Vietnam VIX, Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City)

I went to Saigon in the morning with the intention to sell my motorcycle. But after the "repairs" on the previous day, my chances of this declined enormously. I worked my way through traffic and found a hostel in the backpacker area of ​​Saigon. "Maybe there is some budget traveler, who has a heart for a Russian diva", I thought. My attempts to sell it were extensive - flyers, internet ads, direct contact and the counter-offer to buy my bike to all the streets vendors I met. Ultimately, everything failed. The only option left was to sell it to a shop. The first shop owner, whom I called had recently acquired four cheap Minsks and therefore wasn't interested. The second complained about the bad market in Saigon at the time, but I was offered $ 100. Since I only had little time left in Saigon, I decided to accept the $ 100 offer. Upon closer examination of the registration and the motorcycle the shop owner noted that the engine number does not match that in the papers. Another failure. On my last afternoon in Saigon, I had a loud motorcycle with false papers in my possession. Annoyed, I tried to call my dealer in Hanoi. He explained to me that the engine has been replaced. A very unsatisfying answer. Since I was more than 1000 kilometers from Hanoi, I had no other choice than to accept this. I drove one last round through Saigon, then I put the Minsk into a supermarket parking lot. I probably give the keys to someone who travels to Saigon.
Apart from the bad experience trying to sell my bike, I had a good time in Saigon. In the evening there was beer for $ 0.5 sold in street cafes and I met some nice and interesting people. The coincidence would have it, that I ran into Scott, whom I had met two weeks earlier in Hoi An.
An interesting but very depressing experience was the Museum of War Remnants in Saigon. This museum focuses at the war crimes during the Vietnam War, by the U.S. and its allies. Unfortunately, the atrocities of the Viet Cong are not shown. The images of napalm, phosphorus and Agent Orange victims are profoundly depressing.
After four days in Saigon I took the bus to Phnom Penh. The only thing I had left of my motorcycle trip through Vietnam, were a motorcycle helmet and the memories of this great time.

Photos in the war remnants museum

Independence Day celebrations

Vietnam XIII, Vung Tau

I was driving on a coastal road from Mui Ne to Vung Tau. Fishing villages and hotel resorts divided the stretch of beach amongst each other. I was pleased with my bike until about forty kilometers off Vung Tau. At this point, I heard a clicking sound. Twenty kilometers still to go, there was a loud bang from inside the Minsk, the drive chain had broken. As always in such cases, I pushed the bike to the next workshop. There the mechanic started to work, immediately. But instead fixing the chain, he worked at the clutch. After ten minutes, during which he had badly adjusted my clutch, he followed my suggestion and opened the right panel. Then he had his lunch break, not too bad, so I could eat at a restaurant, as well. About forty minutes after the end of my lunch break, the mechanics showed up with a new chain. The process of replacing the chain took forever and during it, my kick-start was heavily damaged. In addition, the chain was a bit too long, so from that point on there was a loud clicking sound when my bike was running.
The bike was working again but the repair was not satisfactory at all. The new chain was too long, my clutch screwed and the kick-start only working to a limited degree. My position on the repair didn't suit the mechanic. He was convinced, that he had repaired the bike. There was a tense atmosphere. The mechanic asked for more than a fair amount of money for his work. This brought me to the brink of physical assault. But instead of throwing punches, I threw the money in his direction and left.
In the early evening I arrived in Vung Tau. The people of Vung Tau must have heard my bike from miles away. The experience in the workshop had ruined my day. I limited myself to the basics (shelter, food, beer) and was glad, that my built-up aggression did not unloaded itself at some street vendor.

No chance of getting tanned at the time I arrived at the beach.

