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Riding my bicycle across the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route
Where’s Francis? Follow along daily on my map: https://share.garmin.com/FrancisDavis (ask me for password)
My host, Scott, took me out for one of my favorite Vietnamese dishes, bun cha. Sweetened fish sauce broth with rice noodles, carrots, and grilled pork medallions. I started a little later than desired, but it was ok. Good to be back on the open road! It was already starting to get hot as I navigated my way out of Hoi An. Today I would be cutting East, back into the rural spine of the country to pick up the north-south Ho Chi Minh Road. About an hour into the road my stomach went on the fritz. I found a cafe and rushed into the bathroom. Now, I admitted to myself, it was time to find some Imodium. I found a pharmacy in the next town - I was hopeful to find something here. I’ve been to the pharmacies here now a few times, and each time is an adventure. Google Translate is usually sufficient, but sometimes it takes some reiteration and re-phrasing. I showed the pharmacist both a picture of Imodium and the active drug. Head shake. First, she offered me an herbal supplement. Not what I needed. Then live yeast samples. No. Finally, she pulled down “Axelrop” - same dosage and active ingredients of Imodium. Without health insurance, it was 10,000 VND ($.43USD) for 20 pills. I checked, in the U.S. the price is about $10USD for 24 pills. I popped a couple down and kept riding. Today’s road, the QL14E was very quiet. Cutting through small hamlets, lakes, and muddy rice paddies. A light drizzle in the afternoon actually cut through some of the heat and humidity. I was glad for that, and it gave the road a photogenic slick look.To be sure, it was nice to spend time in the tourist Mecca’s of Da Nang and Hoi An, eating hamburgers and chili poppers, but I was ready to get back into the thick of it. This is why I am here, to immerse and make myself vulnerable in Vietnam’s heartland. It’s prettier, too, in my opinion. Near the end of the ride, I rode over a dam holding back a seemingly massive amount of water. The surface was a clean silver shimmer with trees and mountains in the background. It was absolutely gorgeous, you’ll have to look at the pictures! I felt mentally prepared for the last 20kms of the day to be climbing, but I did not know that the lunch opportunities would end after 50kms. And so fueled by a Clif bar, two Gu shots, and the fierce desire not to have to ride in the dark, I pressed on. On a mostly empty stomach, the climb that should have been physically difficult became just as much of a mental battle. I’m happy to report that I made it into town before dusk, but only barely. Whether I seek it out or not, these physical trials have their place in the experience too. I’ll get into that more tomorrow. The town of Kham Duc is small, but with a surprisingly decent hotel where I had an interesting interaction. There was an Australian family of four “easy riding” through some portion of Vietnam. This means that each day they ride on the back of motorcycles piloted by local tour guides. They were really nice people, but I can’t imagine myself enjoying this kind of trip. I’ve really enjoyed bopping around on the back of the Grab transportation scooters in the cities, to be sure. But on these less trafficked, rural roads, it is much more appealing to be in control.
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There’s nothing like the slap of cool air on the face to wake you up. I was awake early, clinging to the back of a “Grab” scooter driving me towards a coffee shop and breakfast spot in Hoi An. I was going to meet and interview Manus Campbell, a U.S. war vet, expat, and charity organizer. This was exciting, as he was one of the first handful of people I reached out to while I was planning the trip. His story is interesting. Campbell, a marine serving in Vietnam in 1967 and 1968, moved here in 2010, starting his charity organization HIVOW (Helping Invisible Victims of War) to lift up orphans and children exposed to Agent Orange (sometimes both). He is here to heal some of the wrongs the U.S. perpetrated not too long ago. Manus and I sat on the patio of the local cafe. I didn’t pass on the opportunity for a French press and some scrambled eggs. After eating my breakfast and saving some coffee, I started the interview. Manus has a healthy beard of silvery white hair, the same color as what is thinning on his scalp - which might be the reason for his beret. He’s dressed casually: jeans and white tennis shoes. He looks to me to be at peace, or at least on the journey towards it. We talked a little bit about his story, but I wanted to get into my research topic - changing cultures and economies of Vietnam. I apologized to him in advance that this topic might not be as much in his “wheelhouse” as healing from the war, but what I came to realize is that there is overlap. One of the takeaways from conducting all of these interviews is that they each answer or address a piece of the puzzle. No interview tells the whole story. Manus’s was no different. What I did learn, though, is that in reflecting on cultural and economic change, the Vietnam war can not be forgotten. The legacies of Agent Orange and un exploded ordinants affect Vietnam. And while it is something that many (the Vietnamese included) would like to move on from, it’s not that simple. We all want to move on, but in that path towards the future we have to take into account the past. Agent Orange is still having profound affects on second and third generation Vietnamese people, not to mention American veterans (which the U.S. has done little to recognize). The importance, then, of Campbell’s organization HIVOW is to change the economic narrative. To lift up those who would otherwise be left behind. My interview with him opened up my mind towards the idea that cultural and economic change is just as much about legacy as it is about the future. Some numbers:
