Nha Trang and Dalat, Vietnam

I met back up with Alec The Dogeating German in Nha Trang. He had seen enough rain and was headed for the west coast. He had a guy attached to his hip, a Brit who seemed like a total douchebag. We had a sidebar when the guy went to the bathroom.

"Alec, why are you hanging out with a douchebag?"

"I know. He's totally like douche".

"Then why?"

"I got lonely"

I can understand this. I have had a few drinks with DB's just to kill some time. They almost always tell me about how corrupt America is within the first five minutes. I have taken to chumming their water, creating an entirely false self. I claim to be Republican, pro-Iraq and from an oil family. They go fucking beserk.

"Alec, how do we ditch this guy?"

"So simple. Just leave"

And just like that, we were out the door. We never saw him again. I like to imagine that he was excited to have met Alec and was destroyed that we had bailed on him. This was probably better for him than hearing my sermon about sending more weapons to the Saudis so that we could control more oil.

We had an amazing night. We found a seafood cart by the water, pointed at two huge lobsters and watched them grilled live on the curbside hibachi. We ripped them apart with our hands, sitting at a kiddy table and chairs. Lots of Tiger beer. It was like a shellfish tea party for two. Grand total: $7. We barhopped after this, finally settling on The Sailing Club for jugs of vodka orange. Alec had peeped my Facebook and asked why I didn't mention that I was gay. Unsure of how to respond, I went with "don't tell me you want me to suck your dick now". He laughed until he couldn't breathe. Then we drank too much and walked home, mindful of the packs of roving girls (big scam here. the group of them pretend to flirt and embrace you while fleecing your pockets). Alec was annoyed that my goodbye hug was too mindful of his heterosexuality and demanded a second one "for real". We said goodbye and good luck. Good Ol Alec The Dogeating German.

The next two days in Nha Trang were mostly a waste. It rained. All of the boats stayed in harbor and people did cultural things like watch Blades of Glory. I managed to take a taxi to the hot spring and sat for 20 minutes in a hot mud bath. Big whoop. Tips: stay at the Ha Van Hotel, drink the Bellinis at Guava and get a lifechanging massage the place that begins with an "s". Oh, and go to Nha Trang when it's sunny.

The ride to Dalat was just past hazardous and just before terrifying. Huge mountains. Oncoming buses. Roads more narrow than Bleeker Street or Brick Lane Road. Seven Hours. Thank god for my Coast To Coast podcasts, which never fail to distract me with thoughts of UFO's and Atlantis.

Dalat is a town in the mountains, originally built by the French. It is centered around a lake and has the freshest air in Vietnam. I found the Dreams Hotel and haggled a room down to $15, then went for food. I met a French Canadian named Julie (joo-lee) there; she would play an interesting part in my evening, which is best described in another entry. Not like that.

The Easy Riders were once a group of motorbike guides who began running mountain tours from Dalat a few years ago. Like everything successful in Vietnam, it was copied a thousandfold. The town is now over-run with knuckleheads on bikes, goading you for a ride. They haunt the cafe's, the bars and even the hotels. If you stop to look at a map or admire the lake, there is one on your shoulder in under a minute. I beg the town of Dalat to do something about them because they have ruined a beautiful place to visit. It's worse than any kind of touting because they usually engage in conversation first. "How are you? Where you from. Where you go next?". Then you wait for it. "So you want easy rider?" A "no" turns into two more minutes of pitch, quieted only after two more "no's" and one "NO". I am not lying when I say that this happened to me forty times a day, even when I had my headphones on and hoodie up. Imagine not being able to relax in a lake town. I cut my trip short to two nights. Fuck the Easy Riders.

Off to Saigon on a seven hour bus ride. Completely unsure of what to expect.