10 Short Stories

DEO HAI VAN

I flew into Hanoi on the eve of Chinese New Year, 2002. It was to be my first solo ride. Although I had told myself that I would stop riding for a while after being humiliated in Tibet, back in Oct 2000. I somewhat changed my mind.

I was not sure if I had more yearning deep within me to be immersed in the great outdoors or back then, I already knew that I would need more experience to prepare for something bigger.

In retrospection, I think it was probably a combination of both leaning more towards the latter.

The taxi ride from the airport to the city centre of Hanoi was dark and quiet. In a complete contrast, the city centre was brightly decorated and humming like a busy hive; it was just like our Chinatown on the eve of Chinese New Year. I was pleasantly surprised with the festivity but disturbed as it had been a tiring flight with a transit in Saigon and the firecrackers going off had kept me awake.

On the second day of the Chinese New Year, I cycled out of Hanoi to begin my ride on the 1700km long National Highway 1 that runs the length of Vietnam connecting the capital to Saigon in the south.

A couple of kilometers after leaving Hanoi, I realized that I had not taken back my passport from the little guesthouse I had stayed. It was exactly what had happened to Isobel when we cycled out of Lhasa back in October 2000! Back then, I had asked her why she was so forgetful. Surprisingly, it had come around to me. It was hilariously coincidental!

I was cycling up the Wind Cloud Pass (Deo Hai Van), the highest mountain pass on National Highway 1 that separates north Vietnam from the south. The climate north of the Pass and south of it are actually rather distinct with the north being cooler. The Pass acts as a barrier of sort.

Like a child would enjoy an ice cream, the downhill after the hard climb up Deo Hai Van was mine to savor. I was doing probably more than 40km/h when I hit a bump (more of a lump on the road that the road workers had not leveled!) and everything went blank.

When I regained my consciousness, a couple of Vietnamese had already carried me tens of meters from my bike to this little house by the edge of the road. They then went back to get my bicycle while I started to clean my wounds and stop my bleedings. My very first act was to check if I had broken any bones. When I found that my range of motions with my limbs had not been affected I felt a big relief. I was lucky to suffer only abrasions.

I then cycled the remaining 30km to Hoi-An, which in my opinion was the most beautiful town in Vietnam. The person standing behind the counter of Poh Hoi 1 (the guesthouse where I was checking in) somewhat looked embarrassed while she tried to be discreet while stealing glances at the state I was in; she was in all likelihood asking herself why there was such a dirty, heavily dusted and bloodied Singaporean standing across the counter.

She however gave me a room for roughly USD10. I will always remember that shower I had after I entered my room as my longest to date. It was so painful with all my abrasions. It was a moment I really do not want to have again.

I spent a couple of days recuperating in Hoi An. I walked a little and was happy to lose myself while admiring the lovely architecture of the seaside town. I made myself a pair of shoes and tailored a few shirts- just doing what almost every traveler would do, when in Hoi-An.

Over the years, whenever I met travelers who had been to Vietnam, I would often ask them the same question; if they had all spent a huge proportion of their budgets in Hoi-An!

I remember spending a lot of time at this tiny restaurant some 15 meters from Poh Hoi 1, eating dumpling soup (which reminded me of the stall at our East Coast Lagoon hawker centre!) and drinking ba-ba-ba. There were a couple of internet connections in the restaurant, which I had used to send a mail titled "Silver Giant Down". The mail worried several of my friends, ha. I was riding a silver colored Giant bike then.

If you look at the photo closely, you should be able to see the scar on my chin after my fall on Deo Hai Van. With hindsight, I was probably young and stupid then; I am now older and slightly wiser!