The bus dropped us somewhere in the middle of Nha Trang. This wasn't somewhere I felt I wanted to stay because I hadn't heard great things about it. Yes I'd heard it had some amazing beaches but I was going to Oz after and would get my fair share there. It was apparently THE tourist hotspot and a great place to do watersports but I was here to see the real Vietnam not the place everyone else goes to. So I got off the bus and the locals swarmed on us like locusts. It was exactly as I had imagined. "Where you stay?". "You want cheap hotel?". "You want taxi?". This while I'm loading the bike with my bits. Dipstick! I say no thank you and after repeated "Where you go?" questions I just snap "DALAT" at them. They leave me alone. I check Google maps for a petrol station and after loading my one water bottle of fuel into the tank I head there to fill up. I pull up and two children come over immediately holding out their hands begging like a scene from 'Oliver'. I say no, sorry but they stay none the less. I need to get out of here. With my tank filled and my rucksack strapped back on I don my helmet and gloves. The children, still holding out their hands, take the hint and eventually head off to someone else. I check my route and head off. On the way out of town I stop at a baguette stand at the side of the road and buy breakfast which I plan to eat part way to Dalat. It should only take about two and a half hours to get there but the sun is out and already incredibly warm and the road promises some good scenery, so thought I could afford the time to stop to eat. There are only really two possible routes to Dalat so I wasn't that worried about getting lost but checked the milestone markers to make sure anyway. The sun was warm on my back and the roads were good, so I took it nice and easy. About halfway the roads started heading up into the mountains and over my left side I caught a glimpse of a good view back over the valley so decided to stop at the next traverse of the road up the mountain to enjoy it. Where I stopped was the perfect setting for my breakfast. It was about half 8 in the morning now and there were hardly any vehicles on the road. So i pulled over, took off my gloves, helmet and small rucksack strapped to my front and stretched. I bathed in the warm morning light, got out my baguette (not a euphemism), leant against the bike, took a bite and contemplated the world. The view across the valley, although not high, was still incredible. I think, for a change, the photo did capture this one. I was really enjoying this ride despite still being on my own. The stop gave me time to think about why. The only answer I could come up with was the sun, and therefore the warmth. The route was certainly not as high as in the north and therefore not as breathtaking, but being able to feel my hands and feet and knowing the roads weren't that hazardous made it better and more relaxing. Some of the scenes so far since leaving Nha Trang reminded me of Australia, like the red dirt, and the pastures of what looked similar to grape vines, and this got me looking forward to my biking adventures there where the sun was pretty much guaranteed. I stopped for about twenty minutes and decided that was long enough so jumped back on the bike and rode on. A little further up the road the mountain path reached its peak just before diving behind another mountain so I stopped once more to enjoy the slightly higher view along with a coach of Russians before continuing. The road meandered along slowly nearing Dalat. I stopped a couple of times to check my route but everything was on track. The sun got higher and hotter and the scenery changed little until a few kilometres from Dalat where, instead of beautiful green pastures, the hillsides started to become covered in loads and loads of plastic covered greenhouse tunnels. This soon became a sea of them. I stopped to take a few photos. I couldn't decide if this was a desecration of the landscape or another version of man made beauty with the mountainous backdrop. Similar I think to seeing a whole city from above lit up at night. Is it bad because of the greenery that's been torn down to create the city or beautiful because of the lights that twinkle in their many colours. You're going to have to be your own judges on this one. Dalat is famous for growing many flowers and strawberries and so must be what is being cultivated inside these huge tunnels. I wondered if this was in fact what the centre of Dalat would look like but knew there was only one way to find out. Onwards. My route slowly dropped out the mountains and levelled out as I approached the town and I realised that as I braked to slow down for the bends my brake lever was getting closer to the throttle grip each time I used it. I stopped to investigate. I had a leak from the brake cylinder on the handle which must have occurred during transit on the bus. After a short weigh up of the pros and cons to carrying on I decided to get it sorted in Dalat and would use my back brake as much as possible till then so the front brake was there in case I needed to use it in an emergency. Time was of the essence. More haste less speed. Ride like the wind. Don't spare the horses. One in the hand is worth two in the....no that doesn't work. Just ride you tit. And so finally into Dalat I arrived to be greeted with a beautiful lake, flowers