Vietnam XII, Mui Ne

The way to Mui Ne followed highway 28. Any relationship to the word highway is in this road out of place. It is in places only wide enough for one car and steep switchbacks guaranteeing low truck traffic. Good conditions for motorcycle riders, if they do not have to deal with a gearlever coming loose, again. Somehow, I managed to drive 40 km in third gear. Then I got lever welded back in position.
Saturday afternoon I arrived at the beach resort of Mui Ne and found a guest house. My sleeping place cost me $5, including a balcony with sea view. The restaurant area of the guesthouse was attractively designed and food and drinks were cheap. While I was there, I chatted with the guesthouse owner and her son, who had come to visit.
A walk along the beach and a swim in the sea, where I was hit by the full force of the surf more than once followed the talk. In the evening I went into one of the open-air seafood restaurants across the street from my guest house to get dinner. Good food, cold beer and the view over the waves, dimly lit by the moonlight - it could have been worse.
On the second day I went to the sand dunes in the wider Mui Ne area. First I wanted to go to the farthest dune. But my spark plug went loose more than once, leading to some unintentional stops. Eventually I started to get bored, the idea to test my Minsk on a sand track popped up in my mind. Downhill, I could keep the bike on the slopes well, but in a flat part it stopped running. I had to bear the consequences and push a heavy white Russian motorcycle up a sand road under the merciless sun. After this experience, I turned around and stopped at the first dunes. A cold beverage, an action movie roll in the sand and a few photos later, I drove back towards Mui Ne. On the way to Mui Ne, I stopped twice. The first stop was to satisfy my spontaneous curiosity. I saw a row of small fish sauce factories, and wanted to know what exactly went on in there. With a little gesticulation I could explain what I wanted and was allowed to take pictures in the factory. The second stop was in Mui Ne; there you can follow up a river to a waterfall. Once all the children, that market themselves as guides, left behind the place stands up to its name (fairy spring). The river is not more than forty centimeters deep, and flows through a valley of dunes, sand stone and lush growth of plants.
In the afternoon I was again talking at length with the owner of my guest house. Eventually we went from my current job status to her son. He had the best qualifications to compete for a job at a bank in Saigon, but only got the job after a sum of $3,000 went to the director of the bank. His mother's savings were gone.
Before I left the next morning, the guesthouse owner read the future from my palm lines. It does not look bad for me, after all.

Fish sauce factory I

Fish sauce factory II

Vietnam XI, Dalat

After three nights in the bars and clubs of Nha Trang, getting up early was hard for me. My mood worsened when I saw the flat front tire on my bike. All in all a bad start to a bad day.
Once my tire was patched, I set off to the highlands of Vietnam. My destination for the day was Dalat. Dalat is known for its French look and feel. Moreover, the climate in the highlands of Vietnam is much milder than in the rest of the country.
Before I continue writing about Dalat, I must describe in detail what happened on the way. I rode my bike from Nha Trang on secondary roads to Dalat. My gearlever caused me quite some problems, before but on the first section of this road it failed me all the way. The gearlever slipped permanently from the worn gear wheels of the corresponding shaft. I could not change the gears any more and had to consult a mechanic. The mechanic was able to fix the problem. However as so frequently in Vietnam only provisionally. I drove on and was soon in the midst of an ascent, which meanders for kilometers up the mountain. The bike went well despite my misgivings. Until the time as the provisional fix no longer worked. I drove in second gear until the motorcycle went out on a particularly steep spot. Without villages and thus mechanic in direct proximity, I had to fix the problem myself. After a short time I was joined by a Vietnamese couple and demoted from chief mechanic to spear carrier. My ego could cope with that and a little later I went on with a new provisional fix in place. When that no longer worked again I was fed up. I stood on the roadside next to my motorcycle and tried to stop trucks or buses to get a lift to Dalat.
After several failed attempts, I stopped a truck, but this one was too big and so the driver of truck one stopped a smaller truck. We agreed on a price, and shortly afterwards I went in the cab of truck one while my bike in the back truck two followed us. After 25 kilometers we stopped at a garage for trucks. There, the screw was replaced by a welded seam.
The rest of the way to Dalat I drove through rain at temperatures, that for me at this stage of my journey were only slightly above freezing (20 degrees Celsius).
I found a cheap guesthouse in Dalat off the main tourist stream. The cold rainy weather went on outside the hotel room, I ignored it as good as possible and ended the bad day in front of the television.
After the first bad day in Dalat, the second was only marginally better. I drove through the city in the morning until rain made me fled to the save haven of an internet cafe. When the rain was over I wanted to move on, but my Minsk had chosen not to. The first three mechanics on this road didn’t want to touch my Minsk, and then I found someone who tried but failed to repair it. I needed a specialist for Minsk bikes.
To determine whether there is someone in Dalat, I went to the Easy Rider Cafe. The Easy Riders are a group of motorcycle tour guides, who have adequate knowledge of English and of the area in order to create attractive tours. Mr. Binh or easier to remember Mr Bean had been a great help to find the Minsk workshop and rent a truck for transporting the motorcycle there. At the workshop the owner Sinh, a native of the North Vietnamese owners, started to work on the bike immediately. After two hours Sinh came to the conclusion that he had to open the engine. For me this meant another day in Dalat.
Later that day I walked into the city again and found that Dalat has its share of beautiful sites. But my bad mood, due to the continued bad weather and problems of my Minsk, clouded this impression.
The third day was by far the best in Dalat. I could pick up my motorcycle. A new cylinder and electronics should fix the problems. My suspicion about Dalat leads to the fact that I did very little on this day. I did not want to risk another bad day in Dalat.
Early in the morning of the fourth day I said goodbye to the guest house owners and drove towards the coast. A few days on the beach should make the chaos of my stay in Dalat forgotten.

