Not our best ride

So on the back of our most perfect day yesterday, today has been the exact antonym of bliss.  Given the option of riding from Buon Ma Thouot (pronounced Bwan Ma Twot) to Pleiko or having needles jabbed in your eyeballs, I'd lean in favour of the needles.

On the upside, the road proved to be a good testing lab for:

1 our motorbike suspension (I bottomed out numerous times)

2 speaking about bottoms, the bumps tested our ability to keep our bums from flying off the seat

3 the waterproof-ness of our jackets (from rain and passing trucks driving through metre-wide puddles)

4 our boogers to trap dust particles effectively

5 our patience through practically 184km of nonstop roadworks on our 184km ride

It was a rotten ride, not gonna sugarcoat.  Started out wet and muddy, this is what our legs looked like after 15 minutes thanks to some Mac trucks and their timing through filthy puddles.  Not a smart day to wear new white socks, turns out!

The three sole pleasant points from the day were eating a lamington mid-morning, meeting Andreas a chirpy German motorbike traveller, and finding a tasty vegetarian restaurant for our dinner. The rest was almost comical.  

We rode 8am till 5pm in the rain, on battered roads that felt like their last grading happened six monsoons ago.  If there had been a pretty view we wouldn't have spotted it for all the concentrating on our route through the potholes.  Those craters littered the entire road.  After a while you grit your teeth and hope for the best.  At one point I looked over at Bry's bike, and her front forks we're going up and down so fast they reminded me of the needle in Rach's sewing machine!

In a lucky break in weather, we spied this cute house, and these camera-happy lads coming back from the fields.

It bucketed down mid avo, so we pulled under the corrugated iron shelter of a motorbike seat upholsterer guy. He's sitting there doing his job, cracking up with his clients about two soaked and grubby foreign girls and their request for an oil change.  Nah, his old fashioned sewing machine should've been an obvious clue, he doesn't get his hands dirty!  Finally pulling into Pleiku, our hotel graciously accepted two weary filthy travellers. That's kindness.

Finding vego Vietnamese food can be tricky, but check out the feast we got for $2.60 NZD.  Was totally yum, if you're round these ways, check out this place (the address is on the left of the shop sign).

Crashing into bed, it becomes obvious that Vietnamese like their karaoke pulsatingly loud, so much so that the cup and saucer in our room are jiggling with each thunderous beat. Hmm, tomorrow's bound to be better right?!