It all happened as part of the Aussie Invasion, no not the one during the Vietnam/American war. It was the one where we were delighted to be able to show some of our friends the beauty of this country. It all started with Brian, another one of those Australians who has decided to make Vietnam a part of home. Brian made the move, joining the growing number of Aussies sharing their English skills. He needed to take a trip to Dalat, in the central highlands, to collect some belongings left there on a previous visit. James was rubbing his hands together. He had already had a weekend in Dalat playing golf and saw this as an opportunity to play there again. Here a problem arose. Brian is not a devotee of the tee.
Malaysian Airlines delivered an unsuspecting victim. Darryl arrived for his little holiday in the country and plans were afoot to show him this particular part of the country. While the boys were planning a weekend in Dalat, I had to work. But not one to miss out, I arranged a flight to stay for a day. Darryl rose to hero status, spending two days on the golf course with James(he said he enjoyed it) and then spending a day with me doing a motorcycle tour of the countryside.
Dalat is a pretty city, resembling a mountain town in Europe. The streets are steep and are wrapped around a hub of markets. The nights are cool but bustling, with stalls popping up on roadsides. A lake surrounded by slopping grass looks up to beautiful old buildings, a remnant of history.
The golf course sits high, looking down on the town. The surrounding gardens are well tended and would be the envy of many living with the droughts in Australia. Dalat is the garden city of Vietnam. Here flowers are grown for the markets throughout Vietnam, picked and shipped daily to the bigger cities.
On our motorcycle tour, Darryl and I stopped to smell the roses grown in glasshouses. Roses, gerberas, lisianthus, gladdies, chrysanthamums, to name just a few that we drove past. Plants were tended by women wearing conical hats, no water restrictions limiting watering.
We were told by our guides that Dalat's main market had been in vegetables but with cheaper goods grown over the Chinese border, demand had dropped off, so flowers became more profitable.
Darryl and I had a bike and guide each and they took us up through the mountains and coffee plantations. These fragrant little bushes were in flower and grow at different heights, depending on the type of coffee. It was while we had lunch that we drank the local coffee which has to be the best coffee I have ever had, just delicious.
We were taken to a silk factory and saw the production of silk fabric, rather smelly as they boil the cocoons before spinning off the fine thread. Large noisy looms weave the thread into the delicate fabric which is transformed into the soft silky garments available just about everywhere in this country.
Through hillside villages and to a fantastic Buddhist temple, such a quiet retreat, peaceful and reviving. The view from the front steps was great and we could hear the roar of the waterfall not far away.
We followed our guides to the fenced edge to look over at the waterfall, a sight spoiled by the bags of rubbish building up against the rocks. Such a great tourist attraction if not for the rubbish. A path led us over a narrow bridge and then down. The steps were rocks, packed out with concrete, steep and uneven. I got half way and was ready to quit. All I could think was what James would say if I slipped and broke an ankle. But with the gentle coaxing of Darryl and our guide I kept going, with lots of help from my friends. I was so glad I did. Apart from being cooler at the bottom, sprayed by a fine mist of falling water, it was so pretty. Well worth the climb. Trouble was,I knew I had to do it in reverse. What a sight I must have been, climbing up, clinging to rocks, on my knees at times, grabbing branches. It was a feeling of achievement getting to the top with all bones intact.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a place called the Crazy House. Designed by some famous woman who obviously must have weird dreams, this place is a cross between Magic Mountain and Stormy Summers parlor. It apparently is a hotel, but you would have to have a strange sense of humor to stay there. Created in concrete, each room has a theme, bears, flowers, fake cobwebs, mirror ceilings.....just bizarre, real fantasy land.
As it got cooler and darker we headed back toward the city centre and our hotel. Brian was still there and together the three of us wandered down to the fun of the market. Lots of bargains, smiles and jokes. We wandered up and down, through the dark streets with little stalls, eventually finding a stall that sold a type of tapioca pudding that Darryl liked. Dinner was at a small restaurant with tables on the footpath.
Next morning off to the airport and back to reality with work in the afternoon. Plus, we had to get ready for the arrival of John and Judy, we still had lots of fun to have.
But it was a perfect day.