everywhere, and a mini Eiffel tower! This was definitely a French influenced town. Lonely planet says tourists call it 'Le Petit Paris' and to a degree that's not untrue. The buildings are more French colonial than socialist architecture and the weird part is that because of this the Vietnamese people then look like they should be the tourists and I should be a local. Massively outnumbered of course. The signposts and shop labels stand out and look wrong against this background and the tidiness of everything doesn't gel with the Vietnamese mindset of littering that I saw in Hanoi. There are people constantly going round the other cities collecting rubbish in their bins on wheels to keep the litter at bay but I couldn't see any here. It's an odd mix but it somehow just works. With my phone in my hand and me slowly crawling along the roads I found the location of the hotel that I had again booked via email whilst on the night bus. This one was above a bakery and that was my main reason for booking it just in case I struggled with food again. I had a back up. I pulled up outside and after a couple of minutes was approached by the hotel receptionist. "You need hotel"? he asked. I told him I had a booking and he nodded. "400,000 per night" he said. "No" I said. "I was told 300'000". He says "Ok 350,000". I reply "I've booked for 300,000. I'll show you". Whilst still arguing for 350,000 I ignore him and pull up the email on my phone stating the price. He looks. "Aaaah, sorry Mr Parish. Yes I see. Right this way". Cheeky git! I grab my rucksack and follow him to a room with no windows but very modern and perfectly acceptable for 2 nights. Especially for 9 quid a night. I could have booked a hostel but needed to charge my gadgets without worrying about leaving them out and looked forward to not having to queue for the shower. Plus it had a TV. Good times. I got a few bits sorted but knew I'd need to get the front brake repaired before dark and so went back out to try and find a place to do that. I found one place but after trying to point at the problem and sign what it was he just topped the reservoir up and bled it for 30p. That wasn't a long term solution. I then found a phone shop as my credit on the phone had run out and knew I could only get this sorted with the help of the translator from Hanoi motorbikes. Phone topped up i continued my search. I found another place, telephoned the translator, explained the situation and then handed the phone to the mechanic which he found highly odd like he'd never seen a phone before. He listened then spoke for a bit and handed it back. The translator then said he'd write down what I needed doing and point me to somewhere else with my note. I thanked her and hung up. The mechanic did neither of these. After 5 minutes another bloke there, however, simply grunted and did some hand gestures up the road. Giving up I nodded and rode off. A little further up the road I saw some 15 year old working on some bikes so stopped and repeated the process with the translator which again he found confusing but after yet another long conversation, during which time his family had come out to witness, he hung up and handed my phone back to me. He then walked over to my bike turned it around and started wheeling it back down the road. I didn't really know what to do but after his mum (I think) shouted something and gestured after him, I followed. He took me to a place between him and my first stop and started undoing the plastic panels surrounding the brake handle. I assumed he must be something to do with this place but after a while someone else took over and he disappeared. After a brief inspection the owner who spoke a reasonable amount of English said I'd need a new brake handle and cylinder which would cost 400,000 dong fitted. About 12 quid. I rang the translator to make sure I wasn't being done on price and after a discussion with the owner she got it down to 320,000. Deal. The owner poured me a cup of tea and offered me a seat and the bike was repaired in front of me while we discussed England and my travels. It had taken me a while to get to this point but once there I was very satisfied with the treatment and the result. The bike sorted I thanked them, said goodbye and returned to the hotel. It was about 3 o'clock now and I was pretty exhausted so crashed for a couple of hours with the TV on in the hotel room. When I awoke I watched the end of the movie that was on and then got up to shower. The advert said Iron Man 3 was on next. I tried to resist but failed and so grabbed a couple of snacks from the bakery and settled down for the film. What a lazy evening. I forced myself into the shower after and went out for some proper food. I got a recommendation from the hotel receptionist and headed there for a variation on noodle soup. On the way back to the hotel my thirst for a beer got the better of me and I stopped off at a bar for a quick bottle whilst enjoying some Rod Stewart and Boyz II Men! Nice. I was the only one there. I filled myself up with one more bottle before taking the long way back to the hotel to see some of the town by night. Back at the hotel I caught the start of one more movie, which was so good I can't remember what it was, I think Steven Siegel, before heading to bed and getting some well earned sleep.
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