It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

I succumbed to the open bus ticket in Dalat. Deciding between visiting another town straight north in the Central Highlands or going to the coastal town of Nha Trang, I chose the latter. In so doing, I couldn't pass up the ease, efficiency, and economics of the open bus ticket. So for $21 I had secured transportation all the way to Hanoi with stops in Nha Trang, Hoi An, and Hue...a total of approximately 36 bus hours.

At this point I'm excited to get to Nha Trang. I've met several travelers who speak highly of it, and I'm looking forward to seeing the Vietnam coastline. Nha Trang is a beach town which serves as the premier diving location in Vietnam. I fully intend to get certified but decide to wait until I get to southern Thailand.

For as much as I was looking forward to getting to a beach, I quickly discover that I'm not much of a beach person. It sounds silly, but I've spent a minimal amount of time around beaches in my life, and I'm not so sure what to do with myself. Nha Trang's beaches are crowded, commercialized, and teeming with European muchachos in banana hammocks. I am not impressed. Besides, the inactivity of the beach makes me feel like I surely must be missing something. So I make the transition from severe inactivity to extreme activity, of a sort. I rent a motorbike.

The thought hadn't really occurred to me until I met a few travelers who had. "It's easy," they tell me. "If you can ride a bike, you can ride a motorbike." The traffic in Nha Trang is mild, at least relative to Saigon, so I figure if I'm going to do it, this place is as good as any. I tell the guy at my guest house I want to rent a motorbike for the day ($3), he yells at another guy across the street, and a bike appears.

"I've never ridden a motorbike before. Is it hard?"
"You never ri' befoe?" (I'm trying my best to convey the Asian accent in writing, 'cause that's half the humor.)
"No." Which is more or less true, save the five minutes driving a motorcycle in Colorado before laying it down.

He looks skeptical. The guy who brings the bike starts showing me how to use it. Gears left foot...brake right foot...acceleration right hand. Part broken English instruction, part pantomime. Seems easy enough. But I'm terrified and just sit on the bike trying to rationalize exactly what the hell I'm doing. At this point I've got about 3 or 4 Vietnamese guys around me, all probably wondering just how quickly it will take me to kill myself. With effort, one of them spits out "uh..uh..American Hero!" (followed by bellowing laughter) at my attempted bravado. Another is offering to drive me around the city for the day on the back of his bike. He just wants my money of course, but I sit on the bike in front of the guest house for a good ten minutes trying to explain to myself why I don't take him up on it. I at least have the good sense to pay extra for a helmet. It will not only serve as my last line of defense for when my body rockets off the bike, but also for when my Mother rips into me for being such a fucking idiot. "It's cool Mom, I was wearing a helmet...I was fine."

And I started driving.

I figure I'll just take a lap around the block to see how it goes. A few minutes in I realize one of the Vietnamese guys is following me on his bike to see how I'm doing. He's not really concerned with my well-being though, he wants me to pay him to serve as my guide. I will do no such thing - there's no adventure in that - but I yell over to him while I'm driving "Where's the horn!?" Over here, the horn is as crucial as the brakes. He shows me and I keep on driving, with my hand laying on the horn to alert every motorbike within a 50 yard radius that an American Hero is coming.

My first destination is meant to be an old Cham ruin on the edge of town. I have a general idea of where I need to go, but everytime I come upon an intersection the street sign means nothing to me and I'm too scared to make a turn. Remember, there are rarely traffic signals at intersections of any kind, not to mention four-way intersections. So to make a left turn, I'm required to turn slowly and let the oncoming traffic stream around me. Like a proper agnostic, I cannot yet make the leap of faith. Anyway, I'm driving on the road along the beach and the South China Sea, the scenery is breathtaking, and I'm having too much fun going straight to bother with turning.

I eventually come upon a mountain pass that leads out of town into the country. What the hell. When I reach the other side, I decide it best to turn back given I have no map. Although when I turn around to start heading back up the pass, there are signs that seem to indicate it is a one way road and I'm not able to travel the direction from which I just came. As I'm figuring out exactly what to do, a motorbike passes me going the direction I want to go. I look again at the road sign, which I've never seen before, but surely it must mean no entry. And then another bike goes up the pass. I sit a while longer, and then a third bike. This deliberation process of mine goes on for about ten minutes before I decide my best option is to travel back up the pass, the wrong way as best as I can figure.

I successfully make it back to town and try to visit the ruins to which I had initially set out. Still wary of making turns in traffic, I must have passed it about five times never quite figuring out how to get inside. Screw it. I've seen enough ruins on this trip already, these ones can't be much better. I'll just drive around instead. And so I spent most of the day cruising around Nha Trang on a motorbike. (I am happy to report, however, that I did make it to one temple of cultural significance.)

There was a time in my life when I was set on buying a motorcycle; I even got as far as scouring the classifieds for a ride. My dream as I was leaving Colorado was to travel the length of Highway 1 on the California coast before cruising cross-country. It of course never materialized and my open-road, open-air ambitions gave way to an older, more sensible self. But maybe, just maybe, Nha Trang has given me the bug once more.