A Romantic Interlude

When most people envision the landscape of Vietnam, no doubt heavy jungle comes to mind. Chris and I were surprised to find Vietnam looking nothing like the movies we had watched, with soldiers crashing through impenetrable foliage. This is possibly because most Nam movies have been filmed in the Philippines or Thailand, where the flora has been undisturbed by warfare. Perhaps Agent Orange has done so much damage to the Vietnamese jungles that it has permanently altered the landscape.

We certainly didn't expect the mountainous, pine-treed beauty of the highlands. We had read that Dalat was a resort town with a heavy French influence. This sounded different from anything that we had experienced thus far in Asia, so we headed out of Saigon (on the last decent bus we'd encounter) to the Central Highlands.

The first indication that we were in Little Paris was the gaudy, awful replica of the Eiffel Tower (which looked more like an antenna than a piece of architecture) shining in the night. We couldn't see much of Dalat in the dark, but there was a spacious lake, fountains, and store-lined boulevards. We could have been in the Alps for all we knew.

I suppose I should mention that much of Southeast Asia used to be under French colonial rule. The countries of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos together were called French Indochina. This is why it is so easy to find decent baguettes while traveling in these countries. The capital of Indochina moved around, but at one time, Dalat served as the capital—thus, the heavy French influence. Though French bakeries prevailed, French rule did not, and Vietnam claimed their independence in 1945. It's interesting (to me, anyway) the effect World War II had on on colonization. As Europe became destabilized, colonies around the world, one-by-one declared their independence. This was a huge problem for Britain, which up until then had reigned as an Empire, at one time ruling over a quarter of the world. The territories that stayed in Britain's grasp are now referred to as Commonwealth Nations, and that is why you can find the Queen's face on currency in places like Canada and the Cayman Islands. There it is in a nutshell. And that, folks, is your history lesson for today.

It was dark and raining heavily when we alighted at our hotel. The hotel was one of the best we had stayed at. For something like $10, we had a spacious room with two double beds, a TV, a fridge, and best of all—French doors leading out onto a balcony. There was a touch of class here in Dalat, this was becoming apparent.

Even though Dalat is known as a resort town, it is a resort town for the Vietnamese, and doesn't necessarily cater to foreigners. For this, we had a hard time finding a place to eat. The rain was coming down in torrents, so we didn't wander far before dunking into an eating establishment. At first we were hesitant, as nobody in this eatery spoke English, and none of the menus were in English. We only had pictures to go by. Thankfully, we didn't bail, and took a chance on a completely foreign menu. This eatery specialized in pancakes, the savory Vietnamese kind. It wasn't so much the pancakes that concerned us, it was the fillings. I was always weary of meat in Asia. I had been sticking mostly to prawns, fish and vegetables (you never know where a cat or a rat might turn up). However, the fillings we picked for our pancakes turned out to be fabulous, unequal to anything we had tried in Asia thus far—BBQ pork or bacon, and fried mushrooms. The pancakes came separate from the fillings, and we had to put them together. The pancakes were soft, like pasta dough rolled thin. When put together with the fillings, they tasted very similar to pierogies (in Chris's blog he writes that I wouldn't shut up about this, so it must have really made an impact on me). Some other Western tourists wandered in, looking just as confused as we had with the menu, and slipped back out, which was a shame for them. Despite the simplicity of the food, it was one of our finest meals in Asia, which goes to show that sometimes you just have to take a chance on a foreign menu.

Sarah the Swan-Parker

We had no plan for our first full day in Dalat. We had postcards to mail so we wandered around town, looking for the post office. Everything was modern and clean in this resort town. Though geared for tourism, there didn't seem to be a whole lot going on. Maybe we were there in the off-season, though I highly doubt it. It was July and the heat was at its tropical peak—you'd think the Vietnamese would escape to the lush coolness of the Highlands.