Vietnam X, Nha Trang

The road from the highlands to the coast was excellent on the bike. Other road users had slightly more problems with the bends.
I came from the north to the city and thus had the pleasure to ride along most of the beach promenade.
When I went in my dorm room during lunch time and found half of the guests still in deep sleep, I thought of this as a good indication that Nha Trang's reputation as the party capital of Vietnam is true.
I spent the day at the town beach. The beach is very good for an urban beach and unique in the offshore amusement island Vinpearl. A cable car connects the mainland with Vinpearl. But ultimately urban beaches are always the second choice to secluded coves in my opinion.
The nightlife in Nha Trang was good. In the evening, the tourists head out to a handful of bars. Later everybody goes to a club with private beach. The audience there is a good mix of tourists, local partygoers and the in Southeast Asia inevitable prostitutes. At two ends in the morning the music is turned off, at least on weekdays, some of those eager to party continue to other bars, but nightlife is largely over. I had three very good nights in Nha Trang.
The beach life on the first day had not convinced me and so I went to explore the surrounding area on the second day. After reading the Nha Trang article on Wikitravel, I decided to drive to Long Beach 25 kilometers south of Nha Trang. The road to the beach offers a magnificent panorama on the stretch of coast. Arriving at the beach I was very pleased. The beach was lined with huts selling cheap drinks and seafood. After half a day of absolute relaxation on the beach I decided to prolong my stay by one day, to enjoy the beach and nightlife.

Other road user

Fisherman

Vinpearl

Long Beach from my point of view

Vietnam IX, Buon Ma Thout

At seven in the morning I left Kam Duc with the goal to arrive in my originally planned destination for the day. So I had to go the planned distance for the day plus 120 km from the previous day. The streets were unfortunately not worthy of the name in some parts. At least this time the bike was running smoothly. After 390 kilometers, or 9 hours I did arrive in Buon Ma Thout.
There I checked into a cheap hotel, which was situated next to a big supermarket. After the exertions of the day I had satellite television in my room. I spent the evening in my room and watched the action star ensemble of "The Expendables". Since I was not in the mood to explore the city and only had food stalls a few steps away from my hotel, I could not gain further impression on Buon Ma Thout.

At the side of the road

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