Central highland bliss

Today was a day for giving thanks to the women responsible for front and rear suspension, and sports bras.  The road out of Da Lat was just like the road in to Da Lat, only more so.  This time, the pot-holes were shin deep in tepid, ochre puddles.  Try as you might to find a dry path between, sometimes the only thing for it is to hoist your feet up on the fuel tank, open the throttle, and hope for the best.  

Blandy came a cropper rather early in the piece.  (For those who may have placed a cheeky wager on Bry being the first to take a spill, you can kiss your filthy money goodbye).  This friendly guy (Juan, pictured) came out of his shed to thwack her foot peg back into place and offer a sticky green poultice for her second best knee (declined).

Aside from that hiccup, this was the perfect day.  Stunning vistas, beautiful skies, choice company.  For most of the ride, we were treated to a 360º panorama of bright green fields stretching way back to the mountains.

This is a massive coffee-growing region. Heaps of the houses had big tarps spread out in front with beans drying out in the sun. We stopped in and were allowed to take a closer look (and a little nibble).

Housing in the highlands is basic and beautiful.  Way up here you make do with what you've got on hand.  Usually lots of dirt, timber, corrugated iron, and a national flag. There mustn't be too many visitors up these ways, judging by the number of folks who came out to wave and shout Hello.

The strange contraption in the bottom left of this image is a common mode of transport. It has the sound (and pace) of a tractor, and it chugs along the open road towing a ginormous trailer-load of livestock or produce. The driver sits on the front of the trailer and steers with those elongated handlebars. If the corner is a sharp one he has to lean so far out to the side that he might as well just jump off.

Here's a shot of one being driven. It's a typical country-road scene round these parts.

But easily the pick of the dwellings were those that floated on the lake at Daklak. We saw maybe a dozen of these as we crossed over the bridge, and wondered what it would be like to grow up there, swimming over to your next door neighbour's to play, or chilling in the hammock on the back deck on a lazy Sunday.

This little 4-Square was a friendly place to stop and rest our saddle-weary cheeks. Everybody wants to have a chat at times like these. The fact that nobody understands each other makes little difference, except that the conversation is funnier and a bit more interesting.

Lunch was cooked up and served to us at one of the many little roadside shelters.  For 10,000 dong each (about 60 kiwi cents) a very smiley lady made us bean sprout omelettes, salad greens & rice paper for turning them into spring rolls, with the one of the tastiest little dipping sauces I think I've ever come across. (Don't worry, the shrimp one wasn't ours. As well as 'thank you' and 'sorry' we now also know how to say 'vegetarian'. And thanks to the influence of Buddhism in the region, we have no trouble sourcing a meal)

All in all, it was another excellent day. These views are the memories of Vietnam we'll definitely be taking away with us.