Beaches, Buddhas, and Beer Part I/III: The Longest Journey

This weekend was arguably the most ridiculous weekend in an already ridiculous summer. As such, three separate posts will be required to even scratch the surface of my experience. I met my co-workers and some of my students in the beach towns of Phan Thiet and Mui Ne, hiked a mountain in search of a Big Ass (49 meters) Buddha statue, and was involved in numerous authentic Vietnamese Shenanigans.

Part I: Driving my motorbike from Sai Gon to Phan Thiet, an eight hour trip that consisted mostly of coastal roads.

Part II: Exploring the All-World caliber natural entities of Viet Nam. From the awesome vanity of Mui Ne's beaches to the sacred temple complex atop Ta Cu mountain.

Part III: Nhau session (READ: Vietnamese people drinking heavily while singing catchy songs) session at a student's family's house in Phan Thiet, and our hilariously illegal trip home. The second part was much like The Sound of Music. I Don't mean the cute Austrian school outfit singing bit, but the hiding from Nazis bit. Anyway, part I:

The Police, aka The Fuzz, The Po, 5-0, Pigs, or Cảnh Sát

When I told everyone that I was going to motorbike along the coast and meet them all there, they were all horrified for two justifiable reasons. First, their collective opinions of my motorbiking skills pales in comparison to my own. Second, they were positive that I would get caught up by the highway police for not having a license (which I obviously do if the Po happens to be reading this). I told them they were all being silly, and left my apartment at 4:00am to avoid traffic.

Literally down the street from my apartment I got waved down by Los Federales for a lane violation. Lets get one thing clear here: Not since HCMC had been the Khmer fishing village of Prey Nokor many thousands of years ago has anyone received a fucking lane violation. There are more lane violations called in an NBA preseason game.

Anyway, between cursing myself for being an idiot and on the verge of involuntarily shitting my pants from fear, I think I managed to keep a straight enough face. I quickly adopted the oldest traveling trick in the book, only speaking English and acting like a confused, asshole American. eventually it worked and he was frustrated enough to whip out his handy Chart-o-Corruption. After calculating the variables, I was able to resume my journey for 200,000 VND, or roughly $10 USD.

HCMC to Bien Hoa

I crossed the Sai Gon Bridge, continued on the Ha Noi Highway, and drove 20-something kilometers to the crossroad town of Bien Hoa. Without a doubt, leaving the city was the most confusing mess I've ever experienced. If it wasn't at 4am, I would have surely died. At random times the highway separates from truck-car- and motorbike-lanes divided by a median without warning, only to reconnect through gaps in the wall as the motorbike lane evolves into an exit towards some unknown part of town. Large portions of this road resembles a deep trench, with giant walls on either side. The concept of a motorbike lane becomes nonexistent, and the motorbikes are forced to drive on the margins, next to the giant trucks and buses.

There also happened to be a power outage at this point, so visibility was at an all-time low. Combined with the fact that there was thunder down the highway and still being shaken up from the police, I was seriously considering if this was such a advisable life decision, or if I was even going to make it alive. However I arrived at Bien Hoa, found the fabled traffic circle, and merged onto Highway 51 towards Vung Tau and the coast as the sun began to breath life back into me.

Bien Hoa to Long Hai





Unlike the road to Bien Hoa, which was packed with large trucks that constantly shat-ed fumes in my face and surrounded by Soviet-era concrete, the highway from Bien Hoa to the small coastal village of Long Hai was much more empty and was flanked by endless rice fields and water buffalo. I stopped at another crossroads town by the name of Ba Ria to eat breakfast (Bo Kho, a sort of beef stew eaten with bread. Diggity Dank), served by a certain type of cranky hag. About two hours later on this highway and I would finally make it to the coast.

Long Hai to Dinh Chau







Supposedly there is a coastal highway called the Long Hai-Dinh Chau highway. While I did enjoy a 4-5 hour ride along the beach, I'm not sure if I was ever on that mysterious highway because Long Hai is confusing as shit and I got quite lost. The man or woman in charge of putting up road signs definitely needs improvement. I entered Long Hai via Highway 51, but that highway quickly dissolves into smaller roads and alleyways. It took a decent amount of time backtracking and making a fool of myself as I kept reappearing in front of the same curious stall keepers in the Long Hai maze of a market before I finally found an escape.

Once I finally found the coast, it was smooth sailing from then on out. For those 4-5 hours, the coast would alternate between uninhabited stretches of pristine beaches, sleepy fishing villages, and massive resort developments. I was also able to test the true strength of Michelle Obama, although concern for my safety kept the speed just under triple digits at its peak. Yes, pathetic compared to a motorcycle, but hey at least I got to enjoy a beautiful stretch of the Pacific Coast from the other side.

Dinh Chau to Phan Thiet

The coastal road ended at a town called Dinh Chau, where I would have to go inland, pass La Gi, and take another hour and a half towards Phan Thiet. By now I was getting a little exhausted. You know when you drive long distances in a car and you play that really safe sleep-for-two-seconds-at-a-time game? Yeah I was definitely involved with that. Anyway this road featured some larger towns along the way, but once again more rice fields and water buffalo.

Also, the water buffalo tend to be situated right on the side of the highway and there was considerably more oncoming traffic. Whenever a large oncoming truck or bus wanted to pass a motorbike in front of them, they would have to go onto my lane to do so because they were so large in comparison to the road, and I would have to veer off a bit into the dirt. A few times they pulled this maneuver when the road was lined with buffalo. I never thought I would ask myself if I would rather die by machine or bovine, but that question instinctively popped into my mind.

Eight hours and the most brutal farmer's tan later, I arrived in Phan Thiet, had a cold 333 beer, and met up with my colleagues and students. Although it was definitely frightening at first, and frustrating at times throughout, I would highly suggest anyone who visits Vietnam to rent a bike for a few days and take an extended trip up the coast. The scenery is really beautiful and after you trust yourself enough, quite relaxing as well. Despite my long day, it was only around noon and the real weekend was about to start.