| Yup, that really is a half size Eiffel Tower. Your eyes deceive you not. Posted Thursday, 13 July 2006 | ||
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| We had high hopes for Dalat. The Vietnamese call this mountain top town the ‘Paris of the East’ and it has something of a Gretna Green/Las Vegas reputation for being a top wedding spot. It’s romance in the clouds, we were led to believe, a town of beauty and charm. And the trip up was quite charming. Our coach negotiated a road zig zagging up to the peaks with sheer drops to the side of us. The view was breathtaking and the air cooled to a comfortable temperature. And then it cooled some more, and then some more, and then the clouds arrived and then the rain and suddenly it was winter – something we thought we had left in England. We checked into a hotel the like of which we imagined we’d be staying in on our entire trip but we hadn’t actually done so since Laos. There was no air-con or fan so we toddled down to the receptionist: “My good lady, my partner and I are very susceptible to the heat at night,” I said, “Oh no,” she said, “in Dalat is very cold. You don’t need fan”. “Yer we do. It may be raining now but I know Asia better than you mere local woman who’s lived here all your life. I know by night there will be heat wave preventing our sleep. I expect a fan, and pronto!” So this old lady heaves a fan to our room. Obviously it’s never been used as the plastic packing was still on it. That night…well, it still never got used. Dalat was so nippy we both slept like logs beneath furry blankets in a way we hadn’t slept for months. It was like we were back in England Land. But the cosy nights sleep was not enough to lift our spirits about Dalat. Maybe it was the rain, traveller’s weariness or our high expectations but it failed to deliver. This mountaintop town was more of a city. Much of the architecture was in the brutal Soviet style and whilst it did indeed have a replica of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of town (a quite unnerving sight this far from Europe) it didn’t strike us the Paris of the East. Maybe we’re just cynical old grumps. Anyway, so our guesthouse tried to push us into the hands of the Easy Riders - guides who take you on motorbike tours of the city. Initially I was quite happy to just pay $11 for the city tour but then the prospect dawned of a two-day tour through the mountains all the way to Saigon riding pillion on the back of a meaty old chrome and black bike. I hesitated, I pondered, and Wendy got excited. Why not, we thought, we don’t like this town anyway – let’s leave it in style! So, as we didn’t do a whole lot in Dalat I am going to use this opportunity to illustrate, through the senses, what South East Asia is really like: S E Asia smells like: Exhaust fumes, lemongrass and lime, rubbish left to rot, meat in the sun, citronella, tiger balm, deet, fresh fruit and vegetables, incense and the creamy, sweet yet sewer-like aroma of Durian fruit. S E Asia tastes like: Fresh hot chilli in soups, fresh sweat and sun tan lotion, exhaust fumes, fruit shakes and cold welcoming beer. SE Asia sounds like: The whale of karaoke, motorbike engines, incessant tooting of horns, chickens, dogs barking. “Sir/Madame, where you going?”, the dee-dur sound as you cross the threshold into the omnipresent 7-Elevens of Thailand, the noise of food frying, room fans and air conditioning units, crunching dirt underfoot, grasshoppers knees, laughing. And no where do you hear any angry voices. And, for anyone who thinks S E Asia is remote, be calmed by the fact that whether you are in Laos, Vietnam, Thailand or wherever, you are never more than a minute from a packet of Pringles. | ||
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