in that all of my clothes were sealed in a water tight sailing bag inside my pack, or that his possessions took the hardest hit. Truth is, we both suffer if one of us smells like a wet diaper.

Ho Chi Min City

We've booked a 'sleeper bus' for tomorrow night.  I made sure to clarify that if there were no beds for us that I would be getting my money back.  The guy laughed..and then when I didn't, he nodded his head seriously. "There are beds."

A few notes for travelers:

Never book anything online for a trip to Vietnam.  The price online for everything..hotel rooms, train tickets, bus tickets, shows..everything..is three times what you will pay if you walk in to one of these establishments. 

Never book through your hotel.  We have learned on a number of occassions that hotel receptionists lie about prices, time tables for transport, and the cost of just about anything.

Try to avoid random Vietnamese holidays.  The price of everything triples.  Restaraunts pull out 'holiday menus', which are the same as the regular menus except the prices are all higher.  This system is one truly based on supply and demand..more people want it..the price goes up.

Today we had a fun adventure on bicycles trying to by-pass the system.  Our hotel receptionist informed us this morning that she had already booked a ticket for us on a train for tomorrow, for 18 dollars apeice. (We  did not ask for this..or want it.)  We told her to un-book it.  We then made a point of telling her that we were going to ride bikes to the train station to check prices.  She didn't like that.  We checked train and bus stations, maybe 20 minutes of biking around town in the heat, and another 10 minutes waiting in semi-organized lines to get information.  We discovered a list of set prices, (well hidden from outsider eyes) ones that the Vietnamese people pay from Nha Trang to Ho Chi Min.  Then, we found a private bus company close to our hotel to book with.  We walked in and instead of asking the price of the sleeper bus, we stated the price.  The man selling tickets groaned and asked if we'd been to the bus station.  Yes.  We have finally mastered the system..made it impossible for a bus company to rob us blind.  It was totally worth braving the 100 degree heat to watch the smug smile on bus-ticket-man's face dissolve.  Victory.

Have we been 'Bangkoked'?

Last night we paid three times the listed price for our hotel. Why? Because yesterday marked the anniversary of the end of the Vietnam war and beginning of a 36 year stretch of peace. I'm not certain but this might be the longest stretch of peace that Vietnam has ever had. We were told that things were going to get crazy. It sounded like something worth sticking around for..so we did.
Lots of people did show up for this 'festival', but other than a stage with several performances involving props like baskets and sticks, we could not, for the life of us find any other festivities. It appears that during HUGE festivals the Vietnamese people just mill around. Our confusion was so great that we had to take extreme measures to investigate. We started tailing people. What better way to figure put what draws locals to the streets than to pick up a mark at the parking garage and follow them around? This proved unsuccessful for two reasons. 1. I am the worst detective in history. I keep getting too close, making eye contact, bumping into my target. Not to mention I do not even remotely 'blend in'. 2. We got bored because all our mark was doing was milling.
Things did not get crazy. The streets emptied out by 1030. On our walk back to the hotel we started thinking about the brilliant scam in Bangkok that opperates by taking advantage of tourist ignorance by telling them it's a special day, a holiday worth sticking around for...every day. It is possible that the festival was a typical Saturday night. We may never know. That's the real art in scamming. Trick people so masterfully that they are left to marvel at your skill instead of grumbling at the slight.

Everything I Do...I Do It For You....

Our road trip through the Highlands is coming to a close. Miraculously the motorcycle still runs great. About halfway to DeLat the road turned to garbage. There were pot holes big enough to swallow us both and sections of sharp crushed rock that had the bike sliding all over the place. We bumped into some 'Easy Riders' two days ago, after surviving a particularly harrowing stretch of road. These are a very popular form of transport for tourists..the Easy Riders are motorcyclists in Vietnam that rent out there services to drive you on the back of their bikes through the highlands for 50-75 dollars a day. Our bike rental costs us 7 dollars a day. Surprisingly few tourists try this trip on their own. It could be in part, due to the apparent conspiracy to hide all useful maps from outsiders. We took wrong turns almost 50 percent of the time. Thankfully it's easy to discover your error when you end up in someone's back yard. Anyway, we bumped into a group of about ten Easy Riders with their charges holding on behind them. They offered to show us a shortcut the rest of the way to DeLat, so we happily followed. That night we were thrilled to have taken them up on the offer...when they invited us to join them at a karaoke bar. We experienced the true Vietnam karaoke scene. I goes something like this:
You walk up to one of the thousand buildings with the word 'Karaoke' painted on the side of it, climb six flights of stairs and end up in a tiny room with no windows. Inside this room is a wrap-around couch, surround sound, cases of beer, snacks, and two microphones. We crowded into this space with about ten Easy Rider guys and four of their tourist employers. They were all three sheets to the wind. It got loud fast. Nathan and I realized weeks ago that fitting into Vietnam was all about losing inhibitions...so we sang like our lives depended on it. If I do say so myself, my duet with a Vietnamese man singing 'Everything I do, I do it for you' was a real crowd pleaser.

For those of you who might be interested in this kind of trip, in this area of Vietnam, I can recommend a great guy (and charismatic, English speaking) Easy Rider.  His name is Bruce Lee, and his family's house is right next door to the Blue Star Hotel in Nha Trang.  His email is  boy_single902008@yahoo.com  ( though he is now happily married..I suggested he change the email but for now this is the best way to reach him )  He is also a talented karaoke singer..which is worth a little extra per day, in my opinion :)

Coffee Capital of Vietnam!

We spent yesterday making our way on a motorcycle to Paradise, a beautiful spot on DocLet beach on a peninsula with something against signage. We drove around salt flats praying we wouldn't be reduced to sleeping in a salty ditch for much of the afternoon. It was worth the hassle. Our beach bungalo came wih three meals of local food a day and turquoise bath water ocean waves. I have checked off the South China Sea on my list of skinny dipped bodies of water.. And we're ready to continue inland!
Today we will ride to Buon Ma Thuot, the coffee capital of Vietnam, to sample some of the finest butter roasted beans available. There are a series of large waterfalls in the area and Vietnam's largest nature reserve a couple of hours from that. So far, a great bike trip!
Minus.. the French guy at dinner last night telling a table full of guests that capitalism has reduced us to the equivalent of Egyptian slaves putting up pyramids. I was tempted to make the argument that aliens built the pyramids, but his earlier comments about contagious neroses had me worried for my safety.

The Ol' Fourth Floor Trick

This is a brilliant move by receptionists to get hotel guests. They tell you that the only room they have for you to look at, and take, is on the fourth floor. You therefore have to trudge up a miserable staircase with your life strapped to your back to look at the accommodations to decide.. But by the time you reach the top you are so tired you'd accept a rug on the floor as long as it meant getting to put down your bags.

We have decided on another motorcycle trip. We will depart Nha Trang this morning and head for the central highlands on the Ho Chi Min highway. We are going to hit the town of DaLat on the loop and end back here in Nha Trang. With our current pace we realized yesterday that another Vietnam visa extension will be required. Once you're in Vietnam it's incredibly easy to stay.

Time for breakfast, and to brave the crowds of people hawking their wares on the street.
'Hey man! Hey lady! Buy something.' I'm considering starting a business here... These vendors could really benefit from a couple classes 'How to sell crap to tourists' , 'What not to scream at people you are trying to swindle' , 'Why you probably shouldn't treat tourists like gigantic babies with diapers full of cash, even though they are'.
There is a need for classes like these. Something to consider for a retirement job maybe.