all in less than 72 hours

We left our ‘new family’s’ house and headed for hoi An. I almost don’t even want to write about the day that followed; the thought causes stress.

Ill relay the short version. We rode 600 kilometeres in one day (about 375 miles) for 18 straight hours. We took a wrong turn and ended up on a dirt mountain rode that we foolishly followed into the darkness. Not a single English word was known. I frantically asked a local shop owner for directions as he showed me that we were in ‘k2’- a providence about 100 kilometers off from the turn we were supposed to take. For the first time I truly began to panic. I attempted to find a road out, getting me and my bike stuck in knee deep mud. Gus found a gathering and tried to ask which way the beach was- drawing pictures of the ocean and imitating the sound of waves. “They all just stood there nodding there head with this big grin on their faces staring at me. I knew they were no help.” We decided to go back the way we came, bashing our undercarriages on the trillions of rocky obstacles. Once on pavement my bike chain decided to snap in half. Even better, gus’s headlight went out. We made a rope tie and I waterskied on asphalt for a good 70 kilometers, my hands feeling like death from clenching the muddy knot.

We arrived in a junk trucker town at 3 in the morning. Shaken, wet, and exhausted I ate a pack of instant noodles in silence. At the shop we could see 10 men sitting on their bikes at various points in the intersection. All were watching us. One man drunkenly walked up to us and asked for  money by pointing at our pockets. With two broken bikes and no sunlight for 3 hours, we knew we were prey. I put my most valued items in my pocket just in case; notebook, camera memory card, and passport. We began walking down the street pushing our bikes; the silent wheel rotation contrasting with the sound of their engines starting. We found the crappiest hotel that money couldn’t even buy and posted up for the evening. “Not tonight.” It was like an escape you'd see on the discovery channel. Best part: the hotel room door locked from the outside.

We slept well past checkout time and walked our bikes to get fixed. At the mechanic shop I met a monk who inquired about my life and the bike that moved it . I was surprised at the level of English he spoke. He was friends with the mechanics [who fixed my bike to a plane of perfection]. It was a new machine.

The monk offered to take us to his pagoda, or as westerners call it, his ‘temple’.  We got a tour of the beautiful building and finished the afternoon drinking tea and discussing the most certain of topics- Vietnam, our families, and obama.  "If you need food, tell me. If you need a place to sleep, tell me. It you need money, tell me." He reiterated. Again the kindness of people continuing to floor me. Off to Hoi an when gus’ headlight went out for the xth time,  providing an excuse to sleep in clean sheets in another not so clean town. A Vietnamese man came up to us and spoke perfect English, no accent. We both thought we were hallucinating. He was from Texas, visiting family, and asked about our trip. 

I had to make an important call at the hotel and the damn phone wouldn’t work. I was getting unreasonably frustrated. To make a bad situation better, the hotel owners daughters started taking pictures of me from every angle. “KAWM!” I declared, that means ‘no’.  Ive learned I would make a terrible celebrity. I dislike the constant attention that we receive. I cant even pee on the side of the road (a common occurrence) without seeing slowing bikes and turning heads in my peripheral.

I almost died the next day, i wont go into it. If I were to spend the rest of my life in a box it would be semi-alright by me. I’m on borrowed time.

We finally made it to Hoi An and had a great night, finishing it off by binging on ice cream cones from the hotel icebox. We met a man our age. He says to us, “You are born into opportunity. You are not born into knowledge.”  I pondered that.

He asked us what we had planned for after our trip, to which we responded, “go back to school I guess”. “Why? Capitalism? Got to make heaps of money, eh?” Which made me question my subconscious motives; about 1% of which pertaining to money. Everyone should question the reason why they are in school. If every human had the same number on their paycheck, what would you be doing instead. YOU are on borrowed time- start making the most of it.

Everything I learn here is only learned by comparison. One learns nothing from another culture by itself. One can only learn as far as they have their own culture to compare it to. It’s possible to learn something out of complete nothingness. Everything is a mirror.

People tell us all the time how young we are. Some have literally awed at our age, “Oh! So young!”. I don’t understand it. I feel old. 

There's only one thing to say walking  out the door in the morning for breakfast, “What do you want, baguettes or noodles.” That’s all there is here. I’m not joking.  What we do joke about is what the hell envelops these people’s thought process when they decide to open the 17th pho place on the same block.

My gps consists of a crumpled piece of paper, a pen, an index finger, and countless clueless people. Sometimes I prefer a computer screen... Just sometimes.