Despite a little rain in the forecast, we decided to sneak in a quick beach trip to Nha Trang. Big mistake. The town’s reputation as a beach paradise is grossly misleading. We found the Russian club scene overwhelming. We spent less than 24 hours here before high tailing it to Da Lat.
One tip we received from a fellow traveler over beers in Phong Nha was to stay at the Da Lat Family Hostel. The enthusiastic endorsement convinced us and it was the first place we headed off the bus. After getting lost along the tiny turny streets winding trough town, asking directions, and heading up yet another narrow, hidden alley way we surely never would have found, we turned the corner – and found the daily block party that is the family hostel.
We were welcomed by dozens of travelers hanging out, drinking cold beers and ushered inside by none other than Momma herself. True to her reputation, she insisted on feeding us… and feeding us more. Plate after plate were brought out of the kitchen and served to the hungry masses that appeared for a short burst before dispersing back to their beers. Only after we were sufficiently stuffed were we given our room key. We set the rest of the night listening to people’s epic stories about canyoning.
Like most adventure tours in Asia, there is little regard for safety and zero concept of liability. Which definitely makes things more exciting.
Next up was the real deal – a sixty foot rappel down a raging waterfall. It was fun to watch from above as people in the group started down, unable to really understand what they were going through. Once hooked in and standing in your socks with water rushing over you (socks grip the wet rock much better than rubber soles) you get a better idea. Halfway down the rappel, the cliff steepens and the full brunt of the water hits you. Your hands squeeze the wet rope and you carefully walk down the sheer rock face, unable to see or hear anything as the violent pressure of the water beats down on you. About 15 feet above the pool, the rope runs out and you are forced to free fall into the water below.
The final adventure of the day is a free hangingrappel down a waterfall and into the river. The steepness of the cliff combined with narrowness of the waterfall prevent you from seeing what you’re getting into. Once you lower yourself over the edge, and out into space, the water hits you and with no rock to brace yourself against, it spins you around like a rag doll until you lower yourself into the water below. This is where you rely on that lesson of how to not panic. The water fall pushes you under the water and fighting it only makes it worse. Giving into the current allows the water to pull you under and spit you out down stream, albeit a little disoriented and out of breath.
The following day in Da Lat we explored the many adorable coffee shops in town, enjoyed the local’s lunch spots and took advantage of fast internet to arrange our visas for Myanmar.
We found about a bar advertising some live rock music, and headed there in the evening to enjoy our last night in town. The rock covers were awesome, and the band included an local 8 year old drummer that absolutely ripped. We were the only ones left in the bar by the end of the night, and the band invited us back to their house for a bonfire.
Expats are always interesting and our time traveling in Asia has proven that some of the weirdest people you can meet are middle-aged white people. Let’s just say that the night got late, and weird. We asked our hosts to call us a taxi to take us home.
Da Lat was lovely. The pine trees and crisp mountain air were a welcomed reprieve from the of coast of Vietnam. Yet another epic and heinous bus ride took us down out of the mountains and into the heart and soul of modern Vietnam.