The sky threatened to chuck down rain. We sat in a cafe eating croissants and sipping tea and coffee while we consulted with our guidebook. It seemed that the main sights were actually outside of town. Whether we liked it or not, we'd have to sign up for another tour. After being shuttled rigorously around the Mekong Delta for several days, we weren't entirely keen on yet another guided tour, but when I saw the Crazy House, like something out of a Salvador Dali painting, staring out at me in the guidebook, I knew another tour was inevitable. But not for today. Today was for relaxing.

After finding the post office and mailing our postcards, we circled Xuan Huong Lake, looking very much like an alpine lake with the mountain backdrop. Paddle boats were lined up along a pier. These paddle boats were swan-shaped and fit the setting. Chris and I decided to kill some time and rented one of these boats for an hour.

As I've discovered many times in our six years of marriage, Chris and I aren't always in sync. This reality usually rears its head whenever we are operating machinery or assembling objects. We're both headstrong and have both lived alone for long periods of time, thus mastering the defensive "I know how to do this." With two captains, sometimes it's hard to steer a ship. Or a swan boat. I think I'm justified in thinking that Chris wasn't very good at it. He had us going in circles. I insisted that I steer in order to get us anywhere. Though I cannot drive a stick-shift car, I mastered the swan boat, shifting gears and pedals and whatnot, though it wasn't an easy feat. I got us across that lake and avoided colliding with other couples who were struggling with their boats. The lake was expansive and took us a long time to get across. We kept an eye on the time and furiously paddled. We began to paddle even harder when the dark clouds began to form over the nearby mountains. We looked at the pier, just a little speck in the distance, and Chris had the audacity to ask me "Do you think you can park this thing?" I answered with "They don't call me Sarah the Swan-Parker for nothing." This is perhaps one of my greatest one-liners, and to this day, on occasion Chris will still refer to me as Sarah the Swan-Parker. And yes, I did park that swan perfectly, thank you very much.

Yet Another Tour

This was another whirlwind tour featuring random things—a flower farm, a coffee plantation, a silkworm farm, a waterfall, a giant Buddha, and best of all, the Crazy House. Seen as how so many people had signed up for this tour, we were put into two groups. Chris and I were put with an older couple and a Vietnamese family with a young child. All the young hip backpackers were grouped together, which suited us just fine. All through our travels we’d been aware of the age factor. Most backpackers were 20-somethings on a gap year. Though they accepted us into their midst without judgement, there was no real comradery. So it was nice for a change to be put with a middle-aged couple who were keen to give us advice on retirement.

The flower farm and the coffee plantation—yawn. I had learned more about coffee from my barista class in Yorkshire, England, where I learned that Vietnamese coffee beans are considered substandard in the coffee world. But because of the low price, they are widely used in the Western world by popular coffee chains. Vietnam is the second largest producer of coffee beans, just after Brazil. Anyway we were left to wander around a plantation, but were not offered any coffee, which was bizarre. Chris was somewhat perturbed, as we were ushered into a traditional longhouse where women were weaving and selling their wares. Yet there was no coffee to be drunk.

Our coffee stop came later—and I believe this is where we had another shot at trying kopi luwak, or weasel poo coffee. Chris ended up buying a bag of the world's most expensive coffee for his sister. I can't imagine that it gets any cheaper than the highlands of Vietnam.

We continued on to the silkworm farm, which was more interesting than it sounds. Silk production was a highly held secret in the ancient world (starting in China, then extending to other areas of the Far East), which is why the Silk Road existed. Europeans traded goods for silk, having no idea they could replicate the silk-making process back at home. But there was no way for them to know who was responsible for the world's most sought fabric—silkworms. Though it's to be noted that silkworms are not worms, rather they are the larva or caterpillar of a silkmoth (yes, I looked this up). We watched these little critters hard at work, spinning themselves in cocoons. Yet they are not allowed to emerge as moths, as this will destroy the silk threads. So the cocoons are boiled with the silkworms still in them. Oftentimes they are eaten. I felt this was a bit unfair for these hardworking little critters who spend their lives working away only to get boiled and eaten in the end. Doesn't seem like a fair existence. It's no wonder that PETA has campaigned against silk.