While Da Nang itself was not particularly worthwhile, I was able to spend most of the day with a mutual mutual friend, expat Ronnie Defour. He is Caribbean, raised in the U.S., lived in SoCal as a pharmaceutical salesman, and moved to Vietnam nine months ago to change it all. I don’t think he’s ever planning to move back; he loves it here. He teaches English part-time, works out constantly, and does some volunteer work. It seems like he’s really living. Part of this change in Vietnam that I am examining is caused by expats moving to the country with money, bringing their own traditions, and making waves. But I was interested in interviewing Ronnie because he comes off almost as the anti-expat. As he would call it, the “expat-local”. That is because, unlike many of the expats who have moved here, Ronnie chose to embed himself in the local community. For him, this new chapter of his life is all about cultural connection. Sipping on an iced Vietnamese coffee at his neighborhood shop, he tells me that he thinks that being an expat means engaging in a cultural exchange - giving a bit of yourself to the community but learning a lot in return. This is the kind of change that he wants to see. It’s important to note that from what I’ve seen, not all expats think like this. Many are interested in transplanting their own culture here, which isn’t without merit. I recorded an extensive interview with Ronnie, and when I get back home, his audio recordings (and others) will be presented as part of my findings. For now, these notes are partially to serve to jog my memory, as well as to share a bit of the process with my stateside audience. Today’s ride was incredibly short, barely even worth mentioning. I left Da Nang at around 3:00, but not before giving my bike chain some quick attention. Yesterday’s water and road debris had completely seized the chain, and it needed a wipe and some new oil to run smoothly again. The bike is completely filthy, and tomorrow I will look for a hose to clean it off. Running without fenders saves a lot of weight, but makes everything dirty. Today’s ride: 15 miles on a fairly busy oceanfront main road connecting Da Nang to Hoi An. Technically, I’m not staying in Hoi An. Another friend of a friend has a house in the hottest new tourist area, An Bang Beach. And so, after leaving Da Nang, discussing utopian ideas of some kind of cultural melting pot, the responsibility of expats and tourists, etc... Resort hotel after resort hotel, American restaurants, tourists on motorbikes. An Bang Beach is a bit more laid-back, but no less tourist-centric. Less than ten years ago, I’m told, it was a small fishing village. It’s this paradox that, although garnering some of my base-level discomfort, deserves attention. This is one interesting piece of Vietnam’s story that I’m getting ready to dive into in the coming days. It was a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke for dinner. I’ll be heading back into Vietnam’s heartland on Sunday, so best to burger up now! It will be an early night for me too. In addition to resting my legs tomorrow, I have an exciting interview with an American veteran and expat who has lived here for the last decade running a charity that assists with children’s education. As always, thank you for following along. It means a lot to me to have “ground support”. This post is the first in a series of shorter posts where I write about more general experiences, not necessarily falling into a single day’s diary. Thanks Dad for the suggestion, and certainly mention something in the comments if you’re curious - I might address it!
When I first started planning this trip, one of my concerns - and one of the most common concerns of my peers - was the language difference. Vietnamese is incredibly tough to learn, and it was not realistic for me to gain any appreciable foothold on it before my trip. And so, I plundered on, with the thought of Google Translate and hand gestures providing me with some reassurance. I knew that communication would be tough, but I wanted that difficulty to add a unique edge to the trip. Of course, in the larger, more tourist-driven cities like Dong Hoi, Da Nang, and Hoi An, communication is no problem. Local employees are used to catering to Westerners, and usually have a good grasp of English. But in rural areas, other than “hello”, there is no English. It’s certainly helpful that I’m not a picky eater. I usually just point at what someone else is eating - hasn’t failed yet. Google Translate often comes in handy at the pharmacy to get across my cold symptoms. In general, communicating hasn’t been as hard as I anticipated. Pointing, gesturing, and hoping has not yet failed to yield food, drink, or a bed. But it’s the aloneness that I didn’t expect quite as much. This was mitigated in the first week travelling with Lyle. But since he’s behind me, I don’t have a companion to speak in English too. I’m not complaining, of course - this is all part of the experience and the challenge. Being in some of these bigger cities and meeting up with Facebook mutual friend expats has been nice. But I expect tomorrow’s plunge back into rural Vietnam to be isolating. I’ll be leaving the tourist beat, heading back into Old Vietnam - I’m incredibly excited about that for other reasons. But I’ll also be leaving behind the comforts of English. Here’s to eating whatever is offered, sleeping wherever I find lodging, and seeking comfort in the uncomfortable. |
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