The Last Days of Dalat

My birthday in Ho Chih Minh turned out to be an unexpectedly debaucherous night of drinking, crazy Vietnamese clubs, old friends, and new ones. Basically, it was a blast. I met up with an old college friend, Matt, who now resides and works in Ho Chih Minh as a Teddy Bear exporter, or something equally as random. I hadn't seen the guy since college graduation, but him and his (extremely international) expat comrades--from the likes of India, America, Cambodia, and Sweden--took us out for an intense night of club-hopping and celebrating, Saigon style. This included (what seemed like) endless bottles of flowing champagne, dancing in night clubs in cages, and a belly full of drunken dim sum to top it all off. I got drunk. I danced. It was fun. Denny's family also cooked an amazing seafood dinner which coincided with shots of patron, beer, and cake ... smeared over many an intoxicated face. It was most definitely a birthday I will never forget ... I really did celebrate the seemingly boring age of twenty-six with a bang.

We arrived in Dalat yesterday, a beautiful, yet somewhat boring, hillside town some ten hours away from the hustle and bustle of Ho Chih Minh. It's relaxing here, but the city is overflowing with puddles from the rain and there's not much to do, which meant I got enough downtime to catch the Terminator on TV in our three-dollar a night hotel as well kill time reading Australian tabloid magazines and a two year old European Marie Claire (in a language I couldn't distinguish), that was laying around in the hotel lobby.

We saw the city by way of motorcycle (that Denny's native cousin and friend drove), which encompassed a pretty lake, reminiscent of a cleaner and bigger lake Merritt in Oakland, a disappointing flower garden, and a lively market with a colorful cornucopia of local fruit and vegetables. We visited a quirky guest house monikered "Crazy House" which was nostalgic of a Daliesque fairy land. I think the owner/architect might be as eccentric as the house itself, whose perfectly posed glamour shots throughout the decades adorned the walls. Glamour shots aside, I respect the lady for taking a risk in designing such a kooky and creative house--in Dalat, Vietnam of all places.

Denny and I spent a few hours at V Cafe--a cute balconied cafe who, according to Lonely Planet, serves up a killer chocolate pie. We sat drinking iced coffee and chatting with a lovely Dutch couple who were on Holiday from their current home in Shanghai. I love meeting travelers and hearing their stories--everyone is so unique from my own and everyone's reason for traveling is as diverse as their countries of origin. The natives here are friendly and everyone seems intrigued, and at the same time, confused as to where I am from. I don't look American, but I'm from America? A strange concept for some to embrace but one I have come accustomed to during my travels abroad.

Dalat is a charming city, epitomous of a Vietnamese honeymoon, and a far cry from the bustling craziness of Saigon. I thought I was going to get hit by a bike every time I walked outside the door in Saigon. Here, there's nothing of the sort, and it's a sweet change. We leave for Nha Trang tomorrow which is as notorious for its beautiful beaches as it is for its late night partying. I am excited to literally do nothing all day on the beach. I just want to embrace the hot weather and work on my tan while drinking buckets of coronas. It's happening, it better happen, and I hope to God it doesn't rain the whole time. I'm sick of wearing my green, fifty cent rain poncho.