Talking about eating little critters, we stopped at a cricket farm where we were given the opportunity to try fried crickets. Poked through with a toothpick, they can be dipped in chili sauce for a true culinary experience. Actually, their taste is pretty neutral, and their crunch is reminiscent of popcorn. Chris was unimpressed. I only ate one as I didn't see the need to keep going. We had to check our teeth afterwards to make sure there wasn't a cricket leg sticking out.

Finally we were done with the farm-portion of our tour. High in a mountain pass, we came to Elephant Falls. The scenery was beautiful. We had to climb on some rocks to get to the top of the waterfall. This was a precarious climb, especially with the mist of the falls settling onto the rock, making it slippery. There was a handrail, but other than that, there was nothing to really prevent us from falling over the side. The climb was worth it; the waterfall is quite spectacular. We weren't sure how the waterfall had gotten its name; it didn't resemble an elephant in any way, not even a trunk. Is there a story behind its name? I've been Googling and cannot find any info. Anyway, we very carefully made our way down the rocks, and found that we could keep going on a trail behind the waterfall. This proved to be the real adventure, as the waterfall was pounding over the rocks and raining down around us. We got drenched, but it was a real adrenaline burst.

With wet clothes sticking to us, we wished for the heat of the coast to dry us out. We tried walking off the wet, as the Big Buddha was located nearby. As with most giant Buddha statues, there was a lot of stair-climbing. We had encountered many types of Buddhas on our trip: meditative Buddhas, serene Buddhas, reclining Buddhas, sitting Buddhas, standing Buddhas, slim Buddhas, fat Buddhas, but this was our first laughing Buddha. And what a delight he was! A big green guy, he was thoroughly enjoying himself with his wide-open smile, his yawning navel, and his large, dangling earlobes. I've heard that rubbing the belly of the Laughing Buddha brought good luck (lord knows that we had acquired enough good luck through all our temple visits throughout Asia). As it wasn't feasible to rub this big guy's belly, I rubbed his big toe, hoping that would suffice.

And now for the highlight of Dalat—the Crazy House. I've always been a sucker for the weird and whimsical. I've made a number of trips to House on the Rock in Spring Green, Wisconsin just to experience the strange, dreamlike visions of Alex Jordan (walking through the Devil's Mouth in the Carousel Room gave me nightmares as a child, and also the fact that we got lost in this strange place and couldn't find our way out). The Crazy House is also known as Hang Nga Guesthouse (though it didn't appear as if anyone was staying there). Crazy House pretty much says it all—it was pretty darn crazy. The overall design resembles a tree which you can walk through. Actually it reminds me of the Swiss cheese sculpture (known simply as the Cheese) which once stood in the playground of my elementary school, where kids crawled through the passages and stuck their heads out through the holes. This was the "Cheese" on a massive scale, with features such as a walkway that rose and fell like a roller coaster rail. With so many passages, it was a great place to wander and try to get lost. We came across the different bedrooms which were integrated into the design. Each bedroom had its own theme. My favorite room was the Eagle Room which was designed like a giant egg. It's easy to see that Hang Nga, the designer and architect, was inspired by Gaudi, whose famous facades appear to drip or melt. Salvador Dali also comes to mind. Even Dr. Seuss. I was expecting the Cat in the Hat to come around the corner. It definitely appealed to the kid in me and I could have stayed there much longer than we did.

Back in Little Paris, we ate at the eatery which had impressed us so much the night before, then retired to our hotel. To wrap things up—I can't say that a bunch of romance happened on this part of the trip, but the very setting of Dalat is one that evokes romance and imagination. Dalat is a delight, and yes I know that sounds cheesy.