We are on the penultimate day of the motorbike tour.
After Mai Cháu and Moc Cháu, we reached Sơn Lá. We spent two nights there and then turned back.
We are coming back the same way, so yesterday the rooms of Moc Cháu and today the rooms of Mai Cháu were waiting for us.
I had plenty of time to meditate on the motorbike.
Even in the rain.
Sơn La
Son La is not one of the most well-known tourist destinations, but that is precisely what makes it pleasant: it is more of a real Vietnamese provincial town than a tourist attraction.
Many people were happy to see us as strangers here. But right at the hotel we ran into a negative host. He was so unpleasant that I decided that this hotel would be my first negative review on Google Maps. But the other hosts were so nice that I finally gave up.
At the first dinner, a Vietnamese group invited us to their table. After we turned down one of the guys who wanted to pay for our entire dinner in advance, we ate and drank whatever we wanted. We didn’t mind a good chat with them, a couple of glasses of beer and some homemade cookies.
That was how our first day ended, which was spent traveling and visiting a small town.
The second day it rained almost all day, so I spent most of the day with my real wife, as my Belarusian friend named my laptop.
Towards evening I had time and the right weather to explore the city a bit. There are not many special sights in the city, but we did visit the only interesting place – mentioned by AI.
Sơn La prison (Nhà tù Sơn La)
This prison was built by the French during the colonial period for political prisoners. Today it is a museum and an important part of Vietnam’s independence history.
The pouring rain set the perfect mood for visiting this terrible place. I was in a gloomy mood too.
It was a terrible feeling to see the small, cold and dark cells. The leg shackles. The separate prison the size of a house built underground. The whole place exuded negative energy. I could almost feel the pain that people must have experienced and died here. I wondered several times how many souls must have perished here.
The most difficult part of the visit was waiting in the museum belonging to the prison. The table where the names and photographs showed many people who had passed away. On paper, they were just numbers. In reality, each one was an unknown, but certainly difficult story.
I probably wouldn’t have gone into this prison in such detail if the next evening he hadn’t brought me a gift.
Moc Chau
Yesterday, Friday morning, we turned back to do the 350 km in the other direction.
We spent the entire day in the rain, except for the last few kilometers.
The rain was sometimes torrential, sometimes it just fell. As Forrest Gump said, the variety was that it fell on my face from the front or the side.
I had a raincoat that I had been given as a gift, so I got through the day with moderate moisture. After a few hours, my hands were the way I imagine they will be in 20 years. My feet were soaked in my shoes, but otherwise driving was a smooth affair.
I really enjoyed driving in this rain. The best part was that I wasn’t cold. The rain was warm, and so was the air. The rain was also soft, and I took a few sips of it during the day.
You have to pay different attention to the road in the rain – especially on a motorbike. But even then, I could only pay attention to my thoughts for several hours. That’s how I discovered motorcycle meditation in the rain. It feels great not to have to figure out why. I don’t have to prove to myself that this day was good. I simply enjoyed the ride. The water that sometimes caressed me, sometimes slapped my face. The wrinkled skin on my hands. I enjoyed it when the raindrops covered my sunglasses and I could see less. When I didn’t have glasses on, I loved the feel of the water hitting my eyes.
An unforgettable dinner
There was a restaurant in town where we had delicious fried rice twice.
We went there innocently.
Three brothers run the restaurant. They got to know us and invited us in.
And I’ll tell you up front, it wasn’t like we had a free dinner that day.
Dinner was hot pot. This is a very popular thing in Asia. There’s a small gas stove in the middle of the table, and dinner is simmering on it. And we eat it fresh. They keep adding meat to the pot, so there’s always fresh and ready-to-eat food.
I ate goat meat for the first time in my life. Which was cooked in beer, by the way. There was pasta and salad on the side. And lots of beer.
And rice vodka. When the question arose whether we would drink, I immediately said yes. My friend refrained from the experience. So I – without any pressure – destroyed at least two people’s worth of vodka. Of course, the end of the dinner was a huge drunkenness, but that was no surprise. I already know that if I sit down to drink with locals, my sanity is immediately lost.
We talked a lot. One of the brothers knew a little English. The other enthusiastically used Google Translate. And the third spoke Chinese well, which was a surprise. It turned out that my Belarusian friend does not speak the language at a basic level.
A lot was discussed. They told me several times how honored it was that we accepted the invitation. We told them several times that it was an honor for us. We talked about everyday life. About women. One of the guys told me not to be so polite anymore, it is not that special that they are happy to give. It is lucky that I behave the way I do from an inner motive. That way I did not have to relax. We were very relaxed.
We laughed a lot together. The atmosphere of this evening was such that I think I will never forget. Maybe we said at the same time that we don’t see any difference between us. I always like that idea very much.
We also talked about history. That’s how the war came up, or rather, I brought it up. I said the following to one of the guys:
Vietnam has a sad history. Despite all this, you are a cheerful country.
He gave me a long answer on my phone. The alcohol had already taken its toll, we had already gone through several heart-warming sentences and moments, so I was waiting with heightened excitement for his answer. Here it is:
Indeed, we are. History is our past. Vietnam is a country that has never bowed down to conquerors. We always stick together, respect our history, do not forget our past, and remember with gratitude those friends who helped us. This will be engraved in the memory of future generations.
For some reason, I was very happy and moved to read this.
I went to sleep happy and very drunk.
Durian Heaven
I woke up this morning to find that there was a party on my mind and I wasn’t invited.
We had breakfast, where the surprise I’ve experienced several times before was repeated. Instead of the fried rice we ordered, we got the well-deserved noodle soup. Which was really delicious. And supposedly, you should drink broth for a hangover too.
Before leaving, I went to a place called Durian Heaven, which I noticed when we left a few days ago.
I really didn’t know what to expect. Would I get some durian soft drink or durian coffee? It didn’t really matter. I wanted to try whatever they offered.
I really didn’t regret going in.
I had a chè sầu đêm.
This is a dessert. There was a big piece of durian on my plate. It was floating in coconut milk. There was lychee, three kinds of fruit jelly and a little rice noodle.
Back in Thailand, I said that durian is one of my favorite fruits. It’s delicious on its own, I really like it. But in this combination… Divine. I can only imagine this word for this dessert.
The owner said that she was very honored that I visited her restaurant. And she asked if she could take pictures of the two of us.
And after I ate the food, I wrote to her that I really liked what she made for me and that I thanked her very much.
We were both so excited that 5 minutes later, when I was loading it onto my motorbike, I remembered that we had both forgotten to pay.
I quickly went back to her. I could see when I entered that she had realized this too. She greeted me with a huge smile. We didn’t have to say anything to understand each other.
She gave me a thumbs up to show what she thought.
And with this thumbs up, I signaled to the day that we had returned to Mai Chau.
The locals welcomed the returnees with great joy.
And I was able to write this article on a well-known terrace.
My thumb is still pointing upwards.
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