Vietnam VIII, Kham Duc

I started in the early morning in Hoi An, to make sure that I could ride more than 250 kilometers to Kontum. But on this day, I should not arrive in Kontum. Instead, I learned the frustrating aspects of being a Minsk owner.
The first one and a half hours passed relatively easily, I missed a turn, but came back on the right road. After that I filled up my bike, it only run few kilometers further on, and then it broke down. My attempts to restart it failed. I pushed the bike to the next workshop. Thus began my repair odyssey.
The first mechanic’s attempts lasted for 45 minutes, half of the time I had to use kick-start. When the first mechanic realized that his Minsk-specific knowledge was not sufficient for the repair, he called in a colleague. The second mechanic drove up on an old Honda. His mustache showed additional expertise. He confirmed the impression replacing a missing gasket with a cut out piece of cigarette packaging. After another 40 minutes, he brought my bike back to life. How could I doubt the glorious Minsk only for a minute?
I went with the hope that this was the only unexpected stop. But after eight kilometers, the Minsk fell silent again. I was frustrated. In the next workshop, mechanic number three went to work. He tried his best, but localized the problem at the wrong place. His conclusion was that he could fix it with the right spare part, but that he couldn’t obtain anywhere near. My mood worsened again. I wondered how I could continue my journey. Ultimately I decided to seek a second (fourth) opinion.
After I had pushed my bike for 50 meters, a motorcycle tour guide stopped next to me and offered to help. With his help I could specifically ask for a mechanic with Minsk-experience. Ten kilometers away, there was one. I was towed by a scooter there. It took mechanic number four half an hour of work to get the Minsk running again. After a few kilometers the bike broke down in the same manner as before. The second trial of mechanic number four was success.
Having spent five hours at repair shops, I drove on. At an intersection I followed the signs for the Ho Chi Minh Highway. It was the most beautiful stretch of road I've driven on in Vietnam so far, the disadvantage of this road was that was that I was going North instead of South. After 30 kilometers going in the wrong direction, I realized my mistake and turned around.
With my accumulated delay I had no chance to reach my intended destination for the day Kontum. Instead, I went in this direction as far as I could make it until dusk. I ended up in a hotel in the small town of Kham Duc. This time I was definitely far off the beaten path.

Kham Duc

Vietnam I, Hanoi

The border crossing into my thirteenth country on this trip was easy. In a parking lot just across the border, the Vietnamese bus was waiting to bring us to Hanoi.
In Hanoi, we had to depart the bus somewhere, there was no bus station and the streets were not listed on my map. In retrospect I can say that the place was more than ten kilometers away from the apartment of my couchsurfing host Bao. Bao is a nice but also very busy man, he had, despite studies, English courses and a small import business of his, found some time to introduce me to Vietnamese culture.
On the second day in Hanoi I was on an important mission. About a month ago I came to the conclusion, that I could not let this great trip end by spending two months at the beaches of South East Asia. At least not from one touristic center to the next. After some research I discovered that some Vietnam tourists buy motorcycles to explore the country. Technically this is illegal as long as one does not have a Vietnamese driver's license. Moreover, there is no insurance. But usually the police doesn’t bother tourists.
My mission was therefore to buy a motorcycle in Hanoi. The reliable two bikes from Honda were not love at first sight. Therefore I followed the sometimes irrational line of my trip and bought an orange Minsk. Minsk motorcycles had been an important part of the vehicle fleet in Vietnam for a long time. They are practically indestructible and big and strong enough for almost all transport requirements in Vietnam. However, the Minsk is largely a part of Vietnamese history, because they combine a high level of gasoline consumption with a legendary unreliability. Therefore in addition to my Minsk I bought a large plastic bag of spare parts.
After I had bought my bike, I was able to move freely in Hanoi. My impression of Hanoi changed. Before, I was tied to the district in which Bao lived and the tourist center old town, then I made my across the city traffic. There are many great places in Hanoi. The traffic on the roads from a pedestrians point of view looks terrifying. From the perspective of a motorcyclists after a while it is great, as long as one is not to scare easily. For motorcycles in urban areas basically no traffic rules apply, traffic lights can be ignored, bigger vehicles should be respected.
The sights in Hanoi were quite good but not outstanding, so I leave them out at this point.
On the fourth day, the day of my departure, I kick-started my bike at 8 o’clock and got on the way out of Hanoi. After five Kilometer still in Hanoi monsoon rains stopped me, so I had an extensive breakfast. Then I bought a rain jacket and made my way to the mountains to Mai Chau. At about 10:30, I crossed the city limits of Hanoi.